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zialltops · 2 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

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“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

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dameronology · 7 months

Text

when it rains (obi-wan x reader)

summary: being in love with obi-wan is great - but it might be less difficult if he knew about it. (commission for @ofmusesandsecrets!)

warnings: language

You were generally quite good at keeping your shit together.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had always been a threat to that.

On the surface, you were everything a Senator could need to be; an intelligent and well-spoken individual, with a high level of education and a passion for change. You always stood up for what you believed in; always spoke up on issues you were passionate about and always fighting the good fight. These were all things that Obi-Wan had loved about you, and in what felt like the galaxy's cruellest Catch 22, it was that love that threatened your ability to upkeep appearances. One glance at him across the Senate, or a brief moment of eye contact at one of the Galas - more often than not where he was your bodyguard - and you were worried it would all come tumbling down.

You had met Kenobi a few years after he'd become a Jedi Master. You were early on in your career as a politician, working as an apprentice to a higher-level representative. Always on the go, with stacks of paperwork in your arms and a million thoughts brewing in your mind, you'd crossed paths with Obi-Wan one morning during a meeting in the Temple. He'd given you a smile, made a quip about how he'd never seen you not on the go (which confirmed to you that he had seen you before and had stared long enough to notice those details about you).

Five years later, you hadn't been able to look at anyone else.

He was your best friend now, undoubtedly and wholly. You saw each other every day at the least - maybe in meetings and occasionally in passing - but he would come to your apartment every night without fail. Mostly just to catch up, and sometimes just to vent. Even on the days where Anakin had driven him to the point of grey hair, you were still happy to listen.

It was raining tonight in Coruscant. A lot. Lashing down from the sky, putting most of the city to a halt. Your afternoon meeting had been cancelled as a result, which meant you'd been holed up in your apartment all afternoon, a mug of tea in one hand and a stack of paperwork in the other. Obi-Wan's first ever comment to you had always rung true; you were always on the go, even when you were sat still. There was always something on your mind - something to create, something to do, something to debate. Sometimes, it made Obi-Wan want to grab your shoulders, give you a little shake and tell you to slow the fuck down.

He turned up just after 8PM - drenched, as expected, and with a slightly wet coffee cup in hand. In your line of work, you could afford a slow afternoon. For Obi-Wan, your busiest day of work was comparable to one he'd find relaxing. You had no doubt that he'd not long wrapped up for the night, so you wasted no time in stepping aside and letting him into your apartment.

"Long day?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

Obi-Wan glared at you. "Long day. Wet day."

"Right, sorry," you snorted. Taking the coffee cup out his hands, you tossed it into the garbage and headed towards your kitchen. "C'mon, I'll make you a drink that's not half rainwater."

"Thank you, darling," he gave you a small smile, hot on your tail as he followed you through the apartment. "I heard the Senate meeting was called early this afternoon."

"Yeah," you replied. "At like 2PM. Half the people due to come couldn't make it due to the weather. It took me two hours to get home."

"You should have come and found me at the Temple," Obi-Wan said. "You know my room is always available."

You knew. You'd always known, even on the nights when Obi-Wan was present there too. How many times had you stayed over after a long night? Snuck back there after a Gala? Just to sleep three feet apart, both your minds working at a thousand miles an hour, purely to resist the urge to reach out towards him and curl up into his side. The idea of domesticity with Obi-Wan was almost enough to kill you, just as it was right now. Here he was, leant against your kitchen counter. He was throwing his wet cloak into your tumble drier, hands reaching for a tea towel on the side. He was acting like he lived here, like he paid half the rent and maker, you wished he would. You wished that he would come back here every night and just fucking stay. With you, here, forever. No outside world; no politics; no stupid Jedi laws.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

You blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Your mind - it went somewhere," Obi-Wan continued. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, uh...just work," you forced a smile. "You know how it is."

"I turn off when I'm done," he replied, hand brushing down your arm. "You never really stop, do you?"

I stop thinking about work, you thought to yourself, but I never stop thinking about you.

"No, I will," you murmured. "Sorry."

"Never be sorry," Obi-Wan said.

You snapped back into action, hands quickly chucking ingredients into a mug in order to produce an acceptable cup of coffee. You knew Obi-Wan's routine with his fancy-ass drip filter and organic beans and locally sourced milk. It was a few levels above the instant coffee you were about to press into his hands, but your actions were still met with a smile.

"How are you going to get back to the Temple later?" you asked. "The storm has half the city at a standstill and I beg you not to say that you're walking."

He smiled. "I realised as soon as I got to your building that I may be trapped for the night."

"Right," you replied, fighting back your own smile. "That's sort of the point I was getting to anyways."

Your eyes met, and you couldn't help but sometimes wonder if he felt it too. If his eyes lingered on yours when you turned away, if you were constantly on his mind every moment that you were apart. Of course, it was different for him; after all, the job he'd dedicated his very life to forbade attachment in any form and this? Well, this was the highest form.

"I have some of my brothers clothes in the hallway closet," you broke the silence. "You're welcome to steal some."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you, darling."

It wasn't really a question between you about where he would be sleeping. You only had one bed and you'd already shared before, so what was the point in overcomplicating it? Well...overcomplicating it even more. Nothing about this was simple, and sharing a bed was not the distance you needed for the situation, but what did you care anymore? You yearned to be around the man all the time, even if it meant doing this weird to-and-fro that you'd had going on for half a decade. Him being in your bed just for tonight was fine. You were both tired. You both needed it.

Obi-Wan picked up his mug, giving your arm another squeeze.

"I'm going to go and shower," he said. "Thank you letting me stay."

You smiled and nodded. "Always."

Putting aside your own half empty coffee, you threw it into the sink - that would be tomorrow's problem, as would all of this - and went through to the bedroom. You could hear the shower running, and your mind again went off to that all too familiar place: home. Not here, but wherever Obi-Wan was. What you wouldn't have given to had this every night; you getting ready for bed, him in the shower, both of you planning to end up in the same bed. It wasn't possible. You knew it wasn't possible, as long as he were still a Jedi and as long as you were still a Senator. Hell, you would have thrown your position aside in seconds if it meant being with him. Maybe that was the difference between the two of you.

Changing into a baggy shirt and sweatpants, you threw aside the covers and climbed into bed. The sheets were cold, as they always were when you first went to bed, but knowing someone else was minutes away from warming them up sent butterflies to your stomach. Maybe not butterflies, so much as they were wasps. Big, anxious wasps, at the idea of being in such close proximity with your best friend. What if this was the night that three foot meant fuck all? Maybe you could actually have his arms around; keep him closer for longer, not just a brief hug or a quick touch. This could be it now.

You heard the water shut off and there was a brief shuffling. A few moments later, Obi-Wan exited the bathroom. He'd opted for sweatpants too, but no shirt. Your instincts said to look away, but you couldn't. Hell, you didn't even care that you looked like a creep, watching him as he crossed the room. Obi-Wan barely even noticed, simply placing his boots by the door and climbing into bed beside you. You could feel the heat off his body beside you, arms just inches from touching.

"Was the shower okay?" you asked, eager to break the silence that had once again formed. "I've been having problems with...with my hot water."

"Why are you nervous?"

You blinked. "I'm not nervous."

"Yes, you are," Obi-Wan replied. "You always ramble when you're nervous, and I've never heard you talk about something as boring as how well your shower is working."

"Right," you murmured. "Sorry."

"That still doesn't answer my question," he pushed. "Why are you nervous? It's me, sweetheart."

"Maybe that's exactly why I'm nervous," you muttered. "I'm not sure. I just...it's weird that you're shirtless in my bed."

"Oh," he seemed surprise. "That's okay. I can sleep on the sofa-"

"- no, no, it's fine," you quickly cut him off. "I just never really know what to do these situations, to be honest. When we've slept together before, I've always tried my best to stay on the other side of the bed but...I'm not so sure I want to do that tonight."

Obi-Wan stared blankly ahead for a moment. Okay, so that had been risky as fuck, and for a moment you felt yourself reeling, waiting for his reaction. To your surprise, there wasn't really one. Even when it was the most forward you'd been - without really being forward at all - he still stayed stoic as always. There was no visible response, just a quick blink and a small shrug.

"We're both cold from the rain," he reasoned. "It makes sense. I see no reason why we have to stay on opposite sides of the bed."

Much to your surprise, he was the one to move first. He shuffled onto his side, a large arm coming around your waist and the other snaking underneath you. He pulled you into him, hand guiding your head into his neck and tucking it below his chin. You were stiff for a second, but quickly relaxed - this felt right. Like it was meant to be.

You could faintly smell the remains of his aftershave, mixed with the smell of your shower gel. His skin was still warm from the shower.

(And maybe it was).

"Are you warmer now?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Toasty."

He smiled. "Good - now get some sleep."

You knew the morning would come, and that Obi-Wan would have to leave; you knew even more that this might not happen again. Not unless luck was on your side and would happen to lump you together during a storm, or a black out. Or - and the more terrifying option - that you declared your love for him and this would be how every night was.

It was hard to know; hard to tell and predict, just like everything else in the galaxy. Still, you were grateful that Obi-Wan was your best friend, and even more grateful that you had tonight.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi imagines #obi-wan fluff #obi-wan kenobi fluff #obi-wan imagines #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan reader insert #obi-wan kenobi reader insert #obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fluff

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mikobeautifulheart · 13 days

Note

Hiii, can I request a fic of nanami(established relationship) if he caught to in the act of trying to kill yourself. I get it if you won't do it though..❤

There is like nothing I won't write for I'm that desperate. Plus I have so many ideas.

Tw: self harm, destructive tendencies and depression (angst to ig)

They say you can tell when someone is going to commit. Obviously it isn't true.

You were the brightest person in the room, every morning when you were all getting assigned missions you would smile and greet everybody.

Nanami didn't know how you did it, always smiling when your job puts you to the dirtiest work of the world. Hell the day you stopped smiling was the day the world ended.

Maybe that's why he was so in love with you, you had so much affection to give him as he had for you, you could always smile brighter for him, laugh louder for him, all you ever did was make him happy.

"Y/n?" He said knocking on the bathroom door.

"Are you okay in there?" he said with little to no concern.

He had come home an hour ago and thought you must have still been on your mission because of how quiet the house was. That was until he heard noises in the bathroom.

"Mmmm" he heard muffled mumbles through the door, not even close to a proper response.

"Y/n i'm coming in okay?" He turns the handle but the door wont budge.

Another sound came from the other side of the door but it was louder like glass smashing on the tile floors.

"Stay away from the door, Do you hear me y/n? I'm going to knock it down"

He wastes no time before he takes a step back before kicking it the first time.

The door makes a splitting sound but dosen't open.

Second Kick.

Again, its more likely he's going to put a hole in the door before he breaks it down.

This time he slams his shoulder into it ripping the hinges off the wall and finally making the door weak enough to rip off the frame.

He pulls the door toward him so he dosen't hit you, and looks into the bathroom to see you on the floor, red around your torso, hair in your face.

He nearly took a step back in shock to see the horror infront of him. Still he went in and lifted your upper half off the ground to see where the blood was coming from.

As his eyes scanned you body you let out a groan.

"Sorry..." You said before quickly shutting your eyes in pain when he touched your arm.

"I didn't want you to be the one who found me..." You said before your mind gave out and your body went limp.

"Y/n? You have to keep your eyes open okay, can you hear me, Y/N" The longer he stayed the more of his composure he lost.

There it was, two long lines of red down both your arms. He rolled your sleeves up to get a better look.

"I'm going to get you to Shoko okay? Just hold out for me, please." He said scattering things all over the floor and pulling out things from the draws until he found bandages, if he didn't stop the bleeding now you would get to Shoko dead.

Carefully he starts wrapping your arms tightly, becoming worried but relived when you hissed in pain. He hated to see you in pain but at least he knew you were alive, alive enough to feel.

When the bandages were secure he carried you down to his car where he dialed Shoko right as he placed you along the passenger seats in the back. Even though it was late at night he knew Shoko would come in and save you.

He rushed you in watching to see if you were still breathing before laying you down in Shoko's clinic.

He waited out side and next to your bed all night, playing with the ring on your left hand.

As the sun came up the warm beams of light made your eyes open slowly.

''Morning" He said.

Nanami did'nt really know how to approach this, dose he ask questions now? Comfort you? Pretend it didn't even happen?

"Kento..." You said, voice groggy.

"Yes"

You reached your arm up to caress his face, a shooting pain ran down your arm and you gasped slightly before feeling tears prick the corner of your eyes.

"You shouldn't really use your arms right now" He said holding your hand to his face.

"Ken...I'm sorry I didn't want you to find me like that, I never wanted tou to suffer because of me I-im so sorry." You said letting the tears go.

"Shhh, you don't have to think about that right now, your being put on a break. No working for 2 weeks, then we can talk okay?"

You nodded trying to hold back your tears as he pressed a kiss you your cheek.

But really he felt more insecure. Was he not enough? No. He just kept taking. Your smile, your laughter and your happiness.

From this day on he would give you everything he could, anything for your happiness.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: If you don't like he ending that's cool because I have a similar fic here with a sadder ending, it's appart of my 5 stages of greife series.

#jujutsu nanami #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jjk angst

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soulkeeper801 · 1 year

Text

Drunk - Sana

Who let Sana drink that much?

Sana x f!reader

Words: 1.3k

A soft groan left Sana’s lips as her eyes opened slowly, a little uncomfortable due to the lights that were coming in through the window.

The room was still spinning for her and she felt that awful aftertaste of alcohol after a night of drinks like the night before.

Another date of the 5th world tour had ended and the girls got together to celebrate. They received a lot of alcohol as presents from many people: friends, sponsors, even fans. They couldn’t let all of that go to waste, right?

