#And sit down to a stack of pancakes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beiibeiii · 1 month

Text

theres no one left to blame but me

husband!arlecchino x wife!reader wlw smut

a long awaited and requested continuation / part 2 of cold nights !

tw : fluff/comfort, soft-ish arle, happy ending :), she apologies, rushed smut near the end, service top-ish arle, arle has a cock, angsty near the start, little bit of crying out of relief?, icl there is so much filler, not proof read, sorry this took ages to post sob

art creds : nuiilar on twt

6.3k words

the morning after, your eyelids flutter open. the sunlight was peeking through the curtains, onto the white bedsheets. you feel disoriented and completely out of it. you found yourself in a warm, comfortable bed. a contrast to where you remember you rested last night. you found yourself in your shared room.. except, it hadn't really been shared at all lately. as memories of last night start to cloud your mind, you immediately sit up and turn to your right.

to your disappointment, the other side of the bed was empty.. as usual. you feel like a fool for getting your hopes up. the fact she was too prideful enough to show her face to you, made your already existing pit of emptiness dig deeper into you heart. or so thats what you thought.

perhaps it was because you had drained most of your sorrows out last night.

with an exhausted sigh you ran a hand through your hair as your head lowered to idly stare down at the covers. the bedsheets were intoxicated with arlecchino's sickening cologne, even though she hadn't even been here in a while. her cologne made your head spin. you furrow your eyebrows as you sat in the dark room. your eyes glance at the clock on the bedside table. it was 6:17am. arlecchino would of left around an hour ago already..

shame, she didn't even leave a note or anything to apologise.

you don't feel like doing anything today. you just wanted to stay in bed and drown yourself in your worries for the whole day. you feel your lips curl into a frown knowing you will probably have to continue the day alone again. you force yourself off the cozy bed. your legs feel shaky.. you feel light headed as your vision blurs into momentary darkness as you stood up. god, had she really affected you that much? .

you lightly swing the door open and hazily walk into the long hallway. the hallway seemed to stretch on far more than you recalled it to. your eyes glaze over memorable photos of you and arlecchino etched onto the wall. golden frames bordering the beautiful person arlecchino used to be. you pass down the gallery of these, now, lost memories, the connection of these precious memories you used to hold so close to your heart, now feels like a lost, distant dream you yearn for.

you felt nauseous as reality dawns upon you. the truth weighing down into your already crushed heart. the memories flooding into you all at once did no good for you. each photo carried a different, loving memory from when arlecchino was genuinely.. peruere.

your head ached from the overload of contrasting feelings. the passion she once invested in you had vanished along with her love for you, it seemed. the flames she bares that once ignited your vulnerable heart, is forever extinguished. the arlecchino you once knew and loved, had faded into the chambers of her own cold, restricted heart. you couldn’t recognise her anymore.

you lazily dragged yourself down the stairs to avoid any signs of her. as you do, you could smell pancakes being cooked in the kitchen. you assume it's just another house maid. you tiredly walk in with your head lowered, not bothering to look up to see who it was, as you had already, mentally, came up with your final verdict.

you sit in the dining room, just passing kitchen and whoever was in there. you were too clouded to even bother figuring out who it was. you rest your elbow on the table and your chin in your palm. your eyes casted down on the table. suddenly, a small stack of pancakes with no toppings on them whatsoever was slid in front of you. you knew exactly who it was.

arlecchino's gaze rolled over your face as she slid you the plate. her eyes narrowed, they were still as cold as ever. she knew you clearly hadn't had a good night of sleep. your expression was weary and your face puffy. a sharp pang of remorse took ahold of her once more. she couldn't bare to see the sight of you, completely drained of all happiness, because of her. she knew she couldn't drag this on any longer.

she gently place the silverware on the side of the plate. you noticed the gleam of her ring shining under light for a moment. your eyebrows furrow slightly. she wore the ring you brought her. it gave you a slight sense of relief. yet you still don't dare to look at her face. not yet at least.

"good morning, my dear." her voice echoed slightly through the dining room.

you purse your lips at her words. you can't bring yourself to say 'good morning' back. if it were a good morning, then you would probably still be in bed in her arms. your gaze doesn't wander away from the pancakes in front of you. you feel as she pulls away from behind you to take a seat in front of you with her own plate of pancakes. arlecchino subtly glances at you before taking a bite of her warm, plain pancakes. the silence was deafening. it only raised the tension in the air. deciding to break the ice, she spoke again. her expression was neutral.

"i made pancakes.." she mused once more, as if she wasn't stating the obvious. she really didn't know how to initiate a conversation with you. especially after last night.

you could tell in her voice she was trying hard. you felt your heart pick it's self up at the thought of her attempt to make breakfast and start a conversation. you didn't want to keep being mad at her. hell, you weren't even supposed to be mad at her to begin with. you decided to nod after a long pause of silence. picking up your utensils to start eating the plain pancakes.

despite all of that, you still didn't have the courage to look her in the face.

before you knew it, you both had already finished eating. you didn't want to admit it but you missed her cooking. even if it was plain and tasteless. you both hadn't exchanged a word once. arlecchino couldn't take it anymore. she didn't want to see this distraught look on your face any longer. she leans over the table, her hand firmly, yet so gently, lifting your chin up.

"please, look at me. i cannot stand seeing you like this.." your breath hitches quietly at her sudden action. her words have a hint of softness and desperation in them. her gaze is as firm yet as gentle as her touch. your eyes gaze into her crossed pupils. you find yourself lost in her iris. mesmerising you.

"arle.." you utter quietly under your breath.

"let me make it up to you." she almost pleads. her eyebrows are furrowed, taking in all of your beautiful features. she had to admit, it had been a while since she last saw you properly and so close like this. you feel your throat tighten, her words tugging at your heart strings.

you don't know whether to trust her words anymore. especially after she had been hanging around that new fatui recruit recently. her hand falls from your chin yet your head still stays up to look at her. her rough, blackened hands hold your soft ones. firmly giving it a little squeeze.

"i was wrong. let me take you out to dinner tonight. i promise, i will discard any worries you have." her voice wasn't soft, but nor was it cold. you knew she was never good with expressing her emotions. you feel weary of her proposal. the cool ring you had brought for her was against your hand. the gentle look in her eyes make you give into her pleads. you hesitantly replied after a moment of contemplation.

"okay. i.. will let you take me out for dinner." you reply quietly. your gaze lowering in slight embarrassment. now you really couldn't back out of this. she nods as she hums in response. getting out of her seat to carefully pull you out of your seat. embracing your body in her warm arms, pushing your head against her chest. the smell of her cologne was more prominent than ever.

you felt relief course through your body. the scene of her no longer sickened you. your hands cling onto the t-shirt she's wearing, squeezing the fabric as you feel tears starting to be forced out of your eyes again. her hands reassuringly stroke your hair, her fingertips getting lost in each strand.

"i apologise, my dear. i was wrong." she whispers softly yet hesitantly. all tension that was in the air had disappeared. arlecchino doesn't know if she's comforting you correctly. the feeling just felt so foreign to her. in all honesty, it hurt her to see you like this. she wanted to take your pain away from you. she lets you cry it out in her chest. whispering sweet things every so often. constantly alternating between tangling her fingers in your hair and rubbing comforting circles on your back.

she just hoped her actions were able to get her message, that she cares about you, across to you more than her words are.

soon, the evening came around a lot quicker than you had expected. it had been a while since you've had to doll yourself up to look good for arlecchino. you enjoyed having an excuse to dress up every so often. you decided to put on a elegant white dress and heels on for tonight, hoping to take that stupid, nee fatui recruit off her mind.

arlecchino was already outside, waiting for you as she leaned against her expensive, sleek car. she had dressed up in a elegant suit with small chains in between the buttons. she had a crimson red waistcoat and of course her ridiculous heels. in her arms was a beautiful bouquet of roses. she was mentally hoping she was doing everything right, that she wouldn't say or do anything wrong.

not soon after, as you leave your residence, you are greeted by arlecchino. your breath hitches the second you laid eyes on her, she looked so handsome.. the way she was fiddling around with the roses just to make sure they're perfect. the way she leans against the car. every little thing about her was so captivating. at last, you see her look up at you, slowly walking towards you with that confident stride. god you were absolutely ravishing. she leans down slightly and takes your hand. her rough hand firmly brings your contrasting one to her soft lips, placing a gentle kiss on it. she gazes up at you through her eyelashes. you feel heat rush to your cheeks immediately.

"you look stunning my dear. here, roses, for you." she muses against your hand, keeping her voice even. fuck. you looked so pretty, all dolled up just for her. you feel her light breath against your knuckles before she pulls away, standing back up straight. towering over you as she hands you the perfect bouquet of roses you've ever seen. carefully you take them out of her hands, smiling lightly as you inhaled the floral smell.

it was as if time slowed down. a gentle breeze of the evening air brushed across your faces. arlecchino's lips parted as her gaze softened ever so slightly. she feels all signs of doubt leave her body. the tips of her ears were heating up at your gorgeous smile, no matter how much she tried to hold it back. thankfully for her, her ears were covered by her hair. she hadn't seen your beautiful smile for so long. it wasn't until now she had realised how much she had missed it.

"thank you. you look so beautiful too arle.." you smiled softly. you felt as if you could forgive her already. you hugged the roses carefully in your arms. they smelt good. you noticed how the corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly. how her gaze had also softened. you hadn't seen that look in a while. arlecchino, on the other hand, felt warmth she hadn't felt in a while, bubble up within her chest. deep inside, she felt like a giddy teenager falling for you for the first time all over again. she quickly pulls herself together, clearing her throat.

"come on, we wouldn't want to be late, would we?" she states, wrapping a arm around you waist, walking you to her expensive car. she opens the door for you graciously, urging you to get in first.

you mumbled a small "thank you" to which she replies with a nod. you blush softly at the small yet thoughtful action. she was so.. gentlemanly. arlecchino had such a charming personality, it was drawing you in. you hear as she closes the door on you and makes her way to the drivers seat. the seats were luxurious, made of dark red leather.

her beautiful hands made their way to the steering wheel. the engine roared as it pulled out of the driveway. her attention constantly, yet subtly divided between the road and you. she couldn't help but steal glances towards you from time to time. you looked utterly gorgeous tonight. her predatory gaze would always wander to your beautiful legs, perfectly exposed when you're wearing a dress. before immediately sticking to the road. no. she couldn't be thinking of such things. she had to properly make it up to you first.

the car ride in general was quiet. it was a comforting yet pleasant silence. you didn't mind it. you looked out the window, watching the city go past you. the shadows of tall skyscrapers and light, emitting from lit up buildings, towering over the city, flicker onto the car. giving it a beautifully shadowed hue.

it wasn't soon before arlecchino drove into a car park of an expensive looking restaurant. it was one you knew people waited over months just to get an reservation. the car comes to an stop. arlecchino gives you a soft glance before she got out of the car. walking over to open the door for you. her hand extended out to you with a gentle yet firm gaze. you smile softly as you take her hand. getting out the car. she keeps her hand in yours, leading you into the luxurious restaurant.

as arlecchino led you into the restaurant, she noticed the going quieter than it was before. everyone there looking at the two of you. numerous whispers and glances were spilling around the groups of people. you could tell that they were looking at you, of course. you looked beautiful in your dress, you were like eye candy. most people also recognised arlecchino, the knave. wondering why she was here with such a pretty girl.

arlecchino didn't bother to act polite in front of other people. she gave the patrons a cold, vicious glare as they looked in your direction. she didn't like it. she didn't like how everyone's eyes were all on you. you were hers and she was yours. arlecchino could almost feel the anxiousness imploding your mind currently. her arm wrapping around your waist firmly once more. pulling you in closer to her, as if telling everyone who you belonged to.

