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cherry-leclerc · 1 year ago

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so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by london boy, taylor swift , so long, london, taylor swift !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

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dinogoofymutated · 11 months ago

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SFW!Colossus/Fem!Reader

I've been infected with another fictional man the way in which I pumped this out was ridiculous. I happened to re watch the scene in the movies where the government breaks into the mansion and seeing Piotr act like a big brother/dad to all the kids really got to me. That and the Deadpool movies (even though I thinks he's a little stuffy in those.) I even rewatched the episode he had in the animated series so that I knew I would get his character right and DAMN ugh god I juts have a thing for big men with soft hearts. especially the ones who are family oriented.

ALSO HOLY SHIT TY FOR 600 FOLLOWERS???? when did yall get here???? I swear I was at like 48 two weeks ago lmao time flies when you're thirsty for the X men I guess!! TWs: None? No pronouns mentioned but I went ahead and labeled it as fem because it's basically about kids forcefully adopting you as their mom. Kids having night terrors mentioned.

Can you imagine sort of just being adopted by the students at the mansion as mutant mom?? At that point you don't really get a choice. Like you start out being very patient with these kids and making sure to keep bandaids, burn cream, pain meds and all of that because one way or another something is gonna happen- and you want to be prepared.

And then you start making breakfast. I feel like normally they probably have a schedule for who has breakfast duty but if you wake up and can't go back to sleep and you take over no one really cares. More sleep for them!!

And then a few times turns into every morning. And you're setting out ketchup for one kids eggs and syrup for another ones hashbrowns- and making sure not to cook with nuts and make sure there's at least three different things on the table that are Kosher or gluten free. Keeping an eye on everyone as they come to get food and noting who did and did not make it to breakfast this morning so that you can make sure they eat later-

And one day you're waking up at 5am and getting ready for the day so you can go make breakfast like always, and you look in the mirror at some point and just realise, holy fuck, when did you become a parent?

It's such a regular thing for kids to call you mom at that point, a knowing how so many of them have come from rough backgrounds, it makes you really happy to know they find comfort in you and will come find you if they need comforting.

And then there's Piotr. Big, strong, Piotr. Piotr who wakes up before dawn and does chores around the mansion in the early morning air. You can take the man out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the man. He does the lawn care, chops wood, takes care of whatever animals that might need feeding, replaces the feed in the bird feeder.

Piotr who makes sure to stop by the kitchen to share a small cup of coffee with you before he does chores. Piotr who hangs Hummingbird feeders right outside the kitchen windows because you mentioned you missed the ones your grandmother used to hang. Just Piotr, being strong and masculine and an absolute sweetheart.

He reminds me of that one quote that heard somewhere about masculinity being about protecting femininity, not rejecting it??? That one!!!

Kids call him dad all the time, and even though yall aren't even together, you become the parents of the school. Scott and Jean?? Love them, but they don't have that same kind of parent energy.

It's such a regular thing for kids to find the two of you interacting one way or another. Someone woke up way too early and enters the kitchen to find yall during your coffee, and there's a sweet moment with yall telling them to go back to bed, or offering to make them a quick breakfast. Maybe if they're really young Piotr will offer to tuck them in. He might be really blunt when telling them there are no monsters, but will be a little more gentle when you set a hand on his arm and give him a bit of a look.

The kiddo asks for both of you to tuck them in and you obviously aren't going to refuse them. Which leads to everyone wanting both of you to tuck them in and soon enough you two are doing curfew checks instead of the professor.

It's becomes so regular for the students to treat you two as their parents, and no one actually believes it when they find out that no, you're not a couple. So, they do what kids do and try to get you two together.

First it starts with making sure you two are sat together during everything they can get away with. Then it moves on to things like mistletoe (out of season, Piotr mistook it as an accidental bloom made by one of the agrokinesis kids and took it down) and then more mischievous plans like telling one of you that the other needed help with one thing or another, knowing that either one of you would help out at the drop of a hat. Sureee, they were lying, but you two didn't know that. (most of the time)

The kids just want to see their parents happy and in love. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's not like You and Piotr hadn't been helplessly pining for the other the entire time anyway.

You sigh deeply once you finally sneak out of the dorm room, Piotr right behind you. The tall man takes extra care to shut the door very gently, making sure it clicks in place just as silently.

"I thought we were never going to get her to sleep." You whisper to him. One of the youngest girls attending the school had a rather difficult time with night terrors, and would struggle to fall asleep without being tucked in. When you and Piotr were doing curfew checks tonight, she was the only kiddo still awake, and she had practically begged both of you to stay with her untill she finally did fall asleep. It couldn't be just one of you, It had to be both. No matter how many rooms you both had to check tonight, you would never have left her shaken up in such a state. You just hadn't expected it to take an hour.

"Illyana had similar dreams as a little one. It takes time for children to overcome it." Piotr whispers back as you begin to walk down the hallway to check the rest of the rooms. Even when he whispers, his voice is strong and hard to keep quiet. You know there's truth to what he says, and yet you can't help but wish you could do something more to help her with her nightmares. You rub some warmth into your arms anxiously as you think about it, surprised when you feel the warm weight of Piotr's hand settle in between your shoulder blades.

"You're worrying again." He states, frowning slightly when you look up at him. You send him a resigned smile, before it quickly falls as you look away.

"I can't help it. I worry about all of them, her especially. They just... deserve so much more than their lot in life." You say. Piotr hums in response, his thumb brushing idly against your back.

"Their life like us, you mean? Mutants?" His question makes you wince.

"No. Yes? I don't know. I just... I just wish that we could give them more than... this." You say, waving your hands to motion about the mansion. "The school might very well be the only safe space they have their entire life. The world hasn't been kind to them, and I'm not sure it ever will be." Your words begin to quiet down as you finish the sentence, lowing to a whisper that only he can hear. You'd never, ever want any of these kids hear a word of what you're saying. Knowing that hope is really all they have at their age, and you of all people refuse to be the one to destroy that beautiful childlike optimism.

"That is what we are working for as the X-men, yes? To change that?" Piotr asks you point blank, his hand moving up towards the back of your neck in a soothing manner that still gives you goosebumps, feeling the comforting heat of his hand even stronger than before.

"Yeah, but..."

"Then we are doing all we can." He finishes, a smile on his face that's so determined and confident that it very nearly changes your mind completely. Nonetheless, it's a reassuring smile that makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy. You smile back at him finally, and you swear you see fondness in his eyes.

It doesn't take long before the two of you are finally at your door. You give Piotr a short and sweet goodnight as you begin to step inside, but he stops you before you go, gently catching hold of your arm. For the first time, you think you've seen him debate on his words. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak at first, and you swear you see a blush rising to his cheeks as he does so.

"You'd make a good mother." He says eventually, and it makes you smile widely.

"You'd make a good dad." You tell him. There's silence between you as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face in a fond and caring manner, and you swear you could trick yourself into believing that you and Piotr were already in domestic bliss if this moment goes on for any longer. The tall man leans in, and you find your mind short circuiting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. The simple action somehow leaving you beyond flustered.

"Sleep well, Любовь моя. I will see you in the morning." Piotr tells you, before walking off at his regular stiff pace. You stand in your doorway for a minute, watching him leave with a bit of a confused smile on your face. Out of all the Russian nicknames he's called you in the past, you had never heard him say that one before. You wonder if you should pick up a book on the language as you close your door and finally crawl into bed, although part of you is content to leave it be. Colossus had always been blunt, and you're sure he'd tell you eventually. You fall asleep just as you always do, excited to see him when you wake up in the morning.

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ║ ❝𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞❞

(A/n) ➳ First chapter!! I straight up need lessons on how people flirt because I fought and I still think the flirting is VERY TERRIBLE so be warned. Enjoy!!

Word Count ➳ 2.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Talks of having children/marriage, pregnancy, alcohol use (Not drunk), TERRIBLE FLIRTING, public bathroom sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), pet names (darlin’) swearing, nearly getting caught, mentions of violence…

JUDAS MASTERLIST

THE CLOCK HAD STRUCK ELEVEN IN THE MORNING.

Your hands come under the hot water for a second before yanking them back in pain, a wince had left your lips and sighed. You turned the handle on the sink to the right, waiting a couple of seconds before you put your hand under the water again.

This time, the water became warm. You picked up the soapy and water logged sponge to continue cleaning the white plates that were covered in syrup from this morning, just two hours ago.

Shane was the first to come to your apartment, like usual. He helped you with setting up the table, cooking the sausages and eggs while you handled the pancakes and hashbrowns.

Rick, Lori, and Carl came next. Carl ran past you before you could even acknowledge it was them, he happily shouted for the pancakes and was a little disappointed. But as soon as he was picked up by Shane and put on his shoulders, his laughter filled your small apartment.

“The hashbrowns just need a couple more minutes.”

You remembered saying, letting them in and helping Lori as she was obviously pregnant. Around thirty four weeks.

“Just a couple more weeks.” She let out a groan as she was able to take off her shoes. “Then we’ll have this little sucker out of me.”

Lori and Rick agreed to keep the gender a secret, not even they know since they had already agreed on names as well.

Isabella for a girl and Liam for a boy.

You took her sweater and hung it on the coat rack. Rick had begun to pour juice into the glass cups, making sure Carl didn’t knock them over when he threw himself at the chair.

“Carefully buddy.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes are comin’ in!” You hurriedly walked in with the hot pan in one hand and a stack of pancakes in the other, Shane was right behind you with the plates of scrambled eggs and cooked sausages.

That was just two hours ago.

Now, Carl was by your side, standing on a step stood with a damp rag in hand. He took each plate that you handed to him, wiping them down and carefully putting them in the dish rack.

Shane walked back to the table where Rick and Lori were still sitting, he watched as Lori tried to stifle her giggle, covering her mouth as her giggling became louder as Shane came into her view.

Shane, gathering the last few cups, asked with a grin. “What are you two scheming now?”

“Oh you know, the pregnancy, the hospital plan, and us-” Lori leaned in closer, whispering. “-Deciding when you’re going to ask (Y/n) out?”

He took a glance back at you, still focused on the dishes. “One day Lori. One day.”

“It’s been five years, I’m tired of your whinin’.” Rick retorted, leaning back in the chair and throwing an arm back.

“Where are the cups Shane?” You called out to him. “And what are y’all whisperin’ about?”

Shane went to tell Lori to hush but she spoke first, speaking over him. “That you guys make the perfect couple!” She slowly stood from her chair and made her way over to you. “A perfect marriage with kids running around, y’know?” Lori teased you.

You exchanged a quick looked with Carl who just looked back at you with curiosity. He couldn’t feel your discomfort.

“Well… I-I don’t know.” You hesitated, trying to avoid the question and find the right words.

“They do seem perfect for each other.” Rick commented.

“Can’t you imagine it?” Lori added. “A cozy home, kids playin’ in the yard with our kids. Sounds like a dream.”

You forced a smile when everyone turned to you, hiding your uncertainty. Sure, Shane was attractive, anyone would die to be with a man like him.

But settling down, marriage and having kids just didn’t sit right with you. You preferred excitement in your life, just like your high school life. Not knowing what was going to happen next, the unpredictability in your life made it even better.

Shane noticed your silence, he placed the cups in the sink and nudged you. “You alright?” He murmured to you, ignoring Rick and Lori’s conversation.

You took a couple of seconds before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, just thinkin’ about high school.”

“Feelin’ nostalgic?”

“I am.”

But Shane could sense the discomfort in your voice, something he didn’t want, you being uncomfortable around him.

“Don’t listen to ‘em. They’re jus’ jokin’.” He flashed a smile.

You poured soap on the sponge and gave it a squeeze, starting on the outside of the glass before going inside of the cup.

