#2 is not a lot but it’s 1 more than what I’d like to

[moonwoodhollow]

Spice Market №2—a San Myshuno Shell by Moonwoodhollow. Spice Market №1 was definitely in need of a neighbouring lot, which would fit just as well as the first lot into the Spice Market and I hope I did it justice! While I wanted both lots to go well together, each one of them needed to have distinctive characteristics so for this lot you'll also get two 'classic' brownstones + a former harbor factory. Oh and 6 empty shops/businesses that you can fill with whatever you like!

More screenshots, info + download link under the cut!

So what do you get?

Spice Market №2 is a 30x30 lot best placed in San Myshuno in the Spice Market neighbourhood. The lot is currently set as a residential lot, but you could set it as a residential rental, or with the new pack combine a residential lot with a business. The lot consists of 1 apartment, that comprises 2 floors. The factory could potentially be used as a residential space as well, it has 2 rooftop terraces and consists of 2 floors. The 2 brownstones have 3 floors and a rooftop terrace each.

-> a tip: The brownstone townhouses aren't very big, because the size of the lot wouldn't permit it, but if you'd like to play with them and have more than 2 sims, I'd advise you to combine the 2 brownstones into one home. That way it should be more spacious.

There are also 6 businesses/shops/cafés/restaurants/etc. shells. 1 of these is in the basement, while the others are all on the 1st floor and potentially have more floors.

I also added a Chinese food stall next to the factory, that does work, but you'll need to click on it and pay for someone to arrive and work there (100 Simoleons, I believe).

Uses items from the following packs: looks best with almost all packs. But a tip: take a look at the build in the gallery and click on the packs to see the items I used from that pack, it might also look good with fewer packs.

Download: google drive (455mb) | and up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you’ll need the cc from the drive folder)

Is the cc included? yes.

TOU: Please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the building, I’d love to see it in your games.

If you like what I do and want to show your appreciation, I have a ko-fi!

[motorsportbarbie13]

Post It - Part 6 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

warnings/notes: angsty and descriptions of anxiety. swearing. Big giant huge thank you to @lestapiastrisgirl as usual for helping me out with the motivation in this chapter. You’re the bestest 🫶🏻. pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 4.3k words

|| - Part 1 || - Part 2 || - Part 3 || - Part 4 || - Part 5 ||

*Transcript of sit down interview between McLaren Formula 1 Driver Lando Norris & ESPN Commentator David Croft (“Crofty”) LIVE on ESPN* 

Crofty: This year has started out with a lot of pressure on you, more so than years before. 

Lando: *grinning* Yeah, it’s a bit nuts isn’t it?

Crofty: Well deserved though, well deserved. After your performance in Abu Dhabi and then the first few races this year, it’s been non-stop pressure.

Lando: It has, but the pressure is a good thing. At least for me it is. It means we’re doing good, the expectations going into this year were high and so far it seems like the team and I are living up to them. 

Crofty: I’d say so. A win in Australia, Japan, and last time out in Saudi Arabia. For someone who just got their first win in Formula 1 last year, that’s a lot of success real quick. 

Lando: The team worked hard, I worked hard, we all deserve the rewards of it. 

Crofty: How has it been personally? You look like a different person compared to last year. A lot more confident, more relaxed. Are you doing anything different this year? 

Lando: I mean, coming off the Constructors win last year was a huge boost to my confidence. I’ve got a lot of good people in my corner and I’m focusing on finding time between races to really center myself and make sure I tune out the noise.  

Crofty: Tuning out the noise. What does that look like?

Lando: I’ve been using those off-weeks when I’m not in Woking to disconnect. My girlfriend and I spent the week before the Japan GP in Osaka. We just totally unplugged from everything. It was really nice. 

Crofty: (smirks because he *knows* he’s got a viral clip on his hands.) And then you went and won that race?

Lando: *nods, small smile on his lips* I did. 

When Lando finishes his interview with Crofty ahead of the Miami GP in May, the first thing he sees is his press officer looking like she swallowed a lemon. 

“Everything okay, Corinne?” He asks, following her towards McLaren’s hospitality where they have some more content to film later that afternoon. 

“Next time you confirm the fact that you have a girlfriend to Crofty on Live TV, could you at least give me some warning?” She snaps back, fingers flying furiously over the keyboard of her iPhone. 

Lando stops in his tracks, starting after his press officer as she continues to speed walk through the sweltering Miami heat. “I did what?” He chokes, suddenly terrified to open his phone. 

Corinne stops, finally noticing her charge isn’t beside her anymore, trowing him a ‘are you kidding me’ look. “‘My girlfriend and I spent the week before the Japan GP in Osaka’” She mimics.  “Does that ring a bell, Norris?” 

Despite the humidity, Lando breaks out in a cold sweat. You probably hadn’t seen the interview yet, you were flying into Miami from Boston right now and as far as he knew you hadn’t landed. “Oh God,” He groans. “She’s going to kill me.” 

Corinne looks up at him, taking a momentary break from monitoring the comments on McLaren’s latest post. ESPN hadn’t posted the clip but she was certain once someone registered what Lando had said, it would be up on all platforms. Twitter was starting to chatter about it now though, so it was only a matter of time before it broke elsewhere.

 “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? You two have been begging people to gossip about you since she showed up at the track with you in China. Much to my dismay, might I add.” 

That was true, Lando supposed. The Japan trip had been a turning point, with both of you freely and brazenly including the other in your own social media. Nothing had ever been confirmed but it had been obvious and when you both had seen the kind of engagement and fun fans were having, you both kind of leaned into it. 

So, it wasn’t the fact that he thought you’d want to hide. That wasn’t it at all. 

“She’s going to kill me because I haven’t actually asked her to be my girlfriend yet.” He groans before reaching for his phone. 

“Lando Norris.” Corinne sighs heavily, shaking her head. 

Lando trails behind Corrine as he types a quick text to you, ignoring the amount of red bubbles above his Intagram and Twitter icons. That was not a good sign. 

*Whatever you do, don’t check any socials before you call me when you land.* 

In hindsight, he probably could have led with a different message but in his defense, he was beginning to spiral. Everything had been going so well between you two and he was so scared to rock the boat. You’d been all but confirming your relationship since Japan but you hadn’t ever really hard launched anything. Mostly because you hadn’t discussed it. You knew you were a better person when he was around and he knew that he craved your presence like starved man in the desert. You and Lando were both a bit gun shy when it came down to it though so the serious discussion of what you two meant to each other just hadn’t happened.

As he walks behind Corinne back to hospitality, another wave of panic washes over him. Girlfriend. You two had known each other for less than six months. He knew how he felt and how full send he was prepared to go for you but what if this was too fast for you? What if, while you didn’t want to be hidden or denied, being outed like this so quickly was going to be too much for you? He knew about your anxiety, the pressure you faced, the way you took things to heart just a little bit too much. He knew that because he saw himself do that and recognized it in you instantly. 

What if publicly outing you too quickly scared you off? 

“Lando, are you okay?” A thick Australian accent yanks Lando out of his spiral. His head snaps up to see Oscar standing in the middle of the second level of the hospitality suite. 

He wasn’t even sure how the hell he got up here, to be honest. 

Lando groans as he sits down on one of the couches in the open room, watching as Corinne joins some of the other comms staff probably trying to figure out how best to fix his blunder. 

Oscar looks around, fairly confused. He’d just woken up from a quick nap ahead of some more media obligations and had no idea what was going on. “What happened now?” 

Lando shoots him a look, as if Oscar wasn’t totally aware of his teammates innate ability to put his foot square into his mouth at the most inopportune times. “I resent the fact that you just assume I fucked up.” 

Oscar just blinks at him, patiently waiting. 

It takes a few moments before Lando huffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “I called her my girlfriend during my interview with Crofty.” 

Oscar quirks a brow. “Is she not your girlfriend?” He asks carefully. 

“We haven’t talked about it and now she’s going to think I’m a psycho outing our relationship to the public without even discussing it with her first.” Tipping his head  against the back of the couch, he closes his eyes. “Relationship? I don’t even know what the fuck we’re doing or if she even wants to be in a relationship.” 

“You’ve never talked about it?” 

Lando sits with the question for a moment. He was obsessed with you, that was for sure. He craved being around you and was starting to feel like he knew you deeper than anyone else in his life. But beyond the very ‘in the moment’ relationship you two seem to have been developing, there hadn’t been much discussion about the future. About what spending time together now meant for a year from now. 

10 years from now. 

And now he’s sped up the timeline of having that very scary, very serious discussion all because of his stupid mouth. 

A discussion that needed to happen though, to see if you two were on the same page. He knew what he wanted and it was you but you always seemed to shy away from talk of the future, from talk beyond the next few months. 

What if you didn’t see a future with him and you were just enjoying the moment with him because you knew it wouldn’t last? What if you didn’t want him for the long haul and what if he had just brought everything delicate and raw to the surface where it didn’t belong?

“Fuck, Osc. I wanted this to be different. I wanted to do things different with her. Better.” He glances up towards his teammate who’s looking at him with soft, understanding eyes. They’d become close over the 2 plus years they’d been teammates and Oscar hated seeing his friend like this. “I wanted to be better for her and here I am, still the same fuck up that can’t watch my mouth and now it’s going to ruin everything. I already got a second chance with her, I don’t think the universe is going to give me a third.”  

Miami race weekend was supposed to be a fun weekend. It was supposed to be the first time in two weeks that you’d seen Lando since leaving him after the Bahrain race. It was supposed to be a weekend spent in the face paced world that revolved around this man that smiled at you with stars in his eyes. 

But it started off as anything but. 

You had stayed up until 3am the night before, attempting to finish editing your most recent travel vlog that followed you from Bahrain to the brand trip in London and then home where you’d been for the last two weeks. Once you had nearly finished you had practically passed out, forgetting to set a second and third alarm like you usually needed to when you pulled a late night. As a result, you had slept through your one and only alarm. Normally it wouldn’t have been a problem because you were psycho about getting to the airport early enough and you usually had plenty of time from when you woke up to the time you had to leave but apparently today was going to be an exception to the rule. 

When your third Uber canceled on you, you knew you were in for a difficult travel day. Finally on your fourth try, you had to order a more expensive Uber Black but it got you to the airport just in time. Thankfully, the security line was short enough so you weren’t booking it through the airport at a flat out run, just a light little jog. 

And then as soon as you went to pay for your over-priced smoothie and croissant sandwich for breakfast, you realized you had left your debit card at home. Thankfully, you always carried a credit card or two just in case, but it was going to be annoying to have to make that extra step at the end of the month to make sure you paid off the balance of the credit card instead of just using cash. 

With the late arrival and card debacle you were able to get to your gate just as boarding was finishing up and you barely made it onto the plane. As soon as you flopped into your window seat in first class, stretching out while looking forward to the sick nap you were about to take to make up for your lack of sleep the night before you realized you had left your headphones at home. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” You sigh, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. 

It was almost just too much. The lack of sleep, the forgotten debit card, the fact that you missed Lando so fiercely it was starting to scare you. It all just felt like too much to deal with and suddenly, as you sat in the seat listing to a baby back in economy start to sob violently as the plane pulled away from the gate, you wondered if you really should be going on this trip at all. Because it certainly seemed like the universe was throwing everything it had at you to keep you away from Miami. 

In a break from how your day seemed to be going, your flight takes off on time but the flight itself is a drawn out exercise in frustration. The baby’s cries, initially a sharp piercing sound morph into a dull, persistent ache behind your eyes. You had brought a book to read but every time you attempted to start the next chapter, the words just blurred together in a watercolor mess of ink and anger. 

Every bump of turbulence, every ding of the seatbelt sign, every offer of assistance from the well-meaning flight attendant pushes you just a bit closer to the edge until you’re ready to scream half way over South Carolina. You were desperate for a glass of some sort of alcohol, longing for the way the drink would dull your senses and lull you into what you knew would be a fitful sleep. But at least it would be sleep. 

You didn’t ask for anything though, knowing that the Miami heat you were about to spend the weekend in would not be good mixed with a hangover. Not to mention it was about 11 o’clock in the morning. Getting drunk, even in first class, seemed like a good way to tempt fate and ask for trouble. Besides, you wanted to be fully present when you finally got to see Lando after what felt like an eternity away from him. You didn’t want to extend your streak of bad luck you were experiencing today so instead of dropping off to sleep with the help of some wine, you settled for staring out the window. 

Eventually, a few hours into the flight, you try to distract yourself by finishing the last bits of editing your vlog needed before posting it but just the thought of starting at a screen for any length of time makes your head throb even worse. Instead, you’re left with your own thoughts, which spiraled into a vortex of anxieties. You had a habit of creating the most ridiculous worst case scenarios in your mind when you were like this, all worked up and sleep deprived. You should have pulled yourself out of the anxiety spiral but you miss all the signs of where you’re headed until it’s too late. 

Thoughts of Lando and how much you miss him and the strange uncertain territory your relationship was at dominate your thoughts. How, despite spending a stupid amount of time with him and getting to know him on a level that you’d never experienced before, you were still uncertain with where you stood with him. Close enough to post each other on your socials, spinning up rumors and speculation but not close enough for him to ask you to be more than…whatever it was you were doing.  

By the time the plane began its descent into Miami, your body felt like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. You were exhausted, frustrated, and overwhelmed. The thought of facing whatever awaited you in Miami felt like a challenge you weren’t ready to deal with, even if you had no idea if anything at all was even going to go wrong. You could just feel it in your bones something was going to happen. It was just that kind of day. 

You knew, deep down, that you were being dramatic and that everything you’d dealt with today were just a string of minor inconveniences but for whatever reason, they felt like the heaviest things you could carry. It felt like the weight of the world had settled heavy and thick on your shoulders and you tried not to wander into the thinking that maybe this weekend was a mistake. 

And then you switched your phone back on as soon as the plane landed and your worst fears were confirmed. An explosion of notifications littering the screen along with an ominous text from Lando: Whatever you do, don’t check any socials before you call me when you land.

Oh fuck. 

 The doubts that you’d spent the entire flight stewing over resurface all over again, panic washing over you like a tsunami. As you wait for the plane to get to the gate, the scenarios of what could have happened in the brief time you were flying race through your head. You choose not to check social media, wanting to hear the worst of it from Lando himself. You’re certain it’s bad because he didn’t follow it up with anything light hearted like he usually does. No jokes. No silly memes. Nothing. Just ‘call me when you land’. 

Fuck. 

Maybe he’d been caught cheating on you. But was it cheating if you’d never actually had a conversation about what you were to each other? Probably not but you knew it would still hurt like hell. You hoped it wasn’t with Allegra, although she had been spotted in Saudi Arabia. Lando had never mentioned her though so…

Maybe he’d been photographed with a different girl all together. Maybe he was bored of you. You’d been accused of being just another bland blond influencer more times than you could count and maybe Lando had finally started to see the same things your critics did. Maybe he’d deleted all of his posts with you because you were bad for his image. 

The scenarios flew through your mind, spreading like wildfire as you followed your seat mate off the plane. The airport was busy, with people arriving for the race weekend already and the typical crowds that Miami attracted combining together to create an unusually busy terminal. You didn’t want to do this here though. Not in the middle of an airport. You refused to cry in public and you just knew that that’s exactly what was coming. 

It takes you nearly half an hour before you’re able to find a quiet corner tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the busy airport. You had to do this now before you left just in case you needed to make an emergency trip back to Boston. Which you suspected you’d need to do once you got done speaking with Lando. 

How had it gone so bad so quickly? You were just thinking about how much you missed him. How you wanted to talk to him later tonight about what you two were doing, what you meant to him and how much he was beginning to mean to you. And here you were, about to get dumped before you were even official. 

Tapping his contact info in your phone, you decide it’s time to face the music. 

Lando picks up after one ring. 

“Hi baby.” His voice is shaky when he answers, thick with nerves. 

Here it comes, you think, leaning against the cool stone wall of the alcove you’ve tucked yourself into, hoping it gives you some privacy when he drops the news of whatever’s happened. 

“Hi Lan.” You breathe, voice equally as shaky. “So…what happened?” 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry baby but…” His voice drops away and you squeeze your eyes shut, fingers gripping at the handle of your tote bag. “I slipped up in my interview with Crofty about an hour ago and called you my girlfriend on live tv.” 

You swear your heart stops and your stomach drops out of your body. 

“What?” You whisper, blinking away tears that have been threatening since you slept through your alarm this morning. 

Lando sighs heavily, “I know. I’m so sorry, my love. I really am. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. I guess I’ve been calling you my girlfriend in my head for so long, it just kind of slipped out. I didn’t even realize what I’d said until Corinne pointed it out ” 

He is totally spiraling, you realize. Just like you are but for a totally different reason. “Lan…” You start but he interrupts you before you can even get his name out of his mouth.

“I know, I know! I fucked up. I am so sorry, baby. So fucking sorry. I’ve been working so hard the last few months to think before I open my mouth but Crofty was asking how I’m handling the pressure this year and it just…came out. Talking about you and how you’re helping me deal. It just felt natural, calling you my girlfriend. I didn’t even blink. And now you’re probably freaking out because we haven’t even discussed what we mean to each other and I just went ahead like a bull in a china shop.” Lando drags in a shaky breath on the other line and you tip your head back against the wall. 

“Lando…” You try to interrupt but he’s on a roll. 

“I wanted to do this right. I wanted to tell you how you make me want to be a better person, how your presence calms the noise in my head and how when I’m around you I feel like I can breathe. How the last two weeks without you have been fucking shit because I can’t seem to sleep without you next to me. But instead, I had to open my fucking mouth to Crofty and ruin everything…” 

The genuine panic in his voice tugs at your heart. Here you were worrying that he was about to break up with you, to confess he’d been hooking up with other girls while you’d been in Boston but he had just simply outed your relationship to the press? You can hear the genuine panic in his voice, the fear that he’s ruined everything. Lando is so convinced you’re going to be furious, that you’re going to reject him, that he’s tripping over his words trying to explain himself and confessing things he probably didn’t mean to.

Suddenly, something unexpected happens. 

You start to laugh.  

It bubbles up from deep within you. It’s a wave of relief and amusement that washes over you. All of the tension, the anxiety, the fear of being rejected you’d been spiraling over for the last however many hours just dissipates in a burst of laughter. 

“You’re…laughing?” Lando asks, confusion clawing at his voice. “But…I thought you’d be mad.” 

“Mad?” You repeat, still chuckling. “Lando, I’ve had the absolute worst day today and then I get that text from you? I’ve been picturing every worst-case scenario imaginable for the past hour. I thought you’d been caught with another girl or you’d decided you didn’t want me or…I don’t know, something equally as dramatic. Calling me your girlfriend on live TV? That’s tame compared to where my brain was going.” 

“Cheating?” Lando scoffs, relief flooding his entire body as he listens to you chuckle. “Jesus Christ, baby, I’m obsessed with you. You should know that by now.” He pauses, dragging in a breath. “So, you’re not mad?” 

“Not even a little bit.” You say, your laughter subsiding finally, a smile playing on your lips. “In fact, I think it’s kind of sweet. Also a unique way to finally hard launch. How mad is Corinne?” 

Now it’s Lando’s turn to laugh. “Oh she was pissed at me but I think she’s happy she’ll finally get to stop seeing the comments asking the official McLaren account if we’re actually dating or not.” 

“I’m going to get some wine and chocolate for the entire comms team on my way to the track for what they put up with from us.” You murmur, standing up to stretch out your aching muscles. Mood lightened, you start towards baggage claim so you can attempt to find an Uber to get to the hotel. 

Lando chuckles, “Are you still at the airport?” 

You hum, “I hid myself in an alcove because I didn’t want to cry when you dumped me before we were even official.” 

Lando groans, “I’m so sorry. That text probably wasn’t the best thing to lead with, was it?” 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips. “No, lets add that to the list of things not to start off a conversation with.” 

“Done.” Lando chuckles. “Now can you please go find the driver I sent for you and get your ass to the track? I really fucking miss you.” 

Your eyes soften as you walk through the final doors of the terminal where the baggage claim was along with the hired drivers. “You sent a driver for me?” 

“Of course I did. He’ll get you to the paddock and then take your bags to the hotel. I booked you your own room but you if you want you can stay with me this weekend…” 

Something warms deep in your belly as you spot the man dressed in black holding a sign with your name written on it. “Cancel the other room, Lan. I want to stay with you this weekend.” 

You can practically hear Lando’s shoulders sag in relief. “Okay. Now please hurry to the track, I’m 2 weeks behind in kisses.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” You chuckle as you approach the driver Lando sent for you. 

“Ridiculously obsessed with you.” He quips. 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.” You roll your eyes, but smile despite how cheesy his line was.

“See you soon, my love!” Lando shouts before you end the call, smile on your lips and an extra bit of kick in your step as you follow the driver towards the car.

lando posted

lando oops. secrets outtt yourusername STRAIGHT to jail for that second one >>>lando but you're so cute, pretty girl ❤️ >>>yourusername unfair use of my favorite nickname, 5 second time penalty. >>>lando i'm taking this to the stewards >>>yourusername ok, george russel >>>user938 now this is the content we've been BEGGING for >>>user223 oh she is going to be a PROBLEM. I love it. user109 SECRET??? boy bye. you two were the worst kept secret on the internet. User238 anyone got eyes on Allegra??? 👀 👀👀

yourusername posted

yourusername can confirm ☺️ lando god DAMN your boyfriend is a lucky man >>>yourusername ikr??? user928 girl is out here living the DREAM >>>user029 nah, lando's the lucky one. out here waking up to HER. (liked by @/lando) user2929 literally the 'cute couple aesthetic' from pinterest user445 the way he just confidently said 'my girlfriend and i'. i've NEVERRRRR seen him act like this before. >>>user202 ik allegra WISHES this was her >>>user445 oh she is somewhere in europe SEETHING rn

its_allegra_babes posted

its_allegra_babes miami for a bit...heard there was a car race going on or something ;) user939 ohhhhhhhh no babes. there is still time to delete this user029 oh. oh no. who's gonna tell her? >>>user299 SHHHH lets see what happens when she finds out herself user002 oh this is going to be messy. user0929 starting a gofundme to send SOMEONE to the paddock this weekend to just...record.

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @xoxomansee

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

March 21st

~*~

1. Hey, "in the mood" do you have any fics where characters are disabled? (Pref. Physically?)

🔒 no new age Series by everythingispoetry (M/T, 145k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Families of Choice)

🧡 close your eyes, feel my heartbeat by ThatDesiGirl (T, 11k, WangXian, blind WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rewriting Canon, not a fix-it but a what-if, Canon-Typical Violence, Golden Core Transfer, Romance, Pining)

Bright Enough to Shine by Dreaming_Days (G, 12k, WangXian, Blind WWX)

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

🔒💖  in payment, a hand series by justdoityoufucker (M, 10k, WangXian, not jiang friendly, amputation, injury recovery, self reflection, abusive YZY, families of choice)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

Work in Tandem by MimiSpearmint (E, 23k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Single Parent LWJ, when you just want disability-led sword lessons for your child, swordflight instructor!wwx, swordflight instructor!lwj, Fluff, give lwj friends agenda, Protective LWJ, Getting Together, Intercrural Sex, Choking, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Implied off-screen D/s negotiations) This is a lot more fluffy than the other submissions, it's a cute modern AU story where WWX is the instructor who teaches Sizhui to fly his sword in a way which accommodates his disability (WWX is an amputee, Sizhui has a hip weakness I think)

🔒 some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Black Sun by thelastdboy (E, 73k, WIP, WangXian, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fall of Lotus Pier, Modern with Magic, No Sunshot Campaign, Hurt WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WZL Redemption, Wen Remnants Live, WWX Lives, Amputation, Hurt LWJ, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cultivation Sect Politics, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Disability, Classism)

~*~

2. hi, this is for the itmf - can i have your favorite modern aus (preferably college but i’d love anything) where wwx still has had a falling out with the jiangs, but i’d like the fic to include them still? like either they make up, or even if not there’s still contact in some way?

like a saturated sunrise by moonsteps (T, 26k, WangXian, College/University, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, References to anxiety, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers, Roommates)

Work of Heart by Witch_Nova221 (T, 17k, WangXian, Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, soft romance, Artist WWX, Musician LWJ, College/University, Modern, Roommates, Friends to Lovers, Family Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Financial Issues, Bad Parent YZY)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Found Family, Modern AU, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Musicals, POV Alternating, Baking, Yunmeng reconciliation (eventually), Friend Zoning, Literal Sleeping Together, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks)

❤️ the best of you by sysrae (E, 42k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, JC's expressive love language is yelling, Getting Together, slightly undernegotiated kink, but in a very soft and consensual way, Nightmares, the mortifying ordeal of wanting your boyfriend to top you, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JFM and YZY's A+ parenting, sad childhood backstories and the unlocking thereof, Dysfunctional Family, sometimes love is telling your partner they can safeword out of being at a family gathering, Mental Health Issues, therapy is good actually, JC is a ball of Issues, the most tender of railings, Reference to animal attacks/animal cruelty, descriptions of past violence, Mojo’s post)

love on 35mm by fakeplasticlily (M, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Swimming, film student lwj, Pining, Mutual Pining, swimmer wwx, best friends lwj and jyl)

🧡 Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending)

🔒 To Speak Up by Vrishchika (M, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Not Jiāng Chéng Friendly)

misunderstood 'verse by sysrae (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, getting hit by cars, Past Child Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Abusive YZY, Caring LWJ, Injured WWX, partial hearing loss, the real OTP is everyone x therapy) there's one on ao3vi forget the name, where wwx meets lz at college and keeps getting hit by cars on accident, and they realize he has hearing loss on one side due to a childhood injury caused by madam yu. His siblings find out and r horrified. It was only a few chapters I think.

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3. Hi! I am looking for fics (as many as you can find) where wwx wakes up in the body of woman/man who is supposed to marry/already married to lan zhan. Many fics would be nice! Thanks for the hard work!! @obsessingly-distracted

wing bones touching by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 26k, WIP, WangXian, XiYao, Identity Porn, Female MXY, Good Person JGY)

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 132k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats)

patching the road with vague intentions by loosingletters (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Developing Friendships, WWX Resurrected By Others, Trans WWX, Case Fic, POV WWX, POV LQR, Family, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, MXY Lives)

Catharsis by Starfell123 (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, That magic is cultivation, mentions of abuse, Mentions of Disownment, Swearing, Friendship, Attempted Arranged Marriage, WWX has gone through therapy, Catharsiss, upportive friends, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Genius WWX, Rich WWX, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, BAMF WWX)

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4. Hello,

In my childhood there was a book genre, where in a certain chapter you make a decision for the main character and then proceed to a certain page for the chosen version. And so on until the plot end. I wonder if anyone wrote a fic like this?