It all started when Jihyo brought a bottle of wine to the living room and proposed a toast for a successful tour. She brought back many memories from previous tours and got the girls emotional with her words.

After that, each girl brought one of the finest liquors they received to toast with each other.

Sana could only remember she cried so much while giving her own toast before everything went blank.

She smiled softly as the memories from the night before were coming to her head piece by piece. She felt loved, fortunate and blessed. Even if her head was still a mess.

“Sana?” Jihyo called from the door when she noticed the older girl had woken up.

Sana rolled over and nodded at her, “Morning,” she whispered.

Jihyo chuckled at the expression, “it’s past midday,” she replied, taking a glance at her watch. “I just wanted to check up on you. Last night you were…” she trailed off, trying to find the best words to express what she wanted to say, “... a bit drunk”.

Sana nodded and gave her an OK sign with her hand.

“So…” Jihyo trailed off once again. “Did you talk to her?”

A frown formed on Sana’s eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Jihyo shook her head, she knew Sana was drunk enough to get brave and do stupid things but she didn’t think she would black out.

“You don’t remember?” the younger girl said, stepping into the room and taking a seat on Sana’s bed.

“Remember what?” Sana replied, anxiety creeping into her body, “Jihyo, what did I do yesterday?”

Jihyo sighed deeply at the confusion of her friend. “You…” she said dubiously, “said you wanted to make things right with Y/N…”

Sana sat up immediately which caused the buzz in her head to become even louder. “What?!”

“You locked yourself in the bathroom, so we don’t know if you actually did it”.

“God, no…” Sana muttered, trying to find her phone on her bed. She frantically looked for it until she found it but the battery was dead.

“I didn’t stop you,” Jihyo continued, “because you seemed determined. It was almost like you sobered up for a couple of minutes”.

Sana’s heart was beating extremely fast as she plugged the charger. The mere sound of your name made her nervous and she suddenly felt like throwing up.

She knew it was all her fault, so she didn’t have any right to demand anything from you.

“Are you okay?” Jihyo asked, caressing her back, trying to recomfort her.

Sana shook her head. “What if I said something I shouldn’t have?”

A couple of weeks before that night, you called things off with her.

You had been dating Sana for a while and everything was great, but soon enough you noticed that she would get upset if you talked to other people, even if they were just friends or colleagues.Your job allowed you to meet many people that would greet you enthusiastically whenever you met at awards or shows. However, she would accuse you of flirting with them and constantly demand to know where you were and who you were with.

At first, you tried to reassure her and show her that she had nothing to worry about. But her jealousy only seemed to get worse with time. It started to take a toll on your relationship as you felt suffocated and unable to have any freedom or trust.

Despite your efforts to make things work, the constant arguments and distrust ultimately led to the breakup. It hurt you deeply, but the lack of communication only made things worse.

“Oh God,” Sana whispered when she saw her phone. “We talked for almost half an hour,” she said, going through her calls. “There’s a text saying to call her as soon as I feel better,” she kept whispering.

Jihyo took her hand in an encouraging grip. “Maybe it’s for a good thing,” she said. “I’m going to leave you alone so you can talk”.

As the door closed, Sana felt like crying.

She knew she messed everything up as soon as she started crossing boundaries. It wasn’t like she didn’t trust you, she just didn’t want to lose you.

After working so many years in the industry, she knew finding someone like you was a difficult task. You were everything she wanted but her own insecurities made her believe that she had to protect you or anyone would come between you two.

She didn’t mean to be controlling, she wanted you to believe it all came from a place of love. She had never felt that way about anyone else and the thought of losing everything you built together was unbearable.

When you decided to call it off, she felt like her world crumbled down. She tried to ask you for a second chance many times but was too ashamed to do so.

It seemed like the alcohol in her blood took the chance for her.

“Hello?” You said at the other side of the line.

Sana’s eyes filled with tears at the sound of your voice. She had missed you so much.

“Y/N…” her voice came out in a trembling whisper, her emotions were taking over and she didn’t know what to do.

“Are you hungover?” you asked softly, the hint of a chuckle adorned the sentence.

And it brought a light of hope for Sana.

“I’m…” she said, “I’m sorry if I said something stupid last night, Y/N”

The tears that welled on her eyes finally spilled. They didn’t only portray the regret of calling you while being drunk the night before, but also the actions that caused you to break up with her.

She was sorry. She didn’t mean anything that happened between you. She missed your dates, your hugs, the way your eyes shined when she stole kisses from you. Her bed felt empty every night and the urge of calling you hurt her so much.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw your smile and whenever she was able to sleep she dreamed about you.

Waking up only meant to realize that she was all alone and it only made her feel miserable.

She learned from her mistakes. She knew having you by your side was better than anything in the world and the way you showed her your love was enough for her to understand that no one could ever come between you two.

She knew it now.

All she wanted was a second chance to prove it to you. To prove that she could be better for the sake of your relationship.

One chance, that’s all she wanted to ask. Once chance to try again and show you it was possible.

But she couldn’t just say that.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered on the other side of the line.

Sana’s eyes widened when she realized that all the things that were supposed to stay in her head, ended up falling freely from her mouth for you to hear.

“And I know it’s gonna be rough but I also want to try again, Sana,” you continued, “promise me we’re not going to waste this chance?”

Her tears kept on falling but the sadness was long gone. She had a second shot at making things right.

“I promise, Y/N,” she said, wiping away her own tears with her hands. “I can’t wait to see you,” she whispered, laying again on her bed, not even caring her head was still buzzing, the sound of your voice made everything better.

“Get well fast so we can meet, pretty girl,” you answered.

“Come over and take care of me?,” she asked with a huge smile plastered on her face.

It made you chuckle. “I’m on my way”.

Sana was the happiest girl in the world.

#twice x reader #twice x f!reader #twice imagine #sana imagine #sana x f!reader #sana x reader #sana scenario #sana fluff #twice fluff #soulkeeper801

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kiss-me-cill-me · 4 months

Note

Can we get a part 2 of morning light where Jim gets to do all the things he wants to do to her 🙏

Okay, you've all convinced me. The world clearly demands more Jim, and who am I to deny the world? Nothing too crazy going on here, because I honestly see him as the type to still be a little hesitant in this situation, but he does get to have a bit more fun in this one lol.

Moon Light

Pairing: Jim (28 Days Later) x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Maybe moments of peace aren't as rare as you'd think, even during the apocalypse. Although, if you have anything to say about it, not all of Jim's moments with you will be quite so peaceful as the first.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of reader's recent loss of virginity, hair pulling, maybe some light manhandling, corruption kink if you really squint

A/N: This is a sequel to Morning Light, which you can read HERE!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

The end of a long day always makes you eager to crawl into bed. That heavy feeling that sweeps over your limbs after many hours of arduous hard work - scavenging or gardening or doing any one of the other dozens of small chores necessary for survival - is like a siren’s call to the pile of blankets that wait to enshroud you and Jim every night.

Today has been long for a… slightly different reason than usual. After your slow start to the day, it's been hard to focus on anything else but Jim. And now, pleasant memories of your shared morning together still float through your head as you press back lightly against Jim’s chest; the steady rise and fall of his breath lulling you into a state of half-sleep.

Jim’s body suddenly twitches behind you; his arms contracting momentarily as he falls deeper into his own slumber. You stir, roused from the edges of some dream that had been almost ready to claim you.

“Sorry, love - go back to sleep,” Jim murmurs.

He places a soft kiss on your temple, brushing his lips over a stray beam of moonlight that lands on the side of your face. You settle back, burrowing into the crevice of Jim’s arm that’s wrapped securely around you.

“M’not asleep,” you say, dreamily.

“Sounds like you are,” Jim teases, his breath still pleasantly warm on your neck.

He’s already nestled back into the pillows, nose pressing into the crook of your neck, lips lazily kissing you as he speaks.

“I’m not,” you insist, your voice a bit steadier.

And it’s true. You haven’t been able to sleep, even if you may have been teetering over the edge of it just a few seconds ago.

“Something wrong?” Jim asks. His own voice is sleepy but still clear; concern washing over his words as he pulls you just a bit closer.

“No. Just… thinking about earlier,” you reply.

Jim’s fingers against your waist tighten; almost too softly to notice. You might not have if not for the way your senses seem to be heightened; anticipating even the smallest movement.

“Earlier?” Jim’s voice now has the faintest hint of suggestion. “What’cha thinkin’ about earlier for?”

Your body wiggles against him; unable to hide your excitement at his slight teasing. As your back brushes just a bit lower, you don’t miss the feeling of something hard pressed up against you.

“Jim!” you squeal.

“What? You’re the one thinkin’ about it,” he hums, playfully holding your hips against his.

And he’s right; your mind is running wild. Racing with all kinds of thoughts and ideas about what he could do to you now. Now that you’d given yourself to him once.

There’s still so much time for you to explore, and to have him help you discover this new and exciting part of life. But… why bother to wait to get started?

“Jim…” you sigh, grinding back into him.

“What is it, love?”

He’s gentle as always, letting you take the lead. You press back even a little harder, testing the limits of his resolve.

“Touch me, Jim. Please.”

Jim doesn’t waste even a second with asking you whether you’re sure, this time. He must know, with the way your back arches into him, how badly you want him again. His hand snakes down, not quickly and not slow. Trying to hide his eagerness, unsuccessfully. You hum as he pushes past your waistband. All you have on is a pair of lace panties, and not much else aside from an old t-shirt. No wonder you were both getting ideas.

“You really have been thinking of me,” Jim laughs.

His fingers curl into the wetness that’s already gathered between your legs, not quite pushing past the soft resistance - to the place where you want him most desperately. Your walls flutter at the absence.

“’Course I have,” you reply. “Liked it that much, did ya?”

Jim’s voice is still slurred, heavy with the remnants of sleep even though he’s fully awake now. Before you can think of a response, you’re cut off by your own sudden gasp, as Jim’s fingers finally press inside you.

“Too much?” he asks.

“No - keep going. I like it.”

“Mmm. Wanna do more than just think about me?” Jim teases. “Want me to stop you from gettin’ yourself all bothered?”

“Yes.”

The word comes out a bit more desperately than you’d meant it to. But there’s no stopping yourself as Jim curls his fingers inside you, coaxing out more breathy sighs as you whimper against him.

Jim drags his fingers out of you, only to bring them up to pull down at your panties. You help him maneuver them over your hips, lifting your legs once they slide past your knees so that you can snatch them away. Under the blankets, Jim hurries to slip out of his own boxers. He’s wearing even less clothing than you are. All that’s between you now is your thin t-shirt.

“Wanna take this off, too?” Jim asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

You sit up for a second to pull the shirt off, then settle back down to rest against Jim’s chest. He’s already pressing between your thighs; rutting himself through the tight space of your legs. One of his hands comes up to messily grab at your breast; his fingertips pressing into the soft flesh.

“Want me to be gentle again, love?”

Your throat clenches at the dark tint in his words. You think back again to earlier, when Jim had promised to let himself do things to you that might break the rickety old bed that you shared. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of intimacy, you’re thrillingly eager to learn about other, slightly less soft and gentle sides.

“Am I allowed to say no?” you breathe.

“Only if you want to,” Jim says, laughing a little.

His hips thrust just a bit more roughly against you as you squeeze your thighs together. The drag of his hard length between your legs is making your head spin already. Jim brings his lips up to rest against your ear.

“You’re not the one who needs my permission, you know,” he teases. “Already told you how badly I’d like to have my way with you.”

You bring a hand up to cup over his, still squeezing into your breast. Your fingers brush lightly for just a moment, before clamping down and pressing his touch into your skin with an intensity that's unlike anything he’s dared to give you.

“Then no,” you say, your voice sounding soft even in the silence of the dark room. “This time, I don’t want to be gentle.”

Jim tears his hand away, leaving the soft flesh of your breast to instead grab roughly at your hip. In one swift movement, he has you pressed into the mattress, your chest shoved against the sheets as the blanket over you is torn off. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice a bit huskier now.

“I was kind of hoping you’d say that,” he admits, before pressing a quick kiss to the side of your face. “Just promise to let me know if you need me to stop.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Jim is pressing inside of you, taking it fairly slowly at first to give you a chance to adjust, but clawing against your hips the deeper he gets. You let out a soft whine, but press back to make him slide further into you, silently letting him know to continue.

The feeling is strange again at first, but now that you know what to expect, you adjust quickly. Jim stays still for a moment, then tilts his hips, hitting the same spot inside you that made you go crazy earlier. You see sparks, and grab at the bedsheets.

“You take me so well,” Jim praises, starting to move at a slow rhythm.

You arch your back, desperate for him to do more; go faster. He’s still being too gentle, and while part of you is grateful, what you really want is for him to let loose. He’s strong, though, and each thrust pushes you into the mattress. Your hips rise to meet him, and your face presses deeper into the pillow.

“You’ve got no clue how hard it is to hold back with you,” Jim growls above you.

You feel your walls clench down around him, and Jim lets out a hiss. His fingers are so tight against your hips that it feels like he might sink into your skin. You moan, desperate for more; desperate to make him pump into you and chase his own high.

“Don’t hold back, then,” you beg, wriggling as much as you can with him holding you.

“You need to pace yourself, love,” Jim grunts, the exertion of restraint creeping into his voice.

“I told you to not be gentle.”

Your voice is almost a whine at this point, and you feel Jim’s hips stutter against you. He regains his composure quickly, pistoning in with another sharp thrust. That’s more like it, and you hum in approval.

“This still too gentle for you?” Jim teases, leaning down to press into your back. “God - fuck her once and she’s already begging for me to corrupt her.”