“Maybe Lori and Rick are right. You and me, might be somethin’ special.” He said, a playful tone clear in his voice.

You kept the same smile on as before. “You know how they are. Tryin’ to play matchmaker.”

“They could be onto somethin’. We’d make pretty good parents.”

“Look Shane, I’m not really sure about all that. Can’t we talk about it some other time?”

He adjusted his stance, now crossing his arms. “Alright, alright.”

“Did he really say that?” Andrea questioned you, wide eyed as she handed you a glass of wine that Amy poured you.

“I still can’t get it out of my head.”

“What did you say?”

You brought the wine to your lips, giving it a swirl before taking a sip of it. “I said if we can talk about it some other time.”

Amy clicked her tongue a couple of times. “Should’ve made it clear from the start.”

The three of you sat on your couch, a movie played in the background, something about an assassin in retirement but it was long forgotten when Amy noticed you couldn’t focus on the movie.

You bit your lip, setting your glass down next to you. “I know, I know. But it felt like I couldn’t.”

Andrea stood up abruptly, stopping Amy from replying. “You can’t be drinkin’ all night. We’re goin’ out.” She stated proudly, hands on her hips as a wide smile spread across her lips. “Get dressed (Y/n), we’re hittin’ Atlanta!”

You opened your mouth but Andrea put her hand in your face. “No arguments.” She marched into your room, with you and Amy following, Andrea was rummaging through your clothes. “Even if it’s just for a couple of hours, you need this.”

Amy joined in with Andrea, looking through your drawers. “A night of fun and-” Pulling out a pair of matching bra and underwear. “Pleasure~”

Once you were all dressed up, Andrea drove you all to the club that Amy once went to, commenting on the amount of men who rode motorcycles.

And she was right, motorcycle upon motorcycle lined up in the front of the club. You all excited the car in laughter and nervousness.

“How’s my makeup?” Amy asked, looking at herself in the car’s mirror. “Shit, I think my eyeliner is uneven.”

Andrea pulled her by her arm, “Who cares? We’re here to have fun!”

You all entered the club with ease, you all were immediately crowded. After all it was a saturday night, drinks were flowing and music blasted loudly that you could barely hear yourself.

But you all remained together as you drank, except Andrea as she was the driver. But that didn’t stop her from having fun with you.

She practically forced you onto the dance floor after a couple of drinks as she thought it would help and it surely did.

Blinded by the flash on Amy’s phone, she recorded you all dancing and screaming your lungs out on the song that played.

You definitely needed to listen to the sisters more cause this was a night you needed, it wasn’t like morning brunch with the four of them.

You felt that familiar excitement in your veins, and your body dancing on its own… You didn’t consume many drinks, maybe because you wanted to remember this night, not by videos and photos, but by your own memory.

You laughed as Andrea helped you move to the calmer side of the club as she recognized your tiredness.

“Never knew you could pull those moves!” She shouted over the music, leaning close to you.

“Neither did I!” You threw your head back, snickering. “Can you order me some water?!”

“What?!”

“Water!”

“Okay!” She turned her back to you and faced the bartender.

You panted, trying to catch your breath. You felt your phone vibrating and pulled it out, seeing a call from Shane.

It was like the music went silent, everything around you froze as you stared at his name… You watched it ring, his name on big on the screen.

You looked up from your phone to call for Amy or Andrea but you spotted someone else.

A man with a black leather jacket. ‘JUDAS’ was printed on his back in white lettering with white dots circling the name and the skull and bones.

He sat alone, a drink in his gloved hand. Black sunglasses rested next to his arm and a black and white bandana was wrapped around his neck.

“Water!” Andrea’s booming voice knocked you out of your stare, taking the water, Andrea noticed you’re staring and immediately found who you were looking at.

“Think he’s in a band?” Amy laid her head on your shoulder.

“No way, looks too gloomy to be in a band.” Andrea retorted. “Nice clothes though.”

You dismissed both of them. “Leave him alone.”

“Alone? Girl, he looks like your type! Go for it!” Amy scoffed and pushed you.

You shoved your phone back into your purse and walked towards him, glass of water in hand. If the drinks gave you confidence to dance, surely it will help now.

You took the empty seat across from his and crossed your legs, one over the other. “Cool jacket.” You complimented. “Where’d you get it from?”

He eyed you for a moment before he looked away. “Ain’t yer business.”

That caught you off your guard… “Must be a tale worth tellin’ or you just like scarin’ people.”

“A very long and winded tale. And scarin’ folks… There’s more than one way to scare somebody than usin’ a jacket.”

“I ain’t easily scared. Makes it more fun.”

“What’s so fun ‘bout some jacket?”

You shrugged. “Maybe it’s the challenge of findin’ out who you are.”

He clicked his tongue, setting down his drink. “Ain’t gonna be easy darlin’.”

You leaned in closer. “Good thing I like challenges.”

(May I have some tips on flirting, please. I’m very desperate…)

“Fuck!”

You and Daryl didn’t waste time when he brought you to the bathroom of the club. He hiked up your dress and ripped your underwear off you, not without commenting on the choice first.

You threw your head back, your legs tightened around Daryl’s waist.

He had you pushed up against the wall, his face shoved into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses.

He desperately thrusted into you, breathing heavily. He fucked you up against the bathroom stall.

Both of his hands held your ass, leaving you to cling onto him.

You were left stuttering over your words. “Like that.” You said, over and over again. “Just like that! God, just like that!”

For a second, your breathing stopped and you froze, your eyes immediately shut as you came around his cock.

Yet you didn’t complain when he still continued fucking you. You felt a smile form as he fucked you past your orgasm.

“Ya gotta keep quiet.” Daryl panted in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your back. The music was still loud, even in the bathroom.

You tried but his cock kept slamming into your g-spot. You were unable to contain your gasps and moans.

“Shut up dammit.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry ain’t good enough.”

You shoved your face into his shoulder, feeling the leather of his jacket, smelling his cologne and cigarettes.

He didn’t stop nor slow down, thrusting into you like his life depended on it, using you as a stress relief.

You felt the same coil once again, feeling it throb, pooling in your abdomen.

“Imma-!”

“(Y/n)?!”

You were dragged out of your daze and pulled away from him, nearly falling in the process. “The hell?” Daryl luckily caught you.

But you hushed him, slipping your flimsy underwear back on.

It was Amy. “(Y/n)? Andrea said she saw you comin’ in here.” You heard her footsteps coming closer to the stall you were in.

“Stay here.” You mumbled to him, soothing your dress and coming out of the stall before she could reach it.

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, I thought you were dead when Andrea said she saw you comin’ in here with the guy.” She looked over your shoulder. “Where is he?”

“Um, we talked and I… I got his number.” You lied, still trying to reel back.

“Really?! Oh my god! You gotta tell us!” She grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the bathroom. “We’re headin’ home!”

“What? Why?”

“Andrea, punched a guy.”

“Is she okay?!”

“Oh yeah!” Amy smiled and pointed to Andrea who was waiting by the exit. “Let’s go home!”

You closed the door behind you, Andrea dropped you off since she had to get Amy home quickly, she had a feeling she was going to vomit.

You kicked off your heels, sighing and your feet felt the relief of no longer wearing those heels.

You began to take off your earrings and walked to your bedroom when you heard knocking.

You carefully came to the door and slowly opened it, having a clear confused look on your face. Even more when Daryl stood there.

You looked around first before coming back to him. “...How did you find where I live?”

Daryl held up a bag, your bag. “Left it in the bathroom. Ran out ‘fore I could say anythin’.”

You took the bag, still wary. “Well, thanks. But how did you know where to go?”

Daryl shrugged, a relaxed expression on his face. “Saw yer ID. Figured it ain’t far.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Stalker tendencies, Daryl?”

“Just lookin’ out for a damsel in distress.”

You giggled. “I’m sure losing my bag ain’t bein’ in distress, but points for effort.”

“I’ll be in town for a couple months, see ya ‘round?”

“You wanna come in for a bit? I gotta thank you for gettin’ my bag.”

“Ya gonna run off again?”

“Maybe.”

Daryl stepped closer. “Maybe?” He grinned again.

You grabbed his hand and led him into your apartment and shut the door before. You didn’t have a second to react before he was already on you.

This was definitely a night you did not fucking regret.

Taglist ➳ @deansapplepie , @ladylincoln , @gamingfeline , @lady06reaper , @alanamarie , @daryldixmedown ,

» » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 2 ⊰

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lunarw0rks · 2 years ago

Note

everybody sitting at the breakfast table watching könig swallow down something in five minutes that took you almost an hour to make like //:

könig has like two giant plates to himself; eggs, waffles, ham/bacon, hashbrowns, and a green smoothie !!!

he'll work most of it off, obviously. and a man of his stature needs to EAT. but goddamn. should you be offended or impressed? i'm not sure either.

and the big mf just inhales it?? hello sir?? mister colonel !!! me next

#könig headcanons #könig x reader #könig x you #könig mwii #konig x reader #konig headcanons #kortac operators #kortac #mw2 #call of duty #rachel speaks #not writing

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xfiddlin-fishsticsx · 1 year ago

Text

Everywhere, Everything

DPxDC

Danny looked up at the door in front of him with dread and nearly considered turning back when an image flashed through his head to remind him why he was here.

He was staring down the barrel of a bulky silver gun at a faceless woman with short red hair. Her finger moved and Danny squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing it play out again.

After calming himself down he returned his thoughts to the door, shaky and completely ready to run at the first signs of plotting, he rings the doorbell.

After a few moments he can hear clamoring and footsteps before they stop right in front of the door, several locks click and Vlad finally opened the door to an exhausted, tense, somewhat crying Danny Fenton.

Vlad only let his surprise show for a moment before it turned to honest concern as he ushered him inside, he sat Danny down in a cozy sitting room and disappeared into what could only be the kitchen.

Vlad returned a moment later with two steaming mugs, he set one in front of Danny before standing above him and staring down.

Danny hesitantly looks up at Vlad, screwing his face up to portray his confusion. Vlad gave him that squinty, sort of pouty concern again before signing and kneeling down to look Danny in the eye.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

Danny shook his head, “Not hurt. Just tired” and lost.

Vlad studied him, obviously looking for a lie, before huffing slightly and standing up again upon finding no tells that it wasn’t the truth, he moved and sat carefully next to Danny, gently setting his own mug down beside the boy’s and turning to look at him.

Danny looked back. Vlad sighed, “I’m not going to hurt you, little badger, I promise you’ll be safe here”

He spoke softly and though Danny should know better he couldn’t help but trust it. He felt his exhaustion catching up, and all of his anxiety and … slowing down and suddenly he was just tired. And sad.

He felt his chest heave and tears start slipping down his face as Vlad reached out to him.

Hesitantly the man put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer when Danny leaned into it. Danny sobbed against him for a while until he wore himself out and Vlad guided him to a room. He promptly passed out on the bed, tears drying slowly. He slept all night for the first time in who knows how long.

——————————

Danny woke up sore and still tired, he slowly came back to awareness and barely avoided panic as everything registered.

He slowly dragged himself out of the bed and to the bathroom to wash his face. Once he felt more awake and clean he slipped out of the room and down the hall to the stairs.

He found the kitchen and consequently Vlad in the kitchen, he only hoped the man was better at cooking than his— the Fentons as he watched him stir something on the stove.

As Danny inched further into the room Vlad caught onto his presence and slowly turned to face him with a soft smile.

Danny looked up at him owlishly as Vlad used his head to gesture Danny to the seats at the counter before returning to the pan.

Danny slunk to the counter and sat down, fiddling with his sleeves and zoning out on the nice countertops.

