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bettyfrommars · 3 months

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Whole Lotta Love

Eddie x fem!Reader

18+MDNI, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, pet names like baby and sweetheart, both Eddie and reader are over 20.

I received a request for a fic where, no matter how hard he tries, Eddie can't make you cum, and I was happy to do it because it's a much more common situation than how it's represented in most media. I'm not sure this is exactly what they were looking for, but it was a very fun thing to write. This Eddie had me giggling.

a/n: I wasn't sure I would finish this wip after I wrote the first two lines, but then I was in the mood yesterday and smashed it out. It was a very quick write, definitely not my opus, but a true joy, all the same. I hope you like.

wc: 3.1k

Eddie flopped onto his back, huffing out a satisfied breath. “That was so good,” he hummed.

The fingers of one hand drew a lazy circle on his bare chest as it rose and fell, while his other hand scrambled over to capture yours.

Shifting his gaze, he caught you staring at the ceiling, unblinking. “Was that…did you…?”

“Um,” you paused. It wasn’t that you were afraid to be truthful with him, but the fact that orgasms weren’t flying out of you at the same rate made you feel inadequate, like maybe you were the problem.

He propped up on his forearm, searching your face, brow creased with concern. “Did I hurt you or…?”

“No, no,” you rolled over, pulling the sheet up over your hips. “It felt great.”

At that, he gave an actual sigh of relief.

“But, I didn’t cum. Or at least, I don’t think I did.”

“You’re not sure?”

You chewed at your top lip. “No, I am sure. I didn’t.”

He traced a few hearts on your shoulder with the tip of his calloused finger. “Have you ever? With me?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Eddie’s mind raced to all of the times you’d been intimate in the past few weeks since you’d been together. He blamed himself for being too eager and sloppy, and shit—he was so crazy about you, it made him dizzy. He couldn’t believe you let him touch you, let alone cum inside.

His head snapped up. “But what about that time I went down on you in the closet at Robin’s party? I swear I felt you—”

“I was close that time,” you admitted, remembering how your legs shook and that heat began to build, in the same way it did when you pleasured yourself. “But then Gareth was shouting, looking for you and it went away.”

“Fucking Gareth,” he mumbled. “You were close then, okay. Can I try that again? Now?”

He was already moving down the bed, palming the crook of your knee to slide your leg open.

You put your hand on his head, glancing over at the digital alarm clock. “Not now, silly, I have to get ready for work.”

You wrapped the sheet around you and got to your feet, leaving Eddie to stare into space, alone with his tortured thoughts. “Come over tonight?” He yelled while you were in the bathroom. “Wayne leaves for work at 6, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“I’ll come over,” you said with your mouth around a toothbrush. You spat into the sink and then, “But I might be too tired for…other stuff,” your words were met with nothing but silence from the next room. “We can watch a movie or something?”

Eddie appeared sullen in the doorway next to you in his checkered blue and white boxers. “Do you not want to have sex with me anymore?”

“No, baby I do!” You assured him, eyebrows high on your forehead. You cupped some water into your mouth and spat it out while he ran his knuckle down your arm. “I really really want to, I just don’t want us to force this. It’s okay if I don’t have an orgasm every single time.”

“Yeah but it’s not okay with me,” he muttered.

You turned and planted kisses down his throat, dotting smooches along his collarbone, and then the final peck was on his pouty mouth. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, “I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

—------

You parked on the other side of Eddie's van at the trailer that night and assessed the windows curiously. At a glance, it looked like the living room had caught fire from the amount of candles that were lit. The song Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin poured out into the soft yellow light of the porch, and you knocked.

A few raps of your knuckles were met with a loud curse and something like a metal pot crashed to the floor in the kitchen. No one came to the door, so you entered with caution, and your senses were greeted with the smell of something burning in the oven.

Eddie was by the sink and he spun around with a startled look, wiping his hands down his jeans. He wore a Slayer shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and his feet were bare, letting you see the black toe nail polish you’d delicately painted on a few days earlier.

“What’s with all this?” You blinked a few times, marveling at how tidy it was. But also, there were at least 15 mismatched candles ablaze on the side table, the top of the tv, and the counter.

He wiped his mouth and went over to greet you. “I just wanted to set the mood,” he grinned, grabbing onto your hips to pull you close. “I read somewhere that the atmosphere can help with, you know.”

“You read somewhere?”

“Just one of those magazines at the grocery checkout.”

“I missed you,” he smiled against your mouth as you said it. His warm skin smelled spicy and sweet, like he’d recently showered and put on cologne. The yearning you felt for him was all-consuming. A few hours apart weighed on you like an eternity. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and already your loins were giving you the nod like, “yep, we need to have him inside of us.” You absolutely craved him on a sexual level, so why was it so hard to find your climax? It seemed to come easy for everyone else in the world: everybody at the party was cumming but you.

Eddie was nervous. He hadn’t felt that out of his mind since the day he confessed he had feelings for you, but if you didn’t feel the same that would be cool, because he didn’t want to fuck up the friendship: you were too precious to him. Your presence in his life made him feel sane and loved and seen in a way he’d rarely experienced in his life, if ever. A miracle happened that day, and you’d flown into his arms, asking him what took him so long.

But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t please you? In every way?

You watched a sitcom while you ate dinner on TV trays, and when you came back from using the restroom, he had everything put away, dishes thrown in the sink, and he was sitting very propper at the end of the couch, watching you expectantly.

“Are you, um,” he cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”

This was weird, he thought. He was making it weird. He needed to loosen up and not be so hyper focused on his mission. Maybe you were tired, maybe you needed to let your spaghetti and burnt french bread settle.

You straddled his lap, brushing hair away so that you could kiss his forehead.

“I think I’m ready to try again,” you whispered, and then you ducked down to nibble his earlobe. “Unless you’d rather stay here and—”

Before you could finish the thought, he was up and the two of you were moving out of the room and down the hall, kissing and fumbling with clothes as you went.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he nipped your jaw and side of your neck, banging the bedroom door open with the side of his fist. “I hate being away from you.”

There were a few candles around the bed too; on his nightstand, and a red one dripped wax from the window sill down the wall.

You stopped abruptly, staring at the bed. “Are those…rose petals?”

“Tulips, actually,” he rushed to the scene and swiped the soft pink curls away with his arm. “That was stupid, I just thought it would be—”

You caught his mouth with yours, tongues lashing at each other in such an erotic way that a small moan escaped him.

He wondered if that night would be the night he came in his jeans.

He wasn’t going to let himself cum before you, that was the plan. He’d jerked off shortly before you’d arrived, but that didn’t mean shit because he was absolutely ready again.

Suck it up, Munson.

All was off but for your underwear and while Eddie licked greedily at one of your nipples, you reached down to undo his button fly. “Release the beast,” you cooed.

He caught your wrist. “Not just yet, I can’t, I mean, I want this to be about you.”

“I need an even playing field if I’m going to be relaxed enough to…you know.”

He couldn’t get his pants off fast enough at the urging of your hand that was quick to breach the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. He was rock hard and the tip was already weeping, needy for you.

“Is this all for me?” You ran your thumb in circles over the tip.

Eddie tensed and huffed out a breath that fanned the hair away from his face. “Fuck, baby, every inch.”

If he wasn’t sharp, he’d cum right there on the spot.

You bounced when your body hit the bed, and Eddie dropped to his knees between your legs. The visible wetness on your panties were taking a toll on his already fragile state. He wasn’t patient enough to take them off of you, he just put his mouth right on the material, nuzzling at your pussy through the fabric in a way that pulled a few sharp gasps out of you.

“I missed her so much,” he pulled back the final barrier with one finger, licking a few times on your swollen lips, and then cursed. “You’re so wet already.”

“Well, that’s what you do to me,” you propped up on your elbows to look down at him, sucking in your bottom lip at the sensation of his breath on you.

He slid your underwear off the rest of the way, trying to recall what he’d read in that Playboy article he read a while back? Something about writing out the alphabet, and the woman you are with won’t make it to “x” without cumming.

“How does this feel?” His tongue rolled along your folds in a way that made you wonder what he was doing. He lost track of the letters at around “M”, hips bucking into the side of the bed, cock pulsing so hard, he had to reach down and take some of the pressure off.

“G-good,” you gasped. “Just like that but then, up a bit higher.”

You weren’t exactly an expert when it came to your own pleasure, either, you only knew what felt good when you touched yourself. If Eddie made you cum, it would be the first time you ever experienced that with another person. You wondered if you should tell him that.

He followed your instructions, swallowing while he consumed you, until he found the tiny pearl treasure at the top and your grip tightened on him.

“Hmm I think I found it. Hey there pretty baby,” he murmured into your cunt rolling his tongue around the spot.

“Yesyesyes, right thereeeee Eddieeee.”

The pressure and the speed was perfect and your hand went to his head for encouragement, but then he slowed down and moved locations, licking up the arousal that dripped down your slit.

“Baby? Could you go back to that thing you were doing a second ago?”

He compiled without a word, trying to find the same pacing again, but the moment was gone.

“Eddie—” you spread your legs wider as an invitation. “I really need you inside of me now.”

Well, he wanted that more than anything. But one pump and it would be all over for his dignity. His eyes were rolling back, seeing cartoon stars just thinking about it.

Truth? He wasn’t going to make it.

You noticed his hesitation. “We can keep trying…after. But I need to feel you. It’s lonely up here.”

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he crawled up onto the bed, kissing along your stomach, up between your breasts as he went, and then nuzzled at your neck. “My dick can wait until—”

But he choked on his last words when you took hold of him and rubbed the tip of his length along your wetness.

“Sssshittt,” his whole body trembled.

Sliding himself in, becoming one with you, made him emotional in a way he’d be embarrassed to share with anyone else.

“I love you so much,” your voice came out as a cry when he sank halfway in, locking eyes with you. The stretch made you squeeze around him, eliciting a whimper from so far back in his throat that he wondered if it came from somewhere else, some far off place.

Once he started to move, he thought about that sweet little pearl and lifted up enough to put his thumb there and move it around. Your head went back and you exposed your throat to him.

Eddie grimaced at how close he was, fuck that—he had to slow down. The way he was touching you, it was making you stiffen like you had when he was on his knees, and he was taking note of everything.

But then you started telling him how bad you needed him to cum, to fill you up, to make you his. He tried to hold out but then his eyes locked onto yours when you told him you loved him again and he couldn’t stop the wave once it started, no matter how hard he clenched his jaw and his buttcheeks.

One long babble came out of him as his thrusts got sloppy. “Oh fuck I love you so much I’m cumming so hard, I’m…I’m…holy shit I love you.”

He didn’t ask if you had come that time, because he knew better.

After he caught his breath, he pulled you with him, twisting onto his side, slipping two fingers where his cock had been. “What if I push all of this cum back inside so it will stay there? Hmm?”

You moaned against his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “That feels good, keep doing that.”

“You like that?” He asked, just to be certain.

You nodded, and then, your hand slotted down between your bodies and his arousal spiked when he realized you were touching yourself.

He curled his fingers to feel that soft, spongy spot, asking how fast you wanted it.

You couldn’t speak, your concentration was intense, eyes screwed shut.

Oh sure, he was getting hard again. The feel of his warm spend in your tight hole was doing nothing for his resolve.

You clenched around him, and then he was whispering, “let me try again,” as he kept his digits buried and made his way down between your thighs.

His mouth had no trouble finding the treasure that time; it practically peeked up at him, begging for a resolution. He relaxed his shoulders, breathed in the musk of your arousal, and took you into his mouth with a vibrating groan.

“Right there!” You hadn’t meant to scream it, but it was an actual eureka moment. “Oh fuck Eddie, don’t stop…keep doing…keep doing that.”

He hadn’t moved his fingers in a while, but when he tried to incorporate that into the mix, you stopped him. “Keep them still,” you held his head, locking him in place—not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be. “Don’t move your hand just…Ahh yes yes…”

Your jaw went slack in a silent scream, but then his pace quickened, and before you knew what was happening, the blinding white wave crashed through you, rolling through your limbs like satin electricity, making you whine an extended, “cummingcummingcumming,” while you clung to his hair so you wouldn’t fall off the earth.

Eddie was astonished to learn that could feel it happening. The juicy walls around his fingers spasmed, fluttering like tight ripples, and he drove his tongue in eager circles, wondering if he could make you cum twice in one go. Was that even possible? His heart all but flew out of his chest, it was beating so fast, and he moaned long and hard.

But after a bit, you were trying to push his mouth away. “Wait wait, now it’s sensitive,” but he was so determined, he didn’t pull off until you physically lifted his head.

He stared up at you, licking his wet, swollen lips.

You were breathless, letting the final bits of glitter swim through your veins. “That was—”

He kissed your cunt one two three times. “That was what?”

He was grinning now, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, or at least a new car. The sense of satisfaction was officially unmatched.

He made his way up the bed to hold you, but you surprised him by taking his fingers into your mouth to suck them clean, dragging teeth along his flesh.

“I’ve never cum that way with anyone else before,” you said in a whisper, but when he finally registered the weight of the words, his eyes widened.

“My sweetheart,” he pulled you flush against him, giddy, holding your face to brush his lips over yours. “I’m really your first?”

You gave his shoulder a teasing love bite. “And my last.”

“Oh nowww you’re in trouble,” he rolled on top of you, interlacing his fingers with yours to brace your hands above your head, and then he went to work munching at the side of your throat, growling as he did so.

You screamed and giggled, realizing he was hard again as it nudged at your hip. “I see you’re ready for battle again.”

“I was born ready, baby,” he straightened to see your face. “You want to try a new position? I was reading this—”

The front door to the trailer burst open.

“What the hell? Edward? You tryin’ to burn the place down?”

It was Wayne.

Shit shit shit shit it was Wayne!

Home hours early from work, for whatever reason.

The door to the bedroom was wide open and his heavy footfalls were rapidly approaching from the hall.

Eddie threw the sheet up over you, and a few tulip petals fluttered to your face. “I’ll be right there!” He shouted, trying to jump into his jeans. He missed a leg hole and stumbled back onto the mattress, making you snort out a laugh.

He got to the door just in time to greet his Uncle, blocking any view of the room, buttoning his pants as he stood there.

You could hear Wayne’s voice change. “Is, ah, is your girlfriend here? Sorry, I didn’t see her car.”

“No that’s cool, we were just—” and then he maneuvered him out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

You lifted up to listen to their murmuring voices, and then Wayne asked, “why is there wax all over the carpet? Blow these fuckers out before the curtains catch fire.”

You had to bury your face in the pillow to muffle your laughter.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #Stranger Things fanfic #smut

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toaarcan · 5 months

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I know this discourse is going to start flaring up again because Takes Off just released, and I've seen bits of it already, but the point of Scott Pilgrim as a series is not that Scott has to go through character development and stop being an ass in order to 'win' the girl of his dreams.

It's that Scott and Ramona are two fundamentally very similar people with a long list of exes who they hurt in very similar ways and they both need to stop that and grow as people in order to have a healthy relationship with each other.

This is highlighted mostly in Books 4-6. Volume 4, Scott Pilgrim Gets it Together, has Scott and Ramona's relationship hit a low point because they both mistake the other for cheating. Ramona thinks Scott is getting too chummy with Lisa, and Scott thinks the same about Ramona and Roxie, and they nearly fall apart because of it.

Volume 5, Scott Pilgrim vs. the Universe, contrasts Ramona finding out that Scott two-timed her and Knives and becoming outraged by it, and Scott being told that Ramona did the same thing to Kyle and Ken. In fact, Scott almost loses to the Katyanagis, and only manages to pull out a win because Kim lies about Ramona having off-screen growth to give him enough motivation to fight back.

And it's in Volume 6, Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour, that this finally gets hammered home. In the aftermath of his and Ramona's breakup, Scott slips into a self-destructive depression where all he does it sit around the house and play old videogames, until Wallace convinces him to go into the wilderness to find his feet again. After Ramona returns, she reveals that she attempted to go into the wilderness and find her footing again, but all she did was sit around her dad's house and watch old TV.

They're so similar to each other that they even mope in the same general way.

They're both hot messes who did some dodgy stuff, the major difference between them is that most of the people Scott hurt were, y'know, relatively normal, while Ramona's exes are mostly crazy people who decided to join up with a "League of Evil Exes" whose main goal is apparently "Murder any of Ramona's future partners and take her back by force."

The books are relatively light on details for how the League actually worked, but it's clear from the second episode of Takes Off that all of them besides Gideon believed that whomever killed Ramona's new partner would automatically be with her again, and they're shocked when Matthew tells them that she rejected him. Meanwhile, Gideon's overall objective wasn't elaborated on in the show, but it's presumably the same as it is in the books: Cryogenically freeze his own seven exes, Ramona included, and use the Glow to brainwash them all into being his girlfriends at the same time.

In Takes Off, Ramona is able to mostly resolve her issues with the Exes herself, over the course of her investigation into who took Scott and faked his death, but the overall difference between the book timeline and the show timeline is that one spotlights Scott's growth, and the other spotlights Ramona's growth.

They're perfect for each other, and it's because they're both hot messes who need to grow the hell up before they can have healthy adult relationships.

#Scott Pilgrim #Scott Pilgrim Takes Off #Scott Pilgrim Gets it Together #Scott Pilgrim vs. the Universe #Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour

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punkshort · 3 months

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somewhere to run | 6. the confession

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel finds out the truth and convinces you to press charges.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, domestic violence and SA (discussed after the fact), mental and physical abuse, detailed conversations about DV and SA (I didn't get too descriptive about the SA but I do use the R word a couple times) please let me know if I missed anything because there is a lot going on here

WC: 9K

A/N: as the title implies, we are going to get more details about what happened to reader in this one so once again, please heed the warnings and don't read if you think it will be triggering for you. I tried not to be too graphic.

Series Masterlist

Joel could hardly sleep that night. Instead of going to the station, he headed home so he could be with Sarah. She wondered why he got home so early from his date, but he dodged the question and the two of them worked together in silence - Sarah on her homework, Joel on his incident report. When she asked him why he was working from home, he just shook his head and said something came up. She was a smart girl. She knew something was bothering him, but she didn't push it and he was grateful.

He tossed and turned all night, his mind reeling while he looked at his phone every few minutes. He checked the volume, he made sure do not disturb was off, wondering if you would reach out, but you never did. Maybe it wasn't unusual for Patrick to not come home. Or maybe you heard what happened and you were mad at Joel. That worried him the most. The fear that his actions might have destroyed what fragile relationship he had left with you ate him up as he stared blankly at his ceiling.