"just ignore them. they don't matter." she mumbles lowly into your ear, as if trying to reassure you. you let a quiet breath, you didn't know you were holding, out at her words. you stop tensing up and relax as you feel her hands squeeze your waist subtly.

as the gazes of the other patrons disperse, arlecchino makes her high status known, just by an glance from the waiters. the restaurant's staff instantly catered to her high status, treating her with upmost respect and almost fear. you two are instantly escorted to the table. it was next to a breathtaking view of the sunset. as the sun's rays fell upon your skin, it accentuated your beauty, making your face glow. arlecchino could not pull her eyes off of you. she was absolutely captivated by you. you were absolutely gorgeous..

as the two of you settle into your seats, menu's are handed out as the waiter leaves you for some time alone. arlecchino glazes over the menu. carefully reading over everything. in her mind, she hopes this dinner will be able to clear most things up. her eyes glanced up at you, who was also reading the menu. she was determined to make this dinner meaningful and memorable for you. she wanted to make up to you. no, she had to.

"order anything you fancy, my dear." arlecchino said before taking a glance back at the menu.

"alright.. thank you, arle." your lips curl in a light smile. eventually the two of you ordered drinks and food. arlecchino ordering a steak tartare and you just a steak yourself. the two of you ordered red wine. arlecchino made sure to watch your alcohol intake. arlecchino could always handle her alcohol really well, but you, on the other hand, was quite a light drinker. she didn't want you to get wasted.

she lifts her glass of wine. "cheers?" she pushes her glass towards you.

"cheers!" you laugh out softly at her slight awkwardness. your glasses made a small clink. you see the small, reassured smile on her face as you both take a sip. you feel the expensive liquid burn your throat. arlecchino watched as you downed your wine with a smile. she could tell that the alcohol was already starting to ease you up. that's good. it only meant you're enjoying yourself and she has fewer chances to mess things up.

"wow.. it's really good." you muse, your gaze relaxed. there seemed to not be as much tension as before. when she noticed your gaze relaxed, she took it as a sign that things were turning out alright. arlecchino was relieved.

"of course, only the best for you, my love." she murmurs back. her voice has a softer edge to it now. her hand reaching over to yours. placing it on top of your hand lovingly. you feel your gaze soften more in awe at her affection. it had been a while since she had treated you so well like this.

she lowers her gaze momentarily. her lips parting before closing back up again. god she didn't know how to start. she had to stop avoiding her thoughts and apologise already.

"i.. apologise again, for my actions lately." she stammers out suddenly. she looks at you right in the eyes as she says this. you know she was being sincere.

"i shouldn't of forgotten such an important date like our anniversary and neglected you for such a long period of time." she pauses momentarily. her eyebrows furrowing as she pulls her thoughts together. trying to get the sting of words bundled up in her throat right out. the sight of your crying again broke her heart. she never wanted to see you cry, because of her ever again. her hand squeezes yours subtly.

"moreover, that fatui recruit.. she means nothing to me. i mean it. you deserve nothing but pure happiness. and i promise, i will do everything, and anything for you because i love you. more than i can ever explain." her words are firm and gentle. you feel your heart warm up at her words. you knew she never liked to speak up, she was prideful and was never good with her words. you couldn't be angry at her any longer.

"arle.. just.. promise you won't do it again." you reply softly. your eyebrows furrowed still, in slight uneasiness until she confirms it herself. her words were most definitely touching your heart. her words were so genuine.

she brings your hand up to her face. your hand cupping the side of her cheek lightly. "i swear on the tsarita's name, my love." she replies with an gentle tone. her eyes were glazing into yours. arlecchino knew that she was practically begging for forgiveness right now, and she hated it. buy she wants your forgiveness, she needs your forgiveness. seeing you so upset, hurts her more than anything.

your breath hitches at her sudden gesture. her face was so warm, her skin milky soft. god she was breathtaking right now.

"i.. forgive you, arle." you breathe out. you feel all tension leave your body. you can feel your own heart beating again. thumping hard against your chest. you feel like you've fallen in love with her for the first time all over again.

"thank you, my love. i don't deserve you." she whispers softly against your palm. her body visibly relaxes. she feels her heart flutter in her chest. her ears heating up again. she hadn't fucked everything over in the end. she was so afraid of losing you after that night. she can never let things get that bad ever again.

unfortunately for the both of you, your intimate moment was cut short when a waiter arrived with your meal, much to arlecchino's annoyance. shame.. arlecchino wanted to bask in your forgiveness and sweet words just a little longer. you pulled your hand away, feeling embarrassed that the waiter had seen how close you were with her. you hoped you hadn't made arlecchino seem soft. not that she actually minded it.

your eyes widened in awe at the food placed onto the wooden table. it looked absolutely delicious. it smelt amazing. it was of high quality and was luxurious. the harbinger couldn't help but feel a slight irritation that your tender and heartfelt moment was ruined. she would much rather be lost in your eyes and touch right now. but she couldn't stay mad, especially when she saw the adorable look on your face.

once you thanked the waiter with a sweet smile and arlecchino with a stoic nod, they left. as we picked up the utensils, arlecchino glanced at me once more.

"i hope the meal is up to your standards, my dear."

and oh god it was. the rich flavours of the steak was literally melting on your tongue. taking sips of alcohol in between. the two of you had a nice conversation. you hadn't had that in a while. it felt like you were catching up on her life despite living together.t wasn't soon before you were finished with your meal. arlecchino would just nod, setting the napkin down saying something along the lines of "not bad. would be better without these.. complex seasonings."

it wasn't long before found yourself inebriated with alcohol despite how much arlecchino limited your alcohol intake. your cheeks were slightly flushed red. your eyes half lidded with that small pouty look on your face. your words would slur and you would sway side to side in your seat. trying, what seemed to be your best, to sit up straight in your seat. you would babble on about random topics.

arlecchino watched you quickly fall under the influence. sighing out with a small smile. completely adoring your drunken self. what an 'handful' for arlecchino to deal with..

arlecchino practically dragged you out your seat and into her arms. helping your drunken self stumble out the restaurant. her hand was on your waist firmly as she helped you into the car. everything was a blur. your mind was clouded and you felt all floaty. by the time you both reached the front door, you were already heavily leaning on her, having trouble walking straight alone. arlecchino helped you to the bed. your felt your body lightly laid you down onto the soft covers of the bed.

you were mumbling and giggling, completely drunk. she found you absolutely endearing in this state. she smiled faintly as she pushed some strands of hair out your face. god you looked heavenly right now. your silky hair was sprawled out on the bed. your lips were slightly parted with your head tilted to the side a little. your half lidded eyes gazing drunkly into her sober ones. the red streak of blush across your face only accentuated your drunkness.

"come on, let's get you to bed-" she mumbles before getting cut off by you tugging her down by her collar. your faces so close together. arlecchino's breath hitches at your sudden action and the sudden closeness.

"arle.. wan' you.. to apologise in.. another way.." you slur out quietly. your eyebrows furrowing. you are completely out of it. you sloppily lift your hips to lightly and not to subtly grind on hers.

oh.. she gets the hint. she feels her ears and cheeks heat up some more now. she feels her dick harden in her pants. she feels so.. tight and restricted. the air was so hot in here. one of her hands find their way to the side of your hips and lightly push them down. trying to be reasonable with your drunken self.

"dear, your drunk, you need to sleep-" arlecchino is cut off once more when you pull her head down to smash her lips on yours. arlecchino groans against your hips. she knows you want this and now she does too. her tongue enters your mouth as you let out a small muffled moan, your eyes fluttering closed. her lips were so soft. her lips made you feel more dizzier than you already were. her hands run down your back, feeling the smooth fabric of your dress underneath her fingertips. she reaches up to the zipper and pulls it down with sudden urgency.

she pulls her lips away, leaving you both breathless. she doesn't waste another second, tugging the dress off of you. her eyes roam all over your body hungrily. your eyelashes flutter open. in your hazy vision you see arlecchino drinking in the sight of you in your lace undergarments. her self-control snapping at the sight of that lace on your body

"all this for me? such a eager girl.." she smirks. you feel heat rush up to your core. you subtly rub your thighs with a whine. needing her so badly right now.

"tell me what you want sweet girl.. i'm all yours tonight.." she mumbles lowly into your ear.

"need you.. now.. pleaseeee.." you huff out. she could feel the heat pooling between her legs as you huff out those words. you looked so beautiful and sensual begging for her, it was driving her crazy. she knows she should be nice to you today, so she gives you want you want. she dips down to your neck, hungrily biting down and sucking sweetly on your neck. eliciting light moans from your throat. she leaves a trail of light red marks down your neck. losing the last bit of restraint she had.

her fingers carefully unclasp your bra. her hands moving swiftly to slide the lace off of you in anticipation. your tittys were hard, just for her. you shiver slightly at the coldness. arlecchino sucks in a breath at the sight of your. undressing herself quickly and leaving herself in her boxers. you could see the massive buldge ready to get out of the confides of her boxers. her abs were more prominent in the dark lighting. god she was so hot.

"so beautiful.." arlecchino's tone of voice is throaty and quiet. she leans in and wraps her lips around your nipple. you let out a quiet breath, moaning sweetly. your body was so sensitive from alcohol. arlecchino's actions barely registering in your mushy mind.

her other hand pinches and rolls and pulls on your other nipple in between her fingers. making the pleasure so much higher. she sucks on your nipple sweetly, relishing your moans before pulling away. her hand slowly slides down your body, her touch tracing a trail of fire on your skin. she can feel your body shiver slightly under her touch, becoming more desperate every second.

her hand dips down to your clothed cunt. you were absolutely soaked for her. she rubs her thumb on where your clit is. making your hips spasm and lean into her. your eyes fluttering closed as she forces a hoarse moan from you.

"stop.. eat me.. out already.." you whine out desperately. she smirks, complying with your needs and pulls your spoiled underwear aside. her hands hold your thighs and open them. keeping them open firmly as her long, wet muscle gives a long lick to your wet hole so.. slowly. making you shiver against her. your thighs wanting to close around her head.

"stop.. teasing.." you whine out drunkly. your hand finds their way to her head as you push her head into your cunt. you feel her lips curl up as her tongue enter your warm walls. she feels your walls spasms around her tongue. making her groan into your cunt. an vibrating hit your pussy as you throw you head back in pleasure.

"f-faster arle.." you huff out, your word slurring, in pleasure. your grip on her hair is weak in your sensitive drunk state. her nose nudges against your clit so perfectly.

she picks up the pace, devouring your pussy with her mouth. her tongue pumping in and out of your tight hole. making loud slurping noises and you push her head unto your pussy more.