Soon Vlad was playing food and setting it down in front of him, slowly sliding it into his field of vision. Danny’s eyes refocused to a plate of warm food, a fried egg, hashbrowns and toast.

He slowly sat up and reached for the utensils placed with it as Vlad took a seat next to him with a similar plate and a mug of coffee.

They ate in silence and Vlad directed him to the game/tv room before he left for work.

It was nice, peaceful. Vlad told him not to worry about ghosts for a bit. It stressed Danny out to no end but he was still happy to take the break.

At some point he had made his way back to his room for a nap. It was warm and quiet and he was so so tired.

——————————

One month later

It had been a month since Danny had run to Vlad and Danny has been 18 for two weeks now which meant his parents couldn’t touch him.

Vlad had taken him (and the cops) to go get what he wanted from the Fenton house, luckily they hadn’t been home. They had been trying to reach him though, claiming they missed their son, they missed him alright, or Danny wouldn’t be nearly as whole as he is.

So now he had his things. And his life. And a guaranteed room in Vlad’s mansion and his castle in Wisconsin.

Vlad had pulled him out of school for his last semester so he could try and catch up online a little bit before graduation. Which meant he didn’t really see Sam and Tuck anymore but they met up when they could and called.

Danny and Vlad had been in Wisconsin for a few weeks now, they were both in need of a break so they left Amity, Red had it covered and Danny had been somewhat succeeding in moderating the ghosts so only smaller animals and less destructive beings slipped through without permission.

Danny took a deep breath as he finished up the last of his school work for the week, now that he has time and could work at his own pace he was excelling.

He was on track to graduate early (though he wouldn’t) and he had started taking some preliminary college courses in his free time as well, which he had a lot of.

Danny was thriving.

Vlad knocked on his door.

“Hey, we’re going to a thing this weekend, we both need to get out of the house— err castle.”

Danny snickered, he did feel cooped up though, “what’s the thing? And where?”

“We’re going whether—“ He began “no I know, just curious.”

“Ah, ok, it’s a business party of sorts, for networking and all such efforts, it will be in Chicago I think, or was it Gotham…?”

“Uhh that’s a pretty big difference in location, and an important distinction, I’m down to hit up the crown city of crime but I’d like to be prepared first thank you.” Danny chuckled

Vlad hummed before he came to his final decision, “I think it must be Chicago, I would have remembered for sure if it was Gotham, I shall check nonetheless but I’m nearly 90% certain it’s Chicago. I’ll be right back,” was the last thing Vlad declared as he turned back out of Danny’s room and left to find a device with whatever email or such he had received about it.

Danny laughed to himself at the man’s antics before he got back, he considered the idea of the event more, a rich people ‘networking’ party. Mannn that sounds like a blast he thought sarcastically.

Was he gonna have to wear a suit??

Before he could think anymore Vlad reappeared with his phone and a tablet open looking through it.

“Ah here we go,” he muttered to himself before looking back at Danny, “it’s Chicago, it’s more of a rich people event than business, and it sounds like some younger people have been invited, so maybe some kids around your age…” he trailed off as he scrolled through more, Danny just gave him a look,

“I’m not technically a kid anymore.”

“Hush…it’s formal attire, we’ll have to get you a suit, I’ll take you to my tailor and pick you something nice…there will be food and refreshments but no full meal, good that means we won’t be forced to sit at a table and eat with a bunch of people…”

He trailed off again as he kept looking through it. He hummed softly as he took in information and Danny grabbed his phone as he felt it buzz

Sammy Wammy ;3

Sam

Hey can you call rn?

Danny

Give me a minute

Vlad and I are discussing stuff

Sam

Ok cool text me when ur good!

Danny

Will Do! <33

He quickly texted Sam back as Vlad started talking again

“I just got a flight set up, the gala is on Saturday evening but our flight is Friday morning, we’ll get there and have some extra time to recover before hand… the hotel is provided with the invite so it’s easy and close, I already put in for our room so all we have to do is check in on Friday when we get there…”

He hummed as he looked over what Danny assumed to be either a checklist or just notes, “you should start packing either tonight or tomorrow, I’ll call my tailor and we can go in tomorrow so start thinking about what you want, I’ll help you with that in a moment, I have some thoughts on color and style to suggest but ultimately Jacie will help tomorrow as well…we’ll get shoes and accessories then as well so for now…”

He looked through the list again, a slight furrow in his eyebrows as he went through what they needed to do in the next two days before the trip

“Hum, I think those are the biggest points, I’m not too concerned about your manners or anything, just be you and the rich people can suck it if they’re miffed,” Danny sputtered, “you know you’re a rich person too right? You fit right in with all those gala folks…”

Vlad turned a look on him, “that doesn’t mean I have to like them, or like myself for that matter, I despise these events becuase of the image I am forced to portray, you, my young, vulnerable Danny, have no image to your name yet, that means you have complete freedom this weekend, I’d prefer you be respectful and not drag my name but if you do something foolish I will not hesitate to verbally disown you in the face of the situation.”

Danny laughed again, it felt good, had he not been laughing before? “Honestly that’s fair, I won’t do anything stupid though, I’d rather not have a bunch of pissed off rich people on my ass.”

Vlad nodded approvingly before double checking the list, “ah do you have your work done for the week yet?”

“Yep, just finished up before you came in”

“Even your prep work for the college classes?”

“Yep!”

Vlad studied him for a moment, before smiling and nodding, “good, keep that up and you’ll get somewhere with it, I want better for you Danny, you deserve to get further than I ever did, and further away from those bast—“

His eyes glowed a bit as he cut himself off with a snarl, Danny gave him a sad look, he appreciated the anger, honestly, it was nice having someone aside from Sam or Tuck getting angry on his behalf, it was even better having Vlad do it and still stay in control so easily, Danny had stopped getting angry after meeting Dan, the fear of what he might become worse than any rage he felt.

Even though he knew deep down it couldn’t happen again already, he was here with Vlad and he had yet to feel bad enough to ask for half of him to be removed (like a coward) besides, Danny’s Vlad would never agree to such a thing, in fact Danny had made him swear he wouldn’t ever let Danny do that, and he had promised, even though he was confused.

Vlad walked around his bed to pat his shoulder and Danny initiated a loose hug, he appreciated that too, Vlad let him initiate everything and he respected his boundaries so well too. It was nice having someone who acknowledged that he didn’t always want to talk or be touched.

Vlad had made a lot of progress towards redemption in the last couple of years, even more so in the last month, Danny was proud of him, and thankful for the dedication to be better for him

———————

Another snippet! This one I already have a couple more chapters written for and a very clear storyline set out, this will be a full fic! This is like half of the first chapter which is posted in full on my Ao3 (linked above!) the fic is linked below!

It’s a spirit Halloween fic in which Bruce and Danny become infamous business “rivals” when they’re actually making out in bathrooms and closets bts

Secret relationship and fake rivals, strangers to lovers to strangers back to lovers again. They meet before bruce leaves to train and again when he returns and Danny opens up shop…

#dp x dc #danny phantom fics #rivals to lovers #fake rivals #secret relationship #Vlad redemption #spirit halloween #danny phantom #batman #batfam #tw: weapons #tw: abuse #just at the very very beginning #and it’s not intense at all #fluff #lots of fluff #Danny Fenton x Bruce Wayne #bruce wayne x danny fenton

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wrangleandtame · 8 months ago

Text

Here’s yet another Tyler x Kate fic - can’t stop myself ♥️🌪️

ANNUAL DERECHO

Kate’s anger came in tractable forms Tyler had easily categorized during their three months together. Most frequently when Tyler pissed her off, he’d easily disarm her with his warm charm or an earnest declaration. Occasionally, her quiet melancholy could metastasize into a subtle ire that she contained by seeking solitude. He knew this, and gave her the space she required to shake it off. These were rare occurrences, though, within her generally sunny and energetic mien.

For the last week, the team found themselves particularly unlucky in their weather chasing within Texas, resulting in tension and general unease. Kate never appeared perturbed by the losses, often taking to the radio with optimistic little comments: “Can’t wrangle them all.” “It’ll happen.” “Just a dry spell.” Tyler marveled at how a few encouraging words from Kate could reset the entire team’s attitude.

Today was different. She awoke with a biting choler dripping from each syllable. Simple questions, she met with curt monosyllabic answers, and avoided eye contact (her tell.) She busied herself with mundane tasks, anything it seemed, to avoid inertia.

He’d placed a hand on her back, and she’d bristled. She swerved to avoid his kiss, like she was dodging a fastball. The lightest physical affection she pulled from as though her skin burned from his touch.

His breakfast-loving Kate, who normally stacked hashbrowns and eggs into weird towers before consuming, who stuffed whole pancakes and sausages into a baggie “for later,” she’d say when rushed, today couldn’t be bothered to eat. Weather didn’t dictate rushing this morning, but she’d ordered only toast and coffee for breakfast, consuming a single bite of toast and three sips of black coffee (she preferred it sweet and creamy) before the scrutiny of his eyes upon her proved too much.

She’d mumbled, “not hungry, I’ve got to…” She’d stood up and left without finishing her sentence.

When he’d joined her in the truck (why wasn’t she sitting outside? The truck had to be moving for Kate to be happy within it.) she’d turned her knees away from him and dug through her bag, never finding what she sought.

Kate’s body broadcast her feelings better than words, something anyone with eyes could discern. Her shoulders lifted and tight, her jaw muscles clenched, she continued hunching over her computer, scowling at the screen. Every part of her looked wound tight, her countenance like a rubber band pulled to snapping.

He watched her face press into frustration while she typed furiously, pausing to pull out her tablet and only became further irritated with whatever she read.

“Stop staring at me,” she grumbled.

“You’re too damn pretty Kate; what the hell am I supposed to do? Like tellin’ someone to quit lookin’ at a sunrise.”

She didn’t respond with words, but her face momentarily transmuted from annoyance to a contemplative doleful expression. If he was reading her right, and he knew he was, guilt and regret had a hand in whatever was so obviously plaguing her.

“Something you want to talk about?” The bait probably too big for the hook, but he cast the line anyway.

“Like what?” She bit out, not raising her eyes from her screen.

“Weather? Politics?” She flinched at his words as though he yelled them through a bullhorn.

When she didn’t respond, he sighed quietly and said, “Just gonna check in with Dani and Dexter. If you need me, I’ll be across the lot.”

Her response was a terse nod again devoid of visual connection.

He whipped out a folding chair positioning himself next to Dani and Dexter; though his open laptop perched upon his denimed knees, his eyes barely left Kate’s form.

“She okay?” Dani asked, concern in her voice.

He gave her a brief reassuring smile, “She will be, but no, not right now she’s not.”

She didn’t require more of an explanation, and neither had Dexter, thankfully. Lily and Boone had driven into Galveston to pick up a part for the drone, relieving Tyler of the type of questions and interaction Boone would require given Kate’s behavior.

Several hours passed, and they asked little from Tyler. Instead, Dexter and Dani passed between them Doppler updates, snacks and weather chaser gossip as they reviewed disappointing projections.

When Javi’s truck pulled into the parking lot, Tyler straightened in surprise.

“Hey, thought Javi was in Galveston too,” Dani noticed. “Isn’t he supposed to be meeting with those fellas at NWS in Fort Worth?” Dexter asked.

“Far as I know,” Tyler murmured.

Javi parked near Tyler’s truck, hopped out and made a beeline for Kate. She glanced up, and an emotion Tyler couldn’t identify crossed her face.

She immediately shoved her tech aside, clambered out of the truck and briskly walked to Javi; when they reached each other, they hugged fiercely. Tyler could see her shoulders began shaking the way they did when she cried. She was fucking crying.