Morning came too quickly and too slowly all at once. He rubbed his tired eyes as he dragged himself into the bathroom. When he leaned forward to turn the water on, he was met with a sharp pain in his chest. He glanced down, rubbing the area tenderly and realized a large bruise was forming from his fight the night before. He winced when he pressed on a particularly sensitive spot and tried his best to avoid the area during his shower.

After he dropped Sarah off at school, he headed into work, his heart beginning to beat faster the closer he got to the station. He had no doubt in his mind the whole town knew what happened last night, but he was too tired and too overwhelmed to care about their curious questions and senseless gossip.

When he walked in, he breezed right past Helen's desk with a curt nod, doing his best to avoid all eye contact until he was within the safety of his office. He booted up his ancient computer and waited, his thumb rubbing mindlessly against his lower lip as he stared out his window.

He would go to the diner today. He already decided he had to see you. The radio silence was killing him and he needed to make sure you were okay. He was embarrassed about the Facebook messages, even more so that you weren't the one to read them, but Patrick was right. They were not innocent. The words held more weight than they appeared, but he had to come to terms with the fact that you were not his, and then maybe with some closure, he would be able to move on.

The morning dragged on slowly. Bobby caught him at the coffee maker, already working on his third cup, depending solely on the caffeine to help keep him going.

"Hey, boss. You look like shit, but not as bad as him," Bobby said, pouring himself more coffee and jutting his chin to the back of the building where the holding cells were located.

"Feel like shit," Joel mumbled, leaning against the counter and taking a sip from his mug.

"Think you broke his nose," Bobby added, finally looking up at him. "Called the doc but turns out he's real busy this mornin', won't be able to come by til after hours. Such a damn shame," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Joel understood what he was saying without him having to say it. The people in this town looked out for one another and didn't take kindly to a stranger hurting one of their own. They were leaving Patrick to deal with his injuries longer than necessary.

"I don't think I broke anythin', he did that all on his own chargin' into that table," Joel said, but Bobby shook his head.

"Not the way he tells it," he replied with a chuckle. "You'd think you nearly killed him, the way he's been whinin' back there."

"No doubt lookin' for a lawsuit," Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry, boss. You got a bar full'a witnesses. Hank already offered to give a statement and he was probably the only sober one there."

"Yeah, good. Thanks," Joel replied, pushing off the counter to head back to his office, trying to ignore the sideways glances of the men watching him from the bullpen. He shook his mouse and grimaced when he saw an email from the mayor looking to set up a meeting with him that week to discuss the incident. He knew he did nothing wrong, but the more attention this brought him, the worse he felt. Eventually, all of that talk would make its way back to you and Sarah, the truth most likely getting distorted along the way. He made a mental note to have a talk with his daughter that night as he slowly typed out a response to the mayor.

He swore he would try to get some actual work done, but he ended up spending more time staring out the window or at his phone, watching the minutes tick by til it was lunchtime and he could see you. Maybe he could pull you aside and talk to you in private. Maybe he could fix this.

The moment the clock read a reasonable hour, he jumped up from his seat and snatched his blazer from the coat hook, rolling his shoulders as he walked and put it on, then stifling a grunt when he felt a muscle in his chest pull from the effort.

He kept his head down as he walked down the street towards the diner, only glancing up once when he passed the pizza place. Your curtains were still drawn, no lights on that he could see, no sign of life.

A few people called out to him as he passed, but all he could muster was a tight smile and quick wave, not in the mood to get wrapped up into any conversations.

When he swung the door open, his eyes immediately went to the counter, searching you out but only finding Betty. Before he had a chance to look around the dining room, he heard María greet him.

"Where the hell were you last week?"

"I was here Friday," he muttered, looking around and avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah, with Nikki. Heard some stuff about that-"

"Is she here?" Joel asked, finally dragging his gaze to meet Maria's. She frowned and shook her head.

"No, she called in sick," Maria said, watching him carefully. "Joel, what's going on with you two? People are saying stuff about you and her husband, and-"

"She's sick?" Joel repeated, panic beginning to bubble to the surface. Maria nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah, people get sick, Joel. Hey! Where are you going?"

Joel didn't reply, he just hurried out the doors, nearly knocking down a middle aged couple as they were about to walk inside. He mumbled an apology as he jogged down the street towards your place.

Something was wrong.

Your eye cracked open when you heard the doorbell, the heavy thudding in your head making you immediately nauseous. You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut, rolling back under the covers. Maybe if you were quiet, Patrick would think you were at work and he would leave. But the bell kept ringing, the sound pinging around in your brain making the headache you already had so much worse.

When he began pounding on the door and shouting from the street, you dragged yourself out of bed and wrapped yourself in a thin robe. You knew your body couldn't take much more, but letting him in would be better than allowing him to make a scene in front of the whole town, so you forced your feet forward, still limping from the day before.

You had to pause in the doorway to catch your breath as you clutched your side, wincing in pain as you tried to gingerly walk down the steps, but you were taking too long and he just kept pounding and shouting and the all noise was making you sick.

"Stop," you called out weakly, not convinced he would even hear you, but miraculously he did because the noise finally ceased, and you sighed a small breath of relief.

Shakily, you reached out to grip the doorknob, your fingers fumbling with the locks until you finally managed to twist the brass handle, opening the door just a sliver, worried people walking by would see your face. Then, unexpectedly, you heard Joel's voice instead of Patrick's say your name softly and before you could peer around the door, you went to quickly shut it with no success. His hand gripped the door tightly, but you held firm, hiding behind the wood.

"You shouldn't be here," you told him, your voice weak and broken.

"I know you're mad at me but I gotta talk to you 'bout what happened," he said from the other side. "Please let me in."

Unbeknownst to you both, you were talking about two different things.

"If he finds you here... no, you have to leave," you said, pushing the door again, but he didn't budge.

"Patrick?" he questioned, sounding confused.

"Yes, Patrick," you rasped, getting dizzy from exerting so much energy in your weakened state. "Please just go."

"He's in jail, did - no one told you?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice down.

"Jail?" you repeated, and your grip on the door loosened in surprise. Joel felt it and took the opportunity to open it further. You stepped back quickly, wrapping the robe around you tighter and trying to fidget with your hair to hide the marks, but you knew it was pointless the moment you saw his face after closing the door behind him.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, his jaw dropping as his eyes slowly raked over your face, neck and arms. Your lip was swollen and cut, the scab breaking open and beginning to weep the more you spoke. Your cheekbone had a light purple bruise blooming under your skin, as did your jaw. There was a small gash near your hairline and what looked like scratch marks down your neck, leading past your collar bone and below your robe. When you shakily brought your hands up to cover your face in shame, he saw the dark bruises on your wrists.

"Oh my god," he whispered, unable to bring his voice any louder. When he reached out, you flinched away and he felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.

"You should go," you said quietly, your eyes pinned to the ground.

"I can't," he said in utter disbelief. "I can't... why didn't you call me?"

You looked like you were about to reply but decided against it and instead still kept your gaze averted.

"C'mon, lemme take you upstairs and get a look at you," he said, reaching out again, but you stumbled backwards, nearly falling onto the steps.

"Please don't touch me," you told him, holding up a hand, and he nodded.

"Okay, I won't touch you," he said, trying to remain calm while his heart was breaking. "Let's just go upstairs, alright?"

Reluctantly, you agreed and slowly ascended the steps, Joel following dutifully behind. He ushered you over to the couch, making sure you were seated before he went to your bathroom, rummaging around in your medicine cabinet while you sat there, your face buried in your palms and trying not to cry.

He came back into the living room, trying not to make you feel worse by hiding his reaction, but it was hard. He swallowed and dropped his eyes to the assortment of first aid items in his hands.

"Did you take anything for the pain?" he asked, his voice thick, his throat tight.

"Not today, no," you admitted softly. He nodded and shook out two white pills from a bottle and handed them to you before getting you some water. While safely in the kitchen where you couldn't see him, he let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down. How could this happen? How didn't he see it? He should have checked on you earlier. He never should have fucking let you leave with Patrick yesterday. Guilt racked his brain as he exhaled slowly and went back to you in the living room.

"Here," he said, handing you the bottle of water. You took it and popped the pills in your mouth, wincing as you swallowed them down.

He sat down on the couch next to you but was sure to give you your space as he picked up the antiseptic and some gauze.

"Will you let me?" he asked, holding up the items in his hand. You paused and looked at them, then him. His eyes were wide and soft and shiny with unshed tears. Slowly, you nodded and watched as he twisted off the cap and put some of the antiseptic on the gauze, first pressing it gently against the gash on your forehead, then making a fresh one for your lip.

At first, he dabbed at the cut gently, ghosting over your skin as if he were afraid. But then he brought his other hand up to caress your chin, his fingers feather-like and so careful that it made your eyes flutter shut, his touch unlike anything you were used to. When you finally opened your eyes again, his hands were gone and he was staring at you, the look in his eyes morphing from sadness to one you were much more familiar with.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him," he said menacingly, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Don't," you said, shaking your head, but his eyes darkened and his jaw was set.

"Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I could've done somethin'. I could've-"

"What? What could you have done, Joel? I've heard it all before," you told him, your lip trembling. "I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. And it never works. Nothing ever changes and it just gets worse."

Joel shook his head, still not understanding.

"I'm a cop, I coulda protected you. There's laws in place for this kinda thing."

"I've gone to the cops, Joel! More than once! And they all told me the same shit!" you exclaimed, getting worked up now. "Then I go home, and magically my statement goes missing, or my medical exam report, and I'm in worse shape than before because guess what? It makes him really fucking mad when his buddies on the force find out what he does to his wife at home."

Joel's lips parted as he watched your chest heave for breath, the energy quickly draining from your frail body.

"I... I'm so sorry," was all he could say. He couldn't blame you for not trusting anyone, especially him, now that he finally knew the truth. Everything was starting to make sense. His guilt was pulling him down and he felt like he was drowning in it. So many things he should have done. Should have seen. He should have helped you but instead he trotted Nikki in front of you to make you feel even worse.

"I can really help you, though. I ain't like that," he said, scooting a little closer to you.

"I've heard that before, too," you said sadly, dropping your gaze to the ground. "There's no getting out of this. I thought by running I could try to start over, but it's clear now he will never let me go." You closed your eyes as two tears fell down your cheeks. You wiped them away angrily, hating yourself for being so weak all the time.

Joel felt his chest squeeze, his heart breaking as he watched you fall apart. He needed to do something. He couldn't let you down. You needed to get out of this, or else it could cost you your life.

"Look at me," he said, waiting until your tears slowed and you forced your eyes open. "I promise I'll help you. I fuckin' promise you, alright? You ain't in Pennsylvania, I ain't his buddy, and I will do whatever I gotta do to keep you safe."

You searched his face, eyes all wide and your heart sliced open, lying on the table between you. You've been let down so many times, it was so hard to tell when anyone was being truthful anymore, but you couldn't deny what you felt for him. And what he felt for you. You knew something was there, something real and honest and pure. He wouldn't have any reason to lie to you at this point, so after a moment, you nodded.

"Okay," you whispered, and you could see the relief flood his face.

He sat back on the couch and rubbed his chin in thought, staring at the TV screen across from him that wasn't even on while the gears in his tired head worked overtime.

"Alright," he finally said, slapping his knees and standing up from the couch. "First things first: you gotta get to a doctor."

You immediately recoiled and shook your head.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry, but you have to. I gotta..." he trailed off and chewed the inside of his cheek before pushing onward. "I gotta have a doctor take pictures."

Your face instantly crumpled and you buried your face in your hands once again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time, getting down on one knee to be eye level with you. "But in order for this to work, they gotta record evidence, okay?"

"Joel, I can't," you whimpered, your face still covered, but he nodded and caressed the side of your head with his palm.

"Yes, you can. I'll be right there, okay? Unless you don't want me there, but I'll go with you if you want. Or I'll wait outside the door. Whatever you need, I'll do it. I'm gonna get you outta this."

You sniffled and finally dropped your hands to your lap, your gaze finding his.

"This is the last time, I promise you," he said, staring deep into your eyes. "I'll never let him near you again."

You thought his words over for a moment, the two of you sitting in silence, looking at the other. One trying to earn trust, the other trying to give it. Finally, you closed your eyes and nodded, giving your consent for what was to come.

"Okay," Joel said softly, dropping his hand from your face and standing up to pull out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm lookin' up the number of a doctor I trust. She's a woman, too. She's real nice and sensitive. I've used her for a couple cases in the past," he said, finding the number and dialing it, bringing the phone up to his ear. Cases. You couldn't help but feel like just another victim the way he said it, even though he didn't mean it that way. You listened as he spoke to her over the phone in a hushed tone, not giving too much of your information away but insisting it was an urgent matter. When he hung up, he turned to you with a weak smile.

"She can see you this afternoon."

"Oh," you said, glancing down at your appearance. You weren't expecting to leave the house that day and you weren't sure what to do.

"It's okay," he said, sitting down next to you again and resting his hand on your knee. "I'll take you through the backdoor of her office, no one'll see you. She'll be fast."

You nodded and looked up at him.

"Maybe I should shower," you said. He paused and shifted his gaze away.

"You, uh," he cleared his throat and rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers. He knew this would come up, one way or another. "I don't mean to get into too much detail, but if he..." Joel trailed off, finding it difficult to finish his sentence. "If he did more than hit you, you shouldn't shower," he finally choked out, unable to look you in the eye.

You froze, finally understanding what he meant. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, his neck tensing, his nostrils flaring, as he waited for your response.

"I won't shower, then," you finally said, your voice strained.

His eyes slid shut and he dropped his chin to his chest. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he tried to steady his breathing.

"I'll just go change," you mumbled, standing up while he nodded, still trying to breathe.

He did his best to collect himself while you were out of the room, but he could feel himself spiraling. What was he doing when it happened? Was he watching a movie with Sarah? Was he eating dinner? Was he getting ready for his fucking date with Nikki?

He could feel the tears welling up but he quickly wiped them away. You needed him to be strong. You needed someone to help you, to take care of you. He couldn't afford to be weak right now. He would let himself feel it later, when he was all alone at home and Sarah was asleep. When nobody needed him and he could just let the guilt and shame and sorrow wash over him.

"Jesus, Joel," Carol muttered as she left the exam room. Joel jumped up from his seat, anxiously waiting for it to be over. He rubbed his palms against his pants, trying to wipe the sweat away. She sighed and looked up at him, taking off her glasses.

"So?"

"So?" she repeated, shaking her head. "So, I have your evidence."

Joel nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"She's been through a lot," Carol said softly, walking him down to her office for privacy. She closed the door but he didn't sit down.

"She's gonna be lookin' for me," he explained, jutting his thumb over his shoulder.

"I'll be quick," she said, sitting down at her desk with a sigh. "There was significant scarring and healed bones, detailing years of abuse, and definitely evidence of some most recently."

"Yeah, I imagine anyone can see that by just lookin' at her face," he replied, but she shook her head.

"I didn't mean her face."

Joel felt his breath get caught in his throat.

"Right," he finally said, his voice cracking.

"She said her husband is a cop?" Carol asked, flipping open a yellow file on her desk. Joel nodded.

"Got him in lockup right now for swingin' on me at Hank's," he explained.

Carol's eyes glanced up at his and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I heard something about that," she said, lacing her fingers together and looking at him closely. "Can I give you some advice, Joel?"

He shifted his weight, not sure where she was going with it, but nodded anyway.

"Don't take her statement yourself. Have someone else do it, alright?"

"Why?" he asked quickly, and she gave him a knowing look.

"Because it'll be gruesome, and you're too involved."

Joel frowned.

"Too-"

"Don't care what you've got going on with her, I'm just giving you some friendly advice. Let someone else do it," she said, her eyes softening. "Besides, you got into it with her husband last night. You don't want some hot shot lawyer tossing out her testimony in court because he can link together some personal relationship between you two."

Joel considered her words for a moment and reluctantly nodded. She was right. He was having a hard time keeping things separate, and he appreciated the clarity. He couldn't fuck this up for you. Not now.

"Anythin' else?"

She leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

"You'll have my report in the morning," she said. He nodded, thanking her again for seeing you on such short notice before exiting the room. He turned the corner just as you were opening the exam room door clutching a worn hoodie around yourself and looking around frantically before your eyes fell on him and you visibly relaxed.

"Hey, sorry. You alright?" he asked, his hands gently coming up to your shoulders to guide you towards the back exit. You gulped and nodded.

"Wasn't so bad," you said.

"Good. You did the right thing," he said as he held open the door for you and led you back to his truck.

Once you were comfortably seated and Joel merged back into traffic, you shot him a sideways glance and asked him the question that had been weighing on your mind since he came over that morning.

"Joel?"

"Hm?" he said, twisting his head to the side to change lanes.

"Why is Patrick in jail?"

Joel's grip on the steering wheel tightened and there was an uncomfortable pause before he sighed.

"He came at me last night. We happened to both be at a bar at the same time, he was drunk and swung on me."

"What?!" you exclaimed, twisting around in your seat to look at him.

"I thought you knew since he didn't come home last night. Thought you were avoidin' me by callin' off work," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"No, I had no idea. He hasn't been staying at my apartment, he has a motel room somewhere," you said, peering at his face, then dropping your gaze to his hands where you could see now his knuckles were a little red.

"Are you okay?" you asked after a beat, and he scoffed.

"Am I okay?" he repeated with a shake of his head. He looked at you in shock, the corner of his mouth turning up into a half smirk. "I'm fine. Can't believe you'd be worried 'bout me after what you went through."

"Of course I worry about you," you said softly, and he felt his heart melt. Why did you have to be so sweet? After everything you've been through, after everyone in your life has let you down, you were still so fucking sweet.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn't. He couldn't put that kind of stress on you. It would be selfish to tell you how much he thinks about you, how much he wished you were his, how he hasn't been able to get you out of his head since the moment he laid eyes on you. No, that would be wrong. It wasn't the right time, so he swallowed the words back from the tip of his tongue and focused on the road.

"What's next?" you asked him as he walked you up to your front door. Mercifully, the weather was threatening to downpour so the streets were quiet.

"Well, next you'll have to come down to the station and give your statement so we can formally press additional charges," he said, knowing you wouldn't want to hear it but he was surprised when you simply nodded your head.

"Okay. When?"

"Tomorrow?" he offered, and you nodded again as you unlocked your door.

"I'll have to call off work or come by after," you told him, stepping inside and turning to look at him.

"Listen, 'bout that," Joel began, and you frowned. "I gotta tell Tommy."

"No!" you cried, your eyes going wide with worry, but he shushed you and shook his head.

"I gotta tell him so he can keep an eye on things, alright? I won't be able to keep him in lockup for much longer and I can't be with you all the time to protect you, d'you understand?"

"Joel..." you whimpered, burying your face in your hands. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling you into his arms. He fucking hated seeing you like this.