Thank you!

finally got it all right by larkspur_9 (T, 53k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, Choose Your Own Adventure, Modern, Single Parent WWX, Librarian LWJ, matchmaker A-Yuan, Kid Fic, Getting Together, Fluff, POV Multiple, the following tags only apply to certain paths through the fic, Amnesia, Mutual Pining, Meet-Cute, There Was Only One Bed, caught in a rainstorm, WangXian.mp3, Modern with Magic, vaguely defined spy assassin AU (don't think too hard. just go with it), Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, the violence and death are only in the spy assassin ending, really most of this is pure fluff) these fics contain elements of a Choose Your Own Adventure story

Blind Date by lionfish13 (G, 6k, XXC/XY, Modern, Blind Date, Matchmaking, Light-Hearted, Silly, Fun, Choose Your Own Adventure) these fics contain elements of a Choose Your Own Adventure story

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5. Any fics where WWX isn't immediately clocked as WWX when he is first revived? And especially any where he's also spending time with LWJ who doesn't know who he is yet pls!

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX) but Wei Ying believes he’s truly Mo Xuanyu when he returns so it takes folks (Wei Ying included) longer to realize he’s truly Wei Ying.

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6. Hi team, could you help me find fics where nhs executed revenge not only on jgy but lxc almost in equal measure. And maybe not in a canon way

Thank you!

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7. Although I'm inquiring if there is a story where Jiang Wanyin is held accountable for the torture and murders he does to others whom he takes out his own hatred for Wei Wuxian for practicing demonic cultivation.A story where being a sect leader doesn't save him from the rightful punishment for abusing and murdering those other people like that to the extent that other people and sects know but don't do anything to him for those people's families to get the justice they deserve.Where he is also stripped from his sect leader position, and then Beheaded or his core is sealed and banished and made to work as a servant to those people. Not sure but he deserves a punishment like Jin Guangyao, Sushe and xue Yang. Jiang Wanyin is not repentant so I wish someone gets him a suitable punishment.And hopefully Wei Wuxian doesn't care anymore about him and his issues anymore. @imahqulatte

The Price of a Golden Core by AshayaTReldai (M, 9k, WangXian, Angst, Tension, Aggression, JC pays the price for his choices, demanding letters, JC is a Brat, Supportive Lan Brothers, WWX deserves the best, Life Debt, Sad Ending Sad Ending for JC)

Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, One-Sided ChengXian, One-Sided ChengZhui, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by wwx, Wwx still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit)

The plagues of Jiang Wanyin by Lyna_Mei (T, 54k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Cultivation Sect Politics, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Torture, Minor Character Death, Not JC Friendly, JC suffers, Canon-Typical Violence)

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8. Hello. I'm in the mood for a fic in which wei wuxian stops wangji's 33 lashes punishment. Maybe survives and stops in the middle of even from happening at all. I basically just want to read wei ying stopping people from hurting his lan zhan. If you can find any out there I would deeply appreciate it.

Thank you 😊

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9. Hi there! I’m in the Mood for a Fic where Wei Wuxian is presumed dead (but isn’t dead) after being thrown in the burial mounds, and Lan Zhan is devastated then meets the Yiling patriarch and either tries to get the patriarch to help him find Wei Ying, or tries to scheme to take down or kill the patriarch because he blames him for Wei Ying’s death. I’m just looking for some longing and, like, identity misunderstandings and shenanigans. Preferably with a happy ending, but open or ambitious or canon(ish) compliment endings are also cool.

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10. itmf for single dad wei ying!! preferably to a-yuan, could be canon compliant or any au, i’d love the rest of the wens as a family/commune but doesn’t have to be. thank you!

An Old Cardboard Produce Box for a Cradle by julomaiboulomai, mischiefseven (T, 25k, WangXian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon Divergence, Sentient Burial Mounds, Golden Core Reveal, Everyone Lives)

🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona))

it’s a long road but we’re not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 62k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, LWJ & LJY, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Something Warm and Safe by Winxhelina (T, 13k, wangxian, JYL & WWX, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Warm, Friendship/Love, Love, much softer than it seems, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence)

estuaries by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 34k, WangXian, Modern, Breakup/makeup, breakup mostly happens off-screen, Pining while fucking, Single Dad WWX, brief mention of chronic illness, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🧡 i really want to know (who are you) by Stratisphyre (M, 19k, WangXian, WWX & LQR, Modern with Magic AU, Golden Core Reveal, Single Dad WWX, Reasonable Authority Figure LQR, Allusions to violence and murder, Hospitalization)

A Mother's Love by FirefliesNLightningBugs (M, 181k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Mostly combo of the Untamed and MoDaoZuShi timelines, Unreliable Narrator, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Family Feels, Found Family, PTSD, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Political Intrigue, Mystery, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Strong Female Characters, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Good Brother In Law JZX, Genderbent WWX, Intersex WWX, not a/b/o, POV Original Character, Expanded Universe, Unplanned Pregnancy, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Cultivation Sect Politics, Bisexual WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Pining WangXian, Parent-Child Relationship, Getting Together, Protective Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect, MXY Lives) has elements of single parent wwx (not abandoned, wip)

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11. Itmf fics where wwx travels back in time to his parents generation and maybe wwx x wrh or wwx x lwj who also traveled back or wwx x someone who is in his parents generation? PLEASEEEEEEE @jaywuji

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12. hii this is for itmf!!!

any fics where lwj is a house spouse, house husband ANYTHING!!! canon preferred but I'll take everything :)) @bunnycoffeeumcat

crimson blue by cherrywhiskey (E, 138k, WangXian, Modern, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Marriage of Convenience, Genius WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Supportive LQR, Bottom LWJ, Eventual mpreg, Protective WWX, BAMF WWX, Caring LWJ, Soap Opera, with plenty of telenovela tropes, like scheming in-laws, sizzling drama, Angst, Romance, AND SO MUCH LOVE & DEVOTION, Power Couple Wangxian, they're smitten with each other, WWX × LQR bonding, Soft LWJ, but he's also got a temper, WWX's debt & duty factor is heavily focused, it's a bit whumpy initially, but Very Very Happy ending, Melodrama)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

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13. Hello I am in the mood for good Sangcheng fic (Jiang Cheng/Nie Huaisang). I would prefer them to be the main focus of that story, although I don't mind other ships as long as Sangcheng is main pairing. It could be any theme but I really like enemies to lovers trope so much. No modern aus please. Thank you.

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14. I am need of fox shifter wei wuxian and dragon lan wanji, add supportive lan grandmaster and and lan xichen. Plz

🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

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15. Hihi!!! Thank you mods your hard work!

I was wondering if you had any fics of Lotus Pier loving their Zongzhu, Da-shixiong and Jin ling? 🙏💜💟🪷

Preferably no chengxian or character bashing

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16. For ITMF: Madam Lan Wei Wuxian? Just him leading the clan beside Lan Wangji? Thanks!

Practical Considerations by teawater, the_anthropologist (E, 97k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Spouses to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Scheming, Lán Elders are assholes, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, eventually BAMF LXC, learning to make decisions, Learning Self-worth, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet Wangxian, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, JC is a big asshole, he improves somewhat but it’s open-ended, POV wwx, POV LWJ, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Teacher wwx, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WWX Protection Squad, Feelings Realization, WWX protector of the twin jades, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Protective LQR, Demonic Cultivator WWX, Married WangXian, Genius WWX, Everybody Lives) the closest fics I can think of are Practical Considerations which has Wei Ying helping Lan Xichen make positive changes to the Lan sect after Wei Ying and Lan Zhan have an arranged marriage and Dispersing Clouds

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) which features Wei Ying being given advice to support the female Lan disciples and manage the household (in chapter 45) and he carries out the advice in the remainder of the story.

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17. hii!! I hope im doing this right. but can you find me a fic where its wlw wangxian? Preferably no modern au’s or oneshots (i will accept all though) Id like for the fic to be long!! Live laugh love lesbian wangxian @mikaoyoo

I have a compilation of canon-era wlw wangxian fic recs here

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[madwomanxx]

Thoughts on Storie from Styx musical

I want to start this off with a disclaimer

I'm going to be mostly talking about Persephone, Hades, and Demeter

This is just Act 1, and these three will take up most of my discussion

Don't tell me this is just inspired by ____it doesn't need to be accurate, because I agree with you!

It doesn't mean I can't compare or explain my thoughts on what works or doesn't work for me in comparison to the original myths

I mean NO hate, nor do I want to shame people, and I'm not saying you have to write anything a certain way

I change many things in my own writing of the gods, which I know a lot of people would hate

I talk about art out love for it or the vision, not out of malice

I also need everyone to know I LOVE these gods and the relationship between Hades and Persphone, so I'm not biased against any of them

Thoughts:

Praise:

1- I'll admit, I was skeptical of Casper's singing prior to the musical. I just didn't like the covers I heard from him, but here? Gorgeous! Amazing vocals that complement the music very well

2- Everyone's vocals are amazing and filled with emotions, the music chosen matches the tone perfectly

3- Hera joining Zeus was good characterization of her, the fact they only duet with each other is a nice touch

These two have a complicated relationship in the myths, and I'm glad to see Casper didn't make them hostile from the start. It's such a simple decision that I adore!

4- I like using the Muses to tell the story, it reminds me of the Iliad beginning with a call for them to tell/sing the story of Achilles' rage

Again, very nice attention to detail!

5- The sound effect on the Muse's voice was explained to bridge between modern times and the mythic times- I believe Casper explained this previously??I love the idea!

I imagine the Muses in a pub singing this into a cheap mic to very lucky mortals

6- I'll get to Demeter later, but if you take her song without the Persephone verse and all the musical context, it's SO PERFECT

Like, I AGREE WITH YOU GIRL!! It just captures her and hell MY feelings too XD!

Everything else:

I'll get this out of the way before anyone comes at me—no, there's not a single version in myths, no Greek or Roman myth EVER says or even implies that Persephone went to Hades willingly, that she knew him in any capacity before he kidnapped her, or that there were any complications between her and Demeter

These are 100% fully modern changes with no basis in myths

Mythology is culture and history, our writings on it don't suddenly become mythology

It's literally a field of study, in college, do they study Madeline Miller's Circe? Or write academic papers on Circe as a source for that ancient civilization? No

The original myth is literally the most feminist thing a society that old ever made

I don't think people fully realize how empowering that myth is

Nor do they bother to think that many women in thirdworld countries still live that reality to an extent

In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Persephone is not feeling trapped or bothered by living on the surface with her mother

literally the opposite:

"She [Persephone] was having a good time, along with the daughters of Okeanos."

I FEEL LIKE I'M TRAPPED OH, I FEEL LIKE I'M FROZEN I FEEL LIKE I’LL NEVER BE THE CHOSEN I’LL NEVER BE THE ONE TO TAKE A STAND

More examples:

I’LL BE YOUR QUEEN, NOT SOME IDEAL FOR BEAUTY SHACKLED ME ABOVE, DOWN HERE, I’D LIKE TO BUILD A LOVE I’M ASKING YOU, DO YOU TRULY SEE ME?

"He seized her against her will, put her on his golden chariot And drove away as she wept. She cried with a piercing voice, calling upon her father [Zeus], the son of Kronos, the highest and the best. But not one of the immortal ones, or of human mortals, heard her voice."

The musical is slightly better than other adaptations of Demeter

she at least seems to be unaware of Persephone's unhappiness

Persephone even says:

MY INNOCENCE IS GUARDED YET MY DAD HAS ME DISCARDED THAT’S WHY A MOTHER’S LOVE’S MY SWORD AND SHIELD

The issue is that Demeter and Persephone don't have any of that. Persephone wasn't happy with Hades at first:

"He (Hermes) found the Lord inside his palace, seated on a funeral couch, along with his duly acquired bedmate, the one who was much under duress, yearning for her mother, and suffering from the unbearable things inflicted on her by the will of the blessed ones."

Then Hades gives a very sweet speech that he'll treat her well (recommend reading it), and you know what Persephone's reaction to it ?

"So he spoke. And high-minded Persephone rejoiced. Swiftly she set out, with joy, but he [Hādēs] gave her, stealthily, the honey-sweet berry of the pomegranate to eat, peering around him. He did not want her to stay for all time over there."

And this is Persephone retelling what happened herself to Demeter:

“So then, Mother, I shall tell you everything, without error. When the messenger came to me, the swift Argos-killer, with the news from my father, the son of Kronos, and from the other dwellers in the sky, that I should come from Erebos, so that you may see me with your own eyes and let go of your wrath and terrifying mēnis against the immortals, then I sprang up for joy, but he, stealthily, put into my hand the berry of the pomegranate, that honey-sweet food, and he compelled me by biē to eat of it."

I don't think I can make it clearer how close and loving they are, so instead :

Why it matters to keep their loving relationship and how it's empowering both

It is an arranged marriage, but both weren't made aware of it.

They were happy together

Persephone is taken

She screams for help

She screams so loud for her father or anyone to help

Nobody hears, and those who do, don't interfere

Her voice gets so loud her mom from far away finally hears

She comes running, Is her daughter going to get raped like she was?

Not many things can hurt gods, after all

She asks and walks the earth calling for Persephone, until finally, Hecate tells her she was taken, but she doesn't know who

They search together aimlessly until Helios, the sun itself, feels pity

He tells her who took Persephone, but he also tells her to give up... basically, suck it up.

Hades is powerful, and he makes for a far better husband than most others

Persephone could do worse

Worse could happen to Persephone

Really, this isn't that bad of an outcome

She won't accept it. The whole world will suffer the same grief the gods have caused her

If her daughter won't be free, then she'll hold the world hostage instead

And it works

Her daughter is back, safely in her arms again

Yet, she's bound to the Underworld for some time of the year

That's not so bad, is it? She won. THEY won

Persephone is free, even if it's only part of the year

But she's not fully trapped down there. She makes her own place. She embraces her darkness and title.

Hades treats her with respect and kindness

Sure, the marriage isn't ideal, but he doesn't just love her—he respects her

And maybe, she can learn to love him too

Gods have different standards, after all

One last thing

I didn't know where to add this so, here

in the musical, Persphone calls out Zeus for disregarding her before Hades even came to the picutre, I actually like this addition

It doesn't really have any basis in myths but it's a clever way of interpreting the lack of myths regarding her and Zeus ( or even her siblings you can argue )

That being why Demeter became her sword and shield

Everything about that verse's implications and set up I love and never saw anyone make something similar to it!

Which adds to my sadness that we're still painting Demeter as unreaonsable or at least doesn't hear her daughter out, Demeter seems like a none abusive version of Mother Gothel ?? this is best way I can describe my feelings

[bluedalahorse]

Thank you, @sflow-er, for a really great and well-thought-out addition! I especially appreciate your choice to talk about this in terms of Watsonian vs Doylist readings; I initially framed this post in terms of writers’ choices and I found that point to be a helpful way of holding me accountable to my initial framing.

We agree on how Simon and August’s relationship played out and how the authorial intent re: August’s arc did not fully match the execution, so I have nothing to add there.

Re: the Wille-Sara interaction, I can also agree with you about the conversations that must have happened “between scenes” such as at the parents’ day lunch and during the book report and so on. I’m up for imagining how some of it played out! I do feel disappointed that we didn’t get to see a little more of it onscreen. A lot of Wilhelm’s interactions with the Eriksson family as a unit seem to be grounded in him charming Linda, which isn’t necessarily a bad writing choice, and it’s fun watching Linda light up in response to Wille’s smalltalk. But in retrospect a few lines where he charms Sara as well wouldn’t hurt.

What’s interesting to me is that we do have scenes where Sara talks about Wille. We see her tease Simon about his crush on him in season 1. At the beginning of season 2 she seems unimpressed with the way Wille always wants Simon to rescue him, but after the Valentine’s ball, she lets Simon open up about his persisting love for Wille. If I remember correctly Sara also assumes that Wille and Felice will go to the Valentine’s ball together, but I’m not 100% certain and will have to rewatch that conversation where Felice tells Sara she’s more interested in going with friends. Overall, in seasons 1 and 2, this writing choice gives the impression that Sara thinks about Wilhelm a bit more than Wilhelm thinks about her, even if they aren’t close. I don’t think the writers intended for that to feel unbalanced, but it stuck out to me as an audience member probably because I’m in too deep with my Sara obsession.

You’re right that things shift a bit in season 3 and it seems like Wilhelm’s thought about Sara more, and one of the things I’m going to pay attention to in my rewatch is the arc of that, because I admit I don’t remember it as well as I’d like to. There’s a scene I particularly want to rewatch where Simon and Wille talk about Sara and Erik, and I remember @heliza24 and I rewinding and rewatching it at the time to figure out what point Wilhelm was actually making. You’re also right that the structure of season 3 as planned didn’t really give Sara and Wilhelm much space to get to know one another in a way that made sense.

If the lack of Sara-Wille interaction became a writers’ room inside joke, I admit it fell flat with me as well. I was one of the fans who believed they were building up to something significant happening between them. I guess it always stings to have one’s hopes dashed!

In light of the discussion I’ve seen so far, I’m also wondering how many fans’ hopes for Sara-Wilhelm interaction were based in a (maybe subconscious) desire to see Wilhelm bond with another character his age without the additional baggage of like… sex and/or romance hanging over his head? Obviously he and Simon are in a romantic relationship, but I think a lot of fans value the idea of Wilhelm having non-romantic support as well. Wilhelm and Felice are best friends, but in a complicated way where, for a time, there was also lingering attraction from Felice’s side at least. Plus there’s all these expectations from their classmates about them becoming a couple. Finally, Wilhelm does open up to Nils, but even then a lot of their conversations center around how discreet relationships should be, and Nils saying he can invite Wille to a party with sex workers. I can see how fans would gravitate toward Sara as someone Wilhelm could connect with on a deeper level without sex/romance being part of the subtext they have to navigate. But again you’re right about the series not being written in a way that would accommodate that. I hope that makes sense!

My reheated s3 take is that August not getting a scene to apologize to Simon and Wilhelm not getting a scene to build a relationship with Sara (beyond exchanging one line) are letdowns in a way that feel deeply interrelated to me.

To be clear: my intention is not to draw a false equivalence between the harm August does to Simon in releasing the video, and Wilhelm’s failure to build a relationship with his boyfriend’s sibling. Instead, I’m struck by how the show tells us that Wilhelm/Simon and Sara/August are both important, formative first loves. The writers also emphasize Sara and Simon’s bond, especially in terms of how they need one another to navigate Micke’s abandonment of them, and likewise stress the need for Wilhelm and August to grieve Erik’s death together. Therefore, it makes sense to close the loop on the Wilhelm-Sara and August-Simon undercurrents running through the series, especially when Simon and August’s conflicts drove a lot of season one and Sara and Wilhelm’s arcs were so paralleled early on.

Maybe I’m biased? As much as I enjoy characters who will move mountains for their love interests, I fall ten times harder for a character who will engage significantly with a third character who means a lot to their love interest. Jane Austen rocks this trope, honestly. I wish we’d seen it play out a little more in Young Royals.

TANGENT: This trope certainly guided heliza and I’s writing when we started Heart and Homeland. In our fic Wilhelm deliberately tries to make sure he learns things about Sara and wins her over because he cares for Simon so much, and he ends up forming a queerplatonic bond with Sara in the process. I’m so invested in their relationship, honestly! Meanwhile, August’s near-reform followed by a dramatic fall from grace (into villainy, even, because I do write a decent villain August if I say so myself) hinges on a vow he makes to Sara—one where he’ll patch things up with Simon—that he later breaks. And much earlier in the story, August does save Simon’s life while Simon’s in the process of saving Wilhelm’s, something that Sara witnesses and remembers.

Anyway, not everything needs to be like my fic. I know I’m being a little ridiculous here. Cough END TANGENT.

At the same time, it was truly surprising to me that the writers of YRS3 didn’t pull on those Sara-Wilhelm or August-Simon threads more. Especially since the creators are on record as saying they assumed the audience would assume that August would apologize to Simon and attempt to repair his harm someday. And based on Sara’s reaction to Wilhelm in the car, I guess we’re also supposed to assume they’ll be friendly and develop a deeper bond someday.

Sometimes it feels like there was meant to be more on the August-Simon and Sara-Wilhelm fronts though. There’s little hints here and there in earlier seasons. Wilhelm being a former rider when Sara loves horses. The fact that the production team cut a line from Wilhelm to Sara in the s2 field scene (the only line that they’d really exchanged thus far) as if they were saving their interaction for something big in s3. The time when August defends Simon against Vincent after the whole rowing team drama. The fact that August has a father with addiction issues in common with the Eriksson siblings. Like. Were there storylines or sequences of dialogue that got cut? What’s the behind the scenes story there?

I specifically wanted to talk about this as an issue of the choices the writers made, rather than an issue of what good or evil innately lurks in a character’s heart. Again, the writers assumed the audience would know that August has become the kind of person who will apologize to Simon and repair the harm he did. Malte talks about August’s growth in interviews—not overstating it, but being honest about how the character’s changed. And I can see plenty writing choices that support that idea of August’s growth! I think there’s a lot that fanwriters can play with and expand upon! Yet those writing choices are undermined by the writers’ choice to not close the loop on August and Simon’s earlier conflicts, and differentiate those as separate from August and Wilhelm’s conflicts. I personally tend to see this as a reflection of the writers’ failure-to-communicate rather than a reflection of the eternal evil of August’s corrupted soul or whatever, and approach my fanfic accordingly. Yet I still see some analyses argue that he’s “canonically” a villain and… it just doesn’t quite mesh with what I’m seeing from the show.

Meanwhile, maybe it’s just me who has this arbitrary goalpost that Wilhelm should have had more meaningful interaction with Sara beyond the one line they exchange and her car being his getaway. But it still feels like their s3 interaction was meant to be more significant? Sara is the beloved-then-estranged sibling of the guy Wilhelm is in love with, she is the cried-over-and-missed other best friend of Wilhelm’s best friend, she is the girl who turned Wilhelm’s jerkass playboy cousin into a puddle of vulnerable enamored goo. She is Fröken Ramirez’s favorite Lucia FFS! (Okay the last one was me being silly, but you know.) If I were Wilhelm, I might be more curious about Sara, especially after she returns to school again and is ostracized by the school population at large. And maybe Wilhelm isn’t meant to be curious about Sara, but that still feels like a thread that got dropped given how it felt like Sara and Wilhelm were deliberately kept apart in earlier seasons. (Has anyone asked the writers about this? Does anyone know the official response? I’m dying to know, now.)

Anyway, this isn’t meant to be a “fuck the writers! fuck season 3 forever!” post because I genuinely did like some of the character arcs and some of the choices and I should probably rewatch season 3 over my upcoming time-away-from-work so I can post about that. But the dropped threads re: Sara-Wilhelm and Simon-August are what I ended up thinking about this morning. I really cared about how those relationships were gonna play out.

There’s a whole other post I could make about Felice but that’s for another day. Perhaps after a rewatch!

[why-the-heck-not]

christmas fire alarm count: 2

[hana-bobo-finch]

i am one day late to my own character’s birthday but whatever better late than never. this image popped up in my head last night and I felt obligated to make it

for context Tornado is the name of the only social networking site on fincg island and C.C. is. very into the occult and would definitely think this is a halfway decent thing to do (it is not)

og

[gutsby]

Halftime

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: A chance meeting a week before Thanksgiving leaves you and your dad’s best friend to handle your feelings the only way you know how: fucking on the couch when your dad falls asleep during the game.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Age gap. Soft dom!Joel. Daddy kink. Praise kink (!) Makeup sex. Pussy pronouns.

Note: ‘Or maybe on a fifty yard line watchin’ Bama beat the hell out of Tennessee’ is a line from Riley Green’s ‘Hell of a Way to Go.’ I was in Knoxville when we played this year, but in my fic, Alabama wins. If you’re a Vols fan, I’m sorry. And RMFT.

Word count: 10.5k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Guilt brought you home, and liquor helped you stay.

These were two of the shittiest things a daughter could admit, but the fact was that you simply wouldn’t be here if your dad hadn’t broken his leg at work last week. That you wanted to help, but your patience was thin, and the only way you knew how to reconcile the two was to drink. A lot. Friday you came home, and by midday Saturday, sometime around eleven or twelve, you were plastered.

Staggering up the front steps of your childhood home with Theresa Servopoulos—newfound friend from camp and the heaviest drinker you’d met in a long, long time—hot on your heels. You’d just had brunch, and the meal was mostly liquid. Bottomless mimosas had been Frank’s idea, and when his husband Bill had offered to be the DD after the fact, you’d had no choice but to accept, really. You drank your weight in citrus and champagne and spent the whole morning getting to know Tess’s friends. As your state of intoxication progressed, you’d told them your troubles and all that had been plaguing you lately.

Now, hours later, you didn’t want to think at all.

You wanted to sit your ass down on the couch, turn the TV on to Disney+, and spend the next three to thirteen more binging Star Wars spin-offs and discussing with Tess at length whether Katee Sackhoff or Timothy Olyphant was the more fuckable supporting actor.

“Honestly…I’d let Jabba the Hutt hit,” you confessed, slurring your words a little as you fumbled for your key.

“You’re fucking lying,” Tess half-groaned, half-laughed.

She watched you try and jam metal into metal and fail twice before steeling herself against a rocking chair and reaching out her hand. You waved it away. At a distance, you heard the hum of an engine and another voice, loud:

“You ladies need a little help over there or wha-at?”

That was Frank. He was arguably the most drunk out of the three of you and hanging his handsome, greying head out of the passenger side of Bill’s Chevy S-10. He’d seen you try and fail with the key, too, and seemed more eager than ever to lend a hand, while his husband was likely kicking himself for ever offering to drive you back.

Tess gripped the porch chair harder and gestured, dazed.

“Give her a minute, she’s—” She hiccuped once. “—intelligent and entirely capable. She’s got this, OK?”

You didn’t. You really didn’t. And by the way you were finessing this key you didn’t feel too fucking smart either. You crammed your key against the tight, rigid slot in the front door of your home, missed it completely, and then wondered, dimly, how men were able to aim their dicks.

How Joel ever managed to fit that massive, throbbing—

“Fuck!” you cursed, kicking the doorframe with a huff.

The periphery of your vision was spinning and swimming a little now, and before you knew it, Tess had snatched your keychain from out of your hand. She got to work.