Tyler stood, started for them, and then stopped. Despite all of his instincts screaming to comfort her, he sat back down. Whatever the hell was going on between them, Tyler’s presence wasn’t needed, and he reminded himself to respect her boundaries. This did not come naturally to Tyler. He possessed a proclivity for protectiveness to the point of being downright territorial, though he hid it well, he thought. Thankfully, his desire to honor Kate’s wishes overrode any possessiveness that reared its very unattractive head.

Dexter patted him on the back, and quietly praised him, “well done.” Maybe he didn’t hide it that well.

It upset him to think on how all morning she had sternly rebuked his every attempt at connection, but Javi just appeared, and they were having this moment together.

Within this mounting frustration, an epiphany struck Tyler, and he whispered, “I’m an idiot.”

“What’s that?” Dani asked.

“Nothing,” he responded, his thoughts swirling with the formation of a plausible hypothesis for Kate’s mood, and Javi’s presence.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, Tyler studied their interaction for confirmation. Javi’s eyes were closed, but even from here, Tyler could see several rogue tears escape down his face. He said something, Tyler could see his mouth moving, and Kate pulled back a bit from Javi’s embrace, wiping roughly at her eyes and nose.

They continued to talk, Kate’s arms folded around herself as they did, and then to Tyler’s great relief, she half-smiled. Javi laughed lightly and Kate nodded. Javi pulled napkins from his pocket and handed half of them to Kate. She blew her nose, and he blew his, and they laughed again. Not joyous laughing, but still, it wasn’t crying.

Javi stuffed his napkins in his pocket and pointed at his truck. They hugged again quickly, Kate smiled wistfully, and Javi jogged back towards his truck. He caught Tyler’s eye, and with a subtle dip of his head offered a wordless greeting. Tyler returned it with a smile.

When Tyler tried to locate Kate again, she was walking quickly towards the convenience store across the street.

Tyler sauntered back over to his truck to wait for her to return and checked his phone, confirming his theory. Sure enough, on the same date, five years ago, an EF5 tornado ended the lives of Kate and Javi’s friends. He pulled open his phone’s calendar and typed: “Anniversary of Kate’s Tornado” and set it to a yearly reminder.

Kate exited the convenience store, and as she closed the distance between them, he smiled, “Hungry yet?”

She shook her head, and handed him a peace offering bottle of cold tea, “I’m sorry. I’ve been such a complete asshole today. I didn’t mean to - “

“S’okay Kate,” he smiled.

“It’s not. I’ve been awful to you.”

“You’re entitled to have a bad day every once in awhile.”

“Sure, but…I took it out on you,” she looked at the gravel and then up at him (finally! Prolonged eye contact!), her glassy eyes red-rimmed.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Ever,” she sniffed. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me?”

“Nothin’ to forgive,” he smiled softly. “Be alright if I hold you a minute?”

Unshed tears made her dusky sienna eyes sparkle, “Yes. Please.”

She leaned into his chest and he clutched her to him, one arm around her waist and one drawing her head closer. He kissed her head and stroked her hair. She unconsciously grabbed a fistful of his soft brown shirt like she was keeping him from pulling away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and he wondered if she was apologizing to some ghosts as well.

“It’s alright, honey. I can take it,” he kissed the top of her head again, and pulled her against him even tighter. He ran his thumb along her spine up and down slowly, “it’s alright.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

AUTHOR’s NOTE: thank you to this beautiful fandom for all of your encouraging feedback. The dopamine hits from your comments is giving me life.

Was thinking of doing another chapter of this one from Kate’s perspective of the day. What do you think? Move on?

Am also working on two other Kate x Tyler fics - obsessed is an understatement.

#twisters #daisy edgar jones #kate carter #glen powell #tyler x kate #tyler owens #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #twisters fanfiction #Tyler x Kate fanfiction #kate x tyler

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desolateyears · 2 years ago

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found family trope+Robin Steve n Eddie's first sleepover 🖤 wc:1k :))

Steve loves sleepovers. Getting cozy and watching movies all night, sharing beds, waking up in the morning with bed head and trailing into the kitchen to make breakfast.

Those days kind of dwindled the older Tommy and him got. When the neighorhood boys and girls he played with became older and meaner. Sleepovers weren't fun especially when you could party instead, obviously.

Sleepovers turned into people passing out on his couch because they got too drunk, that's the closest he ever got once he finished middle school.

And he can't blame them really. People grow up and he grew up right along with them. Doesn’t mean he doesn't miss it though.

He kind of resigned himself to never having those kind of warm mornings and the closeness and vulnerability that those mornings came with.

Of course, until he meets Robin and Eddie.

He's never had friends like them that want to hang out All of the time. And he wants to do the same. He never gets tired of being around them, even if he bitches and moans when they both bully him and he threatens to throw them out on the street.

His house is the easiest to hang out at. They have had hang outs at Robin's and Eddie's but it's not the same as Steve's. When he outgrew his childhood bedroom his parents moved him to the basement. So on the rare occasion that they are home, they don't care if he has people over anyway. He has the whole basement to himself.

There's something special about the basement too. It's the first place thats he's made his. He's proud of himself for transforming what used to be a damp concrete basement into something comfortable and styled exactly how he wants it to be. Not only that, but he can see the physical evidence of the mark that his friends have left on his basement, too. That’s why it's special.

Eddie's books lay on the the trashy coffee table they found on the side of the road. Robin's doodles cover the table and other various surfaces, like the walls, the floor, some on his shoes so that they match hers. Eddie's numerous buttons that he's gifted Steve, studs and spikes that Steve always manages to step on too. The only solid black that colors the basement is the billions of pieces of clothing Eddie leaves draped on the couch, a lampshade or two, always surrounding his bed on the floor.

They're always making art together. Steve has like zero artisitc capability, but that doesn't stop him because Robin and Eddie only encourage. They paint and decorate everything and get acrylic paint in each other's hair and wrestle each other like they're little kids. The walls have become a collage of stupid art they put there when they're all high off their asses.

They make room for things to blossom. They make safety and home. They smoke and drink and pass out sprawled on top of each other. They talk while they pee and teasingly push each other while they brush teeth in the morning. There's tampons in the bathroom just for Robin. There's a pile of records that he never listens to unless he's here that are just for Eddie. There's all of these things here that make the basement Steve's but also Theirs.

And the best time is when his parents are gone and they make the upstairs theirs too.

His first sleepover with them is one that he's not ever going to forget.

When Robin and Eddie cook and Steve just watches. Loves how they just know where everything is after months of spending time in his house and how they move around each other expertly. How the early and warm sunlight shows the bright blonde highlights in Robin's hair. And when the light catches Eddie's eyes just right, there are hints of light browns and greens.

They're all in pajamas, both sets from Steve's own wardrobe, and his heart clenches fiercly at the sight.

They make chocalate chip pancakes and hashbrowns and bacon. The smell hits his nose and triggers something nostalgic in Steve's brain.

While they can work in tandem, though, that's not without the mess, no sir. Pancake batter splatters across tabletops and faces. Eddie licks the spatula and Robin yells at him to 'stop it!' In retaliation he licks her face and she shouts a loud, 'EDWARD MUNSON! If you like being part of the land of the living, you better fucking stop.' And she rips the spatula away from him and points it toward him like it's a sharp knife and not something made out of rubber.

Steve laughs so fucking hard that his sides hurt and he has to rest his head against the marble counterop and bang his fists against it and tears spring from his eyes and Eddie tells him to 'stay out of it Steve!'

And Steve responds with 'I love you'.

It's directed to both of them and they know.

They make it easy to say, to openly declare love when before them he always kept it all under wraps.

And they say they love him too.

And he tells them, 'I think this is the most content I've felt since I was a kid.'

Robin and Eddie pass glances to each other and then look back at him, matching soft smiles just for Steve.

Right as Eddie begins to open his mouth to probably give him some sweet and kind response back, Robin cuts him off with a, 'You just want a family Steve.' And it's not meant to be a dig, just an astute, albeit teasing, observation.

And Steve becomes aghast, inhales, 'Okay I take it back. I only love Eddie.'

'Yeah Buckley, take that.' And Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

Jesus, way to read him like a fucking book.

It doesn't...hurt. It's just a little scary to be shown once more that he's so bare in front of these people. And also how Robin always makes him get introspective, which it's way too early to fucking do, thanks Robin.

She's not wrong though.

He does want that. Had naive ideas of what that looked like not that long ago but once he realizes, he gets hit with a force that almost knocks him out of his chair.

He does have a family.

For the first time, he has a family. It wasn’t how he always pictured but that’s what it feels like anyhow.

He feels home.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #ficlet #stranger things fic #robin buckley #stobin #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #my writing

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talanashta · 7 months ago

Text

Thursday Morning

For this prompt ("school days") for the Four or More Fic-a-thon @fourormore

Continuation of the "my lonely days are gone" series. Read Part 1, Read Part 2

As Steve came to that morning, he leaned up a little to see around Eddie. The alarm clock read 5:58 AM, just two minutes before his alarm went off, so there was little point in pretending he could get any more sleep.

Carefully, he climbed over Eddie to get out of bed and shut the alarm clock off. As soon as his feet hit the floor, both Robin and Eddie were scooching over in their sleep to fill the warm, empty space he’d left behind between them.

He stepped softly to the bathroom, where he got ready for the morning. A quick shower, a teeth-brushing, and a hairstyle later, he was out of the ensuite and bedroom, headed downstairs to start getting the rest of the household ready for the day.

He double-checked the calendar in the kitchen to make sure nothing special or extra was happening today, and there wasn’t. Max did have a field trip tomorrow that he was chaperoning, so he made a mental note to get together everything they’d need for that tonight. They were making a day trip to Indy, so he’d need to prep everyone’s lunches ahead of time to have ready in the fridge, and Max would need a bag of her spare medical supplies prepped since she obviously wouldn’t have access to the nurse’s office on the trip.

Today was Thursday, so… He jogged through everyone’s schedules for the day. Nancy, Jon, and Argyle had class all day, Robin had a shift in the morning then class in the afternoon, Chrissy was the opposite with classes in the morning and a shift in the afternoon, Eddie had work, and Max had school. That meant breakfast for everyone, since the few of them that would normally skip breakfast had busy schedules today.

After pulling some veggies out of the fridge, Steve started to make breakfast. Everyone was due to wake up in the next 45 minutes or so, and he wanted everything ready before then.

The oven got set to ‘Warm,’ potatoes were shredded and dumped in a pan with some hot oil, and a loaf of bread was sliced to be toasted. After the first flip of the hashbrowns, Steve put another pan on the stovetop with some chopped veggies. As the bread popped out of the toaster, he buttered each slice and tossed them on a plate in the oven.

Soon the veggies were soft so Steve cracked and whisked a dozen eggs, pouring them into the pan too. Checking his watch, he saw it was 6:55. Just on time. Once the eggs firmed up, he salted and peppered them and added a handful of cheese. It was the last pan to go into the oven to stay warm, and he shut the oven door just as he heard Max’s alarm go off.

By the time he reached her bedroom door, he could no longer hear the beeping. The question was, did she actually wake up, or did she just roll back over and try to go back to sleep?

“Max?” he called, knocking on her door.

“Come in!” he heard her reply.

He slowly pushed open the door, just enough to poke his head in and ask, “How’re we feeling this morning?”

She scowled at him. “You don’t have to baby me,” she complained. “I’m fine. I can get myself ready.”

Both of them knew, though, that wasn’t always the case, but Steve also knew how much it grated on Max to need help with basic stuff, so he let it be.

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “I just smiled.” He always tried his best to let her know things she couldn’t see, especially when she didn’t have her glasses on, like now. (Not that her glasses really helped much.) “Breakfast is ready, so it’ll be waiting on the table for you.”