"We can file a restraining order tomorrow but a piece of paper won't necessarily keep him away, and I can't risk it," Joel explained, his heart breaking for you.

"Okay," you sniffled, finally coming to terms with it. If you were going to do this, you had to trust him.

"Okay," Joel repeated. "Tommy served in the Army, he knows what he's doin', I promise. I'll tell him to keep it quiet, alright?"

"Yeah," you whispered, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand.

"And no more walkin' back from work in the dark. Take your car or get a ride. If I can, I'll drive you - " Joel pulled out his phone to look at his calendar, but you stopped him.

"I can manage, but thank you."

You looked at one another for a moment, both of you unsure what else to say. You were thankful for what he was doing but you weren't sure you had the words to properly express your gratitude. Everything you wanted to say felt so small, so insignificant. So instead of attempting to cobble together some sentence that wouldn't do your feelings justice, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face against his warm chest. He quickly brought his arms up around you in return, gently placing his hands on your head and back as he held you carefully against him, as if he was worried you would break. He was absolutely certain you could feel how hard his heart was thumping in his chest, but he didn't care. He just wanted to feel you, to hold you, to keep you safe.

"It's gonna be okay," he told you, his voice heavy, and he felt you nod against him before pulling back, his chest suddenly feeling so empty.

"Thank you," you whispered, then spared him one more glance before heading inside, the door clicking shut softly behind you.

Later that evening, after you had forced yourself to eat some soup and drink some water, you were settling in on your couch when you heard a soft knock at your door. You muted your TV and strained your ears to listen. It didn't sound like a familiar knock, not one filled with anger or urgency. You glanced down at your phone, wondering if Joel had sent you a text that you missed, but nothing was there.

Hesitantly, you made your way down the steps. Your fingers brushed the doorknob, but before you opened it, you spoke through the door.

"Who's there?"

"It's me," Maria's voice drifted through the wood, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You unlocked the door and met her eyes. She tried to hold back the wince upon seeing your face, but you still caught it.

"Heard you might need some help," she said, holding up a small plastic bag. You frowned, confused, until she tilted it open for you to look inside. There, you found a variety of makeup bottles and powders in shades that looked pretty close to your skin tone.

You opened the door and let her in. You could tell you were able to take the stairs a little quicker than the morning, and you hoped that meant you were healing because you really couldn't afford to miss more time at work.

"Cute place," she said, glancing around before following you into your living room.

"Thanks," you murmured, turning the volume back on the TV as she settled into the couch next to you.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, motioning towards the bag. "Joel called and told Tommy what happened... I'm so sorry, I wish you would've called us, we could've helped you."

"Thanks," you said with a shrug. "I guess I'm just used to dealing with it on my own."

"Well if you're ever scared of staying alone, we have a spare bedroom, so please don't hesitate to ask."

You gave her a small smile, hoping she could tell how grateful you were. With the exception of one cousin back home, nobody had tried to stand up for you before. Not even your own parents. The whole concept was so foreign to you, you weren't sure how to respond.

Maria seemed to sense this and she changed the subject, leaning forward to sift through the contents of the drugstore bag, pulling out item after item and holding it up against your arm to decide which shade would work best. She spent the next hour helping you cover your cuts and bruises, and by the time you were done, you didn't look half bad.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she packed up her things and shoved her sneakers back on.

"A little less sore," you admitted. "I should be able to work tomorrow."

"Why don't you take one more day? Joel said you're going down to the station tomorrow, it might take more out of you than you expect."

You thought it over for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. Money was a concern, but you could wait one more day, and maybe you could pick up an extra shift over the weekend.

You thanked her as she headed down the steps and she reminded you again to call her and Tommy if you ever needed anything, and you promised you would.

When you were finally on your own again, you sat in silence, thinking about these people who barely knew you, who you essentially lied to, banding together to help you out. It was unlike anything you were used to, and you were beginning to think you may have finally found your home.

The next morning, you paced around your living room, anxiously nibbling at your nails as you waited for Joel to ring the bell. He had insisted on picking you up. He said he could swing by after he dropped Sarah off at school, that it wouldn't be a problem and he passed by your apartment anyway. You didn't understand why he was so insistent: the walk was less than ten minutes, but you didn't feel like arguing.

You were checking your makeup job in the mirror for the fifth time when the bell rang. With a deep sigh, you pulled on your sneakers, slung your purse over your shoulder and headed down the steps. When you opened the door, he was standing with his back to you under a brown blazer and his arms crossed, trying to appear casual for anybody who might be walking by, but when he heard you step through the door he swiveled around quickly.

"Good morning," you said to him with a small smile after you were sure the door was locked tight.

"Mornin'. You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," you said as he led you to his truck parked a little ways down the street.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know," you said again, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

"I know," was all he said before opening the passenger door for you and giving you a hand to step up into the cab.

The quick ride to the station was quiet, only the hum from his radio filling the air as your fingers fidgeted in your lap. When he parked the truck and you made a move to open the door, he held a hand out.

"Wait a minute, I gotta talk to you before we go in there."

You dropped your hand to your lap and looked at him expectantly.

"I can't take your statement today, I'm gonna have another officer do it," he said, his words rushed like he knew you wouldn't take the news well. And you didn't.

"What?!" you cried out softly, anxiety already creeping up and squeezing your chest.

"I'm sorry, I can't," he said, taking a deep breath and glancing out the windshield before looking back at you. "There's a conflict of interest. Patrick assaulted me, and if I go and take your statement, it won't look good to a judge."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"It'll be okay. I'll be right there the whole time. Right on the other side of the glass, okay? I promise, I won't leave."

He watched you for a minute, waiting for you to say something, and when you didn't he began to question himself.

"Unless you don't want me to hear, I don't have to-"

"No, I'd prefer you be there," you said quickly.

He nodded and took a deep breath in.

"I asked a female officer to do it. Her name's Beth. She's real nice, she's dealt with... situations like this in the past."

"Okay," you said softly, reaching for the handle, but once again he stopped you.

"One more thing. I gotta cut him loose tomorrow."

You squeezed your eyes shut. You knew this would happen, but it didn't stop you from feeling the overwhelming sense of dread that crept up your spine.

"It'll be fine. I'll file the restraining order today. If he comes within fifty feet of you, he's goin' right back to jail, okay?" he said, his hand coming up to rest assuringly on your knee.

"Okay," you whispered, finally opening your eyes to look at him.

"You can do this. I know you can."

You had to hold back the tears that sprung up when his words hit your ears. Nobody has ever believed in you, listened to you, took care of you the way he did, and he hardly even knew you. People who have been in your life for years, your own family didn't encourage you the way Joel did. On one hand, it was depressing to realize it took this long for someone to give a shit, but on the other hand, you were so, so relieved someone finally did.

As Joel led you into the station, he kept his head held high, ignoring the glances shot your way and you did your best to do the same. You followed him towards the back, and you hesitated a brief moment before entering the interrogation room, pushing all the bad memories to the back of your mind and focusing on the present.

You needed to put an end to this, once and for all.

You were doing okay. It was half an hour into giving your statement to Beth, and Joel was right. She seemed very kind and patient, and you relaxed after speaking with her for just a few minutes. Or maybe it was because you knew Joel was just a few feet away, watching from the other side of the glass, just like he promised. Whatever it was, you were doing better than you expected.

You had gotten through the bullet points of your history with Patrick. You had detailed how you met after you graduated from high school, how he had just gotten back from basic training with the Marines and was applying to join the Philadelphia police department. You explained how at first, things were great. He was loving and kind, for the most part, but you had been inexperienced and didn't recognize the red flags when you saw them. Like when he got overly possessive at house parties, and especially so when he started drinking. At first, you had thought it was sweet, but then he started getting a little rough. You explained at the time, he would apologize the next day and promise not to do it again, but a few weeks later, he would inevitably go back on his word. The cycle repeated itself over and over for a year, until he proposed one night in front of your entire family, and you had felt pressured to say yes. You had hoped it was just nerves, that eventually you would be excited about marrying him, but it never came. He had rushed you into planning the ceremony and you were only engaged for a few short months. And again, you fooled yourself into thinking everything was just happening so fast, that it was so stressful planning a wedding and that one day, you would be happy.

You couldn't remember the argument that caused him to first hit you. To really hit you, enough to leave a nasty bruise, but you remembered the shock, and you remembered the pain and the fear. And once again, he had apologized the following day, and you forgave him. Because you were weak and scared and confused.

"Did anybody in your life notice?" Beth asked, her eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine concern.

"I hid it at first, but eventually, yes, people noticed," you admitted, fidgeting with the edge of your shirt.

"Did they offer to help you?"

"My cousin," you said, looking down at your hands. "She helped me... she helped me find a clinic so I wouldn't get pregnant."

"Did Patrick know you were on birth control?" Beth asked gently while scratching away with her pen on paper.

"No, I didn't think he would like that."

"Why not?"

"He's made comments to me in the past about wanting a big family, and I was afraid to tell him no. I was afraid he would hurt our children, too," you said, still staring down at your hands.

"Has he raped you?" Beth asked bluntly, and you visibly balked.

"Oh, um," you faltered, the word for whatever reason sending shockwaves through you. You knew the answer, but you just hated admitting it.

"Yes," you finally said, your voice cracking, so you cleared your throat and took a sip of water.

"I'm sorry," Beth said quietly, catching your gaze and giving you a sympathetic look. "I won't ask too much today, but you need to know if this goes to trial, a judge will ask for a lot more detail. You can get a lawyer and they will help walk you through it when the time comes." She reached out across the table to place her hand on top of yours, her thumb rubbing over your knuckles. You nodded, wordlessly telling her to keep going.

"When did it start?"

"Right after we got married, I think."

"How often?" she asked, pulling her hand back so she could focus on writing.

"A few times a week, I guess? I mean, I don't know what counts. A lot of the times I wouldn't be in the mood and he would pressure me, other times were more... deliberate." You swallowed and glanced quickly at the mirror behind Beth, suddenly regretting asking Joel to listen.

"Did you tell your parents?" Beth asked, glancing up at you.

"I told my mom, yes."

"And what did she say?"

"She told me it was a wife's duty to... be available to her husband. She didn't think it was rape." You spit the last word out like it was poison on your tongue. Beth winced but tried to hide it by looking down at her notes.

"And when would he hit you?"

"It varied. Most of the time it was when he was drunk or high. He promised me all the time he would get help, but he never stuck with it."

"Did you ever have to go to the hospital?"

"Yes. A few times. He's broken my arm twice, fractured my hip, and I've had a few concussions. On one occasion, he strangled me until I lost consciousness. I had to be admitted for a bruised trachea." You absentmindedly rubbed your arm and neck as you spoke, your fingers gliding over the old wounds.

"And you've gone to the police before?" she asked.

"Yes, a couple times, but -" you could feel your resolve breaking, and you bit your lower lip to keep it from trembling. "But he always did something to make it go away, and then he would get really mad. One time when I went to file a complaint, he had a cop friend of his lock me in a room just like this one for a whole day. To teach me a lesson." You twirled your finger around the sparse room, tears glistening in your eyes. "They didn't let me out, I couldn't use the bathroom, I didn't have anything to eat or drink. I was all alone."

You stopped talking and tucked your chin against your chest, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. You wiped a shaky palm against your cheek, drying the tears that fell before you looked back up.

"There were times he would be gone for two or three days at a time and come back, all strung out and crazy... those were the times, the times I went to the police, that I ended up in the hospital. So I stopped asking cops for help."

She nodded as she wrote, giving you a minute to collect yourself before her next question. You glanced up at the mirror again and wondered what Joel was thinking. Did he leave? Or was he still there? You almost hoped he had left. You were feeling too vulnerable as it was, but the thought of him looking at you with pity after this was over made your stomach turn.

"I've done this before," you said suddenly, pulling her attention off the page. "And it always ends up the same. Please tell me this will be different."

"It will be different," she said immediately, her jaw set. She put her pen down on her pad and laced her fingers together. "I'm so sorry the justice system as failed you so tremendously, but we will do everything we can for you now that you're here."

You nodded and wiped more of your tears away before she handed you a box of tissues from a small cabinet in the corner of the room. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you met her gaze once again.

"What else?"

"I think that's enough for today," she said, flipping the pages closed on her legal pad. "We got your doctor's report this morning, and combined with this statement we will start the process of formally pressing charges. After that, if he pleads not guilty, it will go before a judge. But let's take it one step at a time, okay?"

"Okay," you said quietly, gathering your purse and following her out of the room. Your eyes immediately drifted around the hallway and then the bullpen, searching for Joel, but he was nowhere to be found. You frowned as Beth led you towards the front lobby, prepared to walk home, when you heard his voice call your name just as you were opening the door.

"I'll take you home," he said. His face looked hardened and his eyes looked distant.

"You don't have to," you began, but he just shook his head and gingerly cupped your elbow, directing you out the door and into the parking lot.

The ride back was silent. He didn't even have the radio on. You glanced out your window nervously, trying not to read too much into it, but when he dropped you off with barely a comforting word or any acknowledgement of what you confessed, you were convinced your greatest fear had come true. Now that he knew it all, now that he finally heard the truth, he couldn't look at you the same.

You were glad Maria had the foresight to tell you to stay home that day. You were mentally exhausted. Rehashing everything and then Joel's reaction put you in an awful mood. By 4pm, after lounging around watching mindless television and checking your phone constantly for any sign of life from Joel, you decided to just make yourself an early dinner, take a shower and then go to bed early.

As you were stepping out of the shower, the water finally turned off and all of the day's makeup covering your wounds down the drain, you heard your doorbell ringing incessantly. Repeatedly. Urgently.

A jolt of dread shot down your spine, but you remembered Joel said Patrick wouldn't be let out until tomorrow. But what if he got out early? What if he made a phone call and Joel was forced to release him?

Wrapped in a robe, your hair dripping down and soaking the thin material, you jogged to the living room and checked your phone. Surely, if Patrick was released, Joel would have warned you, but you didn't have any missed calls or texts. Then the pounding on the door started, making you jump out of your skin.

Slowly, you crept down the stairs, your hand gripping the doorknob tightly, your fingers hovering over the lock.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side, and your eyes widened in shock. You glanced down at your robe, little streaks and drops of wetness trailing down the shiny material.

"Uh, can you -"

"Please open up, people are startin' to look at me like I'm crazy."

With a sigh, you unlocked the door and stepped back, clutching your robe tightly against your chest. Joel squeezed inside and shut the door quickly behind him before turning around, his eyes raking quickly up and down your body before looking you in the eye.

"You were in the shower."

"Yeah," you said, glancing around anxiously before looking up the stairs. "Did you want to come up or something?" He just nodded slowly, his eyes flitting down once again as you led him up the steps.

"I got worried, I was ringin' the bell but I guess you couldn't hear it," he explained, taking off his shoes and shrugging off his blazer.

"What were you worried about? He's still in jail, right?" you asked, handing him some water before sitting down on the couch.

"Yeah, I just... I shouldn'tve left you alone earlier. I shoulda stayed." He stood there, a glass of water in his hand, the other rubbing over his mouth nervously.

You stared at one another for a moment, both trying to figure the other one out. He was breathing faster than normal, his chest rising and falling rapidly under his white button down shirt.

"Why are you here, Joel?" you finally asked, your heart starting to beat faster. "Because if it's out of pity, I don't want it."

"It's not -" he cut himself off and shifted his weight before setting the water down. "It's not pity." He took two steps and sunk down into your couch, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, trying to figure out what to say.

"It's not fair," he finally said quietly. So quietly, you almost didn't hear him. "Everything that's happened. It's not fuckin' fair."

You scrunched your nose, confused, as you looked at him still staring down at the floor. You were about to open your mouth and ask him what he meant when he spoke again.

"I never shoulda let you leave with him that day. Somethin' felt off, I felt it in my gut-" he sat back to press his hand against his stomach for emphasis. "But I let you go. And he -"

He couldn't finish his sentence, his throat closing up as he fought to blink the tears away.

"It's not your fault, Joel," you told him, resting a hand on his broad shoulder but he stood up quickly to pace around the room.

"I'll never let it happen again," he muttered. "Never gonna let him near you again. I'll fuckin' kill him if I have to, he's never comin' here again." His voice was rising as he spoke, his breath coming in short stutters as he rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers, eyes wide and crazed as the panic seized him.

So it wasn't pity. It was guilt that brought him to you.

"Joel, calm down," you said, standing up to reach out to him, but he kept pacing.

"Oh fuck, I'm never gonna forgive myself," he whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You didn't do this to me, he did," you assured him, trying to get him to stop moving. "You're helping me, Joel. You're the only one who ever really tried to help me. There's nothing to forgive."

He finally paused and glanced at you, his breath a little shallow as the panic began to subside.

"I'm gonna get you outta this, I promise," he said, his voice sounding more steady.

"I know," you replied, nodding your head.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and tore his eyes away from you to glance at his watch.

"I better go," he said regrettably, looking back up at you again.

"Okay," you said, following him to the door and leaning against the wall as he put his shoes back on.

"D'you need anythin'? Did you eat? I can -"

"I ate, I'm fine," you told him with a small smile. "Thank you, though."

"Alright," he said after a moment, then forced himself to open the door. Before he stepped through, he looked back at you over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm working dinner tomorrow," you told him, suddenly feeling crestfallen you wouldn't see him for lunch.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he repeated, more firm this time. You slowly nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping he couldn't see through your robe.

You listened sadly as his heavy footsteps descended the stairs and the door shut softly behind him. You knew him well enough at this point that he would have turned the lock on the knob before he left but you still wanted to peek down the steps to check. Your eyes widened when, to your surprise, he was still standing there at the bottom of your stairs, his back leaning up against the door. His eyes flicked up to meet yours when he noticed movement, and you saw Adam’s apple bob in his throat before he spoke.

"I can't leave."

You looked at one another for a long moment, your heart slamming in your chest, knowing what this meant. You were sick and tired of always trying to do the right thing. Where did it get you? How could you even fool yourself into thinking you had any obligation to Patrick anymore? Joel knew everything now. He knew what he was doing, so you said the words that were on the tip of your tongue. The words that you knew would open the door for something both of you wanted so desperately, you could taste it.

"Then stay."

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm@scp116@tragerlover@iveseenstrangerthings50 @yvonneeeee @brittmb115@lulawantmula@abbysgirlll@ro-nahime-things

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #sheriff!joel #STR fic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal

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pancake-breakfast · 9 months

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I think chapter 2 of TriMax Volume 6 might just be my favorite thus far. Everything in it hinges on this one iconic scene.