You let out a small squeak as Jim grabs a generous fist of your hair, pulling your neck back a few inches as he gives it a soft tug at the roots.

“But alright, love. I can be a bit rough with ya.” Jim pulls your hair again, and you sigh, sinfully. “Too bad, though. You were such a nice girl.”

The smirk in Jim’s words makes you grin. This is exactly what you wanted from him, and you listen with growing thirst as the sound of his hips snapping into you fills the small room. His pace is getting faster now; the sound of his breath speeding up to match. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling back sharply with each thrust. You let yourself give in to the pleasure of knowing he's close; enjoying the ride as Jim chases his high. All of a sudden, he stops - pulls out and flips you over so that you’re laid on your back, looking up at him.

“Touch yourself,” Jim gasps, lining back up without pause. “Wanna see your face when you come.”

It takes you a second, between the distracting heat that blossoms over your chest, and the feel of him pressing back into you; stretching your walls as he picks up just where he left off. But you do, once you’ve gathered your thoughts well enough, bring a hand down to play with yourself as Jim continues to thrust.

“Fuck - might not last long enough for you to do it,” Jim laughs, more than a little out of breath.

He stops, pressing into you one more time before pulling back, still half inside of you as he looks down, watching your fingers knead over your clit.

“That’s it, love. Oh, fuck - keep going. Need you to come like this.”

He starts to move again, more hesitantly. Wary of finishing before you’ve had a chance to do the same. It’s hard not to make quick work of yourself with Jim nearly growling over you, and soon you feel yourself tip over the edge.

Jim lets out a string of curses as you feel yourself clench hard around him. And just as quickly, he’s lifting you up, one hand snaking under your waist while the other comes up to grab hold of the headboard. He pounds into you with your hips raised shakily off of the mattress, desperate and making you grab at the bed sheets just to avoid getting pushed by the force.

Finally, Jim pulls out with a sharp breath, letting himself sink down to nestle his face in your neck as he screams weakly.

“Shhhhit… fuck,” Jim groans.

He’s still holding you up, your body half hovering over the mattress, your shoulders pressed into the pillows. The sheets below you are ruined, to say the least - until you have a chance to bring them down to the river and wash them, in any case.

“Sorry,” Jim laughs, clearly embarrassed. “Got a little carried away there…”

You giggle and look up at him still bracing himself against the headboard. Carefully, you push Jim across to the less messy side of the bed, flipping him over. Once he’s on his back, you straddle him, feeling the dampness that still lingers against your core as it presses into his stomach.

“Why do I have a very bad feeling that I’ve awakened something in you?” Jim chuckles.

You don’t reply, until you’ve had a chance to lean down and give him a long, steamy kiss on the lips. Only then do you pull away.

“Because you have,” you confirm.

You and Jim both laugh as he flips you over again so that you’re stretched out below him, looking up at his playful eyes in the hazy moonlight.

“Well, since the sheets are already half ruined,” Jim says. “What d’you say we finish ‘em off?”

You nod, already wrapping your legs around him.

“Told you I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor,” you laugh.

#jim 28 days later #jim 28 days later x reader #jim 28 days later smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #28 days later smut #LemmyFics

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cumikering · 8 months

Text

Possessive bf Soap x reader 5 (end)

2.2k | angst, comfort, swearing Be Kind: Soap didn’t know he could cry (Part 1)

Soap froze at the faint click of the door. His heart leapt out of his chest, but he knew better than to let his mind play tricks on him again.

“W- who’s that?”

“I’m sorry,” came your weak reply.

He ran right to you, dropping to his knees. “No, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” He wrapped his arms around you, face pressed hard onto your stomach, muffling his words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted, his tears falling.

You stoked his hair, your nails grazing his scalp how he loved it.

He looked up to you, eyes wide.

“I love you, Johnny. Always.” You smiled down at him, wiping his tears away with your thumb.

It sent him sobbing all over again, clutching even tighter at you.

Soap stayed with you for a moment longer before once again waking up, alone in his bed with tears down his face. He curled up, breaking down as reality dawned on him, bitter, ugly tears soaking his pillow.

He couldn’t decide which one hurt more – that you never came back or that he couldn’t even be with you in a fucking dream. He had never experienced such anguish before, so numb at that cold night. This was miserable. He was miserable. Life felt like a huge prank relentlessly played on him.

In desperation, he went to the tech department on base first thing in the morning. He knew you’d hate him for doing this, but he had to make sure you were okay. The torture had gone on too long.

I’m sorry I had to look you up, but you’re still in town. It’s been 4 months. Let me see you. Please. I can’t take this anymore, he texted, adding to the hundreds of other texts you never replied to.

Soap was still in a grave mood that night - dreaming of you always messed him up for days. He sighed as the chucked his leftovers in the fridge. It was yet another dinner alone in silence and he couldn’t even palate more than half of it. Instead, he poured himself the fancy scotch you got him for your anniversary the year before - the one he only drank with you that evening and never touched again until you left.

At least he could allow his mind to drift back to that night as he stared out, forehead pressing onto the window. He reminisced about smelling it on you as you danced together in the living room, your eyes bright as you giggled.

He almost didn’t hear the door closing. His head whipped at the noise to find you standing in the hallway. His eyes widened as his breath hitched, unsure if he was hallucinating.

“Johnny,” you called, your small voice regretful.

He practically leapt to you, pulling you into his arms before you slipped away again.

“Lass-“ It was all he could muster before breaking down, pulling you flush to him. “I can’t- You-“ he choked on his words.

Soap didn’t realise he had so many tears to cry. Maybe it was the alcohol too, but seeing you amplified the pain. He was supposed to be relieved, lighter, but instead he sobbed into your hair. Seeing you in person reminded him again of how he’d truly messed up, what he wasted. Now that you flooded his senses, the weight of everything all at once crushed him.

“Hush, hush. It’s okay, Johnny.” You stroked the back of his head.

The simple gesture meant world to him. It transported him back to the good times, the simpler times when there was no pain, when all you did was look at each other in bed, your fingers playing with his hair. He missed your body, of course, but what he really missed was you. The whispers of your sweet nothings, the stolen kisses, the hand-holding and the giggles in the dark. He yearned for the way you set his spirit ablaze.

Fuck, he lost them all. He wasted it all.

You pulled away to sit on the floor, tugging him to follow. His head rested on your lap as his body curled.

His face burnt up and he knew he looked appalling. His wrecked face couldn’t have done him favours in his attempt to win you back. But you let him cry, for hours if he needed to, soothing him how you could. There was no part of him you didn’t already love.

With a slight hiccup remaining, he muttered against your shirt, “I’m sorry, lass. I really am. I’m so sorry.” He was too ashamed to look at you.

You hummed, still caressing his face.

He didn’t want to say anything else in fear of ruining this. He wanted to be stuck in the moment, hoarding any fragment of you before you left again –this was all he got. You had stolen his soul and he was at your mercy. But still, his heart raced as he found the words.

“Did you… Did you find somebody else?” He pressed his face closer against you, bracing for your answer to yank him out of yet another dream.

“You look like shit, Johnny,” you smiled through the tears.

“I am. I am shite for what I did to you, and I’m shite without you.”

Under the dim lights, the bags under his eyes looked more prominent. His mohawk long gone, his hair and facial hair unkempt. He’d lost some weight too, his arms didn’t bulge like they used to.

“I love you anyway.”

He turned to you, near tears again when his blue eyes met your tender gaze. He sat up to hug you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “I love you. I never said it enough. Fuck, I love you so much.” He couldn’t hold a tear off.

You sighed. “I need to apologise, for ignoring you for so long. I have no excuse. That wasn’t right of me to do.”

He pulled away. “You have nothing to apologise for. I don’t care what happened. I just want you, lass. We’ll put it all behind.”

You forced a smile, but your heart shattered at his tear-stained face. “I’m here to say goodbye, Johnny,” you whispered, voice cracked.

“Lass, no. Please.” He grabbed your wrists. “Please…”

“It’s the least I can do. After all we’ve been through, I owe you this. I owe this to the corpse of our love.”

He shook his head.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you admitted. “I know it’s not one partner’s fault when a relationship fails, but I keep thinking maybe things would have been different had I been different. Maybe I should have pestered you to talk even when you didn’t want to. Maybe I shouldn’t have let things slide, or forgiven without an apology. But whatever it is, I’ve been unhappy and I don’t want to be anymore.”

“Don’t you love me anymore?”

“I do. I think I love you too much to ask for you to change, to make me happier. That should be my own responsibility.”

“But I want to make you happy. I know it was my fault. I will change for you.”

“I don’t want you to,” you said, before continuing in a smaller voice. “I don’t think you can.”

He leaned away, avoiding your gaze. “I… I need to tell you this. What happened at Las Almas apparently really fucked me up. Some of the lads came back with the same problem too. They sent me to therapy, but I didn’t cooperate until after you left.”

“Oh, Johnny... I had no idea.” Thinking how much he had to suffer so long on his own felt like a stab in your chest.

“It was my fault. I was too ashamed to admit it messed me up. I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t as tough as I thought.” He combed through his hair. “I realised my ego got in the way and hurt you. I hurt you, for months, and that was unbelievably selfish of me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“But I know having you come back to the same rubbish would be stupid, so I got my shite together. Well, trying anyway…” He laughed a little to himself, shaking his head. “I wish it was that fucking easy, because if I’m honest, I don’t even think it’s doing much at all.

“But I was the one who started all this. I brought dirt to this home and refused to clean it up, and that’s my fault. You were nothing but an angel to me, and I treated you like shite.” He looked up at you. “I’m trying to be better. I’m just asking you for a chance to prove myself, please.”

You reached for his face and he leaned in, savouring your touch. It could very well be the last. He sighed, closing his eyes as another tear slipped.

“I’m beating each and every one of my demons up, and I’m getting them to dress up and behave to welcome you home. I’ll get them in line, just to have you back.” He opened his eyes, looking right at you. “I don’t care what it takes. I swear I will have to die to let you go again.”

You came with your mind made up, yet your heart was mush in his hands again. Your tears poured as you gazed at the eyes you never got tired of. Why did love have to hurt this much?

“Why now, Johnny? Why do you only care now? Why did I have to be in so much pain, for so long, for you to only say all these things now?” you chocked.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot. I took you for granted and I’ve been regretting it every single day. Please, give me a week, a day or just a few hours would do. Let me show you how much you mean to me, lass.”

You wrapped your arms around him, your tears streaking his shoulder as your body shook.

“I’m sorry lass, that I hurt you so much.” He patted your head. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

He removed your shoes and coat before scooping you up, your body limp in his arms. He sat you on the bed, gently brushing your hair as he knelt beside you. Every so often, he’d wipe away your tears with the softest touch. You couldn’t help that they continued to flow. The pain didn’t dissolve.

You were wordless for the rest of the night while Soap whispered his apologises for everything he could recall. He told you all the things he loved about you – your sweet voice, the way you laughed, the kindness in your forgiving spirit. His sweet nothings didn’t cease even well until you fell asleep in his arms where you belonged.

You felt the caresses on your cheek, the strokes on your hair and the whisper of kisses on your face. It all felt like a distant dream, the sweetest memory of being safe and adored.

He was hopelessly, unapologetically yours - the other half of you. Your souls disarmed with a contended sigh, curling up into each other. The hands of time rewind to a spell of bliss.

It was the best sleep the both of you had in a long time.

The following months, you saw the best version of Soap you could ever imagine. Therapy seemed to work well for him only if he was willing to be vulnerable, and you couldn’t be prouder of the effort he put in to be better for the relationship.

He stopped internalising when it came to you, someone he trusted to never hurt him on purpose. He expressed his gratitude more often, using words the way they were meant to – to bring souls together, not push apart. When there was friction, he took his time to process his feelings before addressing the issue with sense and carefully chosen words. You supported him through his tough times, even if you could only offer your embrace and kisses to his forehead, yet they were all he needed from you.

You both took your time learning to love again. With fresh eyes, the company was as exciting as when you first dated. But this time, he wouldn’t let any moment pass without appreciating it. He journaled more so he could look back at the memories, especially when he was away.

The night was unusually quiet at the hour, no rowdy chatter on the streets, cars in the distance almost inaudible. The light from afar, softened by the curtains into a faint glow, barely outlined your figures in the bed you never wanted to leave. Tangled with Soap in the soft sheets, you knew nothing better in the world. You caressed his cheek, wishing for something beyond endless.

“Why did it have to take so long to get good?”

He brought your joint hands to his lips.

“Remember, on your birthday exactly two years ago? We laid here, just like this.” A tear escaped as your voice shook. “I thought I’d die without you.”

“Did you?” he whispered.

“I did.”

“I’d have followed you to the graveyard.”

Taglist: @sofasoap @thewizardarson @liyanahelena @kenma-izhu @devcica @ohlawdthebirds @capuccino192 @perseusdreams @9irly9irl @jklkverr

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mixsethaddams · 11 months

Text

Soft Steddie summertime ficlet. Pure fluff. ~1700 words. No ratings or warnings.

Twitter got it first but tumblr got spellchecked 😹

One of Steve’s favourite things to do on a hot summer morning, was to stay in bed.

It was his own little form of rebellion. After years of being forced to get up at the crack of dawn to ‘not waste the weather!’ as a kid, he loved nothing more as an adult than to listen to the bird song through the window, muffled by the closed drapes.

He wasn’t always able to break the habit of a lifetime. He spent a long time after his parents stopped coming home still hauling himself up with the sun and berating himself into doing something that was worthy of the good day.