And while she did, you turned back to Bill and Frank, whose truck was still idling quietly in your driveway.

Frank had an eyebrow raised. His chin was in his palm, and his elbow was planted in the car’s open window. With that look alone, you knew what he wanted to say.

“Fine…fine,” you capitulated in a loud, droning shout. Head spinning, “You can give him my fucking number.”

Frank grinned at that.

“No shit?” he yelled back.

“Yeah. I really am that horny.”

From somewhere in the car, Bill groaned his disapproval. Frank’s smile only widened. It’d been his idea to set you up with one of their neighbors after you’d divulged all of your dating life turmoils over eggs benedict and grits that morning—how fucking your dad’s best friend had, in fact, not been the wisest decision and you needed something new to get your mind off the man for a little while. Frank had been all too happy to offer supplying your number to the so-called ‘dreamboat’ next door to them. Initially, you’d brushed it off, but the longer you stood on this porch contemplating the hellish few days you’d be spending at home for Thanksgiving, the more you drunkenly reasoned a dick might do you some good.

And if it wasn’t from Joel Miller, even better. You leaned against the nearest porch column and pointed at Frank.

Then at Bill, squinting dumbly and faux-accusingly.

“I’m desperate, but I’m trusting y’all, too, alright?”

You wanted to get fucked, not fucked over, again. Frank seemed to understand right away and nodded his head.

“I’ll give him your number, tell him you’re hot—which you are—and you two can work something out. It’ll be fine.”

He pointed back at you, still smiling, and you hoped it would be. Behind you, Tess had solved the puzzle of the chrome-plated house key, and had thrust the door open. She stumbled inside, and your feet started to follow hers.

“Tell Tess to text us your number!” Frank had to cup his hands saying it, as Bill was already starting to pull away.

You nodded and waved. Watched the world veer sideways and your kind, considerate, hammered new friend-of-a-friend repeat how great this was going to be—this guy’ll do you so good you’ll forget Joel exists—while you backed into the house. A gust of warm air from inside pricked at your skin, and along with that touch came the tiniest trace of hope. A sanguine sort of warmth that twisted low in your gut and made you smile.

And cup your hands, as Frank had, while calling to him:

“How old is Mr. Dreamboat, anyway?!”

The truck was crunching its ways down the gravel drive. Its path was slow, though, and Frank’s voice was clear.

“FORTY-ONE!”

It was as though you were hearing those words in a dream. You almost couldn’t help what you said next.

Fanning yourself, you yelled back, “I lo-o-o-ve that!”

“What?!”

Frank hadn’t heard you. They were farther away now.

You had to practically scream it now, but you were drunk enough that you didn’t really care. Tess was entertained, half-hunched on the floor and trying to work off her shoes while she laughed at this stupid exchange.

In truth, it didn’t matter how loud you yelled, because you lived on several dozen acres of land, and your dad wasn’t home. He’d told you that he was hitching a ride with Tommy to their usual weekend haunt to watch the Alabama-Tennessee game, and it started an hour ago. The house was empty, and you were free to screech.

“I said, ‘I love that’!”

“Yeah? Love what?!”

Frank was hanging halfway out of the passenger window by now, and his face was flushed with moronic humor.

Bill was probably grinding his teeth together as he drove.

“O-O-O-OLD MEN!” you shrilled, as loud as you could.

Next thing you knew, Tess was on the floor. Wheezing.

It didn’t matter whether Frank could hear you now; evidently, he’d gotten the message. Their truck was crawling down your drive with a low, rumbling crackle, and the eyes that were still glued to yours were shining.

Before they turned out of sight, Frank waved again and blew you a kiss, as you and Tess had done to him at some point earlier that day. He slipped back into the car, and your sides were nearly aching from how hard you were giggling—nothing was even that particularly funny, but with a nice noontime buzz and Tess’s relentless cackling from across the foyer, you couldn’t help it. You shut the door, staggered over, and were about to drop.

Right when you were about to collapse, though, Tess wobbled up. You saw her raise two hands in front of her.

“I’m— I’m gonna pee…or puke…possibly,” she warned.

That wasn’t good.

You pointed up.

“First door on your left. Do you need any—”

But Tess was already staggering off. You might’ve laughed again, and trailed after her with a plea to try not to projectile vomit all over those nice festive towels your dad had bought, but the moment came and went quick. In fact, it wasn’t even brought to an end by your friend’s departure but rather the screech of her feet on the floor.

Nearly tripping over herself to leave, then crashing into something else before she could. You heard a thwack.

Then her huff, ‘Fuck. Sorry!’ And you turned.

You looked up and cursed.

Again, you felt like you might be in a dream. Only this time, the sight had more of a nightmarish hue, and you had only to grip the edge of a chair—no, a table, a side table—beside you in the hall to keep yourself upright.

Your sweet, sloppy-drunk friend had run straight into Joel. She was raising her hands again and saying sorry.

You could tell she meant it, too. She was just shaking her head, appearing to try and rid herself of the stunned, dumbfounded feelings, when she tilted her chin up.

Then, somehow even brighter, she smiled in recognition.

“Lucien Flores!”

Not missing a beat, like you knew she wouldn’t:

“You fucking prick.”

Of course she was sober enough to remember his face. The time she’d mistaken him for an uptight FEDRA counselor back at camp. How you’d fucked him on her bunk. All the shit-talking you’d been doing about him since, too. You knew she wasn’t a woman to mince words, so it didn’t surprise you in the slightest when next she placed a hand on his pec, patted it lightly and added:

“You’re an asshole. A spineless, slimy, sad sack of shit.”

Joel blinked as she walked past him, toward the stairs.

“Good to see you, too, Tess.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Theresa.”

You hadn’t even meant to say the last aloud; it just came out. Tess was holding the rail, going slow but determined to get upstairs without losing her food all over the floor.

The next thing you heard was the slam of the bathroom door. You winced and thought of your dad’s decorative towels a moment. That thought was then supplanted by another, though you pretended not to feel it, at least outwardly. You brushed past Joel to go to the kitchen.

Why was he here? He surely wouldn’t have come unless your father was there, and your dad was supposed to be watching the Vols take the ass-beating of a lifetime from the Tide. Or maybe vice-versa. You weren’t sure how the latter was doing since Saban retired. You rubbed one temple as you opened a cabinet and looked for a glass.

Reconsidering, you opted for a plastic cup instead.

Your head was throbbing as you walked to the sink.

You sensed you likely weren’t of a mind to be holding anything fragile, and the second that followed only proved it. A footfall sounded by the kitchen island, and you flinched, dropping your cup like a fucking idiot.

“Where’s my dad?” you blurted out, not thinking.

You didn’t want his voice to be the first to fill the silence. You picked your cup off the floor and turned on the tap.

More silence followed. You couldn’t be sure if it was your own drunken paranoia or a genuine feeling of two eyes on your back, but your skin bristled. You were prepared to pose the question again when your answer came in the form of a new sound: not Joel’s voice, but another’s.

An announcer, apparently. You turned your head and saw ESPN on the living room TV, where the game was playing. In front of the screen, your dad was supine on his recliner. His jaw hung slack, and his eyes were shut.

So much for those morning beers with Tommy.

His leg was armored with a boot: a real, no-bullshit cast meant to protect the tibia he’d shattered, propped up in front of him while the other dangled haphazardly from the chair. You watched him, feeling an odd mix of pity, nausea, and love, and for a second, you didn’t think to move. This man was the reason you were home, after all—and why Joel was, too. You almost forgot your anger.

Your cup was full. Overflowing. You turned off the sink, then poured what excess you could as your hand shook.

You shouldn’t have been holding anything in that moment, off-kilter and unnerved as you were, but you wanted to seem occupied. You inhaled and started past Joel again, who was leaning against the counter, quiet.

He still didn’t talk, and let you stroll about half a foot in front of him before you felt the cup lift out of your hand.

“Hey—” you started.

But Joel was resuming your path before you could finish. He’d snagged the water from your grasp and made his way out of the kitchen, calmly, and you didn’t have to ask to know where he was going. You felt a pang of rekindled resentment but said nothing, knowing that was useless.

Arrogant motherfucker. Patronizing asshole. Clearly, you couldn’t be trusted to carry a cup of fucking water up the stairs in your own home, so he had had to do it for you. You went over to your father in the living room, blinking through a dozen more pissed off thoughts, when you glanced down at one of your hands again. You winced.

Stop shaking.

You needed to stay busy. Make use of those dumb, trembling hands while Joel was here and not let him see that it was all from memories of him—not the mimosas—that you couldn’t keep a steady hold to save your life.

You started to clean, mindlessly. Cleared the old coffee table of its manifold beer cans and plates of stale pizza. You walked with an unsteady gait, the room still tilting a little, but you ended up getting a decent amount cradled in your arms and into the trash or the sink shortly after.

You had just taken a bite of a slice of pepperoni and made a face when your dad shifted in his seat, letting out a grunt. Still unconscious, he rubbed at his arms. The house around him was warm, but never quite enough for a man who appeared to have been born cold-blooded. After years of this, you knew the routine; you dropped your pizza, went to the thermostat, and cranked it to 75.

Less than a minute later, it came: “Boiling us alive, huh?”

It was the first you’d heard from Joel since he spoke his curt greeting to Tess. You were over by the closet getting a blanket, and Joel was stood in the doorway, frowning.

You turned, holding up the big wool throw for him to see before you went back over to your dad in the recliner.

“He needs it,” you replied, gaze averted.

“By ‘it’ you mean his electric bill gone through the roof?”

He could be such a father sometimes. The worst kind.

“No, keeping him fucking warm, Joel.”

And the end of the last sentence you hadn’t meant to be so loud. Or mean. You didn’t really care whether it offended him, but the thought of waking your dad to hear that—being rude to your ‘Uncle Joel,’ as your dad had so innocently called the man last month—was awful. You squinted seeing him stir under the blanket, but then he turned to the side and snored even louder. You sighed.

“Doctor’s got him on some heavy painkillers. He’s been out since before the last game even ended,” Joel said.

You glanced at the TV. The game was crawling to halftime at a snail’s pace, by the looks of it. You smiled, seeing those puke-pumpkin-hued fucks getting smoked. In a second, though, the curve of your lips was fading.

“Will you stop?”

Your voice was shrill. You hurried over to Joel, who was busy dicking around with the thermostat and trying to get it down to 68 degrees—freezing, in your dad’s mind.

“It’s too hot.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re being—”

“This isn’t your fuckin’ house, Miller! Quit!”

“Yell a little louder, why don’t y—” Joel began to scold.

You wouldn’t let him. Of all things to get on your ass about now, volume wasn’t the hill he’d die on today. Before you even realized what you two were doing, you shoulder-checked him like you might do an annoying brother, and his arm wound swiftly around your front. It didn’t hurt, but it sure as hell made you mad to be held.

You made a jab at Joel’s ribs and ignored the grunt from him. Anger was a natural defense—your default state.

Every last semi-tranquil encounter you’d shared with someone you cared about before was always marred by rage at some point, and with Joel, it came as easy as breathing. If you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off, you were ripping him a new one, or he was grating your nerves. You didn’t get along, and you likely never would.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t need there somewhere. You just smothered it with something hostile, constantly.

You wished it would go away. You shoved at his arm.

“You’re gonna wake him,” you hissed, strained.

“Yeah? That’s what you’re worried about?”

You wriggled against Joel’s hold and, scrunching your nose, made a pass for the dial on the wall. He caught it.

Now he was holding your hand in one of his, and your shoulder with the other as his forearm crossed your chest. Joel’s frame was looming over yours, and you glared ahead of you, where the screen still read ‘68.’

You could throttle him—Joel Miller simply refused to lose

“Is that all you’ve gotta say to me, after this whole time?”

His breaths were tight like yours, but the voice was slow.

“What else is there to say?” you snapped.

“You’ve been ignoring me all month.”

“I’m in college. I have shit to do.”

“Like block all of my calls?”

“Go fuck yourself, Joel.”

“Just tell me why.”

“Fuck. You.”

Your last two caustic words were still warm on your tongue when Joel turned you around. Again, he wasn’t forceful or harsh—your looks had enough vitriol for the two of you—but he pushed your body against the wall. Right beside the thermostat, your spine straightened, and your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist.

“Is that an invitation?” he hummed, voice palpably lower.

Un-fucking-believable, you thought. Of course, it was.

Silently, you prided yourself in wearing a dress that day. It wasn’t the short, red-and-white gingham thing you’d worn to the fair with Joel last month, but it was loose. Flowing. Easy enough for him to hike up your legs, sliding a coarse, warm palm up your thigh while the other held you tight to the wall. His hips pinned yours, and with that gesture, you felt him hard and desperate in denim.

“Need me to fuck you now or what? Is that the only way I’m getting a word out of this mouth?” he pressed again.

Honestly, it was. You nodded once to say as much.

Then he pushed you harder against the wall. He wrestled with his jeans just enough for you to hear a belt, and a button, and a short, sharp zip come down, and your mind was swimming with filthy ideas when he grunted.

Joel nosed your cheek, and a hand made its way to your mouth. You sucked in a breath right before you felt three fingertips graze the seam of your lips. Prying them open.

“If I’m fucking you here, I need more than a nod, kid.”

You really, really hated him now. This felt like a game. His index curled into your bottom teeth and pulled your mouth open wider, while his own was smiling, faintly. It was hard to talk with his fingers skirting your tongue—his warm, bare member springing out and grazing your folds through your panties down below—but you tried.

Your words were muffled as you spoke, “Please fuck me.”

Clearly, that was all Joel needed. With an easy nudge from the head of his cock, he pushed your underwear to the side, and his grin got bigger when he felt you soaked.

You were drooling down his length, and he hadn’t so much as touched you before he pushed you up against his body. It felt almost shameful as he slid himself inside.

Then, in the next moment, your brain went blank. Your bodies were joined completely, and Joel had you seated all the way down to the base of his cock, where a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair tickled your skin. His fingers hung limply from your lips while he nestled in; when you groaned, he used his middle and index to stifle the noise.

“Shh, hey—” he started, as if suddenly remembering where he was, and whose daughter he was fucking, “You’re okay. You’re good…I know that feels good.”

You despised him even more when he was right. He pressed the heft of his belly into you, and with the friction, you couldn’t help but whimper against his hand.

“Fuck you,” you bit again, this time through fingers.

“I am.”

Then he pushed them in further, and he made you suck. Joel started fucking you gently against the wall, and with the first few strokes, you knew you’d be putty soon enough. You focused on feeling and trying not to whine.

“I’ve been texting,” Joel continued, breath labored, sounding half-crazed, “Calling every chance I got—”

He paused to jerk his hips harder. Make you bounce on his cock or maybe just hold him closer from the force of it. And you did, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and reluctantly burying your face into the side.

He was familiar, that was for sure. You tensed seeing something else familiar—your dad in the next room—and preemptively swallowed a moan while Joel kept going.

Fucking you stupid and talking to you, per usual.

“—to make sure you were OK,” he finished, panting.

Pulling his fingers from your lips so you could answer:

“I’m fine.”

“Are we?”

“You lied to me!”

And no sooner had he retracted his hand that he needed to clamp his palm over your mouth. You’d said that loud.

In the next room over, through the open space between the kitchen and the den, you heard your dad snore softly. When your gaze flitted back to Joel’s, it was like you were chiding the other at once—whose idea was this, anyway? Slowly, he moved his hand down, but his gaze was stern.

“Didn’t mean to lie,” Joel answered, now lower than ever.

“But you did. Dad’s been fucking his old sidepiece, my mom’s best friend, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was my place—”

“Your place?!” You made sure to keep your indignation hushed this time, but your eyes went wide. Incredulous.

You would’ve shoved Joel off if he hadn’t moved first. Neither one of you had had a fraction of the presence of mind to be thinking straight here, obviously, so when he carried you closer to a table in an adjoining room, all you were thinking was how not to lose your cool completely. When Joel tried to set you down on the wooden surface, you slipped away. You moved to the couch; you weren’t even considering where you were going, just that you wanted more of him, and you needed to be done quick.

If that meant fucking on the sofa behind your dad’s recliner, so be it. Joel balked a second before following.

“Are you…?” he started, voice no louder than a whisper.

“What? Not your ‘place’ here, either?” you shot back.

Admittedly, you were both insane. No matter how far away your dad’s sleeping form happened to be, or how thoroughly knocked out he appeared from the drugs, this was batshit, objectively. Joel’s eyes narrowed at you.

Then he moved some more. Casting a sidelong glance at the recliner less than ten feet away, he gripped himself and gave you a look as if to say, ‘Are we crazy now, or…?’

You nodded to confirm that you were.

By moving again, apparently, Joel was saying the same.

Except now it wasn’t with words but with a look—eyeing you hungrily and setting all rational, sane thought aside to climb over the couch to you. Your legs were spread.

Joel slotted himself quickly between them, then inside you, without another word. His body crowded yours. The scent you knew was also the fragrance you hated most: the smell of his American Spirits. He tried to kiss you with those lips, and you dodged them, choosing instead to hold the coarse greyish hairs at the nape of his neck and pull them. Draw him closer to your body without letting him get too close to you. Joel let out a grunt.

His hips rutted in short, quick, shallow motions again, like he was desperate to feel anything. When you wouldn’t accept his lips on yours, they fell to the side of your face. He held your sides while he dragged his cock in and out of your pulsing heat, and his breaths fanned heavy on your cheek. His stubble was sharp on your skin.

“Anything you want,” he huffed shortly.

His mouth was right by your ear, and his words were spoken in a breath. And another. And another. Still panting and dragging his old, weary hips back and forth in an effort to pleasure you. He felt indescribably good.

“Want…what?” you murmured back.

You clawed at his torso and locked your legs around his waist. You glanced over at the recliner, turned away from the couch, thankfully, and hoped it wouldn’t move again. Your dad’s breaths were deep, and so was Joel inside you

Sliding a hand under your head and cradling your body to his, and still maintaining a bruising pace with his cock—you almost couldn’t take it. You wanted to come undone.

And there Joel went, murmuring in your ear. Battling the urge not to get too loud with your father there, but still:

“I’ll do anything…anything you want.”

“W-Why? For what?”

“To say I’m sorry.”

“You don’t—”

But your words were cut short. For a second, your heart leapt into your throat thinking the sound was coming from your dad’s old chair, and then you realized that it wasn’t. Just the same, your terror spiked again when you sensed it was somewhere inside—coming from the back.

“Can I get a…ROLL TIDE?!” someone yelled.

Tommy Miller wasn’t even an Alabama fan.

Still, it seemed he was here to celebrate like one anyway. You froze momentarily, taking in the shout, then the steps, then the linoleum floor of the mud room being shuffled across before the boots were kicked off quick.

His brother was quicker. Joel climbed off of you in a blink, jeans and boxers trailing just as fast. Then his hands were dropping to you, gripping your arms, and heaving you up. You stumbled. You shoved your skirt down, fast, and barely had the time to breathe while you skittered after Joel, still in his hold. The two of you ran like hell: quiet, but like your asses might’ve been on fire. You made it out to the foyer, and from there, you could hear Tommy making a fuss in the kitchen. Joel strode three steps at a time going up the stairs, and behind him, you nearly face-planted. He tugged you up then, swiftly.

Silent as death at the top of the stairs and trying to usher you into a room, not saying a word. You dug in your heels

“Wait. Wait—Tess?”

“Napping in the tub.”

Of course. You cast one last pensive look at the bathroom door before you let Joel nudge you away.

You were pushed into a room; you knew it was yours. Steeped as you were in fear, shame, and lingering inebriation, you couldn’t waste a second getting in—and neither could Joel. His frame followed close while Tommy’s old, familiar sounds grew louder downstairs. He ushered you further, walked you forward, pushed you in an inch or two too far, and before you knew it, your knees were bumping along the front of your bed. You tripped.

Your hands flew out to break your fall. Unfortunately, the limbs that were meant to stay straight were weaker than you’d hoped, and instead of holding you up, they crumpled beneath your weight. You fell on your face.

The spot where you landed was soft, though.

You let out a muffled grunt into cotton sheets.

Across from where you lay, Joel’s steps were slow—painstakingly so—and when you’d propped yourself up and blinked again and again to adjust your eyes to the dim half-light of the room, you could see him there. Pacing. Skating a look to the doorknob, as if checking to make sure he’d locked the thing properly, then running a hand through his hair. From your perch, you saw a wince.

Then his face turned to you. Again—guilty.

What the fuck am I doing here with you?

That was what you thought you saw in his expression, anyway. You felt compelled to ask him the very same.

“Why are you here? Why is Tommy here?” As if to punctuate your question, more footfalls followed, loud, “I thought he was taking my dad to the bar. And you—”

“I know. He was supposed to. Then he texted and said your dad crashed before the Notre Dame game even ended, so he figured he’d head over to the bar himself.”

You were about to speak, but Joel continued.

“I said he was an idiot to leave your dad home alone, since the man can hardly walk on his own. So I came.”

You swallowed. While some momentary swell of gratitude threatened to constrict your throat, you forced out a frown and scooted back. The room swayed a little.

“That the only reason?” you asked, clipped.

At the foot of the bed, Joel held your gaze. It was stern. Your own vacillating look was no match for the man who, in spite of the two or ten beers he’d likely guzzled that morning, could stand firm. Prop his hands on his hips.

Look every bit the displeased fatherly figure while he watched you crawl across the plush, pink bed at length.

It wasn’t right. You saw it in his eyes: the want painted there, however burdened by shame they might’ve been. No doubt seeing your childhood bedroom had kicked the guilt into overdrive, reminding him, plainly, that he was his age, and you were yours. And his best friend’s kid. The irises that shone in the glow of warm white fairy lights overhead flitted to the canopy where they hung. Joel sized up the mesh overtaking most of your bed, all flowing and girlish and juvenile as it cascaded from the four wooden posters, and he had to shake his head. He blinked faster, as if trying to rid himself of some thought.

“I’ll go,” he choked out.

“Alright.”

You unzipped your dress and let it fall to the bed the second Joel had started to turn. He stopped. Got himself an eyeful and probably could’ve bruised every fingertip from how hard he tightened his grip along his belt loops.

He watched you slip out of the fabric, then brush it aside. Clothed in just your bra and panties, you went to the nightstand and opened a drawer. You leaned down.

And, while you kneeled and bent over to reach, Joel was afforded a too-perfect view of the wet patch in the fabric between your legs. You could’ve sworn you heard a groan before you crawled back over to the place where you’d been—American Spirits and a lighter now in your hand.

“Where’d you…” Joel started, only to lose his train of thought the moment you sat and unclasped your bra.

You lit up, comfortably. Nodding to the window.

“Mind opening that?” you asked him.

Joel stood back and stared. He squared his shoulders, seeming poised to say ‘no,’ when his gaze dropped lower.

“Those’ll kill you.” But he was just looking at your breasts

Reluctantly, he moved from where he’d fixed himself at the center of your room and walked over to the window. He slid the pane up, but he didn’t let his gaze stray from you too long. As soon as the smoke found a place to go, he turned. He shook his head again. You smiled, then.

“These are yours,” you replied. You bared your teeth at him with the cigarette in between them, teasing a little.

After, you closed your lips and inhaled once. You blew a breath through your nose and let the smoke trail out. Joel scowled as he took a step closer to your bed.

Somewhere downstairs Tommy had cranked the game up louder. You could hear the blare of fanfare and a booming, cheery voice announcing a first down.

Meanwhile, Joel’s jaw hadn’t flinched. His lips were still curled in that sour, unsightly grimace. He had to have gotten a good deal of practice doing that while you were away, with every text, call, and FaceTime you’d declined over the past month, you imagined. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of being ignored as it was getting smoke blown into his face that made him irritated. Galled, even.

Joel made a pass for your mouth as if to take the cigarette away, but you were too quick. You slid back.

“Finders keepers,” you chided, trying not to giggle.

“Give it.”

“Make me.”

“Kid, don’t start.”

Joel’s face was turning pink as he leaned in again. In no more than a second, though, you’d made it safely out of his reach. He had to plant a knee on your bedspread, grit his teeth even tighter, and stretch his frame further in, and just when he’d gotten within half a foot from where you sat perched at the head of the bed, you felt a snap.

Or perhaps heard a groan and surmised the rest. Joel cursed, ‘Fuck!’ then fell to his elbow, hissing with pain.

He gripped his side, and he winced. Your eyes went wide.

“Joel?”

The cigarette fell from your lips; as soon as it did, Joel swept a brusque, graceless touch in your direction. He held tight to his side while he swatted the thing away. The second the still-lit stick hit the covers, Joel had it brushed to the side, sending it flying off of your bed.

His nostrils flared when he stood again. He crushed the cigarette underfoot. He looked pleased—then pained.

“Joel!” you hissed. This time reaching for him, and catching him narrowly before he lurched into your bed.

“‘M’alright. Stop, stop. It’s okay.”

Joel grunted, low. He held one bedpost. He clutched somewhere on his body close to the small of his back, and you could tell he felt a strain. He noticeably tensed.

“I’m fine.” And then he was starting to wave you off, too, “Lifetime of smoking’ll do that to you. And turning forty.”

You believed him. What you wouldn’t accept was how fast he tried to bend down and retrieve the cigarette from the floor. His cheeks flushed red with the effort.

And just when he’d started to tilt, you tugged him back.

You gripped his shirt and yanked him onto the bed.

Maybe that wasn’t the best for the muscle he’d pulled. At any rate, though, it was better than straining another by trying to pick up a cigarette butt, you reasoned. You hadn’t even jerked him that hard, and your bed was soft. Joel fell with a thud amidst a sea of satin, plush faux fur, a half-dozen pillows, and a mound of stuffed animals. His lips frowned as if annoyed, but the eyes betrayed relief. He breathed out a shallow puff of air once he’d settled.

“You need to stop smoking.” Grumbling now, of course.

You wanted to pinch the pout clean off his mouth.

“Yeah, really, Joel? You first,” you shot back.

“I’m old.”

“No shit.”

“Watch it.”

For someone who’d practically thrown out his back just bending at the waist, Joel Miller loved to wax poetic on the dangers of Big Tobacco. And getting old. By the time he groaned and laid flat, you decided you’d had enough of this sexless intermission, and you straddled his hips.

“Wh—” Joel huffed in protest, pushing at hands all too eager to act on his belt, “You still haven’t answered me.”

“What was the question?” you returned, careless.

But you knew it clear as day: Are we alright?