This isn't the first time Wolfwood has pointed a gun at Vash's head. Maybe it won't even be the last. But it holds a bit more weight here because just a few pages ago, we saw a flashback where Wolfwood pointed his gun at someone else's head.

His hand shakes as he aims at Knives. His breath is heavy, and the memory of the Fifth Moon incident is fresh in his mind. He knows if he can just pull the trigger, he can end it here. This being of destruction will be gone, and maybe this time his fancy scientists won't be able to bring him back.

But then Knives does Plant things, and under the weight of it Wolfwood finds he just can't follow through. He fears his own death too much, and Knives will surely kill him.

When he points his gun at Vash, it's different. His hand is steady, his breath calm. The memory of everything that happened at the Dragon's Nest is fresh in his mind; just this morning he warned Meryl that she and Milly should remember that, despite his ideals, Vash is still a loose cannon that they'd do well to avoid. He thinks to himself that if he can just pull the trigger, if he can just take out the less intimidating of the brothers, then one of these monstrous twins and half of the problem will be gone.

This time, there's no crushing sensation of oppression. There's no air of fear and malice. There are no threats or memories of twisted promises. There's only a look, wary and concerned...

...but even by the time this happens, Wolfwood has already lowered his gun. He's decided not to pull the trigger, not because of an immediate threat on his life, but because... well, it's Vash.

Wolfwood surely knows that if he pulls that trigger, he catastrophically fails his mission, and whatever consequences might await him on the far side of such a failure aren't going to be anywhere near pleasant. But it doesn't seem like it's fear of Knives that makes him lower his gun. At the very, very least, Wolfwood knows no one stands a better chance at taking down Knives, but he also knows Vash. He's seen Vash's fake smiles and knows his real ones. He understands Vash's ideals despite very much not wanting to and not knowing how he could possibly accept them for himself. He's fought side by side with Vash, and been standing at his back since day 1.

And before this night is out, only a few minutes after pulling a gun on Vash, Wolfwood's right back there again, moving in tandem with Vash, being a human shield so they can accomplish Vash's goals together.

It's only when the fight comes to a close that Wolfwood realizes that's what he's been doing. He didn't put any thought into falling in step behind Vash, didn't dwell on the fact that Vash trusted and moved with him during the fight. It's only afterwards, when they stop to catch their breath, that he realizes Vash hasn't looked his way through the whole battle. That Vash didn't need to look his way through the whole battle.

Not only did Vash trust Wolfwood at his back, but he knows Wolfwood well enough to move intuitively around him, not hesitating and always understanding what Wolfwood's about to do. And at that moment, Wolfwood realizes two things:

First, that there's no way Vash didn't notice when Wolfwood pointed a gun at him. If Knives could figure it out while half dead and barely knowing Wolfwood, then Vash, who's awake, alert, and has spent plenty of time with Wolfwood, can surely figure it out.

And second, that when he's fighting back to back with Vash, nothing else really matters. All his (quite legitimate) fears about what Vash is and how dangerous he can be, about Knives, about finishing his job, about what he himself has become... they all melt away. He's where he needs to be, where he should be, and that's all there is to it.

#vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #vashwood #(you don't have to ship them to see the connection between them here)#trigunbookclub #trigun maximum #volume 6 #manga spoilers #manga analysis #character analysis #pancake thoughts

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deantfwinchester · 2 months

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Late Nights

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, back on my Joel x Teacher!Reader shit (though her work hardly plays a role in this), established relationship

Summary: Getting home late is an unfortunately common occurrence in Joel’s line of work. When you both have busy days, it can be hard to find time to share, but you make do.

Warnings: extreme fluff, just utterly fucking saccharine at this point, is fluff without plot a tag?

——————

It’s Wednesday night. Joel’s night to cook dinner.

You get home earlier every day, no question. But since you like to take most every night during the summer months, he insisted on a 60/40 split during the school year. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays are his. You had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday & Saturday are mainly for pizza, take out, or date-nights.

When he’d grill on Sunday afternoons, you liked to try and help him with prep, but he’d just pour you a glass of wine or mix you a drink and try to usher you out of the kitchen. You’d always sit and talk with him while he worked anyway. Sarah too, when she wasn’t working on homework or out with friends. It’s one of his favorite parts of the week.

On the nights he’d come home late, though, he always worried about leaving you to it. He was meant to be home cooking for the three of you while you relaxed, tried to let the stress of the school day roll off your back. He loved giving you that time.

This particular night, when six o’clock rolled around and he realized he still had a good hour or more on the site, he knew he needed to let you know he wouldn’t be timely with his return. Didn’t want you to worry.

You’re on the couch, grading. By this time of night, Joel’s normally taken the work from your hands and pulled your attention toward anything else. Noticing the room darkening, you wonder where he is, just as your phone dings:

Wednesday, October 7, 6:03 PM:

Sorry baby, gonna be later than I hoped tonight. Y’all don’t wait on me, okay?

Supposed to be my night too, dammit. I apologize, sweetheart.

You’d told him till you were blue in the face he didn’t need to apologize to you when he was the one having to work until long after dark. It never took.

You responded quickly, knowing his phone would be back in his pocket and forgotten again soon when his attention turned again to the work and his team.

Wednesday, October 7, 6:04 PM: (Outgoing)

Dont worry about it, sweetie. i promise i can handle dinner, just don’t work too hard and get home when you can ❤️

And take a break and drink some water, will ya? if that bottle ain’t empty yet, you haven’t had enough! see you soon, love.

He’d be dead on his feet when he walked through the door, that much you knew. And he’d have no business rifling around in the kitchen for something random he’d throw together, not substantial enough by far for a day of working like he’d been. You hopped up and started to the kitchen, determined to make a hearty meal for you and Sarah to share now, and to ensure Joel had a real meal when he finally made it home for the night.

————

A couple of hours had passed by the time Joel finally walked through the door. You’re back on the couch, this time reading a book while the lights from the tv danced softly in the dimly lit room, with a bare haze of sound playing at low volume.

It was nearly 8:30 when you heard the key turning in the door. Sarah had retired to her room for the night after dinner. She’d tried to help you clean the dishes, but you’d ushered her off to relax after spending most of the afternoon doing homework.

Joel trudges wearily through the door, shoulders slouched and eyes heavy-lidded when he thinks you can’t see him. The second he lays eyes on you, though, his posture straightens and his expression brightens, eyes opening a bit more as he lifts into a smile. Your expression mirrors his, and you sit up, closing your book and rising to meet him halfway. You practically speak over each other in greeting:

“Hi darlin’, how was your day?” he says.

“Hey honey, how’d it go today?” you ask.

You laugh a bit when you realize you’re asking the same question on top of each other, and he pulls you close, arms resting heavily around your waist. You drape yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. When you pull away to look at his face, you see past the tired smile he wears to the exhaustion etched in his face, settled in his drooping eyes.

You move one hand up, fiddling gently with the strands of hair at the back of his head. You smile and put light pressure on the base of his neck with your other hand, moving his head down to rest on your shoulder. He catches on instantly, and settles comfortably where you direct him. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck and you feel his eyes close against your collarbone, his warm fatigued breaths rhythmically grazing your chest.

You continue playing with his hair with one hand, while the other remains resting on the back of his neck. You turn your head to place a soft kiss to his temple and, after a moment of restful silence, quietly speak:

“You’re tired, huh? I missed you today.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tightening his grip around your waist, and snuggling closer.

“You gotta be hungry. Got a plate waitin’ for ya in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?” you ask him, moving your hand down his neck to rub gently against his back. He breathes deeply in contentment at your comforting touch.

“No, I’m never leaving this spot. I live here now,” he says, and you feel the rumble of his voice against your chest. You chuckle lightly and speed up your ministrations, applying a bit more pressure as you discover the tightness of the muscles in his back.

“Mhm. And when was the last time you ate? Or drank anything for that matter?” you ask knowingly.

“Uhhhh, i guess it was, arou-“ he cuts himself off with a yawn, “around lunch time? Maybe one? Did finish that bottle like you asked, though,” and he smacks his lips lazily, somehow nuzzling further into your shoulder.

“Good, thank you. But lunch was seven hours ago now, so you need to eat something. Wanna start there? Or shower first?” you ask, chuckling a bit.

He raises his head a bit and squints at you, frowning playfully. “You sayin’ I smell, darlin’?” he mumbles, laughing into your shoulder.

You giggle in response before elaborating: “I’m saying you’re sweaty and would feel better if you rinsed the day off before crawling into bed.”

He sighs and rasps into your neck, “you changed the sheets didn’t you?” you feel a smile form against your chest.

“Sure did. So it’s food, shower, and bedtime. You can pick the order. Which first? Want me to grab your dinner?” you ask.

He sighs deeper this time, “What’s that thing about objects in motion and objects at rest or somethin’? Gonna keep doing whatever they already got goin’ on?”

You rumble a little laugh in return before responding. “I see. C’mon Newton, let’s keep ya moving. Go hop in the shower while I get your dinner ready.” You say, patting his cheek as he raises his head with a little groan.

You catch his eyes with your own and let your hand rest on his cheek. You move a thumb beneath his chin and pull him to you, giving him one last peck before ushering him down the hall. You pull his plate from the fridge and get to work on reheating his meal.

——————

He emerges less than ten minutes later smelling fresh and dressed in a clean t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, padding into the kitchen just as you’re filling a glass of water to place next to his warmed plate. He rubs a fist into one eye, yawning again, and plops into a chair at the kitchen table.

You approach behind him, placing the glass on the table with one hand and rubbing his shoulder with the other. He lifts a hand to grab yours and squeeze as he takes a sip. His eyes reach up to meet your own.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. It was my night anyway, and now you’ve cooked and even put the damn plate in front of me,” he huffs.

“You don’t need to thank me, love” you respond, leaning down to kiss him again before taking the seat next to him with the glass of wine you’d poured to sip while you sat with him. You reach for his left hand where it rests on the table, and gently squeeze. He wraps his fingers around yours before you can retreat. Your fingers remain intertwined for the duration of the meal.

The two of you discussed the highlights of your respective days - roses and thorns, both too sleepy to bother with buds. When Joel finishes, you grab his plate to wash, but he takes it from you.

“No way are you washing my dishes too, honey. You’ve done enough already tonight,” he tries to insist. You’re not having it.

“Will you just let me take care of you, dummy? You’re bone tired, I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Here. How about this?” you rinse the plate and utensils, shove them quickly in the dishwasher, close it emphatically, and raise your empty hands.

He rolls his eyes, but relents with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he responds smiling, a bit bashful from the care and compliment.

“Good. Now c’mon, bedtime.” you say, taking his hand in yours once again and leading him to the bedroom.

“Whatever you want, baby” he grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help bellow a hearty laugh at that one.

“Jesus, like you could keep your eyes open, Miller,” you respond, as you pull the covers back and lead him onto the bed next to you. You settle back against the headboard and open your arms up, beckoning him into your lap. He shuffles closer and leans into your embrace.

“It was-“ he pauses, only to finish through a yawn “- worth a shot.” You chuckle quietly as he rests his head in your lap, eyes instantly slipping closed.

You turn on the tv, keeping the volume low. It’s only a little after 9, so still early for you to fall asleep. You would read, but you’d rather turn off the light, hoping the dimness in the room helps him get some good rest.

You lay one hand on his back and the other in his hair, both softly rubbing in comforting circles, and you feel him melt further into you. A familiar warmth fills your chest at the sight of him there, resting peacefully in your lap. You lean down and press one last kiss to his head before whispering to him.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

“G’night, darlin’” he rumbles, muffled into your lap. You smile, one hand still on his back as the other reaches up, flicking off the lamp, before returning it to his hair. Your fingers gently massage his scalp, and within minutes, you hear his soft snores.

#call the fucking dentist bby #ur gonna get cavities fr #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo

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thelonelyempath · 1 year

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Smut Prompts III (NSFW)

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

1. “Don’t even think about cumming yet.”

2. “So I hear you’re into pain?”

3. “Your eyes always glaze over when you cum.”

4. “Don’t fucking stop, baby.”

5. “I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.”

6. “I wanna take you so fucking bad.”

7. “Be a good girl/boy and swallow for me.”

8. “You better keep the volume down or I’m gonna go even harder.”

9. “I’m feeling greedy.”

10. “Clothes. Off. Now.”

11. “You talk too much. How about we use your mouth for something else?”

12. “Your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner doesn’t need to know about this.”

13. “If you want to cum then you’re gonna have to beg.”

14. “If I have to pull over, you’ll be walking funny for the next week.”

15. “Could you be any wetter/harder?”

16. “Don’t worry. I’ve got condoms and lube in my nightstand.”

17. “What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?” “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to take a second to admire how beautiful you are.”

18. “I’m gonna stop if you don’t cum.”

19. “You better not touch yourself while I’m gone.”

20. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.”

21. “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

22. “I’ll be gentle, baby. Don’t worry.”

23. “Don’t stop. Even if I beg you to.”

24. “I never knew you liked being spanked.”

25. “You don’t realize what it does to me when we’re cuddling and you press your ass against me.”

26. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

27. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

28. “I love that we both already finished and your legs are still shaking.”

29. “First one to cum loses.”

30. “I bet I can make you cum without even touching you.”

31. “I don’t have to be inside you to make you cum.”

32. “I want to kiss every square inch of your body.”

33. “I called in sick. Now we can stay in bed and fuck all day.”

34. “Ride me like a cowboy/cowgirl.”

35. “Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?”

36. “Go get one of your toys. Let’s make this even better.”

37. “Are you gonna keep playing with it or are you gonna put it in your mouth at some point?”

38. “Quit eyefucking me and get over here so you can actually fuck me!”

39. “What the fuck? Do that again. I liked it.”

40. “Is that gonna fit?” “I’ll make it fit.”

41. “All day I’ve been thinking about how good it would feel to have your head between my legs.”

42. “Ever heard of an Australian kiss?” “No. What’s that?” “It’s like a French kiss, but down under.”

43. “But there’s people-” “I don’t care. Let them watch.”

44. “I saw you naked once. And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

45. “How are you so oblivious? I’m trying to tell you I’m fucking horny!”

#smut prompts #otp prompts #otp smut #otp smut prompts #writing prompts #prompts

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baileybeez · 1 month

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My Top Ten Favorite Bumbleby Moments (My Opinion Obviously)

10. All Fight Scenes

I know I'm technically cheating on this one but whenever these two fight, I know I'm in for a good time. And all of them have been superb. These two are in sync without even communicating with each other. They know each other's abilities and know how to work together well in combat.

9. We're Protecting Each Other

This was a 'you had to be there' moment. It was insane. Even knowing these two would eventually confront Adam, the way they did it blew my mind. I loved seeing these two stand up together to confront Adam and become each other's strength's. They had each other's backs in this moment and were going to do it together.

8. We Were There For Each Other

This moment lived in my head rent free for months after the episode came out. They held hands before this to comfort each other during stressful times. Like Blake reaching out to apologize to Yang when she lost her arm and Blake reaching out when Yang's hand started to shake because of Adam. But this time, Yang reached for Blake in a moment of peace. After everything that happened, she forgave Blake and accepted her after everything they went through together. And all she wanted to do was just hold her hand again.

7. Volume 8 Reunion

The amount of gushing I and many others did during this moment was crazy. We were starved for Bumbleby interactions in Volume 8, especially after Volume 7 did so many with them both. After 24 hours of craziness, the two are at peace once again. Blake at first is worried since they did separate missions Yang might be mad that they didn't work together. But all Yang did to reassure her was smile and the two touched foreheads and later embraced each other. It was such a sweet moment.

6. Date Night

Volume 7 had so many good little bee moments that were adorable and I'm a sucker for fluff. Blake getting her new hair and Yang struggling to compliment it, the selfie, Blake falling asleep on Yang's lap with Yang holding her etc. But the two going to a club and off handedly mentioning they're gonna ignore Team FNKI just to have their own fun. You two can just call it a date, we won't judge lol. With Yang trying to teach Blake how to dance and Blake struggling to learn while laughing. I love how whenever Yang cracks a joke, she looks at Blake because she wants to make sure she see's Blake laughing. Not to mention Nora's comments later in the episode.

"Blake and Yang are off doing they're own thing again."

"Friends huh? Just friends?"

"Two people who have gone through that much? I think there's more going on."

And I will forever be mad RT didn't show us them at their date.

5. The Burning Candle

Ya'll this was the spark that ignited the ship. Not only is the Burning Candle just a great episode but it's an amazing moment for Blake and Yang. We get to see these two open up and communicate their wants and desires. With Yang telling Blake about her past and trying to help Blake so she doesn't push herself too far. And then of course at the end Yang gives her that wink and says 'I'll save you a dance'. Then we later see the two dancing. It was also the first time we saw Blake laughing and happy and it was all because of Yang. Yang who just asked for a dance in return for helping Blake and opening up about her past. I was sold on this ship when this episode came out.

4. How Disarming ~

The gay in my brain would not stop buzzing at this moment. It's amazing seeing how much Blake was the one openly flirting and initiating playful touch. There's a great post by @wixhing0nastar going over Blake's body language throughout the volumes. How a lot of the times Blake is more closed off in her posture, like how she holds herself. But here, she's leaning into to Yang's space and just playfully nudging her. She's not holding back. Also I swear I could hear Blake purr when she said 'How disarming'. Like my breath got caught in my throat. And then when Weiss said 'About time'. I knew this volume had to be the one where they finally get together.

3. Volume 9 Reunion

This is my favorite reunion of Bumbleby. Especially since we had to wait for so long for these two to be reunited. Blake was distraught last volume as she failed to save Yang and thought Yang died in front of her. Yang who had always been there to help her and fight by her side. And the first thing Blake does when she gets a free chance is to tackle hug Yang and hug her tightly. Softly whispering Yang in both disbelief and joy. And Yang simply holds her to reassure her like she did in Volume 8. Honestly, if Weiss and Ruby weren't there they would have probably stayed like that for hours lol.

2. I'm Not Gonna Break My Promise

This used to be my favorite Bumbleby moment of all time and for good reason. Blake and Yang had killed Adam. The first thing Blake does is weep and fall to her knees. She's gone through so much and much of it had to do with him. Her torment of him is over and the person she once knew was dead. And Yang wordlessly just holds her and lets Blake cry. Blake finally gets out that she won't break her promise and swears it. Earlier Adam had mockingly told Yang that Blake made a promise to him once and that she didn't follow through with it. And even earlier in the volume Blake had promised to be there if they faced him. Yang has seen Blake stood by her words with her actions. And just reassures Blake she knows Blake won't break her promise. No more words are exchanged as the two just hold each other and Blake just cries more.