Some people didn’t have the luxury of getting up and going out to enjoy a hot day, so he should just be grateful. He spent more days than he could count sitting at the edge of the quarry, watching the gang play in the water. They loved it when Steve called to see if they wanted to do something for the day. They’d still be half asleep whereas he would’ve been awake for hours, waiting for a reasonable time to pick up the phone.

He would sit with a hot coffee, another little ‘fuck you’ to his mother. He loved warm drinks on sunny days, the way the extra heat made the tip of his nose prickle. His mother insisted he only ever have the awful homemade lemonade she never made sweet enough and steeped the peels in for too long. It was bitter enough to make Steve gag if he didn’t brace himself properly for it.

It wasn’t until the arrival of Eddie Munson that things started to shift for Steve.

He noticed it for the first time when, at one of the many quarry days, Eddie stole a long mouthful of Steve’s coffee before lighting a cigarette and settling down onto the rocky beach next to him.

“Fuck that’s good,” muttered Eddie, wiping a stray drop from his chin.

Steve stared in half-disbelief. Everyone made fun of his little thermos before now.

Steve felt a familiar flutter in his chest.

He’d been ignoring it up until now, convincing himself it was nothing because how could it be, they had nothing in common? Surviving a bizarre mind wizard’s attempt to end the world doesn’t exactly count as a ‘shared interest’.

Steve tested the waters slowly throughout the rest of the day. Nothing too crazy, nothing too deep. Just to see how close to his own opinions Eddie’s answers would land.

“Ed, I’m gonna do an ice cream run. Whats your favourite?”

“Anything lemon lime, man, thanks”

Steve’s favourite was the lemon lime popsicle.

“I got some snacks too, here, which one do you want?”

“Oh shit is that a Baby Ruth? I’m taking that, fuck the kids”

Steve had bought himself that same candy bar.

But Steve shook himself off again because come on, really? They were like, the two most popular things out there.

Only when the kids emerged from the water for their lunch did Steve see a little more of what they had in common.

There were pouts all round when the rules of an on-the-spot game were in dispute.

Voices spoke over each other to get the adults to agree that they were right and their rules were the ones that should be followed.

Steve sighed and prepared himself. Of course, the only options were to either find a new game entirely, or figure out the rules again together as group, right from the beginning.

Steve was used to being fought every step of the way on things like this. Robin and Nancy would make unhelpful comments in jest, and Steve would end up the bad guy for at least two of the gang.

He was about to open his mouth to propose his solution, when Eddie beat him to it.

“So find another fuckin’ game?”

Eddie said it so easily, licking melted popsicle juice from the side of his hand.

“But-!” The protests came immediately. Steve readied himself to dive in.

But Eddie spoke first again.

“If you can’t agree on this one, find another one,” he said firmly. “You wanna sit out here and talk about rules for an hour until its all straightened out?”

Heads shook.

“Didn’t think so. Now fuck off, you’re in my sun,”

Steve watched with wide eyes as the kids, who were really almost college aged by now, went happily back to the water.

“How did you do that?” asked Steve.

“Do what?”

“Make them listen!”

Eddie laughed.

“They had two options, they picked one, simple,” said Eddie with a shrug.

Steve watched Eddie carefully, waiting for more of an explanation that never came.

“What, you had a different solution?” asked Eddie.

Steve shook his head.

“Thats exactly what I was going to say,” said Steve, looking out to the water where they were playing together merrily.

“We good?” asked Eddie slowly, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah!” said Steve quickly, realising he’d been staring. “Not used to having someone on my side when they start fighting, thats all,”

Eddie hummed and went back to his candy, occassionally stealing more of Steve’s coffee.

When the sun was finally lowering in the sky and the water was getting that little bit too cool to be enjoyable, Steve and Eddie shared the last cigarette in the pack while everyone else towelled off and gathered their stuff.

“So what, uh…” started Steve. “What would you usually do on a day like this? Or is this your thing?”

Steve was curious if all the little shared enjoyments and opinions of the day would continue. If it would amount to the thing at the top of Steve’s list, that he’d been bred to believe as ‘shameful’.

Eddie hummed around the butt of their cigarette before passing it back to Steve, giving him the last drag.

“Big plans for days like this, Harrington,” said Eddie, stretching out and resting back on his elbows.

Steve felt his stomach twist. He’d gotten it wrong. That was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. Steve was used to thinking he’d found someone he could be himself around and then realising he was wrong.

“I would’ve stayed in bed all damn day,” said Eddie, smiling softly up at the sky.

Wait. What?

“You…bed?” stuttered Steve. “Seriously?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” mumbled Eddie. “Don’t waste the day or whatever. You ever stayed in a dark room when its sunny out? Life changing, man. Ultimate relaxation knowing you’re choosing comfort over convention. Trust me,”

Steve was stunned.

“I…I was thinking the same,” admitted Steve.

“It’s nice,” he muttered, not looking up at Eddie and feeling embarrassed somehow. “I like listening to the, um, to the birds, you know? But still being in bed,”

Eddie nodded his head.

“I totally get it,” agreed Eddie, smiling wide. Steve’s chest felt like it was about to burst when they made eye contact.

“Wonder what else we have in common,” said Eddie coyly, leaning in to knock his shoulder against Steve’s hip.

They found out later that night that they both liked a lot of the same things.

They liked how each other sounded when they giggled softly through their first kiss, sitting on the roof of Eddie’s trailer and watching the stars.

They found out they both liked teasing fingertips and gentle pushing and pulling in the right direction.

They found out they both liked to sleep holding hands to ground them against the anxiety that still plagued their little group.

They liked the bubble they created between themselves, and filled it quickly with love.

And now, late into the morning of a blazing hot mid summer day. The phone off the hook since the night before and the walkies designated for emergency use only.

They were lying together, curled up and bordering on too hot under the blanket, listening to the birds.

They listened as the rest of the neighbourhood woke up and spurred to life, cars starting and families yelling.

It was a few weeks since that day at the quarry.

Steve and Eddie had spent every night and most of every day together. They agreed on everything. Well, except pizza toppings, but Eddie would eat all the olives so it was fine. Steve’s dad had once told him that in a business if two people agree on everything, you don’t need to keep them both around.

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie and said a silent prayer that he never tried to treat a relationship like a business. That was his parents’ mistake, he thought.

It was all very new. Some people still didn’t know the true nature of their increased ‘sleepovers’, but Steve was already aghast at the idea of being without Eddie again.

He knew they’d argue eventually. They’d find a tipping point on something that they wouldn’t see eye to eye on. Steve was ready for that day. He didn’t want to think of them ever fighting but he was realistic. Steve just knew he would never make the same mistakes as his parents did, and he’d do everything he could come out the other side with his Eddie still under his arm.

Eddie stirred fully awake when a car horn blared from down the street.

“Mmmmph!” he whined. “They scared the fucking birds away,”

Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighed and nuzzled in closer, settling himself in Steve’s neck with a contented hum.

“We doin’ anything today?” murmered Eddie.

Steve stroked his back in long, slow waves.

“Just this,” he whispered.

Eddie nodded, and his body soon went lax as he he drifted back to sleep.

Steve felt like crying, in fact he thought he might. He closed his eyes and rubbed his nose into Eddie’s hair. Steve was almost surprised at the overwhelming wave of contentment that crashed over him.

Years spent feeling guilt for not ‘enjoying the sun’ were slowly ebbing away. How could he feel bad over what he was doing now? How could the love, and safety he felt now, be bad?

Steve selfishly thought he would sacrifice ever seeing the sun again, if every morning was like this.

And it had been, hadn’t it? For weeks now. Steve woke up feeling just like this, for weeks.

Steve smiled to himself and tightened his hold on Eddie’s body. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he settled himself into his pillow.

The birds returned and resumed their song.

And for hours, Steve listened.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #seth writes #steve x eddie #steddie fic #probably still a fee typos hanging around #fluff fic #soft fic #summer fic

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bluetooththereptile · 2 years

Text

Unwanted embrace

Neglected Bat-family member x yandere Bruce wayne

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Tw: mentions of past neglect

Closing your closet you sighed, ripping the justice leage mark away from your costume, you no longer needed that, it once was your dream to work there as hero, save lives and protect humanity, but now you just saw it as a useless badge that just made you remember things you wanted to bury deep down in your mind and never think about them again. You had told Superman that you were going to quit just an hour ago, and you didn’t wait for other members to even protest when he agreed about it and went to gather your things up.

Once becoming a hero was your dream, you worked so hard on your powers to reach the level that you could be considering worthy enough to join the league, you were one of the youngest members of it, you were only 18, no, today you would turn 19, as Alfred had reminded you by a call this morning you two had. He was shocked you had forgotten your own birthday, maybe you were to used to it getting forgotten that you had thought of it as an unimportant date and had forgotten it, well it was the day you were pulled out from the safe and sound womb of your mother, born to the world you no longer wanted to be a part of.

You picked your baggage up and flipped the mark in your hand as you walked out of the locker room, putting the badge in Barry’s hands you gave him a half smile which was filled witj bitterness “It was good to work with you!” Barry opened his mouth “But (Y/N) you had just joined six months ago! weren’t you the one that wanted to beat anyone in the younger league to find a place here?” You just shrugged “I have lost interest…” you simply said ignoring Diana nag about you being selfish and leaving when you were needed the most, you waved them good bye and walked out of the justice hall, the dark rainy evening doing nothing good to your mood.

You took your mask off and took in a deep breath as your head lowered, now that you were old enough to leave home, you had so many plans to catch and it was rather overwhelming. You uncle had opened his home’s door for you, suggesting that you could stay with him for a while, till you could find the job you wanted the most, you had the money after all, years of trying to be independent were paying themselves off. You searched your bag for your car’s key, cursing under your breath as lightning hit the sky, which meant more rain.

The lightning brightened your surroundings for a second, giving you the ability to see a tall shadow that was looming over you. You made yourself busy, ignoring the black knight standing behind you “(Y/N)” hearing your name from him made goosebumps appear on your skin, when was the last time he had called you by your name? You turned around, to see him standing there, staring at you, finally, giving you his full attention “What do you want batman?” you said, now taking a step back, clenching the bag in your hand.

“I’ve heard you quit your place…why?” you couldn’t help but scoff at that, he was “the world’s best detective” he didn’t know the reason? “What do you think?” you said, arching your brow, but when you were met with silence you sighed, palming your face “Why I am wasting my time talking to you?” you asked yourself, hair now damp with rain “Because I am your father and I know how much hard you worked to get here” he said, face still emotionless but his voice held some hints of…desperation? You scoffed louder at that “My father…” you mumbled to yourself “How dare you call yourself my father?” you asked, fingers curling up into a fist “If it wasn’t for me leaving the manor you wouldn’t be reminded that I even existed there as a "family member” you mocked “Cut this crap…I have to be somewhere soon…” you said turning away.

“Look (Y/N) I understand-” you turned to face him again shouting “It’s (Y/H/N) to you batman! i am no longer your child! When was the last time you wanted to talk to me like this? wasn’t it my first day of school? how can you understand this? yes you lost your parents when you were a child but I did mine too! my mother that you never even care to hide your hatred for her died at giving birth to me and you were to disgusted by your own child that you hardly coped with me being there, isn’t it the truth hmm?” you said now walking toward him “You were never there batman… I didn’t have a father, I just had sire that paid for my life, when was the last time you asked me what I needed then your money? Oh right you were busy with tending to your growing family!” you pushed him on the chest not so gently, staring at him, eyes full of hatred as tears made them glossy “Do you even know how old I am?” you said now voice sad, yet firm.

Bruce looked at you without saying anything, he didn’t have anything to say, you were the result of his darkest days, when your mother had manipulated him and had given birth to you, but she was not lucky to live longer and enjoy his wealth, he wanted to forget her, forget everything that belonged to that time, including you…his own child. He turned his head away from you not coping to look at you in the eyes anymore. You scoffed bitterly “That’s what I expected from you, now go! your family must be missing you, isn’t your "baby” alone?“ you spat into his face, remembering how he had not let his other child, that was at Damian’s age, to become a hero like you did. To tell the truth you had joined to prove yourself to him, the man that had ignored your gifts that you would make by your own hands for father’s day, Alfred was the one that took them happily, complimenting about it even if it was nothing special, your little heart was broken but you had seen him take care of other members of the family and you wanted that love too, but he didn’t even care to spare you a glance.

You were a mistake, as he had told Alfred years ago, he wanted you gone. That was why you were both angry and confused right now, why he was there? "listen (Y/N)…let’s go home and talk about this properly alright?” He said trying to reach for your hand which you moved away quickly “For what? you want to lock me up there too?” you had seen what he did to his “baby” the poor child was spoiled rotten with his attention but he didn’t let her go for a mere second “though I’m sure you just want to make an excuse to say "I did what I could they left on their own!” I’m not a child anymore batman…and for the second time if you call me by my name again I’ll punch you in the face! that name is what my mother chose for me, you can not use that…you are not worthy of it!“

Bruce looked at you as your words sunk inside his mind, adding fuel to the storm that was making the guilt in his chest even more heavy. How you had become such a wonderful creature? powerful, independent…all on your own? and he didn’t have any part at any of it. The moment Alfred had informed him that you had left the manor the covers that he had put on the dark parts of his mind were pulled away, revealing you, his first child, whom had even changed their last name from "Wayne” to your mother’s not wanting to have anything to do with him. He wanted to fix that part of his life, he wanted to start it with you, but it seemed it was to late…no, it was not, you were his child, and he would be damned if he ever disappoint you again, you were family, and he was going to shove it in your mind if he could to make you understand.