The old man didn’t stop the path of your hands, but he certainly made a show to try and pretend to stall their speed. He watched, curiosity piqued and shame still roiling in his gut, and he let you unbuckle, unzip, and finally free him from the confines of his briefs. He sighed.

It was then that you felt him hard against your palm, firm as he was before. Your mouth watered even more. When your eyes flitted up to his for permission, you didn’t expect to find resistance there, so the subsequent grip around your wrist took you back. Joel seized hold of your hand in his, and, rather than stopping you completely, he paused it in place. Sank your touch into his groin, as though tempting you with the outline of his bare length.

That was cruel. He knew what feeling him did to you.

“You know exactly what question I meant.”

What such a move would do to any girl in your position—freshly fucked and eager for more—and in your bed, no less. You didn’t care for the guilt Joel harbored today; he didn’t get to demand answers you weren’t ready to give.

“What? Feeling bad for boning your friend’s kid all of a sudden?” You smiled, voice devoid of any humor as you tried to pivot subjects, “Didn’t look like that downstairs.”

Shame flared in Joel’s eyes. Two could play at this game.

His grip tightened around your wrist, and he kept it still. In spite of this hold, you were able to flex your fingers the tiniest bit and take him snugly in your hand. He held you, and you held him, and for the next few excruciating moments, that was all either of you could do. Until:

“I would do it again.”

And then Joel’s touch was moving yours. Rubbing him. Seizing your hip with his free hand and rocking you back.

Making you hold his gaze while his dick swelled bigger.

“I don’t care if that’s wrong,” he added through his teeth.

“Wrong,” you mumbled absently. Touching him more.

It was as though you both were rooted in place by warring feelings—Joel by guilt, and you by knowing. Needing each other, and being unable to break apart. Words flowed like molasses; their end was no less sweet.

“I’d fuck you anywhere you asked if you would just—” Joel broke off suddenly, taking a breath, “Forgive me.”

Please.

The eyes beneath yours were pained with remorse.

You squeezed him tighter, and you stared more carefully.

“Here?” It left you more like a breath.

“Here.”

Your skull still buzzed. Your vision still wavered some. You could scarcely hope to know what it was that made this man a worse intoxicant than every drink you’d guzzled that morning, but the way he reached for your body and slid you back in the bed made answers pointless anyway. All you needed to know was that he wanted you, too. You could sort out the rest of it later; you let him lie you down

Joel was out of place here, that much was obvious. Clearly, no man skating through middle age belonged in the bedroom of a girl as young as you—and that was overlooking the paternal connection altogether—but all the same, he guided you back. Trailed your body with his. If it weren’t for the greys and the striations on his face and the legions of freckles bred from decades spent baking under the sun, he might’ve struck you as a much younger man. His every move now seemed to show it.

His hands shook like yours had earlier.

He watched you slide under the covers, then swallowed.

“Still cold?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a long look, as though considering what to say. You beckoned him over and decided to talk for him.

“Like father, like daughter, I guess,” you added. Teasing.

You could hear the groan start to bubble in his throat, but Joel let you pull him in. He climbed under the sheets.

Like a much younger, doubly nervous teen around his date past curfew, he slotted between your legs with a moment’s indecision. He shed his clothes but was slow. Your gaze flitted to his torso, then his legs, and watching him gingerly undress, you couldn’t help but grin a little.

Both of you were naked in under a minute. Joel’s body was like a furnace searing hot between your thighs.

And while you smiled at him, he frowned down at you.

You might’ve expected anything next, except hearing:

“We aren’t gonna be parents anytime soon, right?”

You choked.

“What?”

Joel blinked.

“The Plan B, I mean,” he went on, color crawling up to his cheeks. He blinked harder, like he’d been dreading this, “Wasn’t sure if you ever got your…yeah. Just wonderin’.”

Just wondering.

After Joel’s Cenozoic-era condom had broken the first time you two had ever fucked, you realized you hadn’t bothered to tell him if you ended up getting your period. He’d probably been trying to ask that over the course of several dozen unanswered texts and calls the last month, but you’d been radio silent. Your drinking today had to have given the truth away, but you still felt a pang of guilt

You admired his sincerity. You didn’t want to mock it.

But when your lips twitched the tiniest bit, Joel’s did too. He’d heaved a sigh of relief before you’d even answered him in words, and for a moment, things were easy again.

“I’m sorry, Miller. That probably had you scared shitless.”

“It did.”

And, under most other circumstances, you probably would’ve expected him to chastise you for it a little. Chide you for your immaturity and shake his head, because this was always how it went. But he didn’t.

Joel smiled back instead, and he kissed your forehead.

You blinked, shortly summoning words to try and deflect.

“I mean, like…can you even imagine us having a kid?”

“I can’t. I think I’d be…” Joel trailed off, at a loss.

“Pissed to be changing diapers in your fifties, I bet,” you finished for him, and that made him laugh. You joined in, grinning, and for a second you almost forgot he was still between your legs. His cock softened against your belly.

“You’d be a hot mom. I���d be an old dad,” he countered, suddenly lowering his face to kiss and nuzzle your neck. When the ebbs of your laughter were renewed in a fit of giggles, and your feet kicked helplessly under the covers as he used his mouth and hands to tickle you then, you had to choke through your words—‘Joel, stop, I mean it.’

“Ticklish and hot, I forgot.”

His fingers were relentless on your ribs. You kicked again.

“Don’t fucking test me. I—I will kick you out,” you warned

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on, then.”

Evidently, the thought of ordering him back downstairs with your dad and Tommy seemed like the least likely outcome at the moment, so Joel kept tickling you. He moved his lips to your ear, about to whisper something stupid and teasing, most likely, when you jerked yourself the other way. You slid just far enough to reach off the bed. While you clawed at your nightstand, Joel simply draped his body over yours and went on kissing and touching and relishing the sounds you were making—even while you were cursing his name under your breath.

“Go. Go. Enough of this shit, Miller,” you finally told him, nudging Joel back and waving something in his face.

“Wh—”

“Since getting knocked up is the last thing either of us wants, and we’ve been terrible about playing it safe…”

It didn’t take long for Joel to recognize what it was. As soon as he’d lifted his head to ogle it, you didn’t let him stare at the box of condoms for more than a second or two before tearing it open. Its seal had still been intact.

“New stash for someone special?” Joel hummed, low.

“Nope. Just you.”

Your old friend didn’t seem to appreciate that remark, returning your smirk with a roll of his eyes, but he took the metallic-wrapped rubber when you offered him one anyway. He tore off the top. He probably would’ve liked to put the thing on, but with all the time and brainless banter that had passed, he had to get himself hard again. He eyed you once, and, wrapping a hand around himself semi-erect, he seemed to want to say something more.

You wouldn’t let him. You kissed him, and he kissed back, and with your legs sliding around the backs of his own underneath the soft, warm sheets, he probably forgot what he was going to say. Your lips and tongues intertwined without needing those words to be spoken, and before long, Joel was growing harder. He sucked in a breath when your hand reached down to touch him, soft.

Joel grunted when your touch replaced his. While you stroked his length, you could see the muscles tense in his stomach. The heft of his belly was smooth, and firm, and protruding with little patches of black and grey hairs, and the man looked so undone already with just your fingers curling over his shaft. You would’ve held him that way for as long as he asked. Would’ve relished the warmth of him in your hand, the way his breaths grew more ragged as he kissed you and let you pump him gently between your body and his. You might’ve mistaken it for something romantic when he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face, before pulling away and mumbling, ‘That’s it. That feels real good, sweetheart. You’re doin’ so good.’ But being the way you were, you couldn’t accept such intimacy without wanting to shy away. You pushed his words aside and reached for the condom in his hand, swallowing thickly as you did.

The latex went on quickly. Joel hardly seemed of a mind to try and slow things down with his body just as taut, on edge, and desperate as yours. He planted an arm beside your head, and you guided his length between your legs. It felt cozy. Tender. Nervous like this could’ve been your first. A little strange seeing how you’d done this multiple times before—had started it just downstairs, against a wall and on the couch—and somehow, felt different now.

Joel sank in, and both of you groaned.

“I missed you, baby.”

It came from him all in the same breath. Your walls clenched, and he said it again. You peered up at the man, half-expecting to see his eyes shut and the feeling of you guiding his words more than anything else—he hadn’t meant you, but what was between your legs. But when you looked, you met his gaze. Joel was earnest, clearly.

“Did you miss me?” he panted, hips dragging back.

With the head of his cock drawn all the way up to your entrance, tip stretching that soft, sticky flesh, you could scarcely do more than whimper. You laced your fingers together behind his neck, felt him push in again, and suddenly, the sensations churning low in your gut got warmer. Stronger. They made you want to hold on longer

He felt so big inside you. Overwhelming you with his size and his scent and the way his lips trailed over yours while he fucked you; it all seemed too much to give a response.

Joel kissed you again, and your bodies fell into a rhythm. You squeezed his neck, let out a breathy whine when his cock grazed something soft and sensitive between your walls, and then pulled away fully to look down and watch.

He did too. He kissed the crown of your head, mumbling:

“See how good we fit?”

Those words could’ve sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered at the next thrust, feeling the warmth of his breath still fanning across your face, and you nodded.

Your eyes all but glazed over as you watched Joel’s big, glistening cock disappear and reappear from inside your body, coated with your arousal and the rubber and looking every bit as dizzyingly good as it had before. The wet noises only increased in volume the more he sped up, and with the need blossoming in your stomach, you had no choice but to moan. Joel plunged even deeper.

“Did she miss me, at least? Did she miss her daddy?”

Your walls clenched at those words—‘she,’ ‘daddy.’

Still, you couldn’t speak. You just nodded back.

Joel’s motions grew stronger, and with every stroke inside you, his cock hit something plush and sweet. You had to bite your lip to keep the sounds from coming out too loud, but the effort was almost wholly in vain. The harder he went, the more your throat came to betray you. The more Joel seemed keen on getting you to speak.

“Feels like she does, hon,” he said, tone dulcet and low, “Pussy’s been squeezin’ like she needed daddy here.”

That was true. Your heels dug deeper in his ass, and you felt something tender swell up inside, almost painfully.

Joel was moving your whole frame with the weight of his thrusts—your body bouncing beneath him, the bed creaking under the force, your old childhood room being filled with the sounds of your blooming pleasure and his. Your cunt stretched even more; it begged to be fucked deeper. Though your mouth couldn’t form the words, it seemed Joel was more than able to make out the rest.

He brought his thumb to your clit. He rubbed it, then caught your lips in a hot, steady kiss when a whimper from yours was just about to threaten to tremble out.

“Atta girl,” he grunted against your mouth, “That’s it.”

His hips worked faster. His thumb moved with even more precision, more persistence, as though begging your pleasure to come. You could feel the sweat bead on your skin and his; your bodies seemed to blend together. Your legs tightened around his sides, and while he fucked you and kissed you more fervidly then, you could feel your resolve start to slip. You broke from the kiss, panting.

“I can feel her, honey. Keep goin’,” Joel urged.

You weren’t sure if you could. It felt good.

It felt safe. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

Or maybe just since you’d been away.

You thought of the last, vulnerable state you’d been forced to endure—feeling hurt and betrayed after Joel had lied trying to keep you ‘safe’—and your body tensed. You held tighter, but you also couldn’t lose that feeling completely. You were so close, and there was still something else you couldn’t yet define, or explain.

“Cum for me, baby,” Joel kissed the side of your mouth, knowing the feeling coursing through your body too well, “Take what you need. Just let her feel good. It’s all okay.”

All okay.

Your walls fluttered again; your moans grew breathy and faint as Joel’s cock wedged deeper and deeper and his kisses grew softer along your face. It was evident you were there—you knew you were there—but then, the way you felt was like no place you’d ever experienced before.

You wanted to tell him something.

You met Joel’s gaze, and you almost did. Then he withdrew and fucked back in, and all words were lost.

The headboard thumped against the wall; you didn’t hear it. Joel’s one free hand was cradling your cheek, and his face drew closer, and right when you sensed the man was about to drop another kiss, you felt release, at last.

A snap.

A dizzying blow.

Your climax struck with all the force of a seismic wave, and, at the same time, you could feel Joel groaning, pulsing, spurting thick ropes of cum into rubber while his gaze stayed locked on yours and your body came apart. The look from him was sickeningly soft, even at his peak.

Intimate, again.

You couldn’t help it.

With your legs trembling, cunt spasming, and eyes still plastered to Joel’s, you felt that something resurface. This time, you didn’t have a hope of keeping it inside.

“I— I— I love you, Joel. I love you,” you stuttered out.

Your voice was tight. Your eyes burned with tears you hadn’t even sensed might threaten to appear with it.

You broke down and felt the sudden urge to sob.

And, just as quickly as you did, you shoved him off.

Regret flooded your chest. You shouldn’t have said that.

Joel was slow to move, no matter how much you tried getting him away. He was still in your bed, crowding your space—and worse yet, he was staring at you, eyes wide.

“Baby—”

“Don’t.” Your gaze was still wider. Wild. And remorseful, “I didn’t— I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to say that.”

Joel had pulled out, but he was still between your legs. You slid backward in the bed, cheeks flaming with heat.

He followed.

He reached out.

“Please don’t,” you begged, shaking your head before his touch could find you. Your pulse thundered in your skull.

The sound almost drowned all other noises out.

At the next, you wished it would deafen you completely.

“I love you, too, baby,” Joel said.

No sooner had his palms come to rest on your face when you were shoving them away. Standing up from the bed.

“You don’t mean that. I didn’t mean it. Just— just stop.”

“I—”

“Need to go.”

You hardly realized it, but you were pointing to the door.

Joel was just getting the condom off, about to stand up from where he was, when a new sound startled you both.

The garage door was closing. Tommy shouted your name saying he needed help bringing something in, and for a second, you both froze. It was happening all over again.

You knew you couldn’t risk getting caught another time. Not with your father in the house, unconscious or not. Silently, you thanked your lucky stars for the opportunity afforded by this moment—getting Joel out—and bent to grab his clothes off the floor and throw them, one by one. He dressed, albeit reluctantly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you were busy racing to throw on your own clothes, thinking of ways to get him out unnoticed. You heard the door to the garage slam shut downstairs.

“He’s gonna be back any minute. You need to go, Joel.”

“Come with me. We have to talk—”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“But you—”

“I lied. And so did you. Just like before,” you gritted out, “You can spare my feelings—I didn’t fucking mean it.”

He felt bad, that was all. You could see it in his eyes.

The pity, the self-loathing, the guilt; it was all there.

The sight made your stomach turn, and though your legs weren’t steady or sure underneath you in the slightest, you knew you had to go. If Joel didn’t intend on making things easier, you would have to leave first. You felt him reach for you, saw the plea in his eyes and knew how wrong this really was—that you had both fucked up—and couldn’t stay there. Again, you wrenched yourself away.

You didn’t give him the chance to protest. You heard words, dimly, but barely had the sense or self-possession to process one syllable of it, so you left. You bounded down steps, pulse hammering even louder than before, and you didn’t think to turn around or let Joel follow or even remotely allow yourself to stop feeling embarrassed

Leaving was for the best anyway.

If Joel had lied once, he’d lie again.

Downstairs, you cleaned. You folded laundry.

Joel had snuck out a while ago, having slipped from your room, down to the kitchen, and out the back door while Tommy was busy retrieving beer out of the garage. You’d gone down there to distract the younger Miller brother while Joel packed his shit up and left. Like he was meant to do. Luckily, Joel’s departure was quiet, and Tommy was all too happy to have some help toting cases of Budweiser inside. Your dad and Tess were still fast asleep

And now, nearly half an hour later, you had only to sweep the hardwood floor, fold your clothes, and busy yourself as best you could—or else grit your teeth so hard you could’ve broken your jaw. You were so fucking dumb.

“Almost done?” Tommy poked his head inside the room.

You’d told Joel you hated him last month. One measly fuck and you’re spewing, ‘I love you’? What the fuck?

“Just about,” you replied, dropping an old shirt of your dad’s into the nearest, neatest pile, “You heading out?”

Tommy jingled his car keys in his hand and hummed to say that he was. He had a happy, Alabama-just-beat-the-shit-out-of-Tennessee smile on his face as he stood there

“Yeah, I’m going back to Mando’s now to celebrate and watch another game. Was wondering if you wanted to come along,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

“I would, I’ve just got so much shit to do around here—” Gesturing indistinctly to the mountains of clothing stacked high all about the laundry room, “—cleaning.”

Beating yourself over the head, mentally, for ever telling his older brother that you liked him in the first place. Wishing you could crawl in a hole and wallow alone.

“Aww, that can wait. You’re here the whole week—”

“I know. But I gotta keep an eye on my old man, too.”

You rubbed at your face and pretended to get re-invested in a pair of socks with two gaping holes. Your father wouldn’t discard old, ratty clothes to save his life.

Then Tommy was at your side. Pressing against the washing machine and watching you work. Smirking.

“By ‘your old man’ do you mean your dad…or Joel?”

For the second time that day, you almost choked. You tried not to let it show but were sure you failed miserably.

“I— I— what?” you huffed, all terse, feigned incredulity.

“Don’t play stupid. Only suits my dumbass brother,” Tommy returned coolly, turning to face you head-on, “You sound just like him whenever I ask about you.”

“Whatever he’s said—” you started again.

“I heard his truck hightailing it out of here while you came down to distract me. Heard his footsteps, too.”

While your cheeks warmed, Tommy’s smile only grew.

“Aaaaand the headboard was bangin’ pretty loud—”

“Alright!” You threw your hands up, “Fine. OK. Enough.”

Your surrender was fast, far too grossed out to fight it.

You closed your eyes and wanted to die. From next to you, you could hear Tommy’s amusement morph into laughter. It didn’t take much to wring the truth out of you, and for a man who knew you as well as he did, there was really no telling where this would end. Once Tommy Miller called bullshit, there was rarely ever room to argue.

The last time that had happened, he’d sent you and Joel packing to abstinence camp and had never looked back.

Why he was finding humor in this now was beyond you.

You dropped the socks you were holding. You shot him a look as if to ask him just that, and the man shrugged.

“I know y’all skipped out on camp. Could’ve guessed there was some sort of fight between you two after that, because I’ve never seen Joel so goddamn grumpy for—”

“Yeah, well,” you cut in, not wanting to hear the rest, “That’s over now. Seriously. Today was just a fluke.”

Before he could even try to voice his disbelief, you added:

“Just don’t tell my dad about this. Please.”

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that was probably the furthest thing from his mind, but you asked it all the same. Tommy scoffed, and then he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest like he couldn’t believe a word you were saying now. Like a smug big brother who didn’t know how else to say that you made a terrible liar.

Because that was what he’d been to you before you ever got with Joel in the first place: a good, no-bullshit friend. The recognition of this made you feel even worse inside.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said at length, much to your surprise.

His arms constricted even tighter against his chest and his eyes scanned yours thoughtfully before continuing.

“I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in y’all’s business. What you and Joel do is up to you—I just hated the thought of things, uh…going south. Making it weird between you.”

“Like now,” you said quietly.

A beat.

Tommy scratched his neck.

“Yeah, a little like that,” he replied, breathing out a laugh, “But that’s alright. Joel’s my brother, and I love him, but the man can’t navigate a relationship to save his life. Much less with a girl your age. So just…keep that in mind. I don’t wanna see either of you getting hurt.”

In other words: don’t be stupid and get attached.

‘You’re right,’ was all you knew to say. All you felt capable of telling him now, after what had come to pass that day.

Frankly, you didn’t need to speak another word to get the gist of what he meant, and like he’d said, it wasn’t on him to dictate how you handled things with Joel. The message was clear enough, and the truth was all there.

You couldn’t make this work.

Joel wouldn’t make this work with a girl as young as you.

He’d only said what he said today out of habit—a knee-jerk reaction. He didn’t know what the fuck else to say when his best friend’s kid he’d been banging spilled out ‘I love you.’ And you didn’t blame him for it. But you also couldn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t when all this was ever supposed to be was a casual fuck here and there. You’d been confused and needing to feel safe. He had wanted access to something he shouldn’t have, and now that the thrill of that was wearing off, he felt trapped and cornered into saying what he had, for your sake. The best thing for the two of you now was a clean break, before any more feelings got muddled and misspoken and brought to anything worse than they already were.

It would suck for a while. You knew it would. The next second had you leaning in unconsciously, watching Tommy uncross his arms and pull you in for a hug.

This would really suck.

You buried your face in his chest.

There wasn’t much to say; still, Tommy said it best:

“Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I know you will.”

[penascigarette]

Smooth Operator Ch 1. A New Client

Joel Miller x f!phone sex operator

➴wc: 6.7k | summary: You unexpectedly find yourself drawn to a new client during a late-night call, who ignites a surprising wave of desire within you. As you engage in a steamy conversation, you realize this encounter is unlike any you've had before, leaving you eager for more and questioning the boundaries of your professional life.

➴warnings: mdni, phone sex, mxm phone sex, fxm phone sex, m&f masterbation lots of dirty talking, use of princess, shitty moodboard

➴an: hi! i hope you enjoy the first chapter of the first fic I have ever posted. if I have missed any warnings please let me know. feedback is super appreciated! now I will go run and hide lol. and a big tysm to @saradika-graphics for making such lovely dividers!

masterlist | series masterlist | pt. 2

You love sleeping, and just as passionately, you love your bed. Whenever you wake up in the morning, you spend at least ten minutes wrapped up in your duvet, savoring the warmth and comfort as you tease yourself with the idea of a nap.

This morning is no different. The sun shines outside, making your dark purple curtains look lighter than they actually are. If you open your eyes, you know you'll see dust particles floating through the air.

You take a deep breath through your nose and immediately wish you'd opened your windows to let in some fresh air. But you never do, even though you think about it every morning. It's too risky. Open windows are an open invitation to your worst fear—spiders.

Just the thought of their tiny, hairy bodies and long, wiggly legs sends a shiver down your spine. You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, practically imagining the creepy crawlies on your skin.

And of course, that's when your roommate, Elliot, decides it’s the perfect time to tickle your ear with one of his long, pink, kinky feathers—used for who-knows-what.

You scream, jump, and scramble off the bed like it’s suddenly caught fire. Your eyes—probably bloodshot with dark bags underneath—narrow at the grinning culprit, who is currently doubled over in a fit of laughter on the right side of your king-sized bed.

“What the fuck,” you huff, too tired to find any humor in this. You were so warm and cozy, and now that feeling is ruined for the next twenty-four hours. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

 “Y-your face!” he chokes out between giggles. He looks far too fresh-faced for someone who’s just rolled out of bed. Still in his pajamas, his messy hair—short on the sides with a wave on top—looks like it hasn’t seen a brush this morning.

“It's not funny!” you argue, your voice rising over the sound of his laughter. You’re this close to stomping your foot at him. “I thought you were a spider!” Standing there in nothing but pink pajama bottoms and a black strap top, your skin prickles with goosebumps. Yet again, you curse him for ruining your warm, safe burrito.

That only makes him laugh harder. It’s hard to believe this man-child is twenty-eight years old when he acts less than half his age most of the time.

At the sound of his snort, you feel your lips twitch against your will. No, you’re pissed at him—there’s no way he’s going to make you laugh. But very quickly, you’re losing the battle. Have you ever tried not laughing with someone who has an impossibly contagious laugh? It’s damn near impossible.

“Whatever!” you say, rolling your eyes as a reluctant smile finally breaks across your face. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to look stern, but Elliot knows he’s won this round

“It’s getting late,” he says, still chuckling. His green eyes are watery from laughing, making them sparkle as he grins at you. Rolling onto his left side, he props his head up with one hand—the one holding the feather—while his other hand runs through his sandy-brown hair, slicking it back. “And you slept through your alarms again, so I thought I’d help you out.”

Damn, have you really? It wouldn’t be the first time. Waking you is like trying to wake the dead.

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Fair enough, he had to wake you, but—“Did you have to use your kinky, sex feather...thing?” You shiver in disgust. “Who knows where that’s been.”

He shrugs innocently, twirling the offending object between his fingers. “Nowhere gross...” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles once more. “Only up Danny’s ass.”

Your eyes widen, and you splutter. “What? Oh, my god—Jesus, that’s just—” You gag in the back of your throat. “You said it hadn’t been anywhere gross!”

He laughs again, sitting up. “I was telling the truth. Danny’s ass was far from gross.” A faraway look crosses his face. “It was heaven,” he muses wistfully before frowning. “God, I miss him.”

“Oh, honey,” you soften immediately, making your way to the bed and crawling toward Elliot to offer some comfort.

You know Danny and Elliot’s breakup was hard on him. He’d been completely in love with that man and was about to ask him to move in—with you both—when Danny decided to end the year-and-a-half relationship. It just wasn’t working was his excuse, but Elliot later found out the truth when Danny updated his Facebook page: he’d left Elliot for someone else.

“He didn’t deserve you,” you say, trying to make him feel better as you drape an arm around his shoulders. Sitting back on your heels, you add, “He was a dick for what he did. You shouldn’t be sad. He’s the one who lost someone who loved him. The only thing you lost was—”

“A twat-waffle who didn’t deserve me, I know,” he cuts you off, reciting your usual line before you can finish. You’ve said it enough times in the past three months since the breakup that he knows it by heart. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but...doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know,” you respond quietly, your thoughts drifting to your own breakup. It’s been over a year now, but the pain still lingers. Your ex had been your first boyfriend—hell, your first everything. You’d met when you were seventeen, and you moved in with him before your next birthday. Everything happened so fast, and you didn’t see the cracks until it was too late. “But we have each other, right?” you say, giving Elliot a little shake.

He glances at you, his expression vulnerable. Big eyes, plucked thin eyebrows, a slight bump on his nose from when a bully broke it in his teens, full lips, high cheekbones, and when he smiles, dimples form on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” he replies, hopeful. “Even if I wake you up with a feather that’s been up my ex’s ass?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away to thump him on the arm. “Fucker,” you mutter as he starts giggling all over again. “Remind me why I love you?”

Grinning, he reaches into the pocket of his pajama shorts and pulls out his phone. "Because I'm adorable," he answers distractedly as he stares at the screen. "Oh, my first caller of the day! And it's Simon," he whispers the last part to you as if Simon could hear. "He sounds like a whale when he comes, but boy, does he have a gorgeous sex voice," he informs you. You snort as he accepts the call. "Why hello there, lover."

While Elliot makes himself comfortable against your pillows, you climb off the bed and head toward your wardrobe. You already have your outfit in mind—a pair of leggings and a plain white shirt.

