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chuluoyi · 3 months

Text

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

2K notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Note

Hi, hope you're alright. I came up with a story idea: the reader is married to Gasly's/Daniel's close friend but their marriage is hanging by a thread. The driver invites her to a few races so she can change the environment, they spend some time together and unexpectedly become lovers. And maybe later her husband is trying to fix their marriage but she and the driver can't stop thinking about each other

His Best Man || DR3

A/N: I took some creative liberties with the plot but I think it does this request justice 💕 ps: never condone cheating, it's horrible and this is purely fictional

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, cheating, smut WC: 7.6k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction

Dinner with James was a quiet affair, though it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Why would your anniversary be any different when his indifference was the only constant at this point?

You watched as he smiled at his phone, something you hadn’t been able to elicit from him in months, before he locked the device and placed it facedown on the table. The sigh that wanted to exhale from your flared nostrils barely remained silent as you focused on shifting the food around your plate, your appetite gone like the connection to your husband.

“Daniel sent us some passes to the race in Melbourne next month. I thought we could go, make a little holiday out of it?”

There was no excitement in your tone, it was more a question borne out of politeness because he would have seen the paddock passes sitting on the kitchen side if he ever looked away from his phone. The blasted device vibrated again and his fork clattered on his plate in his rush to read the incoming message.

“Well?” you asked as his thumbs flew across his screen.

“Can’t. Work project is going to keep me busy until the deadline,” he answered without looking up. “Take one of your friends, have a girls trip.”

Friends…those people you never saw anymore because James hadn’t liked them, though he never outright said it, those friends who had warned you that you were marrying a narcissist.

“It’s our anniversary,” you reminded him. “You know, falls on the same day each year.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” he nodded, clearly not listening. “Sounds good.”

You propped your elbow onto the glass tabletop and dropped your chin onto your palm as a familiar burn of resentment simmered in your soul. “The mailman gave me a pearl necklace.”

“That’s nice. Put it on my credit card.” He reached into his back pocket and tossed his wallet across the table, narrowly missing the glass of rosé.

You opened it and saw the polaroid from your wedding day no longer sat in the clear card slot but was stuffed behind his drivers licence. You shouldn’t have felt hurt after months of being ignored but the pain still surprised you, almost as much as the condom that you found with his cash. He hadn’t bought a box of condoms in at least three years, not since the wedding when you started trying for a baby - something that was probably best that it didn't happen.

“He must eat a lot of pineapples because it tasted delicious,” you murmured as you took his cash and the platinum credit card too.

James nodded and pushed his empty plate away. “Yeah, tasted good, thanks. Need to finish this project.” He rose from the table with his phone and started to make his way down the hall to his office. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You had a trip to plan.

You weren’t going to have a girls weekend but you were going to Melbourne. He may have been James’ friend first, but no one had the ability to turn a bad day (or year) around like Daniel could.

When you arrived in Perth you hadn’t expected Danny to be the one personally waiting at the airport. It was impossible to miss him with the amount of people that surrounded him, asking for pictures and autographs before he spotted you stepping out of customs.

You didn’t need to read lips to see him apologising to everyone as he made his way towards you, holding up a large welcome sign for ‘Roo’. You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you after one drunken night that ended with you tangled in a hammock, your head poking out of the material like a joey in a kangaroo pouch. You were only grateful he hadn’t nicknamed you Joey since the name had stuck over the years.

Your greeting turned to a peal of laughter as he dropped the sign and swept you into a hug that lifted your feet off the ground to spin you around.

“I’ve missed you, you beaut!” Danny’s smile was contagious and even when your feet were securely back on the ground he still kept his arms around you. “A shame James can’t come, but we can totally make his jealous as fuck for ditching us. One week, you, me, road trip to Melbourne.”

Day One - Perth to Kalgoorlie “I hope you know where we are going.”

Daniel laughed and just winked from the driver's seat of his Ford Ranger. It had been three hours of driving on the highway and you had not passed one town in the dusty landscape.

“It’s not far, just down the road a little more,” Danny said for the third time. “We still have half a tank of gas and a crate of Vitamin B, we’ll be fine if we need to camp.”

You quirked an eyebrow up as you looked in the backseat and saw the green box of Victoria Bitter beer strapped with a seatbelt.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to camp anywhere,” you scoffed, tucking your knee up as the song changed to another country song from his endless playlist. “Spiders, snakes, dingoes, and your snoring. I think not.”

Daniel laughed and indicated to pull off the road despite there not being another soul within what felt like hundreds of kilometres.

“I’m sorry I said you snore, please don’t leave me here.”

His laugh only intensified as he turned the engine off and turned to face you. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Roo.”

“Then why have you stopped?” You tested the window but it had powered off with the engine. “It’s a freaking sauna in here.”

“Because you haven’t been yourself all day and there’s no cell reception out here so there’s nothing to distract you.” He took the useless device from your hand and tossed it in the glove compartment. “What’s going on with you and James?”

“Nothing,” you muttered as his brown eyes narrowed. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on with him. We hardly speak anymore and he sleeps in his office when he’s not out of town on another ‘business trip’. It’s just…nothing.”

Daniel’s brows pinched together in confusion as he sucked a lungful of air through his teeth. “But…what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed as you threw your hands in the air, just as clueless. “What do you want me to say? That he’s having an affair, or that one day he just stopped caring, or both?”

You turned away as it wasn’t a bead of sweat that rolled down your cheek when you sighed in defeat. Unable to withstand the heat without the air conditioner, you tugged the door handle and checked the dirt for any unwanted animals before jumping down from the running boards.

Daniel was already getting out his side and circling the bullbars before you could wipe the tears away but the sob you had tried to suppress clawed its way out when he pulled you against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly as he rubbed your back and let your tears soak into his shirt. “He can be a bit of a cunt, but I never thought he could do that to you.”

“He did and it’s done,” you admitted with a raspy voice that was still strained from the emotion choking each word. “I moved my stuff out last week, not that he even noticed. I thought I could have a break to get away from it all and deal with a divorce when I get back.”

“That fucking idiot,” Daniel said as he pulled his shirt up to wipe your tears away. “He just lost the best thing in the world and he doesn’t even know it.”

Day Two - Kalgoorlie to Caiguna It was another long day of driving but after the broken sleep spent tossing and turning you weren’t much of a companion. You had eventually drifted off to sleep to the country music that Daniel loved so much and dreamt of crawling through fields of watermelons but the paddock soon turned to mud and you sank under the suffocating weight with it filling your lungs.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Danny soothed as you startled awake, his quick reflexes throwing his arm out to catch you from hitting the window. You could still feel the filthy fluid on your skin and shivered as you changed the song over and took a shuddering breath. “Bad dream?”

You rolled your shoulders and twisted your stiff neck, groaning at the crick that had come from using the seatbelt as a pillow. “Just weird.”

His eyes darted away from the endless road ahead and saw you trying to massage your neck before he brushed your hand aside. There certainly were perks to his strength training because his fingers were a godsend as they erased the knots that had formed.

“Hmmm, thank you,” you sighed deeply and his lips tipped up at the sound.

“Anytime. Hope you got the rest you needed, there’s a stop ahead and these guys know how to throw down.”

You narrowed your eyes at the horizon that was blurred by heatwaves and tried to see what lay beyond but gave up after a few seconds. “Throw down what?”

“Huh?”

“What are they throwing down?”

“Throw down,” he said slowly as if it would somehow make you understand but you were still confused. “Party, drink, dance. Throw down.”

“Oh, throw down, why didn’t you just say that?”

He laughed at your sarcasm and squeezed your knee. “You could definitely do with a drink or two and loosen up. Then I can get my old Roo back.”

“As long as I’m not expected to sleep in a hammock again.”

The motel was a little rough and run down but it had four walls and the bathroom was clean enough to last one night. Daniel had barely given you enough time to get changed into fresh clothes before he was knocking on your door ready to escort you next door to the bar. Coincidentally, the bar was also the restaurant, service station and grocery store all rolled into one.

You and Danny were by far the youngest people in the place but it didn’t stop the warm welcome from everyone. If any of the patrons knew who he was they hid it well because they treated him just like any other stranger passing through.

“Where ya from?”

“Where ya headed?”

“Watch out for ol’ Deloris, she’ll try take a bite out of ya.”

The questions came in quick succession and you looked around the room trying to figure out which of the ladies was Deloris only to find the name on a plaque beneath a huge crocodile head suspended from the rafters.

“Fuck me,” you gasped as you took a step back, bumping into Danny as he laughed along with the bartender.

“Gets ‘em every time,” he chuckled as he placed two large bottles of beer onto the well worn bartop. “Looks like ya sheila could use something a little stronger.”

Daniel’s large hands landed on your shoulders and started to massage the tense muscles. “There’s no crocs ‘round here, isn’t enough water,” he whispered to calm your nerves. “Deloris was probably a pet.”

“Who in their right mind would keep that as a pet?”

“Probably someone not in their right mind.” His warm laugh tickled your ear before he turned you back to the bartender to grab your drink. “Cheers.”

Daniel found a small table in the surprisingly busy restaurant space and it appeared as if most of the locals were keeping the economy running in the place. It was strange to think that the faded walls decorated with old photographs of the glory days gone by felt more homely than the one you had built with James.

You could easily see yourself placing a coin on the pool table to save your place in the queue or ordering the fresh market fish off the menu without questioning how it was fresh so far from the sea. You could see yourself walking in to see the same faces at the end of a long week and the barman would listen to your complaints as he poured your usual without needing to be asked.

You took a generous gulp of beer that Daniel swore was ‘the good stuff’ and hummed at the hoppy flavour as it quenched the thirst that hadn’t stopped since you stepped foot in the country. It was no wonder why they liked their beers so much, they needed whatever they could to cool their bodies down.

“I like this place,” you said with a smile that Danny returned with pride.

“Thought you might, and tomorrow’ll be even better.”

“Where are we going tomorrow?”

Daniel shook his head and occupied his lips with the bottle so he could keep you in the dark a little longer. You didn’t mind this type of surprise, knowing he wanted to make you smile and was planning everything could to make that happen on the road trip.

The doldrum tune that was playing from the corner of the bar was interrupted as a coin was slotted into the jukebox and Josh Turner’s Your Man came on the machine. Couples around the bar and restaurant left their belongings and made their way to the dance floor. Where you came from no one would do that, and if they did their belongings wouldn’t be there when they returned.

Beneath the table you could feel Daniel’s foot tapping in time to the beat and his fingers drummed on the long neck he lifted to his lips. He caught the longing in your eyes as you watched a grey haired man holding his wife, slowly swaying together like you had imagined you would with James in 40 years.

“Come on, Roo,” he invited as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. His palm was cold and damp from the beer bottle but it was refreshing on your skin with the heat that still lingered with the setting sun. Leading you to the edge of the dance floor he pulled you close and curled an arm around your waist as he started to sing along. “I've been thinking 'bout this all day long, never felt a feeling quite this strong, I can't believe how much it turns me on, just to be your man. I know you know the words, don’t be shy.”

It was impossible to feel embarrassed with him, even if you butchered the song he would still smile like he was listening to his favourite artist live. So, you placed your hand in his and the other rested on his shoulder as you started to sway and sing along.

“There's no hurry, don't you worry, we can take our time. Come a little closer, let's go over, what I had in mind.”

Daniel let go of you and your head fell back with a laugh as he spun you away and pulled you back. You could only giggle as you returned out of step and ended with your back to his chest instead of face to face but he adapted quickly and held your waist instead.

“Baby lock the door and turn the lights down low,” his voice was deep and rich in your ear, intimate and full of promise that hit you unexpectedly. “And put some music on that's soft and slow. Baby we ain't got no place to go, I hope you understand.”

You were glad you weren’t facing him as his words affected you in a way you couldn’t remember feeling for over a year. The very air seemed to thicken in your lungs as you felt every inch of his body fitting against yours. You could feel the veins on his hands as you laced your fingers with his and guided them down to your hips.

This was the first time the lines had blurred throughout the years of friendship and you allowed yourself to feel wanted, if only for a song.

Day Three - Caiguna to Yalata The pounding in your head turned out to be banging on your door and you somehow found the strength to answer it. Bright sunlight flooded in through the crack and you groaned as you covered your eyes.

“Good morning sunshine,” Daniel greeted brightly as he stepped inside. “It’s 7am on another stunning day here in Straya.”

You playfully shoved Danny and he rolled with it to splay across your bed, the blankets still tucked in from collapsing atop them last night.

“7am is too early,” you complained as you climbed into the small space he left on the twin sized bed, curling onto your side and throwing your arm over your face to block out the light. “Let me sleep.”

“You can sleep in the car.” His fingers danced teasingly over your ribs and you jutted your elbow back into his hard abs before he could properly tickle you. “Ouch, you’re not very nice in the morning.”

“This isn’t morning, this is still night,” you grumbled as his arm draped over your waist instead.

“The sun is up.”

“Tell that to the people of Norway. It can be sunny at midnight there.”

You could feel him silently laughing at you as it shook the bed. “But we aren’t in Norway.”

“Shh,” you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. “Let me go back to sleep.”

“Fine,” he conceded, making some adjustments to the pillow before shoving his arm under your head, “but just because I’m comfortable now.”

The hangover was gone by the time you woke naturally and you felt refreshed as you stretched lazily. Rolling over in Daniel’s arms you found his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly with soft snores. You raised your head a little to see the alarm clock that was probably considered vintage in the 80’s and saw it was well past check out time. Luckily it didn't appear that the No Vacancy sign was ever used, so there was no rush to leave.

The small movement was enough to wake him and your stomach clenched at the smile that brightened your day more than the blistering sun outside when his honey brown eyes opened.

“I can’t believe this,” you tutted as you let him pull you closer against his chest. “I was ready to go at 7 and you just went back to sleep…so lazy.”

“How rude of me,” he chuckled. “I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Woah,” you whispered breathlessly as the truck bounced to a stop on the hard sand of the tidal line. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it just,” Daniel grinned as he opened his door and looked across at you. “Coming in?”

You bit your lip as your eyes feasted on the picturesque scene. Big barrel waves crashing out in the bay and white sand welcoming bare feet on the shore, it was a sight pretty enough to make angels cry. Hopping out, you rounded the four wheel drive ute and sat on the metal bar running across the front, distracted by the breathtaking view. “What about sharks?”

Daniel’s door shut and you turned to the sound in time to see him pulling his singlet over his head and tossing it through the backseat window before unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans off too. It was impossible not to stare at the hard planes of his chest or the definition of his abs, and then the thick thighs that were barely covered by his boxers.

“The chances of a shark attack are less than…” His words trailed off as he looked up and caught you blatantly staring, his teeth sparkling as a big smile grew on his face. “The view is spectacular, am I right or am I right?”

“You or the beach?”

“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” he said as he started to flex his arms, “but if you think I’m spectacular then I would accept that.”

You closed your eyes from the harsh sunlight and tipped your head back to feel the rays on your cheeks as you laughed. “You’ve never had to worry about your ego, have you?”

He sent you a playful pout as he walked towards you, his thongs flicking up golden sand behind him with each step. “It would take a hit if you didn’t come swim with me.”

You hadn’t realised quite how many types of heat there was until that moment. There was the heat of the bonnet from hours of driving beneath you, the heat of the sun in the sky above and the heat of his hands that landed on your knees. It was the heat of his hands that seeped into your blood and spread throughout your body, increasing to boiling point as they slowly ran up your thighs.

Your knees unconsciously parted for him and he stepped into the space so you were eye to eye and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “There’s nets out past the reef, you’ll be safe with me.”

You took a sharp intake of air as his fingers caught the hem of your shirt and his knuckles grazed your skin. “Well?” he asked quietly. “Trust me?”

You swallowed deeply as you nodded and he rewarded you with another of those smiles you had come to love before he lifted your shirt up and left it on the hood of the truck so he could grab you around the waist and haul you over his shoulder.

“Daniel!” you yelped as the world was suddenly upside down and he kicked his thongs off before jogging towards the water. “Don’t you dare dunk me.”

You expected the next sudden shift when the water reached his knees but as quick as he tossed you up off his shoulder he caught you again with a booming laugh. His arms were bound around your thighs and your hands planted on his shoulders as you looked down at his amused face.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he promised as he eased his grip, your body sliding down his until you were once more eye to eye. “I just want to make you smile.”

Day Four - Yalata to Port Lincoln As much as you had found yourself enjoying the historical rich motels in the outback, you were just as happy to find the accommodation in Port Lincoln was a five star resort on the waterfront. The sun was just starting to set when you arrived at the hotel and checked into the two bedroom suite with a gorgeous view of the harbour.

“I never knew driving could be so exhausting,” you said as you dropped into the swing chair on the large balcony.

“Don’t worry, tomorrow’s a rest day so you can recover from all that driving you didn’t even do,” Daniel pointed out with a smirk, taking the spot beside you and taking over the leg exercise of swinging it back and forth. “We can do whatever you want, just can’t miss the boat to Adelaide tomorrow night.”

It was nice spending so much time alone with Daniel on the road, comfortable conversations rolling like the tires on the highway, but a change of pace would be welcomed. “What is there to do?”

“Hmm,” he frowned and stood up. “Let me go see.”

Daniel disappeared out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a stack of brochures that he had taken from the tourist stands in reception and you met him on the couch inside where the pleasant offshore wind couldn’t whip them away. Together you flicked through them, separating them into three piles of yes, no and maybe.

“Sure you don’t wanna cage dive?” he teased as you threw that particular brochure across the room. “You could get up close and personal with a Great White. Once in a lifetime opportunity right there.”

You snorted and shook your head. “Once in a lifetime because it would kill me. Not happening.”

“Here, that’s a yes for you.”

You took the advert for a farm park where you could hand feed the animals and added it to the yes pile. “Maybe next year we can go to your farm…unless James gets you in the divorce.” Your lips turned down at the idea and you realised you had hardly thought of your husband, but now that you had he had disturbed your peace even though he was thousands of miles away.

Daniel reached over the coffee table to the stationary set, grabbing a hotel engraved pen before pulling his shoe off. “It’s just like Toy Story,” he said as he waved the pen in your face. “Put your name on me first.”

You managed a small laugh as you took the pen and clicked the nib out. “Should tattoo it so it doesn’t wash off.”

Daniel squirmed on the couch as the pen tickled his foot and you grabbed his ankle so he couldn’t move too much but he started to giggle uncontrollably as the nib ran over his instep. “How long does it take to write Roo?”

You laughed and kept going before he wretched his foot free and crossed his leg over his knee to see your full first and last name on it - maiden name, not married.

“For legal purposes,” you said as you clicked the pen nib away and tossed it on the table.

“Fair enough.” He grinned at the writing everytime he looked at his crossed leg and draped his arm over the back of the cushion as you returned to the seat. “You can come by the farm anytime, don’t have to wait for next year.”

“Except for shearing season,” you smirked as you remembered that mistake where you were roped into helping the jackaroos round the sheep up and shave them. “I have no interest in losing all feeling in my arms again.”

“Earned that beer though,” he said with a chuckle as he started to massage your neck. “I was so proud, you weren’t afraid to get stuck in and help. I kinda thought you were a bit of a princess ‘til then.”

Your nose crinkled at the endearment James used to call you. “Well I’m glad I got rid of that image. But, out of curiosity, what do you think I am now?”

The smile could only be described as devilish as his hand spread across your nape and guided you closer to him. His eyes held you captivated and his lips parted with his answer but it was silenced by the sound of ringtone breaking the tension and like a puppet whose strings were cut he fell back into his seat. The emotion in his eyes was erased with a blink and you reached blindly for your phone, answering the call without needing to see who it was from.

“Hey, isn’t it like midnight?” you asked as you lifted the device to your ear but there was no answer at the other end. “Hello? James?”

“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby. God, Laura, you’re so perfect.” The phone slipped from your grasp as you heard the muted but unmistakable sound of James’ voice.

Daniel frowned as he picked the phone up from your lap and lifted it to his ear, shock registering before it transformed into anger and he hung up the phone without breaking the screen with the force of it. He discarded the phone and pulled you into his lap in the same instance but you didn’t hear what he said as you buried your face in his neck and grappled onto him for dear life.