He took your arm and held it gently but his grip was firm “We can talk about this later…you’ll catch a cold like this!” You were dumbfounded by what he had said for a second, good so he still had the surprise tactic against you, but it didn’t last long as the confusion gave place to anger and you pulled your arm out of his grip “It’s none of your business!” you hissed and walked away, looking for your car. You thought it was the last time you were meeting him, but you would be proven wrong…oh so wrong “My child…” he told himself as he watched you walk away “My baby…”

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harrysmimi · 1 year

Text

Puppy Face

Synopsis: One where Harry gets his second promised date

Series Masterlist | More of my work

Sunday morning,

YN was going to work her weekend shift today to fill in for one of her colleagues. They were always short staffed on weekends.

Opening up was the only thing she hated about her job. She has to wake up at five-thirty in the morning, go to the cafe by seven and get place ready for it to open up at nine in the morning.

It's been two whole weeks and couple of days over since her date with Harry. They have been texting back and forth non stop since, staying up on video calls at late at night.

Now it was sure the second date was something to happen and she wanted it to be on her. So she picked up her phone the first thing when her alarm went off to text him asking if he was free today.

- Good Morning!

YN didn't know why she was waited five whole minutes staring at her phone to see those three dots appear on her screen. He was offline and it was it was half past five in the morning and as far as she knew, he'd returned just yesterday afternoon from LA. He was there for his movie premiere.

Frustrated about having to wake up early she wanted to throw her phone across the room. But she opted not to, she bought it very recently and it was expensive. She placed her phone carefully on the side table as she went to get ready and leave her house by seven-thirty.

At around ten she went back to the break room to have her breakfast. Harry still hadn't texted her back. Sadly she shoved pancake in her mouth, she had to eat as she couldn't skip her medications.

Why is she feeling so many emotions since she woke up?

But he never takes more than ten minutes to respond. Or when he's busy he'd send in a little apology and a promise to get back as soon as he can. He must be sleeping but he's told her he never sleeps past nine. And it was nearing to afternoon now. It worried her but also made her a teeny bit upset.

Luckily for her the cafe was very busy today, it kept her distracted. She better get her overtime for this or she is going to flip out. Busy house also meant more entitled customers which was annoying her more and more. And Harry is yet to text her back!

"Stop it YN! Calm down!" She mumbled to herself going back to the break room after dealing with a very annoying customer who wasted an hour and half of her time, "you're okay! You're okay!"

"YN? You alright?" Her manager approached her.

"Yeah, I am." She nodded, ,thank you Jennifer, she was just so annoying."

"I know, just take some time to yourself yeah? I'll fill in for you meanwhile." She offered.

"Yeah, I just need five minutes." YN agreed.

This was really beautiful thing about working where YN worked. Everyone was just so respectful of each other. All employees taking upon themselves to make the work environment as humble and warm as possible. Not to mention the manager is a sweetheart!

She was about to head back to work when her phone chimed four times with the usual happy tune. It was half past three now. Way past her lunch time and her day was falling apart like a puff pastry. All it took to put it back together was a text she was waiting for.

H💚

- Hello my darling, good afternoon!

- I am sorry I slept in late

- Just woke up to your text

- Why were you up at 5.30?

He slept till this late? YN wondered. He must have been really tired then. That little pet name warmed her heart so much.

- Hiya!

- No, it's okay!

- I have work today. Had to open today.

- How are you?

H💚

- A little tired from the flight thank you for asking <3

She smiled at the little heart. Feeling proud to be one to introduce him to different emojis. He was confused seeing the emoji made of a mathematical symbol and number.

- Do you have any plans today?

She pressed the send button nervously. She has been thinking about this from last week since he left for his movie promotion, first in New York and then in LA.

H💚

- No. Not yet.

Okay! So now she's gonna have to do it. She sat down to keep herself calm. She typed her questions all three times, rephrasing it to the perfection. Listen, English is not her first language and she hasn't asked anyone on a date.

- Do you want to come over for dinner at mine?

H💚

- What's the occasion? :))

God he's annoying sometimes! What was the occasion? Nothing. There was no occasion. Can a date be an occasion?

- Nothing...

- I was going to make Biryani tonight

That's the truth. She was. Only if he agrees though because it wouldn't be worth the work just for herself.

H💚

- I'd like me some Biryani!

- Especially if you're making it

"Awe!" She found herself cooing at her phone like an complete idiot! Shaking her head she typed her response.

- Okay. Would 8.30 work for you?

She pressed send.

H💚

- Works for me.

- See you tonight then, yeah?

YN is very excited.

- see ya xx

She finally locked her phone and just as she was about to place it back in the safe shelf before get back to work it chimed again. Another text from Harry.

H💚

- Is this a date?

God! He is so cheeky!

- Of course it is! Do you want it to be?

She could imagine him giggling at his phone just like she is right now.

H💚

- oh! Did I sent it?

YN laughed audibly loud earning a weird confused look from her manager, but she smiled and got back to her work. That's what she ended up saying

- No! I am a psychic :)

H💚

- hahahaha cheeky!

- I'll see you tonight love xx

YN locked her phone and finally placed it back in the safe shelf in the break room.

"Jen, can I clock out an hour early today?" She asked.

"Sure, if you want to." The blonde nodded in agreement. YN nodded and walked to the till to continue her work.

......................................................................

YN went back home all giddy and happy. After a short shower - she sure smelled like coffee after she accidentally drenched herself with espresso today and ruined one of her white T-shirt at the sleeves - she got to cooking.

It took her longer than she expected. Taking the risk to call her annoying grandma for a short recap of the recipe she taught her years ago. So add to the pile bad things happening to her today, she cut herself whilst making some salad. She was barely done by eight-thirty and Harry was already knocking on the door.

She looked around and found the mess of amazing box half open on her coffee table which arrived just after she reached home. It looked messy but she went to get the door as it would be impolite to make him stand and wait outside. She also forgot to feed McFish.

"Hey you," Harry beamed when she opened the door.

"Hey you," she stepped aside he can get in and she can shut the door. He tackled her with a bear warm embrace at the door wrapping his arms around her middle. Serotonin clouded her brain feeling him smooshing his face in her hair but she wasted no time in returning the affectionate gesture draping her own arms around his shoulders.

"I missed you." He mumbled not willing to let go of her. She wouldn't lie she did too. She missed seeing his beaming face as he walked into the cafe every morning in person. Hearing his raspy deep voice every morning which readied her to face those annoying customers who walked through the threshold everyday without a fail.

As a fan she really liked seeing him everyday. But she still treated him like every other of her customers assuming it must be pretty frustrating for him being given special treatment just solely based on his social status. She just gree to be good friends with him, like few other people who visited who also went to the same college as hers but were her juniors or seniors. She just especially looked forward to seeing him everyday. And she indeed missed that, a little too much for her liking.

"I missed you too." She cooed and reluctantly pulled away from his arms remembering there is food on the stove. "Come in please, I need to check on the food."

"Mhmm." He nodded and took off his shoes placing them neatly on the side. He walked in.

His second time here and he could still smell the same incense he came across last time but he couldn't quite put his mind at what it was, sandal wood and roses he could smell. No doubt that's what gives her home a zen feel making it much more cosy. He could also smell the fresh spices and fragrant rice in the air. He went to greet His Highness, McFish.

"Can I feed him?" He asked, after a good couple minutes of silence. He was sat on the same chair as before looking at her fish.

"Hmm?" YN looked up at him from the kitchen, the small kitchen Island separated kitchen from the living room.

"Your fish," he said, "can I feed him?"

"Oh sure, I forgot to do that today." She nodded.

"How much do you give him always?" He picked up the blue jar of food which was neatly kept next to the aquarium along with a green and red one.

Even fishes eat different flavours of food? He found that amusing.

"Just half a pinch, or less." She shared, "it's easy to over feed them."

"Mhmm." He acknowledged her information as he proceeded to lift up the lid of the aquarium seeing the fish already swim up to the top. He dropped in a few palettes of his in the water being careful of the water filter.

"You can turn off the filter and oxygen until he eats." YN said, she was still checking up on the food he found.

"Okay." He nodded and turned the switch off. It made sense, if the fish isn't fast enough all his food could be sucked in by the water filter. Lastly he closed the lid back up.

YN was finally done. "Food is done, do you want to eat now?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Lemme help you." He walked over to her.

"No it's fine." She protested.

"No, I want to!" He's stubborn, amd picked up the bowl of veggies chopped up in nice perfect cubes, drenched in something white - it must be some kind of cream, mayo? Yogurt? Curd? He didn't know but it looked delicious and he was a little hungry to be honest. "I'll take these." He took the places and the bowl of salad out to the table. YN brought in another bowl with Biryani she made, and water.

"Oh, you need a spoon? YN asked realising she haven't got any utensils apart from the serving spoon.

"Hey, what happened to your hand?" He asked distracted seeing a tissue paper wrapped around her finger as a make shift band-aid.

"I cut myself, it's fine." She shared. "I don't have any band-aid so I just wrapped this around my finger."

"You could have been careful!" He scolded her rightfully being mad. Grabbing her hand he made her sit on the spare chair pulling his own next to hers, he fetched for his wallet in his back pocket and took out a band-aid from it. "It's such a deep wound YN!" He glanced at her with his brows furrowed after he took off the tissue paper around her finger, to replace it with an actual band-aid.

He felt so bad that she hurt herself cooking for him and her. Though he was very well aware that she cooks at home everytime, accidents happens for him to feel a little a mad and upset about it.

"It doesn't happen often with me, I was talking to Brielle, my friend on the phone and it just... Happened." She shrugged, staring at him as he seemed much more concentrated on tending to her teeny tiny wound which didn't even hurt that much. She found it amusing how he carried spare Band-aids around with him in his wallet.

She couldn't fathom how pretty he is! Even more prettier in person inside and out, come on he's tending to her teeny tiny wound like it's a very big deal!

She looked at him how he blew soft air on her finger as he carefully wrapped the band-aid around ther tip where she'd cut herself. She wondered if he was wearing a tinted lip balm that his lips so pink and plush and soft. Would this it be too early to ask if she could kiss him?

They've been on Just one date apart of this one!

It shouldn't...

She was pulled out of her thoughts when he finally spoke: "Be careful next time, okay?" He looked at her giving her all his attention as she looked at him with a puppy face. He swore he was just a hair away from kissing that pout off her mouth. "What were you saying before?"

"Oh, I was asking if you need spoon." She repeated.

"We were going to eat with our hands?" He was confused.

"Traditionally, yes, but I can get you-"

"No, it's okay." He interrupted her politely, wanting to indulge into her world in a way, "I can try eating with my hand!"

"Okay, then go wash your hands." She chuckled at his excitement, she still got him a spoon if he changes his mind.

"How was you day, love?" He enquired as he took his seat again moving his chair back in front of her across the table.

"I don't know honestly." She shrugged, "can't explain. But this one lady just bickered with me for like an hour and half. God, I was so pissed!" She rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry that happened," he cooed, "this is very delicious by the way!"

"Oh, thank you!" YN felt flattered by his compliment. She wasn't very great at cooking, but she made decent food. "Is it too spicy for you?" She smiled at him watching him eat with his hands, she never imagined to see him like that but he warmed her heart in a cool way.

"Tiny bit," he agreed. "What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head breathing out a subtle laugh, "you just look cute and all."

"Hey, I'm trying!" He whined.

"I did not say you aren't!" She defended. Shaking his head Harry got back to eating.

"Do you work tomorrow?" He asked.

"Yeah, got another early shift." She shared, "why?"

"I, ehm, got tickets to this, ehm museum, they have an art exhibition. One of my friend's gonna have her collection displayed there." He stuttered, but proceeded with a suggestion, "thought you'd maybe wanna go with me?"

"Oh," was her reaction. YN isn't really into art but she would be willing to go with him. "You sure about that?"

"Mhmm. Why wouldn't I?"

"No, I am sorry, I didn't meant it in a wrong way." She rushed, "I mean it is going to be pretty crowded there surely. I meant, would you really want me to go with you?"

God! She could feel her heart thumping in her ears. Yes, she is rightfully anxious. The museum is surely going to crowded, and he have been sighted by his fans there even when he's alone many times. It made her anxious. The internet made her anxious even though she haven't even agreed on going with him yet.

"It's okay." He assured her, "I understand, haven't really talked about it with you yet and it's fine with me if you don't want to go. Maybe next time? But it's okay."

"Harry, I do want to go, I'm just a bit anxious." She explained, "I'm sorry if I made you upset."

"No love, it's alright with me." He reassured her, "really it is, okay? You don't have to worry about it all, there are no cameras allowed there at the exhibition. I know it is still going to be inevitable to avoid them, but I promise you that you won't have to worry about it."

"Okay," she sounded, "would you be fine with that, I mean if there are any lurking cameras around there?"

"Of course I would be," he agreed in a heartbeat, "I took you out two weeks ago, didn't I?"

"Mhmm."

"This a bit sad honestly, to have even have this conversation." He started, "but this really just comes with my choice career. I've learned it's only going to be obvious if we make it obvious, and I don't want that. Not this soon at least."

YN felt that eerie feeling in her stomach you get when you know you're in some kind of trouble. That eerie bad and anxious feeling of making someone upset or sad even unintentionally. The feeling of nothing but cold air filling in your abdominal cavity.

He smiled before he continued, dimples denting into both his cheeks, "I like you a lot, if it's not been obvious until now." He searched her face watching her bite the inside of her cheeks nervously. Being caught, she just proceeded to stuff her face with food to fight the awkwardness. "I've had a crush on you since the say I saw you. Your little stutters really caught my eyes. Obviously you know I was but I never once felt differently treated by you, and I really liked that." That's the longest YN has heard him speak without his ehm's and uhh's stutters.