"Mmm, that sounds so sexy, baby," you hear Elliot purr in the background, and you smile, shaking your head. You can’t imagine what people would think about you being in the same room as your guy roommate while he talks dirty to one of your clients, meanwhile, you're getting changed in the corner.

It’s a strange situation, to say the least.

As you remove your shirt with your back turned to Elliot, you can’t help but listen in to the conversation.

"I'd love to touch your nipples," Elliot hums behind you, getting into character. You know how much he loves talking dirty to guys. It’s a turn-on for him. Unlike you, who only really enjoys sex if it’s with someone you love. Elliot is way more adventurous and has had more one-night stands than you can count. "I'd love to stroke them, caress them, lick them. . .”

"Suck them," you add when you hear Elliot hesitate. You pull the straps of your bra up your arms and hook it at the back. 

“Oh, and suck them," Elliot says as you pull your top on.

Since Elliot is still fairly new to this, he needs help sometimes. His situation had been very similar to yours—a broken-up relationship, no job, and forced to move back in with his mum until someone came along and gave him hope. For Elliot, that person was you. For you, that person was your boss, Jane.

Elliot's voice lowers as he talks to his client. "Your body is so pretty, honey. I can't wait to trace my tongue up and down your belly, and then start going lower and lower until I reach your—”

You cough quietly to yourself, trying to hide your smile as you change into your leggings and slip on a pair of fluffy pink socks. You’ve heard Elliot talk dirty loads of times, and he’s heard you talk dirty just as many. Part of training him was him having to listen in on your conversations, and then you monitoring his. Neither of you gets embarrassed around it anymore. It’s more amusing, to be completely honest.

Deciding to leave Elliot to it, you grab your phone off your bedside cabinet and quietly tiptoe to the door. Before you leave, you look over to Elliot and mouth, Coffee?

He nods enthusiastically at you and mouths back, Yes, please!

You’re halfway down the steps when you rub your eye and feel the crumbly sensation of mascara under your fingertip. You’ve forgotten to take your makeup off the night before. You curse to yourself before heading back upstairs to fetch a makeup wipe.

When you reach your room once more, Elliot looks at you questioningly before he notices your face. His lips curl into his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. You roll your eyes and put your middle finger up at him before heading over to your dresser, which sits directly opposite your bed. You open the top drawer and feel through the ridiculous amount of makeup and beauty products you’ve collected over time. As your fingers search, your eyes stare forward at your flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. You can see Elliot's reflection.

"God, you feel so tight around me," Elliot is telling his customer, and you bite your lip in an attempt not to laugh. Finally, your fingers grip the packet of wipes, and you pull them free. "I'm gonna come inside of your ass so damn hard—," Elliot is cut off by a muffled roar, and you turn to look at him questioningly.

He is still sitting on your bed, back against the pillows with one hand holding the phone far away from his ear. He has an uncomfortable look on his face, and it’s then you realize the noise has come from the phone. Or, more accurately, the noise is the loud, animal-like groans of a man coming hard.

Oh my god," you whisper to him quietly, now understanding what Elliot had meant by Simon sounding like a whale when he came.

Elliot uses his other hand to cover the bottom half of the phone, preventing Simon from hearing you speak. "Every. Damn. Time," he replies just as quietly, looking so serious it makes you giggle. He cracks his own smile before bringing the phone back to his ear. "Oh, that sounded like a good one, baby."

You’re glad Simon isn’t one of your callers because you’re not sure you’d be able to stay professional with that sound in your ear. You take care of your makeup before finally getting started on coffee.

Your living room and kitchen are all in one room. The only thing separating the rooms is the counter you eat at. Silver stools with black padded seats sit underneath, four of them for when you have guests over.

You walk past the L-shaped sofa and the counter. Once the coffee is on, you get started on breakfast. You decide on some cheesy, ham-scrambled eggs. Just as you start mixing the ingredients, your phone vibrates where you’ve placed it on the counter. You lean over far enough to see the screen. When no name appears, only a number, you figure it must be a new client since you save existing clients in your phone book.

You accept the call and bring it to your ear. "Hey there," you purr in your sexy voice. You never thought you had one until Elliot pointed it out to you. According to him, it’s a hot one too. "Tell me, gorgeous, what’s your name?"

"Josh." He’s breathing heavily, sounding as if he’s already started the party without you. "I-I'm new to all this…phone stuff," he informs you.

"That's fine, Josh," you say with a slight smile. "My name's Angel, and I’m going to take care of you, all right?" Your name isn’t Angel, but for safety reasons, you’re Angel as far as your customers know. And yes, you’re well aware of how clichéd it is.

"Yes," he tells you, his voice rougher than before. He’s probably getting more excited. Now, all you need to do is find out what he likes.

"Tell me, honey, you like it hard or soft, hm?" you question just as Elliot’s footsteps sound on the stairs.

"God. Hard. I like it hard," Josh answers. "I like it when you take control, with a little pain. Yeah, I like that a lot." In the background, you can hear the sound of his hand working his dick. At least you know he’s enjoying himself.

"Okay, Josh," you nod to yourself, knowing exactly where to go from here. Elliot appears in front of you, his lips forming an 'o' shape when he sees you’re with a client. You nod your head toward the food you’ve been preparing, signaling him to take over as you move away from the counter and toward the living area. Elliot passes you on the way, his hand patting you on the shoulder.

You flop over the arm of the chair and onto the sofa, landing with a bounce on your back. "The first thing I want you to do is to strip for me, now," you order him, reaching toward the coffee table when you spot a magazine there. You bring it over to you and open it. "Are you naked yet?"

"Almost," he practically gasps to you. You can hear some more shuffling, and then he's telling you, "Yes, mistress, I'm naked."

Mistress? You sigh internally. You seriously can't believe how many men are into the whole dominatrix kink. In the beginning, it was kind of fun, but by now, it’s getting pretty old.

Mentally awakening your inner dom, you relax further into the sofa and flip through the magazine. "Good boy," you coo, finding a 20 Sex Tips for Women article. Huh, how fitting. "Now, here's what I want you to do, and you better listen closely, pet."

The call ends up lasting 2 minutes and 28 seconds. Not bad for a newbie.

________

“I might have a date this weekend," Elliot mentions casually, making you glance over the top of your book at him, eyebrows raised.

A few hours have passed since breakfast, and you've had at least seven phone calls since. The two of you are relaxing in the living room, you on one side of your L-shaped sofa and Elliot on the other.

"And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" you respond, feeling rather hurt. You tell each other everything. You know the penis size of every boyfriend he's had. How can he share that information so easily yet let something like a date stay secret?

He cringes, and you just know you're not going to like what's coming next. "Because..." he hesitates, takes a deep breath, and rushes out, "BecauseitswithDanny." He says it so fast it almost doesn't register, but the name Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.

"What!?" you exclaim, book falling forgotten onto the floor as you sit up. You're completely shocked, and you imagine your expression says everything before you even open your mouth. "How can you—why would you want to after what he did?" You can't understand what's going through Elliot's head, but you seriously want to knock some sense into him.

"I tried hinting to you this morning!" Elliot tells you, sitting up. The magazine he'd been reading earlier falls onto his lap, his attention now completely on you. "I told you I missed him!"

You scoff at that. "A hint is, 'Oh, by the way, I'm thinking of going on a date with my ex.' Not, 'I'm going to tickle you with Danny's ass-feather, complain about missing him, and hope that you get the hint that I'm going out with him this weekend despite the fact he broke my heart!'" You take a deep breath, oxygen running low after that rant. "Look, I know it's none of my business—"

"Of course it's your business. You're my best friend."

"—I just don't want you to get hurt," you continue as you both stare at each other with similar expressions. You're both desperate for the other to understand how you're feeling without wanting to cause any upset. "I love you, honey...and it destroyed you when he left."

"He said he's sorry," Elliot tells you quietly, making you realize just how much they've been talking. A pang of hurt goes through your heart, knowing that Elliot felt like he couldn't talk to you about this. "He said it was a mistake, one he wouldn't make again. But I don't want to jump back into things so...I told him we'll start slow."

"Well," you nod slightly. "That's something, I guess." It comforts you to know that he isn't rushing into the relationship again. Maybe, if they start from scratch, it could work this time. Unfortunately, your gut tells you different. "I'm going to be honest with you, okay?"

Elliot gives you a lopsided smile, causing a single dimple to form on his cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You smile back for a moment before turning serious again. "I think...you're thinking with your heart and not with your head," you tell him softly. "I think you're in love with him, and you miss him, and you're not thinking rationally about this. Which I totally understand, honey. You love him; I know you can't help that. I just worry that Danny knows how you feel about him, and he's going to use it to his advantage." You watch Elliot's expression closely; he's nodding, letting you know he's listening.

You give your lip a quick nibble before continuing. "But if this is something you feel like you need to do, then I'll support you, you know that."

"Thanks, babe," he responds sincerely, but his eyes are sad. "You're right. I know you're right, but...my heart wants this so damn badly."

"What's your gut telling you to do?" you ask him curiously. You’ve always believed in following your instincts.

"Run," he answers with a painful laugh. "Run and don't look back because he's only doing this as a rebound."

You frown at the information. "Rebound?"

Elliot nods, tears filling his eyes. He crosses his legs underneath him, which surprises you given how skinny his jeans are. One arm goes to the back of the sofa while the other runs through his slick-backed hair. He pulls his lips into his mouth for a moment, a habit of his, before telling you, "Him and Voldemort broke up. Danny says he broke it off because he misses me, but I checked Voldemort's page, and it looks like he's gone and gotten himself a new guy."

You hold back a snort at his nickname for Gary. Voldemort. It suits him. From Elliot's information, you're guessing that Danny is only after a rebound, but Elliot doesn't want to admit it because he still wants to be with Danny.

"Honey..." you sigh, scooting across the sofa so you can give Elliot a cuddle. He immediately returns the gesture but stays seated, whereas you lean up on your knees, making you higher than him. You rest your head on top of his, your arms around his neck. You know you don't need to say anything. Elliot knows he's burying his head in the sand. You think he just needs to find out the hard way; otherwise, he'd always regret not trying.

"I'm here for you," you assure him. This is something he needs to do, and you can't protect him from it, no matter how much you want to.

"Thank you," he tells you tearfully. You can hear how upset he is, but he's trying to hold it back. You squeeze him tighter, wishing you could take away all his pain. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

Your lips curve at that. "I know," you joke because really, you're not that big-headed. "Now," you say as you pull away but keep your arms around his neck. "What do you say we turn our phones off for a while, get a Chinese, and watch some crappy chick flicks?"

His eyes are bloodshot and wet with tears, but the smile he gives you is genuine happiness. And that you completely understand because food makes you feel the same way. "I love you so much."

--

The film you end up watching is beyond cheesy, but the humor is awesome, and you find yourself giggling along. Your Chinese food is now in your overly-stuffed belly, and the only things left are the containers sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You sit side-by-side with Elliot, shoulders touching, a leopard-print blanket draped over your laps. Both of you ordered a beer with the takeaway. It isn’t enough to get you drunk, but that wasn’t the plan since you need to turn your phones back on for work later.

By the time the film ends, Elliot seems to be in a much better mood. Hopefully, he’ll stay that way for the next few hours.

“Gosh,” Elliot starts, reaching behind the sofa to the side table where a lamp sits. He switches it on, making you both blink against the sudden brightness. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”

“Same,” you say, squinting as your eyes adjust. Your muscles feel cramped, so you throw off the blanket and stretch. As you straighten your body, you begin to slide off the sofa but don’t bother stopping it. You let yourself slip onto the floor.

With the coffee table in the way, you have to arrange yourself so you’re lying between the sofa and the table. The wooden flooring is cold against your right arm, while the left side of your body enjoys the comfort of the fur rug.

“Weirdo,” Elliot snorts from above.

“Don’t judge,” you respond, letting out a yawn. Watching films always makes you tired. Maybe it strains your eyes. The floor is oddly tempting right now—so cozy—or maybe Elliot is right, and you’re just a weirdo.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Elliot speaks again, his foot nudging your side. “Can’t sleep now. We’ve got horny customers waiting.”

It’s only then you realize you’ve closed your eyes. “I’m up,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit upright. The smell of Chinese food still lingers in the air. It was absolutely delicious, but your stomach protests now, begging you not to even inhale another whiff of it. You pat your belly proudly, knowing it did a good job handling the feast.

“Good,” Elliot says. “We gotta get to work.”

Neither of you moves.

“For fuck’s sake,” Elliot sighs after a moment, making you crack a smile. “It’s so much effort. I hate... effort,” he says, spitting the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

You tilt your head to look at him better. “Just think about all those handsome, horny men stroking their dicks, waiting for you to—”

“I’m up!” Elliot exclaims, jumping to his feet. His hands dive into his pockets as you laugh loudly. “Christ, where’s my phone? My customers need me!” He’s being overly dramatic on purpose, and it makes you giggle even harder.

“It’s not funny!” he tells you, though he’s trying his hardest not to smile. “Who’s going to give those guys their orgasms? This is a serious situation!”

You giggle again, but then you try to put on a straight face. “You’re right. There could be a riot!” you gasp dramatically. “I’ll get on the phone to the prime minister right away!”

“And the president!” Elliot chimes in, but then you make eye contact, and the two of you burst into laughter. Sure, you can act pretty silly sometimes, but it’s healthy. At this age, you feel more mature than most people your age, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be childish once in a while.

Once you both calm down, you know playtime is over. It’s really time to get to work. Sighing, you take Elliot’s hand when he offers it to you, and he easily pulls you up from the floor.

“Thanks, kid,” you tell him, standing on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. You know he hates when you do that.

He lets out a high-pitched squeak and backs away. “You know my rules!”

“No one touches the hair,” you recite dutifully.

“Yes!” he says, rolling his eyes. “And yet you always forget. And what do you mean ‘kid’? I’m older than you!”

“Yes, well, mentally you’re the age of ten, so…”

“Bitch,” he says, lightly punching your arm, and you laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you tease.

He plants his hands on his hips, cocking a hip at you and raising an eyebrow. “Honey, you can’t handle what I’ve got.”

“I’m heading upstairs. Gonna talk dirty to some dudes, grab a shower, change into my pajamas, get some more horny people off, read a book, then go to bed.”

Elliot takes the phone and nods. “Sounds like a damn good plan,” he says, holding up his hand.

You smile and give him a high-five.

--

One of the hardest parts of your job is keeping things fresh and coming up with new ideas. That’s why you love working with Elliot. He’s a guy; he knows what men like, so whenever you feel like you need something different, he’s your go-to.

New customers are always the easiest to please. No matter what you say, it’s fresh to them. Exciting. It’s your recurring customers who require more effort. There are only so many ways to describe a blowjob before it starts feeling repetitive. When you get that feeling of déjà vu, you worry your client does too.

Oh, and trying to figure out what a guy likes? That’s another challenge. Sometimes, it feels like a seriously fucked-up game of I-Spy.

“I spy with my little eye…” Imaginary-you says in a hopeful voice. “A foot fetish? No? Fuck.” You’re rocking back and forth now, losing hope. “I spy with my little—oh, I know! Voyeurism?” you practically beg, thinking about pulling your brains out with a spoon if this doesn’t work. “…Golden showers?”

Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. It’s frustrating, especially when the client is shy and doesn’t know what they like themselves.

Deciding you’re getting cranky—probably because you’re tired—you decide to finish half an hour early tonight. You shouldn’t, especially after already losing a few hours of work earlier, but you’ve made enough money to cover your half of rent and bills this month. You’ve still got a week to earn more for food and anything else you need.

So yeah, you’ll finish early.

Yawning, you pull the covers out from underneath your ass before throwing them over yourself. You’re already in your pajamas—a loose pair of pink shorts and a white strap top—and your book sits next to you, waiting to be read.

But just as you pick up your phone, ready to turn it off, a new number flashes on the screen. You stare at it for a moment, wondering if it’s worth leaving. The problem is, with it being a new customer, leaving a bad impression could mean they wouldn’t come back.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, knowing the professional businesswoman in you can’t risk losing what might end up being a recurring customer. As far as you know, this phone call could change your career. You snort at that. Highly unlikely, but it’s going to bring in extra money, which is a good enough reason. “Just this last one, then I’m going to bed,” you tell yourself.

You place the earphones back into your ears and press the green button on your touchscreen. “Hey there, handsome.” There’s a pause, and you briefly wonder if they’ve decided to hang up when he finally speaks.

“Hey,” he responds simply, sounding kind of awkward.

“You caught me just in time,” you say naughtily.

“Oh?” he sounds intrigued, though the awkwardness remains. He’s probably just shy or clueless about what to do. “Why is that?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by how much you’re attracted to his voice. That’s never happened to you before, and he’s barely said five words. Masculine, educated, and gruff. Swoon.

“Um...” You try to get back into character while scolding yourself. The conversation has only just started; you can’t screw it up already. Get your head in the game, girl. “Because I’m wet and needing a man to help me out.” Internally, you wince. That’s pretty weak considering how good you usually are at this.

He doesn’t seem to think so because he releases a sexy, “Shit. I—” He’s breathing heavily, and you wait for him to finish, sensing he has something else he wants to say. “I don’t know if this was a good idea,” he admits after a moment.

Fuck, you’re losing him, and you’re losing him fast. You need to think quickly if you want to keep him on the line. You don’t want to admit it, but your interest in this man goes beyond the money you’re earning from him. He’s ignited something in you. “Wait! Please,” you breathe. “I—I’m so horny. I need you. Please? Just stroke your dick for me. I need it.” There you go; you knew you could do better.

“Damn it,” he hisses, and then there’s the sound of a belt buckle, and you know you’ve got him. “What’d you need, sweetie? Tell me,” he demands, and for the first time since doing this job, you feel a wave of lust hit you.

Swallowing in an attempt to bring moisture back to your dry mouth—it all seems to have headed south, if you know what you mean—you respond truthfully, “You.” Jesus, you shouldn’t be doing this, but before you can stop yourself, your left hand is slipping underneath your strap top and finding your breasts. “I need you, please—” You pause for a second. You don’t know if it will work, but if you’re right about him, this is going to go down a treat. For both him and for you. “—sir.”

And you’re right because he lets out a loud groan, making you squeeze your thighs together in response. Jesus, you haven’t wanted someone this badly in what feels like forever.

“Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re already nodding before he finishes his sentence. “Yes, god, yes.” You move your right hand so it’s also caressing your breasts. In this moment, you completely love your headset, which allows you to talk and touch at the same time.

“Mm, you’re so obedient, baby,” he tells you, approval evident in his husky voice. “Tell me, Princess, tell me are your nipples hard?”

Your pussy clenches almost painfully, and you try to remind it to calm down because it’s only just started. “They’re hard. So hard they’re showing through my shirt.”

You’re getting so hazy with lust you’re not sure what to do with yourself, so you pinch your nipples roughly and almost cry out in frustration, knowing it would be so much better if he were doing it for you.

“Damn, that’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you, and your belly does a funny flip. “You touchin’ them? Want you to roll them between your fingers. Not too hard, just enough pressure to leave you needing more.”

It’s not easy to admit, but you think he’s better at this than you are, and it crosses your mind that you should probably be paying him. “I already am,” you confess with a guilty laugh. “Your voice... it’s, uh, fucking hot.” You hesitate because you’re not sure if you can say that to him. It’s not very professional, but then you remind yourself that you’re only second-guessing it because you’re actually getting off on it.

"You that eager for me, princess?" he sounds pretty damn pleased with himself. "Tell me how it feels. You know, I'm stroking my dick to this. Getting hard over the noises you're making, and the pretty picture you're giving me."

The image of this man, who you are undoubtedly attracted to, stroking his hard cock over the thought of you pleasuring yourself drives you crazy. He seems so generous, something rare nowadays.

"It feels..." you breathe, trying to find the right words. "Like it's not enough. I need more. Christ." You throw your head back against your pillows, frustrated with yourself and the way you're acting. Completely unprofessional.

"Shh," he coos softly. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you. Okay, princess?" He's so freaking good at this. You're practically shivering in anticipation of what he might say next. "I want you to get naked for me. And tell me, baby, you got any toys?"

"Um," you think about his question as you pull your strap top over your head. It gets caught on the earphone wire. "Wait a second." You quickly untangle yourself before placing the earphones back into your ears. Moving on to your shorts, you push them eagerly down your legs. "Yes, I have one of those little bullet vibrators."

"Good. I want you to get it for me, princess."

You bite your lip for a moment, feeling extremely dirty about what you're about to do. "Yes, sir..." you say before reaching toward your side cabinet and opening the bottom drawer. In an old, tiny, purple purse with a single zip sits the bullet. You take it out before getting comfortable on the bed once more. "I've got it."

He hums in approval. "Now, I'm more than happy to go slow, make this last, but I'm sensing that my girl wants to come hard and fast, am I right?"

You suck in an unsteady breath. Being called his girl really shouldn't make you feel as giddy as it does. Why and how does a complete stranger have such an effect on you? You're never one of those girls who fall for a man's charm easily. Yet here you are, swooning over a guy because he's good at talking dirty and has a sexy voice.

Apparently you were easier to seduce than you originally thought.

"Yes," you choke out, wondering if you'd wake up if you pinched yourself hard enough. You wouldn't try it, though, just in case you were dreaming. You really aren't ready for it to end. "God, yes."

"All right then," he chuckles, the sound warm. "I'll do what you want this time. Next time, what I say goes, okay, princess?"

Before you have a chance to respond, he's giving you more orders, and in no way are you complaining.

"I want you to spread your pretty little thighs for me, baby." His voice, and the way he's breathing, gives you the impression that he's getting just as excited as you are.

"Okay," you squeak rather embarrassingly. Cool air hits your most sensitive area as you do what he orders, your hands resting against the inside of your thighs, fingers clutching your vibrator as you wait impatiently for his instructions.

You have yet to turn the bullet on, but it already feels like your insides are vibrating.

"Now, take your hand and spread your pussy lips for me."

And there you go, once again speechless—and breathless—because of this man and his words. Seriously, he could do this job better than you. You have to admit, you're storing parts of this conversation away for both personal and professional use later on.

Your hands automatically do as he says, your body desperate for some kind of release. You feel overwhelmed and don't know where to start or what to do in order to relieve it. Thank God you have him to guide you; otherwise, you might combust. Then again, if he wasn't here, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

"Okay," you breathe, feeling more and more like a client than a sex line operator. But taking control is obviously something he enjoys, so who are you to put a stop to this? What’s the saying? ‘Customers are always right?’ Well, you absolutely, completely, one hundred percent agree!

"Stretch yourself out," he continues, his voice starting to strain. "Force your sexy little clit out of its hood. I don't want it hiding when you start fucking yourself. All right, princess?"

Fuckkk. Just when you think he can't possibly get any hotter, he goes and says that. Your pussy feels like it’s on fire; your clit is so swollen it hurts. You wouldn't be surprised if you came the second you put any pressure on your nub.

"Now," he continues. "Turn your bullet on and press it to your clit. You're not allowed to stop until your legs are shaking and you're calling out my name. Got it?" You can hear how hard he's pumping his dick now. For a moment, you feel guilty. Are you neglecting him? But then you remind yourself again that this is what he wants.

You know you're not going to last long. You're too excited. Not to mention, it’s been a while since you've spent some time with your right hand. You twist the top of your bullet, putting it on the highest speed. You know you're worked up enough to take it; usually, you start on low and build your way up because you're overly sensitive. Right now, you know it won’t be an issue.

The bullet starts to shake violently, but the noise is low, like a quiet buzzing. Your left hand holds yourself open, fingers forming a 'V' and spreading your lips as far as you can, just as he instructed.

You don’t need to tell him what you’re doing; the moment you press the bullet to yourself, a half-gasp, half-moan escapes your lips. You’re right—you definitely won’t last long. The vibrations are intense, and you draw small circles on yourself, pushing yourself even closer to the edge.

“Damnit,” he hisses. You’re quickly learning it’s one of his favorite words. “You sound fucking sexy. Wish I could see you. Watch you,” he inhales sharply. He’s just as close as you are.

“What’s—” you attempt to speak but end up gasping instead. Wetness gathers below, soaking your entrance and trailing toward your clit. The added lubrication lets the bullet slide more freely around your nub, the sensation unbelievable. “What’s—”

“Princess?” he chokes, likely having the same problem as you.

So close now. So fucking close. You just need a little more. The rhythm is perfect, and you can hear him breathing in your ear, letting out the occasional groan. It’s too damn much, but you can’t let yourself go—not without— “What’s your name?”

"Joel."

"Fuck - Joel!"

You see stars, as cliché as it sounds. Your whole body breaks into spasms, your left hand falling to the sheets and gripping the fabric desperately. Your right hand forces the bullet between your slippery lips, and your thighs clamp around your hand. Incoherent words tumble from your mouth: “Oh god,” “Fuck,” and Joel’s name.

As you come back down to earth, you can hear that Joel barely followed two seconds behind.

“Damn it, Princess. You’re so fucking good. Sound so pretty. Done so well,” the words spill from his mouth like sweet wine. He probably isn’t even aware of them. The sound of him fisting his dick is irregular and off-beat. “Fuck. Damn. You’re such a good girl.”

You remove the bullet from yourself—if you leave it there any longer, it’s going to become painful—and let out a giggle. Your cheeks are flushed, your body buzzing with pleasure. Lightheaded and giddy, you think to yourself that this guy must be amazing in bed. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah,” he laughs breathlessly. “You can say that again. I can’t believe I almost hung up.”

“That would have been bad,” you reply, wondering if your heart will slow down anytime soon. “Very, very bad.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, then pauses before adding, “Let me ask you something.”

“Go ahead.” You hesitate for only a moment. It’s unusual for clients to stick around afterward, but you’ve quickly realized this guy isn’t a normal caller.

“What’s your real name?” he asks. “No way is it ‘Angel.’” He snorts, finding your alias hilarious.

Is Angel that bad of a name? You think it’s kind of cool. The company is called Angels and Demons, with you being the Angel. Elliot’s alias is Daemon because it’s close to “demon” but sounds way better. When a customer calls, they get an automated voice instructing them to press the number for their chosen operator, complete with a brief description.

You’re losing your train of thought; you can’t give him your real name, can you? It’s against the rules. If Jane found out, she’d be pissed. She wouldn’t fire you, but her anger is almost as bad. With the image of facing her wrath in mind, you tell Joel, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Your tone is regretful because you’d really like to tell him. “My boss would…it’s against the rules.”