Day Five - Port Lincoln to Adelaide You didn’t feel like doing anything other than staying in bed and sleeping the day away but Daniel wouldn’t let you waste another minute of your time because of James. In a way you could understand the logic and as a big ‘fuck you’ to him you were going to get your shit together and go and have fun.

Daniel worked even harder to get a smile or a laugh out of you and kept his camera on hand to capture the moments he succeeded. The animal farm did make you feel a little better and holding a joey as you bottle fed it was finally enough to break through the invasive cloud that had hung over you.

“Roo and Roo Two,” Danny commented as he moved around taking a million shots of you.

“Need a hand?” a passing couple offered after watching Daniel try and extend his arm enough to get in the shot too.

“That’d be a dream,” Daniel nodded and he handed his camera over before sitting down beside you and curling his arm around your waist. The joey was almost asleep from drinking all of the milk and Daniel grinned at you as he stroked its neck. “Looks like you when you sleep.”

You grinned back, forgetting about the camera. “Cute, right?”

“Yup, that’s, uh, exactly what I was thinking.” He cleared his throat and scratched his neck awkwardly before laughing when your elbow connected with his ribs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re a cutie-tootie when you sleep…it’s another story when you’re awake.”

His laugh was loud enough to wake the joey when you nudged him again with an offended look. “What? You’re beautiful when you’re awake.”

“That’s totally what you meant,” you said sarcastically before rolling your eyes. “Just look at the camera and smile like a normal person.”

He tipped his head to yours and smiled brightly for the camera, but he couldn’t resist whispering, “Bold of you to assume I know how to be normal.”

Day Six - Adelaide to Portland It took a moment to recollect the events from the night before and it wasn’t because of the many wine tastings you had gone to around the Port Lincoln area. Perhaps that had a little bit to do with it, but mostly it was because you had fallen asleep in the truck to the gentle rocking motion of the ferry but now you were tucked into an unfamiliar bed.

“Danny?” you called out as you tossed the covers back and found you were still in yesterday's clothes. You could hear some sounds outside of the room but Daniel hadn't answered your call so you picked up the coat rack from the corner and quickly opened the door.

“Jesus Christ.” Daniel jumped back as you waved the long pole his way. “What the fuck?”

You sagged in the doorway and dropped the makeshift weapon to clutch your chest. “You gave me a fright.”

“I gave you a fright?” he asked incredulously. “You gave me a fucking heart attack. What were you going to do with this?” He swiped the coat rack off the floor and couldn’t stop himself from laughing at it. “Please don’t give me a concussion before the race.”

“But any other time is good?” you quipped as your lips tipped up now that your heart rate was returning to normal. “How did I get to bed?”

He flexed his arms with a cocky grin. “I tried to wake you up but you were dead to the world. And now that sleeping beauty is awake, how about we go out for breakfast? There’s meant to be a huge market that sells a bit of everything that we could check out after.”

You held a finger up as you looked down at your clothes and heard your stomach rumble, answering the question of whether to shower or not first. “Just give me one minute to change.”

Daniel had obviously been awake for a while being an early bird so he was ready and waiting at the door when you reappeared, his hand held out and waiting for yours. The lines between friendship and more were getting blurrier each day but it no longer felt wrong as you laced your fingers with his and stepped outside.

“Are you limping?” you asked with a frown as he kept his weight on one side the entire walk to the market.

“No, just got pins and needles in my foot.”

An hour later he was still favouring his right foot so you steered him back towards the hotel so he didn’t make it worse before you got to Melbourne. “You should probably see a doctor.”

Daniel dropped onto the couch and stole the remote to choose a movie, patting the space beside him so he could kiss your temple after joining him. “You worry too much, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re quiet,” Daniel commented as he turned off the tv. “What’s got you thinking so loud?”

You chewed your bottom lip as he called you out. He was too observant, or you were too easy to read. “It’s our last night together.”

“You’re still going to stay with me for the weekend, right?” He shifted in his seat to face you and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand as he waited for an answer.

You nodded and he relaxed a little only to freeze as you spoke, “But you’ll be busy, we don’t have time to hang out.”

“I’ll always make time for you,” he promised as he pulled you into his lap. “This week with you has been…spectacular.”

“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” you reminded him, much to his amusement.

His smile softened as his fingers trailed along your jaw and down your neck to trace your collarbone. “Which is why it’s reserved for very, very good things.”

You were almost certain he could hear your heart racing like thunderous hoof beats in a quiet desert. The blood was pumping around your body carrying the oxygen you needed to replace but couldn’t seem to draw the air into your lungs as he leaned forward.

“You were his best man,” you whispered with the last of your breath as you felt the heat of his lips so close to yours.

“But I’ve always been the best man for you.”

The first kiss was softer than the wind, tentative and testing as you learned how your body responded to the caress before hunger yearned for something deeper. A deep moan rumbled from Daniel’s chest as your tongue rolled across his lips that parted for you and his arms encircled you to hold you tight, as if he were clinging to the spell so it couldn’t be broken.

“Please, Danny,” you sighed longingly as his hands slipped under the summer dress you wore and his thumbs teased you with painfully slow circles on your thighs. “You have never been a patient man, don’t start now.”

His quiet laugh heated the skin of your neck that he kissed with such tenderness you wanted to cry. It had been so long since you had been touched in such a way that you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please,” you begged as you rolled your hips over his cock that was straining against his shorts. You moaned as the hard length brushed over your panties and a reciprocal sound came from Daniel before he stood up abruptly.

“Fuck, I wanted to take my time with you,” he murmured against your lips as he blindly walked to the closest bedroom.

“Later,” you promised. “Right now I need you to get me out of this goddamn dress and fuck me.”

Day Seven - Portland to Melbourne “Oh, fuck off,” you growled as your phone rang on the bedside drawers. You rolled back into Daniel’s embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist as he saw at the voicemail notification before it started to ring again.

“He’s just going to keep calling,” Daniel said with a sigh that turned to a yawn after the late night spent getting to know each other's bodies intimately. “You’ll have to talk to him at some point.”

“I know, I just want to savour this moment before the drama starts. I can’t remember the last time I woke up like this, happy and content. I’m not ready for that to end.”

“What makes you think I’ll let this end?” he teased as he rolled you onto your back and trailed wet kisses down your neck. “I might just write my name on your foot too and call you mine.”

The warmth of the blankets disappeared as Daniel made his way down your body, kissing the entire length of you before settling between your legs as the phone rang again.

“Answer it,” Daniel ordered as his fingertips delicately traced the stretch marks across your hips, committing every inch of your body to his memory. “Or he won’t go away.”

You tried to find any hint of resentment in his face as you reached for the phone but there was only an air of smugness as he made himself comfortable, resting his head on your thigh.

“I think we have been robbed,” James said without even a hello as you answered the call on speakerphone. “Everything in the guest room is gone.”

A huff of amusement bubbled at the image of him standing in the empty room, his face crumpled in confusion as he scratched his head. “It’s at my apartment.”

“What apartment? What are you on about?”

“The apartment I rented before I moved out two weeks ago. The one I will be living in when I get back.” Daniel’s fingers traced the waistband of your panties and your breath hitched as they slipped beneath the lace.

“Bullshit,” he laughed but there was a hint of uncertainty in the sound. “Just come home and talk about this before you make any rash decisions. I know I have been busy with work lately-"

“More like busy with Laura.” The air that hissed between your teeth could have been mistaken for anger but it was entirely from the devilish look in Daniel’s eyes as he bit the soft skin along your inner thigh.

“Laura’s my assistant.”

The laugh turned to a gasp as Daniel pushed the lace aside and ran his tongue through your folds, his eyes rolling up to watch your reaction, the phone falling from your hand as you reached for his hair. You tugged the strands as his tongue circled your clit and you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping as you arched your back at the growing pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby,” you begged shamelessly and he chuckled as he felt your walls flutter around the fingers he curled into your cunt. “God, Daniel, you’re so perfect.”

A round of expletives filled the air as James heard a real orgasm take over your body but they fell silent as he realised why the words seemed so familiar. You weren’t just accusing him of fucking Laura, you knew. And you were using his best friend to show him.

“Some friend you are, sack of shit,” James growled as you whimpered with the aftershocks of the orgasm.

“Some husband you were,” Daniel snickered as he tore your panties off and climbed up your body to kiss you, sharing the taste of your pleasure on his tongue before he picked up the phone. “You lost the best thing you had, mate. I won’t make the same mistake you did.”

Daniel ended the call stared down at you in wonder as a slow smile started to spread across his face. “I don’t think he will be calling back.”

It may have been the high of the orgasm, or it could have been the knowledge that after a year of enduring the decaying marriage, but you were free - either way, you were giddy with joy as you wrapped your legs around Daniel’s hips and pulled him closer.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you giggled as you hooked your fingers into his boxers and pushed them over his hips.

“He had to know who you belong to now, he had his chance.” His voice was pure decadence in your ear as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds before stretching you wide as he thrust forward and stilled. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size and brushed a gentle kiss across your lips before captivating you with his golden brown eyes. “Still want to know what I think you are?”

Your fingers ran softly down his back, feeling each bump on his spine right down to the twin dimples at the base. “Tell me,” you whispered as your hands grasped the firm muscles of his ass, your nails digging in to spur him into moving.

“Mine.”

Melbourne Grand Prix - Race Day The screams of Daniel’s home crowd were intoxicating and you couldn’t help cupping your hands around your mouth and joining in as he parked front and centre of the pitlane having won his home race. Climbing out of the car, stood atop the halo and threw his fists in the air before tearing his helmet off and holding it up too, tapping his finger on the large number 3.

You couldn’t help but notice how he still favoured his right foot after he jumped off the car and rushed towards his team, grappling them into strong hugs that probably crushed the air out of their lungs - not that they cared as they ran on adrenaline after the race.

“Wow, Daniel, what a race! You were absolutely flying!” the interviewer praised after he took his microphone and joined her in front of the Sky Sports camera. “Looking at some of those high speed corners, it looked like you were fighting to keep the race line.”

“I couldn’t brake hard if I tried,” he laughed and combed his sweaty hair back through his fingers. “Got a fresh tattoo and it’s still a little tender.”

“On your foot?” Naomi asked as she pointed to his Red Bull boot.

“Yeah, glad it wasn’t on my throttle one or I don’t think I’d be up here,” he joked.

“I’m certain I am asking on behalf of everyone when I say, can we see it?” A cheer from the crowd confirmed her statement and your fingers gripped the metal barrier as goosebumps broke over your skin.

“No way,” you mumbled under your breath as you shook your head to get rid of the ridiculous thought you had.

“Sure, I’ll need this off for my shoey anyway,” he said as he pulled the boot off along with his sock. Turning around, he bent his knee so the sole of his foot could be seen and looked over his shoulder, grinning as he found you at the barrier with his team.

“Aww, look at that, it’s adorable,” Naomi gushed as she saw the basic outline of a kangaroo on the sole of his foot. “What a way to pay homage to your nation!”

You bit your lip from smiling too hard when he started to laugh as she completely misunderstood what the picture meant. “Of course!”

He excused himself quickly and hopped towards you, not wanting to get the days old tattoo dirty on the ground.

“You’re actually insane,” you gasped as you slapped his chest playfully, still in disbelief that he had the word Roo tattooed on his foot beneath the picture.

He leaned in closer so he could talk without fear of being overheard and you inhaled the purely masculine scent of him enveloping you as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “It was your idea, and if you didn’t sleep so much you would have been awake to come and get it done with me.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as his hot hands came to rest on top of yours. “I must admit, I’m a little disappointed that it isn’t my full name.”

“Do you know how ticklish that was? I would have wet myself trying to get your whole name.”

You smirked at him, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening with his growing smile. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Does anyone have a marker pen?” Daniel asked loudly and about half a dozen were thrust his way in an instant.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you took a step back but the crowd was so tightly packed there was nowhere to go.

“Foot,” he said as he tapped the barrier, “up. It’s not a tattoo…yet.”

“You’re insane,” you laughed as you shook your head but instead he dropped to his knees and caught your ankle under the barrier.

“And you’re mine, I just need to…stop wriggling,” he complained as he pulled your shoe off and bit the cap off the marker before inking your sole. Twisting your foot about you saw his driver number covering the skin and bit your lip at the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he flipped the pen in his hand. “There, that’s better.”

“Is it?” you joked as you slipped your shoe back on. “I would have said spectacular.”

You were always surprised that his smile could somehow brighten, even when it seemed like it couldn’t possibly grow any more. But his smile grew as stepped closer and his hand reached for the back of your neck, pulling you to meet him as much as the barrier allowed.

“Spectacular?” he echoed before crushing his lips to yours until you were breathless and forgot where you were. “Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Daniel's Road Trip Playlist: Cruise - Florida Georgia Line Watermelon Crawl - Tracy Byrd Your Man - Josh Turner You Make It Easy - Jason Aldean Right Now the Best - Zach Bryan Over For You - Morgan Evans Live Like You Were Dying - Tim McGraw Die A Happy Man - Thomas Rhett Butterflies - Kacey Musgraves

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#daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 rpf #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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egcdeath · 1 year

Text

the l word

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: the five times you realized that you loved joel, and the first time one of you says it.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: canon divergent, no apocalypse, 5+1 fic, hurt/comfort, a certain someone gets punched, brief mention of postpartum depression & abandonment, really brief mention of physical abuse in 3, fluff, domestic fluff, angst with a happy ending, found family

author’s note: happy very early valentine’s day! this is part three of the soccer parents au, you can read spectator sport (p1) and clean sheet (p2) here!

this fic would not be possible if it were not for the help of @freakinfairykind, who sent me the idea for scene 3 and listened to my thought vomit whenever i hit a roadblock! you can thank them for the brilliance that is what occurs in that scene :)! enjoy!

part four / series masterlist

Zero

After Nathan, you were sure that you would never fall in love again. Love was supposed to be beautiful and soft—a random bouquet of flowers, having a whole conversation with just your eyes, sweet messages sent to you when you expected it least and needed it most, and foot massages after a long day. For you, love had been nothing of the sort—settling for mediocrity, spitting out venomous words during arguments, and biting back tears on forgotten anniversaries.

Love wasn’t kind or patient, or rainbows and flowers. Love was a storm cloud that followed you around when you were around him, pouring sadness and anger on you and striking you with lightning bolts of resentment.

Maybe some people just simply weren’t meant for love. Maybe you were one of them.

One

After years of trying to hold together a failing marriage and hide the myriad of painful feelings you were going through for the sake of your daughter, bottling up your feelings had become your preferred coping mechanism to everyday stressors.

For the most part, it worked for you. Sure, some days were harder than others, and the smallest confrontation or blip in the day would send you spiraling; but more often than not, you were able to compartmentalize whatever was bothering you and save it for a rainy day.

That was part of what worked so well about the relationship you had with Joel during the soccer season—you had the opportunity to unscrew the lid of the shaken bottle of your feelings just a little bit, taking some of the edge off by yelling about completely inconsequential things. But now, you don't have that outlet. And today was one of those days that you desperately needed it.

Nathan had come by to pick up Chloe just a bit ago, and it was very obvious that she hadn’t exactly wanted to spend her weekend with him. Some of her friends were going to the mall and having a sleepover, and because Nathan wasn’t particularly fond of their parents, he’d very openly told her no. She begged and pleaded to stay with you (mainly so she could go hang out with her friends), which of course broke your heart a little bit, but also led to a pretty dramatic outburst from your daughter to Nathan when he’d picked her up.

“You’re raising a spoiled little brat,” he hissed at you, pointing an accusatory finger once Chloe was in the car.

“At least I’m raising her. You only show up when it’s convenient for you,” you shot back. If Nathan wanted to stoop low, you could fall to his level. “Put your finger down. She’s watching us.”

“A little argument won’t hurt her,” he scoffed. “See? You’re proving my point: you spoil her too much.”

“Because years of watching her parents bicker wasn’t traumatic enough? Get in the fucking car, Nathan.”

He huffed, looking back at the car, then over at you. “Fine. But before I go, I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking poorly about me in front of her. Clearly she’s listening to you and acting out because of it.”

“Have you considered that you’re just a shit father and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?” you were already making your way back inside, feeling the avalanche of emotions beginning to stir inside of you, and a little frightened of what might come out next.

“You’re still such a bitch. Every day I praise every deity that’s out there that I left your sorry ass.”

You were viciously fighting the urge to get the last word in, knowing that whatever would come out next wouldn’t be good, and you certainly didn’t want Chloe seeing you like that. You left him with a sarcastic thumbs up, then slammed your front door, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm yourself down.

You crumbled down in front of the door, still maintaining slow and deep breaths. It was no big deal. Nathan just says stuff like that to stir the pot. You just needed to find something to take your mind off of everything. Your mind went to the scarf you’d been working on crocheting, something you could mindlessly do for a little while while you cooled off.

The scarf was going well. You were calmly crocheting the evening away when you checked your phone to find a few apologetic messages from your coworkers. Feeling confused, you went on to check your email, only to find that the promotion you’d spent the last few months of your life slaving away for had been given to someone else—someone who had worked half as hard as you, and even took credit for a few of your projects.

Your hands shook as you set down your phone and attempted to pick back up the crochet hook. You were fine, right? Sometimes these things just happen. Sometimes you sacrifice hours of your free time, hours of time you’ll never get back with your child, or significant other, hours you’ll never get back of sleep, hours of-

You cut your mind off, tossing aside the scarf and taking a deep breath. You were gonna be okay. This just meant you could take your foot off the gas going forward, since your work, effort, and time clearly was not being valued. Maybe you would just sit at your desk and play games, then slap your name on projects and presentations like Naomi. Maybe you’d just-

Your phone began to vibrate on your bed and your immediate reaction was to silence it, but upon checking the contact name, you became slightly more inclined to answer.

“Hey! I almost thought you weren’t gonna pick up,” the man on the other end chuckled.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, although you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle anything else today. With how your day was going, Joel was probably calling you to break up.

“Better than okay. We finished up early, and Sarah’s already at her friend’s. You in the mood for some company?”

No, not particularly. In fact, if Joel came over, you’d probably end up going off on him over something you don’t really mean, successfully putting an end to the best thing you’ve had in a while.

“Uh,” your voice cracked, and a rogue tear slipped down your face. You didn’t even know that you were on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry,” you uttered, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Sorry for what? You don’t have to feel bad for not wanting me over,” he said genuinely, not picking up on your emotional state over the phone.

“No, I do want you over,” you whimpered. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“What? I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going home now, but I can also come to your place if you want me to.”

“Please,” you grit out.

“You okay?” he asked, finally catching on to the fact that something was very off with you.

“I don’t know,” you confessed.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No.”

“You sure you want me to come over?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, desperately trying to fend off your tears.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Bye,” you hung up, burrowing yourself under layers of blankets and curling up onto your side. Maybe this tidal wave of emotions would pass by the time Joel got to your place. You closed your eyes as you took deep, shaky breaths, wiping away stray tears every now and then as they fell. You could pull yourself together.

You kept telling yourself this as you dragged yourself out of bed to answer the door, but the moment you saw Joel with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, you completely lost it. He immediately tossed the items down and pulled you into a tight embrace, not exactly knowing what was wrong, but instinctually wanting to comfort you regardless.

You didn’t even really know what it was either. Sure, you were pissed that you’d lost the promotion, and even more upset that Nathan had called your daughter a name while insulting your parenting skills, but it was far more than that. It was every little thing from the past two months that had upset you in some capacity that you had decided to push as far down as possible.

You sobbed until your throat was raw and your eyes grew sore from crying so much. The whole time Joel wordlessly held you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and swaying you back and forth just the slightest bit. You almost felt like your tears would never stop, and the more you willed yourself to pull it together, the harder it was to do so.

Finally, you pulled away, head hanging with humiliation by the emotions abruptly pouring out of you. You truly felt like a live wire. You should’ve just told Joel not to come over.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you, and rubbing a thumb over your cheek. “Or is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“A bath is good,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. You almost felt like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. The shame of being a grown woman who couldn’t even control her emotions was overwhelming, but Joel didn’t seem to mind much at all. He simply led you up to your bathroom and quietly filled the tub for you, checking it every now and then to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Once the tub was filled up, he helped you undress, then held your hand as you stepped into the tub.