“Fine. Now go away so I can get changed.” She waved her hands and shooed him.

As he was pulling her door shut behind him, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle came up the stairs from the basement. Argyle was still half-asleep like he always was at this time of morning.

“Morning,” Steve greeted them. “Breakfast’s ready, just need to set the table.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Nancy said, headed to the dining room, pulling Argyle behind her.

Jon stayed in the hall with him. “Let me help.”

Steve nodded. “Sure. I appreciate it.”

The two of them headed through to the kitchen, Steve pulling pans and plates out of the oven, and Jon pulling plates and silverware out of the cupboards and drawers. Soon, they had all the food on the table along with drinks.

Max rolled out of her room and over to the table as the last few cups were being placed; she took her normal spot where they always left a gap large enough for her wheelchair to slot into place between the chairs.

Steve tilted his head, trying to listen for noises from upstairs but didn’t hear anything. “You guys go ahead and get started. I’ll go get the others.”

Once he was upstairs, he heard Chrissy’s soft, sweet voice saying something that he couldn’t make out. As he opened the door, he saw why no one was down yet.

Robbie wasn’t in bed, but he heard the sink running in the ensuite, so he assumed she was getting ready. Chrissy was in bed, along with Eddie, who was completely enveloped in his blanket in a cocoon.

“Hey, Steve,” Chrissy greeted softly. “Eddie isn’t feeling too good. I think he might have a fever.” She rubbed Eddie’s back (?) through the blankets.

“Oh, Eds,” Steve said, heading over and sitting on the edge of the bed next to the lump that was Eddie.

“I hate this,” he heard Eddie say, muffled through the blankets. “Everything hurts.”

Robin came out of the bathroom just then. “I grabbed the thermometer,” she said and held it out to Steve.

Eddie must’ve been able to hear Robin through his plush armor because he wiggled a little and stuck his head out, mouth open.

Steve tried not to make him wait too long, uncapping the thermometer, turning it on, and putting it in Eddie’s mouth.

All three of them waited, surrounding Eddie and staring at the device until it beeped. When Steve pulled it out of his boyfriend’s mouth, he read, “100.7”

Chrissy made a soft coo-ing noise and brushed back Eddie’s bangs. “Poor thing.”

He saw Eddie pout. “No wonder I’m so cold,” he complained.

Robin tapped Steve on the shoulder and gestured to the door. “I’ll go get him medicine. We need to restock our bathroom because I couldn’t find any in there.”

There almost certainly was some in the ensuite because he took some yesterday. Actually, he was fairly certain it was right next to where Robin got the thermometer, even, silly Robbie. It wouldn’t kill Eddie to wait the extra minute it took Robin to go down the hall and come back, though, so he didn’t argue, just watching her leave without saying anything.

Instead, he turned to Chrissy and said, “Robs and I’ll make sure he’s okay, Chris. Why don’t you go down and eat breakfast? You’ve got class in just over an hour, and I don’t want you to be late.”

Chrissy nodded and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then turned and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead and said, “Feel better, baby. I’ll come back and check on you at lunch. I love you.” She grabbed some clothes from the dresser, Steve assumed so she could get ready in another room and not bother Eddie again. Chrissy was always so considerate like that.

The two girls passed each other in the doorway with a quick kiss, and Chrissy gave one last wave goodbye to Eddie before disappearing into the hall. Soon, Robin was at his side with the bottle of aspirin.

“Got it,” she said, shaking the bottle in front of him.

Steve smiled at her. “Thanks, Bobin. Can you give him two and hang out up here so I can take Max to school?”

When Robin nodded, he checked with Eddie, “You okay if I go get everyone else taken care of? I’ll be back in just a little bit.”

Eddie just wiggled deeper into the bed and his pillow and blanket. “Mhm, Robbie can protect me from my big, bad cold. Drive safe. Tell MadMax I said to have a good day.”

“Okay, baby,” he replied and kissed Eddie’s cheek. After he stood, he wrapped Robin up in a big hug and said to her, “Thanks, Robbie.”

“’Course, dingus,” she said, hugging him back.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and let her go. As he went to leave the room, he told both of them, “Love you both. Be back soon. Walkie me if something comes up.”

Robin sent him off with a smile, and Eddie gave him a nod.

Steve headed back downstairs so he could pack Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle’s lunch, only to enter the kitchen and find Jon already on top of it, making PB&Js.

Jonathan gave Steve a smile and said, “Chrissy already told us Eddie’s sick. So don’t worry about us. I already got Max’s lunch packed, and her backpack’s ready to go by the garage door.” Steve sighed in relief. “You’re a lifesaver, Jon. Thank you.” He pulled Jonathan into a quick hug before heading off to find Max. Luckily, she wasn’t far, hanging out in the living room and listening to the radio.

“Ready for school?” he asked her.

She spun her chair around toward his voice. “Yeah.” Then she started rolling off toward the garage.

He honestly loved how confident she’d gotten in getting around their home. He just wished she could be as confident everywhere else. Unfortunately, they’d been having trouble getting her on a list for a service dog, which they’d been told was her best bet for increased mobility. It wasn’t that she wasn’t qualified; it was just how the system worked.

The nearest organization was in Indianapolis and had a waitlist that was five years long. Chicago had a couple organizations with shorter waitlists, but it’d still be over a year, and they’d have to travel all the way there to stay during the handover training. Of course, they got her name put down on every list they could, just hoping for whatever reason, she’d get chosen sooner, but until then, they’d keep waiting.

After he caught up with her in the garage, he helped her into the minivan. They’d finally gotten enough money together to get one that she could use with her wheelchair, so he could stop unloading her from her chair to the car and back again. Once she was secured, he hopped into the driver’s seat and double-checked one last time before backing out, “All set?”

“Yeah, let’s go, or we’re going to be late,” she said.

Steve took his daily route around Hawkins, picking up the other kids to haul to school. As each kid climbed in, he greeted them, eventually having seven noisy children bouncing around his van.

“Steve!” Dustin said when they pulled up.

Turning to look at him, Steve said, “Yeah?”

“Can we come over after school?” he asked. All the other kids started to give pleading looks in the background.

He could only pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. “Fine, but Eddie’s sick so you need to behave,” he told them; if he could actually keep them away, he would say ‘no,’ but he knew that wasn’t happening. He reached into the cupholder and pulled out a small handful of quarters, passing them to Dustin. “You all need to call your parents during lunch and let them know, too.”

The kids all hooted and hollered as they clambered out of the van, Max rolling out close behind. Ellie made sure the ramp was back in place and shut the door behind her best friend. She always was one of Steve’s favorites.

All the kids started to head into the school, but halfway there, Dustin turned and rushed back to the van and knocked on the passenger window. Steve rolled it down to hear him ask quietly, “Is Eddie going to be okay?”

“Yeah, Dust,” Steve reassured his little brother with a smile. “Just a bad cold. You’ll just have to try not to get too noisy when you guys come over.”

“Okay!” Dustin chirped, perking back up. “Bye, Mom! Thanks for the ride!” he hollered as he ran off.

He could only roll his eyes as he pulled away from the drop-off zone and headed home.

Edit: I was inspired by a comment to write a bit more for this story (500+ Words!). You can find it in the comments on AO3.

Also, Read the Next Part

#fourormore #stranger things #fruity four #spicy six #polyamory #polycule #prompt fill #platonic stobin #talanashta writes #my lonely days are gone

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 2 months ago

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OK all our breakfast talk has got me thinking…

Which babe’s go to is:

🥞- a sugary nightmare loaded with sprinkles, whipped cream, maybe even marshmallows- just all the sugar

🥞- lite butter and syrup- definitely the real syrup- the kind you get from a farmers market made by a family owned company

🍓- pancakes or waffles loaded with all the berries you can find

🥓- what pancakes? give this babe all the bacon and eggs… maybe some hashbrowns

🌯- breakfast burrito for the win!

🫐- waffles with peanut butter, syrup and blueberries (the winning combo, obviously 😋)

☕️- black coffee and keep it coming

🥣- and which babe (*cough-Andy Barber- cough*) is boring and is just eating some kind of gross raisin bran cereal every morning 😂

You know that breakfast is the best meal of the day and I wont take any argument from anyone about it.

🥞- a sugary nightmare loaded with sprinkles, whipped cream, maybe even marshmallows- just all the sugar

Ransom, this man and his indulgent attitude includes his love of sweet. He probably crumbles a mess of Biscoff cookies on it too. He also needs that sugar to recover from a long night with you. 😉

🥞- lite butter and syrup- definitely the real syrup- the kind you get from a farmers market made by a family owned company

Cole Turner because a farmer market friend had gifted him the syrup in a trade for some of the honey comb he had for sale. And because he tries so hard to impress you, he made some pretty incredible pancakes to go with it to share with you.

🍓- pancakes or waffles loaded with all the berries you can find

Steve Rogers. He has to eat alot to keep up with the super solider serum and the amount of pancakes you make would make anyone question why you were making enough to feed an army, but when Steve see's what you're making, he immediately starts preparing some of your favorite sweet berries to pair with it.

🥓- what pancakes? give this babe all the bacon and eggs… maybe some hashbrowns

Frank Adler. If he smelled bacon frying and coffee brewing, it would wake him from the heaviest sleep to come find you. He would offer to take over, but you shoo him away, knowing that he would probably burn the toast and spill the coffee trying to rush himself.

🌯- breakfast burrito for the win!

COLIN SHEA! COME GET YOUR BURRITO!

Look at the way this man eats, he loves a burrito. And it could be one from some shady little convenience store or a homemade one that is exuberant about, like a kid at Christmas.

🫐- waffles with peanut butter, syrup and blueberries (the winning combo, obviously 😋)

Come on, you know who it has to be Carly... Your sweet nerdy man Jake Jensesn.

And he will be genuinley shocked, his glasses askew and hair spiked all over cause he just woke up wearing his mario bros pj bottoms. But then the biggest grin will overcome him because YOU MADE HIM BREAKFAST and he cant wait to devour it and then you as his thank you for spoiling him. (He also insists on cleaning up the kitchen, dont you dare even try to help)

☕️- black coffee and keep it coming

Ari Levinson, just because he is usually to busy to really stop for a proper meal unless you force him to eat a meal with you. Most of the time you didn't push him though, often just bringing him his morning coffee while the two of you walk the beach, going over the days schedule.

🥣- and which babe (*cough-Andy Barber- cough*) is boring and is just eating some kind of gross raisin bran cereal every morning 😂

Ugh this man. His healthy breakfasts of raisin bran, overnight oats or greek yogurt with berries and granola... Its up to you to corrupt him. Get him to go get fast food breakfast once in a while, please.

Special shout out for my main man Curtis.

He is down for anything, last nights pizza? Perfect. Your 2 am pancakes? Cant get enough of them. A pepper and cheese omelet? Thank you Honey.

But one of his favorite's is when you make him some ooey gooey sweet cinnamon rolls with a cup of coffee. To him that is a real moment of bliss. As long as your sitting at the kitchen table with him, time seeming to stop as you two bask in each others company.

That's really his favorite breakfast.

#amber answers #breakfast edition

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youronlybean · 11 months ago

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Please,,,, 5e Team Sickos 🥺👉👈

Format: Name - [Subrace] Race, Subclass Class, Background + any relevant feats

Chilled - Human Variant (high Cha. Obviously), College of Whispers Bard, Charlatan with the Silver-Tongued feat

Ze - Tiefling, Drakewarden Ranger, Sage(?)

Shubble - Forest Gnome, Circle of Spores Druid, Hermit

For Chilled I was so torn between Mastermind Rogue and Whispers Bard, since they are both such deception-based classes, but ultimately I thought bard was more true to his goofier side. Charlatan was the obvious choice for his background, and a slight homage to the cardboard shop bit. He also just gives human energy, variant for the higher charisma stat.