“Ah,” he responds, masking the disappointment. “It’s all right. I understand.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again, hating the idea of letting him down, especially after how amazing he just made you feel.

"Seriously, Princess, it’s fine,” he reassures you, easing the guilt. “I had a really good time tonight. You can bet I’ll be expecting a repeat tomorrow.” You just know that if you could see him right now, his eyes would sparkle with mischief.

Your pussy throbs again just thinking about it. God, he makes you insatiable. “I’m really, really looking forward to it,” you tell him honestly.

“Me too.” There’s a brief pause, then, “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” Hanging up the phone, you place it against your lips, letting everything sink in. Alone with your thoughts, you can’t believe you just had full-blown phone sex with a client. It’s so unlike you. It’s more like something Elliot would do. Speaking of…

“Elliot, you won’t believe what just happened!” you shout at the top of your lungs.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in order to get a creepy coworker off your back, you begrudgingly let sylus play the part of your fake boyfriend. unfortunately, your emotions and pride quickly spiral out of control.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, enemies to lovers, fake dating, part 1 out of 2, angst, some swearing

★ 𝐰𝐜: 5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: i had HELLA writers block while writing this, so if it seems chaotic and rushed that's why. i really wanted to scrap this but i spent so long on it i would be disappointed if i did. this is part one out of two, and i promise to get part two out super soon! it should be a lot better than this one *sob*

“Is that a new necklace?”

I grimace, the annoying twerp’s voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

“No, Nicholas, it's the one I always wear.” I press my lips into a tight line, staring at the papers in front of me. After everything I’ve tried, I don’t know how he hasn’t caught on with how absolutely, utterly disinterested I am.

Nicholas was a recent graduate from the academy, starting his first year here at the Association. At first he seemed sweet, like an infatuated kid, but it quickly worsened and now I have to deal with harassment every day at work.

He’d do anything and everything to spark a conversation, trying to work any attention out of me despite all my efforts of ignoring him. I tried to be nice originally, letting him down easily whenever he’d pay me compliments and ask me out to lunch.

That didn’t work.

He became more persistent, and I resorted to either giving him the silent treatment or being straight up rude. Throwing him off my back seemed like an impossible task, and I was convinced I had developed some sort of parasite that was bound to me until I retired.

“Ah, I’ve never noticed…” Nicholas sat himself in front of me, and I could feel his stare on my face.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.

“Hey guys!”

Thank God.

Forcing a smile at Tara’s cheerfulness, Nicholas paid her a nod, clearly unsettled with her interruption. She came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. If there was anyone who was capable of putting a wedge in between me and my borderline stalker, it was Tara.

“Are you excited for the Hunter’s Ball? I can't believe it’s already coming up…” She sighed dreamily behind me, resting her cheek on the top of my head. While the Hunter’s Ball wasn’t my favorite event, it was typically a good time.

Well, at least before Nicholas came along.

I couldn’t imagine how it would go this year, him crawling six feet up my ass as I try to shake him off the whole night. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him sober, I can’t even imagine how much more unbearable he’d become with drinks in his system. This was the one night of the year the Association actually shows their appreciation for their employees, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t enjoy myself.

“It’s always nice we get a plus one,” Tara mentions, “I can't wait to see who everyone brings." She nudges my shoulder with her arm, laughing.

The look in Nicholas’ eyes told me everything he was about to say. I could practically hear the words come out of his mouth before he even spoke them-

“Yeah, I’m gonna bring my boyfriend.” I spoke before thinking, the words an act of desperation. Nicholas’ eyes widened and Tara’s arms flew from my body, as she whipped herself to stand in front of me.

Oh no, why would I say that- Why did I say that?!

“Your… what!” She started grasping at my hands, questions flying out of her mouth before I couldn’t even process half of them, “Since when? What’s his name? Where’d you meet him? Do you have any pictures?”

I knew I had gotten myself into trouble, I didn’t even have the slightest clue as to who I could possibly feign to be my boyfriend; but the look on Nicholas’ face told me I needed to keep up whatever I was doing, because it was working.

I smiled innocently, “We’ve been keeping it on the down low, things are still pretty new. I was planning to hard launch us at the Ball.” Chuckling nervously, I was convinced nobody was believing a word I was saying.

“Ohmygosh Mystery Man! I’m so excited!” Tara continued to blabber on, trying to pull any detail she could out of me. I made eye contact with Nicholas and thought about how soon the Ball was - only a week away.

Letting out a sigh of relief because of my believable lie, the feeling soon faded and was replaced with chest crushing stress. I had no boyfriend, and no plan; I was going to have to think fast.

-

Laying in my bed that night, I scoured my brain for any potential suitor. I thought maybe Zayne, a cardiac surgeon and childhood best friend. He’d be perfect, all my coworkers would be so pleased, but a cow would have to jump over the moon before he’d even think about complying. Maybe Xavier’s friend Jeremiah? A sweet florist…No, Xavier would never let me do that.

I flipped onto my stomach, screaming into my pillow. Smushing my face into the fabric, I silently prayed I’d suffocate and be free from this mess I’d webbed myself into.

Before I could pass out and be put out of my misery, my phone started to ring.

Not even looking at the caller id, I picked it up and answered with a disgruntled, “Hello?”

“You never sound pleased to hear from me, Kitten.”

I screamed into the pillow again, Sylus being the complete utter last person I wanted to hear from right now.

He chuckled over the line, “Actually, I think that might be the unhappiest I’ve heard you.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I not just call to talk? I’ve had a rough day and wanted to hear your voice.”

I let out a forced laugh, “You’ve had a rough day? YOU’VE had a rough day? You will not believe the day I had then.”

His voice softened, “Talk to me about it then.”

While I most definitely realized my day couldn’t be comparable to his, as he was essentially a mob boss running the N109 Zone, venting about my problems felt nice. As much as I couldn’t stand Sylus, with his incessant arrogance and backhanded flattery, he was easy to talk to sometimes.

Sometimes.

“I don’t even know how I got myself into this situation. Well, I do know, I just didn’t mean to!” I groaned, throwing my face into my hands.

He sits in silence for a minute, and I can hear the soft playing of one of his records in the background. It’s annoying how he feels the need to call and bother me, with a side of music, to wind down at night.

“When is it?” He finally asks, and I hear shuffling.

“Next Saturday, so…” I can practically see the clock ticking down, “Shit, a week from today.”

“What time?”

“9- Sylus, why?”

“I’ll be there at 8:30 then.” There’s mirth in his voice and my face goes pale, “Sylus, no, don’t you dare. It cannot be you, just let me borrow one of your men or something.”

Sylus lets out a low laugh, “Now why would I do that when I could just be your date?”

“Not date,” I cut him off, “fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, fake boyfriend.” He clucked his tongue, “Why would I let someone else be your fake boyfriend?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re the big bad Onychinus boss?” Pressing a finger to my temple to ease the headache that he was becoming, I started to pace my floor. “You’re stepping into enemy territory at this event, there’s no way I’ll be able to save your ass if you get found out, let alone what will happen to me and my place at the Association.”

“I’ve already met some of your coworkers before, remember? It’s best if it's me instead of some stranger, and trust me sweetie, they won’t know.”

My coworkers did take a liking to him when they met during one of our outings, Sylus just had this charisma about him that sucked everyone in; the mysterious fruit vendor Skye who was absolutely horrid at karaoke. He stole their hearts quickly, and I’m lucky if they don’t ask me at least once a week how he’s doing. Sylus was just magnetic like that, even if you tried your damndest to hate him, there’s just something about his demeanor that’s magic.

He has a point here, and it’s killing me to admit he’s right.

“Fine,” I snap, “but absolutely no funny business.”

“I’m not sure what you could possibly mean by that, Kitten.” Sylus lets out a low laugh that makes me want to punch my phone, “I’ll be there at 8:30.”

Before I can respond, he quickly hangs up. I’m left sitting on my bed with racing thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong. Was bringing Sylus really worth getting this creep off my back? Well, if there was anyone who could scare him off, it would be the leader of Onychinus. Worst case scenario, I have Sylus pull a gun out on him.

I shake my head, trying to clear my stupid thoughts.

I sent him a picture of the invitation, which included the dress code. I wasn’t too worried about him making a fool out of me, just the overwhelming anxiety of bringing a top criminal as my date to a work event where we quite literally are attempting to hunt this exact man down.

Trying to trust Sylus isn’t the easily discoverable type, I make a miserable attempt to put my mind to rest, and get some sleep.

-

The next week following my abrupt news of a boyfriend was hell. Not to my surprise, word was quickly spread through the Association, and I was constantly being flooded with questions and endless pressure to just ‘give them a name!’. I even had Xavier at my desk with questions one morning, and he was always the type to steer away from work related gossip.

Not to mention Sylus himself was being utterly insufferable. He was taking this far too seriously, sending lunch and flowers to my work with paper love notes attached. It was bringing on more attention at work, and every time I told him to stop, he’d just send more extravagant bouquets that cluttered my desk and made the surrounding area smell like a funeral.

At one point, I woke up to a box in the mail. Inside was a black velvet dress, a ruby necklace, and heels. Sending him an angry text about how I have my own clothes, he just responded by transferring 200 dollars into my bank account saying, ‘Get your nails done too. Match the outfit.’

By Saturday night, I was almost ready for everyone to meet Sylus, just so people would stop with the ‘fake boyfriend trivia’ while I’m on the clock, and his annoying attempts at romantic gestures.

The night of, at 8:30 on the dot, I heard a knock at my door.

On the other side was a well dressed Sylus; I think it was the first time I had ever seen him done up so nicely. He wasn’t ever one to slack on his looks, but in his black pinstripe suit and red tie that matched my gifted necklace, I had to take a second. Even though he made me constantly want to take my gun and replicate the time I shot him, I could never deny he’s hot. His arguably perfect looks just adds to the hatred.

He looked me up and down, smirking. The dress he had gotten me was backless and stopped at my ankles, with a slit up to my thigh that had me worried that with one wrong move I’d flash all my coworkers. Opening his mouth to I’m sure to make a snide comment, I cut him off.

“I have to put on my shoes and that necklace, but then I’m ready.” I walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the ruby piece that was gifted, struggling with the clasp thanks to the nails I was practically forced to get.

“Here.” Coming up behind me, Sylus took the necklace from my hands. Brushing my hair out of the way, I felt his fingers against my neck as he secured the jewelry with ease. I turned around to face him, and he smiled down at me.

He gestured to the couch, “Sit.”

His one word commands were starting to get on my nerves. “What?” I glared at him.

Grabbing my shoulder and softly pushing me back, I tumbled onto the couch. Sylus snickered, “I said sit, Kitten.”

Getting on his knees, he picked up my ankle, slipping the heel onto my foot.

“I could’ve done this myself.” Scoffing, I averted my eyes to anywhere that wasn’t Sylus on his knees in front of me.

“I’m sure you could with those nails, sweetie.” He hooked the straps around my ankle, and I felt my skin burn red where his fingers danced. It was definitely red with anger.

For sure.

Standing when he was done, Sylus reached a hand out to me. Narrowing my eyes at his hand, I ignored the help. To my dismay, I stood up too fast in heels and lost a bit of my balance. Sylus caught my waist and gave me a smug smile, pulling me into him. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight, my love.”

I grimaced, pulling away from his grasp and heading to the door. “Oh, do not do that. No more of that.”

“We have to get into character, I’m just being prepared.”

“Be in character when we’re there. Not here.”

“I have to get into the mindset.” Sylus creeped closer to me, and I stepped back. At this point, I was essentially pinned in between him and the door. “After all, I have to practice so I can impress everybody.” He leaned down, his breath fanning against the side of my neck.

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, opening the door behind me and taking a backwards step out. Sylus stumbled at the sudden movement, and I smirked at his loss of composure. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”

-

When we arrived, I felt my heart begin to race. All the mental preparation I had done for this exact night fled my mind as soon as Sylus put the car into park. My worry was not of showing off my new fancy fake boyfriend, it was the fact that I was bringing my new fancy fake boyfriend into an arena that was hunting him. Over the past week I’ve tried telling myself he’s not easily discoverable, I mean, if he was, the Association would’ve had him tracked down by now. However, knowing my luck, I was preparing for the worst.

Sylus gently placed his hand on my thigh, attempting to give me a reassuring smile, “It’ll be okay, Kitten. Just follow my lead.”

We’re fucked.

He walked around, opening the door for me. His car was clearly the nicest and most expensive out of all the guests tonight, and I knew if anybody saw I’d never hear the end of it.

When we were nearing the entrance, I sighed, shoving down my pride and grabbing Sylus’ arm, wrapping myself sweetly around his bicep. I watched his lips curve upward into a smug smile, and I suppressed the urge to throw myself off and take my heel to his-

“Invitation please.” Sylus handed the men working the door the two slips of paper, and I begrudgingly walked in clinging to his arm.

‘Playing the character’, I thought.

The venue the Ball was being held at was extravagant, with a high, golden ceiling, and golden marble floors.

It was filled to the brim with people that worked for the Association, plus their guests. I winced at the sheer amount of people, automatically going into defense mode due to the overwhelming fact that we were outnumbered.

“Smile, sweetie.” Letting go of his arm, Sylus took his pointer finger and thumb, lightly pulling the corners of my mouth upward.

I nipped at his finger, and he poked my nose as a warning.

I heard someone shriek my name, and I whipped around to see Tara quickly approaching. “Oh wow, you’re beautiful!” She wrapped me up in a tight hug, rocking me side to side. Letting go of me just as fast, Tara gasped when she saw Sylus.

“Skye! Oh my gosh it’s you, how sweet!” She fawned over us, and he smiled kindly at her, “You look lovely tonight, Tara.” If he kept up the nice talk, I was going to put my head through one of the walls.

“Here, come with me. Some of us already have a table together!”

Tara dragged us over to a table where a few of my most nagging coworkers stood around talking. Introducing him to the ones who had never met him, I groaned internally, ready for the torment of questions to begin.

“So,” Tara dropped the first bomb, “how long have you two been a thing?” I know this has been weighing on her worse than me all week.

“About a month now.” Sylus answered with ease. I tried to suppress a shocked look on my face, because I was planning on doing all the talking; but that continued, them rapid firing questions and Sylus answering all of them as if he had this all thought out. I mean, shit, he was convincing me.

“I have to know how this happened!” One of them said, and Sylus tucked my hair behind my ear, pretending to recall the moment.

“I had feelings for her for a while,” He said, smiling down at me, “and it got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. It was spur of the moment, but I showed up at her door in the middle of the night and had to ask her if she felt the same.”

Damn. He was good.

All the girls squealed, “That's so romantic!”

I placed my hand on Sylus’ chest, batting my eyelashes up at him, “I’m gonna go get a drink, d’you want anything?” He grabbed my hand, matching my energy, and kissing my knuckles, “No, sweetie, that’s quite alright. I’ll stay here and entertain your friends.”

All of them cooed at the sight, probably thinking we were so lovesick for each other it hurt. Well, it did hurt, this whole thing was a pain in my ass I needed to be over.

I grabbed a glass of wine from the drink table, the group out of sight. Sighing, I resisted the urge to down the glass all at once. While I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t deny everything was going well. Everyone was pleased, so I tried to relax.

“That's a pretty necklace,” I heard from behind me, “is it new?”

Nevermind.

Turning around, there stood Nicholas. His eyelids drooped, and he reeked of wine.

“What did you say?” I asked, looking around for the quickest exit route.

“I said I liked your necklace. Is it new?”

God, does this twerp have any other material?

“Yes, it is.” A low voice said, and I felt an arm wrap around my waist. My head shot up to meet Sylus in the eyes; I guess my face was screaming, ‘Help me!’, because he gave my side a soft squeeze of reassurance.

“Oh.” Was all Nicholas replied, shooting his eyes back and forth between Sylus and I. In his head, I imagined the pieces clicking together. ‘This is it,’ I thought, ‘finally he’ll leave me alone!’

“This song is nice… Would you care to dance?” There were no thoughts behind his eyes. This guy was genuinely dense. I could’ve sworn my jaw dropped at his stupidity, and Sylus chuckled next to me.

“So sorry, but tonight she’s mine.” Swiftly sweeping me away, Nicholas and my glass of wine were quickly left behind.

“Why don’t you dance with me instead, sweetie?” Sylus said, leading me to the open floor where people were dancing to the soft classical music.

Sylus put my hand on his shoulder, intertwining my other hand with his. Placing his hand on my lower back, he pulled me in closer to him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes stared into mine, and there was something behind them I couldn’t quite place my finger on. We started slowly ballroom dancing in our own little spot on the floor, a bit away from everyone else. As much as I wanted to strangle this man, I could relax a little in his arms. He just felt safe sometimes.

Sometimes.

“You’re doing good tonight.” Sylus said, still looking into my eyes.

“Thanks.” I started playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, “So where do we go from here?”

He raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do, Kitten.”

“How am I going to tell my coworkers that we ‘broke up’ right after this? They’ll be suspicious.”

“We could keep doing this for a while.” Sylus shrugged, smirking.

Groaning, I slammed my head on his shoulder, “Tonight was bad enough, I can’t do this for any longer.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He was right. I didn’t have a better idea.

-

So we did just that.

I was going to give it two months. Then, it would say we were together for three months total, which looked like a completely reasonable time to test run a relationship and then call it quits.

At first, I was completely miserable. I already couldn’t stand Sylus as a friend, how could I stand him as my ‘boyfriend’? After that night at the Ball, to my dismay, he completely won everybody over. It made me feel like I had to put more effort into faking all of this.

The extravagant gifts sent to my work started getting sent to my place too. I told him he didn’t have to send them to me outside of work, let alone at all, but he always insisted so he could “stay in character”.

Whether it was convincing me to let him take me out to fancy places, like dinner or a show, it was always just to keep him ‘in character’. I think he just liked using that excuse so I would be forced to hang out with him and not be able to deny or complain about it.

Though, after a bit, it became easy to slip into a groove.

I started to not mind the talk about Sylus; everything started to become bearable, and dare I say it, kind of fun.

We had played with the claw machines once, and he won a white cat plushie. Jokingly, I had told him it looks exactly like him, and snapped a picture of the cat next to his face to prove a point.

I made that photo my wallpaper, to make things more realistic. It freaked me out for a while whenever I’d open my phone, but I came to like it after a while. Sylus looked kind of cute in the photo, his expression mocking the plushies. He looked kind, warm, a soft look on his face you didn’t see on him often. The more I saw the photo, the more it made me smile.

I began looking forward to his calls, his texts. He’d call me to say good morning, or tell me goodnight, even if he was in the middle of a meeting. The ‘fake dates’ became less uncomfortable as I grew more accustomed to the situation we had put ourselves into. The roles we were playing came easier and easier with time.

Which was causing a problem.

It wasn’t hard to notice the way my body would flush when he touched me, or how my once strong demeanor around him would start to falter. Words and actions of his that would be fast to anger me, quickly changed into something else.

I was starting to care about him. How annoying.

There was one day when Sylus decided he was going to pick me up from work. “Your coworkers will think it's cute.” He had said, and who was I to deny a free ride home.

He showed up on his bike in his leather jacket, in all his badass glory. Leaning against the bike, he stood up straight and smiled at me when I came outside. As time had gone on, Sylus was slowly becoming less hard and uncaring towards me. He began treating me like I was fragile, always so gentle with me. Him getting into character I suppose.

Sylus held his hand out towards me, and when I took it, he pulled me into his chest. I squealed, laughing at the sudden gesture.

“They’re looking,” He said, glancing at a few of my coworkers still inside, watching us intensely, “Kiss me.”

I choked, “What?”

He grabbed my chin, tilting it up slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, almost as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’.

Nodding my head yes, Sylus smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. For how aggressive he can be as the leader of Onychinus, the kiss was unusually soft. I had imagined kissing him, for all of this, and I never expected him to be the type to be so kind and gentle.

My blood was rushing in my ears and I thought I was going to melt under his hands. I didn’t realize just how bad I subconsciously wanted this until it was happening, and I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him so hard I could steal the air from his lungs, I wanted to grip his shirt so tightly my knuckles turned white because I could finally have him.

When he pulled away, and kissed the corner of my eye, I knew I was fucked.

I didn’t just care about him, I wanted him. I wanted Sylus to be mine, I wanted this to be real, I wanted-

No, I couldn’t want anything.

It would never work. Our lives were too different, we were too different, everything would be doomed from the start. He was a faraway dream that would never come true. He could never be what I wanted.

I always wanted security, someone stable and safe. Sylus could never give me that.

So why do I want him so badly?

-

It was my friend's birthday party.

I had invited Sylus, because what had originally been a fake relationship to get a creep coworker off my back, spread like a wildfire to a fake relationship that was now known by all my friends.

I only invited him because I knew it would be strange if I showed up without him.

After he kissed me, and my feelings became a living hell to deal with, I started to pull back; started to psych myself out mentally, constantly spending time just trying to convince myself how bad we would be for each other. Trying to will myself to hate him again, go back to where I was two months ago. When Sylus was a nuisance, an annoying pest.

I don’t even really think he noticed. Or if he did, I couldn’t tell.

When we got to the party, the music and laughter could be heard from outside, a drastic change from the almost silent car ride. Sylus tried to make conversation, and I shut him down almost every time.

We walked in, and my friends all greeted him with easy familiarity. They gave him hugs, pats on the back, and he was welcomed effortlessly.

I stood a distance away as he laughed with my friends, and my chest began to hurt. Guilt, dread, I felt doomed. He wasn’t meant to be here, he was never meant to be here. Sylus doesn’t belong with my friends. Sylus doesn’t belong with me.

None of this is real. All of this is one little lie that spun into a web of something so much bigger, and I’m stuck in it.

He looks happy with them, happy with my friends. Happy in my space, with my people. How could he? He’s an intruder, he knows it.

I knew tonight was the night I was done. This couldn’t go on any longer. No more playing house with Sylus, no more pretending. We’re adults, and this whole thing was so childish, and it ends now.

I stepped outside, sitting on the back patio. The night air was cold, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sharp air of my distress that was making my lungs constrict.

“There you are.”

I didn’t turn around to meet the voice, just kept staring into the trees ahead.

Sylus stood beside me, running his fingers through the top of my hair. I relished the feeling, ‘one last time, it’s okay’.

He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask why I was out here, if I was okay. I was happy for that, it could give me another reason to be mad at him. To hate him again. To try and rile up all my old feelings, stir old bitterness.

“I want to go home.” I finally said, breaking the silence.

We got in the car, this time he didn’t try to speak. His face was hard again, the soft look long gone. I think, in a way, he knew too. He knows this is for the better.

I said goodbye, told him goodnight before he left. Told him to drive safely.

It had been two months, that’s what I gave him. It was time for it to be over anyways. I changed my wallpaper, changed his name back. I didn’t care if I had to deal with Nicholas at my job anymore, anything was better than the gutted feeling I got from every interaction with Sylus. Nothing was worth that.

The next day, it was radio silence. For the first time in two months, there was nothing. No good morning, no texts throughout the day, no calls to tell me goodnight; and that just continued. For days. Silence.

I had perfected the speech I was going to tell my coworkers, “We gave it our best, but it just wasn’t going to work out between us.” It was reassurance for them, and myself.

It just wasn’t going to work out between us.

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: pre-seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, roommate au warnings: spencer and reader are roommates !!! reader wears Miss Dior. a/n: so very sorry for not posting in so long! got busy with extracurriculars and uni started up again :( big thank you to @januaryembrs and @hotchfiles for reading through this first !! wc: 1.04k you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

Spencer officially joins the BAU late July once he completed his time at the FBI academy. It wasn’t necessarily fair for the other agents who hoped and prayed that they would be the lucky someone who would get to join the extremely elusive Behavioural Analysis Unit upon graduation, especially because he was the one who was chosen by name by the esteemed Jason Gideon. It also wasn’t necessarily fair to get home after four long egregious months of constant movement and firearm training to his roommate.

“You’re home!” 

He grimaces a little bit, dropping his heavy suitcases and bags at the doorway with a heavy sigh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’d bet! You’ve got more things than you left with!” You’re beaming, taking his new FBI registered duffle bag out of his hands and into the living room. “Your hair is so long now.”

“I feel like a wet dog,” he grumbles, pushing the strands out of his face. “Were you okay with rent? I’ll pay you back and everything–”

You laugh, shaking your head and pulling him to sit on the couch by the wrists. “It’s okay, Spence, relax. One of my friends needed a temporary place to stay, so I really only needed to pay a couple weeks of rent by myself. You’re probably starving, aren’t you? I’ve got pizza on the way.”

His cheeks burn at the contact, his throat going dry and his head almost as if it’s about to explode. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you repeat, beaming. Your fingers tug at the FBI windbreaker he’s sporting– big on his shoulders and long at the hips. “This is new. You went shopping without me?”

“Gideon insisted I get more FBI uniform,” he explains hurriedly, “he said it’d made me feel more ‘official’. They didn’t have any more in my size.”

“It’s cute! Give us a spin, Walter.” 

He does it half-begrudgingly, rising from the couch pillows and doing an awkward spin. He used to be used to it, before he went away for four months to train at the academy. He’ll need to get re-used to it, he supposes. 

“You look very official,” you say with genuinity, grinning ear to ear. “Got anything else?”

His nose scrunches in distaste as he sits back down. “There’s meant to be more?”

“The uniform isn’t just a jacket, is it?” You ask with furrowed brows. “The bag is a nice touch, though.”

“They said that I should get the polo, but I don’t think I’d ever wear it,” he explains, going through his things. They’d all need a good wash, he decides, throwing his clothes onto the floor. “There isn’t a uniform policy at the BAU, though. Just to be clean and tidy.”

“You’re already a pro at that, aren’t you, Walter?” 

His cheeks glow at your jest and he kicks at the pile of clothes at his feet. “You don’t think I’m weird, do you?”

“Weird for… being clean and tidy?” You blink, poking at his shoulder. “If that’s what weird is, then I hope there are a lot of other guys who are weird.”

“That’s an oxymoron.”

“Exactly.” He catches your smile as you speak. “It’s not a bad thing to be different. You know that, don’t you?”

“In theory,” he responds vaguely.

You huff, “You ought to remember it with that big brain of yours.”

“There’s no significant correlation between brain size and intelligence,” Spencer reminds you again, shrugging his jacket off. “You should remember that, too.”

*** 

It’s an incredibly cold November morning, just a couple of days after Halloween, and Spencer has been tearing up and down the apartment in search of his windbreaker. The team are set for Alaska this time around, and though his sweaters and wool socks provide some warmth, it was nothing compared to the inner pockets of his FBI assigned windbreaker that hold heat warmers. 