“Would you like me to stay?” Joel asked as you settled into the tub.

“Not really,” you admitted.

“Okay. Just yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

Somehow, the bath was everything you needed. It was just warm enough to relax your rather tense muscles, and just quiet enough to allow you to actually process your thoughts. You sat and soaked in the bath for a while, just inhaling the scent of lavender, and trying your best to let go of the feelings that you’d been holding onto for so long.

Eventually, you felt ready to talk about things, and called out Joel’s name, who after a moment, showed up in your bathroom and sat down on a towel next to the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for your pruny hand.

“Better,” you answered as you laced your fingers with his.

“Well, I’m here when you feel ready to talk about it. And if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

“Okay,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, the apology being more of a force of habit.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Joel assured, “we all feel our feelings sometimes,” he pushed away a bit of hair that had fallen into your face.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, I guess,” you continued. It had been a while since you’d shown any negative emotions in front of anyone, let alone a significant other. In fact, the last time you’d been sad in front of a significant other, you’d been laughed at and mocked. You’d been conditioned to see your own vulnerability as weakness, as a character flaw you needed to apologize for.

“Like what? Naked?” he teased, trying to at least make you smile when you’d clearly been feeling so down. “You know I don’t mind that at all. Seriously, though. There’s nothing wrong with being upset, and there’s nothing wrong with being upset in front of the people you care about.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel like you weren’t a burden for having a rough day. Joel gently brushed away your tears with his thumb, and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling all sorts of feelings, particularly one feeling you couldn’t quite describe that had been lying dormant for years of your life.

You eventually got out of the tub once the water had become too cold and you had become

somewhat of a human prune, and you found yourself curled up in bed with Joel, wearing a flannel that he’d left behind the last time he was over.

“Feeling any better?” he asked once again, gently rubbing your back as a trashy reality TV show played quietly in the background.

“Yeah,” you mumbled as you looked up at the ceiling, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“Months?” Joel asked, scooting closer to you. “What’s been happening?”

“Too much to get into,” you sighed. “I guess it just all came out now.”

Joel turned down the volume of the TV, and turned his body so that he could face you properly. “If you want to talk, we have the time. I may or may not have drank a coffee on my way over here, so I’ll be completely alert for the next few hours.”

He gently grabbed your hand and squeezed it, a little reminder that he was here for you.

“Today’s just been… bad. When Nathan picked Chloe up, she was upset so he called her a spoiled brat and said that it was my fault that she was one. Obviously I do a lot for her, and I know that I’m a good mom, but sometimes the way he talks about her scares me a little. I don’t want her to have self-esteem issues because her dad likes to name-call. I mean, she’s probably gonna have enough issues from our shitty relationship and messy divorce. That really upset me, but that definitely wasn’t the last straw or anything.”

Joel silently sat and listened, holding your hand and listening attentively.

“I lost the promotion, Joel. You know, the one I’ve been working absurd hours for? But it’s not just that, it’s just… there are months of emotions I haven’t had a chance to process. I guess it just all came out now after that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Nathan is an asshole. He shouldn’t be saying that kind of thing about his child just to make you feel bad. And your boss is stupid for not giving you that position when you’ve clearly earned it. Everything you’ve felt today is valid, but so is everything else that you’ve been holding in for the past… however long. It’s okay to feel your feelings in the moment instead of waiting for them to boil over.”

“I guess, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve had to be strong for so long. I don’t know if I know how to not wait for my emotions to boil over.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so strong anymore. You’re not alone,” he assured you. “If you ever need me to watch Chloe because you need to go out to the middle of nowhere and scream, or just need someone to talk your feelings out with, I am more than happy to do so. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, setting your head on Joel’s chest.

You were getting that weird, dormant feeling in you once again. There was an odd warmth in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, that felt strange and familiar, but most of all, exciting. You had no idea what was going on, or what that feeling was, but you did know that you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

And honestly, it didn’t seem like it would.

Two

Walking into Joel’s home to the sound of soft guitar chords made you feel a bit like you had woken up in a dream, or died and gone to heaven. It wasn’t often that you’d heard him play guitar. Sing? Sure! He loved to sing along to a song he liked on the radio, or do karaoke with you and the kids. But playing guitar was something that he seemed to like to keep to himself.

Joel had picked Chloe up from school, as you had an important work event that you’d anticipated going quite late, and as you’d predicted, it was nearly midnight by the time you got to Joel’s place. It was rare for you to see those two alone, without yours or Sarah’s presence, but you’d assumed the latter had gone to bed due to how late it was and the fact that they had school in the morning.

So hearing Joel play for your daughter felt… weird. But a good weird. Like he trusted her enough to be doing something that he often kept under wraps, even for you.

“I love this song!” you heard your daughter exclaim from the living room. You rounded a corner, not quite ready to appear yet, but curious enough to eavesdrop on the scene.

Joel chuckled at her reaction, “should we sing it together?”

“Maybe, I’m not very good, though.”

“I doubt that,” Joel said, continuing to play the introduction to the song on a loop.

“I… fine, I’ll sing.”

The two of them began to sing along to the song, and you could’ve sworn that your heart did an actual flip as you listened. There was something very sweet about the whole scene, of Joel playing a song your daughter loved, of him assuring her that she was good enough, and singing something together.

You should’ve felt bad for listening in on the scene, for invading on a moment that was clearly meant to be private, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to feel that way when your heart was so filled with… something that you couldn’t quite place.

The song came to a soft conclusion, and you figured there was no better time to finally step out from behind the wall than then.

“You guys sounded so good!” you stated as you entered the room.

“Oh hi,” Joel greeted a little awkwardly, looking down at his guitar as if he’d been caught red handed.

“Mom!” Chloe exclaimed, coming over to you and hugging you. “I missed you.”

“We were just killing time while we waited for you to get home. How was work?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, sitting down across from Joel as Chloe curled up next to you. “It was work.”

“Mom, did you know that Joel sings and plays guitar? He’s really good!”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” you acted surprised for your child, but looked mischievously at your partner. It wasn’t often that you had the chance to get Joel to play you something, and you refused to let the opportunity slip away from you. “Can you play me something?”

“He can!” Chloe accepted the offer before Joel could begin to protest. God, was this child your mini-you. “Go ahead, Joel.”

He looked to you as if he needed some sort of excuse to not do it, or encouragement to play (more likely than not, he was looking for an out), but you simply shrugged, far too enthused at the idea of him playing guitar for you.

Just as the man sighed and began to put his fingers to the string, Sarah came down the stairs and plopped herself right next to you.

“You guys are loud,” she stated, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry for waking you up,” you apologized. “You were just about to miss your dad’s concert!”

“Oh good,” Sarah giggled, getting all comfortable next to you as she pulled a blanket over her lap.

“I feel like this is a premeditated attack,” Joel held onto his guitar.

“It’s definitely not. We just want you to share your gift with the world!”

“Alright, fine. Only because I like you guys so much.”

The three of you cheered from the couch as Joel began to play again, the soft acoustic notes of a love song you’d heard a few times before. As Joel played and sang, he looked straight at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the lyrics were coming straight from his heart to you.

That warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you’d become more and more familiar with over the course of your relationship began to reappear as you sat there, the moment a snapshot of the perfect domestic bliss that had become your home life. As you sat with your two favorite children in the world, and your favorite man, you realized that you’d never felt more content in your life.

Three

When you agreed to come to a bar with Joel, you hadn’t expected it to be a quaint little hole-in-the-wall with great live music.

The atmosphere was lively, the drinks were dangerously sweet, and best of all, it was cute watching Joel in his element. Part of you wondered if he ever saw himself up on the stage, playing for a little audience. Although, he was so bashful and shy playing in front of you and the girls that you wondered if he would like it at all.

You finished off your first drink rather quickly, but you were feeling up for another, and prepared to head back to the bar. “Do you want another drink?” you asked Joel over the loud music.

“I’m alright. Thank you, though,” he kissed your cheek, then looked back up at the stage, directing all of his focus there once more.

You made your way back to the bar, where you ordered another fruity drink for yourself and patiently waited for it to be made, humming along to the cover being sung on stage.

Being able to find out more about what Joel liked to spend his time doing was (unsurprisingly) quite nice. While he was vulnerable with his emotions, he was often a little more closed off when it came to sharing his hobbies and interests. You wondered how many of these live shows and open mics he was familiar with, how many local artists he was friends with. Would he ever feel comfortable enough around you to share those things with you? Well, you certainly hoped so.

You looked around with a small smile on your face at the thought of learning more about your partner’s interests. Had he ever been the one up on stage? Maybe before Sarah was born and he was launched straight into the time consuming world of fatherhood. Although, he surely would’ve shared that with you by now.

You were drawn out of thought when eyes landed on a head of hair that looked a little too familiar for your liking.

No.

There was no way.

This bar was definitely not his scene. In fact, if you’d suggested this bar, he would’ve laughed in your face and called you a hipster, before dragging you out to some stuffy restaurant where he’d complain about the portion size of both his meal and the bill.

Your mind was just playing a mean trick on you. You’d had a somewhat stressful week, and sometimes drinking made you the slightest bit paranoid. Besides, it was just someone’s hair. Literally anyone could have that hair color, or hair cut, and although the world was small, it wasn’t that small.

Just as you began to fall headfirst into your nerves, the bartender handed you your drink, and you walked back to Joel, head still in the clouds.

You couldn’t shake that off feeling, even as Joel danced around with you and stole a sip of your drink, both actions bringing a smile to your face, but not quite quelling the growing discomfort in your stomach.

You just needed to go clear your mind and freshen up. At least, that’s what you told yourself before telling Joel to keep your drink safe and power walking to the bathroom.

You stood at the sink, splashing your face with water as cold as the faucets would go. Nathan was not here. You needed to just relax, and enjoy the fun date that Joel had planned. You couldn’t keep letting this man ruin your experiences, even when he wasn’t present.

“You okay, hun?” a voice asked you while your head was bowed over the sink. When you looked up, your eyes nearly popped out of your head, as if you were some ridiculous cartoon character.

Well. Your brain must’ve really been fucking with you today. Or the Universe just really hated you.

Claire, Nathan’s new girlfriend, was asking you if you were alright in the bathroom of a bar that your new boyfriend had suggested.

You were completely unsure of whether she knew who you were or not, although she seemed tipsy enough not to care.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled awkwardly at her. “But, uh, my mascara’s a little smudged. Any chance you have a makeup wipe?”

“Yeah!” she said, digging into her purse to check for the item.

You’d never met Claire before, but as far as first impressions went, this one wasn’t too bad. She offered you the wipe, then stood next to you as you dabbed at your under eye.

“You meet anyone fun tonight?” she asked, beginning to touch up her own makeup.

“No, I’m actually here with my partner. He really likes the music,” you said casually, dabbing at the same spot so you could at least attempt to maintain your composure in an otherwise dramatically ironic and tense situation.

“Oh no. Was he the one making you cry?”

“Cry? No! I was sweating. We were dancing,” suddenly, a slightly perverse question crossed your mind. “Does your partner make you cry a lot?”

“How do you even know I have one?” she giggled, sounding less accusatory and more confused.

“I don’t I just-“

“No, not really,” she shrugged as she reapplied her lip liner. “He mostly just buys me shit and spoils me. What would I have to cry about? He’s a really good guy.”

Oh, you remembered that phase. Well, phases. The time after he’d slapped you during an argument immediately came to mind. Nathan could probably teach a seminar on love bombing, then making you feel guilty for having any negative feelings because of all the money he’d spent on you.

“That’s good,” you nodded, tossing the used wipe in the trash and making your way to the door. “Thanks for checking in on me and helping me. Have a good night.”

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” she asked as your hand hit the door.

“No,” you replied promptly, maybe slamming the door behind you a little too hard.

This was a lot to process, and a lot to take in. Despite having a fun time with Joel, you really just wanted to go home. Finding your way back out to him, you silently accepted back your drink and stood besides him stiffly.

“You okay?” he asked, gently grabbing your arm.

“Fine, just… just.. I have an upset stomach,” you explained. You were never a good liar, the concern in Joel’s eyes told you that you hadn’t suddenly become one.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, rubbing your forearm gently. “Let’s go home, okay?”

You certainly didn’t protest as he began to lead you out of the bar, and you let out a sigh of relief at being able to leave before running into anyone else you knew.

Although, life was never that simple, was it?

As you approached the door, a familiar voice called out your name, sending a chill up your spine. Joel’s head whipped around from where it was coming from, and scowled when he saw who the voice belonged to. Ignoring him, the two of you continued your departure, a newfound urgency in both of your steps.

Once you were outside, you felt yourself puff out a sigh of relief. You’d managed to get out of the bar with only a brief conversation with Claire, and no direct interaction with Nathan. Now, if you could only get home, curl up with Joel on the couch, and tell him the absurd story of how you’d bumped into your ex’s new girlfriend in the bathroom.

But the universe clearly wasn’t letting you off the hook just yet.

“Hey!” Nathan called as he stepped out of the bar, Claire trailing just a few paces behind him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Can’t even say hi to the father of your child.”

You were almost alarmed by the speed in which Joel marched over to your ex and reprimanded him. Not even wasting a moment, Joel shoved him back—a warning of sorts, with your knowledge that he was certainly holding himself back.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he barked. It was like no tone you’d ever heard him use before, not when he was upset with anyone, and not even when he was yelling at a referee for a bad call.

“And who the fuck are you?” your ex shot back.

“Does it really matter?” Joel pressed, not backing down despite the slightly shorter man getting in his face. “You’re not gonna go around trying to degrade women.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna stop me, Mr. Nice guy?” Nathan pushed Joel, but your partner barely budged.

“You fuckin’ cuck,” Nathan muttered. “Why do you even care about this whore?”

Nathan took a second to think about it, glancing between the two of you before a light seemed to go off in his little brain.

“Oh, I know. You’re that guy from the soccer games. You two together now?" His condescension was almost jarring to hear, and part of you worried about what your clearly inebriated ex might say or do next. “I see you’re still the community cumrag,” he directed at you.

You hardly had a moment to process what was just said before Joel was swinging, clearly seeing red as he threw a hefty right hook at your ex, leaving a nasty crunching sound as he fell to the ground.

“Don’t talk about her, or any other fucking woman like that ever again,” he squatted down to his level, and grabbed both of his cheeks. “Leave her the fuck alone, you understand me? Or next time you’re gonna wish it was just your nose.”

Nathan cradled his bloody nose and whimpered and Joel walked back to you, the fury on his face melting into something apologetic as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he began, cautiously approaching you as if he was something to be afraid of. “I shouldn’t have done that. I overstepped-“

“Joel. Don’t apologize. Do you know how much that asshole deserved it? You did everyone a favor tonight, but especially me.”

You had never had someone defend you so literally before. Sure, your friends had argued with Nathan a few times on your behalf, but punching Nathan in the face had truly raised your expectations for anyone who claimed to be doing anything to help you. You don’t think you’d have felt this alive or cherished in years.

“Now let’s get you home and ice those knuckles.”

Four

You were usually a big fan of rainy days. The sound of rain pattering against the window or on the roof of your car, and the smell of petrichor on the pavement were sensations you wished you could experience all the time. But today, you weren’t quite so pleased to see the rain.

You’d taken the day off to spend it with Joel, who had specifically asked for you to take some time off to be with him. You couldn’t blame him, as you’d been slightly neglecting him after things picked up once again at work. You’d had a whole outdoorsy day planned, with a morning hike, a visit to a conservatory, and a picnic at one of your favorite local parks. Unfortunately, none of those activities could be done comfortably in the pouring rain.

Instead, you opted to come back to your place after you dropped your kids off at school, and have a domestic little day-in.

After putting some homemade cinnamon rolls into the oven, the two of you found yourselves on your couch, comfortably sitting together and reading your own books while the smell of warm cinnamon filled your house.

Occasionally, you glanced out your window, the scene of rain granting you a sense of serenity. At one point, you noticed Joel’s gaze out the window as well, and you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Don’t you just love the rain?” you asked, setting your book down on your coffee table. It was more of an excuse to break the silence than an actual comment, but you said it regardless.

“It’s nice,” he agreed, his tone oddly somber for a comment on the rain.

“You okay, big guy?” you asked before moving closer to Joel.

“I’m alright,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. There wasn’t any real concrete evidence that something was off, but something inside you told you that something definitely was off.

“You sure?” you asked, squeezing his bicep.

“Yeah, it’s just,” he paused, looking down at his book as if he was about to go right back to reading instead of telling you the issue. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke once more, “it’s the anniversary of Diane leaving.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d asked to be with you today.

You’d never heard Joel say her name before. Sure, you’d seen her name written under a polaroid or two, but you’d never heard Joel reference her ever. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really know what their deal was. Amicable exes? Divorcees? Was Joel a widower? You felt awful that you’d gone this far into a relationship and still didn’t know anything about his last significant one.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not completely sure how to react. You mainly wanted to get a gauge on Joel’s reaction–just how upset was he? Did he want to talk about it? Or just get the importance of the day out in the open?

“It’s just… Today feels like that day in a lot of ways.”

You nodded slowly, still not exactly sure of how to approach the situation. You thought back to all of the times he’d been there to support you when you were having a rough day, and ended up asking aloud, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Maybe just listening, if that’s okay. It helps to talk about it,” he paused. “The rolls smell done. I’ll go get them,” with that, he was off to the kitchen, barely giving you time to react, or even protest his departure.

He clearly wanted to talk, but just wasn’t completely ready to do so at that moment. You could listen. You could be the best damn listener on the planet if that was what Joel needed from you. No matter what he revealed to you today, you were determined to make Joel feel comfortable, and know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone—just as he’d shown you in the past.

By the time he came back to the living room, Joel offered you a plate with an iced cinnamon roll and acted like everything was normal. He sat back down next to you, stole a bite from your plate, then buried his nose right back into his novel.

You respected his right to process his emotions in any way he saw fit. All you could do was be a good partner, and offer whatever he needed from you to feel better, like he’d done for you so many times before.

While you were fine with spending your day cuddled up on the sofa and reading, you were also aware that there were a good amount of house chores that were calling your name. Upon mentioning these tasks, Joel insisted on helping out, which was how you two landed in the laundry room, laughing at something stupid that had happened to you this week.

While you loaded light clothes into your washer, Joel suddenly caught you off guard with a question that was a far cry from the banter you’d just been having only moments before.

“Is it… are you okay with me talking about it?”

By it you could only assume he meant the giant elephant of a woman in the room.

“Of course,” you turned to him, offering sympathetic eyes.

“She left just a few months after Sarah was born,” Joel busied himself by pouring out laundry detergent and fabric softeners. “I just woke up one morning to an empty bed and a note in the kitchen saying she was leaving, she wasn’t coming back, and not to look for her.”

You were taken aback by the cruelty of such an abrupt ending, especially with such a young infant. You couldn’t imagine being put in those circumstances so unexpectedly.

Joel casually poured the respective liquids into their proper places in the machine, then turned it on. “It was a day just like this. The nursery had a nice, big window that we put a rocking chair in front of. Sarah liked looking at the stars when she was younger, it always helped to calm her down. I remember holding her in that chair and bawling my eyes out while she cried too, and with all the rain against the window… it felt like the Earth was crying right along with us.”

You weren’t sure what to say or how to react, but it seemed like Joel was prepared to move right on, quickly changing the subject as he led you out of the laundry room.

Baking cinnamon rolls had left a lot of dishes in the sink, but luckily for you, you had an extra set of hands to help you out. Joel was on rinsing duty, and you were on loading.

You quickly found your rhythm, as you often did with partnered tasks. You worked quietly while loading the dishes, letting the music from your speaker fill up the silence, but it was obvious Joel was lost in thought.

Eventually, he quietly began to speak again, “I kept trying to make sense of her leaving. I knew that postpartum depression hit her really hard, and that she was barely sleeping at night because of how often Sarah was crying. Sarah was a really sensitive, fussy baby. She’d told me how she’d felt a few times, and I always kinda thought things would just pass. Every new parent hits that roadbump where they just can’t see themselves doing this thing forever, right? Then, she just left. I thought maybe she just needed a few days away, and that she’d be back. But days went by, then weeks, then it had been a month, and it was still just Sarah and I.”