"I just really want to be selfish and cherish that for as long as I can to myself." He confessed, "I also don't mind if I'm seen with you or whatever. Honestly couldn't give two fucks about what people have to say anymore."

YN chuckled at the closing statement of his little vulnerable speech, "I like you too, Harry, really. You know I've been a fan of your music, so thank you for trusting me enough to let me a part of your life."

"I should be thank you," he corrected her, "for respecting my privacy anddd making this amazing food!" He finally took another bite of his food after his speech.

"You're very welcome Harry, just ring me up if you want to eat anything else. Anytime" YN said, "my friends call me up everytime anyway." She found it was better to subtly move the conversation to something else. It was going to be way too overwhelming for her, she had felt way too many emotions today to add more of her perspective on this. She could say that any other time, maybe tomorrow even, but not in that moment.

"Yeah? That's because you make really good food, love," he agreed with her friends there. "What time do you get off tomorrow?"

"I have early shift so..." she reminded and calculated her shift hours in her head for a moment, "I should be done by afternoon."

"So we can go after lunch then, yeah?" He suggested, "it won't be as crowded then, I guess."

"Works for me." She agreed. "Did I forget something?" She looked at the table confused.

"I don't know..." Harry shrugged.

"Oh, oh, the dessert!" She exclaimed, "how can I forget that?" She was already halfway in the kitchen licking her fingers, she pulled something out of the fridge and something off the country and managed to balance two Tupperware containers and two small bowls with a clean serving spoon to the table. "I made this last night before I went to and this is just store bought."

"What's that?" Harry was pretty curious.

"This is Rasgulla - or Rasgulle for plural - and Gulabjamun which I made." She pointed each dessert out, proudly. "Finally, got it right this time! These are too difficult to make for some reason for me."

"Oh, what's it made of?"

"Same ingredients surprisingly, paneer which is cottage cheese and a tiny bit of flour, one of it has got some dry fruits in it."

"Sounds amazing!" He mused.

......................................................................

After dinner and dessert (which Harry loved so much!), Harry helped YN with the dishes even though she told him not to. Turning on the TV and her pet fish's water filter on they both sat on the sofa watching the movie he picked. Harry Potter he chose.

"I've never seen these." YN confessed as she sat down in the corner placing a water bottle on the coffee table.

"You've never watched Harry Potter before?" He looked at her as if she killed his pet hamster.

"No..." She hesitated, "why?"

"How have you never watched Harry Potter?" He looked hurt, or acting to be hurt.

"I just never found it interesting enough." She admitted, "my elder brother sister are obsessed though, and so are all of my younger siblings." Yeah, she's always been the odd one out in her family. As the middle child that fit ber very well.

"You still want to watch it?" He asked, letting go of the teasing.

"Yeah, it's fine I can sit through the first one." She shrugged.

"No we're watching something else," he handed the remote, "pick something."

"Okay," she took it and played Spiderman: Far From Home. "Are you going to be in the next Eternals?" She spoke about halfway through the movie, now sat comfy with a throw blanket, her legs draped over Harry's with his hands warming up ber knee through the thick fabric of sweats, she leaned back with her elbow perched up on a pillow, her cheek smooshed against her knuckles.

"Yeah, we start filming next year." He shared, "though I'm not allowed to share this."

"It's okay, you're secrets are safe with me." She smiled, he smiled back watching TV.

God, he is just so pretty to look at!

She could die, he was that pretty. Honestly she wouldn't hesitate to obsess over him but she's way too much of a little coward to do so. Plus she thinks she would come out as weird especially considering he knows that she's been his fan since his solo career started. Maybe when they're comfortable enough with each other? Maybe a in a few weeks? Or months if they last? Or maybe when he finally says he wants her to be his girlfriend? Just too many maybes! Urgh!

He was made first of his mold she decided, even his side profile looked gorgeous. His lashes curling up to his brow bone, the straight slant of his pointed nose which she love how it dances as he talks. For the second time this night she found herself wanting so badly to kiss him. Even if on his dimpled cheek.

Harry felt her staring at him obviously, "love, you're staring."

"What? No, I'm not!" She was snapped out of her little admiring session, lying from the tip of tongue. She felt heat rush under her skin as be back to look at the TV watching Zendaya fight off the drones.

"I don't mind if you were." Harry teased her, and even though she wasn't looking at him anymore she could feel the smirk on his face through his voice. He laughed watching a red tint take over her complextion. "You look so pretty blushing!"

"Oh stop it!" She huffed whining making him laugh even more, she scooted to the corner pulling her knees close to her chest. "You're annoying!" Catching smirking at her short glance at him.

"Am I?" He tipped his head to side after he, "is it annoying that I find you pretty or me catching you staring at me, hm?" Her lips pressed in a thin line as she tried not to smile too much.

"You're annoying, in whole." She said, trying to get out of her embarrassment.

"Too late, sweetheart, we're already do dates in." He reminded her, "with a third one planned out. Can't back off now."

Fuck that hit her like bang!

She wasn't planning of backing off anytime soon. Not until he decides to otherwise. That melted her heart into a puddle.

"I wasn't planning to." She answered. He liked how she wasn't trying to hold back her smile. Searching her face he leaned in even closer.

"Yeah?" Harry sounded quite content with her answer, he reached for her hand carefully resting on her lap. "Gonna stay for as long as you feel fit?" His other hand cradled her face slipping down, stopped on her neck.

"Mhmm." She nodded, feeling heebie-jeebie inside as he brought hand upto his mouth to place a delicate kiss on her knuckles, feeling the pad of his thumb rub softly against her jaw.

God! Her heart is going to burst in her chest cavity!

"Is it okay if we kiss?" She found herself finally speaking up instead of humming.

"Absolutely it is, my love!" His voice somehow went deeper as he looked her dead in her eyes. Watching her lean in that much closer he pulled her in with his hand slipping further on the her neck.

There it was, his mouth pressed onto her her bottom lip tucked into his two. The little touch felt so soft and intimate when it all lasted for a second. He didn't pull away, she could still feel his nose skimming against her cheek. She took her shot and pressed her mouth on his again, this one lingering longer than the first one. Even more special as it dawned on her in a beautiful way he is the first person she ever kissed!

Harry felt her small hand warm on his cheek, making him take it a bit further but he kept to himself and followed her lead. When she broke away he pulled her in a bear hug.

"God, I missed you all week!" He confessed as if it weren't the first thing he said to her today.

"I missed to too," she reciprocated, she leaned into his warmth especially when he was being so welcoming of her. Harry was extra cuddly with his hoodie on and sweats and the fluffy throw blanket they shared.

Next thing YN knew annoying loud noise of her alarm went off, still feeling warm like it was some fever dream of hers. But her alarm went off suddenly as she felt a warm hand running up and down her back.

"Hey love, your alarm just went off." Deep raspy voice spoke to her snapping her out of her sleep. It was really Harry. YN found herself basically lied on top of him with the throw over both of them, the TV switched off. "Good morning!"

"Good morning," she spoke pulling herself unwillingly away from him. She was definitely way too comfortable in the setting. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on you."

"It's alright," he assured her, "did you had a good sleep." He watched her stretch like a tired little kitten as she yawned.

"Yeah, a little too well." She admitted making him chuckle, "did you?"

"Mhmm! Of course I did." He confessed to. "You're going to work this early?"

"No, I leave by seven," she shook her head trying to shake off sleep from her eyes.

"Yeah? I'll drop you off on my home, you can go get ready."

"Mhmm thank you." She smiled. God she didn't wanted to drive today! "You can sleep in more meanwhile if you want."

YN had shut the door behind her to her bathroom. Oh god, she really did let someone stay a night over at her place!?

She couldn't believe herself there. YN's always been protective of her personal space. Especially since was kid. Growing up she had many questions to answer to, where was she going? Why aas she going? Where was she if she was late? What was she doing if she was late? Does she have guy friends? When she closed her bedroom door for more than hour what was she doing inside? Did she directly went to school and came straight back home? Did she need money? Why does she need money when she was provided everything at home? And what not!

It wasn't just her, even her elder sister had to answer all the questions. She's sure her little sister has to answer those too now.

One thing YN's sure about is that her friends are going to be go haywire when they find out. About Harry. About this. Hell she hasn't even allowed them to stay over for night since she moved there.

How and why did she fell asleep on him? Especially after they kissed!

But none the less thinking about all this she found herself all ready for the day. She'd chosen same brown pants she wore on the first date and white button down shirt with a black jumper on top. She'll have to work in this today.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" He turned around to look at her, he was answering some texts.

"I left you a new toothbrush and a towel in, in the bathroom if you wanted to, ehm, get freshen up." She stuttered.

"Mhmm thank you, love." He smiled. God how casual is he going to be about this?

She went to make herself tea and him a coffee, she made herself a quick breakfast wrap to take along whilst waiting for Harry. She couldn't believe last night happened!

She so badly wanted to tell her friends like they share their things with her. But she opted not to, whilst Alec can digest any and all secrets, Brielle finds it difficult though YN would argue she's the most respectful person she's ever met. She will have to tell them eventually or they're going to be upset, even though she isn't entitled to share of her personal life stuff but those are her friends. They've been with her since last fifteen years!

"Hey, are you ready?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, almost! Here's your coffee." She handed him a reusable thermos cup.

"Oh thank you," he smiled walking upto her to give her a warm hug, "you're still up for today?"

"Yeah," she nodded leaning into him for a moment, he placed a kiss on her head.

"I'll pick you up by 12?" He suggested earning another nod from her, "you alright love?"

"Yeah," she nodded assuring him, "yeah, I am."

"You've got the whole puppy face going on, What's wrong?" He pointed out, booping the tip of her nose with his pointer finger. He noticed she'd packed her breakfast and two small containers with the desserts they had last night.

"I'll tell you on the way?" She suggested.

"Mhmm," he nodded.

They both got into his car. He drove for a bit in silence halfway through, giving her the time she needs to speak.

"I haven't told my friends about us yet." She confessed.

"Why so, darling?" He asked, sounding a bit upset and taken back. Instantly there were questions flooding through his mind.

"One of my friends is like... I don't know how to say it in English." She chuckled to lighten up the mood her little confess got him into, "she just can't digest secrets, basically she loves to gossip. Whilst I don't mind her talking about us, even on accident to anyone I don't know if you'll be fine with that. I know you sort to talked about similar... thing with me last night. But both of my friends would go haywire if they find out from somewhere else. So I'm just thinking about how I should tell then, or if I should even tell them."

"There is no pressure love, I don't mind if she talks about us to anyone." He shrugged, "you can tell 'em if you don't mind."

"You're fine with that?" She asked, "I mean, I know her but you know she talks alot and stuff like that but she won't say a word on purpose and-"

"YN, calm down please." He interrupted her, "I don't care if anyone knows, really. We don't have to hide, it's like we're committing a huge crime. We like each other, right?" He glanced at her for an answer and mumbled a little yes! so he continued, "there's nothing to worry about."

"Okay." She squeaked, "that really put me at ease."

"And we're here," he stopped his car on the side of the road. "I'm glad about that, sweetheart."

She hummed, "please take a nap you still look very tired Harry." She pointed out, seeing bags under his eyes and sleep puffed face.

"I'll go to bed early tonight, don't worry." Harry assured her, "now would you gimme a kiss before you go?" He was already leaning over the center console closer to her waiting, without a word uttered she leaned in to press her mouth on his into a long indulging kiss just like last night, her hand rested on his cheek. Enough to hold him off until he sees her again in the afternoon. "Take care okay?"

"I will." She unbuckled her seat belt and got out, "my colleague's here." She saw her colleague opening the door to the cafe already, "nap Harry, okay?"

"Aye!" He chuckled at her little scolding. Waving she jogged her way inside.

......................................................................

"It's very pretty in here!" YN exclaimed quietly looking around the museum. Yeah, she's a huge history geek but this never peeked her interest to spend her time at a historical museum.

"But not more than you." He gave his cheeky little remark. "The exhibition is on the other side, bht we can walk around here if you want."

"Yeah, I want that." She agreed. They walked around looking at the busts made of marbles, a few paintings and national souvenirs displayed around. She shared the little facts she knows about little pieces herr and there with Harry before they decided to see his friend's art collection.

"Did you tell your friends?" Harry enquired. He held her her close with arm wrapped around her waist. He carried her bag for her just so he can have her close to him as they walked around.

"Yeah, I did. I saw both of them today." YN shared, "Brielle said she won't share this with anyone unless we want that. And Alec is going to be here, his sister has her own art collection displayed here today."

"Oh, we should check that out too!"

They walked around and met Harry's friend who was super nice. And also super talented. Their paintings displayed were very beautiful, though YN didn't understood the meaning behind each one, she's not that artistic she decided. But the pieces of art work were easy on eyes and calming in a way she has never been before, she'd buy one herself if they weren't started from the price of her flat alone. She'll stick to buying cheap affiliated ones from Amazon until she can afford a real one.

"I don't see Alec around." She shared with Harry, "oh there he is."

"Hello YN!" Alec greeted YN with a hug.

"Hiya!" YN exclaimed hugging him back. "Harry this is one of my best friend, Alec. And Alec you know Harry."

"Oh yes, Hello." Alec greeted Harry with a hug too. "I didn't know my best friend could be this sneaky about literally dating her celebrity crush."

Harry chuckled, "nice meet you, Alec."

"Oh and please come take a look at my sister's art work too." The blonde suggested and walked Harry and YN to the other side of the room. Least tk say she was baffled by Hadleigh's art display. They talked for a long time there.

Harry was sure approached by a couple of his fans whom he talked to, but they couldn't take pictures as it was allowed in the exhibition due to copyright issues from the artists present there. He was so grateful for that in the moment, subtly but he won't admit it because he loves meeting his fans but he also likes his privacy.