"n..ngh.. more..!" you pant out, your breath shaky, rolling your hips into her mouth more. arlecchino obeys, shoving her face deeper into you. her nose buried into your folds as she sucks and eats your cunt. her hands move from your thighs to your folds and lightly pull them apart. giving her better access to your dripping hole. your thighs squeeze against her head in desperation. arlecchino groans at the feeling, against your wet cunt as she grinds her cock into the bed. fuck she so was desperate but your needs came first.

you pornagraphic moans only fuel her drive more. the way you tugged on her hair closer to you, only turned up the intensity of your pleasure more. you feel like your on cloud nine right now, feeling that coil in your stomach form. "close..!" you'd pant out, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"go on then, pretty girl.." arlecchino's lip curl up into a smile against your pussy. you let out a high pitched moan, smashing her face into your cunt and your thighs squeeze her head as your orgasm washes over you. arlecchino felt your pussy clenching around her tongue and trembling against her mouth, your cum gushing out in streams. she groans at the cum all over her face, lapping it right up before pulling away with a string of saliva on her tongue. her chin absolutely dripping in your release.

she has a light smirk on her face, clearly pleased with your orgasm, as she wipes your release on her arm. you feel all light headed after you came, the alcohol influencing you for more. arlecchino pulled her boxers down, her massive cock springing out and slapping against her stomach. fuck, she was absolutely leaking with pre-cum. you looked at her cock in awe. arlecchino kisses you sweetly, you could taste yourself on her tongue. her erection was hard, poking right into your thigh.

she pulls away, gently pushing a strand of hair in your face out the way. gazing into your half lidded eyes.

"i'll go slow.. tell me how you'd like it, okay?" she mumbles softly. you nod, letting out a small hum of agreement.

"theres my girl.." she trails off, holding her cock in her hand as she rubs it all over your wet slit. smearing your wet juices all over her, coating her cock in your cum. your pussy twitches at her rubbing her cock all over you. she peppers sweet kisses on your forehead as she starts to push her hard cock into your tight little hole slowly. her thick cock spreads your walls apart, sinking deeper into your soaked cunt. she groans, "come on.. relax.." feeling your walls flutter around her at the intrusion, clenching down on her.

you let out little mewls. she was just so.. big. you felt stuffed to the brim. your eyes flutter shut as her thumb comes in contact with your clit. rubbing your little bundle of nerves to loosen your cunt up. your walls spasm against her length as she rubs on your clit. immediately loosening yourself up as she pushes the rest in, lightly in one fluid motion. you felt your vision turn white for a second as your hips snapped together. arlecchino lets out a deep growl at how your gummy walls pulse around her. you felt her cock spear your pussy, pressing right up to your cervix. you were so stretched out by her.

you find yourself trying to catch your breath as arlecchino whispers sweet things to you. telling you how good you are for her and how well your doing. she allows you to adjust to her massive size for as long as long as you need to. after a short while, you give her a small nod as you start to get used to her girth.

"i'm going to move now, alright?" she mumbles lowly yet sweetly, her hands holding your hips firmly as she pulls back. her hips part from yours before she slowly rocks her hips. thrusting in and out of your warm walls. you let out a shaky breath at her size and how she hit the right spots so effortlessly. she growls, it took everything to hold back her urge to just throw your legs over her shoulder and pound you to oblivion. god she was so compliant, taking you slowly, just as she promised, just like the good husband she wants to be.

her pace picks up to a bearable one. her fat cock brushes your cervix so easily, the sounds of her grunts and the sound of skin slapping sounded so good. your eyebrows furrow in pleasure when she hits your good spot, she notices this, continuously pumping her cock into it. arlecchino starts to lose her restraint, her hands on your hips tighten as her pace picks up some more. her breath starts getting ragged. the room smelled like sex, your drunken self already had your brains fucked out. she starts thrusting with more fervour, the intense slapping of skin was heard. your walls spasm around her fat cock at the filthy sounds.

you get breathless, arlecchino elicit high pitcher moans from your throat. her relentless pace too much for your drunken self to handle. after some struggle, your arms find their way to her back. your hands grip onto her back, your nails scratching into her back leaving red scratches into her toner back. she grunts at the stinging sensation, turning her on.

"slow.. ngh.. down arle..!" you whine out. your vision starts to cloud in darkness momentarily. she looks up at your pleasured face through her eyelashes and her rough, ruthless pace was now at an slower, loving pace. her grip on your hips loosen. arlecchino knows your close from how your walls are so beautifully squeezing her.

"come on, come with me pretty girl.." she groans out in pleasure. as you feel your orgasm wash over, arlecchino pushes herself to the hilt, cumming deep inside of you. you hold her tight, letting out a erotic moan. you was sure enough it was loud enough for the rest of the house maid's finishing up to hear. arlecchino watched as your stomach, full of your mixed cum, bloats. she pumps a few more strokes into you with intentions of fucking her cum straight into your womb.

"so good for me.." she mumbles, kissing your lips gently. you let out small muffled mewls, before she pulls out, pulling away as your your cum is oozing out your pussy. god, what a pretty sight it was. you feel dazed, panting and catching your breath, as you stare up into the ceiling on the brink of passing out from pleasure and the alcohol.

arlecchino helps clean yourselves up, changing the sheets before pulling you into her warm embrace. your head was buried in her neck, your bare bodies pressed against each other. it felt nice, you hadn't felt like this in a while. you found yourself not thinking about anything else, too drunk and blissed out to do so. only barely listening to her praises and the feeling of her peppering kissed on your face and drawing circles on your back. it was easier to fall asleep with her by your side.

"did so well for me hm?" she mumbles lowly with a light smile. arlecchino missed this warmth and the intimacy you two used shared frequently. she watches as you fall asleep in her arms cozily. watching your face in the pure bliss of sleep. usually, on any other day, you would find yourself awake the next morning, alone on a cold bed. but not tonight, or any other night from today forwards, for she will be by your side, embracing your body. the next morning, you will find her hugging you, waking up with you, like a loving husband she wants to be. she promises to treat you so well, with everything she has.

you were to use her, command her and cast her aside. use her as your blade. for she, will always be yours.

these nights, were no longer classed as cold nights.

not anymore.

#bei works #bei randoms #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #arlecchino angst #arlecchino fluff #arlecchino #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin angst #genshin fluff #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino genshin impact #comfort #genshin wlw

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lumiambrose · 2 months

Note

Soft launch and hard launch with Rin Itoshi?

part two

rin itoshi only cares about football. everyone knows that. so who the hell is she?

the match was intense of course, rin gave it is all, putting in blood sweat and tears for the victory he’s spent his entire life dreaming of. the final whistle blows as the crowd erupted into cheers. he did it. finally. rin stood in the middle of the pitch, collecting himself while he comes down from his adrenaline-filled high, sweat dripping from his brow with only one thing in mind. his eyes scan the stands searching for a familiar face, the only face he wanted to see. there she was, face in awe as she cheered for him, his lucky charm, his ride or die. he felt a rare warmth in his chest, a moment of softness amidst the chaos of victory.

after the game, rin made his way through the crowded stadium in his makeshift disguise, his mind focused on finding you. it didn’t take long as he spotted you sitting on the bleachers, wearing his jersey, a proud smile on your face. he approached you, giving you a soft hug from behind while the noise of the crowd fades into the background.

"you made it," he said, his voice softer than usual.

you looked up at him, eyes shining with pride. "of course i did, i wouldn’t miss it for the world. you were amazing out there, rin."

he sat down beside you on the vacant seat, the adrenaline from the match still coursing through his veins. "it was all you sweetheart."

they sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the stadium slowly empty out. rin's mind wandered to the post-match routines he was usually so diligent about, but tonight felt different. all that mattered was savouring this precious moment with you

the night that followed was nothing but bliss. the two of you eventually packed up and went home together in his car, where he surprised you with a beautiful bouquet of roses he prepared for after the match.

arriving at your shared apartment, the rest of the night went faster than either of you expected. from the glass of wine you two shared together to slow dancing in the living room and plenty of intimate moments, you two ended the night sweetly in each other's arms.

the warm glow of the sun woke you up. you were covered in your silky bed sheets as you checked the clock, 8:37. while you felt lonely without your boyfriend's presence on the mattress next to you, you figured he was simply on his morning run.

you lazily helped yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, wanting to cook your partner a nice breakfast to celebrate his victory. although, to your surprise, you were greeted by that very partner preparing a stack of pancakes with freshly cut fruit.

you approached rin, who was in nothing but grey sweatpants, and gave him a soft kiss on the shoulder. “good morning baby.”

he leaned into your touch giving you a quick peck back as he continued the pancakes, ushering you to sit down while he cooked.

your phone has been buzzing quite a bit since you woke up. finally deciding to entertain whoever may be messaging you, you unlock your phone to find a plethora of messages from your friends. opening your chat with your best friend, you’re left with nothing but curiosity. “Y/N” 8:01

“CHECK INSTAGRAM ASAP” 8:01

“HE FINALLY DID IT” 8:02

after sending them a quick reply, you finally decide to see what all the chaos is about. and god, you we’re fucking shocked.

liked by itoshisae, bachiim and 1.2m others

itoshirin my lucky charm

honestly. you just sat there for a while, processing what happened. so after your brain starts to function again, you decide to interrogate the man in question.

“rinnie, what’s this?” you call him over with curiosity in your voice.

“hm?” he cocks a brow as he sets the breakfast aside and makes his way over to you.

you show him the upload and you see a slight smile on his lips. he says nothing as he simply leans in to take you into a deep kiss. albeit slightly taken aback, you lean into his lips, letting his actions speak louder than words.

after you pull back, you let out a soft laugh, “looks like you broke the internet, rinnie.” you joked as he sat you down on the couch for his home cooked breakfast.

the day then was spent scrolling through social media, reading everyone's theories about who rin itoshi’s mystery woman might be. some thought you were a childhood friend, others speculated you were a secret girlfriend from his hometown. the comments ranged from supportive to downright ridiculous. some even simping over you.

"do you regret it?" you asked. half jokingly referring to the more down bad comments.

he shook his head, his expression serious. "not at all. you’re mine and i wouldn’t want it any other way."

slightly surprised from the affectionate words leaving your strikers mouth, you leant against him and stroked his head, teasing him for his boldness. "you know, i never expected you to take initiative. look at you go"

he reciprocated your action with an arm around you, pulling you into his chest to hide the tips of his ears blushing a soft pink. "neither did i. but now that it is, i don't mind. as long as you're with me, i don't care what the world thinks."

you continued scrolling through the comments, finding amusement in the wild theories people came up with. despite the chaos, there was a sense of contentment between them. rin had always been focused on soccer, but in that moment, he realised that there was more to life than just that game.

"you really are my lucky charm," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your body. "and you’re my everything, rin."

an: i did not sleep last night for this and i don’t regret it. i didn’t proofread it so i’m so sorry for any mistakes but oh well 🫠

hard launch too orrr???

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cherry-leclerc · 5 months

Text

so long, london ☆ ln4

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

word count: 7.3k

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

nsfw warning under the cut!

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

inspired by this and this !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not, I love it.”