For Ze I honestly had no idea. I thought at first maybe Barbarian but none of the subclasses really called to me. I went with Drakewarden Ranger because I want Ze to have a dragon companion. Possibly named Hashbrown. That’s it. He’s a tiefling because of the horns, and I don’t know about background but I thought Sage bc comp-sci degree lol. I liked the artificer idea for this reason but uhhh. Dragon!!!!

So Shubble’s is obvious if you watched Empires (go watch Empires). Circle of Spores is because of S2 with the Evermoore, and she’s a Gnome and a Hermit because of S1 with Shrub. Spores felt right for the Evermoore because of the Necrotic spells, as well as the decay and the Skulkfan135 incident.

#private recording 1 #youronlyanswers #pr1 x D&D #team sicko my beloveds #these are some of my fav subclasses as well :)))

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crimsonblackrose · 9 months ago

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Ah yes, the apple computer is a lemon because Lyle accidentally found himself as tech support.

Johnny's first computer is a Dell laptop. I wonder though if in the 80's they had computer classes, because then he might've known a desktop, which is still a different set up then a clunky Dell laptop.

LYLE WHAT IS THAT?!

Johnny is at least moving at the right part of the computer that is the mouse. Even though the cursor isn't moving. He also manages to open up every single Microsoft program ever, which how does he have those? They're totally extra now right?

Where's the internet? Have you tried connecting to the wifi? Obviously....what's wifi?

Book 2: The Internet for Dummies

His wifi password is Strike1strike (hard one guesses?)

Hot Babes > Wet T-shirt contest > Iron Eagle > Bloodsport (Lol he stops to read a blog post about it)> Conspiracy Theories (The Actual Truth: Mind Control, Flat earth, fluride poisoning children, herbal remides for sleep, faked moon landing, and of course dinosauras built the pyramids, zac efron is elvis's son) > misc fighting video from a movie I don't know. >all american karate championship on youtube> Top 10 spin kicks (blocked by a Daniel advertisement for Miyagi-do where he purposefully shows kicking Johnny in the face as part of his ad)

Daniel, darling, dearest, my boy, you were pissed when Cole made a targeted ad, you're literally putting kicking Johnny in the face on the worst night of his life (one of) as your ad for your dojo. You even say "Don't be a snake in the grass. Be a champion."

And then Daniel's once again undercutting Johnny's finances by making sure all the sessions are free. Which I get is because his lessons with Mr. Miyagi were free but still.

You know I do like that they didn't actually show google, and just made their own random generic internet search

New movie rec: Bloodsport

Whose making the cobra kai merch? a beach ball and a towel?

Demetri claiming the wins of Cobra Kai as his own is...something.

First mention of Johnny's rap sheet, I like how Eli's parents actually did their research on the guy teaching their kids.

Valley fest mention (did they only do valley fist in this one instance in the whole series?)

Amanda is a CEO.

Daniel spent half the Q3 (third quarter) marketing budget for LaRusso Auto on his dojo advertisement. That seems...uh...financially very bad. I don't know legal laws for corporations but...bad.

Like he excuses it because the dealership will get publicity at the Valley fest, but still to take corporate funds to use for personal I feel like is an actual white collar crime.

Jessica Bluestein is I guess one of Amanda's friends or coworkers/staff whose husband started a ska band and then hooked up with a palates instructor half his age.

Amanda misses the simple days of dicks on billboards. Which fair, it's going to get a million times worse Amanda, so be prepared.

Anoush got transferred from Encino to North Hollywood. Which I guess is a downgrade

Sam's hair when it's braided or in these little three buns is very cute.

Robby's hot water was also turned off.

Jacuzzi confirmed at the LaRusso's. It must be that thing by the fire place. Also apparently a possum died in it.

There's also a cobra kai phone case. Seriously? Johnny did you have all this made or did the students have it all made?

Poor bonsai, also did you go out and buy these to hurt the bonsai? Also poor kid holding the bonsai that was dirt and ceramic and tree that hit him in the face.

What Johnny says is pretty much exactly how Tom Cole did his targeted ad against Johnny.

Hashbrown and send it to the internet.

His students doing his whole internet marketing team is very sweet, but also he needs to compensate them for all that free tech labor.

I don't think I'd fully realized that he'd bought more space from Zarkarian. I guess he just had this room locked for Zarkarian to have storage previously?

I get why the kids automatically assumed that because of Robby being Johnny's son that's why Johnny got mad at them for the tournament. But in reality his rules he tried to instill after the tournament was don't cheat and don't be unsportsmanlike. And that should apply to everyone even Robby. And maybe he should've reminded them of that rather than just shutting down the conversation and telling them to clean mats because they got into his business and it's not their business.

Especially since Kreese is going to use that to drive a wedge between them all.

I get why Amanda is getting frustrated, Daniel said that he used part of the budget to get eyes on his dojo, and it's fine because they have valley fest for the dealership. But then he goes after the dealership spot too.

I don't think she has a name yet and I don't remember it, but I like that she gives Johnny the 411 on free food. He's got kind of a community in the area. Lyle his tech person, the Mini Mart guy (sorry I forgot his name) and the homeless lady.

Did Kreese not know previously that Robby was Johnny's? Or that Johnny had a kid? Because it feels like not only does he have his eyes on a way to drive a wedge but also a target.

Johnny says he'll never get a chance to train Robby.

Kreese dumping a lot of paranoia and random fears on Johnny, like Daniel stealing away Miguel too.

Ah the correction, Johnny's learning and paying attention.

They changed it, Miguel and the Diaz's are in apartment 1.

Johnny kidnapping Miguel: 2? 1? I feel like generally he has the kids meet him somewhere rather than driving them somewhere.

Sal and the delicious chopped onion burgers. So Johnny knows the name of the chef at this diner and it's not Smitty's.

Robby's birthday Monday February 4, 2002 after 17 hours of labor.

Johnny was coming off a 3 day bender.

He gets chocked up when he says he failed Robby on his first day in the world and every day since.

Mr. Miyagi never taught Daniel how to use a weapon during the first 3 films, so sometime later he must've taught him some, at least a bo staff.

Stingray is out here talking about the teenage mutant ninja turtles, Donatello is his favorite.

The initial shots make it look like they're up much higher then they actually are.

Look how proud he looks to have that thing and his ice blocks. It is really cool.

Okay so it always comes off as if Johnny like snuck in and struck, but the fact someone dropped the logo over valleyfest makes me think someone on the valley fest prep team knew about it.

Yup I went back, it's right there rolled up above the Valley fest logo

Plus all the lighting people knew exactly where to direct the lighting and the music to play. So they knew that Daniel would get interrupted and didn't tell him.

The smoke, the lighting, the fireworks, Daniel someone did not give you an updated memo on this and the Valley Fest was more than happy to put this on without telling you. Also the amount of work these kids put in to perform on even less notice then Sam and Robby?!

Like sure Kreese is standing in the back talking to a tech person but still, they had to have gotten permission and people had to have agreed otherwise security would've taken them off the stage. Someone on the Valley Fest committee loved this idea.

This crowd craves violence.

Omg there's even custom logo lights being shown on the backwall.

I do love that Aisha got her own solo where she was blindfolded and kicked and broke a bunch of boards. She looks so happy and proud.

Like yes, them upsurping Daniel sucks, but also this is such a great celebration for his students. And also again Aisha! (add to it disproving one of Silvers goals of blinding your opponent and making them unable to do anything, here Aisha is proving you can still kick ass and not see, which you would think Daniel and Sam would be proud of her)

Hawk's jump kick is also really cool.

For a festival it also makes sense, they're throwing out merch and what not. It's fun for the crowd.

Daniel's thing would've been super cool, and two stages can go at the same time, the fact they completely stopped to watch Cobra Kai is a bit of a bummer, because they could've continued. Our local fest had a big main stage performance and then a small stage performance like super close but the noise pollution wasn't bad enough to disturb either. But because the crowd left and Daniel was so stunned they just seemed to have given up, when that didn't have to be the case, he could've show cased his own thing at the same time and gotten a different audience because Cobra Kai isn't going to be for everyone.

Johnny and his five cement bricks on fire. I wonder if those are from Cutter. (Daniel btw has 6 blocks of ice)

Kreese looks ecstatic in the back with the tech and sound people.

The melting ice makes me so sad every time.

So do you think Johnny and Daniel both had similar ideas of breaking bricks without Johnny knowing that Daniel had that planned? Because Daniel's plan was a secret, they just both thought it'd look cool? Daniel's of course is from TKK2 but did Kreese teach Johnny that? Johnny told Kreese that he had a few moves Kreese didn't teach him, and if that's the case where'd he pick those up?

Robby looks mad. That's probably one of the biggest one step forward another step back is that not only did Johnny upstage Daniel but he also upstaged his own son.

#mumbling about shows

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maxlarens · 8 months ago

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💌 what would your perfect day be?

ooh such a good question!!! i may have gone into too much detail😭 hmm okay it starts with no alarm set obviously and no one makes any noise that might wake me up. i have an iced coffee, hashbrowns and cooked mushroom for breakfast! then i go to the beach and read under a beach umbrella alllll day and if i go in the water it's not too cold and not too warm. i get beer battered fish and chips for lunch obviously. italian for dinner, some kind of penne pasta. i go home, nap in freshly washed sheets and watch a movie i've already seen, before going to sleep with the windows open. and i absolutely don't have work the next day so i cant stress about that.

#the food is like the most important part of all this tbh #lilli's birthday celebration #💌asks

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sunspray-peak · 1 year ago

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Ch. 60: Camellia Station

SUNDAY - WINTER 14

When Achilles woke, Alex was gone, but he knew better than to worry. He slipped on a pair of socks and padded to the kitchen. No, Alex wasn’t the type to slip silently into the night without a goodbye, he was more likely to—ah yes. There it was.

Alex, dressed in an old crewneck of Achilles’, standing at a sizzling stove, spatula in hand.

The sight of Alex in his clothes, as chaste as their night had been, brought a small tickle to Achilles’ stomach, and after taking just a beat to admire the view, he called “Morning,” from the doorway. “Raiding my closet, I see. Just can’t help but rifle through my things, can you?”

Alex (and Voltaire, who was waiting patiently at Alex’s feet) turned, a wide grin already plastered across his face. “It’s good stuff. Hey, by the way, you don’t have an apron.”

“Why would I need an apron to boil an egg?”

“I’m not wearing, like, one of your $500 sweaters am I?”

“No, it was free. Got it at a signing years and years ago.”

“You’re not lying to me are you?”

“It’s got a bookstore logo on the back, Al.”

“I don’t know, don’t rich people sometimes pay a lot of money for things that look free.”

God, how easy it was still to talk to him. Achilles gave a snort before disappearing back into the bedroom to change and brush his teeth.

When he returned, Alex was setting two plates down on the table, each complete with pancakes, two fried eggs, and some hashbrowns.

Achilles scooted his seat forward and gave the yolk a poke, letting it run into the potatoes. “Is making breakfast the morning after part of the Handbook as well?”

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he poured Achilles a glass of milk. “I’m not supposed to kiss anyone until the third date, you really think my grandpa had instructions for ‘staying the night’ and ‘the morning after?’ I shouldn’t even be here.”

“So you’re breaking the rules, huh?”

“Only for you, Ash.”

“No, no, don’t try to flatter me this time.” Achilles waved his fork at Alex who was now digging into his plate. “You broke them for Tanya, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

Oh. Shit.