“Did she ever come back around?” you asked, setting down the last dish into the sink, then closing the machine.

“Never heard from her again.”

You closed the distance between you and the man, wrapping him in as tight of a hug that you could manage.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered into his shirt as he melted into your embrace. “I can’t even imagine how painful and stressful that was.”

As a mother, you couldn’t imagine abandoning your child; the tiny human being you spent nine months carrying, and would spend a lifetime loving. But as a human, you understood the stress of being the parent of a newborn. Waking up every few hours because your baby is crying and you’ve tried everything to get her to stop but she just… won’t. Paired with postpartum depression, which you were no stranger to, you could understand the circumstances that led Diane to feeling like she had no other option but to leave. But that didn’t, in any way, make it the right thing to do.

As you held Joel, a sound you hadn’t ever heard from him escaped his lips, wracking his body. A guttural cry that had clearly been trapped deep inside of him for the longest time had suddenly escaped as he recalled an event that had clearly changed his life.

You stood in the kitchen holding him for what felt like forever, when he finally pulled away, wiping his face a little bit.

“Thank you,” was all that he managed to get out.

You laid next to him in bed after a rather emotionally loaded session of lovemaking, trying to catch your breath as the two of you recovered from the underlying emotional and physical aftermath of your fornication. As Joel spooned you, a question lingered on your mind.

“Do you still love her?” you asked, keeping your eyes forward on the wall. You wanted to say you were sure he had moved on, but these types of situations were rather nuanced. There were just some bonds that regardless of time or circumstances, people continued to hold on to.

“No,” he answered clearly. “I don’t hate her, either. I guess I just understand her. But that doesn’t make what she put me or Sarah through any better.”

You slipped your hand down to where his were currently laying on your stomach, and you set one on top of his.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just curious. Do you ever miss her?”

“I used to,” he sighed, the close breath blowing some hairs on your neck. “I don’t anymore.”

Eventually, your laundry was dry, meaning you two needed to get out of bed and get to folding.

“She has a new family, now,” he said out of the blue, as he folded up a pair of your pajama pants. “Husband, kids, dog, the full nine yards. Tommy found her Facebook a few years ago, but I still haven’t looked. I don’t really know why.”

You didn’t really know why either, but you knew exactly the feeling he was experiencing. Seeing your ex who you’d invested so much into and had a child with move on with someone was a particularly gut wrenching feeling. You could only imagine how much worse it was in Joel’s scenario, where Diane had abandoned him and their child, yet had a child and built another family elsewhere.

“Does Sarah know?” you asked, putting a blouse onto a hanger.

“Bits and pieces. She kinda just accepted that her mom’s not in the picture, but doesn’t know why she left or anything about her mom’s new family,” Joel finished up with his basket, then began to help you with yours. “Maybe when she’s older. Old enough to understand that it isn’t her fault and that these things just… happen sometimes.”

“I guess,” you frowned as you grabbed your last article of clothing and hung it up. “It shouldn’t have happened, though. Neither of you deserved to be abandoned.”

“It was gonna happen one way or another,” Joel shrugged, putting your baskets away. “Our relationship had been on the rocks even before Diane became pregnant. If it wasn’t then, it would be later. I’m just glad it happened early enough that Sarah doesn’t remember. You in the mood for a coffee?”

His words gave you a bit of whiplash, but you accepted the offer of a warm drink regardless.

You sat at your table, stirring your drink as Joel sat down across from you.

“Good, right?” he asked. “I think I’ve officially nailed the way you like your coffee.”

“It’s pretty good,” you admitted, taking a sip from a mug that Chloe had decorated in her school’s art class.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. It is one,” you hummed.

It was clear that his mood was slightly improving the more that he talked about his experience. You wondered just how much of this information he’d shared with anyone else before you, as he told the story as if he were confessing something for the first time ever.

“I’ve never told anyone this much about it,” he confessed. “I’m glad that of all the people I could’ve told, it ended up being you.”

“Joel, I,” the words popped into your head, but died on your tongue. “I care about you so much. I know this can’t be easy to talk about, so thank you for sharing this with me,” you squeezed his hands across the table.

“Thank you for being so supportive. I also care about you a lot. So much that it scares me. Especially knowing that you could lose everything in a literal night,” he admitted.

“Oh Joel,” you said softly. “I’m also scared. I’m always so scared that I’ll lose you and Sarah and this little blended family we’ve made. But if that’s the price I pay for… caring about you so much, I’m okay with being afraid.”

Joel looked at you like he had something to say, but instead sat there quietly for a moment, processing your words. “Do you want to watch an episode of The Bachelorette?”

“Is that even a question? C’mon,” you stood up.

The two of you cuddled up on the couch once again, this time with a much lighter feeling in the room, partially due to what Joel had confessed to you, and partially due to the absolutely ridiculous content playing on your television.

“I’m sad that I had to go through what I had to go through, but I’m glad that it led me to you,” Joel said out of the blue, resting his forehead against yours.

You were glad that he found you too.

Five

It wasn’t every day that the forces of the universe seemed to be on your side, but for some reason, today was one of those days.

When you’d been called into your boss’ office that morning, a pit formed in your stomach. You’d figured that the day you were going to be laid off was coming, especially following the whole promotion fiasco. As you walked into her office, you fully intended to be walking out without a job.

Except, that wasn’t what happened. You had been promoted, and promoted into a position even higher than the one you’d previously been gunning after.

Once you found out, you had to fight the urge to skip out of your boss’s office, singing and dancing with joy. Instead, you fought that urge by closing the door to your office, and calling Joel.

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“Joel, they promoted me! And it’s an even better position than what I was trying to get before!” you squealed.

Joel cheered from over the phone, making you somehow smile even harder. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you. I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” you giggled, putting your hands up to your warm cheeks.

“No, I’m serious,” Joel countered. “I know a lot of hard workers, and none of them work as hard as you. You’ve sacrificed so much to get here and it’s finally paid off.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you had more to say, but you decided to keep it to yourself. Mainly, how did you get so lucky to end up with a man like him?

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked.

“I’m just dropping Chloe off at my mom’s, then I should be free for the evening. Why?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place so we can celebrate? You picked the right time to get a promotion. Sarah’s going to her uncle’s for the weekend.”

“Sounds good to me,” you hummed. “I’ll text you when I’m heading over.”

“Alright. Again, congratulations! So proud.”

You hung up and attempted to get back to work, but you were far too excited to focus for too long. You somehow made it to the end of the work day and to Joel’s house without spontaneously combusting from joy.

When you walked in, you were immediately met with the smells of one of your favorite candles, mixed with the mouthwatering scent of fragrant coming from the kitchen.

“Joel, I’m home!” you announced, making your way to the kitchen only to find it very dressed up. The lights were dimmed, a crisp white table cloth rested on the table, and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers sat in a vase in the middle of the table, right next to a rather nice looking bottle of champagne.

Joel was finishing up plating something spectacular as you came in. “Please, have a seat,” he directed. You didn’t need to be told twice.

With the arrangement of the table, you almost felt like you were sitting at a fancy little restaurant, but better, knowing all the effort Joel had put into making the table look this way. He brought over two plates, set one over at his seat and one in front of you, before leaning down and kissing you gently.

“Congratulations. I am so, so, so proud of you,” he said after finally pulling away, reaching for the bottle of champagne on the table.

“If anyone in the world deserves good things,” he turned away from you so that he could safely pop the bottle. “It’s you. I’m glad you’re finally getting the recognition that you deserve.”

With the bottle opened, he poured you out a glass, then poured himself some. You lifted up your glass and Joel mirrored you.

“Cheers,” you said with a grin, tapping your glasses together, then taking a sip. Once you finished drinking, Joel leaned in for one more kiss before he situated himself back into his chair.

“I think you deserve a promotion from best boyfriend in the world to best boyfriend in the universe,” you softly laughed, looking down at your plate.

“Do I? I think anyone would celebrate the person they…” he paused for just a split second, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying such close attention. “The person they’re sharing their life with if they made a big accomplishment like this.”

“Honey, you’d be very surprised. I can think of at least one person who would view this promotion as a bad thing.”

“Well, don’t think about them right now. This is an amazing thing, and we’re celebrating you today. Not an insecure man with a Napoleon complex and a small penis.”

You laughed out loud, nearly choking on a bubbly sip of champagne.

“You’re right,” you picked up your fork and knife, reading to dig into the amazing looking meal in front of you. “Thank you for this, Joel. You always make me feel so appreciated and cherished. You’re truly one of a kind.”

He shook his head bashfully at the compliment, eating right along with you. It was almost cute how he never seemed to accept compliments, but certainly deserved them more than basically any other person that you knew.

“You always show me how much you care about me. It’s only fair that I do the same.”

“You’re so romantic,” you sighed. “How can I guarantee that I can keep you around forever?”

“Just keep being you, I guess. That’s all I’ve really ever wanted.”

How did you get so lucky? How did you manage to hit the jackpot on men with Joel, almost let it slip through your fingers not once, but twice, and still managed to end up with one of your favorite people in the world?

However it ended up happening, you certainly weren’t mad at it, and as you sat together, you hoped for things never to change.

Plus One

Given that you practically lived at each other’s homes now, you often spent your mornings together getting ready to take on the day. It was cute how you both had your own little routines and were able to coexist in a tiny little space.

Today, you stood in Joel’s bathroom, washing your face as the mirror across from you began to become progressively more foggy from the heat of Joel’s shower.

“My hair is gonna be so frizzy,” you muttered to yourself as you rubbed moisturizer into your skin.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come in here with me,” Joel shot back from the shower, turning the water off.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, getting back to work on your face as Joel dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy in the morning,” he commented as he approached you, standing next to you at the sink.

“I am not grumpy,” you argued, then paused once Joel gave you a very disbelieving expression. “Fine. I can get a little irritable in the morning. Especially when someone’s boiling hot showers make my hair get all frizzy.”

“I wonder who that someone is?” Joel looked around the room in faux confusion.

“Ugh, shut up. You are such a dad,” you fought back laughter, but you couldn’t really help the smile that appeared on your lips.

“Shutting up,” Joel acknowledged, grabbing his razor and some shaving cream to touch up some of his facial hair. You began to brush your teeth, focusing on yourself in the mirror to make sure that you were making your dentist proud.

Your eyes eventually migrated and were meeting Joel’s in the mirror. You flashed him a big, foamy grin, and he immediately broke into hysterics, setting the razor down so he didn’t cut himself while laughing so hard.

“Really?” he asked between laughs. “While I’m shaving?”

“Sorry,” you shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You are such a dork,” Joel sighed as he calmed himself down, leaning against the counter as he began to work on shaving his face once more. “Ugh, I love you,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth involuntarily, if the horrified look on his face told you anything.

It seemed like the whole house stopped after Joel said it, the dripping from the showerhead ceasing, the faint buzz of the air conditioner nowhere to be found, and the noises of your children downstairs coming to a halt.

You were shocked at the admission, and Joel seemed to be shocked that he’d said anything.

Now that he’d mentioned it, you really did love Joel. You loved how he supported you, and how he treated your daughter like she was his own. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he believed in, especially when that included socking your ex in the face. You loved his ability to be vulnerable with you, and the way that he seemed to always know what to say at the right time. You loved knowing that no matter how shitty of a day you’d had, Joel would always be there, ready to order your favorite foods and spoon you while decompressing with the worst, most trashy reality TV you could find.

You’d spent all this time thinking that you’d never experience romantic love again, that romantic love was tumultuous and exhausting, when you’d been in love with Joel the whole time.

You were one of those people who were meant to love and be loved. Joel had proven that much to you.

“I love you too,” you confessed, toothpaste still obstructing your mouth.

Maybe love wasn't so bad after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #soccer parents au

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tastesousweet · 13 days

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (x) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7 p8 p9

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : after three resentful weeks apart, only matt and y/n could find themselves more fond of each other.

warnings : angst, fluffy, mentions of alcohol and weed, sort of proofread

mickey speaks : THANK U FOR UR PATIENCE SWEET ANGELS HERE’S THE 10TH PART FOR YOU!!! tgwtt is already in double digits 🥹 only like 8 more parts to go

THIS IS PART TEN GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST PLEASE!!!

"COME on y/n we'll have so much fun!"

you haven't had a night out in weeks.

following matt's party, you swore off alcohol until your own birthday in mid-september, afraid of the amount you'd allow yourself to consume now that you're feelings are supremely hurt and bitterness coated your tongue.

it was difficult to turn down the first week, despite the smell and taste of any drink making your stomach turn you craved the drunken effect and secretly wanted to run into matt- just to see what he'd have the nerve to say to you. but the mature, wiser part of your brain knows there is nothing good to come from spiteful drinking. so you've declined every weekend.

you know in your heart that your friends only want you to feel good and have fun with them. it's the only reason you've tolerated this current conversation for so long.

"i believe you! but i'm just saying i'll have just as much fun with this bowl of strawberries and my bed," you reach into a cabinet for one of the many off-white glass bowls.

"baby you haven't been out with us in so long, we miss you!" remi beams kicking her legs as she sits atop your counter, fully dressed and decorated for her night out (contrasting the bare face, oversized tee, and panties you wear).

you sigh and look over to the three girls huddled in your kitchen, "no, you guys know 'm not drinking right now," you shake your head and push off of the counter heading towards the fridge in search of your berries.

"i'm just confused on why you're suddenly so strict on drinking? and regardless of the drinking you could have fun without it if you loosen up a bit..." erin replies while resting her body against the wall next to remi's spot.

you roll your eyes while your face is still in your fridge before shutting it back, "i don't understand what's not clicking erin, i don't want to go out at all! i want to stay at home and be away from drunk people and watch something brainless and then i wanna go take a fucking bath. i'm so tired of having to explain and repeat myself. please go, please have a good time, and please- respectfully, mind your business."

you run water over your strawberries and andrea's eyes widen as she turns back towards the counter to pour herself another shot.

"alright, whatever.” erin shakes her head, “dre, remi, i'm gonna go wait outside this is annoying. she can stay bitter," she walks out and whispers, "bitch," under her breath before shutting the door.

it's silent for a second as you begin to harshly cut the stems off of the fruit, remi comes behind you and wraps a caring arm over your shoulder for a hug, "are you okay?"

"yes, i'm fine, you can go have fun..." you turn to face her and offer a strawberry.

"i really do miss you,” you kisses your shoulder and bites into the strawberry, “love you," she reminds you as she grabs her bag and dismisses herself to check with erin. you nod your head and continue to stare blankly as you repeatedly cut.

andrea speaks up after hearing the door fully shut. she breathes heavily as she stares down at her hands on the counter, "cariña ("honey"), you’re not a bitch.”

“i know…” your voice is small.

“i know you do. i also know something’s hurting you badly right now and i selfishly wish you’d fucking tell me so i could help.” she licks her glossed lips, “but as long as you’re being kind to yourself, i can deal with you keeping this to yourself.”

your eyes brim with salty tears and when you let out a broken sniffle she's immediately by your side. "nooo don’t cry, i’m already pre-drunk! you know i will too!" you try to continue preparing your fruit but andrea turns your body to make room for a warm hug. you're quick to tuck your face into her perfumed neck and let out your feelings through cry's.

you had always thought that what andrea (or anyone) didn't know about your sex life with matt wouldn't kill her, but quite frankly it's killing you. you want to tell her everything he’s ever made you feel- for all andrea knows matt was once a silly crush and currently a little less than a friend to you.

but at the same time you just know she would tell you to stop seeing him if she knew everything. she would remind you that at your core you are far too caring and attached to handle recurring casual sex with him in the first place.

"i'm so sorry, drea. i really wanna tell you but i’m not ready." you croak pitifully.

not ready to accept the embarrassment of wanting him to like you this bad.

and for someone as willingly vulnerable as you, you’re especially not ready to hear her scold you a little for somehow hurting your own feelings and putting your friendship with erin on a thin line over some guy.

your words only confuse her brain more, but she can only continue to rub circles into your back and silently pray you didn’t do something illegal or, like, morally cruel.

౨ৎ

matt would love to say he hasn’t thought about you since you bitched out on him the night of his birthday, but he could never just blatantly lie.

he can say he has gone the past few weeks without reaching out to you- which mostly speaks to both of your stubbornness and pride.

in fact, you’re part of his reason for having his own night in tonight- though it’s far less sadistic of a reason than yours. he’s simply grown bored of the repetitive night life he and his friends have.

you were always there for him to tease and secretly fuck around with whenever your friend groups would combine for the night. but as of late he’s left sitting at the bar swigging down beers and scrolling on his phone (sometimes he’d get irrationally irritated at you for not posting on your instagram or snapchat stories, feeling a as if it was a direct punishment to remove him from knowing any details about your life) or until the rest of the group throw the towel in.

on the worst and most irritating of nights he’ll take an uber home by himself. and those were the nights he would get so close to being irrational- showing up to your house and confronting you was oh so enticing. but he’d talk himself out of it and go home to fuck his fist like you’d probably tell him to do.

and on the most horny and pathetic of nights he'd end up in the backseat of his car finger-fucking erin with her tongue in his mouth. it ended at that though, matt's skin started to crawl thinking of when you rode him in the front seat not too long ago. he had pinched his eyes shut and pulled erin's hands away from his zipper, swaying her with some sweet "i just wanted to make you feel good s’all" and a kiss before she left and he awkwardly drove himself home- pondering how little self control he had to be desperate enough to do even get that far.

so, he didn’t even bother to go out tonight. when chris and nick asked him through his closed door, he told them he’ll stay in for some “peace and quiet.” really, he just couldn’t stand to be disappointed by the guaranteed lack of you being there.

he sits in his desk chair, legs spread casually, and sketchbook held against his thigh as he scribbles around to formulate a few rough outlines for upcoming clients. somewhere in the mix he begins to sketch out a familiar cartoon cat, which only irritates him and makes him close the book abruptly, shoving it into his desk’s drawer.

matt rubs his hands over his face a few times and lifts himself from the chair, heading straight for his bedside table. he bites at his lips while digging through the drawer, eventually finding the pretty red hot blunt you rolled and gifted him.

he makes his way out to the patio, not bothering to turn the outdoor lights on; blunt, lighter, and phone in tow. he slouches into one of the many chairs near the glass door and places the blunt between his lips, shuffling as he digs in his back pocket for his lighter.

the spark of the bright flame highlights his focused face for only a few seconds while he pricks the end of the misshapen yet smoothly rolled blunt. he breathes in the smoke immediately, throwing the lighter onto a table nearby. he tilts his backwards to blow out swirls of smoke above him.

matt initially wants to wait to call you until he feels high enough, mostly to give him an excuse for calling in the first place because he knows you’ll be expecting one. but he can't fucking wait, he wants to know what you're doing right now.

matt continues to effortlessly inhale and exhale several hits as he searches his phone for your contact.

his thumb hovers over the dull button that would change a lot for him. calling you means looking like a dumbass, as if he can't handle not knowing you (apparently he can’t but he wouldn’t admit to it). calling you means he’s breaking this implied break up- for complete lack of better terms.

but who’s to say you’ll even answer and give him a chance to do any of that? and suddenly his phone is vibrating in his hand as he raises it to his ear.

it takes four rings for you to answer, though you're completely silent on the other end. he waits and you wait. he truly didn’t think this far ahead. you only give him a few extra seconds to be silent before you hang up all together.

matt kisses his teeth and redials. when you eventually answer again he speaks through the smoke in his lungs, "hi. why'd you hang up?"

"matt, don't call my phone and expect me to speak to you first." your voice has a bite to it that still surprises matt a little. it's so infrequent for you to be harsh or upset (as long as matt has known you, you've been nothing but cheerful and well… sunny) that it's oddly pleasant to see how you handle negative emotions- it reminds him that you’re not always good, something he’d always weirdly envied about you.

he releases more smoke in the air around him, "my bad, sweetheart."

"just tell me why you’re calling. are you drunk or ...?"