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

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

“You’re good at hiding it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

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

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

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

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

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

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

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

You shrug. “London—yes.”

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

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And make sure to floss!”

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

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

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

“What about you? Work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I say give it a year or two.”

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

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

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

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

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

“One day, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

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

“Try me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was perfect.

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

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

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

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Studies prove—”

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

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

Where are you going?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

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

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

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

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

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

Then back in.

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know—why would you?”

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

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

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

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

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

You’re broken hearted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my boy!”

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

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

Not you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

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

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

I tried to warn you.

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

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

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

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

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

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

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

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

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All right before bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

You’re just angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got my degree…”

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

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

He pauses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

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

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

Won’t they hear us fuck?

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

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

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

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

You make it clear everyday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

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suashii · 3 months

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— 𝒷𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 ౨ৎ

kuroo tetsuro x reader. 0.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ papa!kuroo ﾉ repost!

a/n: with father's day approaching, i'll be reposting some short dad-related hq drabbles — kuroo's up first! :3

one of the defining characteristics of a good weekend, at least to kuroo, is sleeping in. it isn’t often he gets to do it, having to rise with the sun to go into the office during the week. so he cherishes the two days he can squeeze in an extra hour of slumber. but a peculiar weight on his chest is making it a little difficult this morning.

with a sneaking suspicion as to what is obstructing his breathing, kuroo peaks open one eye to see if his assumption is correct. he’s met with the sight of his daughter sitting on his chest, hands tangled in his hair.

she’s been getting up earlier than usual lately. you and kuroo hardly ever have to rouse the little girl out of her sleep anymore. instead of seeing a snoozing toddler when you or kuroo open the door to her bedroom, your daughter is more likely to be found stacking blocks into a tower or playing with her dolls. so it isn't entirely a surprise to see that she’s out of her bed.

“well, good morning, princess,” kuroo says, loud enough for the girl to hear but quiet enough to keep from stirring your still body.

“g’morning, daddy,” she greets him, not turning away from her task. her tongue is stuck out in concentration as she rolls a section of his dark, messy hair between her tiny hands. carefully pulling away, she smiles as the piece of hair stands up and away from the rest. kuroo should have known showing her the little trick once for giggles would come back to bite him. it looks like he’ll be putting a little more effort into combing out the tangles today if that’s what she has been up to since she snuck into the bed.

“silly hair!” the girl exclaims, clapping her hands.

“will mom ever get to try this style?” kuroo asks, glancing over to your peacefully sleeping figure. lucky, he thinks to himself. though, he’s glad that your daughter’s excitement isn’t too much of a disturbance to you. after all, there’s no reason for both of you to be so early on the weekend.

“uh-uh,” she shakes her head, reaching for more of the raven strands.

“wait, wait.” kuroo gently lowers her hands in an attempt to keep the girl from turning his head into a bird’s nest—if she hasn’t already. “i think there’s something a little more fun that we can do.”

she stares at him with wide eyes full of curiosity and maybe a little doubt. what could be more fun than playing cosmetologist?

“how about you,” he boops the tip of her nose with his index finger, “help me make breakfast for mom?”

“hmm,” she considers with a thoughtful hum. it seems like kuroo’s suggestion of becoming a chef for the morning isn’t much of a rival to her current imaginary profession. by the looks of it, he has to sweeten the offer. fortunately, he has the perfect bargaining chip.

“we can make chocolate chip pancakes.” he tickles her belly with a smile.

her eyes light up in delight at the proposal of cooking her favorite meal. “okay!” she nods her head enthusiastically.

“alright,” he picks the girl up, seating her on the foot of the bed. he takes a deep breath before tossing the comforter to the side and making his way out of bed. kneeling down in front of the little one, he taps his shoulders. “hop on.”

she climbs on his back with no hesitation. “chocolate chip pancakes!” she whisper-shouts, wrapping her arms around kuroo’s neck.

kuroo laughs, setting off to the kitchen. “coming right up, princess.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kuroo fluff #haikyuu fluff #kuroo drabble #haikyuu drabbles

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zepskies · 11 months

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Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

#Talk to Me #reader request #soldier boy #Imagine Ben losing you sequel #You confront Ben about his fears #hurt/comfort #Soldier Boy imagine #BMD verse #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #Break Me Down verse #zepskies answers

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vanishingcherry · 1 year

Text

YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: this has been in my drafts for wayy to long, so ive decided to just finish it off and post it. im sorry lmao but i just couldn't watch this rot away in my wips any longer.

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

The video cut to you and Charles, sitting opposite each other in front of a yellow to red gradient, smiling at the camera.

"Hi! I'm YN", you say cheerfully.

"And I'm Charles"

"And we are here to take a couples quiz!"

You are handed a stack of questions from a person off screen, and turn towards Charles.

"Are you ready?"

"Is that the first question?" he retorts.

Your face drops, now showing slight annoyance but there is still a small smile you try to hide. "That's it. Minus 1 points."

"Oh c'mon! That is not fair."

You turn to argue but the video cuts to a different scene in which you ask the actual first question.

"What things do I have, of yours, that are my favourite?

He looks up in thought before chuckling and replying. "Theres a lot, you steal my stuff all the time."

You grin. "Yes, but what's my favourite?"

"My shirts? No wait! My bracelets?" He asks.

"Yeah!" you exclaim. Turning to the camera you add. "He gets so many bracelets from fans and they are all so pretty. We keep them in a bowl on our dresser so I like to take a few whenever I go out."

Looking back at Charles, you add. "You didn't know the answer, but you still got it right so I think you deserve half a point." The staff behind the camera gives you a thumbs up, noting it down for when they would edit the video.

"Ok! Next question- which song of yours is my favourite?"

He looks at you, his eyes widening with a confused expression on his face. He looks at the camera crew and then back at you.

"C'mon, I only have 2 it's not a very hard question."

"Then answer it." you reply, looking at him with a small smirk.

"Fine. Uh, AUS23."

"Wrong!" you exclaim, laughing at the way his jaw drops in surprise.

"Then what? I know its not Miami."

"Its the one you wrote for Baku." you slyly say, knowing fully well that he hadn't released it and you were possibly the only one other than him to have heard it.

You look down at the cards you had been given, reading off the next question. "What is the first thing I eat in the morning?"

You see his smirk growing in your peripheral vision and cut in before he answers. "If you dare make a joke, I will murder you."

He laughs at that, chuckling as he looks up to think. "Um. Breakfast? It's different things every morning, but if I wake up before her then I make cereal."

Noticing the evident confusion on the faces of the cameramen, you elaborate. "It's the only thing he's allowed to make without me present. The last time I let him cook alone, he burned the pancakes and half our kitchen."

Turning red at the story, he interrupts. "Okayy, next question amore."

"Which side of the bed do I sleep on?"

"Left."

"If I could get a tattoo of something, what would it be?"

"A bouquet of flowers. The flowers would be your favourite and my favourite together."

You are shocked at his response. "How did you remember that? I told you that ages ago!"

He smiles slyly to the camera. "That is why I am the best boyfriend, there is no need for these silly questions I am already the best. She told me so in be-"

"Right. Next question." You cut him off, eyes widening as you figure out where he was going with the statement. "This is the last one. If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Oh this is easy. Italy. You are always talking about how much you love it. But you also love Monaco and France so depending on how you feel, one of those three."

"Well.", you look at the camera, "I think that answer deserves 2 points." Handing your questions off to the side, you turn to Charles who has started reading the first of his questions.

"If I had a ticket to anywhere in the world, where would I go?" he reads. "This is similar to yours", he mutters.

"Home", you say confidently. "He's a mama's boy, tries to go back home as much as possible."

He blushes slightly before nodding to the camera. "Yup, 1 point."

"What was I wearing on our first date?"

You reply quick as lightening. "A shirt and pants. Very gentlemanly, I remember thinking, probably the best first impression I've had of a guy."

His eyebrows raise at the confession, cockily tilting his head in the direction of the camera. "You heard her! Next, what is something I hate?"

"A lot of things, Char."

"Is that your final answer, cherie?"

"Um." you pause. "Oh I know! When manipulate stuff that you say. It makes me really mad too. It gets really tiresome when they take stuff that Charles has said that turn into into a different story altogether."

"Thats true, I do hate that." He smiles at you, reaching over to squeeze your hand once to say thank you.

"How many kids do I want?"

"3, because you have 2 siblings. But, you said you want as many as I am comfortable with!"

"Of course, amour. You're the one whose going to be carrying them, your choice is more important here. What is something I get annoyed about?"

"Oh, when Seb and Carlos beat you at those Ferrari games you play."

His jaw drops in faux offence, shaking his head as he reads out the last question on his cue card.

"What is one my hidden talents?"

You look straight at the camera, not dissimilar to The Office. A smirk grows on your face and the lens zooms in. In the background Charles can be heard complaining.

"Oh I see! You can make these jokes, but I cant?"

The video cuts to the wider angle once again, you and Charles wave at the camera.

"Thanks for watching our couples quiz! I think it's clear that I've won."

Charles rolls his eyes, eyes shining with admiration and love for you. "Bye everybody."

Comments:

charleslover: OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE IT KILLS ME

ynandcharles: their facial expressions always kill me

username89: where do i get a charles leclerc bcs i will willingly offer all the money i have

doratheexplorer16: their love for each other hurts

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scarletwinterxx · 5 months

Text

morning with birthday boy - dad jeno scenario

Helllloooooo so i got this request for our birthday boy🥺🤍 extra fluffy for this very special day. Hope you like it!!!

omggg pls pls make a jeno dad scenario for his birthday, maybw surprising him or something ?? 🥹🥹🥹 imagine him having a son who looks exactly like him when he was a kid 😭😭

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and your son woke up early to make birthday pancakes for the birthday boy. It's a tradition that started years ago when you and Jeno started dating, he knew you loved pancakes so he took you out for breakfast and surprised you with a tall stack of your favorite pancake with a pink candle on top.

Now years later, here you are in your kitchen cooking pancakes with your son, Geonu, about to surprise your husband.

Geonu, now two years old, is at that age where you can let him join the fun. You love cooking and baking so usually he'd be right beside you as your little helper.

"Mommy, owy" his term for chocolate, pointing at the bowl of chocolate chips

"Want to put the choco chips? Okay, you do it like this" you carry him up, showing how and where to sprinkle it. You let him get a handful before you do the same, a few got stuck between his fingers and he immediately taste it

"You silly boy, you only wanted to get the chocolate huh" you tickle him, eliciting giggles from your little boy. Geonu is a splitting imagine of Jeno, when he was born and Jeno's mom said he look3d exactly like Jeno when he was born. And as the years passed by Geonu's showing more resemblance with his father.

Your favorite one being their identical eye smile.

You finish cooking the pancakes, fixing a stack to surprise Jeno with. Carrying the plate in one hand and Geonu with your other.

Opening your bedroom door, you see your husband still fast asleep. His bare back towards the door, you set Geonu on the bed and he immediately crawls towards his dad. Climbing on his back and laying his head right on Jeno's head.

Jeno feels something on his cheek, something settles on his back too. After a few seconds he can feel something wet on his cheek, a tiny voice gurggling.