“Ah. I…” Achilles sighed and set down his fork. “I must confess, I ran into you. Well, not ‘ran into’ because you didn’t see me, I suppose you could say I was snooping—”

“—How the turn tables—”

“—but I saw you and Tanya at the beginning of the season. When she dropped you off in the parking lot that morning.”

Alex blinked several times, as if trying to remember the aforementioned events. Only after he swallowed a rather hefty bite of pancake did he exclaim, “Oh.”

“I’m not mad,” Achilles hurried to say. “Or upset. Just to be clear. Not that I have any right to be mad, anyway. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, I… I was…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“No, I mean, if I’m honest, I guess I… almost kind of forgot about that.”

Huh. Well clearly it meant nothing, then.

“She just asked me if I wanted to go to a concert after work, and one thing just… led to another, I guess, maybe I figured I’d… Actually. I don’t really know why I did it. I’m really sorry—”

“Yoba, don’t fucking apologize.” Achilles pinched his nose. “Al, you’re obviously allowed to date other people and…” Experiment? Fuck, what’s the right word…

“After Spirit’s Eve, I had this… dream. About… you. And I just… well I panicked, a little. At the time, I just chalked it up to the alcohol and stuff, like we’ve all had weird dreams… but you know, looking back, maybe I… maybe I started liking you a lot earlier than I thought I did. Like, maybe my body had caught on before my brain or something… It’s not that I… hate that I’m… gay.” Alex frowned—his expression darkened for a second before he added firmly, “I’m not my grandpa.

“But I just… well. Like I said last night, I just didn’t believe I could have… feelings for another guy. Like outside of senior year of high school for like five minutes, the thought had never even crossed my mind.

“And I think I just panicked, you know. Was confused for a day, there. And when she asked me out, I think a part of me was just desperate to prove to myself that I was… normal? No, I know, I know, that’s the wrong word, but I mean, I guess I just… I wanted to try and see if I could actually feel some way about a person—about a girl. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I did it because I just… didn’t know what I wanted. Or, thought I was supposed to want something that I didn’t actually want but wanted to test that out—that didn’t make sense, I don’t know. But it didn’t mean anything, shit, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize or explain yourself, Al.” Achilles bumped Alex’s foot from under the table. He sighed, lay his fork back next to his plate and shook his head. “You know, I sometimes forget how lucky I was… How easy I had it growing up. I never really questioned anything, I think I always just knew… And I never worried about how my parents would react. Everyone’s got their own journey, right? Don’t apologize for taking your time with yours.”

*****

“Any plans for today? Or is it just getting ready for tonight?”

Achilles sighed and tossed a clumsily re-folded napkin to the left of his empty plate. “Do I ever have plans these days? Might go for a run later, I’m feeling a bit antsy. Likely vicarious nervous energy…”

“What have you got to be nervous about?”

“Well nothing, really. That’s why it’s vicarious.”

“Come on, Ash, you know I don’t know the meaning of any words with four or more syllables.”

“Oh, it’s just like… hmm, like when you experience or feel something second hand, like through somebody else’s experiences. I know Elliott’s probably freaking the fuck out about his reading, and I’m also nervous specifically through him, if that makes sense?”

“Huh.” Alex thoughtfully munched on his last bite of pancake. “So like, when I felt really excited watching you win second place at the Stardew Valley Fair last season, that was like, vicarious excitement?”

“The Stardew Valley Fair? Fuck, was that really the last time I seemed excited about something?” Achilles stood and grabbed his and Alex’s empty plates. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much what vicarious means. Good job.”

“Oh no, let me help you with the dishes—”

“It’s 7:45, shouldn’t you be heading to the bus?”

“Dang, you’re a real party pooper, you know that?”

“We’ve been friends for a year now, it’s your own fault if you weren’t aware. Come on, pip pip, Mr. Manager.” Achilles thwacked Alex’s shoulder on his way to the sink. “You can just keep the shirt.”

*****

They stood on Achilles’ porch, an early morning Winter wind swirling the previous evening’s dust of snow. Alex was rolling on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets.

“I, um. Well I had a really good time. Last night. And this morning.” He gave Achilles a shy smile before looking quickly away at one of the dead bleeding heart bushes by the greenhouse (Shane had reassured him they would grow back in the Spring).

“Likewise.” Achilles leaned against the doorframe, drying a plate with a dishtowel. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me—”

“I mean, I am. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole—it’s ‘cause you’re making me nervous, why are you hopping around like that—”

“What? You become an asshole when you’re nervous?”

“Don’t you dare make the joke I know you’re about to make—”

“No idea what you’re talking about—”

“Right, mmhm.” Achilles slapped him lightly with the dish cloth. “Anyway, all that to say… I was messing with you, but I was also serious. I… had a good time, too. And would… genuinely like to do it again.” A beat. “Let me take you out tomorrow, unless that’s too soon?”

Not even a beat. “Nope!”

"I can pick you up from Orange Grove. Take you to dinner. Maybe catch a show, I saw Persephonopolis is in town, I’ve heard good things—actually, wait, do you like theater?”

Alex, who had brightened immediately at Achilles’ offer, was quick to eagerly exclaim, “Yeah!” only to immediately deflate. He bit his lip, scratched the side of his nose. “Well, okay, actually, I don’t know. I’ve never seen a musical before. But I don’t see why I wouldn’t like one! I’m excited!”

“You’ve never seen a musical?”

“Nah, theater just always seemed like it was for… fancy people.”

“Well, I suppose this is our time to be fancy people.”

“You are a fancy people.” Alex glanced down at his collar. “Hmm, I haven’t worn a tie in awhile…”

“Ok, we don’t have to be that fancy—”

“Might be fun though—”

“Hey if you want to go all out, let’s go all out. Whatever you want. Now get off my porch, boyyo, you need to go.”

Alex smiled. His cheeks were red, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from something else… “I… I really like you, Ash.” Achilles’ hands were full (you dumb bitch, why didn’t you leave the damn plate in the kitchen?), but Alex lightly traced the back of his palms before absentmindedly wrapping the corner of the dish towel around his forefinger. “Can I kiss you again?”

Achilles couldn’t help but laugh—oh Alex. How could he be so unaware of the effect he had on him? Then again, he could just be being polite…

“Al.” He set the plate down on the porch swing and trailed his now-free fingers down Alex’s scarf. “I think it’s very sweet that you always ask. But you don’t have to anymore, the answer’s always going to be yes.”

It was a small thing this time—light and quick, but even so, Achilles closed his eyes and savored the brief touch.

“You really ought to go…” Achilles murmured, gently tightening Alex’s scarf. They had dallied long enough, Alex would probably have to run if he wanted to make it to the bus stop in time… “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You know it.”

After but the smallest hesitation, he hopped forward to kiss Achilles on the cheek. And then he was gone.

*****

Achilles was in a daze. For nearly half an hour after Alex had sprinted off, he had continued to sit on his porch, despite the cold and the wind, warmed by his flush from the morning’s events.

Did that really just happen?

The past 12 hours or so… had they all really been… real? Surely this was all but a very good dream.

“Meow!”

Achilles patted his lap as the cat bounded up to join him. “What do you think of Alex, Voltaire? Do you like him?”

“Meow!”

He smiled softly to himself, petting the purring cat. “I do, too.”

Oh, but had they moved too fast? Should he have taken a step back, put on the brakes? Had he sabotaged this with his eagerness before it had even really had a chance to begin? Despite his joke the previous evening, Achilles didn’t often kiss on a first date, let alone invite his dates to stay the night.

But those had usually been strangers—acquaintances, mutual friends at best. Surely this was different. He and Alex had been friends for practically a year. They hadn’t needed to spend time getting to know each other, or feel each other out.

Don’t overthink this, bitch.

No, he had no regrets.

Alex’s reveal the night before had been a bit—well, more than a bit—of a surprise. Achilles had sat on the information some, long after Alex had fallen asleep, pondering the potential ramifications of Alex’s asexuality. Now Achilles hadn’t lied—disappointed, he was not—but he had always had an average enough libido (at least, before the antidepressants), and he’d be lying if he said the news hadn’t somewhat caught him off guard.

But that didn’t necessarily believe this made the two of them incompatible. Of that, Achilles was sure. Yes. He would be fine to wait—more than fine to take it slow. He would compromise, and perhaps there were things Alex would be willing to compromise on, too. They would talk more—what was Alex comfortable with, what would be enough for Achilles. Better define their limits, their wants, their needs. Communication, the foundation of every good relationship, right? And they’d always conversed well. Yes, this would be fine. Better than fine.

Yoba, to even just touch him again, let alone kiss him. Both were enough for Achilles, and both Alex was more than eager to provide. Yes, he had no regrets. The memory of their dinner last night alone was enough to set a permanent smile on his face.

He allowed himself an hour to digest both his thoughts and what had probably been the best breakfast he’d had since moving to the Valley before indeed going for a jog. But if he’d hoped the biting cold would clear his mind from the man at hand (you lovesick goon, you’ve got other things to worry about right now) he was sorely disappointed, for with every pound of his footsteps against the familiar beaten path through Cindersap, Achilles was brought back to the previous season, when he and Alex would run side by side.

How had this happened? Truly—what were the chances that Alex, of all people, could have ever fallen in love with him?

Speaking of which… in love! Those were the words Alex had used—and multiple times, at that. Perhaps Alex simply didn’t place the same weight to them as Achilles did, but even so, the thought thawed his wind beaten face with overwhelming warmth.

Don’t get ahead of yourself…

It was a shorter run but a longer shower than usual. After it became clear he wasn’t going to be able to think of anything else on the trail, he returned home after half an hour to sit in a cloud of lavender-scented steam for twice as long as his run had been.

The bath seemed to have done the trick, though Alex was, of course, still lingering in his mind. The sight of the toothbrush Alex had borrowed sitting by the sink brought a small smile to his lips. But when he emerged from the bathroom, it was with a renewed sense of peace and focus that he hadn’t felt in many a week.

Good. After all, he had business to attend to!

*****

There was almost an hour to go before doors officially opened, but even so, Achilles found himself scurrying about the museum in his usual impatient way—arranging flowers, moving lamps, straightening the thirty chairs he’d had Gunther arrange ahead of time.

He hoped thirty hadn’t been too generous an estimation. Surely most of the Stardew community would come out, even if it were more out of curiosity surrounding Elliott’s long-time-coming novel than genuine support for the writer.

Achilles hadn’t had much to time to advertise, especially with the snowstorm. But he had made sure all villagers were aware at least, and had reached out to some local publishing contacts and had taken out a last minute ad in the local daily paper, promising a book reading and refreshments. Alex, bless his heart, had been more than happy to drop off some flyers at the Zuzu bookstores and coffee shops to help spread the word beyond.

Taking a page out of Lewis’ festival book (though the thought made him shudder), he had pushed over one of the longer tables at the back of the library and draped it in a sapphire blue tablecloth. Emily was now helping him carefully lay out the catering he had ordered from the Stardrop Saloon earlier that day.

He’d even managed to put together a little silent auction to benefit the museum—a couple pieces of art from Leah, a few of Gus’ homemade jams, some of Shane’s goat cheese. Haley was even offering up an hour long portrait session (though Achilles highly suspected Alex had perhaps manhandled her into it). The items had been lain neatly out across another table he’d pushed in between two bookshelves. Hopefully it wasn’t a fire hazard.

Make the space cozier, he had thought to himself earlier when he’d been transforming the wide, labyrinthine space into something a little more intimate. Close the gaps, move the desks, bring up the bean bags. If only he could move the fireplace closer. Gunther, in addition to donating a few rare hardbacks, as well as a peculiar chicken statue, to the silent auction, had pretty much given him free reign to rearrange the room.