"no. i just wanted to know what you're doing."

you sigh heavily, "why does that concern you...?"

his eyes pinch as he stares out into the dark backyard, "why're you bein' so difficult? 'm just trying t-"

"matt. get there, please." you rush, though you secretly are enjoying hearing his voice and the romanticized idea that he must care a little if he’s reaching out again.

“yeah.” he takes a breath, “i don’t know. i’m just, like, here…by myself, and i wanted to remember what you sounded like.”

you smirk to yourself but drop it immediately, “okay…well, this is what i sound like.”

“yes, so soothing, i could fall asleep right here,” you can hear him audibly stretch.

“oh, i’m putting you to sleep?” you tease.

“yeah, i need you to come over and wake me up,” he inhales once more.

you’re silent and he breathes out again, “fuck was that too much- i’m sorry.”

“definitely. i need you to calm down, sir.”

“oh i’m so calm, baby,” he moans out playfully.

“matt, i’ll hang up-”

“woah! let’s not make such rash decisions?!”

“okay then.”

“thank you for answering,” his voice is muffled, “you could’ve blocked me- i talked to you so crazy that night and i do feel bad about, i want you to know.” he pauses and you silently process as he continues to compliment you, “you’re the only woman besides, like, my mother, who is just classy as fuck and way too kind to everyone whether they deserve it or not.”

you could never have expected to hear any words of admiration from matt in regards to you. “oh my god, are you near a couple of trees right now? how’d you get so sappy all of a sudden?”

matt takes a second to register your joke before his entire face crinkles and he shakes his head, giggling, “bad joke. such a bad joke.”

you let yourself laugh a little as well before pulling together, “thank you for apologizing, i honestly didn’t expect that from you.”

“well i don’t hand them out like that so i guess you’re lucky or something.”

“i guess i am…” you smile into your words a little.

“what have you been doing?”

“like the past few weeks or right now?”

“i was talking about right now but you can say both.”

“just was checking! i don’t want to talk to much, i know you’d hate to listen to it.”

“heyyy! really? throwin’ some shit i just told you i didn’t mean right in my face like that?”

“i’m sorry i had to!”

“you were holding on to that one, huh?”

“just a little.”

“okay, tell me everything and i’ll listen.”

“i know i made it seem like i’ve been doing a lot but i’ve honestly just been working a bunch. it’s not as much of a nightmare as it sounds though- working long shifts has helped me fall asleep quicker. i’ve also started cooking a lot more whenever im bored which andrea looooves. and… um, right now i’m taking a bath.”

matt’s eyes widen and he chuckles, “dammit! i knew i should’ve facetimed instead!”

you bite your lip to hold back a laugh yourself, “what are you doing, matt?”

“guess.”

“i mean, i know you’re smoking but you could be in a random bedroom at a party or like, at some other bitch’s house…i don’t know, i’m just guessing!”

“never that,” he laughs- which you can’t decipher as a sarcastic or genuine one -and explains further, “‘m at home, outside with that perfect little blunt you made.”

“oh, for real?”

“uh huh, she’s treating me real good.”

“i’m glad. can you finish telling me how you’ve been?”

“yeah, um-”

“mattttt!” a very drunk nick suddenly yells while sliding open the glass door.

matt literally jumps and is immediately annoyed, you can hear it in his voice despite it being muffled now, “dude, you scared the shit out of me! what do you need?”

“hello to you too, ugh, i forgot you’re all moody right now. what are you even doing it’s all dark and shit?” nick hangs on the door has he peeks outside.

matt gets up to close the door again, “mind your business, nick. move, you’re in the way.”

“hmm, you are so weird.” nick squints his eyes and turns away yelling chris’ name in a blood curdling scream (for absolutely no reason besides the fact that he thought it’d be funny to see chris drunkenly run into the living room).

“hey, you still there?”

“mhm, yes”

“nick and chris just got back from the bar so i’ll have to help them chill out, um, yeah. i wanna hang out again. not even just to fuck if you aren’t cool with that yet, if we can be friends around our friends we can be friends by ourselves.”

friends? you and matt? hm. “that’d be nice, do you wanna just come over like usual?”

“i mean i could but we can do whatever you want, seems like you’ve been home a lot so, you know.” his voice gets more distracted as he speaks

“okay, i’ll let you know. good night.”

“sounds good, sweetheart.”

౨ৎ

MATT - 6:30 PM

Are you done yet?

Y/N - 6:52 PM

yes i’m coming now

“i’m sorry again for keeping you so late y/n, you really didn’t have to stay and help me close!” your coworker, angela, beams as she follows you out of the back door with a trash bag.

“don’t worry about it,” you smile to her as you walk with her to the large dumpster on the side of the building.

she throws a bag the size of her torso into the bin with a mumble of ‘ew’ before turning to you, “don’t say that! i know you have that date thing tonight, i don’t want you to be late.”

“i told you it’s not a date! we’re hanging out as friends.”

she rolls her eyes while putting her travel sized hand sanitizer back into her purse, “y/n don’t start with that…it’s totally a date from what you’ve told me.”

you both continue to walk towards the back parking lot,“trust me, he’s made it clear he’s not that kind of guy.”

“then why waste your time?”

right when you go to defend yourself you hear a car door shut, drawing your attention to the man of the hour, who’s locking the doors of his sleek black suv as his jaw works a minty piece of gum.

his black tee exposes his tattoos and his jean shorts are held up with his favorite black belt. you can see his light eyes are squinted due to the sun’s undying brightness from where you stand.

angela turns to you with a full smirk and softly slaps your arm, whispering and giggling, “girl, he’s hot!”

“oh my god!” you have an uncontrollable smile as you look at her, “stop it!” you look over again and this time matt is leaning against his car, ready to catch your eye and send you a wave of his fingers with his eyebrows raised.

you wave back then turn away once more, “‘kay i should probably go but i’ll see you wednesday, right?” you lean in for a hug.

“yes i’ll be here,” she smiles into the embrace as you kiss into the air to the side of her head, “you’ll have to give me all the deets!”

“mhm,” you hum as you both part ways, “bye ang!”

you approach matt without any rush and he takes the time to gaze over your complexion (far more radiant than the last time he’d seen you) and the way your mini jean skirt compliments the blushed red top you’re wearing. “hi sunny,” he grins and reaches a hand out to bring you into a hug, only for you to set the handle of your small purse in it. he kisses his teeth playfully, “it’s still like that, huh?”

“like what?” you condescendingly look up at him.

“alright, girl,” he dismisses, “where are we goin?“

“it’s a surprise for a reason matt!”

“okay… then i’m assuming you’ll drive?”

“not exactly..” you spin on your heel and walk away from him as a hint to follow you.

he wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you walk down the busy sidewalk, he gives a couple of glances down at your phone while also navigating the two of you. “metro?” he reads aloud.

“mhm,” you reply and smile to yourself while adding the tickets to your apple wallet.

“wow, you really planned this shit out.”

“i’ve never half-assed something in my life,” you say as you both stop at a cross walk.

“never? you have a brother, right?” he asks and you nod, “i’m sure he’d be able to come up with something.”

“probably,” you shrug and grab his wrist when the walking sign lights. “we’re gonna make it just in time, the bus comes at 7:10.”

౨ৎ

the seating on the bus is comfortably squished; you sit in the window seat and matt next to you, moving his limbs inward to give room to those walking in the isle.

you reapply a faded shade of red, black cherry to your lips while using your phone camera. matt watches with his lips pursed in awe. “that shade looks nice on you,” he says softly.

you’re already feeling giddy internally and he’s forcing you to blow your unbothered cover at this point, “thank you,” you smile and turn to see him already close to your face, looking at your eyes then lips. you just have to close the space by giving him a small kiss, mumbling, “it looks good on you too, see,” you move your phone so that he can see his lips outlined with the stain of you.

he laughs and pouts his lips while checking himself out in your camera, making the risky move to take a photo of himself, before giving your cheek a kiss.

౨ৎ

“jesus, for forty fucking minutes you better have brought me to an all inclusive resort!” matt complains while dramatically stretching his back.

the sun was now peeking down and the flashing lights of santa monica pier were extra enticing. “stop, we’re gonna have so much fun! look!” you point at the energetic strip with a childish grin.

“alright, let’s go then,” he tilts his head towards the fair.

౨ৎ

“definitely could have gone without that last ride- wayyy too many dips,” matt holds his stomach dramatically.

“i could tell, you were screamin’ like crazy,” you smirk as the two of you stand in the line at one of the many food trucks. two hours into being there and you’ve rode almost all of the rides, it was expected for matt to ask to stop for some sort of food eventually.

“barely.” he rolls his eyes, “what do you want?”

“i’ll have a water and one of those bomb pops,” you tell him.

“that’s not really food, are you gonna be good with that for right now?” he clarifies.

“yes, matt. thank you,” you smile and matt waves you off as he approaches the tall window to order.

“hey, what’s up man? i’ll just have a water, one of those fourth of july a bomb pops, medium fry and a modelo in a can please,” he flashes a smile and pays quickly.

you thank him and the cashier as you take hold of the items you asked for. “can we go walk on the beach?” you ask him.

“yeah, it’ll be dark as shit, but yeah,” he responds lightly and shoves a few fries into his mouth.

౨ৎ

“when i was younger my mom would bring me and my brother to the pier every summer since i was seven maybe?” the waves crash softly in the background as matt lays between your legs, despite the scratchy denim of your skirt. “when i was eleven my brother would want to go off with his friends in high school and my mom wasn’t a fan of the rides, so she would bring me to walk on the beach with her instead.” you recall out loud after matt had asked what made you want to come here today.

“mmm, reminds me of east coast beaches when i was a kid. we’d make a whole day out of it and pack up my mom’s minivan.” you stretch his scalp hypnotically, “just being rowdy and annoying as hell on the ride there and sleeping on the way back. being a kid is, like, the best and we never realize it when we’re there.”

“isn’t it kind of sweet that we don’t? kids don’t even understand the concept of missing childhood or being nostalgic until they’re older. if eight year old me were constantly dwelling on what’s passed i know she’d go insane. i mean, even now, everyone is always chasing previous feelings and never fully in tune with the one present.” you look out at the waves that softly build up and crash repeatedly.

matt licks his lips and opens his eyes, sitting up from your lap, “holy shit, sunny,” he kisses you and pulls away to laugh, “you just made me sound like a dumbass.”

he keeps a hold of your face, “matt you’re not dumb, everyone is nostalgic for something,” you kiss him again to seal your words.

matt pulls away and you stands up and begin to remove your shirt leaving you in a lacy bra, “come on,” you tilt your head and matt immediately stands up to cover you.

“the fuck do you mean, ‘come on’?” he starts to laugh while looking around for anyone around.

you roll your eyes at his protection and unbutton your skirt, “take a dip with me.”

“no?! y/n, that water is freezing...”

you pull down your pants to reveal a small pair of matching lacy panties that matt can barely see in the dark but he just knows would send him over the edge.

“matttt,” you pout and bring his hands to your exposed ass, lifting his chin to capture his lips in your own, “please?” you look up at him.

he pinched his eyes shut, “baby, put your clothes back on…”

“alright be lame,” you take his hands off of you and run into the empty beach with a freeing laugh.

matt stands there, not wanting to yell and draw attention to you both, but also not wanting to freeze to death.

“matt! the water’s not even that cold, come here!” you exclaim, wading in the shallow water.

“no, i’ll just wait here until you’re done cooling off…”

“matt, please! what if i-” you pretend to fall backwards and start to fake a drowning scene that has him undressing to his boxers quickly.

he ignores the rush in his blood from the surprise of the water’s temperature in favor of getting you out of there. he calls your name over and over, the pitch black look of the ocean doing absolutely nothing to help.

he’s pretty freaked out when you come back up and jump on his back yelling, “you saved me! you saved me!” with a cackle.

matt immediately groans and slaps the water, “fuck you, why would you ever do some shit like that?!”

you giggle and he throws you off his back easily, turning around to be face to face with you as you wipe your eyes, “oh my god matt, my mascara’s gonna run!”

“maybe we should think of these things before running into the ocean?”

you stop wiping underneath your eyes to forcefully push him under the water, giggling at the sound of the crash and his “don’t-!” right before.

“no more,” he spits out water and scolds you when he comes back up, inching closer to you and holding you by your hips as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“okay,” you agree and go to kiss his wet face just as he quickly unhooks you and throws you back under.

“matt!” you squeal as you resurface to hear him laughing, “dude, i’m gonna kill you.”

“truce, truce, truce!” he repeats and backs away from you.

“yeah, you better run,” you threaten.

౨ৎ

“your eyelashes are like sooo long when they’re wet,” you compliment as you stare at matt under the moon’s light.

he pulls you closer him to stop his mouth from chattering due to the cold, “i’ll give you my lash routine,” he jokes.

“i realized something when we got off the phone the other day,” you bring up, as your eyes run over each of his facial features.

“tell me,” he rolls his icy lips into his mouth.

“i never said sorry for being nasty to you on your birthday.”

matt’s eyes squint, “it’s fine, i’m not hung up on that shit. we said we’re good, right?”

“yes, but-”

“alright then,” he shrugs and squeezes your ass in reassurance.

a smile graces your face and and you let your head fall to his shoulder, whispering, “matt…i’m cold now.”

“i’ve been waiting for you to say that, oh my god!”

౨ৎ

you both suffer as you put your clothes back on over your wet skin. you’re both chattering messes and simply cannot stop laughing about it as you make your way back to the boardwalk’s strip of raging bright lights.

you don’t get far before you’re begging matt to win you an oversized faux fur leopard print coat, “it’s just what i need, please!”

and he’s spent almost two twenties replaying this stupid game over and over again. you’re a pretty good cheerleader though.

“come on matt, you got it this time! no pressure! it’s only like i’m dying of hypothermia!” he deadpans as he looks over to you, “what?”

it was a simple game of ring toss- that was most definitely rigged, but besides you reminding him this and saying you didn’t need the coat that much, the stand runner’s comments doubting matt was enough to fuel him to continue playing until he wins.

and somehow he tosses the perfect ring, watching it land and swivel around the bottle in victory. you both outwardly celebrate with screams and a very public kiss, that the two of you just can’t stop sharing today.

“congratulations,” the employee boredly says.

“thank you sir, thank you.” matt then obnoxiously turns around and yells out a speech to the random passersby “i wanna thank my mother, my grandmother, brothers, dog, and you people for giving me this opportunity to win something so grand for my sweet sunshine!” you stop giggling to give a royal wave to the many people judging the two of you, “thank you santa monica!” he blows a kiss and you both spin around to claim your prize.

“you two are like cartoon characters,” the stand runner says. and as soon as you start to grin at him he corrects, “that wasn’t a compliment.”

“whatever man, just give the pretty girl the fucking coat,” matt blinks at him. as the man walks away to grab the fluff off of the rack a few people stop by the table and matt warns them, “if i were you i’d keep walkin’, this guy’s a first-class hater.”

you drag matt by his arm back over to you, “did you take your socially-overbearing pills today?!”

“i have no clue, i think im too cold for my brain to process embarrassment anymore.”

“here’s that coat,” the man hands you it with a shake of his head.

“thank you, sir!” you exclaim and immediately fit your arms from the sleeves, “this is everything i’ve ever wanted!” you say as your jaw goes slack.

“you look good,” matt agrees, “you also look warm, so now i’m jealous.”

“let’s go get you something warm, baby.”

౨ৎ

after a trip to a random gift shop for a hoodie, matt whined about needing real food so bad.

so the two of you stand at the hostess stand in a small mexican restaurant on the strip.

“for two?”

“yes, thank you.”

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, okay?” matt speaks close to your ear and you simply nod and watch him walk off.

you wait a few moments before the hostess offers to take you to your table, “did you want to go sit now or wait for your boyfriend?” she asks kindly.

you try not to make it so apparent that you enjoy the idea of you being matt’s girlfriend, “yeah, i can sit now, he’ll find me.”

౨ৎ

“i’ll have the chicken burrito please with extra rice,” matt orders as he sits across from you.

“and i’ll have the four birria tacos please,” you hand her the menu kindly.

you both are bundled up ridiculously with frizzy hair and barely-dry clothes, you’re surprised anyone agreed to serve you.

“alright, that should be out shortly!”

when she walks away matt asks, “why didn’t you get a drink? i’m just curious.”

“i swore off drinking until my birthday,” you shrug and fall back into the plush of the booth.

“mm, not smoking either?” he sips his water.

“i mean i haven’t smoked since early august but no i didn’t purposely stop.”

matt nods, “well if you were to drink, what are you ordering? i usually go for a corona but i wanna try something different.”

“oh strawberry margarita, a hundred percent. hits everytime.”

“i’ve never had a margarita so i’ll try it.”

your jaw drops, “hell yeah you’re gonna try it, i can’t believe you!”

“what can i say?” matt shrugs.

౨ৎ

matt plays with the toothpick in his mouth as you both sit in your spots for the bus ride home. he got to enjoy his first margarita and you took multiple pictures to document it, he bought you churros to go, and now you both are the most tired you’ve been in a while.

you quietly respond to texts that andrea sent you hours ago, asking what you’re doing and if you’ll be home soon, while matt lays his head on your shoulder sleepily.

eventually you shut your phone off and calmly rest your head against the chilled window for the rest of the ride.

•

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #matt sturniolo x black!reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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21wanderer · 5 months

Text

Not satisfied yet.

Body a day - #22: Satisfied

I wasn’t satisfied yet. I needed more. I looked at myself in the mirror, I was looking amazing already. This body was the result of me merging with two other guys. But I wasn’t satisfied yet.

The first one was some random douchebag from my local gym, Tyler, I think his name was. A real gym rat and self-absorbed jerk. I heard him make fun of my scrawny physique to his friends behind my back. He was an easy first victim and his body became the foundation, that I was going to build upon. After having absorbed him, I gained all of his muscles, from his pecs, abs and biceps to his thighs, calves and neck. It was a good body to start with, and really satisfying watching these muscles now serving me, but I wasn’t satisfied yet.

The second one was my best friend – or rather my former best friend, we had a falling out some years ago, and while I hated him, like he resented me, a part of me still missed him and yearned for him. He wasn’t particular impressed with my new body, but soon he was contributing to it, only struggling a bit as he merged with me and Tyler’s brawn. He caused my muscles to grow even further, my muscles became more defined. He had a very handsome face, that I would have loved to make mine, but his facial features mixed perfectly with mine, I could see us both in this new face, and I couldn’t complain, I was very pleased with this handsome visage. But I wasn’t satisfied yet.

Now comes the question; who will be the third person to improve me? I have been thinking, whether it would be an acrobat or a martial arts expert, who would perfect my already impressive body with their nimbleness and skill, or maybe an artist, or a dancer, or a wrestler or a professional trainer... Maybe three isn’t enough… Maybe I should just continue, absorbing people with any desirable traits and slowly progress towards perfection as I make their features and skills my own. I haven’t decided yet, but I wasn’t satisfied yet.

#male body transformation #body a day #body theft #muscle theft #male transformation #male muscle growth #male merge #muscle absorption #attribute theft

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qierxing · 7 months

Text

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly.

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?"

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back.

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far."

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?"

Another question out of left field.

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke.

"Yeah…" they murmur back.

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual.

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that.

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while.

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things!

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone.

Ace tried two more times to meet you.

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter.

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough.

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now.

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly.

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First].

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu.

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face.

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for?

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon.

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations.

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in.

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out.

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation.

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance.

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes.

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–"

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander.

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts.

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in.

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.”

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally."

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement.

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash.

"Cater."

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen.

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair.

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.”

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt.

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him.

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards.

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?"

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him.

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors.

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved.

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day.

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard.

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges.

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down.

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants.

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him.

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute.

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate.

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes.

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other.

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air.

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.”

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear.

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back.

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.”

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary.

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago.

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you.

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says.

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.”

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed.

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak.

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam.

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone.

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking.

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #damn this is the most ive ever written.....insane

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extasiswings · 3 months

Text

Idk what this is but those new stills hurt all three of my feelings so have some angst.

“I don’t understand what happened to us. I don’t understand what changed,” Buck says, and Eddie freezes.