A smile appears on his face before he could even open his eyes. He peaks with one eye, turning to see you at the edge of the mattress with a plate of pancakes and his son giving him his morning kisses

"Good morning, happy birthday baby" you tell him. He carefully move Geonu from his back to his lap, sitting up to blow the candle

"Geonu, let's make a wish. Okay 1 2 3" the little boy blowing the candle with Jeno, you sit infront your boys watching them with smitten eyes

"Thank you, baby" he tells you, leaning over to give you a kiss

"So how does it feel to be a year older?"

"I'm only a few months older, this would be you soon" he teases you back

One of many birthdays you've celebrated together and now you have your little bundle of joy to celebrate with. There's really nothing Jeno would wish for, he already has everything he needs. He used to wonder if settling down was something he'd do, he didn't really see himself as a family man. He's fine being on his own until he met you.

Ever since then, there isn't a moment he wanted to be alone ever again. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his birthdays with you the moment you smiled so big at him at that breakfast diner a few years ago.

He finally knew what real contentment feels and it's this. Mornings with you and the little boy who is equal parts of him and you. Celebrating birthdays with a tradition the two of you made.

"Let's have breakfast downstairs, I made eggs and bacon and coffee" you tell him, getting Geonu from then standing up from the bed.

Jeno sets the plate down on the bedside table before giving you a hug by the waist. Your hand finds his hair, giving him a half hug.

"I love you so so so much" he mumbles, looking up at you

You lean down to kiss him again, after a few seconds you feel a hand separate the two of you making the two of you laugh

"Uhhhh what is this? She's mine before she was yours" Jeno tells his son, giving his tummy tickles.

"Okay okay let's go get breakfast, we have a full day ahead. You go get dressed" you tell Jeno, knowing full well what's underneath the sheets

He smirks at you, waving as you walk out the door

After a few seconds you peak your head by the door, "I love you too" you say then you walk away. Jeno smiles, his eyes disappearing as the familiar feelings envelops him again. Like he's falling inlove with you for the first time again.

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kaiser1ns · 10 days

Text

#. CHEATER, CHEATER STOP !

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, takiishi chika, togame jo, kaji ren

fluff. yes, what you did was indeed cheating to some extent, but sometimes you have to play dirty to win.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

"I knew it, you were cheating on me..." the pain in his voice, the agony and misery colored his face and his eyes began to water slowly, drop by drop as if at any moment the wall holding the dam would collapse. "But i didn't expect to be with my own best friend."

"Hajime it's not what it looks like, I-I swear I can explain," you demanded, stuttering in the process as you were caught in the act, right on the spot.

"It's not what it seems? With everything that we've been through and all that I've given for you ... And this is how you repay me?" he slammed his hands on the table, furious that was one way to describe the situation as he was starring at both of you, trying to dig out an answer.

The uno cards scattered across the table seemed to echo the shattered pieces of trust that was once held in the palms of your hands. Hiragi stepped in, "It was all her idea. I am innocent." Umemiya raised an eyebrow at you like you just broke his heart (you did). "I didn't know my girlfriend was secretly an Uno mastermind and that you Hiragi would be her little follower."

"Baby, don't take it too seriously, it's just a game." You laughed a little because of his dramatic reaction, yes what you did was indeed cheating, at some point, but if you want to win you have to play dirty sometimes.

Umemiya sighed dramatically, he is being such a child right now, "Just a game? And you made me draw 32 cards because it's just a game. Do you even understand the emotional trauma you've put me through?"

"Pretty much yeah." you said nodding of head followed by Hiragi's humming, because everyone goes through it — you either put the plus cards or you draw them, no in between.

Umemiya shot Hiragi a look of betrayal before turning back to you with furrowing his eyes and pouting. You flashed him a grin, your smile so genuine like you just didn't commit the most serious crime against your boyfriend. "I will make it up to you, anything you want. More cuddles? You got it. More kisses? On the way!"

You stood up from your place to sit next to him, as you held your hand for him to take it. And he did as you kissed him on the cheek, leaving a little scent from your strawberry lipgloss you know he adored.

He can't be that mad at you, not for too long. Despite you being a cheater.

"She's pretty good at making pancakes, just saying." The white head couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's comment, knowing how much they loved your pancakes. Food tastes better when you're in good company, not with cheaters of course. "Alright, fine. But no more stacking up the whole deck against me."

You nodded, suppressing a giggle. "I will try, no promises~"

TAKIISHI CHIKA

The two of you sit on the floor, surrounded by scattered UNO cards, your laughter filling the room. Boredom crept into Chika's features after the countless games over the past hour, but then, you laid down a +4 card, well luck was on your side today. He's about to draw twenty cards, practically handing you the win.

“You should stop doing that,” he mutters, his patience worn out after countless games. You can't help but laugh, teasing him with your victory. "Don't be a sore loser now, baby. You did pretty good but I always win."

Just as you're reveling in your win, Chika threw his cards aside angry and annoyed by your so-hidden antics. Before you know it, he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him. You squeal in surprise as he settles you on his lap, clearly having lost interest in the game.

"You know that flirting with your rival will do you no good, right?" you say, half-joking, as he removes the cards from your hand. Chika’s golden eyes lock onto yours, a serious stare replacing the soft smile that had tried to form on his lips. "You should stop cheating," he says, his voice low and demanding, as he knows you all too well by now and how you proceed to get your wins.

"I did not!" you exclaim, genuinely offended. You’ve always had luck drawing the right cards at the right time, but cheating? Never. You always play fair, and you give your opponent a chance to make their best strategy.

"I will make sure you learn your lesson," he says, cupping your face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the intent behind his words. He moves your head slightly as if inspecting you, making you feel like a doll in his hands. What's gotten into him? It nice though, to see him behave like that.

"It's not okay to threaten girls," you tease, touching his hands that still cup your face.

"It's not okay to cheat," he counters, Touché. You frown, pretending to be ready to get up, despite your best efforts, his grip is firm. He’s not letting you go just yet. Chika always seems to see through your tricks. He’s always claimed he wouldn’t be a perfect boyfriend, but calling you a cheater? That's a new low, even for him.

His eyes study you, as if you're a puzzle he's trying to solve. In many ways, you are. You bring out a side of him that’s unfamiliar even to himself. If Endo had been here, he’d have said this was completely out of character for Takiishi. Yet, here he is, a lovesick fool, the joker in the deck, and the plus card in the UNO game of your relationship—always keeping you with a million questions in mind not knowing what to expect next.

“And what are you going to do now?” you whisper, as he leaned closer. His breath is warm against your skin and the game is long forgotten.

TOGAME JO

Togame loved shogi, especially playing with the elders from whom he had learned so much. You admired this hobby of his and how good he was at the game, but today, you were determined to finally beat him. The record was 4-0 in his favor, but you still won't give up, not when you were so close to taking his king this time.

As the game progressed, your focus sharpened, your moves becoming more strategic. Your boyfriend watched you with an affectionate smile, clearly enjoying the way you were so deep into focus. Then, in a moment that felt almost unreal, you saw it. The opening. Your hands moved almost on their own, and you captured his king.

"I did it?" you whispered to yourself, still unsure if you had truly won. But the realization hit, and a wide grin appeared on your already beautiful face. "I did it!"

Togame's eyes lit up with a warm and proud smile directed at you, "Congratulations," he said warmly, reaching over the headboard to shake your hand. You extended yours as well, but instead of a handshake, he tugged on the sleeve of your blouse. To your shock, a few of his shogi pawns fell out, clattering onto the board.

"W-what… How did they end up here?" you stammered, trying to mask your 'surprised' face. "Pfft, can you imagine?"

Togame stared at you, his expression turning serious, though his eyes still held a hint of playfulness. "Y/N, you didn't need to cheat," he said, his voice gentle despite the scolding. You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "I didn't mean to," you mumbled, feeling embaressed that he found out, no tricks up your sleeves, yet he didn't belive any of it. "I just wanted to beat you once in something."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Your determination is one of the things I love most about you. But next time, let's keep it fair and square, okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "Okay," you agreed, smiling at him. "But just so you know, I would have won anyway."

He laughed, a sound that always made you feel warm inside. "We'll see about that," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

KAJI REN

It was one of those rare times when Kaji finished his patrols around the town early as he found himself resting with you and Kusumi, his fellow vice-captain. You had suggested playing UNO to kill time until the others returned. Kusumi had easily secured first place, and now it was just you and Kaji left in a heated duel.

The game had stretched out, each of you fiercely battling with plus cards, neither willing to back down. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you managed to clinch victory with a triumphant smile. Kaji looked at you, then at Kusumi, who extended his hand to you, to give you plus cards. The realization dawned on him.

"Is this how you're going to play now?" Kaji's voice was tinged with anger and annoyance, his usual calm demeanor shattered. You noticed his lollipop, previously a sweet distraction, was now gone.

"What do you mean Ren?" you asked innocently, placing another +4 card on the table, sealing the deal. Your boyfriend threw his remaining cards onto the table, clearly pissed off. His frustration was visible as he was about to open his mouth to express his annoyance, but you acted quickly, placing another lollipop in his mouth, silencing him effectively.

"We'll talk about this later," you said, your tone teasing. "For now, let me enjoy my win, baby."

The word "baby" came out a bit like an insult, making him sulk even more. Despite his irritation, he couldn't stay mad at you forever. As he sucked on the lollipop, his annoyance seemed to melt away, replaced by the warmth of your presence. Kusumi chuckled, shaking his head at the two of you, standing up to leave you alone sensing that Kaji wanted to be with you now.

"You cheated," he mumbled around the lollipop. You leaned in closer, your face inches from his. "Maybe," you whispered, "but you still love me." He couldn't help but roll his eyes at you, his earlier anger slowly disappearing. "Yeah, I do," he admitted, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "But next time, I'm winning."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. "You already won if you want to know." It took him a while to find the meaning in your words, but cuddled with him, Kaji knew best what you meant.

taglist :: @meidiary @kazuhaiku @kiurona @maruflix @stunie @nyxypoo @kajibunny

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hedonists-den · 4 months

Text

POV: Your eating habits and your weight have gotten so unbelievably out of control lately that I think it's about time I give you a wake-up call in the form of some teasing and shaming.

⚠️ It gets a little mean, so... ⚠️

Hope you enjoy! 😇

TRANSCRIPT:

What is it? Is there something you need to tell me? You overate again... Well, I'm not surprised. Is it really overeating if you do it every time you sit down and glut yourself like you’re trying to win some prize? No, it's just the norm for fatasses like you. Shameless, self-indulgent gluttony is just the way it is for you. You should be ashamed. You should be desperately searching for a way to stop yourself. What kind of person shovels food in their face the way you do? What kind of person lets themselves get so obese that they can’t do basic things without getting winded?

I don’t imagine you even have any excuse for what you're doing to yourself. Imagine what you could look like if you weren't so busy gorging yourself with greasy food and carbs every chance you get. It's fucking obscene. And do I really need to bring up your sweets addiction? I swear, at this point, you might as well just have me hook a funnel up to your greedy mouth and pour syrup down your throat.