He better, after all I’ve done do liven this place up. Barely even had a book a year ago…

Not so anymore. Since Summer, the shelves had been heavy with the community’s surveyed selections and more. It had cost him quite a pretty penny (damn Lewis, where the hell were the tax dollars going?), but Achilles had no regrets.

Amidst all his scurrying, Achilles allowed himself a minute to pause, weaving through the bookshelves to sidle up to Elliott, who had hidden himself away in the far corner of the adjoining room. The man, an unusually morose expression on his long face, looked without seeing through the darkened windows at the fresh flurries fluttering down outside.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh…” Elliott declined the crab cake Achilles was offering with a wriggle of his fingers before burying his head in his hands, his mane of auburn hair slipping from behind his shoulder to conceal a pale face. “Sick.”

“Oh.” No lengthy metaphors? No waxing poetic? Yikes. Elliott really must be feeling bad.

“It’ll be great, man. You’ll be great.” Achilles patted him on the back, adding a bit of extra oomph in his tap against the burgundy velvet of Elliott’s sports jacket for reassurance. But the writer only turned an impressive shade of pea green.

*****

Shane had been the first to arrive, to Achilles’ surprise. He had slinked in near noiselessly, and was halfway down the refreshments table, paper plate stacked with three hefty crab cakes and a poppyseed muffin, before Achilles, who’d been jotting his name down to bid for the portrait session (knowing it’d drive Haley insane) noticed his presence.

“Shane! How are you doing, glad you could make it.”

“Mmph.” Shane poked a pudgy finger at the three sprigs of dandelion salad on his plate. “Couldn’t have ordered pizza?”

“Sure. Right…”

Leah joined soon after, followed by Penny, then Willy the fisherman, and Gil and Marlon. A bit of an odd group, those early birds, but Achilles had provided a spiked option for the hot chocolate, and all were soon mixing and mingling with relative ease.

At a quarter to 6, Alex arrived with his grandparents. Evelyn greeted him with what was, to the discerning eye, perhaps an overly warm embrace, but George, Achilles noticed, refused to even acknowledge his presence, moving almost immediately away to take a seat in the last row after ignoring the bookmark Achilles had been offering him.

He and Alex had discussed the matter briefly during dinner the night before—Alex had said there wasn’t much to share, really; it was plain and simple, exactly what Achilles would’ve expected. George wasn’t pleased. And that was that.

“But it’s my life, right?” Alex had said with a wan smile. “He’s not really… talking to me right now, but Grandma says he’ll… come around…”

How long that’d take, who knew. But at least Evelyn was on his side, Alex had said—and, of course, Achilles.

Still, likely overly conscious of George’s glare, they didn’t touch—not even the side-hug that was Alex’s usual way of saying hello for just about anyone. But Alex did greet him with an enthusiastic, double-handed wave after Evelyn had finishing squeezing Achilles within an inch of suffocation.

“Hi!”

Achilles unconsciously smoothed the front of his cardigan. “Hey.”

“Nice shirt.” Alex nodded at the tiny trains dotting Achilles’ button down before flicking a piece of dust off of his shoulder. A far from intimate touch—really, barely a touch at all—but it nevertheless kicked off a prickling ripple down Achilles’ arms. He could get used to this. “I’ve always wondered, do you just, like, already own these or do you buy them specifically for whatever event is going on?”

“Eh, a little bit of both… I did already own this one, though I can’t actually remember why…”

An obnoxiously loud cackle announced Abigail, Sebastian, and Sam’s arrival. It seemed like they had brought friends from the city, traipsing in with two other strangers who all made their way immediately to the refreshments table.

“Gonna be a full house, Ell!” he heard Leah exclaim from behind the bookshelves. “Better not fuck this up, eh!” The exclamation was followed by a lengthy, low, almost melodious, wail.

Well, at least the melodrama had returned. That had to be a positive sign, right?

Alex and Achilles shared a look, the former stifling his laughter behind a cup of hot chocolate. As more and more guests continued to stream through the doors, he gave Achilles’ shoulder a little squeeze before joining Penny by the bean bags, leaving Achilles to play the role of host undistracted.

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

Achilles turned from greeting Maru and Dr. Harvey, fresh from the clinic, to see Shane emerging from behind another bookshelf with an empty plate and a cup full of hot tea.

“You and him.” The man gave a jerky nod in Alex’s general direction. “Right?”

It wasn’t often Achilles was caught off guard, but Shane? Of all people?

“I—you—”

But Shane only grunted, offering up a shrug before plodding away to join Marnie and Jas who had just arrived.

By 6:25, there were well over 30 guests milling about the museum. Mostly townsfolk, as to be expected, but a sizable group of folks Achilles didn’t recognize had made it out to Stardew as well.

He made his over way to the podium.

“Hi everyone. We’re going to get started in about five minutes, if you could please make your way to your seats soon, that would be wonderful.”

*****

“Good evening everyone. Thank you all so much for coming out, we are so excited to welcome all of you to Stardew Valley’s Museum & Library.”

Achilles looked out at the small crowd of painstakingly straightened chairs. A good turnout, he thought to himself. 39 people, he’d been keeping count.

He was back at the podium after taking the final few minutes to close the silent auction (he’d been outbid by a “Zachary Grace“ for Haley’s portrait package, unfortunately) and secure a last minute snickerdoodle cookie for himself.

He had never found himself to be good at comforting others, and so was grateful to find Leah had committed herself to hyping up Elliott (though it could be debated whether she was any better than him at the task)—and though Achilles could still make out standing next to him a set of slightly wobbling knees, the writer had at least returned to his usual complexion.

“Now, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you tonight’s author, and one of my dearest friends, Elliott St. Laurent, who will be reading the first chapter from what will surely be a bestselling, debut novel, Camellia Station.”

He stepped to the side and, sneaking in what he hoped was a small, encouraging wink, gestured for Elliott to take the stage as a round of healthy applause rang through the room.

Elliott gripped the sides of the podium tight, perhaps in an effort to stem his shaking, the knuckles of his large hands white with the effort. A handful of deep breaths. A second to clear his throat. And then…

*****

“Ever since I was a young boy, I dreamt of becoming a writer.

“When the time came for me to leave home and start my own life, I moved here. I was drawn to the peaceful beauty of the valley, and hoped that days of quiet reflection in this idyllic atmosphere would fan the literary flames.

“And indeed they did! As I’m sure many of my fellow villagers would attest, it took perhaps quite a few more days than I had initially anticipated for the aforementioned literary flames to wholly ignite—“ he paused for the townsfolk to laugh politely. “ —but I am proud to share that, after many a year, I stand before you now with my completed novel in hand.

“But it would be the gravest error not to acknowledge two names, for I could never have completed this endeavor without the support and guidance of my dearest of friends—Miss Leah Connolly and, of course, Achilles Robinson, who you all surely know is a bestselling author himself!”

Achilles, who had joined Leah in a seat by the side of the room, received the applause politely, giving a small, lazy bow of his head before skillfully turning the attention back to Elliott, who, with each sentence, had quickly grown in confidence.

“And so, after countless hours scribbling at my writing desk, I now present to you my first book, Camellia Station: a romance novel about a train stewardess who falls in love with a traveling architect.”

He cleared his throat once more, and then began the reading.

“Chapter One.

“‘Your ticket, sir?’ Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter.

“‘Ah, yes. I have it right here,’ he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…”

Achilles, obviously familiar with the story, leaned back in his chair and sipped his hot chocolate. The most stressful part of the evening was over. Elliott had made it through to the reading alive, all the chairs—and then some—were filled, the refreshments had been warmly received by all except maybe Shane, and the silent auction had been a smashing success. Nice.

He found himself only half-listening to Elliott’s crooning tenor. Not because he was bored—no, he was very much proud of his friend and had genuinely admired the tomb of a novel—but he had only just finished reading it scarcely a week ago, and steamy romances and wicked love triangles had never quite captured his attention the same way genre did—funny, really, given how he’d been unable to stop replaying his own little romance in his head since this morning.

His fingers flexed at the memories, curled tighter around his paper cup.

But despite his drifting thoughts, he made sure to maintain both a smile and eye contact over the next half hour, just in case Elliott happened to glance over—though at the moment, the writer seemed a little too enthusiastically engrossed with the task at hand. Though his voice remained strong and strident, Elliott’s nose remained scarcely three inches from the page.

“‘…Clara, there’s something I must tell you,’ he blurted as she turned to leave. Clara turned, slowly, and saw the look of desperation in Horatio’s eye. At that moment, Gozman burst into the compartment, red-faced.”

After a solemn pause, Elliott closed the manuscript rather abruptly, though the applause drowned out the brusque snap of the pages.

“Well, that concludes my reading. Thank you everyone for coming out. Let us hope that we see Camellia Station on a bookshelf in Zuzu City within the next few years!”

And though it was Achilles who led the standing ovation, the sight of the enthusiastic, thirty some crowd clapping away for his friend seemed to be contaminating his pride for Elliott with something akin to… envy.

This could’ve been you.

But he felt Leah’s hand on his shoulder, and her simple touch was enough this time to pull him back to shore.

*****

“I have dedicated the book to you two, my dearest friends.” As the audience slowly dispersed, Elliott made his way over to where Achilles and Leah had been sitting in the corner.

He took each of their hands in his. “Without your support and encouragement this past year, who knows if Camellia Station would have ever… shall we say, left the station.” He solemnly placed a hand over his heart and gave them each a deep bow.

“We’re very proud of you,” Achilles said before Leah could swoop in with what he imagined would be a sarcastic comment of the highest degree. Let’s not lead with that. “Your reading was fantastic—you should record your own audiobook.”

Elliott turned red, patting Achilles’ hand as he shook his head modestly. “Oh my, you do honor me, my friend—let us not get ahead of ourselves…”

“Stop talking to us,” Leah hissed in a carrying whisper. She tilted her head at a handful of admirers who were beginning to congregate by the podium, each tossing the occasional impatient glance at the huddled trio. She proceeded to give the writer a hearty shove with her shoulder. “Go mingle with your new fans. Could be an agent in there somewhere! Schmooze!”

“Oh ho!” Elliott’s eyes gleamed as he snuck a covert peek at a particular suited stranger. He straightened his tie and stood confidently to his full, looming height—the well-received reading had clearly renewed his sense of vigor. “Then I shall pay them a visit posthaste—but oh ho, I believe there’s someone waiting to speak with you, as well, my dear friend.” Elliott ended his declaration with a devilish wink, nodding to something behind Achilles before striding over to the small waiting crowd of well-wishers.

Achilles turned to see Alex waiting patiently alone, munching thoughtfully on a small stack of finger sandwiches by the first row of seats.

Leah grunted. Less eloquent than Elliott, she merely smacked Achilles’ ass before leaving him for the refreshments table. “Go get that boy of yours.”

Achilles hadn’t had a chance to update either of his friends about his recent developments, and yet even so, Leah hadn’t bothered keeping her voice down. Alex perked up upon hearing her quip and, after shoving the remaining three sandwiches rather inelegantly into his mouth (now don’t you go there, Achilles, don’t you think about that), brushed the crumbs off his hands and jumped to his feet.

“Am I 'that boy of yours?'”

Dear lord, was Alex batting his eyelashes?

This man…

He could feel himself blushing at Alex’s hypnotizing, long-lashed gaze. But refusing to further indulge this roguish little show, Achilles lightly shoved his laughing figure aside and turned away to nod at Shane who was seemingly attempting to surreptitiously pocket the remaining crab cakes.

“No, she was talking about Shane.”

“Oh yeah? Does Shane he's ya boy—”

“Want to help me pack up the food? You can take the rest of the sandwiches if you’d like.”

#llnks #stardew valley fic #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #stardew elliott #stardew oc #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv leah #sdv oc

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