Because he knows. He knows exactly. Every big moment they’ve shared, the beautiful and the terrible, and all of the little ones in between exist in the back of his mind in one giant tapestry of memory. A pulsing, bleeding heart of a thing that he tries not to look at too closely because the fact that it is always there, so close to the surface, never letting him out of its thrall is sometimes more than he can bear.

It’s been years. Eddie’s gotten very used to being in love with Buck. Quietly, achingly in love with Buck, knowing he can’t have him but not being able to stop. Loving Buck doesn’t feel like a choice, it’s just a fact of his existence, rooted so deep and taking up so much space that Eddie can hardly recall being without it, the person he was before—before Buck, before LA and the 118, before tsunamis and shootings and lightning strikes. There are days when loving Buck overwhelms. When he can hardly breathe for the all-consuming nature of it. When the want is so fierce that he can taste it on his tongue. Most of the time though, it’s manageable. Like a radio on in the background, volume low enough that Eddie can ignore it. He can be almost clinical about it: fact—he is in love with Buck, fact—Buck is never going to love him back. It’s been years, so Eddie knows exactly how to handle these inconvenient truths, knows how to handle himself, has gotten used to them. He never expected anything to change, assumed that nothing could surprise him after so long.

But. Buck stood next to him in a cemetery and started talking about a woman he had only just met—a stranger—seeing him, understanding him like no one else, and Eddie—

Something in him broke. Some fragile bit of hope he hadn’t even realized he was harboring shattered, the shards slicing him to bloody ribbons.

And all he could really think was, Enough. Enough now.

Things changed then. He’s changed. Their relationship has changed. And he’s been telling himself that’s a good thing. It’s good, necessary even.

But Eddie doesn’t know how to deal with this. He doesn’t know what to say when Buck is sitting in front of him asking about it point blank while looking like a kicked puppy.

Part of him is angry. He resents being in this position, resents how long it’s taken Buck to say anything, resents knowing he can’t explain himself without revealing things he never wanted to. Mostly though, he resents the fact that after months of work—drawing a line in the sand and dating someone else, pulling away in an effort to establish real boundaries that might let him move on—he is still as much in love with Buck as ever.

Mostly though, he’s just tired.

“We’re still friends, Buck,” Eddie finally manages to say. “That hasn’t changed.”

“But something is different,” Buck insists. “If—you would tell me if I did something, wouldn’t you?”

Eddie drags a hand over his face, resisting the urge to touch his chest where a dull ache has bloomed behind his sternum.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he replies. It’s not an answer, not to the question Buck actually asked, but it’s as much of one as Eddie thinks he can give. And it’s the truth—Buck hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not a crime not to love someone.

“But—”

“Buck.” Eddie’s tone snaps, raw and sharp and jagged. It sounds foreign to his own ears, an unacceptable loss of control, but he is fraying badly at the seams and needs out of this conversation.

A stricken look crosses Buck’s face, and Eddie forces his voice to gentle as he quietly adds, “Please.”

Please drop it. Please don’t push. Please don’t pull this thread.

Please let me go. Just let me go. Please.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment as Buck’s eyes scan Eddie’s face. But finally, as if he heard all the different things packed into that one syllable, Buck nods once.

“Okay.”

#chapel writes #911 spoilers #buddie

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zepskies · 9 months

Note

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @syrma-sensei

#ask me stuff #reuniting with Dean #Dean back from Purgatory #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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veryberryjelly · 3 months

Note

karaoke time ( send me a song and a character and i'll write a fic inspired by the lyrics ! ) with felix catton and cruel summer by taylor swift

(also i realize this is my second request but i want to give you options bc i assume not everything will resonate with you. also you do not have to write either of them if you don’t want to/aren’t inspired. i’m just having fun coming up with song and character combos.)

felix catton x fem!reader

"I'm drunk in the back of the car " + " And I snuck in through the garden gate, Every night that summer just to seal my fate " [ we're just gonna pretend that felix has a trellis XD ]

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝟏𝐊 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

you had been forced to be friends with felix and venetia when you were younger, your parents befriending the couple on the next estate.

it was easier for all of your parents if their children could get along.

at first you were resentful of your parents for trying to force two people to be your friends that you didnt even know.

but as soon as you met the catton siblings, your mild hatred towards your parents dissipated,

they quickly became two of your closest friends, if not your closest.

you spent every summer darting back and forth between your estate and theirs, soaking up the sun and each others company.

when the three of you became of age, you started going out into town together, hitting the local pubs every couple of days, switching designated driver every time.

unlucky for felix, it was his turn.

even more unlucky for felix, you and venetia had decided to get absolutely smashed, so getting the both of you safely in the car was a trial in itself.

music played softly through the speakers of the car and you felt the weight of venetia's head against your shoulder.

even with your eyes closed due to the world spinning, you could see felix in the front seat.

you didnt need your eyes open to know how gorgeous he looked sat in the drivers seat, mumbling softly to the words of the song with the wind whipping at his brown locks.

the image brought a soft smile to your lips as you heard the crunch of small rocks under the tyres signalling you were pulling up to your house.

you pulled your eyes open to find felix climbing out of the car and coming around to your side to 'help you out'.

and 'helping you out' meant putting his arms under your knees and around your back to carry you inside and up to your bedroom.

in your intoxicated state you could have sworn you felt him press a kiss onto your forehead after he pulled the blankets over you.

when the sun started blaring through your windows like an alarm clock, you did nothing to get out of bed, only turned onto your side and pulled the covers over your head in hopes of ignoring the fact that a new day had started.

when you actually decided to get out of bed, it was only to grab some water, shut the curtains and find some advil in your bathroom.

after that was all done, you crawled straight back into bed, risking taking a look at your phone to see the time.

along with a few texts from both venetia and felix.

you dropped your phone down onto the bed, ignoring them in favour of sleeping off your hangover.

and when you opened your eyes again it was pitch black.

and you may have slept off your hangover but you also slept all day.

shit.

you move to pick up your phone to see a flood of texts from felix asking why you hadn't come over today or why he hadn't seen you.

after a quick glance at the time you theorised he might be awake, but the rest of his house wouldn't be.

after sliding on a pair of leggings and a sweater you left your house, crossing over onto saltburn with every intention of simply seeing felix.

the front door was locked.

understandably.

and you had left your phone on your bed in your rush out.

fuck.

you rounded the house to the space below felix's window, completed with vine covered trellises outside his window.

at this late hour, it seemed like your only option besides waiting for the morning, and you liked your chances at climbing.

so that's exactly what you did.

you climbed up the back wall of saltburn, clutching onto the wooden trellis with one hand while the other knocked on his window.

thankfully, he was actually awake.

you spotted him crossing the room in some comfy clothes after dropping a book down onto the bed.

he didnt question why you had been climbing up the back of his house, or why you had no shoes on, just helped you into his room and laid back on his bed, opening his arm up for you.

" where've you been all day, lovey ? " he questioned, his arm wrapping around you and his hand moving to take your hair away from your face.

" hungover . " was your simple answer as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck.

it was safe to say that you had another incident of sleeping all through the next day, even if it was a lot more comfortable snuggled up to felix's chest.

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shaarlslec · 1 year

Text

me and the devil

words: 2769

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

warnings/notes: charles leclerc x reader, none for now; i've been gone but now i am back and i am trying to get back into writing, this is only an introduction to help me get back on track;

inspired by: Soap&Skin - Me And The Devil, The Neighborhood - Afraid, The Academic - Why Can’t We Be Friends?, lovelytheband - i like the way, The Wombats - Turn , Wallows - Pleaser

masterlist

You have been friends before being teammates, each developing what seemed to be crushes on the other during that time. Then, you helped him achieving what he had always craved the most by playing the good cop of the game – and now you were turning on him.

Two championships in the bag since the 2024 season, Charles Leclerc was now fighting for the third one. Flued by the mistakes and wrongdoings of his team and his alone, Charles changed the game, and he was not planning to stop anytime soon. He had to win, he had to be the best that there ever was – and winning two championships represented the beginning of his legacy.

Charles had realized three seasons ago that the good old ways of listening and submitting to his team’s orders was not working anymore for him and his goals. Trusting them with his whole heart that they have a plan for him somewhere soon in the future neither.

First season since the attitude adjustment brought him the second place in the Championship miles away from third place, and the other two the winning title bringing the Italian team back on top, instituting dominance back on the grid. How that managed to happen, everybody wondered when the answer was rather smile – Charles Leclerc was done being nice, obedient, and sweet.

The Monegasque flicked a switch, decided not to follow Xavi’s words all the time over the radio and stopped the hope tap, instead Charles began staying up late every single evening after a race with the engineers and strategists to plan the best way to fetch the next win, not letting them move a finger without him knowing. The entirety of Charles’ life outside and inside the track was Formula 1, not even bothering to afford leisure time anymore, hours and hours of training, testing, and manhandling.

Starving for the win every time when he passed Max or Lewis, never switching positions with his teammate if asked too and sarcastically apologizing for any accident he had provoked due to his now very risky driving – no matter the drivers who were involved. That is what Charles had to do to put his team back on top, and to stop the laughs coming from his haters. Failures can make a man turn bad, and it has turned Charles Leclerc for good.

Ferrari minded at first, but after seeing how a good guy turned bad can win them races, can win them points, can cash for them, and put them back at top, the comments towards him from the team had stopped. No matter how harsh Charles replied to interviewers and no matter how much fuss he was making over the radio – they let him rule.

You were bothered by that to an extend that those sleepless nights that Leclerc had in the garage were your own too – figuring a way to beat him at his own game as his teammate. Yes, the truth was that Charles Leclerc could have not done it without you, without his sweet lieutenant: the one who agreed on being Ferrari’s second driver and forever little helper for Charles Leclerc to shine.

You took Ferrari’s seat two years ago, and the timing could have not been more unfortunate for you to take your shot at one of the bigger teams after rookie years of switching seats in between midfield ones. You were proud to be one of their drivers as everyone dreaming of racing could have been, and it was meaningless to say that part of the excitement of sharing spots with Charles was highly impacted by your undying little crush on him since you were just a junior.

Those feelings of admiration, marvel and curiosity swiftly turned into resentment throughout the two years. Oh, what complications your feelings for Charles were. In the same fashion, what complications you joining the team was for Charles. He knew you, and no in the way the others knew you – but in the way of him being your mentor throughout the years. He had always been talented, and you caught his drift from earlier on watching him climb the ladder as you followed in his steps.

You followed him around when you could, being five years younger than him and not attending the same tracks and leagues as him made it complicated to do so – and yet, you managed. Charles saw something in you too, although you two were not exactly from the same generation – he took his time before F1 races to watch you drive in your F2 ones and watch closely if you were taking his advice. He liked to think about you as somewhat an investment, but what do you do when you start to find your investment as something so much more?

The little protégé turned into the protector, having Charles’ back anytime he needed, changing positions with him every single time when asked, putting him ahead of you all the time for the sake of the team for two whole years. Your mentor-mentee relationship changed since you two were now teammates, and when you were not faking it for the sake of PR and Ferrari’s imagine – you were playing catching mouse most of the time. You obeyed for the first two years, and yet you were the first one to be feed up about Charles Leclerc’s villainous attitude that got him winning championships in the first place. Therefore, you were becoming a threat now although people in the time were already talking about your shift – Charles Leclerc was the first one to feel it.

“I am pretty sure I am faster than him.” You spoke quite calmly to your race engineer hitting the DTS zone while being 0.782 seconds behind P1 that Leclerc hardly managed to keep due to his tire degradation, “I am not waiting for your approval, I am passing him.” You declared, fingers almost crushing on the steering wheel.

“No, no, Y/N. Do not pass him, I repeat – do not pass Charles.”

If you could have rolled your eyes at the engineer, you would have done it in the most annoyed ways he had ever seen a woman disgusted by his words ever in his life. Instead, you keep your calm and speeded. Leclerc was not the only driver that was not listening to his team, you were not either – he thought you that through his actions, right? Well, Charles taught you most things you know about how to race for Ferrari.

It was never easy to pass Leclerc, especially this season since Ferrari managed their best to produce a car according to his driving style (jokes were on him in that matter, since you have been mimicking his driving style since you were fourteen). And yet, through the ten races this season had so far you quite enjoyed every single battle on track with your teammate. Full concentration on, you battled Charles for almost one full lap teasing him enough for his tires to almost fail completely and for your entire body to ache at every single taking of a risky turn wheel to wheel with him.

Fans were in awe; Fred and the whole team were at the edge of their seats with hands clasped praying you two will not crash like you did during the season’s last race (causing your car to be retracted), and as you passed Charles and maintained the ten last laps ahead of your teammate with a teensy half of a second gap or even less you knew that everyone was going to talk about how you stole P1 from Leclerc for the third time this season. Also, you knew how Leclerc’s reaction was going to look like in front of the others. Calm, restricted and with a congratulatory smile all over his pretty damn face. Fuck, it would have been easier for everyone (especially for you) if Charles were not to have such a pretty damn face.

“You needed to be stubborn, weren’t you?” Charles spoke as soon as your helmets were off and you were waiting your turn to hop on the podium after Max claimed the third spot, making sure that you two were the only ones hearing his words.

“You need to stop acting like a prick, don’t you?” You returned the comment making him room to pass you, “Go on now Leclerc, claim your second.” You dared to mock even further, blood boiling inside Charles’ insides as his dreadful glare pierced you with the additional shake of head and a corny smirk sprung on his face.

That was usually how many of your conversations with Charles went lately, sarcastic comments and calling each other on your surnames, faking the coldness of what was a made-up reality in between the two of you. In that type of a reality – you two hated each other when, in fact – you were drowning until the pits of hell together not in heathered but in a form of lustful longing and yearning Dante wrote about.

It was useless to say that your relationship was a twisted complicated one. You have been friends before being teammates, each developing what seemed to be crushes on the other during that time. Then, you helped him achieving what he had always craved the most by playing the good cop of the game – and now you were turning on him. Oh, more than acquaintances, less than friends and under many circumstances craving to be lovers.

The evening after the race called for a huge party thrown into your honor and the 1-2 finish for the team, and the timing could not have been more perfect as that was the last race before the summer break. You needed this, you deserved the win – and you were going to celebrate with everyone who wanted to do so. All the drivers were invited, Charles Leclerc included. Most of you knew that he will not came. Charles had missed most of the parties in the past two years, even though most of them were thrown for him.

“He is going too far with his World Champion vibe.” Norris spoke as the group you were with at the bar were talking about the bet that has been placed at the beginning of every party in the last year or so: will the champ come?

You slightly sighed, your bid for tonight was “no” no matter how much you would have wanted him to truly celebrate with you your win. You took one of the shots that were placed across the bar and drowned it whole. That’s it Y/N, you have to abandon the idea that he still finds you likeable.

Shaking your head due to the high percentage of alcohol you found burning your mouth, you turned to Norris and gave him frowned look, “You always choose the most grotesque shots to start the night with.” You added, napkin now glued to your lips.

Norris’ eyebrows cockily twitched up, “Wait until you see the other that I have plan—” Norris begun to speak but shut his mouth tersely as his eyes went behind your shoulders fixing them on whatever he saw that made him grunt, “Oh fuck – losing all my money again just because of him.” Norris muttered, eyes rolling as well.

Your heart sunk the moment Norris’ finished, Charles was right behind you. You could have caught that judging by what Norris just said, and yet what gave it away was the scent of that one Prada perfume you knew too well. Looking over your shoulder, your glare fixed Leclerc who was already looking right back at you. Besides sarcastic and bitter comments, excruciating long enduring stares was one of your things too. Perhaps they meant something more than just seeing who is winning at the game of asserting dominance, something in between the lines of “I want to touch you, and yet I am afraid I might get burned.”

“Don’t give her too many shots – she gets drunk easy.” He commented, and of course the very first thing your teammate said in a mass of people was about you.

“I don’t.” You childishly replied without breaking the eye-contact, knowing very well yourself that your alcohol tolerance was not something you could show off like you do with your driving skills.

Leclerc let a short amused chuckled escape from between his lips, “Let’s agree to disagree.” He then added, taking a shot as well after quitting in fixing your glare with his – you won this time too.

“That is all you two have been doing since the beginning of the season, aren’t you bored yet?” Russell interviewed with a swift move inside the party, patting your shoulder and gently taking you into a warm embrace, “Congrats darling, awesome drive today!” He then added, joining Leclerc for shots but not before he metaphorically turned the knife inside his friend, “I wish I could say the same about you too, Charles.”

You mimicked an embarrassed smile watching Leclerc giving George a side-eye, “Thank you, George.” You added, not missing on the chance of mocking Charles together with him, “You did your best, don’t mind George.” You bittersweetly spoke, Leclerc placing the empty shot glass back on the bar and giving you one of his signatures shake of disapproval accompanied by a short silence before a scornful comment.

“Since when does George Russell call you darling?” Leclerc then asked, watching George and Norris make their duty in finding homes for the remining shots made of the other drivers’ hands.

Your shoulders shrugged, “I guess it is a British thing.” You shortly laughed, “And since when do you care how other drivers call me?” You wondered, catching yourself too comfortable to really laugh in presence of Leclerc without the laughs being results of sarcastic comments exchanged in between the two of you.

Leclerc’s eyes widened for a short while as he found himself a contented position next to you, who were sitting on a high-bar chair making yourself stood a little taller to Charles’s side, with his elbow pressing the bar’s surface and his chin sustained in his palm, forearm fully into your sight now as well as his peering eyes on yours again. To add to this whole thing, Charles’ other hand wrapped its fingers on the edges of the chair you stood in.

Inches away from each other while the others were taking their seats at the woodened table at your left next to the bar waiting for the food, you two felt like you were alone in the whole entire restaurant – just as you feel when your cars are creeps away on the track.

“I don’t.” Charles replied, fingers gripping on the chair even tighter – sign that Leclerc actually did care on whatever appellatives others used for you when you two only permitted surnames in between the two of you, “We need to talk about today.” He then voiced and you could feel your heart sinking right into your stomach.

“We don’t.” You added, getting down from your seat with a hasty move that meant being trapped in between the chair and Leclerc for a brief second before he took two steps back, almost as if he was careful of your bodies not to accidentally collide, “I have nothing to say to you – I was faster and I passed.” You smiled right back at him, “Sucks to be the second driver at Ferrari for the day, right?” You spoke looking over your shoulder as you made your way to the table next to the others.

You left Charles hanging in there with no chance to reply. He breathed slowly, and after selfishly taking another shot from the bar, your teammate followed your steps towards the table but made sure to sit across from you.

Hours passed, food was served and finished, drinks were aligned and tasted. You enjoyed celebrating your win, and you would have wished for the one standing across the table from you peering with those beautiful damn eyes catching yours from time to time analyzing them back, to celebrate it with you too. Yet, that was unheard off – Charles Leclerc was not celebrating other drivers’ wins anymore.

You liked sweet Charles better than villain Leclerc, and you caught yourself thinking about this while Charles was exchanging shots with Pierre at the bar that evening laughing about unknown whispers coming from the French driver right at Charles’ ears.

In all loudness, Charles’ laughs echoed the most in your head and you would have been able to give up all your wins for him only if that guaranteed you that Charles that you knew back into your mentorship years could come back – that is how complicated being teammates with Charles Leclerc was for the moment, and how much more complicated it will become now that you were turning into the devil you were so afraid of walking with.

#he is so boyfriend coded is not fair #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 fandom #f1 fiction #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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jesuisici33 · 14 days

Text

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

tagged by @diazsdimples @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard @spotsandsocks so I haven't stopped thinking about buck's "yeah i'll check out a hot guy's ass but that's normal line" and we all know eddie's checked out buck's ass so...here's the start of something?

It’s always the alcohol isn’t it?

Loose lips, sink ships and all that.

That’s the only thing going through Eddie’s mind later when he gets home from Buck’s loft and his entire worldview is turned upside down.

They were at his place playing cards. After that one poker game he took Buck to, Eddie found he enjoyed playing all sorts of card games with Buck. Even though his math powers are now gone, that didn’t mean they couldn’t still have fun. Both of them had their usual beers with them, although this time they decided the loser has to take a shot of tequila after each round.