“Have you seen it?” He asks hurriedly, rushing through the living room. “I need to leave in three minutes or I’ll miss my train–”

“Seen what?” You ask, frowning as you fill his travel mug with hot coffee and sugar. “What are you looking for?”

“My jacket,” he explains halfheartedly. “You know the one.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, moving to the bathroom and pulling it off the hook. “Spencer?”

He visibly relaxes, taking it from your hands with a hint of embarrassment. “Oh.”

“You let me borrow it after you picked me up from the Halloween party, don’t you remember?” The corners of your lips quirk upwards in jest as his expression shifts into that of realisation. “I put it behind the door so that you could find it easier. Not that it helped, clearly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks pink in the light. “Thank you. See you later.”

“See you later,” you agree, and he’s already out the door, his jacket and travel mug in tow.

*** 

“Good morning,” JJ says, her bright blue eyes drowsy with sleep despite her greeting. “Are you guys ready to go?”

Spencer nods, zipping up the windbreaker and snapping the buttons together. Even in Virginia it’s still freezing. He doesn’t want to imagine how cold it’d be in Alaska. 

“Someone smells nice,” JJ chirps with a grin. “Is that– is that Miss Dior?”

“What?” Spencer sniffs, frowning. “Who?”

“The perfume?” She repeats the name, her brows flushed together. “I’m not crazy.”

“Is that Miss Dior?” Hotch asks in bemusement, sniffing the air. He looks at Jennifer with a mix of appreciation and a nod to say good taste. “Haley used to wear it all through college.”

“I’m not wearing it,” JJ insists, shaking her head with a laugh. “Spence?”

He’s barely paying attention to the conversation, frantically Googling an image of whatever the hell Miss Dior is. He’s met with the familiar rectangular bottle with pink liquid and a bow on the neck, something that he’s seen on your dresser multiple times. 

“My roommate,” he groans, covering his face with the palms of his hands. “She borrowed my jacket a couple days ago.”

“Ooh, a lady friend,” JJ snickers, “and she borrowed your jacket. How gentlemanly of you.”

Spencer sends you a long text message about the importance of not spraying perfume on clothes once he gets off the jet.

reblogs are always appreciated !!

you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

[motorsportbarbie13]

Post It - Part 2 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

Part 1 Master List

warnings: nothing heavy really. little talk about depression and therapy and too much partying but like, nothing traumatic. :) pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3.9k (a note: if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know but please please let me know if you want on the general tag list of just this fics list. if you don't specify, i will just put you on this fics list!!)

“So, are we going to talk about what that was back there?” Hannah corners you the moment you arrive in the Red Bull garage just as Liam is hopping into the car for the first practice session of the weekend.

Your eyes drop to the floor, avoiding eye contact with her. “Can we just pretend you didn’t see anything?” 

Hannah laughs but you see the hurt that flashes in her eyes. ‘Um, no we cannot because you failed to tell me you’re talking to LANDO NORRIS.” 

“Shh! Hannah!” You hiss, swatting at her bare arm while looking wildly around, hoping that no one else in the garage is paying attention to your conversation. “I was talking to him. Was. There’s a big difference.” 

Hannah levels a glare at you, her brow quirking, “Then why did Lando look like he was a cat with a dish of warm milk when I saw him walk past just now? The only time I’ve ever seen that man that happy was when they won the Constructors last year.” 

You roll your eyes, of course he was strutting around the paddock after getting you to agree to go out with him tonight. That man had no poker face. “I said I’d go out to dinner with him tonight.” You sigh, shutting your eyes so you don’t have to see Hannah’s reaction. 

Your friends brows furrow, confusing clouding her features. “What? Back up, I think I missed a few chapters here. When I left you looked like you wanted to strangle him. And what about the blonde? Allie or something?” 

Frowning you cross your arms over your chest as you turn towards the tv screens in the garage. The camera was fixed directly on the papaya colored McLaren 2 garages down. When it cuts to Lando pulling on his balaclava, you avert your eyes. You can’t escape him today, can you? 

“He says he can explain.”

Hannah snorts, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he can.” 

You can’t help the laugh that starts in the back of your throat, shaking your head. “That’s quite literally exactly what I said.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were talking to him?” Your friend asks, her voice soft. 

“I don’t know.” You admit, cheeks burning with shame. “It just…happened. And then it stopped. And then, well, here we are.” 

Guilt sits heavy in your belly when you chance a glance at your friend. She doesn’t look hurt anymore, just confused and a touch of something else. Something deeper that you know probably feels a bit like betrayal. Hannah had been one of your first influencer friends you made when this life kind of fell into your lap. She was kind and not superficial like a lot of the other girls in your world could be. Your friendship with her felt genuine and you knew she felt the same way.

“Here we are.” Hannah echos, skepticism dripping from her words. “The only place in the entire world where you knew exactly where he’d be. Is that why you agreed to come on the trip with me? For him?” 

You turn to her then, everything clicking all at once.Your face goes pale with horror. “Hannah! No!” You gasp, ignoring the few heads that swivel in your direction “Oh my God, Hannah. I swear I did not accept your invitation with any other intent beyond hanging out with you. I swear."  

Hannah looks away then, cheeks flaming like yours were earlier. Your eyes flutter close and you reach out to pull your friend into a hug. “I mean, what am I supposed to think?” She whispers. 

Tugging on her hand you pull her into a corner of the garage where it’s a bit quieter. “I swear to you, H that’s not even remotely true. I honestly almost turned down the whole trip because I didn’t want to see him.” 

Hannah blinks away the watery tears that you knew had been threatening to spill. “Yeah?” 

You nod earnestly, “Yes, please believe me. I wanted to come with you more than I didn’t want to see him. I thought maybe I could just avoid him the whole weekend. Please, don’t think that I was using you to get closer to him.” 

Hannah knows you well enough to be able to read you pretty easily. She regards you for a few moments before nodding. “Okay, fine.” 

Relief washes over you. “You believe me?” 

Hannah shrugs, “You genuinely did look like you wanted to strangle him back there for a few minutes so…” 

You snort, rolling your eyes. “How many people in this paddock and I had to be saved by a boy wearing bright orange.” 

“It’s papaya.” Hannah corrects, earning a swat on her shoulder from you. 

“I hate you.” You shoot back but it’s useless and you both end up dissolving into a fit of giggles, once again pulling several glances in your direction, including the glare of Christian Horner himself who looks like he’s about to toss you both out of the garage any moment. 

Both of you immediately stop laughing seeing the eyes of the Red Bull boss on you, chuckles continuing under your breath. You’re both quiet for several minutes, watching as the tv screens show Liam rounding one of the corners followed closely by Max in the other Red Bull car. 

Hannah is the first to break the silence. “This whole thing is a bit…messy, don’t you think?” 

“I know!” You groan, dragging the palms of your hands over your face. “But he wants to explain and…” You pause, giving Hannah a sidelong glance as she waits for you to continue. “I kinda want to hear what he has to say?” 

Hannah levels a glare at you and you can almost feel the way she wants to roll her eyes at you. “That’s fine, but please don’t let him explain his way into your bed tonight.” 

“Hannah!” You gasp before you both dissolve into peals of giggles, much to Christian Horner’s dismay. 

celeb.influencer.gossip posted

celeb.influencer.gossip out favorite american influencer @/yourusername was spotted in China today at the start of the F1 race weekend. While she arrived with Liam Lawson's girlfriend Hannah St. John, a few eagle eyed fans caught her talking to (and hugging) McLaren driver Lando Norris. According to a source, two looked a little...awkward at first but by the time they parted, they looked a little more...friendly. user9198 her and lando would make such a cute couple tho >>>user200 he has a girlfriend tho??? or am i making this up??? >>>user222 allegra? nah, she only hangs around for the clout. L always looks miserable around her user111 shes so pretty >>>user222 FR

Candles flicker, soft and golden, in the low light of cozy hotel restaurant later that night, casting moody shadows across the entire space. From his spot at a corner table, tucked strategically away from the bustle of the rest of the restaurant, Lando watches you approach as the hostess leads you towards him. He had spotted you the moment you walked up to the hostess stand, your hair tumbling down around your shoulders in loose waves, knee high boots clicking against the wide planked mahogany flooring, tiny black sweater dress hugging every curve so dangerously you should probably be arrested. 

The restaurant you’re meeting him in tonight is the one directly next to the lobby of the hotel several of the teams are staying at this weekend for the race. As a result, it’s a bit busy with teams getting their dinner before heading up for an early night in preparation for tomorrow’s main race. Lando had requested a quiet table near the back tonight though, not wanting this important conversation he knew needed to happen interrupted by anyone. The restaurant itself was dimly lit, tables draped in creamy white linen with candles providing the main source of light. Flecks of gold dotted the black marble walls that absorbed most of the harsh light filtering in from the lobby just outside. 

The moment your gazes connect, Lando’s mouth goes dry at the smile that hitches up at the corner of your lips, painted a deep scarlet shade tonight. You struggle not to drop your eyes to the ground under his intense scrutiny, somehow managing to maintain eye contact with him. The look he’s giving you though borders on predatory, like he’s already planning how slowly he can consume you tonight. 

Your stomach flips delightfully at the way he smiles at you when you get closer. When he stands you can see he’s wearing a sinfully well tailored suit, clearly intent on impressing you tonight. 

He doesn’t hesitate to reach out and take you in his arms the moment you’re close enough, the hostess making a polite retreat without another word. The warmth of Lando’s body settles over you like a heated blanket and you melt into him without really even meaning to. It seems as though you’re powerless against anything once he touches you. 

“You came.” 

Lando holds your chair out for you, encouraging you to sit before he rounds the table to sit himself. You grin, taking a quick sip of water, hoping to beat the parched throat you’re suddenly dealing with. The way Lando’s eyes appear darker than you’ve ever seen them in the low light of the flickering candles has butterflies waking up in your belly. 

“Of course I came. I told you I would, didn’t I?” You look at him, eyes narrowed a bit. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Lando looked a little nervous, anxious almost. It was a far cry from the man you knew from your hours long FaceTime dates a few months ago. His shoulders were hitched up a bit and you could tell he was a bit tense. Something in you wanted to do anything you could to sooth the little crinkles between his eyes that felt like they were a result of some deep rooted anxiety. 

Lando rakes his fingers through his curls, desperately trying to get a hold of his nerves. The way you looked tonight, the way you smiled at him like he hadn’t nearly fumbled what had started back in February with you both, the way you had actually showed up to hear him out. It was all a little too much for him to wrap his mind around. 

He clears his throat, thankful for the bottle of wine he had ordered the moment he sat down. He pours you a glass, relieved when you don’t tell him you prefer something else. 

“Congratulations on getting pole today.” You say before lifting your wine glass to your lips. The rich notes of cherries and something earthy explode across your tongue as you take a deep sip of the red wine Lando had just poured in your glass. 

Lando’s blush deepens, his eyes dropping from yours down to the linen napkin in his lap. He scrubs at the back of his neck. “Thanks, we’re pretty locked in this weekend.” 

“Fastest practice laps and pole for the sprint race? Sounds like it.” 

Lando nods, “The car is good this year.” 

“That’s what they say.” You murmur, taking another sip of wine. 

Silence stretches between you after that, both of you knowing there are things that need to be addressed. Lando doesn’t want to talk about Allegra now and you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to hear the story, not ready to believe what he’s got to tell you. Both of you know it needs to get out in the open though if you have any chance at getting past this and giving your undeniable chemistry that sparks just beneath the surface any chance of growing into something more. 

“So…” You start, swirling the crimson liquid around in the large wine glass. “You said you could explain.” 

Lando clears his throat before taking a drink of his water. He knows he’s going to need a clear mind to walk through what a disaster his life had turned into over the last year. 

He inhales deeply, steadying his nerves and preparing for the worst.

“After my last breakup, I went off the deep end a little.” He begins, his memory flickering back to the countless nights spent drinking the pain of the breakup away the best he could. There had been countless photos and videos of him absolutely obliterated online during the offseason two years ago. 

You sit quietly, allowing him to take the time he needs. You can tell from the way he sits forward slightly, body angled towards you, that he’s struggling with something. You’ve seen that anxious body language reflected in your own mirror countless times. 

“I was getting a lot of negative press coverage and McLaren was getting concerned. My image, my brand, everything took a big hit. I struggled at the beginning of last season and the press chalked it up to my partying. They weren’t wrong, but there was more going on.” 

“I’m sorry, Lando.” You say, your fingers itching to reach out and touch him. 

He shakes his head, “Don’t be. I was being self destructive and it was costing the team. Zak called me into his office one day and told me he expected me to my shit together or else he was going to terminate my contract.” 

Your eyes go wide. The implications of what Lando says are huge. You don’t know a ton about Formula 1 but you do know that Lando is good at what he does and for Zak to threaten to fire him when he was one of the best drivers they’d had in years was a big deal. 

Lando shrugs. “I deserved it.” He says, reading your expression perfectly. “So I hired a PR manager that worked independently from McLaren. At first it was great, I just listed to whatever he said and did what I was told. I stopped going out and drinking, focused more on work, got therapy.” 

“That’s great, Lan.” 

He nods, pausing to look up at the waitress that had come over to take your order. For a brief moment, the story stops and you take the chance to digest what he’s told you so far. You’re not sure how he got from working on his image and life to…Allie but you still wanted to hear the whole story. 

When the waitress leaves you alone once again, Lando pops a piece of bread in his mouth, buying himself some more time. He’s never told anyone the entire story before. Not in the way he’s about to tell you. Not even Max F knew all of the details. 

“It was for a while. Then my image started to recover and I won Miami and Zandvoort. Rich, my PR manager, started to see that things were getting better and started coming up with other things to bring me more positive attention, saying that we had successfully recovered my image but it was time to take it to the next level.” 

You had a feeling this was where Allie was going to come into play. 

“So he introduced me to Allegra. Said being seen with a down to earth, pretty girl would do wonders for my image.”  

Ah, there is was. 

“Allegra? I thought her name was Allie.” 

Lando chuckles, “She insisted I call her Allie in private and in front of our friends. She uses Allegra professionally though.” You nod but stay quiet, encouraging him to go on. “Rich introduced us and wanted us to hang out. He had her go to some event I was hosting in London and then she suddenly ended up in Ibiza at the same time I was there with Max and some of the boys last summer.” 

You raise a brow, surprised at the tone Lando’s voice has taken on. Detached, almost resigned to the fact that his story isn’t something to be proud of. 

“People spotted us together and, as I’m sure you know, once social media got a hold of the story it kind of became this whole thing.” 

“But you never refuted it.” You say quietly, wondering why he had allowed it to go on for so long. “You kept going along with it.” 

Lando shrugs again. You weren’t wrong and he has spent a lot of time since you had ghosted him trying to figure out why he had just allowed the charade to continue for so long. “I liked the attention?” His cheeks go crimson at the confession. 

Your eyes soften at his words. “That’s not a bad thing, Lando.” You say. Losing the internally battle you’d been fighting since you sat down, you reach across the table to brush your fingertips over the back of his hand. His skin is warm, hands calloused from hours in his car. 

“She just kept coming to Monaco, wouldn’t even ask if I was free. I know it was Rich telling her to go, that being seen with me was as good for her as it was for me. And she was nice, for the most part. Once she was here and I accepted it, it was fine but then…” He drops the rest of the sentence, a small smile quirking up at the corner of his mouth. 

“But then?” Your heart hammers against your ribcage, fast as a sparrow. 

“That TikTok of yours popped up on my FYP the night of the livery launch and I was a goner.” He smiles at you, soft and tentative, trying to gauge your reaction of his confession. 

The frown that tugs at the corner of your mouth isn’t what he had been expecting. 

“But you didn’t end…whatever it was you were doing with her, Lando.” You say, frustration edging into your voice. “You continued to allow her to come to Monaco and were seen with her the day after we had one of our longer calls. I was mortified but so beyond happy I hadn’t told anyone about you. That’s why I ghosted you!” 

Lando scrubs his hands down his face, a soft groan escaping his lips. “I know, I know. I’m an idiot, okay? The lead up to this season has been insane. Did you know Drake bet $5 million dollars on my to win the Drivers Championship this year? Drake! I just…” He sighs, sensing that he’s losing this battle with you all of a sudden. “I just made a mistake, okay? I was scared and we were really hitting it off and then you stopped responding-” 

“Because I thought you had a girlfriend, Lando!” You say, heaving a sigh out of pure exasperation. 

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Lando leans forward, capturing your hand in his once again. You hate how good it feels, having him touch you. “I fucked up and the moment I figured it out I fired Rich and ended things with Allegra. I can show you the text messages if you don’t believe me.” 

You sigh again, shaking your head. “I believe you.” You murmur, voice soft. “I believe you but I don’t know if I can trust you, Lan.” 

His eyes go wide, an earnest look sitting there on his face. “Tell me what you need to trust me then, I’ll do whatever it takes. Those hours we spent on FaceTime together, the text conversations? Those were some of the best moments I’ve had in a really long time. You asked me to tell you everything and I did. Just…” Lando drops his head into his hands before letting out a small groan. “Just give me a second chance?” 

You don’t know what truly does it for you in the end. Maybe its the way he effortlessly explained everything that had happened before he met you, the way he looked so defeated when you argued with him, the way you’d been searching his face all evening for even a hint of anything but honesty and still found nothing. Maybe it was the way he had looked at you when you had first saw him from across the restaurant tonight, like you were the only person in the entire universe that even mattered. Maybe it was the fact that you wanted to believe him and deep down, you knew that you could trust him. 

Whatever it was though, whatever little bit of truth that came from Lando’s mouth had you nodding your head before you really understood what your body was doing. “No more lies. No more PR stunts” You start, smiling when Lando’s head whips up, eyes searching yours as if he’s trying to understand what you’re saying. “I will not be your dirty little secret, Lando. I won’t be another pretty girl spotted out with you but never discussed. I don’t want to be another ‘unconfirmed fling’."

For a moment, Lando doesn’t say anything. He just blinks at you like he can’t quite process what you’ve just said. “Anything.” He breathes after several beats. “There’s no way I could ever keep the fact that I bagged you a secret, baby.” You laugh, light and airy, sending a shiver of pleasure down Lando’s spine. His eyes darken slightly as he reaches across the table to tangle his fingers with yours. “No more lies, no more flings, nothing. I fumbled you once and I’m sure as fuck not going to make that same mistake again.” 

“Don’t make me regret giving you another chance, Norris.” 

If you hadn’t been in the middle of a very crowded restaurant, Lando would have gotten up form his chair and gotten on his knees in front of you. He didn’t care that he was being a total simp or that this was probably moving way too fast. If you two had even half the chemistry in real life as you had while you had been talking on the phone a few months ago, he knew this was going to be good. It was going to work. 

Lando looks at you, sly grin sliding across his face. You clock the change in his demeanor instantly. Narrowing your eyes, you tilt your head to the side. “What’s going on in that cute little head of yours.” 

“Watch the sprint from McLaren’s garage tomorrow.” 

The way he says it leaves no room for argument but you still find yourself laughing at the absurdity of it. “In my Red Bull gear?” You tease. 

Lando scoffs, signature cocky grin once again finding it’s way onto his tanned face. “No, you’d have to wear something papaya.” 

“Oh my God!” You exclaim, giggling at the look Lando shoots you. “You really do call it papaya instead of orange. I thought Hannah was fucking with me.” 

Mock outrage crosses his handsome features and you have to tamp down the urge to reach over and kiss him he looks so adorable. “What? No. We take our papaya very seriously at McLaren, thank you. Don’t mock the papaya!” 

“You’re insane.” You say though a fit of giggles, enjoying the way the air between you has shifted into something lighter, more flirty, for the first time that night. 

“Certified, my love.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “But, why were you talking to Hannah about me?” 

“I called you ‘the boy in orange’ and she corrected me, told me it was actually papaya and not orange.” 

Lando leans back in his chair, locking his fingers together behind the back of his head. “I knew I liked that girl.” 

He stares at you for a few moments as the waitress brings you your food. The second you’re alone again, he’s leaning forward again, capturing your hand in his once again. “So, is that a yes?” 

“People are going to talk.” You warn, singsonging the last word. 

He shrugs, “Let them talk.” 

This felt like a step in the right direction. You both knew that if you turned up in the McLaren garage, rumors would start to swirl, people would start to talk. The test would be to see what Lando would do when confronted with the rumors and you knew if you showed up in the garage tomorrow, someone would start asking questions sooner rather than later. 

You regard him over the rim of your wine glass for several moments before smirking. “Fine. Let them talk.” 

yourusername posted

988,001 likes liked by lando, hannahstjohn, yourbostonbff, and others yourusername up past my bedtime ;) hannahstjohn gorgeous girl >>>yourusername xo user0299 are we gonna talk about picture three tho??? >>>user382 uh yes hello? i'd like to report a crime. who is that??? lando cutie >>>user443 uhhhhh... >>>user0293 huh. that's...interesting, isn't it? user828 is it just me or does that third picture look a hell of a lot like lando... >>>user222 isn't he with that allegra chick tho??? user333 GOD i love a good 'soft launch' era >>>user928 fucking SAME bestie

f1.gossip.news posted

f1.gossip.news just a few hours after being seen interacting in the paddock with one another, Lando was spotted AGAIN with the same influencer @/yourusername. Here's what we know: she's american, lives in Boston, her channel was one of the most subscribed to channels on youtube in 2024 and has a degree in photography as well as international business. She has over 2 million followers on Instagram and over 4 million followers on TikTok. It looks like Lando follows her too! While this is the first time these two have been spotted together, it looks like they know each other quite well. What do we think, chat? Do we have a new WAG in the paddock? user0298 isn't he with that other girl...allegra? >>>user002 they've never confirmed that they were together. Lando has said he's been single for over 2 years. >>>user929 please be so fr. those two were at least fwb. she always looked way more into it than L. user2020 shes so cute! i've been watching her vlogs for YEARS. I was OBSESSED with her sorority house content when she was in college. >>>user0299 OMG SAMEEEEE. She's the most unproblematic person on the internet. I hope lando treats her well! user445 lando dating someone so wholesome??? is this what it looks like when your frontal lobe fully develops???

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[m4tthewmurd0ck]

Strawberry Sweet

── Azriel x Fem!Witch/Fae Hybrid Reader

also featuring platonic best friend! cassian x reader, and platonic best friend! rhysand x reader

I ~ INTRODUCTIONS ── PART TWO ── TABLE OF CONTENTS

based on [THESE] lyrics

obviously not book canon. references to battles that didn’t happen in the books, ooc inner circle, etc… 🤷🏻‍♀️ no use of y/n but i do use she / her. no descriptions other than reader being shorter than all 3 bat boys. reader is also able to winnow.

When you first met Azriel, you were sure he hated you.

With the rest of the inner circle, it had been easy. You met the High Lord first after saving his life, and you remembered the day like it happened yesterday.

Rhysand had taken to the skies one night, flying over Velaris and looking down at everything below. An ambush on Day Court had all the high lords on edge, with the message that the attackers weren’t finished being loud and clear. He knew it was bad when Helion reached out personally.

When he was attacked, it was 5 against 1. He ended up plummeting nearly 1,000 feet. As luck would have it, you were just returning home from a very late night trip to the markets.

Ever the quick thinker, you snapped your fingers, and all of your purchased goods floated into your home and all put themselves in their proper place. Then you turned your attention to the man falling from the sky. You held out a hand, and a blue light so dark that they almost resembled shadows, flowed from your palm and slowed the man’s descent just before he hit the ground.

You used your other hand to turn you both invisible until you were able to get him into your home.

To keep a long story short, because that was a tale for another time, it took a lot longer to heal him than you thought. You don’t know how much time passed, all you know is that it was completely dark outside when he fell but when you finished, you could see the sun was about to rise.

Rhysand woke up not long after you finished healing his wings.

You anticipated the first question he asked, so you beat him to it. Giving him a brief version, you explained that you were half witch, half fae. You didn’t explain your family history, or how you came to live alone. There was a sense of relief when he didn’t ask more questions, though you could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to.

“Not that I don’t love hosting you, but shouldn’t you be going? I’d imagine a lot of people are worried about you.”

You felt him trying to get into your mind, and wished you could’ve taken a picture of his face when you told him that wouldn’t be possible unless you allowed it. Centuries of practice ensured that even the strongest mind reader wouldn’t be able to access your thoughts so easily.

When he finally felt strong enough to stand, you followed closely behind him as he headed to the door.

“I’m not officially a healer, obviously, but if you ever need help, you may return. I only ask that you don’t tell anyone that I’m here. If word gets to the wrong person—”

“I won’t tell a soul, you have my word. You’ve saved my life, and I owe you a debt far greater than anything I could pay you.”

You shook your head and insisted you didn’t need, or want, money.

“Well if there’s ever anything you need, no matter how big the request, please come find me.”

“Thank you, High Lord. I will keep that in mind.”

He managed a small smile. “You used magic to stitch part of my wings back together, please, at least call me Rhys. Or Rhysand if it makes you more comfortable.”

You nodded and after he thanked you again for saving his life, and after you said you did it because you wanted to help and not because you wanted something, he took to the skies. You wondered if you’d ever see him again.

But there was still a war going on, and you shouldn’t have been that surprised when he returned a few weeks later. What did surprise you, and even made you a little angry, was that he had not 1, but 2 people with him. Not living under a rock, you recognized them right away. And this was how you ended up meeting Cassian and Nesta.

That anger disappeared when you saw just how injured Cassian was. He could barely stand, even Nesta was having to help keep him upright.

Turning around, you went back into your home and snapped your fingers. Seconds later, everything on your dining table lay in neat piles on the floor. You were thankful that you’d opted for a larger table, and don’t think he would’ve fit on your bed.

You got to work healing him the moment Rhys set him down on the table. Although you worked fast in an attempt to ease his pain, it was clear he was still in a lot of it.

“I need to put him to sleep. He has broken bones and I promise none of you want him awake when I put them back in place.” You looked up at Nesta then, and for the first time since entering your home, her gaze left her mates, and she looked at you.

Unable to speak, she only nodded, silently giving you permission. He was out not long after that, and you worked for another 2 hours until you were satisfied that he’d be alright.

Nesta finally spoke up then, asking if you were going to wake him up. You explained that while putting him to sleep was fairly easy, you didn’t think it was the best idea to wake him up. That required going deep into his mind and wandering around until you found the part of it where he was waiting. That act in itself would give you access to every thought and memory that Cassian has ever had, and you didn’t like to do that to anyone without their explicit permission.