Wait…please don’t tell me…do you actually think about that? What, are you just going to eat and eat and eat until you can barely waddle from room to room? Have me stuff you until all that weight that you keep piling on ripples with every lumbering step that you take? Is that what you want, fatty? This huge, heavy-breathing, mound of embarrassing flab that can barely maneuver around your own home? If you keep this shit up, you’ll be there faster than all those DoorDash deliveries you keep getting every fucking day.

At this point, I’m just morbidly curious about what goes on inside your head that justifies letting yourself become so shockingly, grotesquely obese. I mean, look at what a shameless blob you are…rolls stacked on top of each other like pancakes, each one covered in stretch marks, with a hanging gut that takes over your lap, the flab on your arms keeping them pinned to your sides. God, every inch of your body is overflowing with fat. You eat so many goddamn calories, it looks like you're in a near-constant state of stretching and expanding. How can you not notice that your body is screaming at you to stop being such a fucking pig?

Is there even a point in trying to shame you for all of this? You’re obviously not going to change one thing about the way you’re ruining yourself. All you’re going to do, as soon as you can, is find the next thing to stuff your face with. So, what is it going to be this time, tubby? Burgers? Pizza? Few boxes of snack cakes? Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you to get all three, the way that I’ve seen you eat. You clearly don’t have any self-control, so, fuck it, why not? Just hork down more calories until your body can barely handle it. Stuff your bottomless pit of a stomach every chance that you get. Even after every other sign is telling you to stop.

You know what? I don’t think anything can help you now. You are too far gone, and there’s no way you’re coming back from this. You’re going to be half a metric ton of pure blubber soon enough. And you’ll have no one to blame but yourself for what a hopeless, greedy, wobbling tub of lard that you are. So just lay back and grab another snack, why don’t you?

#just feeder things #fa audio #feedism.#weight gain #wg kink

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wondersinwaynemanor · 7 months

Text

the Wayne kids would definitely wear something from their partners without them knowing. or they just forgot because they're so into it.

[a bit long as this is for each Wayne kid]

Dick, enters the movie room at the Manor, announcing himself quite loudly: Who missed me????

his siblings exchange looks as they judge the The Flash joggers their eldest brother is wearing.

Bruce eyes fall to the clothing, a light smile on his lips.

Dick, plops himself beside Damian, ruffling his hair: I hope I didn't miss too much. I got caught up with something.

Jason: Did that something have anything to do with a specific speedster, Dickface?

Damian, huffs as Dick gives him a side hug: You've been frolicking quite often with West these days, Richard.

Jason, attempts to whisper but he obviously wanted everyone to hear him: I'm sure it's more than frolic.

Tim and Duke snicker at that.

Dick, steals Jason's bowl of popcorn: What you guys talking about? He's my best friend. If he needs something, I'll be there-

Cass pokes at Dick's knees and gives a knowing look at the joggers.

Dick, goes red as he continues to eat more popcorn: Um... My pants got dirty. Had to borrow. No big deal. Now..... What we watching????

Dick, grins and bows down as he stands on the mat: Okay! Who's ready to spar with the Master?

Jason and Tim roll their eyes in sync as they do their own business at the Batcave.

Cass emerges outside the changing rooms, wearing her workout clothes with a purple headband that's totally not her brand, and waves a hand to Dick as if indicating "me".

from his place at the Batcomputer, Bruce smiles when he sees his daughter.

Dick, coos: Awww. That's a cute headband, Cass. Where'd you get it?

Damian, emerges from the changing rooms: It seems to be Brown's.

Cass pretends not to blush when she touches the headband on her head.

Dick: You look adorable, Cass.

Before Dick could tease her even more, Cass does a move that knocks Dick on the floor.

Jason enters the dining room. he's the last one to join the rest of the family on the table.

his siblings exchange looks when they see the Star City shirt he's wearing, a shirt that's clearly tight for him.

Jason is minding his own business, stacking pancakes on his plate when Bruce starts the conversation.

Bruce, hides his smile behind the newspaper: Morning, Jaylad. I thought you were arriving later tonight.

Jason, shrugs: Business was cut off short.

Dick, grins from across the table: Just admit it, Little Wing. You miss us.

Jason, groans: It's too early, Dick. Please.

Duke: But not too early to wear a shirt that's clearly not from Gotham, right?

Damian: Must be some lousy business Todd got into.

Tim, snickers: Or an interesting one for Jason as it's clearly a Roy-related business.

Jason: What the fuck are you guys on about?

Cass, who is sitting beside him, tugs at his shirt.

Jason, pretends not to blush and continues to eat: 'nd your o' ucking 'iness

Alfred: Language, Master Jason. And you must not talk with your mouth full.

Tim enters the dining room after a long day at work as CEO of Wayne Enterprises. he hopes he isn't too late for family dinner.

Tim, sits down: Sorry, I'm late. It's been a looong day.

his siblings exchange looks when they see Tim wearing a leather jacket, which clearly wasn't part of his suit and tie that he initially wore to the office.

Bruce has to bite his lower lip to refrain from smiling.

Steph, raises her brow: Was there a photoshoot or something?

Tim, who doesn't look up as he starts typing on his phone: Huh...

Damian: You just got here, Drake, but you're already distracted. How childish of you.

Duke, clears his throat beside Tim: Tim, sorry to break it to you, but you're wearing a leather jacket. It doesn't seem to be your style.

Tim, almost drops his phone: Sh- Oh, yes, it's Kon's. He dropped by to the office to report something. Some team stuffs that doesn't concern any of you. I was cold, so he let me borrow.

Steph: We already know Tim secretly wanted the jacket even though he wasn't cold.

Tim tries to aim a pea on Steph's face, but she just catches it with her mouth.

Duke, enters the Batcave after morning patrol: Seriously, these rogues are coming out at morning too often these days.

his siblings, who were present at the cave, exchange looks when they see the cap with the letter R on his head.

Bruce pretends to cough to cover his chuckle.

Dick, grins: New getup, Little D?

Tim, smiles from beside Bruce by the Batcomputer: It looks good on you, Duke!

Duke, blushes: Wait, huh- Oh. It's Izzy's. She was nice enough to let me borrow.

Jason, pats Duke's shoulder as he makes his way to his motorcycle: You're one of the people I can say looks good with a cap, D.

Dick, shouts: Wait. Who's the other one, Little Wing? I don't wear a cap!!!

Damian enters the vehicle.

the rest of his siblings exchange looks when they see the oversized hoodie their youngest brother is wearing.

Bruce, who is on the driver seat, doesn't even try to hide the smile he has on his face.

Jason: I didn't know that after a sleepover, you get to bring home your host's clothes.

Tim: Oh, shut up, Jay. As if you're any better.

Jason: No one asked you to open your mouth, Replacement.

Dick, cuts the conversation: Aww, you look really adorable with Jon's hoodie, Dami.

Cass, beside him, plants a soft kiss on Damian's cheek.

Damian, curses internally before pulling the sleeves of the hoodie to his wrists: Tt. How did you know this was Jon's?

Duke: Well, it couldn't be Clark's right? It would drown you.

Damian, huffs, definitely not blushing: Whatever. Let's just go.

and the Wayne kids would definitely not return the things they're wearing.

1K notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 11 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill.

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents.

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you.

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it.

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump.

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.”

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed.

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule.

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo.

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.”

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking.

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes.

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne.

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds.

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation.

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.”

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat.

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue.

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat.

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition.

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do.

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve.

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats.

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats.

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off.

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows.

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you.

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team.

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines.

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them.

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks.

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper.

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same.

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure.

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all.

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug.

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air.

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin.

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap.

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?”

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day.

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place.

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy.

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust.

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful.

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look.

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body.

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it.

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong.

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie.

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer.

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth.

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye.

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers.

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin.

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours.

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck.

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles.

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously.

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible.

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory.

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave.

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high.

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs.

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath.

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do.

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today.

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.”

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started.

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain.

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone.

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is.

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart.

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance.

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation.

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

💚

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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disneyprincemuke · 7 months

Text

i got the best friends * fem!driver

they have a birthday tradition that stemmed from her efforts to make sure that they were homesick spending their birthdays so far from home

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hi i have another update are you ready are you ready bc i am not

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> april 6 2023

the bed dips, oscar groaning as he nuzzles his face into his pillow. “no.”

“yes!” a shriek fills his once silent room as the other side of the bed dips once more. “happy birthday, oscar jack piastri!”

he groans, “not the full name!”

“oh, good morning, you guys,” he hears lily say, feeling her starting to pull the blankets off her body. “oh, pancakes! if oscar doesn’t want them, can i have them?”

“i made you your own pancakes!”

“how is that supposed to make me feel special on my birthday?” oscar finally sits up, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of his best friends kneeling between his and lily’s body. “why does she get pancakes too?”

the girl, facing him slightly blinks at him blankly. “because i made the pancakes.”

oscar tilts his head, moving his focus to logan who’s also holding a plate of pancakes. logan shakes his head, “i made them — she forced me to make another batch for lily.”

“okay, enough yapping,” the girl waves them off.

on her plate is a stack of 3 pancakes with a lit orange candle stuck on the top. it’s a yearly tradition that started when he turned 14, oscar waking up to pancakes on the morning of his birthday spent in her household.

she had made an attempt at cooking pancakes only once in her life: the morning of oscar’s 14th birthday in 2015, claiming that she didn’t want him to feel homesick spending the day with a family he’s not even related to. it wasn’t a good attempt because logan took over the minute she got eggshells in the batter they were making together.

they ate pancakes that morning before they left to spend the day outside to celebrate oscar’s birthday.

and it’s been a tradition ever since for anybody’s birthday.

“happy birthday, osc!” she grins, holding the plate towards him. “make a wish.”

he takes a deep breath, catching lily’s stare as she sits next to the girl on the bed, then he blows away on the flame. “what are we doing today?”

logan shrugs, taking a spot next to lily on the bed with his plate of pancakes to distribute to everyone else. “she suggested karting at this track nearby.”

“or,” she points out, reaching out to logan’s plate to get herself a pancake, “i reckon we can stay home and watch movies and play mario kart.” she turns to oscar with her lips pressed together. “unless you made plans with lily.”

lily perks up and shakes her head. “god, no! we didn’t make plans!”

“wow,” logan mutters, turning to look at oscar. “can you believe her?”

“no, it’s not like that, of course!” lily shrieks, cheeks flushing as she waves her hands in the air to dismiss logan’s accusations. “i just know that you guys like spending the day together on your birthdays. besides, we celebrated yesterday.”

oscar hums, nodding his head as he starts to devour his own set of pancakes. “yeah, we’ve been doing that for years so that you don’t interrupt us doing couple stuff.”

“maybe oscar’s the one who hates us, dude,” logan mutters, looking down momentarily to sell his emotions. “i wouldn’t be shocked if that were the truth.”

the girl plops herself at the foot of the bed, sighing loudly. “what do you suppose we should do today, birthday kid?”

-> december 1 2023

she feels her body being shaken, slowly pulling her out of her sleep. she lifts her head from her pillow slightly and takes a peek with one eye open. “logan? what time is it?”

“midnight,” logan whispers, his face slightly illuminated by the flame from the small candle in his hands. “oscar and lily are dead asleep right now.”