So far Eddie lost two rounds. Buck lost one. His limbs feel all nice and lose, his body practically draping over the chair.

“So how did you figure out you liked Tommy anyways? You know – in that way.” Eddie still hung out with Tommy a couple of times. And he’s seen Tommy’s face light up when he saw him get a text from Buck. The type of brightness only a man smitten in a relationship could be. The same type of face he remembers seeing on Buck when he told Eddie, I kinda can’t stop thinking about him. And he’s seen Tommy drop Buck off at the station, kissing him goodbye as Buck is literally skipping to the locker rooms to get changed. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Buck so happy before.

A part of Eddie loves that for Buck. He can’t remember a partner of Buck’s ever making him feel like that. Another part of Eddie feels…not exactly resentment, but something close to that. And it eats him up inside. He should feel blindly happy for both his best friends. Yet for some reason he hates that Tommy is the one that brings that kind smile to Buck’s face.

That same smile graces Buck’s face now. “Oh, when he kissed me. I didn’t even know I wanted it until he did it. That’s, uh, when I realized I liked men. Who knew there was a reason I was checking out hot guys’ asses after all this time?”

Eddie scoffs. “Well, that’s normal. We’ve all checked out a hot guy’s ass before. Doesn’t mean you’re gay or bisexual.”

Buck’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Um, right. Do you got any threes?”

tagging @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1

@exhuastedpigeon @liminalmemories21 @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998

@wikiangela @wildlife4life @filet-o-feelings @mammameesh @carlos-in-glasses

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @pirrusstuff @your-catfish-friend @watchyourbuck @daffi-990 @steadfastsaturnsrings

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stiltonbasket · 3 months

Note

Post sunshot campaign, Wei Ying leaves his ghost jie jies to babysit A-yuan while he and LWJ cleanse the battlefields of resentful spirits!

LWJ is still spooked by the ghost maidens but A-yuan is having the time of his life with them, and since WWX still trusts them more than the Lan nannies, he lets them be. One night, WWX finds LWJ taking notes from them on how to swaddle babies, make the best nutritional baby food etc and he’s melting from all sorts of emotions ;;

On a fine, clear night in the middle of Guiyue, Wei Wuxian wakes at the stroke of yin hour to find his friend's bed empty.

Lan Zhan moved into Wei Wuxian's room when he first came to Lotus Pier, determined not to waste a single moment with A-Yuan, and he was usually still awake when Wei Wuxian began preparing for bed. Once, Wei Wuxian asked his friend why he kept staying up past hai hour; and Lan Zhan had only stared at him before explaining that he could not rest until Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan were tucked away in their warded bed, asleep.

"I spent the entire war fearing that I would lose you both," he said bluntly, putting a hand on A-Yuan's little head to steady himself. "I do not think I will ever cease to fear it. It might grow easier to bear, in time—but not yet."

Afterwards, Lan Zhan even gave up his habit of rising at maoshi and started lingering in bed until Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan woke nearly three hours later; so where could he possibly be at this time of night?

Puzzled, Wei Wuxian slides out from under the covers and pads out of his bedroom, leaving A-Yuan fast asleep in his crib. It shouldn't take long to find him, he thinks, as he wanders down the lamplit corridors in search of Lan Zhan. Perhaps he went out to get a drink of water.

But instead, he finds his errant beloved—and how strange it is to think of him as such!—in the company of one of A-Yuan's ghost nannies, Meng Leilan.

Meng Leilan was the gentlest of Wei Wuxian's dead servants during the war. In life, she was the eldest daughter of a once-wealthy merchant, whose estate was seized by a rival when he reneged on his debts—and Leilan, then eighteen, was sold into marriage as a magistrate's third concubine, while her younger sister entered a flower house as a yiji.

Leilan met her death at the hands of one of the other concubines three years later, after her first child turned out to be a son—and though she remained peaceful for the first few weeks after her passing, content to linger in the shadows of the nursery where her baby slept, she was forced to bear witness to the child's murder not two months after his full-moon birthday.

It was then that Meng Leilan realized that she had been murdered as well—for she had previously believed that her death was the result of childbed fever, having died in her sleep two weeks after her baby's birth—and arose as a fierce ghost before killing her husband's second concubine in as gruesome a manner as her tortured mind could bear.

But she spared the second concubine's son, unable to do any harm to a infant even in the depths of her resentment; and after Wei Wuxian brought her into his service and told her that she might do whatever she pleased to any Wen soldier who had killed a woman or child, she settled, and asked to remain in the living world as one of A-Yuan's nannies.

But Lan Zhan cannot rest at ease in the presence of Wei Wuxian's ghostly servants, even those who had never shed blood where he could see it, so what could Lan Zhan want with Meng Leilan at this hour?

Curious, Wei Wuxian makes his way to his beloved's side.

"What are you doing here, xingan?" he teases, nudging Lan Zhan's shoulder. "If you and Leilan were going out to play, you should have invited me!"

"I did not come out to amuse myself," Lan Zhan replies, looking heart-breakingly solemn. "But Yuan'er eats solid food now, and I wanted to know which of the dishes we have at the Cloud Recesses would be best for him. You were asleep, and I was impatient—so I came out to look for Meng-guniang, though I ought to have waited until morning."

Ah, Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian laments to himself. He's been drinking my blood and eating solid food since the month after he was born. It's just that I don't feed him when you're in the room with us.

"Oh?" he says instead. "And what did Leilan tell you, then?"

Lan Zhan's fine mouth turns downward. "She said that a child born and bred in Yunmeng would fare poorly upon the fare of my clan," he says sadly. "It is fortunate that I asked her, or I might have stunted A-Yuan's growth. But now that I know better, I shall have to learn to cook."

Wei Wuxian's heart melts on the spot. "Oh, Lan Zhan..."

"But then again, I would have learned to cook for you either way," Lan Zhan tells him, rallying at once. "Yuan'er already takes hongyou in his baby food, so we might give him a milder portion of your food mixed with rice. What do you think, my heart?"

In answer, Wei Wuxian puts his arms about Lan Zhan's neck and tries not to burst into tears.

"That I can't wait for our wedding," he says thickly. "That's what I think, Lan Zhan."

At that, Lan Zhan looks so breathtakingly radiant—like a lonely white moonbeam fallen to earth and shaped into human form by the thrumming lingli in Lake Lianhua—that Wei Wuxian cannot help but kiss him, and fall back into the cradle of his arms as Lan Zhan tips Wei Wuxian's chin up and kisses him fiercely in return.

When Lan Zhan finally releases him, Wei Wuxian staggers backward, gasping—and finds himself clasped in Lan Zhan's arms all over again, for his beloved had seized him by the waist to keep him from falling over the side of the dock and into the lake below.

"Two more months," he says softly, smoothing his thumb along the line of Wei Wuxian's eye. "And then we need never be parted again."

He turns to bow to Meng Leilan, who inclines her head and vanishes in a cloud of lotus-scented vapor; and with that, they join their hands and walk back to Wei Wuxian's room.

Lan Zhan climbs into bed and falls asleep in less than half a ke, leaving Wei Wuxian to stare up at the ceiling with his fingertips pressed to his mouth in wonder—for somehow, it had not struck him that he and Lan Zhan will be married by the year's end until that very moment.

And then—

I'm going to tell him about A-Yuan, he resolves. Right after we get back from the discussion conference in Lanling. He'll love A-Yuan just the same, no matter how he came into the world—and he'll keep the truth secret for the rest of his life if I ask, even from Laoshi and Zewu-jun.

And with that, Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, and follows his beloved into slumber.

#wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cultivation baby sizhui au #my fic #long time no see for this AU!#RIP i just realized I last updated it in 2022 #anyway.....

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 6 months

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A moot of mine wanted me to compile this post and I had to oblige, since many people in the fandom decide to skip the comics for either story or artstyle reasons. Either way—

Top things to know about Spider Socorro from high ground comics series (for those who haven’t read it but want to know the tea)

Spider possesses a freakish amount of physical strength, and the comics make a point to show it on many occasions. To my memory, no one in said comics is put into situations where they are required to use brute force as often as him.

Pre-RDA’s return, he wore primarily red, orange and cyan on his clothes, jewellery and hair. After their return, he begins using the dull browns that we are used to.

Spider and Kiri have their own special slogan. While the whole family uses “Sullies stick together”, Kiri and Spidey use “War orphans stick together.”

Actually, the comics expand quite a bit on their bond. Kiri sees Spider as a brother, but not in a "friend-zoned" way or in "brothers in arms" way, no. She calls Spider a bother she never had, despite having two, and repeats time and time again that he is her real family. To her, Spider is quite literally blood-related, and I find it endlessly wholesome.

Jake says that in some ways, Spider is more of a Na’vi than he’ll ever be, but still has a deep-rooted anxiety that he’ll turn out like his father, though he keeps said anxiety well-hidden…most of the time.

Spider had a foster family at hell’s gate, the family of McCoskers, but he was heavily neglected by them, which ended up isolating him from humans even more. Nash Mckoser is especially annoying, as he rubs Spider’s insecurity about not belonging with Sullies into his face, and calls him ‘Miles’ instead of his chosen name. Father of the year everyone. 👏

Spider has a photo of his mother, Paz Socorro, taped to the ceiling of his bunk. He stares at it every night and takes the picture with him when escaping Hell’s gate.

Spider isn’t allowed to get close to the tree of souls during important ceremonies, like the council of clan leaders, as Neytiri doesn’t let him, so he watches it from a cliff on the edge of the clearing.

Spider apparently never looses his humour; not even when he’s almost out of oxygen and borderline choking. (“I’m so sorry Spider, we’ve gotta go around.” “Ha! You’re…killing…me *gasp* here!”)

But he can be serious when situation calls for it. When the kids were caught exploring the old battlefield, he takes responsibility for allowing himself and his siblings to go far from the village unsupervised, which led to minor injuries.

He then proceeds to be yelled at by Neytiri, as she exclaims that it’s "always his fault" and he "thinks he can wander wherever he wants — like all sky people". He has an outburst and they argue. This is about the only proper face-to-face direct interaction they have in all three volumes.

Neytiri regularly speaks ill of Spider, believing that he is trouble and will follow in Quaritch’s footsteps. The boy has always been fully aware of it, and builds a gradual resentment towards her for never seeing him as his own person.

When RDA return, Spider’s foster family wants to join them and leave the Omatikaya permanently. Spider is forced to go with them against his will, and Jake agrees with Nash, doing nothing to prevent it, perhaps influenced by the previously mentioned anxieties.

Spider gets later picked up by none other than his siblings (Kiri, Tuk and Lo’ak). They arrived to Hell’s gate in the night, determined to get him back, but Socorro’s foster father traps them in separate rooms, after which it was up to him to rescue them and dip.

Actively shields and protects Kiri as the group is running from the RDA tech on their heels.

Ends up on big bro duty when Lo’ak stays behind and protects both of his sisters 🥹 and he’s not playing

16. When reuniting, Jake asks Spider to go back to the humans AGAIN, and the kid has to remind him that a certain avatar is also half-human, and wasn’t even born on Pandora. That finally shuts him up.

17. When the flying ship the Sullies are in crashes above the oceans and Kiri drowns, Spider is the one to carry her back to surface. The size difference is insane.

18. Spider knows how to treat injuries. (he tends to the pilot of their crashed ship, who has a bleeding gash on her leg)

@meenawrites @dirtytransmasc 🤭

#atwow #atwow sully family #atwow kiri #Kiri sully #avatar spider #spider avatar #spider socorro #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #atwow spider #spider atwow #avatar high ground #james cameron avatar #avatar2 #avatar jake #atwow jake #Jake sully

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berberriescorner · 1 year

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“Are You Listening?”

Part Three: “Bad Idea”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: It’s part three…expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, drinking, and drama.

Word Count: 5,900+.

A/N: I just wanted to thank my lovelies again for showing this story so much love. I had no idea people would love it this much. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks💓. Enjoy the chaos😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist:

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Inspired By:

Dark clouds filled the evening sky as a drizzle fell against your windshield. Your thoughts were adrift as you fought to make a proper decision. There were only two choices. Accept the offer and hope for a positive outcome, or leave immediately. The loud vibration of your phone halted your decision-making. Sucking in a shaky breath, you accepted the call. It was your best friend. The word hello barely left your lips as she began firing off questions.

“Did you make it to your destination safely? Are you sure it’s smart to be around him right now? Should you trust him?”

You cut your friend off.

“Sis, calm down. Let me answer at least one of your questions.”

“Seriously though, Y/N. How did he find you?”

“He didn’t find me, per se. We’re just in the same state, city, and establishment. Ironic as it may seem.”

“That’s just a little too coincidental for my liking. Look, just be careful and keep your guard up dealing with him. Y/N, you’ve got enough shit going on. There’s no need to fan the flames. Your situation is bad enough. Accept his offer but keep your head on a swivel. Now, take your ass inside that building. Call me once you’ve settled for the night. Do you need money, sis?”

“How’d you know I’m sitting in the car? Yes, I’m good on cash. I withdrew half of our joint account before I left town. I should’ve emptied the account and made his damn pockets hurt.”

“It’s my job to know. You’re my best friend. I agree you should’ve drained that account, girl.”

You inhaled, attempting to calm your nerves, “alright. I’m going in. I’ll call you later with an update. Love you, sis.”

Even after ending the call, you spent a few more minutes in the driver's seat of your vehicle.

Oh, fuck this. Let me just see where it goes. It’s been years since I’ve been here. It wouldn’t hurt to accept the help of a familiar face.

Exiting the car, you enabled the lock as you walked towards the luxurious hotel lobby. Halfway across the threshold, you felt his presence to your left.

“I was starting to think you had changed your mind. It was as if I could see the thoughts racing through your pretty little head from the lobby window, sweetheart. I’m glad you decided to accept my assistance.”

“I’m not sure I’ve decided to do so. Listen, I appreciate the hotel recommendation, but don’t you think it’s odd, maybe even inappropriate?”

“Why’s that? Are you afraid that I’ll inform your husband of your whereabouts?”

“Cut the shit. Why are you being so helpful? What’s the real motive here?”

“Listen, believe it or not, we’re family. Just because you’re mad at Rio doesn’t mean I should just leave you out here all alone. I don’t plan on telling him I saw you. There are no plans to notify him of your location. I’m securing a place for you to stay because I wouldn’t feel right leaving you to sort everything out alone. I have no idea why you’ve left my dumbass cousin. The fact that you packed your bags and just left suggests it’s serious. I won’t pry. Tell me or don’t, but I will secure and pay for your entire stay here. No arguments.”

“If Christopher finds out you’re helping me stay away from him, he’ll explode. The two of you already have a strenuous relationship.”

“If he finds out. Then he’ll just have to get over it. I honestly don’t give a damn, darlin’.”

“What are you even doing in California, Nick?”

“I’m here on business.”

“What kind of business?”

“I’ll answer that once you explain why you left your husband. What exactly did my cousin do, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes at Nick, you walked over to the hotel clerk. She greeted you with a warm welcome, offering you help. Giving her your last name, she informed you that you were staying in the penthouse. About to object and ask for something smaller and less expensive, Nick interjected.

“It’s already been taken care of, cousin.”

Your head snapped in his direction with an incredulous expression.

“Are you out of your mind? No, on second thought, you're not paying for my stay here. I’m not letting you put me in a penthouse and allow people to think I’m your whore. Do you have any idea how that will look, Nick? Are you crazy? You must want Christopher to kill both of us. No wonder you two don’t get along. You love pushing his buttons. The whole damn family’s crazy.”

“Are you finished with your little tirade?”

“I see that you’re also a sarcastic asshole like Christopher.”

“Did you miss the point where I had no intentions of Rio finding out? Just take the room, and enjoy the luxury. I’m sure my cousin has been putting you up in the nicest of places since the day he laid eyes on you.”

“I’m starting to feel like you’re implying I’m a gold digger. Tread lightly. I’d hate to have to kick you in the nuts. Now do us both a solid and change the damn room. Be glad that I’m accepting your help, to begin with.”

“I think it’s best if you know something. I'm just as pushy and controlling as your old man, sweetheart. We both know I’m helping and paying, no matter what you say.”

“Switch. The. Damn. Room,” you growled.

“Fine. Jesus, you’re just as stubborn as your husband.”

“That offer to kick you in the balls still stands. Please stop tempting me.”

“I have a business meeting here at the hotel. I made arrangements for my associate to stay here for a few days. He’s a man of luxury. I’ll switch the rooms for the two of you.”

“Yes, do that, Nick.”

“I’ve got to admit I enjoy hearing you say my name.”

You had grown tired of his antics and landed a sharp jab on his chest.

“One more inappropriate comment and I’ll leave to figure things out myself. I don’t know what you think is happening between Christopher and me, but we are married.”

Not for long, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Even if I were single, I wouldn’t give you a second glance, honey. Please do not fool yourself.”

“Why is that? Am I not rough enough around the edges, like your hubby?”

“You honestly want to know?’

Nick shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “sure, why not?”

“You’re overly arrogant, and your sense of entitlement is ridiculous.”

He started to interject, but you pressed on.

“I’m no fool, Nick. Deep down inside, you’re hoping that somehow, some way, Rio finds out. I see you. You’ve been sparring with my husband his entire life. You’ve spent your life trying to prove that you are the bigger, better man than Rio. What’s the difference between you two? Nick, you’ve spent your entire existence having everything handed to you. All while my husband did the heavy lifting, grunt work, and the bids. Or have you forgotten about that? Rio earned his empire. He got it out the mud. You just sat and watched, sticking your hand out to take a chunk when it was all said and done. While Rio can be arrogant, it’s warranted. He can talk his shit and back it up.”

Although I’m pissed to the highest level and treading the waters of divorce, I’ll be damned if he sits here and insults everything Rio has worked hard to accomplish.

“Do not flatter yourself. You’re nowhere near half the man my husband is.”

Even if he is a cheating ass bitch.

“Such a beautiful, passionate rebuttal, and yet you’re here. With me, might I add, after walking out on mi primo. Let’s just call a truce. I’ll try not to flirt with you, but I won’t lie and say my cousin doesn’t have good taste,” he teased.

I just insulted him, and he’s still thirsty. Lord, help me.

“For the love of God, Nick!”

“Okay, I’ll back off. Now let’s get you settled into your room, shall we? I’ll accompany you back to your car. Carry your bags up to your room,” he responded, throwing his hands up in surrender.

With squared shoulders, you lifted your chin into the air.

“That won’t be necessary. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“Why do I feel you’re trying to get away from me? Are my good looks too much of a temptation for you?”

“Boy, stop! Don’t nobody want your shallow, overconfident, big-headed ass.”

“You’re so mean, mama.”

Did this motherfu-I know he didn’t just say that! Now he’s pushing it!

Moving closer, you crowded his space. The smirk dancing along the corners of his lips proved he knew the nickname he used was out of line and disrespectful. You looked around. Making sure he’d be the only one to hear what you had to say. Through clenched teeth, your words dripped with venom.

“So long as we both have breath in our bodies, don’t you ever make the mistake of calling me that again. Please do not get it confused or twisted. Rio did not marry a weak bitch. Call me that again. I’ll do Rio a solid and spray you full of bullets myself.”

“Aww, why not, sweetheart? Does it make you miss hubby?”

“Keep playing with me, Nick. It won’t be funny to you when I want to laugh too. I’m over this conversation. Thank you for the room. Now, leave me alone. Go make yourself someone else’s problem.”

“Fine. I’ll come by and check on you later, prima.”

“No, you will not. Goodbye, Nick.”

If Christopher finds out about this, he will lose the little sense he has left. Wait, why do I even care? It’s fuck him from here on out.

“I Gave You More Than You Wanted. I Gave You More Than You Needed. So Tell Me, How Does It Feel To Lose The One You Believe In?”

-Chloë.

The suite turned out to be very spacious and elegant. Much better than the cramped room you had stayed in the night before. You trudge through the doorway of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. It hadn’t taken long for you to unpack and settle in. Fresh out of a hot shower, you mope to the bed and fling yourself backward. Thoughts race through your head. You hadn’t taken the time to soak in everything. You were too busy trying to run from the situation at hand. Yes, there had been many crying sessions and stewing in anger. Now that you were in another state and settled, it hit you.