The Confession and Kiss

Was anyone really surprised? I know I wasn't. I loved the number 2 moment on my list so much. But I knew as soon as we got the confession and kiss scene it would more than likely take my top spot. It was all a matter of how it was executed and it was done spectacularly. There's many essays and write ups on why this scene was so good so I apologize if I don't add much to the conversation.

But Blake and Yang are stuck in a punderstorm and are trying to figure out how to get out. With them eventually figuring out they need to say things about each other they've never said before. At this point the two have only really said cute things to each other and then Blake comes out with.

'I think....you're an extraordinary person.'

Honest to god I was already getting emotional from just that as Blake goes in some more. Talking about how Yang does what she says, she brightens others around her and is always brave even when she's scared. The looks and the song Worthy playing in the background only add to how monumental this moment was for me. With Yang talking about how she liked how Blake wasn't intimidated by her even back when they didn't get along. She also talks about how Blake doesn't give up on people even when other people hurt her and she never gives up because she knows what matters to her. Blake has tried to help others and has sometimes failed but she has tried to push through despite labeling herself as a coward. But Yang see's a person always trying to do what's best for the people she loves.

Then we get this moment.

These are my favorite expressions of the whole scene. It's so wholesome, pure and full of love in every detail. At this point the two know what needs to be said but Yang is at first hesitant and the bridge between them widens. Blake asks if Yang thought of something then didn't say it and Yang is so bashful as she is realizing she needs to say those three words. But Yang is scared, she compares it to a cliff and if she goes through with it she'll fall. I've always headcannoed that Yang's greatest fear is letting those she loves down. And that ties into how she fell at Beacon and fell in Volume 8. It can also tie to her with the aftermath of Mercury and feeling she let her team down. She's scared she won't be good enough and will lose it all. It also similarly ties into her abandonment issues.

But Blake points out, they're already falling. Their emotions aren't going to go away just because they're scared. They're already worried for each other when they're fighting to save the world and two thought they were dead last volume. With Blake thinking Yang died and she failed to save her. So Blake encourages Yang gently by telling her to say it.

And after a heavy sigh, Yang confesses with Blake jumping in before she can finish as the two say I love you. The bridge that separated them is gone and they're together. They look at each other with blushing cheeks with Worthy playing in the background. They pull into each other, Blake slowly smiling as they get closer and kiss each other. White lilies sprout from under them as the while lily symbolizes rebirth and rejuvenation of the soul. The flowers are also used at weddings and can also mean purity. It's such a perfect flower to fit this perfect this scene.

And there you have it, my top ten Bumbleby moments. There were lots of moments to choose from and so many of the ones I love unfortunately didn't make it on this list. So here are some honorable mentions down below.

#bumbleby #rwby #sapphic #rwby bumbleby #rwby volume 9 #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #blake x yang #greenlight volume 10 #THIS IS ALL MY OPINION

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pippin-katz · 7 months

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6 More Little Faces Alex Makes That I Love - Part 2

(not ranked in any order)

No. 1:

I love the smile he does right before this, but I also love this. He gets a little emotional. You can see in the way his mouth moves and his nostrils flaring that it looks like he’s a little choked up.

You know when you’re not crying, but you can feel that throbbing sensation in your throat, and you know you might start crying if you’re not careful. You start swallowing a lot to try and keep it back.

That’s what I’m seeing here, and that’s super sweet because he loves Henry so much that he might cry.

No. 2:

Do you think he knows? Do you think he’s doing it on purpose?

That right there is the “lifts eyes” look. That right there is exactly what authors are picturing they write something like this:

Alex looked down at where the key sat against his chest. The cool metal was a stark contrast to Henry’s hand. Goosebumps spread across his skin, centered on where they were touching. Alex raised his eyes to meet Henry’s.

Like sir, can you not be a walking fictional character? You might as well have walked out of the book.

No. 3:

There is no other word for this but swooning. Again, might as well have walked off of a page with how perfect his physicality and expressions are.

No. 4:

This look right after Henry says they’re committed to each other is perfect. He stays neutral enough not to be rude, but you can see it in his eyes and his eyebrows how determined he is.

He’s looking at Philip here as well, who has been giving Alex rude looks since they sat down; his face particularly after he says “god no” to the question of reading the emails is borderline disgusted, and if you watch his eyes, he looks at Alex more than Henry.

Kudos to Philip’s actor for being able to subtly imply his layers of prejudice with as little screen time as he has.

Alex’s responding stare is like he’s challenging him. His eyes say, “if you have a problem with that, you’ll have to fight me over it, because I’d die before I’d let you take him from me.”

It’s obvious from the moment the king starts talking that Alex wants to speak up, but he knows this is Henry’s fight first. He holds himself back for as long as he can and lets Henry do the talking.

At this point, the king has already dismissed Henry’s request for support and right to be happy, so Alex is definitely pissed off, and then Philip is a dick; his patience is running out.

It’s amazing how a tiny change in facial features can speak volumes without saying a word.

No. 5:

This breaks my fucking heart every time I watch it.

His eyes are noticeably red from crying, which I have no idea how he did because he's not actually crying in this scene, so it wasn't from filming it over and over again. Maybe they filmed the Kensington Palace scene prior to this one, on the same day or something, cause he was crying in that one.

Anyway, this expression just kills me, because he's reached the crossroads. He can either keep waiting, not knowing if Henry will ever answer him, or he can go to London to get his answer.

And the idea that Henry may not see him and how that would be it, the true end to their relationship, fucking devastates him.

You can see it in his eyes and the deep breath he takes that he's imagining it. He's playing it out in his head, him going to London and being turned away, and having to go about living his life without Henry in it.

Just the idea of it is enough to break his heart, and it breaks my heart to look at.

No. 6:

I love and hate the way Alex's face slowly falls when Henry says he should leave. Think about this for a second.

They live on separate continents with an ocean in between them. Alex is the First Son, and Henry is a fucking prince. They were texting for months before they got to see each other for New Year's Eve, which was the only reason why Henry was able to go to the States. He's only in the States now for the dinner party being hosted for the Prime Minister. He's flying back to London tomorrow.

They have no idea when they'll see each other again.

Henry has the idea of inviting Alex to the polo match, so he might be a bit optimistic, which is probably why he was still smiling when he pulls away. He's thinking about it, and has been for at least a little bit, probably since after the Red Room encounter earlier that night.

But Alex?

He has no idea how long it will be until the next time they're able to see each other in person again. Henry texted Alex for the first time on August 27th, and they weren't able to see each other in person until New Year's Eve. That is four months.

Since they were just friends during that time, it probably was no big deal, but now? Now they're going to be constantly thinking about each other. Thinking about getting to hold each other again, getting to kiss each other again, getting to do more explicit things again- all of it.

And Alex doesn't know when he'll get to do any of it again once Henry leaves. He even goes to say, "I guess I'll see you-" when he and Henry start talking at the same time.

Henry inviting him to the polo match is a promise of getting to see him next month, so probably a week or two, depending how far into the current month they are. It's probably part of why he smiles so much when Henry leaves. He has something to look forward to.

But in this little moment, Alex probably feels so sad because he knows Henry has to leave, but he really, really doesn't want him to, because he's not just leaving for the night so they don't get caught in Alex's room together. Once he walks out that door, he doesn't get to see him for who knows how long.

Agh, okay, that's all for part 2! I'm not too sure if I can make a part 3, but we'll see!

part 1 | part 3

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont diaz #taylor zakhar perez #firstprince

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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6 to 1 | lando norris (part 2)

paring: lando norris x leclerlc!reader part 2 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

you're a bit of a flirt, the drivers understand that even if charles doesn't and recently you've been a little less careful about your interactions in the paddock. you'd think that would deter lando, but he's still committed to moving up your ranking, no matter what it takes

word count: 6.1k tags: established friendships, minor social media au aspects, poorly translated French

“What’s it going to take for you to love me?”

Lando practically forced you away from your brother and Carlos as you walked behind them. You were staring down at your phone and didn’t even see the McLaren driver headed your way so it was safe to say you were startled when he grabbed your wrist to pull you aside.

You pushed your sunglasses up to your head, “Excuse me?”

Lando sighed, as if having to repeat himself was such an inconvenience. “What’s it going to take for you to love me?”

At this point, Carlos and Charles had noticed you stopped following them and were making their way back to you. Carlos was amused at your interaction whereas Charles was uncertain. He couldn’t tell what Lando’s motives were or if they went beyond moving up your driver ranking.

You pretended to think about it for a second and Lando looked hopeful, as if there were genuine steps he could take to get you to like him more.

You counted on your fingers, “Be about four inches taller, for starters,” You held out a second finger, “Have darker features and…” a third finger, “Don’t be a Formula 1 driver.”

Lando wasn’t impressed with your answers, mostly because they didn’t help at all and you weren’t being the least bit serious. Instead of trying to get some real information out of you, he reacted like a child and yanked your sunglasses off your head before turning and running down the paddock.

You cupped your hands around your mouth to help with the volume of your voice, “This is why you’re fifth on my ranking!”

Carlos waited until you rejoined him and Charles before asking about the sudden change, “I thought he was sixth?”

“Oh, I mean-” you waved your hand outwards, “yeah he worked his way up, I guess. By default.”

“By default?” Charles asked. You weren’t making any sense, but you also weren’t about to explain why Lando was now fifth, nor did you know how to explain why Pierre had been dropped without coming clean about hooking up with him.

Your shoulders tensed, “Yeah, I-”

“Hold on,” Charles came to a sudden halt. He pulled his sunglasses off his face and looked back and forth between you and Carlos. Neither of you knew what he was doing, but you felt obligated to freeze until he opened his mouth again. “Is Carlos your ideal man?”

It took you a second to figure out how Charles came to that conclusion, but you did say to Lando if he was four inches taller and had dark features, you’d love him. Which practically described Carlos. The only thing was, Charles was missing an important detail.

“Carlos is a Formula 1 driver. I don't date drivers.” you pointed out, starting your walk to the garage again. Carlos moved at your pace, draping his arm over your shoulder as Charles tagged along behind you two.

“What if I wasn’t a driver?” Carlos asked, a playful smile on his lips.

You smacked his chest, “No.”

“No,” Charles repeated, much louder. “Y/N, I am going to take away your paddock access if you don’t stop flirting with the grid.”

You held up your hand and stuck up your middle finger, a beaming grin on your face knowing Charles was staring at it with betrayal. Carlos laughed, tugging you into his side as you continued walking, leaving Charles to mutter a string of complaints the entire way down the paddock.

“So Lando made it to your top five?” Carlos asked, reaching for a pair of Ferrari headphones to hand to you.

“Unfortunately.”

“And where am I on this list?”

You slid the bright red headset over your ears, rolling your eyes, “Bold of you to assume you’re in my top five.”

“Of course I am,” there was a glint in his eye as he walked you to the visitor booth at the back of the garage. He waited until you stepped up to lean against the barrier, crossing his arms over it as he looked up at you. “Charles is probably first, which means I am second, no?”

You didn’t confirm or deny where the Ferrari driver stood, deciding to just press your palm to his forehead to push him away from the booth. Carlos laughed and before he could gear up to get into his car, you wished him good luck for the qualifying session.

You caught that faint sliver of a smile he sent you before sliding his helmet on and it took most of your attention that you flinched when you noticed Charles standing next to you. As you placed your hand on your chest to steady your heart, you couldn’t help but notice his scowl.

“What is your problem?” You asked, dropping the headset to rest around your neck. You wanted Charles to know that he had all of your attention because clearly something was bothering him. And if he performed poorly during qualifying because of it, he’d blame you.

“I don’t like it,” his gaze was stuck on his teammate, watching as Carlos chatted with the employee assisting him with his helmet strap.

But you weren’t following. Your brother seemed to be referring to a made up scenario he came up with that involved yourself and Carlos and the thought alone made you laugh. As in, tip your head back and cackle so loud that people turned over their shoulders to see what sort of animal just wandered into the garage.

Even Carlos looked at you. Through his helmet and with his faint head tilt, you could tell he was wondering what was so funny. You did your best to get your humorous expression under control and turned back to Charles.

“I don’t actually like Carlos, you know that right?” He had to have known that. Charles made it clear time and time again that he would figure out a way to kick you out of the Leclerc family if you started dating a driver, hence why you were so on edge about Pierre running his mouth around the paddock.

“You flirt with him a lot,” was his only reasoning.

“I think you’re looking for a reason to be annoyed with me.”

“Well I mean-” Charles shrugged a shoulder, “I don’t know, Y/N, tone it down a bit, is all.”

“Just get in the car and focus on qualifying,” you pushed on his shoulder right as someone handed him his helmet.

Charles definitely looked like he had more he wanted to say, but now was not the time to get into it. You gave him a thumbs up before he turned around, making the smart decision to put his focus into the upcoming sessions than to worry about you.

A friend of yours sent you the twitter thread after qualifying had ended and you thought that replying to it would not only be funny, but put some rumours to rest.

You definitely did post Carlos a lot, but you were with him a lot. It was just something that happened.

But you had no idea how the photos of you and each of the drivers surfaced. You tried to be careful and not be outwardly flirtatious or cross any lines, even as a joke, in public, but it seemed like some fans were starting to get suspicious.

You stepped into the paddock, water bottle in your grasp, your hand acting as a shield from the rare Montreal sun seeing as everyone expected this weekend to be a wet one.

“You look like you could use some sunglasses.”

Lando’s little tease had you stopping in your tracks. Your arm fell to your side as you turned on your heels and watched as the McLaren driver pushed himself away from a flag pole to walk towards you. How long had he been standing there? His racing suit undone and hung horribly low on his hips as his black fireproof long sleeve clung to his body.

“Don’t you have media to do or something?” You pestered, eyeing your sunglasses that he tucked into his collar, looking extremely out of place compared to the rest of his driving attire.

Lando stepped forward and you flinched when he raised a single finger up to your forehead, tracing his fingertip over the lines above your eyebrows, “You shouldn’t squint, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Maybe if I had my sunglasses-” you reached for the accessory but Lando’s reaction time had you beat by miles. He jumped back and his laughter rang through your ears.

He adjusted them on his collar and when you realised you weren’t going to win this battle, you figured it wasn’t even worth it to fight.

And if he held onto them for the rest of the day, he’d have an excuse to find you later to give them back.

Not that you wanted that.

But you also didn’t not want that.

You didn’t know what you wanted, all you knew was that Lando confused you and each time you saw him this weekend so far, you held your breath or rolled your eyes or sometimes both.

Right now it was both as he sauntered to your side, draping his arm over your shoulder casually, as if you weren’t surrounded by people with cameras and smartphones with the ability to pick up on this little exchange and ultimately spin a story out of it.

Lando didn’t care, he had something else on his mind.

“Did you see where I placed?”

“Place what?”

He knew that you knew what he was talking about and the fact that you were making him work for it was, purposely, annoying. He tugged harshly on a handful of your hair which resulted in you pinching his side as retaliation. Lando knocked your water bottle out of your hand and jumped back to put space between you before you could yank on his driver suit, which you were trying to do.

You were children, essentially. Anyone walking by would see a couple of twenty-something year olds play fighting. You with a glare on your face and Lando with a cheeky grin because you picked up your water bottle and tried to throw it at him and the fucker managed to catch it like it was nothing.

“Qualifying, you little shit,” Lando finally clarified when he sensed you had given up on this immature battle. He tossed the bottle up and caught it with ease, still wearing that same smile. “I start fifth tomorrow.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

He winded his arm back and pretended to throw the bottle at you. Automatically, you held your hand up in defence and squinted, bracing yourself for an impact that never came. Instead, Lando stepped forward and grabbed your hand to lower it, a non verbal assurance that he wouldn't actually throw a water bottle at you…this time.

You noticed that his fingers lingered on yours longer than they should have. Lando did too and he handed over your drink, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck to play off whatever that little gesture was.

“Lance starts tenth,” he pointed out.

Just to piss him off, you clenched your hand to your chest and sighed dreamily, “My Canadian hero.”

“He starts tenth!” Lando repeated himself, much louder this time. “Come on, Y/N, this has to move me up your ranking.”

“Qualifying higher doesn’t mean you get points,” you weren’t about to let him get his hopes up. “Finish ahead of Lance tomorrow and I’ll see about bumping you up to fourth.”

“You are cruel.”

“You sound funny when you say that,” the corner of your lips curled upwards when his British accent made the ‘r’ sound in cruel come across more like crool.

“You sound funny.”

“Good burn, you really got me,” your words were layered with heavy sarcasm and you watched as Lando rolled his eyes. You two could probably set a world record for the amount of time eye rolls are exchanged in a single conversation.

“I don’t actually mean that,” Lando suddenly flipped a switch, his cheekiness being replaced by a bashful smile. “I like your accent. I like when you speak French, even if I don’t understand it.”

You could have thanked him for the compliment, if it could have even been considered one, but that wasn’t the type of friendship you had with Lando. You liked making his life difficult and in return, he liked to annoy you.

So you stepped up to him until there was only a few inches between your bodies. He seemed confused when you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, a soft gesture, one to purposely mislead him.

“Oh Lando,” you whispered, your smile growing warm. “Tu as le QI d'une huitre.”

You watched as Lando tried to piece together what you had just told him and he definitely was hoping it was polite because the way your voice sounded like silk made him think you were giving him a compliment. But Lando knew you, so he wasn’t counting on it.

“Tu as..” he mumbled to himself as you laughed. “Huitre? What is that? What’s that mean?”

You patted his cheek, deciding it was best to let him figure it out on his own. He probably wouldn’t have, let’s be honest here, but as luck would have it, Lando spotted one of the two French drivers on the grid headed in their direction.

Lando waved him over and you watched as Pierre slid his phone into his pocket, figuring that the conversation he was about to walk into was much more entertaining than whatever his phone could offer him.

Much like Lando, Pierre still wore his driver's suit, the upper half unzipped and hanging loose around his hips. He greeted Lando with a fist bump and congratulated him on his P5 starting position, and then he turned to you.

Your relationship with Pierre wasn’t awkward, but this was the first time you’ve seen him since finding out he told half the grid you slept together. In his eyes, nothing was wrong but you were uneasy around him. He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, something he often did when he walked past and just had time for a quick hello, something that you used to love because it told you that Pierre wasn’t disregarding you, he cared about you. And now you found yourself tensing, just for a moment, but you simply didn’t want him touching you.

You thought that you putting on a good poker face and acting normally, but Lando noticed right away how apprehensive you were about Pierre's gesture. Instead of allowing there to be a lull in conversation for Pierre to also notice and call you out on it, Lando acted fast. He draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you closer to his side, creating a bigger gap between you and Pierre.

“Gasly can you translate something for me?” Lando asked him. “Little Leclerc here said ‘tu as le huitre’ what the hell does that mean?”