“i would hope so,” she whispers, moving slightly to sit up properly. “it’s midnight — you made pancakes at midnight?”

he shakes his head, moving slightly and holding something out to her. “i got you a cupcake. oscar and lily said they’d make the pancakes as per usual tomorrow morning.”

she tilts her head. “why–”

“could you make a wish and blow the candle out first before you have to eat a cupcake with candle wax as a topping?” logan rambles, watching the candle intensely.

for some reason, they don’t own a lighter in their apartment, so he had to venture back to the kitchen stove for a fire source to get the candle lit and walk back to her bedroom. waking her up was the hardest part — she jumps up when woken up abruptly and seeing that he’s holding a cupcake with a flame on it, that wasn’t the best outcome.

she nods hurriedly, leaning forward to blow the candle out in a swift motion. the flame is extinguished and leaves them in the dark and silence of her bedroom. she reaches over to her bedside table, turning on her lamp to finally catch a look at logan’s flushed cheeks and droopy eyes from his tiredness.

“so what’s the cupcake for again?” she whispers, moving up and patting the empty spot on the other side of her bed. she takes the cupcake into her hands when logan crawls over to the empty spot. “thank you though.”

logan shrugs, tucking himself under her blankets with her. “felt like you needed an extra cupcake for your 21st birthday.” he puts his hands on his lap and turns to her with a grin. “happy birthday — you’re officially an adult everywhere now.”

she grins, “thank you.”

-> december 31 2023

“happy new year’s eve!” she throws her hands in the air, hair up in a ponytail as she approaches logan.

logan perks up, walking away from his once fruitful conversation with his brother. he throws his arms around her smaller frame, tightening his arms around her. “you made it!”

“of course,” she snorts, pulling away and taking a step back. “and, duh, it’s my best friend’s birthday!”

typically, she spends new year’s eve back in europe with her family. but she’s got team commitments in new york right as the year starts and it was easier — and cheaper — to travel from miami than it was to come straight from home.

“pancakes?”

“i made them!” she grins as logan slings an arm around her shoulders, walking towards the building. “i set them in the room your mother brought me to, though. you don’t mind if i pull you away from the party for a while, right?”

“i’m sure dalton doesn’t mind.”

“oh, my gosh! i forgot to say hi to dalton!”

she tries to spin out of his arms, but the younger brother of the two only reels her back into their walk towards the house. “you can say hi later. it’s my birthday, remember? birthday pancakes first.”

“right.”

they spend the walk up to the spare guest bedroom talking and giggling over the happenings of her flight to miami. surprisingly, it had gone well; well enough for her to be convinced that flying alone isn’t too bad of an ordeal.

she opens the door to the bedroom logan’s mother had prepared for her, neatly prepped and carefully catered to the younger girl. on the table in one corner of the bedroom is the pancakes that she promised with a candle lying stray on the table with a lighter next to it.

“wait, did you say you made this?” logan hums, lifting an eyebrow. “is it safe to eat?”

“so i didn’t make it,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “i didn’t have the time and you’ve said multiple times that pancakes aren’t as good when they’re cold. i bought them before i drove down here to your parents’ house.”

logan puts a hand over his chest. “aw, how sweet! you went out of your way for me?”

she lights up the candle and pokes it into the top pancake. “don’t act surprised. we’ve done this for one another forever.” she turns around and grins as logan approaches her slowly, lifting the plate. “happy birthday, logan.”

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#logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 female driver #formula one x reader #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

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letorip · 16 days

Text

casual [iii]

"i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself, hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell"

===+++===

pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader

summary: you're not just going to let her go, this time. after long enough, you arrive at the very obvious conclusion that you're in love, and there's very little else to be done about that

warnings: mentions of sex, cuss words, a bit of angst but i promise a happy ending :)

word count: 7.2k

A/N: all good things must come to an end. trust, i'll write for nat again. also i stayed in that airport so fucking long it was like purgatory, and i'm so sorry it took longer than i thought, i've had an exhausting past two weeks and just needed to stop and breathe for a minute

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THAT ONE ANON I FEEL BAD I'M LATE

===+++===

"Please tell me you didn't do it on my sheets," Lottie groaned, lip curled in disgust and eyes hidden by her sunglasses.

"Sorry," you said back from behind your own pair, without looking away from the crystal blue of her pool water. You both were splayed out on her sun-bleached deck chairs, with matching hangovers (and bathrobes) that made the bright, beaming sunlight a whole new level of awful.

Her house was in disarray around you both, with crushed beer cans and overturned chairs all across the pool deck. Some cigarette butts floated in the water and you were certain the sprinklers in her garden were misting a pile of vomit and washing it down the front of her lawn, but neither of you made a move to get up and deal with it yet.

At the far end of the Matthews' pool, there was a statue of a mermaid that doubled as a fountain, spitting water in a gentle stream. Someone had put a snapback that said 'I <3 BOOBIES' on her and a bit of lipstick around the area that water shot out, and though usually you would have laughed, you instead were a bit annoyed by how it was taking you out of what would've been a nice scene.

There was just something about waking up and seeing Nat had gone without any sort of indication, that sparked the sudden urge within you to reconnect with nature. So you were reconnecting— more like brooding— on Lottie's pool deck in a peaceful silence.

After what felt like thirty minutes but was probably more like five, she turned to you. "Do you wanna—”

“—Talk about it?” you finished, raising your eyebrows. You shook your head. “No.”

She pouted. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to make pancakes.”

“Oh… then yes.”

You both lazily trudged into her equally wrecked kitchen, with even more cans and spilled liquids thrown over her marble counters. There was a burnt bag of popcorn sitting in the sink and the garbage can underneath it was overflowing with paper towels, but Lottie's kitchen was big enough where you could ignore it entirely, jumping up to sit on the clean countertop near her massive range cooker.

When Lottie said 'make pancakes,' she really meant she would be the one cooking and you would be there for moral support, if anything. You were gifted in many things but cooking or anything of the sort had never been one of them. Instead you leaned your head against the massive stone hood, and watched her from the pair of sunglasses you still wore.

Nat had laughed at you, when you said you didn't know how to cook. Not an omelette, not mac and cheese, and barely a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Of course, you assumed the last one wouldn't be hard to figure out, but you hadn't ever made one before, and it made her laugh into your chest, where her head had been resting. It hurt a bit now, but you had the sunglasses to shield your eyes while you stared off into space.

"Chocolate chips?" Lottie asked, running a hand through her dark hair and combing out a few knots with her fingers. You nodded, and she turned back to the pan in front of her, grabbing a fancy looking bag from a stack of supplies nearby. "My dad brought fresh chocolate back with him from when he was in the Caribbean a few weeks ago," she said to you, sprinkling it into the pan and flipping it over.

"Is he going to be pissed you're using it for pancakes?" you mumbled, feeling your headache return.

"No more pissed than he'll be when he sees that Jeff and his friends cut off the leg on one of his horse-shaped hedges." You winced, hopping down from the counter and feeling your back still scraped raw from, well, Nat. Lottie shot you a look. "That heated, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, heading towards the kitchen island and grabbing some of the beer cans to toss in the rubbish. "She's made her decision clear. I'm honestly done with it. I don't care anymore."

Lottie didn't say anything, turning back to the pancakes and sliding them on a plate as you slid into the barstool at the other end of her island and rested your head on your elbows. "I mean, she called me selfish, Lottie, and then said she loved me multiple times, minutes later. Who the hell does that?"

"Mhm," she hummed, sticking her spatula and the pan in the sink and then moving to the walk in pantry to grab syrup and powdered sugar.

You watched her go, calling after her. "She disappears for days after she gets mad about me talking to people, and then I see her immediately with Bobby Farleigh of all people, and they're cuddling up! I'm done with it all."

"Okay," Lottie said, reappearing with her arms full and tossing them down on the kitchen island. She clambered up into the seat next to you and stole some of the plain ones for herself, before covering them in syrup.

"And," you continued, remembering something else as you began cutting up the pancakes and smothering them in powdered sugar, "she egged my fucking house! How could I even forget about that? I mean, what was I thinking? I don't want to talk about her."

"Oh yeah," Lottie snorted. "You really don't want to talk about her."

You shot her a glare, stuffing your mouth with an angry fork. "I'm serious, Lottie."

"You wish," she scoffed. "If you were serious— and I'm not trying to be mean— but if you were serious, you wouldn't be ranting all about her. I know you keep saying it's impossible and it can't happen with her, but you sure as hell seem like you want it to happen with her."

You frowned, taking a forkful and stuffing it into your mouth. Right as you did, a couple sheepishly walked down the hall and towards the front door, clothes obviously messed up. They sent you an awkward wave and Lottie gave a quick nod in their direction, turning back to her plate. "Then why'd she leave?" you asked, when the door was shut behind them.

She shrugged. "Why the hell would I know? If anyone here would be the Natalie-whisperer, it would be you."

"Yeah well, apparently not," you huffed, shoving more pancakes into your mouth.

"I mean, it's not like you guys were on glowing terms before you... y'know. Wasn't gonna magically all be fixed, after." You groaned, leaning your forehead down onto the cool marble countertops. It actually felt nice, against your raging headache, but you still felt like crap.

"Would've at least been nice for her to wait until I woke up to go. No 'goodbye,' no 'we should talk,' nothing. When we were just hooking up and stuff, I at least always waited to say goodbye."

"So it's not just hooking up, anymore?"

"I don’t know what it is, Lottie. You tell me, because apparently everyone knows but me." She shrugged, finishing her plate and pushing it away from herself.

"I have an answer, but you're not gonna like it."

"...No, I'm not in love with her."

"You absolutely are."

"I'm done with this!"

"You keep saying that."

"'Cause I am."

"Okay."

"I'm done," you frowned, attempting finality in your tone and coming far short.

"Right," she snorted, and then she stood to grab your now-finished plate too. "Can you help me?”

It took around three hours, to get the Matthews house back to its usual formality. You sprayed burnt and disturbed bushes with the hose, threw out bag upon bag of party rubbish, and vacuumed cigarette butts off the carpet of her living room, silently working while Lottie played some records on her grandfather's old gramophone.

Her dad usually put jazz records on it or snooty classical music, whenever you were over, but Lottie had Dancing Queen blasting throughout her house and was hopping around as she snatched stuff off the mantle and shoved it into bags, turning to you and yelling a lyric from time to time, along to the music.

This wasn't your idea of fun by a long shot, but you could appreciate Lottie trying to make it fun.

"So, how much convincing did you have to do, to get Laura Lee here at a party? I mean, with the alcohol," you asked with a snort, grabbing an almost empty bag of crisps and tossing yourself down in her father's leather armchair to finish them off.

Lottie flushed. "A really embarrassing amount," she admitted. "I kind of glazed over that part."

"I'll bet she was surprised?" you asked with an amused crunch.

"It wasn't even that— this guy from my third period started going at it with this girl right in front her. I had to literally stop her from going over there to talk to them about waiting until marriage."

You shrugged. "I mean, she seems to like you a whole lot."

"She does," Lottie nodded. "She's so sweet to me, and she has the best hand to hold, like, ever."

"Honestly, I'm surprised, but happy for you. You're in a big ol' throuple with Jesus Christ."