"Is Brielle going to come?" YN asked.

"She's stuck at work, you know her boss is arsehole." Alec rolled his eyes.

"Oh okay." YN nodded.

......................................................................

YN wanted to look around the museum for a little longer so of course Harry was going to agree. He's just going to look at her and listen to her random facts. Though it was way past the lunch time.

"Oh-uh!" She sighed.

"What's wrong?" Harry followed her gaze to find a little family looking at displays just two aisles away in the Egyptian section.

"That's my sister and her family." YN shared.

"Oh," was his initial reaction, "do you want to go talk to her?"

"I, uh, it's fine." YN shrugged.

"I don't want to assume but do you not talk to her?" He wondered.

"It's not that..." She trailed off, "it's complicated. It's not her it's my parents that I don't like to talk to, if she sees me on a date they're gonna know for sure. If she doesn't tell them her husband for sure will."

"Why would you not want them to know?"

"I- Harry please don't take it in a wrong way! I'll tell share it with you little by little, okay? I don't have the greatest relationship with my parents. I have- I can't talk about it all in one go, it's very hard for me. It's, it's difficult for me open up like you did." She shared stuttering through her talk, a glassy sheen took over her eyes. "There is a reason why I live alone."

"Hey, I'm sorry —"

"I need five minutes." She excused herself interrupting him walking towards the bathrooms, taking her bag from him.

YN honestly doesn't know how to navigate through stuff like this. All this time she's solely focused on herself and herself only. Not bothering to go out on dates and stuff until upto recently before walked into her work place for the first time. Now that she had the time she wanted to open herself to more experiences, but no one stayed more than a date or two. She went on dates with five different people four of them wanted just a one night stand and other one ghosted her after the second date.

Harry stayed. Giving her that tiny hope back. They became good friends first which was a cherry on top for her. Now all she wanted to do was not make him uncomfortable in any way, shape or form just because she doesn't trust people who are in her life much. Her parents would make her life even harder if they found out she's seeing someone, especially when she's living alone.

She didn't trusted her own sister whom she loves so much. Her sister knows who Harry is, and from the sixteen years she spent with her family and relatives she knows how these kinds of news spread faster than wild fires.

She felt so confused as to where to start unpacking all of this to him without making it feel like she was dumping it all on him at once. Sure she's not even trying a bit to hide anything from him, she just needs time.

YN couldn't help but feel she's making him upset and mad about her anxiousness. Not wanting to let her mind wonder and talk to her therapist about it (he's the only person who knew about her seeing Harry everyday since he first walked in) instead she blinked pushing her tears back.

It was just too hard for her to see her sister there after a good few years.

"You're okay!" She mumbled to herself washing her hands in the sink, "shut the fuck up! You're okay, you're okay! It's fine. Talk to him!" She was bringing herself together there, with that she headed back out to go to look for Harry.

"C'mon," is the first thing he said when he saw her and walked her out to go to his car all the while holding onto her hand in a gentle grip. "I'm really sorry, love." He started once he got in the driver's seat next to her. "I just didn't wanted to assume that you're not on good terms with your family. Whilst I want to know more about you, I know it's none of my business to intrude. So it's completely fine if you never want to talk about it."

"You clearly looked upset about it." She pointed out, "I wasn't meaning to hiding all of this I just don't want to deal with my family because I know they're going to make a huge fuss about it!"

"It did made me upset but I didn't know." He admitted, "I am really sorry about that lovie," and he carefully reached for her hand in her lap, "we don't have to tell anyone, okay? I'm not gonna question anything or get upset like I did— that was very naïve of me—, we can just go about our days without thinking about it."

"Okay." She nodded. "I'm sorry too. It wasn't you that I ran to bathroom."

"That's okay love." He assured her.

"Hmm."

"Let's go to Hyde park and have a little picnic, hm?" He suggested already pulling out of the basement car park of the museum. "Would you mind placing an online order at Subway or something?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "You want sandwiches?"

YN found a little restaurant which served a variety of sandwiches so she placed a order a couple of different ones, and a tall hot chocolate for herself — Harry said he didn't need a drink, was fine with just water — for them to take away on thier way to the impromptu picnic.

"Think Gemma left her picnic blanket in me car last time," Harry opened the boot of his car, "there it is!" He announced taking out a brown and beige gingham blanket.

They both walked further in towards the park, finding a place quiet enough. Harry layed out the blanket on the grass before they both sat down. Winter month, the sun was getting ready set at just half past four. There was awkward silence taking over between them now as they ate away their very late lunch.

"You want a bite?" YN offered.

"Yeah," he agreed taking a bjte from her sandwich. Finally something to talk about! "Mmm do you want to switch?"

"No!" She got defensive, "just one bite."

"Meanie," he squinted his eyes at her but failed ending up chuckling. He picked up her hot chocolate to take a sip.

"Hey!" She whined. "Be polite gimme a bite of your sandwich now!"

"Here," without any other word he offered her his sandwich. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"I don't do anything on Christmas... Work I guess?" She said as if questioning how she spends her holidays.

"You're working on Christmas?" He couldn't believe her, "no way you're not!"

"But it's fun!" She whined, "and I kind of need to get some over time in," smiling sheepishly she took a bite of her food.

"Why so?"

"It's embarrassing, moving—"

"Now I definitely I wanna know," he pressed, teasing her.

"Oh god no," she sighed, "the car I bought. It was like an impulsive purchase due to some family drama." He laughed explaining, "some people were talking shit about my job."

"And that is so slay!" He exclaimed, "happy for you bestie!"

"Thank you bestie!"

"No but seriously, YN I need you to take the day off for me, please?" Harry looked at her with a puppy face. "Please?"

"Okay, Christmas is a month away. I'll see what I can do." YN agreed.

"Okay." He leaned in a pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

They both talked about literally nothing to Harry's new music. They scrolled through some memes on her Instagram. Least to say Harry wasn't surprised seeing his own memes on her explore page, that just showed how insanely funny his fans are to him.

"Wait? What was that?" He saw a video on her home which she swiftly scrolled by.

"No, it's embarrassing!" She whined when he took the device from her hand and scrolled back to the video. It was her friend, Alec's account he saw, he'd posted a few throw back pictures and videos. There was a video of YN, Alec and who he assumed must be Brielle singing. The ginger boy with a guitar and behind a keyboard as they sang Gorgeous by Taylor Swift.

"Huh? And you said you can't sing?" He scoffed confusedly.

"I literally can't."

"Look there is another one!"

"Oh my god, Harry!" YN tackled him to get her phone back knowing very well he's just trying to annoy her now. And he did just that going through her own account and checking her posts for the rest of their time outside.

N O T E:

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storiesbyjes2g · 12 days

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3.103 Every day I'm hustlin'

For the next week, I hustled harder than ever. I went to every spa I knew of and taught 2-3 classes a day. I even went back to our gym in Willow Creek to see about teaching, but they had a full-time instructor. We were in no way hurting financially, but I hadn't worked since we got engaged. And honestly? My work activities slowed significantly when I moved in with Sophia. I wanted to spend time with her and be home when she arrived, but she got off work so early it just threw off my whole day. The money tree was in progress and my SimTube video was still doing great, so I didn't have to work so hard. But I felt compelled to, especially after our last conversation about the money tree and my family history. I had to ensure my family would be set up for success by doing any and everything I could while I had few obligations. I didn't enjoy getting home late and seeing my wife only a few hours a day, but I was willing to sacrifice for a short while.

One morning, I woke up and caught Sophia doing push-ups outside. When we chatted on Social Bunny back in the day, she always talked about how much she loved fitness, but I never saw evidence of that when I moved in. Her job sucked the life out of her, leaving her too physically and emotionally drained to do the things she loved. But she was free now and started prioritizing her health and wellness. Her delicious curves would start slowly disappearing, and I mourned my loss but took solace in knowing she'd be happier and healthier.

An idea fell on me, so I went outside to greet her.

"Good morning, my sweet."

I grabbed her hand and kissed it so over-the-top dramatic like they did in the old movies.

"You're awfully romantic this morning!"

That was a new one. I never saw myself as a romantic.

"I'm going to teach at the Desert Bloom Resort today. Would you like to come?"

"Really? You want me there?"

I chuckled.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know... Some sims get nervous about friends and loved ones seeing them in action."

"Oh. Well, that's definitely not me, seeing as I used my friends and family to get started."

"Okay then! Let me text Rashidah. She was gonna come by this afternoon, but I'll tell her to come later."

We ate, got dressed, and headed to the spa. The class was almost full, which made me happy, but I never had so many sims unwilling to try. Like, I knew everyone came with varying levels of fitness, and I never did complicated routines because of that. Alternate poses existed for that very reason, but half of my class just stood there. Why pay and not participate? It must be nice to have money to waste.

Sophia had taken a mat in the back, so I couldn't see her very well. But every time I caught a glimpse of her, she struggled. By the end of class, she looked miserable.

"Everything hurts," she said. "I pulled muscles I didn't even know I had!"

I didn't enjoy seeing her miserable, but her talking about muscles she didn't know she had made me chuckle a little. I knew just the thing to cheer her up.

"Come with me."

I led her upstairs to the massage rooms and found a masseuse who wasn't busy.

"Hi," I said.

"Oh, hey. You're the yoga guy, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Luca. This is my wife, Sophia. Would you mind if I borrowed your table? I'll pay if-"

"Have at it, bro. I get paid the hour. But if you don't mind, I'm gonna stay in the room. Can't let them see me slacking, ya know?"

"Sophia? Do you mind if she stays?"

"Not at all! This is so exciting and romantical!"

She changed into a towel and hopped on the table, and I attempted to melt away her pain.

I wondered why she thought it was romantic, though. Was it because of her history? Or was it mine? I had an unused skill, and my wife had a need. Was being a good husband romantic? Regardless, I was glad she enjoyed the massage. Too bad weren't alone, though. I could have massaged everything and made sure she had a very happy ending. But I behaved, and Sophia left feeling much better. Maybe I should get a table for the new house....

She wanted to check out the rest of the facility as she'd never been before, so I went downstairs to the gym. The punching bag made me remember me, Maia, and Dub's debate about the best exercise, and I told him I gained all my muscle from yoga, never lifting weights or punching a bag. I went a few rounds, and it was honestly kind of fun. I let out steam I didn't know I had and felt my muscles engaging and contracting so much I knew if I kept it up I'd be walking around looking like Llama Man. No disrespect to him, but the superhero look was not for me. The weights and punching bag would have to remain an occasional activity.

Rashidah came by later, just like Sophia said. I didn't want to be rude and ignore her, but I also didn't want to be all up in their business, so I stayed and chatted with them for a little while before excusing myself. It occurred to me I hadn't checked on the money tree in a while, so I hurried outside to see if it was okay.

Good thing I caught it when I did because it was full of weeds, and the leaves had withered. The soil was still pretty damp from my initial watering, so I guess the weeds were choking it out. I never aspired to be a gardener. Apart from Mama making me water and weed her soy plants, I didn't know a thing about it or care. But my family's future now required me to get on board. Luckily, I only had one tree to tend, not an entire garden. I could manage that for a lifetime of financial freedom.

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #rashidah watson

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depressedbagpipe · 1 year

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Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter one

Words: 3310 Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk (guys, please, don't drink alcohol), some anxiety thrown in there, a couple of bad words, google-translated italian A/N: it's lights out and away we go! welcome to my crazy world in which i got into f1 right when the season was ending and now i can't wait to see every race. also, cause I'm still kinda new and I'm not Italian, any mistakes that i make in regards of *everything*, feel free to correct me, and be nice about it ;) A/N (II): italics are thoughts and phone calls and the email, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location ;)

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Chapter one

London, November 18th, 2022

The weight of my bag was the only thing preventing me from sprinting to my desk. Several manuscripts I had yet to finish, together with my laptop, and all my personal items, hung from my shoulder as I made my way into Mr. Williamson’s wing. I cringed at the sound of my heels over the polished floors, making various heads turn my way as I sprinted by as fast as I could.

Eventually, I got to my desk, conveniently placed just outside Mr. Williamson’s office. The slight clutter was hastily thrown away with a flick of my wrist, making space for my bag, and turning my computer on at sprint time. A quick glance at the office before me told me Mr. Williamson hadn’t arrived yet. Thankfully.

Checking my wristwatch, I sighed in relief at the time.

9:32 am. New record.

Now relaxed, I took a seat in my uncomfortable chair and started typing away on the keyboard, going over all the emails and meetings I had to schedule for the day.

Half an hour later, Mr. Williamson showed up.

‘Good morning,’ he said in his usual hoarse morning voice.

‘Good morning, Mr. Williamson, would you like your usual coffee order?’ I asked in rehearsed practice.

‘Yes, please,’ he responded, struggling to open his office's glass door.

‘You gotta push,’ I noted while I grabbed my coat and my wallet, trying not to laugh.

‘Right,’ he grumbled, finally opening the door and leaving it open.

He stumbled a bit over the expensive rug, looking around before taking a seat on his bigger and far more luxurious desk. His briefcase fell over when he placed it on it, dangling over the edge, and only once he was fully seated, I left my post.

That’s how every morning went for the past year. I would arrive in time –usually–, be ready at my desk until Mr. Williamson came in late –usually–, make sure he got to his seat in one piece, and go down to the ground floor where the company’s private Starbucks had its own space.

One Americano, and one iced vanilla latte to go, please. Once again, those words were deeply burned in my memory.

‘How is he doing this morning?’ Jeremy, the morning barista, asked as he took the order.