“Tu as le que huitre…” Pierre shook his head seeing as Lando was missing a few words. “That doesn’t make any- oh, tu as le QI d'une huitre.” He looked at you, a smile curling up on his lips as he continued talking to you in French, “Oui? C'est ce que vous avez dit?” That’s what you said?

You nodded, but part of you hated that Lando couldn’t understand your words. You didn’t want to be able to have a private conversation with Pierre, you didn’t even want to talk to him right now. Lando being left out left you open to a sense of vulnerability with Pierre.

So you switched back to English, “He told me he liked when I spoke French.”

Pierre chuckled, “I don’t think that’s what he had in mind.”

Lando tightened his arm around you, putting you in a headlock for a second, “Will someone please tell me-”

“You have the IQ of an oyster, mate,” Pierre interjected, ending the translation with laughter. “That’s what Y/N said.”

Lando tilted his chin to look down at you, brows pinched, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together tighter. He was definitely taking back that compliment right about now and all you could do was offer him a guilty smile.

“I’m a lot smarter than an oyster,”

“Okay.”

“Why are you so cruel to me?”

“Why do you pronounce cruel like crool?”

Lando squinted at you, not able to come up with a suitable answer. And because you were finally within reach, you took this opportunity to snatch your sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and slide them on your face.

“Am I missing something here?” Pierre suddenly asked. Both you and the McLaren driver turned to him. Pierre was wagging his finger between the two of you, looking as if he was trying to solve a puzzle and somewhere between the close contact of you and Lando he'd find the last piece.

You shook Lando’s arm off of you, “What do you mean?”

“You’re-” he stopped short, licking his lips before changing his choice of wording. “I don’t know, Y/N, you don’t usually flirt out in the open like this.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Excuse me?”

Pierre held up a hand defensively and tried to play the observation off with a breath of laughter, “I’m not wrong. It’s entertaining, for sure, but you’re always so worried about Charles seeing, are you not?”

Were you flirting?

Every once and a while you’d flirt with Carlos, just for fun because you both knew it meant nothing.

But even Charles called you out on it earlier, for flirting with his teammate. Maybe you weren’t as subtle or maybe you just didn’t care if Charles was a witness to it anymore.

And Lando…honestly you weren’t even aware you were doing anything. You were just having fun, trying to get on his nerves while simultaneously hoping to make him smile. That wasn’t flirting, was it?

Or maybe Pierre was projecting. You never flirted publicly with him, he was your brother's best friend for christ's sake. Charles would find a way to ban you from the paddock if he caught wind of you two becoming a little too friendly.

You went with that option. It was easier than admitting that you were in fact being careless.

“I think you’re a little jealous,” the corner of your lip twitched into a smirk. Even Lando tried to hide his snicker, probably having thought the same thing.

As soon as you said it though, you regretted it. You recognized the mischievous glint in Pierre’s eye, one that practically screamed he had no reason to be jealous of Lando. Lando wasn’t the one you slept with. Lando never saw you the way he did.

And even though all three of you knew what took place, Pierre wasn’t going to say anything, still under the impression you were thinking he had kept it a secret.

You didn’t want him getting away with it. You wanted to slap that arrogant expression right off his face. The last thing you wanted was for Pierre to be able to walk away from this conversation with a higher sense of self than he already had.

But you also weren’t going to cause a scene in the paddock. Whatever conversation you wanted to have with Pierre, could wait.

“Good luck tomorrow,” you told him, forcing the wish through gritted teeth. You turned to Lando, “Where are you headed?”

“Where- what?” Lando repeated.

“Where are you going right now?” You asked. “I’ll walk with you.”

Pierre got the hint. You were purposely ignoring him and making an effort to not include him in the paddock. Your body faced Lando’s, a physical barrier between you and Pierre and you had the feeling he would call you out on it later. He too wasn’t going to get into any of this in the middle of the paddock.

“McLaren motorhome,” Lando finally answered. He nodded his head towards Pierre, “I’ll see you later, mate.”

Pierre seemed a little annoyed, but said nothing as he turned around. You waited until he was out of earshot before releasing a heavy breath.

“I just don’t want to be around Pierre.”

“Yeah I think that was pretty obvious.”

He then nudged his elbow against yours, wanting you to uncross your arms and loosen up a little. You did, reluctantly, but it was easy to push Pierre out of your head when Lando was giving you one of his classic grins.

You started to back up, “I won’t actually walk with you, you’ve probably got-”

“I want you to walk with me, though,” he cut you off, starting off in the McLaren motorhome direction. “Just don’t call me an oyster.”

“I didn’t call you an Oyster.”

“Fine, don’t compare me to one.”

You glanced around, wondering if continuing on your walk with Lando was really the best idea right now. You enjoyed his company, but you didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. The more you accompanied him, the more likely people would be coming to their own conclusions.

But with Lando’s encouraging head nod beckoning you to walk with him, followed by a smile you really couldn’t say no to, you found yourself at his side, on the way to the motorhome.

You tapped his arm with the back of his hand, “You know that this-” you gestured between yourself and him. “-we, you know, this whole thing it’s not- it’s not real, Lando.”

Lando seemed unaffected by your words, yet another rejection he was going to ignore, “What’s not real?”

“Like if I flirt with you, it doesn’t mean anything,” you clarified.

He nodded once. And then again a few seconds later as if it really sunk in.

“Well, maybe if you let me take you out on a real date-”

You pushed your shoulder into his, shoving him towards the middle of the paddock as he laughed, the last of his sentence fading into the air.

“Okay fine,” Lando cleared his throat, strolling back towards you after adjusting the suit on his hips. “What if I get a podium?”

“I’m not following.”

“Will you go on a date with me, a real one, if I land a podium tomorrow?”

You actually laughed at the thought. Lando rolled his eyes, trying not to be personally offended by your reaction.

“Lando, just focus on your race,” you said, trying to mask your amusement by scratching the corner of your lip. “If you do better than Lance, maybe you’ll move up the ranking. A date isn’t going to do anything to help you.”

He shrugged innocently, “What if I just want to go on a date with you?”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeated back, quite loudly might you add. You both looked around you but no one was paying either of you any attention, “Y/N come on, why wouldn’t I want to go on a date with you? You’re-” he took in a sharp inhale, “I mean, you’re stunning, for starters.”

“That’s it?” You raised your eyebrows. “My appearance? That’s all I have going for me?” You swiftly turned on your heels, “See ya’ later, Norris.”

“Hey, no, come on now.”

Lando was quick to grab hold of your wrist and tug you back. The sudden turn made you stumble over your own feet and you fell directly into his chest. Lando’s hand slid up your arm to help you regain your balance, but he didn’t let go of you once you were upright again.

He took a breath.

“When I see you during race weekends, my mood instantly improves,” Lando said, but he didn’t say it in a way that told you this was a sudden realisation. This was something he had known for a while, but never shared with you. “You’re so fun. I can be myself around you and you also grew up around motorsport so you’re familiar with this lifestyle. And I love talking to you, Y/N, even if it's just for a few minutes before I have to go to qualifying or- or now as we walk down the paddock and then go our separate ways. Your looks are- well they're definitely a plus, but they're not why I like you. I promise.”

You were speechless.

Genuinely, not a single word came to mind. Lando wasn’t one to just spurt out a string of compliments, let alone to you.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I want to go on a date because I just like spending time with you?”

“But the-” your mouth felt dry. “My ranking?”

Lando shrugged, “Well if I move up then that’s just an added bonus.”

Still, you were hesitant. His words were heartwarming, probably the nicest things you’ve heard in a long time, but you couldn’t just casually agree to go out with him.

The only upside was, Lando scoring a podium in his McLaren was extremely rare. He had yet to so far this season, it was unlikely one would come for him tomorrow.

“Fine,” you nodded firmly. “If you get a podium, I’ll go out with you.”

Lando seemed taken aback, like he didn’t think you’d actually say yes. Any other day, you wouldn’t have. But the podium ultimatum and his strangely out of pocket compliments pushed you towards possibly giving him a chance.

“What if I win?”

“Don’t push it.”

Lando’s head tipped back as he chuckled, “Come on, what if I win?”

Your arms flailed out to your side as you thought of something on the spot, “I don’t know, Lando. I’ll sleep with you.”

Lando’s eyes widened more than you thought possible and his jaw fell open. His grip on your arm loosened, probably because he couldn’t focus on anything other than staring right at you, completely frozen.

You lifted your hand to his chin to gently close his mouth, “I was joking.”

“But- you-” Lando sputtered, having trouble forming a coherent thought. “You can’t just say that. For Christ's sake, how am I supposed to do anything for the rest of the day?”

“Again, it was a joke,” you felt the need to repeat yourself so Lando didn’t get any hopes up. He was a guy. And like most guys, they thought with their dicks 9 out of 10 times. “Just focus on the race, okay?”

Lando’s head fell backwards and he looked up to the clear sky, looking for some sort of higher figure that could give him the answers he wanted. You patted his cheek before playfully pushing him in the direction of the McLaren motorhome.

“I’m going to go find Charles,” you said, using his silence as a reason to part ways.

You barely got a few feet away from Lando when he snapped out of his little daze and called after you, “But you weren’t joking about the date, right?”

“Focus on the race, Lando!” You called back, cupping the side of your mouth. You watched as he gave you one last eye roll and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice him trying to subtly adjust himself through his racing suit.

When you left to go find your brother, you had no idea that Lando would be replaying your words in his head for the remainder of the day.

If you get a podium, I’ll go out with you.

And if I win?

I’ll sleep with you.

He knew it was a joke, the sleeping with him part, but that didn’t mean it didn’t motivate him.

You were clueless to the fact that Lando paid more attention than normal during his post qualifying debrief. He usually gave the team anywhere from 90-95% of full focus, discussing his results, the strategies for tomorrow and everything in between. But today, it was 110%. Asking more questions and repeating them back for clarification. He wanted to get the most out of the car tomorrow, he wanted the date with you.

When you were sitting in the hotel lobby, chatting with a member of the Ferrari team, you weren’t paying attention when Lando walked through the doors. Up until now, neither of you were aware you were even in the same hotel, but Lando spotted you quickly. How could he not? Your captivating eyes and bold smile lit up the lobby at the end of a busy day. He was tired and ready for bed, but if you had noticed him and invited him to sit down, he would have happily nestled onto the couch next to you.

And Lando didn’t know that when someone called his name, you heard it. A faint ‘Lando’ echoed through your ear and momentarily pulled you away from your conversation. You weren’t trying to be rude when you looked over your shoulder and away from the team member, but you wanted to know if Lando was really in the room.

Sure enough, the second you found him leaning against the corner in the elevator, the doors slowly started to shut. He was looking down at his phone and hadn’t been watching you, but you didn’t know that he had been watching you up until he stepped into that steel box.

If you had caught his eye a second earlier, you probably would have ended your conversation and caught up with him to join him on the ride up. Just so you could have a few extra seconds to chat with him, see if you could an eye roll or two out of him before going your separate ways again.

Because for some reason, you really fucking liked talking to him too. He annoyed you at times, but in a way where you couldn’t actually stay mad and found some joy between his teasing. You could be yourself around him too, there weren’t any guards up around Lando.

You could admit you hung around outside the doors of the Ferrari motorhome longer than normal on Sunday, just in case Lando walked by. Was it so wrong that you wanted to wish him well before the race?

But as luck would have it, Lando wasn’t the driver to walk by and grab your attention. You looked up from your phone just in time to see Pierre making his way up the bright red steps.

“Can we talk?” He asked, but he only phrased it as a question for show. He wasn’t going to give you an option to walk away. Pierre leaned against the railing opposite of you.

“About?” You slid your phone into your pocket, head tilted innocently at the French driver.

“Yesterday,” he said. “There was just a bit of tension, Y/N, and don’t tell me there wasn’t any. I just want to know if we’re okay.”

You played dumb, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well I-”

“Because I was under the impression we would act as though what happened at Christmas didn’t happen,” you interjected sharply, a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you let Pierre piece together what you knew. “I sort of assumed that we would move on and be friends and that we wouldn’t tell anyone. So unless…something changed…why would there be tension, Pierre?”

You practically spelled it out for him. Something had in fact changed. Pierre didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

He dragged his hand over his face, “What did Lando say?”

“It doesn’t matter what Lando said!” You exclaimed with a bitter laugh. “We agreed to not say anything and yet you’ve gone and told half the grid!”

“Half the grid is a bit of a stretch.”

“I’ve told no one.”

“Well it’s different for you.”

“You’re such an ass,” you scoffed. “I don’t want Charles finding out, Pierre.”

“He won’t!”

“He will if you don’t stop talking to people about what happened six months ago,” you started to ascend up the stairs, having had enough of this conversation.

You had just reached for the handle when Pierre suddenly yelled out, “I’m sorry.”

All you could do was glance over your shoulder, “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it, Pierre. We both knew sleeping together was a mistake but I didn’t regret it,” you paused, releasing a soft breath. “Now I do.”

You walked into the motorhome without giving him another chance to apologise and you stayed there until it was time to head down to the garage. All hopes of seeing Lando had now vanished, you didn’t want to step outside and see anyone.

Was Lando disappointed when he walked past Ferrari and didn’t see you anywhere? A little, but he wouldn’t admit it. He thought maybe he’d catch you before the race, most drivers headed towards the garages at the same time anyway.

And when that time came, he spotted the bright red attire of Carlos and Charles, but you weren’t anywhere to be found. He even went the long way to the McLaren garage just to try and sneak a glance into Ferrari and see you in the visitor booth, but you weren’t there.

You didn’t show up until minutes before the cars were wheeled out towards the grid. You wished Charles good luck and grabbed a headset, finding a spot in the booth beside the VIP guests and family members.

When you glanced at the screen, your eyes landed on Lando sitting in fifth.

You would always root for a Ferrari 1-2, but what if Lando found himself on the podium today?

There were no words exchanged since you left him in the paddock yesterday. You doubted the date idea was forgotten about, but you wondered how serious Lando was about using it as motivation.

Not wanting to think too much about it, you focused on the race, something you've been telling the drivers to do for the last 24 hours.

The first ten laps, nothing happened. Charles kept his second place position, Lando dropped down to seventh.

By lap 11, George, who was in third, spun out, taking himself out of the race and Checo as well.

The safety car helped Lando catch up and because two cars were officially retired, he found himself in fifth, fighting for fourth.

A close call from Max earned him a five second grid penalty and when he went into the pits, his team unintentionally screwed him over. The wrong tyre was grabbed and his pit stop, that shouldn’t have been any longer than 8 seconds, ended up being almost twenty. Equivalent to an hour during a race.

Suddenly Lando was in fourth.

Charles led the race, Carlos behind, Lewis in third.

There was no way Lando had better pace than Lewis, not in that shitbox of a McLaren that seemed to provide horrible results week after week.

But then Lewis started struggling with degradation and Lando was catching up.

It was nearing lap 67 by the time Lando was within DRS range. You held your breath each time he activated it, letting his rear wing open. Each corner brought him closer and closer to Lewis.

And you had no idea what his end result was. When it became clear that the team was going to get a Ferrari 1-2, the crowd of you ran towards the gates to be able to celebrate with the drivers when they parked. As much as you wanted to see the battle between Lewis and Lando, you had to be there for your brother.

So you ran with the team, screaming in excitement when the chequered flag was waved at the end of lap 70. Charles taking home a win, Carlos close behind. They parked their cars in front of the banners labelled 1 and 2 and shared a congratulatory hug after stepping out of the cockpits.

But who got third?

Your view was blocked, you genuinely had no idea who crossed the line after Carlos. You wouldn’t know until the third place car finished their cool down lap and pulled in, which should be happening any second now.

You gave your brother a hug, squeezing his arms, all while keeping an eye at the end of the lane.

And then your question was answered.

The bright orange car drove up and came to a sudden halt in front of the third place banner. The McLaren crew crowded the barrier next to everyone from Ferrari, ready to congratulate the British driver.

Time froze for you as he climbed out of the car, fisting pumping the air. This was his first podium this season. He was overjoyed, he was walking on air, he was on top of the fucking world.

And then he took his helmet off and spotted you.

Lando should have gone directly for his team. He should have jumped into their arms and celebrated with them, but he used Carlos as an excuse to be near you. He patted Carlos on the back, the two of them sharing the same level of excitement, before he turned to you.

You held your breath as he leaned in, a wicked smile on his face, he didn’t even care that he was surrounded by a sea of red or that his team was waiting for him or that the media was definitely catching how you were the first person he approached after landing himself a podium.

You barely caught his eye before he dipped his face towards your ear, speaking only loud enough for you to catch his words.

“You free tonight?"

All you could do was nod.

Lando pulled away, but not before brushing his hand over your arm, sending a chill down your spine.

"Perfect."

masterlist here | part 3 in the series here taglist: @moneymasnn @thotd-f1 @masonspulisic

#lando norris #lando norris au #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris social media au #lando norris fic #f1 requests #f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #holllandtrash

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tadpolesonalgae · 7 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 6

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

A/N: Are things really getting better?

Warnings: honestly I don’t think this one’s that bad—comparatively, nodding instead of communicating, progression that I was not emotionally prepared for.

Word Count: 5,528

-Part 5- -Part 7-

“You could move in with me.”

Golden eyes meet your own, shining with sincerity. Maybe that’s the sunset.

Lips quirk, attention returning to the Sidra. Marking the small diamonds of teal and turquoise that gleam between the multitude of reds and yellows. A beautiful rainbow of colours. “Funny, Bas.”

“I’m serious,” he says, eyes weighing on your cheek. “You could help out, if you’re worried about being a burden. You’ve got the brains for it—it’d barely take any effort.”

You shake your head, firmly dismissing the idea, “it’s not that… I just couldn’t.”

“Why not?” He asks, clothing shifting as he readjusts himself. You peer down into the river, allowing the breeze to push and play with your feet—hanging over the ledge. Beneath you, Bas has laid a picnic blanket, the two of you sat cozily, side by side.

“It would be too much,” you reply, looking down the river. Peering at the restaurants that line it’s bank, preparing for the influx of customers that sweep in around this time. Eager to watch the colours flicker and dance. “I can’t ask that from you.”

Bas blows out a deep breath, the air bubbling from his lips. Laughter creeps into your eyes as they flick to him. He raises a single, dark brow, amusement gleaming in his gaze. “You know you sound like a horse when you do that.” Bas grins, full lips pressing together as he repeats the sound. Your own hurt as they stretch into a smile, “stop it. This is supposed to be a serious conversation.”

Amusement dances in his eyes as he takes in your feigned glare. “You didn’t seem to be taking it particularly seriously,” he counters, tucking one knee beneath his chin, propping it on his forearm as he watches you. Locks obscure some of the gold in his eyes as he peers at you from beneath a raised brow. “And your solution was to whinny like you were sulking?” You shoot back, smiling faintly.