After explaining that it wouldn’t be long before he woke up on his own, as you redid one of Cassian’s bandages, you noticed Nesta give Rhys a look. He only shook his head and whispered that he trusted you.

You were right as you knew you would be, and it was just 10 minutes later that the general of the Night Court was opening his eyes and sitting up.

“Why… am I on a table??”

Nesta hated showing any sign of being vulnerable, so none were more shocked than Rhys and Cassian when she walked over to you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly. “I don’t know how we can repay you.”

You smiled when the 2 of you stepped apart. “No payment is needed, or wanted. I promise—” It felt like all the air left your body when Cassian took his turn with a hug, only he lifted you off of the ground and seemed to be trying to squeeze the life out of you.

“Cass, I happen to like her and would appreciate you not killing her.”

“Sorry! Just, you know, thanks for saving my life.“

After they left , all repeatedly thanking you on their way out, you wondered if what just happened was some sort of fever dream.

Over the next few months, the 3 would occasionally pop in, but all for different reasons. Rhys was still fascinated by you being half witch, half fae. All he wanted to do was sit and ask questions, and he’d hang on to every word you spoke as you answered. Cassian, who insisted you call him Cass, did come to you for healing. But for ‘injuries’ he very much could’ve handled on his own. He healed faster than a normal human, but you lost count of the amount of times you opened your door, or he opened it and barged in, telling you about a paper cut or the smallest bruise.

The first time Nesta came to visit, and you greeted her with “Lady Nesta”, you almost laughed at the daggers she sent your way. You quickly learned it was just Nesta, or Nes. During her second visit, the subject of fighting somehow came up. You mentioned your basic knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, but that you wished you were more advanced, or at least knew how to fight with a weapon. Ever since then, she’d come to visit at least once a week to try and convince you to join her on training with the Valkyries.

“I don’t know that I’d actually be any good,” you admitted, adding on that you were so used to fighting with your powers that you genuinely couldn’t remember what it was like to do so without them.

A month of pestering persuading had you finally agreeing to sit in on a training session with the Valkyries. And that was how you came to meet Azriel.

The following day, Nesta showed up at your front door bright and early. Well not bright, since the sun had yet to even rise, but with how you felt as you slowly got dressed, you knew it was definitely early. She assured you that Valkyries didn’t always train so early, but she wanted to get some one-on-one training with you.

After a brief discussion in which she promises you’ll end up having fun, you ask if all of her family will be training. She says no, with the Valkyries it’s usually only her and Cass. Rhys occasionally pops his head in to observe, but has been busy with everything going on so not so much lately.

“Oh I forgot you haven’t met everyone yet. Feyre, my sister and Rhys’ mate, prefers to train solo so you probably won’t see her today. Then there’s Azriel, he used to train with us a lot, well help train the women, but Rhys has been sending him out a lot lately. What with everyone being on edge from the attacks, we’re all eager to find out who’s behind it all.”

She explains where to go and you take her hand, winnowing you both to the training grounds.

“There she is!” You jump a little at Cass’ voice. He’s all the way on the other side of the room, but so loud that it’s as if he’s right next to you. He puts down a stack of papers and quickly makes his way over to you and Nesta. “You’re just in time, look.” He holds up his hand, showing you the tiniest of paper cuts on his left index finger.

You can’t help but laugh as you take his hand in yours and use your powers to close the cut.

Nesta shakes her head. “For a warrior, you sure are a big baby.” She turns to you, “you can just tell him to suck it up next time.”

Cass gasps, putting his hands on his face. “She’d never do that! At least she cares about me.”

“Do I really though?” You tilt you head.

“Hey! Just for that I’m not going easy on you today.”

“Wait you’re training me?”

“I’m going to take that as wait really! Wow I’m so lucky Cassian the general of the Night Court is training me. Now chop chop, let’s go!” He gently pushes you towards one of the larger mats on the ground.

You turn back to Nesta, who only shrugs and mouths good luck, before joining the other women.

Much like when you were focused on healing Rhys and Cass, time goes by in a blur. Before you know it, you’ve managed to knock Cass onto his back for the third time. You look at a clock nearby and find that nearly 2 hours have gone by.

“Woo!” The 2 of you stop and turn towards the door and see Feyre leaning against the door frame, clapping as she calls out your name and shouts his congratulations.

Cass rolls his eyes, but smiles when you hold out a hand to help him to his feet. “You kicked my ass today, I’d be a little upset if I wasn’t so impressed.”

When you use your powers to immediately dry all of your sweat, you’re happy you get to use your powers for more mundane things like this.

“Ahem!”

Now it’s you turn to roll your eyes. Still, you face one of your hands towards Cass, and he’s also dry just a few seconds later.

“Thank you,” he gives a dramatic bow before telling you all he’s going to go shower.

Before you can ask why he made you do that if he was just planning to shower anyway, Feyre finally approaches you and Nesta. You become aware of how affectionate the inner circle can be, when Feyre pulls you in for a hug, not saying anything for a moment.

“You saved Rhys, I owe you everything. Thank you,” she whispers.

“I promise, you don’t owe me a thing,” you shake your head. “I’m just happy he ended up falling outside of my home. If it had been anywhere else I wouldn’t have seen it, or I wouldn’t have been able to slow his fall.”

Cass pops his head back in the room. “Anyone know if Az is coming by to train later? I couldn’t get a hold of him earlier.”

Feyre nods, “he got back less than an hour ago, I think he told Rhys he’d be by here at some point. Oh, never mind.”

The last part of her sentence comes when she looks toward the door, this time towards the ground. You watch as what looks like a series of small clouds slowly makes their way towards you. Upon closer inspection, you realize they’re shadows.

“Azriel is a shadowsinger, right?” When Nesta nods, you continue. “Do they often travel like this without him?”

“No,” Feyre watches them get closer. “I mean they can if he sends them somewhere but I don’t see why he’d send them here when he knows it’s only us…”

When the shadows finally reach you, they move faster as if they’re excited. One makes its way to the top of your head, swirling around your face. It’s a cool, almost ticklish sensation. Another weaves its way around your legs, while the last one circles your hands, as if it can sense the power you hold.

Healer.

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean I guess technically yes, among other things. But I’m still working on my healing abilities so—” You look up to find Nesta, Feyre, and Cass all staring at you. “What?”

Cass just stares at you, now with his mouth open in shock.

“We didn’t say anything…”

“Wait did — were you talking to the shadows??”

Now you were confused. “Yes… it asked, well it said I was a healer and I was just explaining—”

“You can understand them?!”

“I… they don’t speak to all of you?” You watched in amazement as the shadows continued to explore you.

Cass finally breaks his silence. “No. We’ve never heard them say anything. How the hell…”

Magic. Friend.

You smile. Holding your hands out and palms facing up, you produce 2 dark blue clouds a lot similar in appearance to the shadows. They swarm your clouds, but return to you once they realize that they’re not real shadows.

Feyre observes this, a small smile on her face. “Interesting.”

All at once, 2 of the 3 shadows stop their movements, then quickly make their way back out of the room. A minute later, the shadowsinger himself enters the room.

“Dude!” Cass began to make his way towards his brother, but Nesta elbows him in the ribs as she grabs his arm to keep him in place.

When Azriel looks at you, he freezes. He can only stand and watch as the shadow that remained in the room continues to move between your hands and your head. But when you look up at him, your first thought is that you’ve somehow offended him with your actions, so you drop your hands and step back, closer to Nesta.

The lone shadow finally returns to Azriel, hovering around his right ear. You wish you could hear what it’s telling him.

You’re further embarrassed when all Azriel does is quickly look away from you before he asks Cass to speak to him.

Once the 2 men are out of the room, you voice your concerns out loud. “I should apologize when Azriel comes back in.”

Nesta looks at you, clearly confused. “What, why would you apologize? You haven’t done anything.”

“I just… I don’t think he liked that his shadows were paying so much attention to me. I don’t know if he heard me speaking to one but I don’t want to offend him or cause any trouble.”

Feyre’s expression softened. She replaced Nesta at your side, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “That’s just Azriel, at least with someone he isn’t familiar with yet. It’s not often we bring anyone new around. He just needs time.”

You didn’t stay much longer after that, chatting to the 2 Archeron sisters for only a few more minutes before making an excuse to leave. It was obvious why you were in such a rush, but you were grateful that neither woman tried to persuade you to stay.

When you finally winnowed back to your home, you forced yourself to take a shower before collapsing onto your bed. Maybe a nap was what you needed.

You couldn’t help but think about Azriel. Everyone else was quick to warm up to you, and you still thought that you offended him by how you interacted with his shadows.

As you lay there and waited for sleep to pull you under, you wondered if he’d end up hating you.

what a shitty place to end it hahdjdnsdkc BUT part 2 picks up right where this leaves off! if i kept going we’d end the chapter at like 6k which is too long for my liking.

TAGLIST ── FULL! If you want to be notified when I post for this story, follow my backup which i’ll tag in a comment, and make sure you turn notifications on.

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[valeriehalla]

I have gotten a lot of messages saying that they really love the presentation of CURSE/KISS/CUTE. Often the commenter in question can’t say what exactly it is about the formatting that they appreciate, but that it just reads well and looks good. Well!!! Allow me to bare my wealth of secret knowledge for you once and for all:

I sorta just did some research into book typography...?

Here’s something you should know about web development, alright: typography on the web is really, really bad. The tools we have at our disposal—HTML and CSS—are incredibly powerful, but they are set up to fight you every step of the way towards Good Typography. When you know what you’re looking for, you can fix all the common issues quickly and easily. But it’s not easy to know what to look for, because

problematic typography is overwhelmingly the norm on the web, and

good typography is invisible.

Here’s a screenshot from CURSE/KISS/CUTE episode 0:

Now, I don’t want this post to come across as prescriptive. It is not my intention to tell you, “This is what good typography looks like, so follow my lead exactly.” I made a lot of choices with the typography of my web novel: many of those choices would not make sense in other contexts. What I want to convey to you is what those choices are, so that you will know they’re available to be made.

I mentioned that the web “fights you” when it comes to good typography. What do I mean by that? Well, check this out:

This is how that passage of text renders “by default.” In other words, this is how a web browser would render that text without any input from me about what styles to apply. It kind of sucks ass! But it also looks pretty familiar, right? This is not that far off from how a lot of websites—even websites full of prose (looking at you, AO3)—render text.

I think the most illustrative thing to do here would be to walk you through my thought process and show you, step by step, what decisions I made to turn this unstyled text into the styled version you see in the novel.

So, first things first:

1. We have got to shrink that text column.

Computer monitors... are wide. They are wider than they are tall. They are so wide, and they have so many pixels. This means you can fit a lot of characters on them. If you wanted, you could just have a wall of characters from the left side of the screen all the way to the right side. Talk about efficient!!

You should never, ever, ever do this.

This is one choice that I actually will make a prescriptive statement about, because it’s supported by quite a lot of research: fairly narrow text columns are more legible. Specifically, research seems to support the idea that a width in the range of 50 to 70 characters per line is the most comfortable for people to read*. Every font is different, so it takes a little doing to turn that “characters” figure into a pixel measurement; I went with 512 CSS pixels for the maximum width of my text column:

Isn’t that just so much nicer to read already?

*A commenter reminds me that I’d be remiss not to point out that the research on column width legibility isn’t completely conclusive. You do want to limit the width of your text columns, but going over the 70 character-per-line recommendation isn’t necessarily the end of the world, and you might have good reasons to do so. I did not: as mentioned, one of my goals was to mimic book-style typography, and books by nature have fairly restrained column widths, on account of they’re books.

2. Picking a font.

I’m not going to give you the blow-by-blow on how I decided what font to use. The short story is that I asked some designers, and one of the recommendations I got was the free font Crimson Pro, which I took a liking to immediately:

It’s just an all-around attractive serif font, but one thing I really like about it for use in a novel is its highly-visible quotation marks. They’re just kinda jumbo! They’re real big! Easy to see! In a novel, those things aren’t just ornamentation. It makes a great deal of practical sense for them to stand out just a bit. It also has a fairly large x-height, unlike a lot of the more traditional options, which is good for legibility on a computer screen.

3. Adjusting the line-height

Web browsers default to a line-height of about 1.2em, which, as you can probably tell, is quite cramped. If you go and Google “optimal line height for legibility”, you’ll get a number of results right off the bat suggesting 1.5em. Sounds good! Let’s do that:

Well... hmm. That’s definitely an improvement, but between you and me, it actually looks a bit too spacey to my eyes. I wonder why?

I’ll cut to the chase: the 1.5em recommendation makes some assumptions about the font you’re using. In Arial, the letter “A” is about 0.6em tall; in Crimson Pro, it’s about 0.5em. That means that there’s no one-size-fits-all solution to spacing your lines, because different fonts have different amounts of empty space baked in. How annoying!

Let me tell you something about the kind of nerd I am. When I had this realization, I grabbed some books off my shelf and pulled out a literal micrometer. I started measuring the line-heights against various font features to see if there were any patterns I could spot in professional typesetting. Here’s what I found:

Almost every book on my shelf spaces lines such that the distance between one baseline and the next is about three times the x-height. How cool is that? I clapped my hands like a seal when I put this together.

Adjusting the line-height to match what I observed in the wild gives us this:

It’s a subtle difference, but to my eyes it feels just right. It’s almost like magic!

4. Paragraph spacing...

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Probably the most controversial choice I made with CURSE/KISS/CUTE’s typography was to opt for book-style paragraph indentation rather than web-style paragraph spacing—like so:

I did this for a few reasons:

It’s what I’m used to. I’ve read a lot of books, and this is just the way that books are formatted. I think for something aspiring to the title of “novel”, there’s value in making it look the way a reader probably expects a novel to look.

A novel has a lot of paragraph breaks in it. A paragraph in, say, an encyclopedia entry might go on for half a page or more; whereas it is unusual for a paragraph in a modern work of narrative prose to run for more than a handful of sentences, especially in any scene with dialogue. Because paragraph breaks are so common, spacing between paragraphs in a novel results in a lot of wasted space. Also, subjectively speaking, the additional space seems to me to lend an undue amount of weight to paragraph breaks. I’m just starting a new thought; there’s no need for a 21-gun salute, you know?

Having said that, here are some good reasons you might decide not to do paragraph indentation anyway:

Doing it right requires a bit of extra legwork. Notice how the very first paragraph in the image above has no indentation. That’s because it’s the start of a new section, and the first paragraph in a section traditionally goes unindented. This is an easy detail to miss, and it can be difficult to wrangle CSS into doing it for you automatically.

Web users don’t expect it. For the first decade of the web’s existence, there was no good way to do paragraph indentation; by the time CSS rolled around and made it easy, paragraph spacing had already become the norm. And while CURSE/KISS/CUTE may be a novel, it is also, specifically, a web novel!

But it’s my house and I get to make the rules, so I went with indentation. Incidentally, there seems to be a dire lack of research into the question of whether indentation or spacing is more legible for readers—but the data that does exist appears inconclusive at best. So, the choice really does come down to vibes.

5. The tragedy of justification.

You’ll note that one way in which I did not make my web novel look like a paper novel is the text alignment. It’s un-justified: the right margin is ripsaw-ragged.

This is because it is not possible to justify text on the web.

Oh, you can try. Look right here: there’s a CSS property for it and everything. Just turn on “text-align: justify” and...

Nightmare! The interword spacing on that first line is almost as wide as the indentation!

Reader, I’m afraid that your web browser is simply too dumb. That’s not the browser’s fault: robust algorithms for justifying text without creating these distractingly huge gaps between words have existed for many decades, and modern computers are powerful enough to run them in real time with little performance impact. It’s just, uh—nobody has ever bothered to implement them into web browsers. It is the damnedest thing.

I tried, I really did. You can mitigate this problem a bit if you enable automatic hyphenation, but browsers are unfortunately also kind of dumb at hyphenating. Firefox, for example, will refuse to hyphenate any word containing a capital letter, so any sentence with a lot of proper nouns in it is a lost cause. I tried manually inserting soft hyphens with a text preprocessor I wrote myself, but still these overjustified lines plagued me: when the text column narrows, for example on a phone, even hyphens can’t save you. The line-breaking algorithm is simply too naïve to optimize for well-justified text, and that’s not something you can fix as a web developer.

As a result, my heavy-hearted recommendation is to never use text justification. It’s just too distracting.

6. And then some extra stuff just for me

I added drop-caps because it looks neat and I made the ellipses spacier because I think it looks good when it, uh, when they are spacier. I think that looks pretty good that’s just my opinion though.

That’s all! Hope you learned something bye!!!

[imsogonesposts]

Sixth Times the Charm

|| ao3 || requests are open!! ||

summary: It seems like every time Steve tries to kiss you, something or someone interrupts him. (5 times Steve tries to kiss you for the first time, and the one time he finally got to.) (wc: 2,165)

warnings: brief mentions steve's bad parents. brief mention of a toddler throwing up. I think thats it!!

1.

You and Steve had been dating for a little over a month when he decided tonight was the night he was going to kiss you. After you agree, of course. He never wanted to pressure you into doing things you weren’t ready for. He would wait a year, longer even, to kiss you if you so much as asked. But, he knew that tonight was the night.

He had taken you to the movie theaters that night to watch “Pretty in Pink,” and everything had gone perfectly. The theater was practically empty, he got to have his arm around your shoulder the entire night, and your hands brushed as you both reached for popcorn at the same time. Repeatedly. In his mind, nothing could have made the night better. That is until he drove you home later that night. 

After the movie had ended, he parked in your driveway, and the two of you got to talking. He noticed the slight nervous stutter you let out when he brushed a strand of hair out of your face and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered as you whispered back a “yes.” And as he held your chin and leaned forward, the porch light in front of your house turned on. He sighed, almost immediately letting go of your chin, putting some space between the two of you as you both let out a nervous laugh. 

“Guess you should head inside, huh?” He asked, nodding his head to your house. 

“Guess so,” you replied with a sheepish smile, quickly kissing his cheek before exiting the car. “Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered as you walked to your front door. Though, Steve was too giddy to notice. A stupid smile plastered on his face from the kiss on his cheek. It may not be what he was aiming for, but hey, he’ll take what he can get. 

***

2.

The following day, you had paid Steve a visit during his lunch break at his job at Family Video, as you usually did. 

“Why do you never let me pay for the rentals?” You asked with a smile as he scanned a VHS copy of "Top Gun," the first one to come in stock since it arrived at the Video Store. 

“Because you’re my girlfriend, and it’s only fair that you get to use my discount too,” he replies, smiling back at you as he snuck a few of your favorite chocolates into a bag for you. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he says with a wink. 

“Whatever can I do to make it up to you?” You ask, rolling your eyes at him with a smile. 

A kiss. If you want, he thinks. “Well, your company’s a great start,” he says while leaning over the counter, face nowcloser to yours. “I love it when you visit me, even if you end up putting me to work cause of your movie requests,” he says in faux annoyance, smiling at your laughter. 

And just as he was about to ask if he could kiss you, Robin came running out of the break room. 

“Steve, there’s a really gross bug in the break room, and I’d really appreciate it if you killed it,” she says, eyes wide with a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve replies, dropping his head and walking off to the break room. But not before giving your shoulder a quick squeeze and an apologetic smile. 

“Thanks a lot, Robin,” he says after killing the bug the girl was too scared to do herself. 

“You’re gonna see her later anyways,” she replies, laughing at his huff of annoyance. 

“I was this close to kissing her,” he replies, leaning on the wall and raising his hand to show a small gap between his thumb and index finger. 

“Isn’t this the second time?” Robin asks with a laugh as Steve huffs again, already moving to leave the break room. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he replies with a small smile. "Third times the charm though, right?" 

***

3.

It was one of the few times Steve’s parents were home. And, though he wanted nothing more than to be out of the house, whether at your place, the movies, hell, he’d even go to work today if it meant he didn’t have to be here, his parents wanted him to spend the day at home. In order to “spend some time together.” Even though they've barely spoken to him the whole day. 

So, you had come over to spend some time with him, which he had greatly appreciated. Though the two of you hadn’t exactly been doing anything too exciting, you were on his bed reading a book and he was flipping through a Batman comic Dustin had forced him to read, on the other side of the bed, he was still glad to be in your company. 

“You know, I really don’t get why the kids are so obsessed with a bunch of guys in spandex,” Steve said, breaking the comfortable silence between you two as he tossed the comic to the floor. 

“I think that Spider-Man's pretty neat,” you reply, setting your book on his nightstand as he moved to lie next to you.

“I’m way better than some spider guy,” Steve said, smiling at the way your face lit up when you laughed. He couldn’thelp but brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“Would it be alright if-“ he whispered before being interrupted by an over-exaggerated scream. 

“My eyes!” Dustin yells, covering his eyes with his hands as Steve lets out a long groan. 

“How did you get in my house, Henderson?” Steve asks, reluctantly letting go of your face, turning his attention to Dustin to fix him with an annoyed glare. 

“Your mom let me in. Is it safe to look?” Dustin asked, still covering his eyes. 

“We weren’t doing anything,” you reply at the same time Steve mumbles “kid needs his ego checked. Can't even knock on a fucking door.”

“Hey, why’s my comic on the floor?” Dustin asks, finally removing his hands from his eyes, moving to pick up the discarded comic. 

“It was boring,” Steve replies with a shrug. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted a ride to the arcade,” the younger boy simply replied.

“How’d you get here?” Steve asks with a sigh, glancing at you to see if you would be okay with the two of you making a trip to the arcade.

“I biked.”

“You couldn’t bike over there?” 

“Your house is closer.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh as you squeeze his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he whispers to you with a smile, before returning his gaze to Dustin.  “Alright, alright, I’ll take you to the stupid arcade.” Dustin was already walking out of Steve’s room before Steve could even finish his sentence.

***

4.

You had decided to join Steve and Dustin as they made their way to the arcade, as you had nothing else to do for the day. And what better way to spend it than with your boyfriend? 

“I’m sorry we had to spend our day here,” Steve told you, leaning against one of the games as you played Pac-Man.

“It’s fine,” you shrug with a smile. “I haven’t been here in forever, so I guess it’s nice to come and revisit it.”

“I’m gonna try and win you something from that claw machine,” Steve suddenly announces as you lose your last life in the game. 

“You don’t have to-“ you start before he wraps an arm around your shoulder, already pulling you to the machine. 

“Oh, but I want to, baby,” he says, nodding his head to the stuffed animals. “Which is your favorite?” He asks, smiling as you choose your pick. 

About $4 later, he had finally won you a teddy bear, squeezing your shoulder as he asked “what are you gonna name it?”

“Mr. Snuffles, obviously,” you reply in a faux serious tone, smile as bright as can be. 

“Hey, Mr. Snuffles,” he replies, putting a hand out to shake the bear’s paw. 

“You’re an idiot,” you tease with a smile. 

“I’m your idiot,” he replies, lightly poking your cheek. And just as he was about to make his move and ask if he could kiss you, a toddler a few feet away from the two of you threw up, effectively killing the mood. 

“Great,” Steve muttered under his breath, putting an arm around your waist and pulling you away from the crying toddler and his mom. “Let’s look for Dustin so we can take him home,” he says. 

Two failed kiss attempts in one day? That had to be some sort of world record. And of course, Steve had to be the one to break it. 

***

5.

Steve had decided to pay you a visit at your job at the record store during his break. He had brought you some popcorn from Family Video, which, conveniently enough, was just a block away from your job. Which meant the two of you frequently visited each other on your breaks. 

As “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper played through the speakers, Steve glanced around the empty store before an idea hit him. He quickly took your hands in his, raising them to be wrapped around his neck, then settling his own hands on your waist. 

“What are you doing?” You asked with a laugh as he began to sway the two of you.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing with you.” He replied.

“Okay, well, why?” You ask, smiling at him. He just shrugs, continuing to dance with you. 

“Because I can,” he teases, smiling back at you. 

“This is nice,” you whisper after a few moments of silence as he moves one hand to cup your face. 

“Can I-“ he whispers, before being interrupted by the bell above the door ringing, indicating someone has entered the store. Reluctantly, you both let go, moving away from each other so you wouldn’t get written up for PDA on company time. 

Maybe another day, he thought. 

***

+1

Steve was starting to believe he may never get to kiss you. After so many interruptions, he was beginning to believe the world was playing some kind of cruel trick on him. One that resulted in him losing his goddamn mind because he couldn’t kiss his pretty girlfriend. 

But tonight, he had a plan. One that would ensure he wouldn’t get interrupted before he got to kiss you. No parents, no friends, no customers, and no throwing-up toddlers to interrupt. 

“Wow, you’re really taking me to your old hook-up spot?” You ask teasingly as Steve rolls his eyes. Yes, he was taking you to Lover’s Lake, but not with the intention of hooking up.

“I’m taking you to see the stars,” he replies, smiling at your brief look of shock. “I heard you telling Robin how much you love the stars, so I thought, why not take my beautiful girlfriend to go look at them?” 

“That’s really sweet,” you whisper as he puts the car in park. 

“That’s my middle name,” he replies with a wink. “Steve Sweet Harrington.” 

“I thought it was Joseph,” you reply, smiling as he rolls his eyes. He walks around the car, opening the passenger side door and putting a hand out for yours to help you out of the car. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replies, closing the door, and retrieving blankets from the back seat to lay on the grass. “Just make yourself comfortable, babe.” 

“I read a book,” he starts, arm around your shoulder as you both sit on the grass, looking up at the starry night sky. “And that right there,” he points to a cluster of stars, “is called Orion.”

“You read a book about stars?” You ask, looking at him with a smile. 

“Wanted to seem smart in front of you,” he replied with a shrug, as if reading a book to impress you was no big deal. 

“That’s so sweet,” you quietly reply, repeating your earlier sentiment. 

“I told you it was my middle name,” he teases, lightly nudging your shoulder with his. 

“I’m starting to think it actually might be,” you reply, still smiling at him. You looked so pretty under the stars. 

“Can I kiss you?” He quietly asks, as your smile somehow grows even more.

“Yeah,” you whisper back as he cups the side of your face, before leaning in to finally kiss you. 

“I’ve been waiting forever to do that,” he half-jokes, smiling at your laughter. 

“I kind of figured,” you reply with a shrug as he rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“I’m not that obvious,” he says with a faux scowl that quickly melts away when you move to kiss him again.

Steve couldn’t help but punch a fist in the air at the fact that he finally got to kiss you. And he couldn’t wait to do it over and over again. 

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?