I shrugged, swiping the company card over the payment terminal. ‘Still pissed off drunk.’

‘So, the usual?’ he chuckled, motioning me to the end of the bar while Amanda, his workmate, made the drinks.

We both leaned over the counter separating us, talking in hushed voices, so the other customers wouldn’t listen to our conversation.

‘Honestly, I don’t know how much he can go on like this. I’m starting to feel bad for the guy.’

‘Girl, he cheated on his wife, and she rightfully left him. If he deals with his own mistakes by getting wasted every night, it’s up to him,’ Jeremy sent me a pointed look.

I bit my lip. ‘I know, but you should see him. It stopped being funny eight months ago. Do you know how many meetings I had to reschedule because he wouldn’t even pick up his phone? And I don’t mean his personal phone, I mean the company phone in his office. All he has to do is press a single button and talk,’ I winced at the memory.

‘Here you go, have a nice day!’ Amanda gave me the drinks, and I smiled gratefully at her.

‘Well, as soon as he keeps ordering Americanos, I’m not complaining. I’ve doubled my hours here solely based on his caffeine ingest. And you know how much I need the money, so he better keep those orders coming,’ Jeremy winked.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. ‘If he ends up in rehab, I’ll blame you.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine by me. He’s an asshole.’

I laughed with a small shake of my head. ‘Bye, Jeremy! See you in a couple of hours!’

Getting back into the elevator, I made a mental note of everything that had to be done that morning. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings, until either Mr. Williamson got fed up and left, or I dropped in exhaustion for a quick nap.

The walk back to my desk felt longer than usual, the hefty workload of the week finally catching up to me as it normally did every Friday. I left my own coffee on my desk and quickly gave my boss his Americano, to which he merely responded with a grunt. He had his sunglasses on and was massaging his temples as if his life depended on it.

Making a face at his state, I bent down and took off my heels, knowing the constant clicking would be painful in his hungover head, and went back to my desk, making sure the door to his office was closed. Grabbing the phone, I was quick to cancel the first meeting he had in ten minutes.

With a sigh, I grabbed one of the manuscripts and resumed my reading, reading every page twice and making sure no typo was missed.

It was both a blessing and a curse, working at Ink’n’Paper. We were one of the world’s leading publishing houses on all sorts of literature, and consequently, the huge workload that we bore was overwhelming. Ink’n’Paper had been my first and only real job in the publishing industry, starting as an inexperienced intern and working my way up until I became the assistant of a household name in Historical Non-Fiction. It hadn’t exactly been my first option, non-fiction, but the pay was good, and I was desperate to prove myself. Next thing I knew, it had been three years since I’d started, and I was pretty much the only one making sure the whole department didn’t burn down due to my boss’ sudden neglect.

It was a few hours later, still sometime before the end of my workday, that I –or rather, Mr. Williamson– received the email. I had been managing all his accounts ever since the very first day he stumbled into the office completely drunk, Vodka bottle in hand, and screamed how much of a cunt everybody was on that floor, and then passed out on his rug, not before puking all over himself. After the embarrassment and degrading task of cleaning, not only him, but his rug too, I had taken over his entire life, managing even his dental care appointments for him, knowing he wouldn’t even be showing up to half of them.

I was surprised at the sender, for the name was oddly familiar. Maurizio Arrivabene.

Frowning, I quietly opened the message.

‘Buonasera, Stephen. I know it’s been a while, but as you’ll understand, these past few years have been a rollercoaster here. I was actually thinking about your past offer, and I know I’m a year too late, but I would love to look into it more. I’ll be in London next week after the season’s over, maybe you’d like to have some coffee (or tea, whichever you prefer), and talk about the book? I know here at Ferrari we need some push, whatever results we get this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Take care, Stephen. Sincerely, Maurizio.’

I widened my eyes at the email. Maurizio Arrivabene. Ferrari’s old team principal. I quickly gathered my planner and a pen and pushed open Mr. Williamson’s office door. Thankfully for me, he now seemed much better.

‘Sorry, Mr. Williamson?’ I took a few tentative steps toward him.

‘Yes?’ he lowered his spectacles, halting his typing on his keyboard.

‘You’ve received an email from one Maurizio Arrivabene,’ I pronounced his name in a heavy accent, the same way my dad would whenever he talked about his homeland. ‘Something about a book offer, maybe?’

His face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Maurizio!’ he stood up from his seat. ‘I haven’t spoken to him in a while! How is he?’ he asked me. He still reeked of cheap alcohol.

‘I don’t know, sir, but he wants to meet with you next week.’

He clapped. ‘Fantastic, schedule a meeting with him.’

I coughed. ‘Well, the thing is, he sent an email to you, directly. I believe he’d like something more casual,’ I said, yet I opened my planner to check his schedule.

‘Well, then, I shall phone him immediately!’ he grabbed the phone on his desk, and rapidly frowned. ‘What’s his number again?’

I pursed my lips. ‘He didn’t write any, sir. I think you shall write to him directly.’

‘Of course! Let me just…’ he sat back down and typed something on his computer. ‘What was my email again?’

I groaned soundlessly, quietly making my way to him and fastly typing his correct credentials. Standing closer to him, I noticed the many wrinkles in his suit and the many hair strands that fell on the wrong side of his side part. Shaking my head, I pointed at the email.

‘There it is.’

‘Okay, when am I free for tea?’ he responded after a few seconds, his eyes reading over the words.

‘Well, you did cancel three meetings with the entire Editorial Department so… I rescheduled them for next week, but you should be free Friday afternoon after work,’ I checked all the time slots available, scribbling down the possible dates.

‘Why couldn’t we meet on a weekend? We don’t work on weekends,’ he said.

I paused. ‘You don’t work on weekends. I do. And I’m guessing this is a possible job offer, therefore counting it as part of the workweek at least allows you a free meal covered as company’s expenses,’ I recited off my head. Too many times I have said that.

Mr. Williamson widened his eyes. ‘That’s brilliant! You’re right, let’s schedule for next Thursday.’

‘Friday.’

‘Friday. Wow, who taught you that?’

‘You did, sir.’

‘Well, I’m a genius, then.’

‘If only you were sober enough to realize that,’ I muttered as I finished writing on my planner. Louder, I replied. ‘Remember to save the day and respond to the man. Don’t keep him waiting.’

I walked back to the door. Mr. Williamson nodded his head. ‘Will do!’

With another sigh, I sat back on my chair, cracking my fingers before typing in the response to Maurizio Arrivabene on behalf of Mr. Williamson, and making sure to set reminders in his calendar for every day of the week until his tea date.

The pay is good, at least.

—

‘You should have seen him. I mean, he’s like a toddler!’ I complained from my spot on the couch.

‘I don’t know how you keep working like that, you’re basically a babysitter at this point,’ my mother said from the other side of the phone.

I hummed in agreement, looking up at my feet. They dangled from the other end of the couch, as I took up the entire space by laying down. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I told Rosanna from Human Resources to notify me whenever there was a new vacancy, but it’s been months.’

‘Honey, I can’t tell you what to do, but do you think head editor is the right job for you?’ she asked.

I stopped. ‘I think so. I mean, I’m good at it.’

‘Yes, but do you like it?’

I paused again.

That question had been roaming in my mind for months. At first, the job had been nice. Reading manuscripts for a living, correcting the mistakes, meeting with the authors, and getting to know them first-hand… Again, maybe historical non-fiction wasn’t what I originally envisioned my future like, but the pay was good enough to get me my own apartment and to live independently. At the rate the economy was going, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

But then Mr. Williamson had suddenly neglected his own job when his life started spiraling down, and I had been the unfortunate soul to try and collect the pieces of his broken person. I was suddenly managing, not only my life, but his, and needless to say, he wasn’t an easy person to handle. Despite the many conversations to get him to sober up, every morning was a complete wild card, not knowing whether he would even show up, and if he did, would he be conscious enough to work.

On the bright side, thanks to his many absences, I had learned how to manage the editorial department pretty much completely on my own. I knew the names of every single worker, even the janitors and the night guards working late shifts. I had written, rewritten, corrected, presented, contacted, hired, fired, and despite knowing I was perfect for said role, my heart still longed for something different. The reason why I even had studied Creative Writing all along.

‘But only writing doesn’t pay the bills’, Mr. Williamson had said one morning, a month into my newly appointed role as his assistant. And ever since then, I had almost forgotten about my own dream of becoming a novelist.

‘What do you think I should do, then?’ I asked her.

‘Honey, you’re old enough to make your own decisions,’ she laughed.

‘Mom, I need your advice! I know I’m old enough but right now I’m at a crossroads!’ I complained, lifting my arm and covering my eyes with it.

‘You know what I think about writing for a living,’ she mused.

I groaned. ‘Yeah, I know it’s not your cup of tea, but I promise, I’m good. Great, even.’

‘I wouldn’t know, you never let me read anything.’

‘Well, yeah, it’s embarrassing.’

‘You need to get over that eventually, honey.’

‘It’s easier said than done,’ I sighed. ‘Besides, everything I have written so far was just reports and boring commercial synopsis for historical books, unless you really wanna read that…’

‘Honey, whatever you choose to do, just make sure it makes you happy. And that at least you’re getting money out of it.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I think I need to sleep this one over.’

‘It’s probably for the best. Let me know, whatever you do,’ my mother said. ‘I gotta go now, book club starts in fifteen minutes and I still gotta walk by Linda’s house to return her copy. Will you be fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Wait, your dad wants to talk.’

‘Great.’

‘Hey, chicken pie!’ I chuckled at my dad’s voice.

‘Hi, dad,’ I smiled.

His tone was excited. ‘You’re seeing the practice?’

I nodded before answering, my eyes glancing at the TV, where the first day of race weekend was airing from the Yas Marina circuit. ‘Of course, I am. Not paying much attention, though.’

‘Well, nothing interesting so far. You wanna FaceTime tomorrow for quali?’

‘Yes, please,’ I groaned in delight. ‘I wish I could be there to watch it with you, though.’

I could hear his smile through the phone. ‘It’s alright, chicken pie, I know you’re busy lately. Everything alright with your boss?’

I could hear my mom yelling at him in the background of the call.

I bit my lip. ‘Ask mom, she got all the details. Shouldn’t you be leaving for book club too?’

It was his turn to groan. ‘Don’t remind me.’

I laughed. ‘What was it?’

‘To Kill a Mockingbird. No bird in it.’

I audibly laughed at him. ‘Please, don’t say that out loud, you’ll be banished from the club.’

‘Oh, what a pity would that be,’ he said in his most mischievous voice possible. ‘Wish me luck, Principessa.’

‘Ciao, Papà!’ I laughed, finally ending the call in a fit of giggles.

Shaking my head, I leaned my head back on the pillow and continued watching the practice, remembering the puzzling email addressed to Mr. Williamson.

Multiple explanations littered my head as to how on earth Mr. Williamson knew someone as Maurizio Arrivabene, both from such different spheres, but then again, Stephen Williamson had always been a renowned author and an even bigger editor. It was possible that both men had coincided at some point in history, but I tried not to dwell much on it. I had a week until I found out what the fuzz was about.

Groaning again once the free practice was over, I finally stood up from my couch and walked towards the small kitchen, opening the fridge in hopes to find something available to eat. Some leftovers caught my eye, and with a shrug, I took them out, threw them in the microwave, and sat down back on the couch once the food was warm enough to eat.

Browsing through HBO for something to see, I settled on my annual rewatch of Parks and Recreation, anything to get my mind off the horrible week I just had.

My phone pinging broke me out of my daze. Wiping my hand clean on my dirty pajamas, I quickly read over my friend Angela’s message.

‘You shouldn’t check Alec’s Instagram story, but I also think you should.’

With a frown I opened the app, seeing the familiar purple-ish circle around my ex-boyfriend’s face. The video was enough to bring a few tears to my eyes. His arm was around some other girl, and her crimson-painted lips left stains all over his cheek. His smile was wide, and he looked quite happy, wherever he was.

I rapidly closed the app off, throwing my phone to the other end of the couch, now in desperate need of a glass of wine just to forget what I had just seen.

Breaking up with Alec had been hard, but seeing him off with someone else was even harder. Not only two months ago we were talking about living together, and now it felt like I was seeing a stranger through my screen. My job had been slowly taking over every aspect of my personal life too, and while I couldn’t blame Alec for feeling neglected all of a sudden, especially after three years together, it still hurt. I still missed him every night, morning, and any other time in between. He had been my best friend for so long, and one of my main pillars ever since I stumbled out of college, completely lost, and in frantic need of guidance in the adult world. We were both still kids that had become adults together, and I was having a harder time than I wanted to admit to trying to forget about him.

Taking a big breath, I closed my eyes, touching the soft couch in an attempt to ground myself.

Big breath in, big breath out.

After a few minutes, I felt myself calm enough, resuming my dinner and my binge-watching, now more than ever desperate for sleep after the intense day. Technically I had every weekend off, but I still had many manuscripts and emails to send the next day, thankfully from the comfort of my own home.

It was only in bed that I allowed myself to relax, turning off my phone, and grabbing my crochet set. It was a habit I had picked up lately, something so far out of my field of expertise, yet so relaxing once I got the hang of things. Working on my silly bucket hat every night before sleep was pretty much the highlight of my existence. And I was so invested in it, that only after I was finally done with it I realized I had been sitting for three hours in the same position, my eyelids dropping and my back hurting. Getting the needles out of the way, I finally laid in bed, and it only took a few minutes to fall soundlessly asleep.

—

A week later I found myself in the same position, crocheting a summer top in my bed, late in the evening after yet another exhausting week, when I received Mr. Williamson’s message.

‘Book a flight to Italy. We’re going to Maranello.’

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