“Well, maybe if you actually rode your horse from time to time, he wouldn’t be so grumpy,” he mutters playfully. A surprised laugh bursts from your lips, landing a knock to his shoulder in chastisement. He doesn’t so much as budge—merely smiles, propping his jaw on his arm instead of keeping the lower portion of his features obscured.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about,” he grins, watching the Sidra reflect in your eyes. “I’m laughing at the fact you would willing compare yourself to a horse,” you return. “Why not something more majestic? Like a lion?”

“Is that what you think of me? That I’m a lion?” You try to suppress your smile—why do you even bother when you’re around him? “Would you rather I compare you to a rat?” Bas barks a laugh, loud enough to draw a few sets of eyes, your own widening at the volume.

“Your flattery could use some work,” he says, still smiling. Tension releases your shoulders, breath easing from your lungs. A cool breeze flutters by, making you shiver. He shifts closer.

“What’s stopping you?” He asks gently, allowing the quiet to calm the two of you. Lips purse, teeth prodding your lower one. “I just couldn’t,” you murmur, “like I said: it would be too much.” His brow narrows, attention remaining solely on you.

“How?” He asks. “It would just be for a little, yeah? Until you find something to do.”

“But what if I don’t find something to do? Then I’d just be a dead weight, and I’d have to go back without having done anything,” you say, softly. “I wouldn’t be able to face them.”

Bas shifts again, lowering both legs over the edge, his thigh pressing to your own. “You’re smart. You’ll find something.” You roll your eyes at his false confidence. “You have nothing to base that on,” you smile, attention briefly flicking to him. “But I appreciate the reassurance.”

“Nothing to base it on,” he scoffs. “You read essays for fun. What other sources do I need?” You release an indignant huff, stubbornly setting your gaze back on the river.

When he figures you’re ignoring him, his hand darts behind you, quickly pinching your backside, before returning to his lap. You start, then turn to glare at him, “Bas.” He gives you one of his grins, and you falter. Heat settles in your lower belly. “I think it would be a nice arrangement, don’t you?” He drawls, roughly. “You wouldn’t have to sneak around as much. Could just roll out of bed and straight into mine.”

Something dark and syrupy gathers between your legs and you glare at him harder, heat warming your skin. “We’re in public, Bas,” you chastise, eyes darting around to make sure no one detects the shift in your scent. No one except for the male who’s leaning in a little closer now, nosing at your throat with interest. “Then maybe we should go somewhere else, yeah?”

Golden eyes lock with your own, darkened with hunger. It hits you like a kick in the stomach; muscles practically melt. “You’re way too good at that for my liking,” you breathe, already having trouble looking away from his mouth. Lips lift into a smirk, sharp eyes gleaming, “well I get a lot of practice, don’t I?”

Teeth push into your lower lip, and all it takes is the few seconds you look away from him to make up your mind.

You need a night to empty your head. To feel again.

And Bas is the perfect relief.

————

The story repeats itself, more familiar to you than anything else in your life.

Hot breath tickles the nape of your neck, lips lifting into a helpless smile as you attempt to move out of the way. Arms wrap snugly around your waist, dragging you across the mattress, back flush to his naked front. Hair brushes against you, clean and rough, making you squirm in his grip. Vaguely trying not to wake him.

It’s over when he huffs a soft laugh onto your skin, and you lightly elbow him in the ribs. “Bas…” you laugh quietly, rolling over to face him. Golden eyes cut into your own, already clear despite sleep weighing his lids. “Trying to sneak away?” He asks, mouth quirked in a faint grin. You roll your eyes, noting the beams of sunlight streaming in from the circular skylight. Brow furrows, “what time is it?”

His expression mirrors your own, raising to peer over your head at the old clock mounted on the opposite wall. “It’s eleven thirty. About.”

You groan into his chest, ducking back beneath the covers. Count to seven. Pop back out. “I should be going, shouldn’t I?”

Bas quirks a brow, watching you fondly, well-accustomed to the questions you ask yourself. Watches as you sigh again, then roll over, allowing you to leave. Especially when it gives him a view of your lovely body, softened by sleep as you move lethargically to find your clothes. Pick them up. Set them on the bed. Move for the washroom. He uses the time to steady himself.

In retrospect, you were pretty quick—the two of you up and out of his house before the hour hand struck one. Walking up the short path through the garden that leads to the River House before half past.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, yeah?” He checks, hands tucked into his pockets. Casual and at ease. Comfortable in his skin.

Lips quirk playfully, “greedy.”

His mouth matches your own, “you’re just as bad as I am. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I’m not the one who was at attention first thing in the morning, Bas,” you whisper, smiling as his golden eyes gleam. “I’d be a little confused if you were, dove. Very flattered, though.”

Lips part in a grin, cheeks aching from your time spent with him. “Okay, I’ll drop by in a few days,” you smile, aware of your own reluctance to return to the house. “Try not to lose your head in the meantime.” Hand presses down on the handle, door swinging open, a gust of cool air greeting you.

Bas grins—one of his grins. “I’d be happy to give it to you,” he teases, eyes gleaming with amusement and a drop of sincerity. “Whenever you want, dove. It’s your call.” Heat flushes your skin at his offer—what even sex can’t decriminalise to your mind. He retreats a step, gold flashing in the sun as he grins easily, “you can’t hide from it forever. One day, yeah? I’ll show you how good it can be.”

You want to reply, but he’s already sauntering off, hands still tucked in his pockets, casual and leisurely. Bastard.

His offer repeats, how nonchalantly he regards that particular intimacy. As if it doesn’t go against the very root of human society. The foundations you were brought up on. Highlighting a primary difference between here and where you grew up. Women aren’t supposed to enjoy sex, let alone have it to themselves.

Sighing, shoulders weighed down, you allow the door to close at your back. Already missing him.

Walking into the entrance hall, you spot a parcel sat atop the entrance table, beside the vase filled with flora. Eyes flick about the room, checking no one’s around as you make for the stairs, aiming for your room.

“You aren’t going to take it?” Azriel asks, appearing in the doorway leading to the sitting room. You still, blinking. Turn around warily. “Pardon?” Hazel flicks to the package, “the parcel. Aren’t you going to open it?” Attention moves to the table between you. “That’s not—… I didn’t get anything?” You say, shifting on your feet.

“The note says it’s for you,” he replies, remaining the other side of the room.

Debate your options. Slowly walk forward, picking up the package. The note is indeed carrying your name. Flip it over to read its underside. In a clean, elegant script is scrawled: For your education.

Brows narrow, turning the parcel in your hands. No note saying who it’s from. Maybe it’s a late birthday present? “Thanks…” you murmur, absently, “I would have walked past it.” Eyes squinted in confusion, you make to turn around, interested in unwrapping it. Discoveries to be made.

“Eris left it.” Azriel states quietly. Intrigue vanishes, feeling like you’re holding scorching coals.

Gaze lifts to meet his own. “He did?” It seems he enjoys stirring up chaos.

Azriel nods, attention never leaving you. “Did he mention what’s inside?” You ask hesitantly, loosening your grip on the hard rectangle. He shakes his head in answer, making you sigh.

“And I suppose you want to know what’s inside?” You ask, grim smile on your lips. His throat rolls, eyes flicking away. “I would appreciate it if you let me know once you open it.” Blink away your surprise. Nod slowly. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Okay.”

Hastily clear your throat, emotion clogging your chest. Turn to head to your bedroom. “Are you feeling better?” He asks, again causing you to stop. Peer at him close, wary. “I am…” you hedge, watching him closely.

He nods, “good.” Shifts on his feet. “I’m glad.”

Your heart skips a beat, staring at him with poorly concealed surprise. Something flickers in his gaze, eyes briefly flitting away from your own, allowing you to shift your features to cover what you’re feeling.

“Yeah, I had… I had a good morning,” you mumble, peering down at your feet to hide the flush on your cheeks. He hums in acknowledgement, and your toes curl in your shoes, something warm and tender spreading across your breastbone. “Pillage any bookstores while you were out?” He asks, enough sincerity to have your lips stretching wide into a grin, cheeks aching all over again, painful enough you have to try to force it away.

“Not today. I thought I’d leave some for Nesta,” you reply, meeting his gaze. His features are neutral, but the edges of his irises are softer—warmer than normal. You quickly look away, stomach fluttering wildly. Too many butterflies suddenly resurrected for you to handle.

A peaceful quiet calms the room, allowing you some time to temporarily bask in the warmth of his approval.

“About our conversation, a few days ago…” he begins gently. Carefully. You shift on your feet, but don’t flee from the spot.

“I’m sorry for how I went about it,” he settles on. “Eris… There are some awful people in this world, and what he did to Mor…” he blows out a breath, shoulders loosening some of their tension. “I wouldn’t want that happening to you because he’d managed to convince you he could be trusted. I couldn’t forgive myself if that happened,” he admits quietly. “None of us could.”

Your heart rises up into your throat, pounding wildly as your eyes meet. Hazel calm, and steady. Tough and reassuring. You manage a weak nod of your head, fingers tightening on the package. “It’s fine,” you say gently, too overwhelmed to manage much more. “I’d already… You don’t need to apologise,” you reassure, fighting to keep your voice from trembling. “I’d practically forgotten.”

His eyes flicker, then he nods, accepting your assurance. “Then I won’t keep you any longer.” You nod back, mirroring the movement, “yeah. Okay.” It takes you a moment to remember yourself, clutching the parcel tighter, “I’ll go open this now, then.” You give him a smile before you turn, managing to ascend the stairs without turning to see if he’s still there.

Lungs hold at full capacity, near bursting with something warm and fuzzy as you peel back the brown paper, removing the string keeping it together. Take a few minutes to scan the pages of the volume, attention flitting mindlessly over diagrams and neatly written essays, quick to reach the end. It looks interesting, titled: Prythian: An Anthology of Discoveries.

While flicking through, you catch glimpses of constellations, depictions of your solar system, detailed illustrations of the planet closest to your own—further from the centre. Near the end, one in particular catches your attention: three overlapping ovals, appearing to make up a six-petaled flower that contains some small dots at its heart. Intriguing. Utterly fascinating.

You reach the final page, and make to flip back to the beginning, intending on reading each passage in detail, but—you’d said you’d let him see. He’s trusting you to follow through, and you’re not going to disappoint. Not now he’s allowing you some leeway.

So you hop to your feet, and make your way to where you saw him last, happily handing it over for inspection. Hazel flicks over the cover, taking in the title, scanning the first few pages in detail before shutting it again. “Thank you,” he says softly, “I’ll go through it quickly and then you’re free to read away.” A smile lifts your mouth, heart fluttering as you nod your head. “It’s fine,” you say, “take your time. I get you’re busy.”

Then you turn, not wanting him to see the deep flush on your cheeks—embarrassingly warm—and hurriedly make your way back to the silence of your bedroom. Clean and tidy, at last.

Heart pounding, you lean against your door. Replaying the gentle talk he’d given you. It’s been too long since he’s acted like that, breathing becoming shallow at the memory alone.

Slowly, you inhale a deep breath, pressing against the wood as you slide down, until you’ve reached the bare floor. Hand slides across your chest, feeling the drum of your pulse. Hold the breath to steady your lungs.

And when that breath releases, relief crushes down with it.

Finally.

Finally, you’ve gotten something right.

————

Days pass in a blur, and you find yourself pondering what to wear.

Bas had told you to find him in a couple of days, and quite frankly, you’re looking forward to it. Azriel will be done with your book soon, too. Probably either today or tomorrow, making your heart flutter. So many exciting things happening all at once! So many things to be happy about! It’s exhilarating.

The sky is clear as usual, sun beating down onto the cobbled streets. The flower baskets hanging either side doors and windows sway, leaves and petals glowing in the warmth, curling at the edges. You should wear something loose, to keep cool.

Before you know it, you’re ready and dressed, descending the staircase when knocks are landed to the front door. Golden eyes gleam with mischief when you answer, refreshing breeze sweeping in, playing with your skirts. He’s in the front garden, dark locks tied back, a few that aren’t long enough to reach framing his features. The carved beauty of his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the spark in his eyes…exhilarating.

“Bas,” you greet, smiling. “What are you doing here? Did you miss me?” He rolls his eyes, hands remaining tucked at his back, something rustling as he shifts. “Just making sure you weren’t going to chicken out, dove,” he says cockily, lips parting in a familiar grin. “And, well, I got you these.” From behind his back he pulls out a paper wrapped bouquet, containing pink and white baby’s breath. The flora is dried to keep it preserved, so it will store nicely in your room, without demanding any particular care.

Your can feel your features stretch as a smile overtakes your entire face. “Bas, are you serious?” Tentatively, you accept the menagerie of flowers, eyes gleaming as you peer into the swirl of colour, so complimentary to one another. He shrugs, “you seemed down last time. I thought these might brighten you up a little.” You meet his gaze, gold soft around the edges, and you feel yourself melt a little inside. “Thank you, Bas. You really didn’t need to.” You turn back to the bouquet, smiling.

“I wanted to,” he replies, nonchalantly. “So go put them up in your room, yeah? Then we can go out and have fun.”

You nod absently, making to head back inside, “where did you even find them? These don’t look endemic to the Night Court?”

“New shop,” he calls, “had all these long names in the window. Guessed you’d like stuff like that.” Lip press together in a smile, hurrying into the entrance hall and up the stairs, setting them on the table before returning. “Did you pick these out because they were the nicest or because they had the most complicated name?” You hop down the last step, mindlessly glancing at the table in the centre of the room.

“You couldn’t waterboard the title out of me,” he admits, a smile lighting his eyes. “Something like Gyrophilia Panicrolilia.” A snort bursts from you at the tangle of consonants.

“Gypsophilia Paniculata,” you amend, “from the Caryophyllaceae family. Same as carnations?” Bas sighs, “of course you know the name.”

“No,” you laugh, trying to make it clear you’re being sincere. “I just read a book on botany the other day. Otherwise I swear I wouldn’t have known. It’s a coincidence.” Bas gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you, making you smile wider. “Well, shall we?”

You’re about to cross the threshold when you hear your name being called from the sitting room, boots lightly scuffing on the floor as to not surprise you. Stiffening, you turn to face Azriel, stood in the doorway. Hazel pierces into you, having already marked the guest at the door. A strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. He doesn’t like Bas. “Yes?” You ask, fingers wringing together.

Boots move forward, making you tense as he steps fully into view, coming to stand at your side. Golden eyes flick over the male, his familiar lips quirking and you send him a sharp glance. He barely managed to keep his mouth shut the last time they collided. “Azriel,” he greets, inclining his head ever so slightly. “Bas,” he returns, features neutral. Anxiety swarms the pit of your stomach, turning to fluttering butterflies when his fingertips graze the base of your spine. Tension seeps from your shoulders, attention helplessly attracted to his gravitational pull.

Hazel remains locked on gold for a second longer than necessary, before latching onto you. Skin prickles beneath his focus, features flushing with warmth despite the breeze. “I thought I’d let you know I’m finished with the book,” he says calmly. “Feel free to collect it whenever you want.” Slowly, you nod in acknowledgement. Swallow. “Okay,” you manage, world fading a little around him. “Is there a time that’d be good for you?” You ask, attempting to steady out your heartbeat.

Azriel pauses, thinking. “After dinner would be good,” he settles on, and you nod.

“Okay,” you answer, “I’ll knock after dinner, then.” His eyes flick to Bas briefly, and you tense. Are either of them going to clash? “Well,” you break the silence, not waiting to find out. “I’ll see you later.” You offer one of your better smiles. He nods, still watching Bas. Step forward, falling into pace beside him, heading out into the bright sun-warmed streets of Velaris.

“You heave really questionable taste, you know that?” Bas states once you’re both down the street, out of ear-shot. Smile, and roll your eyes. “Isn’t that obvious? I spend so much time with you.” He snorts, shoving you lightly. “I’m serious,” he says, eyes gleaming, “you looked like you were about to start glowing.” The laughter stumbles in your chest, coming out a little strained, but you manage to persevere. “Very funny, Bas. Now can we change the subject?” You offer, glaring at him playfully.

“All I’m saying is you picked a difficult guy,” he comments, eyes scanning the shops. Sighing, your attention flits into different windows, picking out all sorts of items and antiquities. “Why don’t you two get on?” You subvert, trying not to peer at him to mark his reaction, “I’ve never seen you quarrel with anyone else?”

Bas shrugs, “how should I know. We’ve barely ever spoken before.” Your brow dips, but he finally seems content to let the subject drop. You’re more than happy to let it slip away.

————

“Come in.”

Toes curl at the sound of his voice, but you gently push away the heat, stepping into his office, scanning the room curiously. He’s sat at his desk, piles of paper neatly stacked a few inches from the edges, ink pots and quills as well as a few daggers litter the remaining space. Typical decoration for him. The room is fairly sparse of personal touch, save for a rug laying atop the floor, muffling to step of your feet.

“Hi,” you say quietly, smiling as hazel latches onto you. Giddiness warms your heart, melting your bones to soft liquid. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Azriel straightens in his chair, setting aside whatever report he was inevitably filing, giving you his full attention. “No, actually. Perfect timing—I was just finishing.” A sigh breathes from your lips, tension seeping from your shoulders as you step further into the room. “Was everything okay? With the book, I mean,” you ask, automatically seeking out the neatly bound volume.

He nods, standing as he picks it up, handing it over. “Do you know why he gave it to you?” Blink once. Redirect your attention to the anthology, gently plying it from his hands, bringing it to rest against your torso. Like a strange, make-shift shield. “Not really,” you admit. “We had a brief talk about my orrery, but he seemed fairly disinterested.”

“Your orrery?” He asks. “Like the one Rhys has?” Your head raises by itself, meeting his piercing gaze. Eyes sparkle as you nod, grinning, “mine’s a little smaller—by quite a bit, actually. But ‘Lain got it for me and” —you shift the volume into one of your arms, Azriel’s hands flexing at his sides as if you might drop it— “it’s the most beautiful creation I’ve ever seen. It’s utterly incredible. I’d love to show you sometime—it’s so intricately carved, and the texture is rendered so lovingly.” You stop momentarily to ease in breath. “But really, it’s utterly incredible.”

Azriel looks vaguely surprised. “I think that’s the quickest I’ve ever heard you speak,” he comments, gaze flitting to the book, “I didn’t realise you had an interest in science.” Heat flushes your cheeks, torn between clarifying that you aren’t trying to disprove the existence of the Mother, and telling him more about the worlds and the universe. Telling him everything you can think of regarding the subject, actually. It’s all perched on the tip of your tongue, ready to be recited with perfect accuracy.