Did I just walk away from everything I’ve known for the last four years? The one person I trusted with my heart. My soul. He ripped it out and stepped on it. The audacity. The unmitigated gall to play with my love and emotions. Did he? Rio did that shit, right? How can he possibly have a reasonable explanation?

“You Never Miss A Good Thing ‘Til It Leaves You. And Finally, I Relaize That I Need You. I Want You Back. Baby Girl, I Need You Back. Gotta Have You Back, Babe.”

-Usher.

Just as the tears started to roll down your face, a call came through. You huffed, tapping the ignore button. Seconds later, it started again. The call went unanswered a second time, and a text came through.

It’s me. Please answer your phone.

The phone lit up once more. With a heavy sigh, you accepted the call.

“What do you want, Mick? I don’t want to talk to him, and he knows that.”

“Since you won’t communicate with him. I’m in charge of finding out if you’re okay. I’d personally like to know myself. You good boss lady?”

“Mentally and emotionally, we both know the answer is no. Physically? I’m breathing and somewhat eating. That’s the best I can give you. I appreciate you checking on me. As for your boss? He can go fuck himself. Goodbye, Mick.”

“Hold up, boss lady. I need to see it for myself.”

Mick sent a FaceTime request. With an irritated sigh, you angle the camera so he’d only see your face and a white wall. You begrudgingly accepted the call.

“See. Just fine.”

He frowned as he looked at your red puffy eyes. Mick could tell you hadn’t been sleeping much.

“Yes, I’m aware my eyes are puffy. I’ll be fine. Bye, Mick.”

Mick was about to plead with you to come home, but his face vanished from the screen. Your eyes sparked with resentment and anger as Rio appeared.

“Mama…”

“What part of I don’t want to speak to you don’t you comprehend,” you spat.

“Can you just fuckin’ listen to me?”

“You suddenly have so much to say! That’s because you no longer have me sitting at home. I’m no longer playing my role as your stupid little unsuspecting wife. No, not anymore. Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t call, don’t text me. Tell your boys to stop looking for me. There is nothing we need to discuss!” “Oh, I’ma keep calling and texting. Please, believe me. Mama, I will find you. You’re coming home; we gon’ work this shit out. Just let me explain everything. You’ll feel silly when it’s all said and done, darlin’.”

“You Didn’t Say It, But You Said It…”

-Chloë.

“Did you fuck that bitch, Rio?”

He looked at you with anger written on his face as his jaw flexed.

“That’s what the fuck I thought. Silence speaks volumes. Fuck out my face. Go find your whore and live a shitty life.”

“Ma-.”

You ended the FaceTime, not giving him another moment of your time.

I'm Going Out Of My Mind, And I'm Running Out Of Time. Oh, I Just Wish I Could Find You, Girl.

-Usher.

Rio stood there, rage coursing through his body. He gripped the phone in his hand tightly, “Fuck!”

“Anything I can do,” Mick questioned.

Rio took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He handed Mick his phone.

“Let’s take a ride. Red better have a plan. If I don’t get my wife back soon, it’s game over for her.”

“You think she’s the reason behind this?”

“It doesn’t appear that she knows what’s going on. We both know that her innocent deer-in-headlights expression can sometimes be a facade.”

“You’re right about that.”

“We have to find her. I have to fix this. Real shit, man, I need her. I love that stubborn ass woman.”

“Then let’s handle business and get her back.”

“Loved You More Than Ever, More Than My Own Life. The Best Part Of Me I Gave You, And It Was Sacrificed.

-Beyoncé.

Still reeling from the conversation, you tossed your phone across the bed. Everything was just too much. You were overflowing with anger, sadness, and grief. The betrayal of it all had you drowning. A sorrowful cry spilled from your lips as you curled into a ball. You remained in that position, cradling your face until sleep consumed you.

Hours later, your eyes fluttered open. The sun had set, and your room darkened from nightfall. Your feet flung off the side of the bed as a headache throbbed in your temples. The rumbles coming from your stomach echoed throughout the room.

I haven’t had shit since this morning. This stupid ass man got me going through it. I need a damn drink.

You called the front desk to ask if room service was still available. To your surprise, the clerk recommended the hotel restaurant. She explained that both tables and bar space were available. You thanked her for the recommendation as you dug through your wardrobe.

Let me at least look presentable. I can’t be walking around this nice hotel looking bummy. If I play my cards right, I may find my next husband. Nope, scratch that. Fuck these cheating ass men.

Rio sat slumped in the passenger seat with Mick at the wheel. Leaning back on the headrest with his hood pulled up. Rio sat there as his mind kept going over everything. They pulled into the park, waiting for dingbat and her crew. Once they were in sight, Rio gave his boy a nod. Mick exited the car, exchanging duffle bags with Beth. She told him she would have the next one ready at the appointed time.

“Did you find a way to handle the situation we discussed the other day?”

Beth shook her head with pleading eyes. She promised to find a way to get to the bottom of it. Mick nodded in reply. As she started to leave, Mick halted everyone’s movements.

“Backseat now. We’re going for a ride.”

With a frightened look, Beth started walking toward the vehicle. Mick stopped her again.

“Not you. I’m talking to you half pint,” Mick ordered, pointing at Annie.

Annie’s eyes stretched wide as the three women gawked at him. With a devious smile, he taunted, “don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of her.”

Beth walked over to the passenger window and pounded on it. She took two steps back when Rio rolled down his window. The look he gave stole the breath from her lungs.

“Is there a problem, darlin’,” his question dripped with danger.

“I told you I would get you answers. I-I just need a little more time.”

“That’s cool, but you may want to watch your nephew for little sister. His mama’s going to kick it with Mick for a bit. Got a little side hustle for her.”

“I can do it.”

“Did I ask you to?” Rio snapped.

“Please keep her safe,” she whimpered.

“Get me that information. Baby sister will come back better than she left. Stay safe, Elizabeth. We don’t want anything bad happening to the little mama to be right? It’s not very responsible of you to be downing liquor bottles, don’t you think,” Rio questioned in a knowing tone.

Elizabeth looked at him with fear in her eyes.

“I notice everything, darlin’. We’re going to take a ride tomorrow. Just the two of us. Check on the little bambino.”

He rolled up his window before she could say anything else. They sped off, leaving Beth to explain everything to Ruby.

Not wanting to turn too many heads, you settled on a simple black dress. You figured it was appropriate, given that it matched your mood. The form-fitting bodycon paired well with the dark red heeled sandals and lipstick you sported. Checking that the room key was inside your handbag, you exited the room.

The hostess gave you a warm greeting. She granted your request for a seat at the bar. As you claimed your spot, the gentleman behind the bar asked for your drink of choice. His eyes had roamed your body from the minute you sat down. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Prepared to answer his question with disinterest, someone stepped up next to you. Strong hands braced against the top of the bar. A silky baritone sounded, making your breath hitch.

Are you serious? Who else am I going to run into? This day is beyond me. Maybe it’s not him. I have to be trip-.

“She’ll have a whiskey sour. That’s what she used to drink whenever a frown touched that beautiful face.”

Yes. That would be the one and only.

You turned your head slowly to take in the familiar voice. His face was as beautiful as you had remembered it.

“Hello, mi amor. May I join you? I could use a drink myself.”

Confusion and shock danced across your face. You looked back and forth between the thirsty bartender and your long-lost friend. His eyes connected with yours as that handsome smile crept across his face. He signaled for the bartender to go ahead with the order. Taking the seat next to you, he chuckled at your expression.

“It’s nice to see you after all these years, querida. What brought you back here? Last I checked, you were happily in love. Are you and the husband here on business?”

Hearing him mention Rio snapped you out of it.

“Miguel,” you whispered.

His eyes crinkled as he gave you another beaming smile.

“It’s good to see you again. How have you been? Are you enjoying married life? What’s it been a year or two since the I Do’s?”

The smile that had occupied your lips for a moment faltered. Your eyes started to water as you looked away and faced the bar. Miguel’s hand covered yours gently.

“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Just as you were about to answer him, a familiar pain in your ass sounded off behind the two of you.

“Yes, prima. I’d like to know what’s going on as well. Most importantly, how do you know my associate here,” Nick questioned.

Nick waited for an answer as he sat there looking smug. A knowing look crept onto his face as if he had discovered a secret.

“How do you two know each-wait? Prima? You’re related to her husband?”

“What business are you two dealing in? Are you working with Rio, Miguel?”

Before he could answer, Nick answered for him.

“Relax, prima. It’s my business deal. Rio isn’t involved. We do have individual businesses. We butt heads too much to do everything together.”

“I wouldn’t do business with your husband without telling you, querida. Then there is the fact that we’ve never met in person. The meeting is my first encounter with your cousin. I’m sure you know Rio wouldn’t want to go into business with me.”

“And why is that? He used to tap that or something, prima? Maybe I should give Rio a call.”

“Are you interested in talking about business or not, Nick? That is the only thing that needs to be questioned or discussed,” Miguel responded in an aggravated tone.

“Hey, whatever you say, man. She knows I’m just teasing.”

“Then perhaps you should find someone else to aggravate. The lovely lady certainly doesn’t enjoy it. Is our table ready?”

“Yes,” Nick bit back.

“Then let’s get this over with. I do have other business to attend to. You have my attention for the next hour. We aren’t starting on a good note, wouldn’t you agree, Nick? You need to fix that. I assume the warehouse visit has been scheduled and prepped for tomorrow. Let’s make our way to our reserved table.”

“Right this way.”

Miguel’s hand gave your shoulder a light squeeze before he got up to follow Nick.

“I’m sure you still have Nestor’s number,” he asked, tilting his head toward his security/cousin.

“If you need anything, give me a call. It was a pleasure running into you, querida.”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded softly. Turning back to the bar, you downed the whiskey sour. Your fingers tapped the bar for another. The drink was halfway to your lips when Rio started blowing your phone up. With a deep sigh, you ignore it and turn your phone off.

“Bartender? Go ahead and bring me two more.”

The universe is funny as fuck. This man’s going to find me. I can just feel it.

You rubbed your temples as you contemplated where to go from here. One hour, four drinks later, you sat there wallowing in your pain. Thankfully you had made a conscious decision after the last drink to switch to a glass of red wine. Feeling buzzed, you decided it would be your last drink of the night. Taking your time with it, you nursed it for a while. Just as you had swirled the remaining liquid in its glass, Miguel reclaimed his seat from earlier.

“A penny for your thoughts, querida?”

Your eyes drifted from the stem of your wine glass to Miguel’s face. He noticed that you were slightly inebriated. His hand reached up and brushed your hair out of your face. The palm of his hand rested on your cheek.

“Don’t you have other meetings to get to?”

“I just wanted that smug asshole to hurry up and discuss the deal. The sooner we did that, the quicker your dear cousin would be gone,” he replied sarcastically.

“Hmm. Smug bastard, huh? That best describes his thick-headed ass,” you toast, downing the last of the wine.

“You shouldn’t be drinking at a bar by yourself, amor. I’ve watched half the men in here ogle you the entire time you’ve been here. Come. Nestor and I will escort you to your room.”

Miguel didn’t want to give you time to protest or continue drinking. He paid your tab and held his hand out. You stared at it for a moment.

“Though you’re wearing heels, those cute little legs still dangle from the stool. Come, sweetheart. I promise to be a respectable gentleman. I don’t make it a habit of approaching married women,” he chuckled.

Not giving it any more thought, your hand gently grasped as he helped you down. The elevator ride was quiet. That was until you blurted the one question that lingered in the back of your mind.

“Where’s your wife, Miguel?”

You noticed how his jaw ticked, nostrils flaring slightly.

“She had other plans tonight,” he answered.

Before you could ask him to elaborate, the elevator dinged.

“I do believe this is your floor.”

Miguel placed his hand on the small of your back. Nestor stepped aside, allowing you two to step out first. He asked for your hotel key as you walked down the hall. You turned the corner as you placed the key card in his hand.

“You said the first door on the left, right?”

“Ye-.”

You lost your train of thought as you started to panic. There was a large bouquet of yellow roses in front of your door.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong, querida,” Miguel asked as he rubbed the small of your back.

The worry in your eyes set off alarm bells in his mind. Miguel took a look and noticed the flowers. The distress about possibly working with Rio. The teasing from Nick. He turned to face you, blocking the view of your door. His hand caressed your face.

“Tell me the truth. Are you in danger? Did you leave your husband, querida,” he whispered as he searched your eyes for the truth.

No longer able to keep the emotions bottled up, your lip trembled as the tears slipped down your face. You nodded slowly. Miguel frowned at the response. He pulled you into an embrace as you cried into his chest. His hands rubbed your back as he attempted to soothe you.

The two of you stayed that way for a few moments. Pulling back from his embrace, you wiped at your tears. Miguel’s hands slid up and down your arms.

“Did he hurt you,” he asked, jaw ticking again.

“Rio would never put hands on me. He-he.”

Unable to finish the sentence, a fresh set of tears spilled.

“Okay, okay. Shhh. I think I’m starting to understand. Come here.”

He embraced you again. Once he calmed you, Miguel escorted you to the door. He nodded at Nestor, signaling him to pick up the flowers. Unlocking your suite, he grabbed the flowers and followed you inside.

“Thanks for getting me here safely. Sorry, I just unloaded all my emotions on you like a crazy person.”

“It’s fine, querida. That’s what friends are for. We were close once. Lost time won’t affect that.”

His thumbs swept residual tears away. He bent to your feet and helped you out of your heels. Standing, he grabbed your hand and held it. His finger lifted your chin.

“Try and get some rest. Come deadbolt the door behind me.”

Following him to the door, you watched as he opened the suite door. Stepping into the hallway, he turned to speak with Nestor.

“Have one of the other men come and watch her door for the night. If it’s not me, no one gets in here. Don’t even let them knock. Watch the door until your replacement gets here.”

Nestor nodded in agreement taking his position in front of your door. Miguel turned to you, his hand running down your arm again.

“If you need me, I’m on the top floor. Just ask whoever is guarding the door to call me. Better yet, here. Call me if you need anything.”

Miguel handed you a card that had both his business and personal number.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’m serious.”

“I’ll be fine, Miguel. Rio’s just adamant about us staying together. He would never physically harm me.”

“You can’t blame him for wanting to work it out. Any man would be a fool not to fight for you. Still, if you need me, call me.”

“Yeah, because Emily would just love that. She’s never been fond of me.”

“Don’t worry about her. I’m the least of my wife’s worries at the moment.”

No longer wanting to discuss his personal life, Miguel pecked your forehead.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Locking the deadbolt behind him, you made your way to the bedroom. Stripping out of the tight dress, you bundled up in a complimentary robe. Falling into the couch, you turned your phone back on. Six texts and two voicemails. You rolled your eyes. Noticing the flowers, you mumbled to yourself, “fucking Nick probably snitched. Little shit.”

You snatched the card from the bouquet and flipped it over. Your breathing sped up as your mind started to race.

What the fuck? I don’t need this shit. What next?

Hands trembling, you re-read the card.

“I see hubby’s out of the picture. Who’s going to protect you now? What better way to kick Rio when he’s down? He would probably be beside himself if his precious jewel came up missing. Stay safe, pretty lady.”

To top it off, now I have to run from his ops too? You have to be shitting me!

Snatching the door open, Nestor saw the look of fright in your eyes.

“The flowers aren’t from my husband. I’m pretty sure whoever sent them just threatened me. Tell Miguel I appreciate everything he did tonight, but I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Nestor talked you down. He instructed you to grab anything needed for the night and lock up. In less than twenty minutes, Nestor was escorting you to Miguel. He was anxiously waiting for your arrival. His hands instantly cradled your face.

“You’re staying with me for the night. We’ll figure out where you’ll go from here in the morning. Sleep in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

“That’s nonsense. I can sleep on the couch.”

“No, you won’t. No arguments.”

“Why are most men in my life so damn bossy.”

“They also seem to have the same types of occupation. You don’t seem to like men who like legal work, querida.”

“Ha, ha. You’re so hilarious.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Those mentioned tend to be extremely successful at it,” Miguel replied with a shit-eating grin.

“Anyway.”

The conversation was interrupted by yet another call from Rio.

“Look, I'm going to have to answer him. I’ve been ignoring him for hours now. I know his veins are about to pop out of his neck.”

You excused yourself, taking the call in his bathroom.

“For someone who’s always so busy, you sure are blowing up my phone. Go back to ignoring me, please. I don’t have the energy to go back and forth with you, Rio. I’m tired and stressed out.”

“Just come home, mama. I’ll leave and stay somewhere else. Just come home,” he slurred.

“Are you at that stupid bar that demands your attention as well? Go home, Rio. Sleep off the liquor.”

“I gotta be near you, mama. Who's going to protect you? What if someone tries to harm you while you’re not with me? I can’t live with that shit. I need my wife to come home. Come on, mama.”

“It’s a little too late to protect me now. Isn’t it? Don’t worry about me, Rio. I can handle this shit myself,” you snapped, quickly regretting the last sentence.

“Handle what shit, mama,” he barked.

Fuck.

He instantly knew something was up.

“It’s okay, Rio. I’m a big girl. Luckily my stupid ass husband taught me how to use a gun. You know I stay strapped.”

“Either come home or tell me where the fuck you are. I’m going to light whatever city you’re in up. Better yet, I’m about to spray any suspected target.”

“Don’t be stupid. There is no need to start a war on my behalf.”

“I’m not going back and forth about this anymore. Tell me where you are.”

“No, goodbye, Rio.”

“Don’t fucking hang-.”

Miguel stood propped against the door frame.

“I know he fucked up, but it sounds like he wants to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“Don’t, Miguel.”

He placed his hands up in surrender.

“If he can’t do that for you, I will.”

Yeah, cause my husband would just love that. Jesus, be a therapist. I need Iyanla to come and fix my life, bruh.

“I Can Understand Why You Want A Divorce Now. Though I Can’t Let You Know It, Pride Won’t Let Me Show It.

-Jay Z.

Rio had been sitting in his bar for a few hours. Though the argument made him even more aggravated, he took your advice. He wasn’t in the mood to take a chance at catching a DUI. Rio instructed Mick to drive him home.

He swaggered into the family room and lounged on the couch. The house was painfully quiet without your presence. Rio’s thoughts drifted to you as his chest tightened at the thought of you being in danger. Sighing, he closed his eyes in an attempt to shake the negative thoughts. Your scent still lingered throughout the house. Nothing seemed to help him shake the memories and intrusive thoughts. His eyes fluttered open, nostrils flaring. Rio was trying to be patient with you, but it was starting to wear thin. You could be mad for however long, but divorce was out of the question. Could he do a better job at loving you? Yes, and he was willing to do so. Would you be willing to give him another chance?

Rio’s buzz had started to wear off. Blowing out a breath, he stared at a picture of you two. The frame on the console table contained a photo from your first anniversary. Shaking his head, he stood up and walked over to the bar cart. Throwing back another glass of brown liquor, he fixed one more and reclaimed his seat. He asked Alexa to play a specific song. The lyrics hit home as he nodded to the beat and recited them. Song Cry by Jay Z flowed through the entertainment system.

“They say you can’t turn a bad girl good, but once a good girl’s gone bad, she’s gone forever. Mourn forever. Shit, I gotta live with the fact I did you wrong forever.”

What happened to everybody deserves a second chance, mama? Damn, I miss my wife.

Sis can't catch a break, huh lovelies😩😆? I hope you all enjoyed part three. More drama to come in part four! I can't wait for you all to read what happens next. Can't say for sure when part four will be done and ready for posting. I'm still taking things slow. Please, please, please love, reblog, and comment. I would love to hear from you all. My ask box is open as well. I missed y'all, man!

Be sure to check out the playlist I created for this fic. It's on both Apple Music and Spotify. The links are towards the top of this post (in case you missed. Still adding to it, so if you have any song suggestions just drop an ask. The playlist is pretty lengthy and it's best on shuffle in my opinion. Thank you once again for all the support. Words can't express how appreciative I am. Love y'all🥹🫶🏾! Keep scrolling for another bomb-ass mood board (saved it for the end so it wouldn't spoil the reveal)🥰.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics

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