“Did you have a good day today?” He asks instead, knocking you off your feet. Memories of the stars vanish, replaced by a blank space. Blink once. Twice. Nod slowly. “Yeah…I did,” you answer softly, unaccustomed to being asked after. Clear your throat. “What about you?” You fumble out, “have fun doing your” —peer at the stack of reports on his desk, wincing— “…work?” He nods back, “I suppose. It’s out of the way, now.” You nod in acknowledgement, fingers itching to tangle with one another.

“Okay,” you say, softly, “remember not to overwork yourself…” You chicken out, unable to finish with his name. Toes curl in your shoes. Just the two of you. Two people in one room. Two people alone. Alone together. Heartbeat spikes. Book shifts in your arms. Deep breath.

“I—… There’s something…you might…” you fumble, skin flushing, unsure what to say. “I mean, it might not— You might not need to know, but maybe it would be better to tell you? But I don’t…” Embarrassment weighs in your gut, numbness gliding down your back. His attention weighs into you, making you shift to your other foot, resting the heavy book on your hip. He holds out an offering hand and you mindlessly return the volume, wringing your fingers. Deep breath.

“I…sometimes glow.”

He blinks. Nods for you to continue. Bite your lip.

“It’s only really been my hands…” you say quietly, “but they glow, quite brightly, sometimes. It’s kind of green…maybe a bit yellow? —like Starfall.” He nods again, silently telling you to continue. Tongue flicks out to lick your lips, finding them dry. “That’s…it.” Shift on your feet.

“When did it first happen?” He asks, causing you to perk up again.

“Maybe a month…” —his brows narrow— “or a fortnight ago? I’m sorry, I can’t really…” He nods in understanding. “That’s fine,” he reassures, easily sustaining the weight of the thick volume. Gestures to his desk. You follow him around the furniture obediently. Heart flutters when he motions for you to sit in the chair. His chair.

“Do you remember what you were doing when you first started glowing?” He asks, though his voice is a distant pleasure in your mind. Attempting not to lose your mind as his warmth wraps around you, his scent seeping into your clothing, seeping into your skin.

Your name sounds on his tongue, and you blink, looking up at him. Blink away the fogginess. “Would it be easier to talk elsewhere?” He suggests, gently. Shoulders a little stiff. You swallow, hurriedly shaking your head, “no, I’m fine…just remembering.”

He nods, “if you want to move, that’s fine.” You nod back. Pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “It was when we went to the… With Elain? To…” Lips press together. She was going to see Lucien. Hazel flickers briefly, but he waves it off, gesturing for you to continue. Heart flutters. Swallow again.

“And…you know I ended up in the river?” You ask, gently. Dips his head in response. Bite your lip in embarrassment. “Well, I got…quite angry about it.” Surprise lights his eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut, allowing you to finish speaking. Nod to yourself slowly, “and I got back up onto the path and…hit…him.” Dip your head, peering down at your feet, anxiety twisting sharply in your gut. Nausea rising. “Please don’t let him know I told you. He’ll probably be furious if—”

A surprised laugh cuts you off, making you look up at him.

There’s a dimple to one corner of his lips, the edges curved upward, and he’s laughing. Hand covering his mouth, attempting to quiet himself. You stare.

Air ceases flowing.

Mirth dances in his hazel gaze, while the laughter stops as quickly as it started, but… You stare. Eyes lock. You can’t look away.

Azriel gestures for you to carry on. “Go ahead.”

“That was” —clear your throat of the sudden raspiness— “that was the first time it happened.”

“Did Eris see?” He asks, making you stiffen. Yes, he definitely saw.

“I’m not sure…” you hedge, shifting in the seat. “It happened quite quickly, so maybe not?”

“If there was enough time for you to notice, it’s more than likely he did, too,” Azriel reasons steadily, settling back into a strategising mindset. Hard eyes flick to you, “you should have told me this earlier. Why didn’t you say anything on the way back?”

“I was scared,” you whisper. The words out before you can stop them. Humiliation burns through your stomach lining. “Anyway,” you murmur, softly, trying to tuck deeper into the chair. To take up less space in his office. “I only noticed because of the feeling. Not particularly the colour.” Burning is quite difficult to ignore.

Quiet stretches between you, making your nerves wriggle.

“Please don’t be angry,” you manage, looking up at his unreadable features. “I know I should have said something, but I just— There wasn’t a good time,” you finish quietly. Duck your head. You should have told them sooner. “A good time,” he repeats slowly. Processing your excuse.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. Unable to look at him.

Azriel sighs deeply. Flexes his hands. Folds his arms. “You know you should have said something,” he says at last. Bite the inside of your lip. Nod your head. Quiet stretches. “Any information regarding your magic,” he begins, “is information you should not be giving out. It jeopardises our unified front. Imagine if he had brought it up during a meeting without us knowing. Can you see how that would have gone?” You nod your head again.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. Head hanging between your shoulders.

He sighs, weight settling in your stomach. “Better now than later,” he says at last, and relief crushes into your bones. Shoulder slumping as you settle back into his chair. “You should tell Rhys, or Feyre, whoever you’d prefer, and we can start figuring out what’s going on with your magic. Okay?”

You stare at him. Slowly shake your head. His eyes narrow.

“No,” you mange. “No, I don’t— I’m not telling them.”

“You can’t hide your powers,” he chides, giving you a look that doesn’t settle well in your stomach. “You’ve told me. It’s no different.”

“No,” you repeat. Still shaking your head.

“Then I’ll have to tell them.”

“No,” you say, panic working its way into your throat. “No, you can’t.”

“I can,” he counters, “it’s the right thing to do.” Eyes narrow, “why are you against it?”

“I was there, you know,” you remind, gripping tight to the chair. “When Nesta—” Cut yourself off. Try again, softer. “When she was deteriorating.”

“I can promise you won’t be forced to train relentlessly every morning. That was solely to give her something to latch onto.” His brow narrows, watching you intently. “And she’s done well. Very well. You shouldn’t be scared of becoming like her.”

“Give me a month,” you ask, hands gripping the arm rests either side of the chair. “Give me a month, and if I haven’t worked anything out, I’ll tell them.” Azriel pauses, marking the trembling of your fingers.

“A week,” he offers.

“A fortnight,” you counter, joints practically splintering in your knuckles.

Hazel glitters in the low light. Then he nods, reluctantly. “A fortnight.”

————

Arms ache from the bound volume. Dust motes shooting out as it thumps on your desk—pushed up against the wall.

Cough, waving away the particles. Sit down. Stare at the anthology with dull eyes.

It’ll be exciting once you start. Just open the first page, and you’ll be alight again.

(A fortnight.)

Spine creaks as you flip open the book; your brow dips. There should be a stamp of some kind—an indentation to say where to return it to. It’s always right on the inside, yet there’s nothing here.

Frown deepens, running fingers over its insides, tracing the ribbing. It’s thicker than you’re accustomed to. Nails catch a the edges; you blink. Slide deeper, carefully prying the paper from the edge, as if it’s been stuck down from age.

A dull smile dusts your lips, spotting the stamp you’d been searching for. Triumph sparks and dies in the blink of an eye as you pull the paper from the book—clearly misplaced.

Ink catches you attention. Probably an annotation from some past scholar. Raise it to the light to see clearly.

Heart stutters. Take in the clean, elegant script.

Hello, cygnet.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

#CBMTHY #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You #CBMTHY Part 6 #Azriel #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader #Azriel x reader angst #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Night Court #Autumn Court #acotar #acosf

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aalyssah · 15 days

Text

Bloodline Members When Pregnant Wife Has Midnight Cravings

Characters: Roman Reigns, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Solo Sikoa. x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 2,497

A/N: When I thought about this I instantly knew I wanted to write it for the Bloodline. And I'm never gonna stop writing for this type of Bloodline. Freak whatever it is now. Anyways, Hope You Enjoy!

Roman Reigns:

You woke up to nothing, but silence and darkness.

You let out a little groan, turning your head to the side to your nightstand to see it was 2:10 AM. All of a sudden through the silence your stomach growled.

Your face twisted up, your 6 month baby kicking, begging for food. You turned your head to the side again and saw Roman peacefully sleeping with his hand on your stomach.

You desperately wanted something to eat to help you and your baby before going back to sleep, but Roman was sleeping and you don't wanna wake him up.

After he main evented WrestleMania and lost his title after 1,300 days, you wanted nothing more, but for him to sleep after all the hard work he has done.

You looked around the room. The TV was on Netflix asking 'Are You Still Watching?' maybe if you turned on a random show he wouldn't hear you leaving the room. You searched for the remote and found it underneath the blanket before turning on something random.

You carefully slid his arm off your bump and slowly made your way up and out of bed. Little breathes and grunts were heard in the room as you pushed yourself up and when you did, you cheered, before hopping up.

Your feet hit the wood floor and pattered all the way downstairs and to the kitchen. You were very careful going down the steps, holding onto the railing for dear life.

You shouldn't even be going there with no help anyways, but what Roman doesn’t know won't hurt him. He's been super overprotective when it comes to you and the baby, practically doing everything for you, so you won't have to lift a toe.

You made it to the kitchen, walking around and opening up cabinets to see what snack would reel you in and a cabinet later, Cool Ranch Doritos caught your eyes. You grabbed them, slowly opening the bag so you wouldn't make much noise.

You didn't really turn up the volume on the TV that loud, so it was all to you to be stealthy.

Once you got them open you did a little celebration dance. You took a chip out and took a bite. You let out a moan as the seasoning hit your tongue. This is just what you needed at 2:20 in the morning

You picked up another chip and as soon as you were about to put it in your mouth, the clearing of a throat caught you. You jumped, dropping the chip and whipping around only to see your husband.

He stood there, arms crossed over his chest with a disapproving look. "What do you think you're doing out of bed?" He asked, making his way around the island. You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes to seem innocent. "The baby was hungry, so I came down for a mid snack."

Roman took a small breath. He wasn't mad at you, he couldn't be, but the thought of you going down the steps with no help made him worried.

"Okay, but why didn't you wake me up? I could’ve gotten you something." You avoided his eyes, looking down at the bag. "I wanted you to rest. You've been working so hard and I didn't want to make you get up."

Roman sighed, grabbing the bag and putting them on the counter before his hands circled around your waist, pulling you close. "Baby, I don't care how long I've worked, wake me up. You know how I feel about you going down them steps without any help."

You nodded your head, letting Roman guide you back near the steps, but you stopped him. "Wait!" He paused. "Can you get the chips?" Roman chuckled as he got your bag of chips and helped you up the steps.

Now, his next mission is to make your nightstand a snack drawer and put a mini fridge nearby so you can have everything you need and want without getting up.

Jimmy Uso:

The sound of your stomach growling woke you up. It was loud and hurting as your baby kicked and moved for food.

You were about 7 months pregnant and your cravings have been getting weirder and weirder each month. Last month you wanted pickles and pancakes and the month before that you were obsessed with toast with ranch.

Yeah, nasty, but you were enjoying it. But tonight was simple. You yearned for a Burger King wrap.

You looked over at your husband who was sleeping on his back, his mouth open as he breathed in and out. He looked so relaxed.

"Jimmy." You called out quietly, but he didn't move. "Jimmy." You tried once more, but still he didn't wake up. You began shaking his body, repeatedly calling his name. "Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, Baby, wake up. I'm hungry."

Jimmy finally woke up. "W-what?" He groggily asked, rubbing sleep out his eyes. "I'm hungry." He looked at you and then the clock. "Really? It's 4 in the morning!" He groaned out.

He knew he would get up either way, but wanted you to know what time it was that you got him leaving the house for something to eat. "Please, Jim! I'm really craving a Burger King wrap." Jimmy shook his head in shame as he got up and slipped on some sweatpants and his Nike slides.

“That's all you want? A wrap?" You cheered, sitting up. "Yes please, and some pink lemonade!" And with your order, Jimmy left going to his car and driving all the way to Burger King. He decided to go inside since nearly every time he ordered at the drive thru, they got something wrong.

As he opened the door he caught the eye of an old friend. "Kofi, is that you?!" Kofi turned around and saw Jimmy, a smile coming to both of their faces. "Aye, man, what'chu doing here at 4 AM?" Kofi asked as Jimmy remembered. "Y/n's cravings again. She wants a chicken wrap." Kofi chuckled. "Sounds like her. Anyways, how has WrestleMaina treated you?"

As the two began to talk about WWE, Jimmy forgot what he was even in there for until his stomach growled. "Oh, I'm a little hungry. I'll talk to you some other time, Uce." Jimmy said to Kofi as he went up to order something. He got him a burger before getting back in the car and going home.

He opened the door and was instantly met with you standing there with a smile on your face. "Food!" You cheered, your hands out, but that made Jimmy freeze.

Your food.

That's what he was supposed to be getting.

Your smile dropped as you saw there was one bag and no drink. "Where's my food?" You quietly asked him as Jimmy still stood there.

He was very careful with his words as he broke the news to you. "Babe, I'm so sorry. I forgot-" Jimmy didn't even finish his sentence as your eyes teared up. You were really looking forward to a wrap and pink lemonade.

Jimmy put the bag down and pulled you into a hug. "No, no, please don't cry. I-I'll go get your food, just don't cry." Jimmy pleaded.

Curse your stupid hormones for making you feel this way over food.

“Please." You begged as Jimmy broke away. "Okay, stay here. It won't take long, I promise." Jimmy said, placing a kiss on your forehead and rushing back out to Burger King.

Like promised, it only took about 20 minutes and he was already back home, but when he didn't see you standing in the living room waiting for him, he thought you went to sleep, but when he walked through the hallway and turned the corner to your shared room, he saw you on the bed with HIS burger wrapper ball up.

You looked up at him with your mouth full of food, an apologetic look on your face. "Sorry, I was really starving."

Although Jimmy really wanted that burger, he couldn't be mad at you. He handed you your food and drink and watched as you happily ate.

Jey Uso:

"Jey?" Jey's eyes opened at the sound of his name being called. You sat above him, a hand on his chest. "Yeah?" He asked, looking at you.

You had this innocent look to which he knew you were about to ask for something. "The baby's hungry, can you get me something to eat?" Jey let out a sigh as he sat up, kicking his legs over the side of the bed. "What are you craving?" He asked.

You shrugged your shoulders not really feeling the need for a specific food. All you know is that you’re hungry . "I dunno? I just want something." Jey chuckled.

"Fast food or homemade?" You quickly answered. "Homemade." Jey nodded his head going to the kitchen and looking at what y’all had. He found some Ramen noodles, deciding to cook it for you. It was warm, a little salty, and something that will get you full.

He went back into the room with the bowl, bringing it to you. "Ramen for you." He didn't even get to put the bowl on the nightstand before you spoke. "Actually, I don't want that." Jey's brows furrowed. "Well, what do you want?" He asked, holding onto the bowl. "It doesn't matter, but not noodles." Jey took note and returned back to the kitchen.

He looked through the cabinets again and found bread. The thought of French toast came to mind. Instead of eating something salty you'll have something sweet.

He was quick to make that and came back to the room, a smile on his face. "Here's some French toast, baby." You took the plate, stabbing the toast with the fork he gave you and took a bite.

A moan of satisfaction came out of you as the sweet syrup hit your tongue. "Mm, this tastes so good!"

Jey nodded proudly, going to his side of the bed and not even 5 minutes later you were calling out his name. "Jey?" Jey looked at you to see a different look on your face. "Don't be mad, but I kinda don't want this either."

Jey closed his eyes, trying to control himself from getting upset. "So what do you want now?" You thought about it for a second before answering. "McDonalds?" Jey got up and put his crocs on. "The regular?" You nodded and Jey left.

He went all the way to McDonalds which was 10 minutes away and got your favorite thing and drink, but on his way home his phone dinged. As he reached a red light he quickly took a peek at the notification and saw a text from you.

'Change of plans, don't want McDonald's, feeling Burger King rn.'

Jey growled in slight anger. He just got the food and was halfway home, but now he has to turn around and go to Burger King. Even though he was a little mad he turned around and went to Burger King, getting your classic order.

Once again, he drove back home and opened the door, but you were already standing there, a small smile on your face. "Jey?" He silently pleaded you weren't gonna say what he thought you were.

"I actually want Dominos." And there it was. It took everything inside him to hold back the words he wanted to say.

He quietly left the house and got back into the car which scared you. You know he's tired and wants to get back in bed, but he's gonna keep going out until you get what you truly want.

He pulled up to dominos, but before he got out the car, his phone rang. He saw your name and quickly answered it. "What is it now?" You were silent for one second before telling him.

"I'm thinking about a chicken sandwich from Chick-Fil-A instead of pizza." He's tried. Jey had tried holding it in for so long, but this was his final straw.

Not only were you pissing him off, but you were stressing him out. You got him running all around to different fast food places only for you to call it off for a new one. He was kinda done.

"Are you serious, Y/n? I've driven to 3 different fast food places only for you to change your mind every time. I'm tired and want to go to bed, so please for the love of my Dad, make up your mind." As Jey finished his sentence it was quiet on the other end.

He didn't want to make you cry, but he was so tired and wanted to go back to sleep. "I'll eat what we already have." And with that, Jey hung up going back home.

When he got to the bedroom he saw you looking happy as you stuffed your face with food. He slid back in bed, finally going back to sleep.

Now you both were happy.

Solo Sikoa:

It was 1:00 in the morning when you woke up, craving something sweet, but salty. You called out your husband's name once and he rose up like Undertaker.

"Solo?" He was up, eyes locking onto your form. "Hm?" You hummed. "I really want something sweet and salty." You pouted, looking up at him through your lashes in hopes to somewhat seduce him to get out of bed and get your snack.

“What do you want? A snack or meal?" You shrugged your shoulders. "You choose for me, as long as it's-" Solo quickly joined in. "Sweet and salty, yeah, I know.” You both chuckled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and put on his shoes.

It was only 5 AM. This is usually his normal time to wake up for the gym, but because of WrestleMania, he was granted 2 weeks off along with the rest of his family.

He didn't have a single problem with going out at any time of night to get you something you and the baby craved for and he made sure you knew that.

Solo locked up the house and outside on the sidewalk all the way to the corner store. It's a good workout and it only takes him about 10 minutes to get there.

Solo instantly went to the chip section and picked up a bag of caramel popcorn. It was sweet, salty, and crunchy, all to which you would love right now. He picked up a couple of bags along with a drink and went to the counter and paid for it.

He did a small jog back home and met you with your awaited treats. "Got you some caramel popcorn and your favorite." You cheered, clapping your hands before pulling him in for a kiss. "Thank you, thank you, baby!" Solo smiled as he watched you open the bag and pop one in your mouth.

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