"Ha ha," Lottie rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you. "At least whatever we have is holy. I don't even want to think about you and—"

But whatever dig she would've said was cut off by her doorbell ringing. You sighed, letting your feet down from where you had propped them up on the side table and wiping the crumbs on your bathrobe.

"I'll get it," you grumbled, leaving Lottie to clean. When you opened the door there was absolutely no way you could've prepared to see her so soon.

Nat stood awkwardly in the entryway, looking just as surprised to see you as you were to see her. She wore a pair of blue shorts she practiced and slept in, and staring right back at you was the shirt you thought had gone missing weeks ago, barely hidden behind the ratty zip up hoodie she had over it.

Her eyeliner was still smudged from the night before in places, and you stared at her blankly, waiting for her to say something— anything, really.

"I forgot my damn lighter," she said, casting her eyes to the floor after a moment.

"Oh," you replied, feeling a bit stupid suddenly, in your bathrobe and sunglasses, with your flip flops for shoes. You looked like you were mid-spa day, or like someone's drunk uncle on a cruise. Then, before you could stop yourself, you felt an annoyance twinge in your gut, and said "Is that all you've got to say?"

Her eyes shot up, looking challengingly at you, in what was a clear frustration. "What do you want me to say?" But the answer went unsaid, even as much as you didn't like it. That you came back for me.

"I don't know..."

"Great," Nat scoffed. She looked over your shoulder into Lottie's house, as if her lighter would appear behind you and jump right into her hand, and she would just be able to leave. "Can I just have my—"

"—Why did you egg my house?" you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to block the door a bit more. She raised her eyebrows at you, confused.

"What?"

"You egged my house, after our argument," you repeated, slower, feeling the tips of your ears burning.

"No the hell I didn't."

"Yes the hell you did," you argued back, leaning forward with your hands on your hips. "You're the only one with the gate code. I get it, you were mad, but—"

"—Fucking Christ, I didn't!"

"You wrote a giant 'fuck you' on my house. No one else would."

Nat glared. "I didn't invent it. Is it such an impossible thing for you to consider that maybe not everyone is Team (Y/n)? I don't mean to break your brain, but for once somebody might actually dislike you."

You rolled your eyes. "You're the only one with a history of breaking rules and doing shit."

"So, what, you think I would do that to you?"

"Maybe you would. Maybe you don't care about me at all. That's why you ran off, wasn't it?"

She narrowed her eyes at you. "I had to go, before my dad caught me out."

You shook your head. "Bullshit. You've stayed out, before."

"Oh, so now you're mad that I'm not cuddling up to you?"

"That's not cuddling, that's having me stick my fingers in you and then you run off. You were pissed at me a few days before, Nat, for literally the same thing."

"It's almost like it's confusing, (Y/n), when you get mixed signals. And no, I got pissed at you because you went shopping for girlfriends— which, I'm assuming because you're being an oblivious, self-righteous asshole, you're still doing."

"Yep, still looking," you glared at her. She glared right back, just as steely.

"Great."

"Great," you replied. It was annoying, how good she looked when she was frustrated. She was great at looking mad, and even better at looking good when she was mad. The furrowing of her eyebrows, wrinkling of her nose in anger; she had the face you wanted to kiss away. It was impossible not to wonder, if doing so would uncurl her fists and smooth out the lines on her forehead.

Then you stopped. Holy shit. Everything seemed awful, like a massive case of vertigo had just washed over you. You had had hangovers before, but this somehow seemed infinitely worse. See, a thought had finally self-realised itself within your little peanut brain.

I'm in love with Nat.

It made the ceiling feel like the floor, and Nat sent you a concerned glance and seemed about to question your change in expression, when Lottie came from behind you.

"Hey, Nat," she said with an awkward smile, brushing past you with a look and then handing her the lighter quickly. "Excited for nationals?”

"Yeah," Nat nodded, but her eyes were still glaring at you. She cleared her throat, finally looking off. "Thanks, Lot. Great party."

"Mhm," Lottie nodded, trying her best to seem at ease and not at all like she was walking in on a code-red situation. "Have a great weekend! Bye now! Get home safe! See you!" She rushed, tugging you from beyond the doorway and giving a wave, before shutting the door.

The moment the door was closed, she gave you an unappreciative stare, but your eyes were wide and your cheeks flushed.

"What?" asked Lottie, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"I...I think I'm in love with her."

===+++===

Your home was just as empty as it was when you had left the night before. Reginald wasn't even due to come in, since your mother and father weren't home and it was a Saturday. Even the groundskeeper and maid had the day off, and the groan you let out at finally returning home and falling onto the warm rug on your living room floor echoed against the walls of your empty house.

In your hand was the letter you found in your mailbox. A cool black and Princeton-orange colour. You already knew what it said, without even looking into it. Your father and mother went there. His father and mother, too. For years and years and years. And now, if you followed the rules set out in front of you, you too.

It was impossible not to wonder, when the fog of privilege would slowly cloud your brain. Would it be the law degree from a private school, or legacy admissions? The more frightening thing was that maybe Nat was right: it had already set in, and you unaware. You at least felt different than the rest of them. That made you different, right? You and Lottie?

The image of Nat seemed ever-prevalent. Glowering at you, like she had been in the doorway. In your shirt. With that frown. The frown that you wanted to kiss away, but would never be able to. A Scatorccio, of all people. Of all people, you had to be in love with the one person you couldn't have.

It felt simultaneously like life had resolved into something more clear and understandable, and something more depressing and doomed. You wanted to forget the realisation, and the acceptance as well. Maybe it was truly better when you were promising your friends that you felt nothing of the sort.

Your eyes flitted from where they stared at the ceiling over to the giant brown bookcase in the corner, stacked high with thick volumes of what your dad had once said were family records, but you had never grabbed one off yourself. The one that stuck out against the brown leather-bound books was a more sleek, grey memoir with your grandfather’s name printed onto the hard cover casing.

That one you had read— your father had made you read it, when you were fourteen, and your parents gave up on trying for another kid. It wasn’t as dreadfully boring as you thought it would be, but it was still a memoir about a stuffy stockbroker from the 80s, with all the parts involving cocaine conveniently edited out, but not your grandfather’s insane escapades with women.

Your father was in the process of writing his own edition, and had thereby implied that he expected you to write one for yourself. You didn't know what you could possibly write about, but then again there was the expectation you write about it anyway. You weren't a guy on Wall Street, you weren't an international businessperson. You didn't even know what you were going to school for, yet.

Next to the bookshelf in equal intimidation was a painting of your family that your father had commissioned years ago. It was back when you still had braces and acne, but thankfully the artist had removed both. You hadn't been allowed to smile for it, though that's what child-you thought you did for pictures. Instead, you and your parents' mouths were drawn into disapproving lines and hardened expressions, and the golden plaque at the bottom wore your surname in proud, powerful letters.

You sighed, sitting up onto the palms of your hands and then standing slowly, still a bit uncoordinated. You sent the painting a final glance before you wandered to the phone, grabbing the thing and checking your watch while you did it. You slumped down into the seat at the end of your dining room table, where your father usually sat, and pulled the antenna from the top, punching in the numbers absentmindedly as you stared out the window onto the garden and the pool.

The number was for your father's Monaco residence, and you waited with a jumping knee and wry expression while it rang. Eventually, though, your mother picked up. "Hello?"

"Hello, mother."

(Y/n), darling, is something wrong? You know to call Reginald first, in case of emer—"

"—No, nothing is wrong, mother. Look, I actually wanted to ask you a question."

"Well, go on then. We're about to go out to dinner."

"...Mother, do you have Julie Roosevelt's number?"

Silence on the end of the line. "Absolutely!" You didn't need to be there with her to hear the smile in her voice. "What for?"

You swallowed. "I think I'll try to take her out tonight."

"Well! Darling, that's just wonderful!" You nodded into the receiver, not like she could see it. "Make sure to wear your nice shirt, we don't want to upset the Roosevelts! I hope you know, I'm proud of you for this, really." You almost mentioned getting accepted into Princeton. Almost. But you decided not to mention it. It wasn't like you wanted to think about it anyways.

From the far wall, you could see the painting of the woman with the blue eyes staring at you.

===+++===

The local mini golf was always busy, but Saturdays were absolutely the busiest. There were couples upon couples who had the exact same idea, and were wandering around with their hands together and beaming at one another like they were living in a rom-com in the real life.

And yet you stood there with your hand in Julie Roosevelt's, and a massive frown on your face. It wasn't one that you'd let Julie see— every time she glanced in your direction, you'd quickly replace it with your best smile, showing her your teeth— but it was one that you knew you wore when she turned away.

"Sorry about the late notice," you said. You dropped her hand and went to grab a putter from the front, handing it to her and then grabbing one for yourself.

"It's okay, I was wondering if you were ever going to talk to me again," Julie laughed, a bit awkward. You winced. It's not like you could be honest, and say that you didn't intend to. The truth was, that while Julie was a bit shallow, she was also a bit too nice to deserve this one-sided thing.

Of course, there was the hope that you grew the love your mother spoke of. Maybe it would hit you, and alleviate you from Nat, who seemed to haunt your thoughts even more now, that you were aware she had captured your heart.

"I was just busy, this past week," you shrugged. "It's kind of a big deal for the Yellowjackets, and both of the teams are practicing and stuff...so."

"Wow. I guess you really like the Yellowjackets then, huh?"

"Uh...something like that, yeah. It's a big deal." She hummed, then took her things out onto the first green.

You let her go, standing behind her and watching with a grin and the scorecard in your pocket. Mini golf was something you took pride in being good at. But, then, of course, Julie let the ball drop, took a second, and gently hit the ball around the bend with a near perfect curve, and right into the hole.

"Yay!" she cheered, jumping up and down in celebration.

"Wha—"

Julie put her hands on her hips with a teasing grin. "Captain of the golf team, remember?" You hadn't.

"Right..."

You played a terrible game, for the most part. You stood at the end of the second-to-last hole with the scorecard in your hand and a whole bunch of big numbers on your side of the table. Julie was beaming from ear to ear, though you weren't exactly sure why.

It had been pretty much silent, with the two of you failing over and over again to find an interesting thing to talk about. It wasn't the calm, pleasant silence like it was with... well, it didn't matter now. You filled in a four, two shots over the par, and made your way over to where Julie was crouching down, to get a better view of the final hole.

"Actually wait, there's a special way you have to play this one," you called out to her, and she turned to you with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean?"

"It's kind of local tradition here," you shrugged. You weren't even sure if that was true, you just knew that it was what Nat had called it, when she taught you. "You have to swing really, really hard, and to win, you've gotta get it over the fence," you pointed, "and right into the back of that neighbourhood."

She blinked at you for a moment, and then Julie frowned, looking down to the ground. "That's mean, though. What if you hit someone's house? Or a window?"

"Bonus points," you shrugged. "I don't know, you can't really see where they go, once they're over the fence. It's fun."

Julie raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think it's a little immature? Why would I do that if I'm going to win for real?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then firmly closed it. "I guess you're right," you mumbled. It hadn't felt stupid when you suggested it, but Julie's disdain at the suggestion made you feel improper.

She did win, by a massive landslide, and you let her keep the scorecard with little protest. She was still beaming though, brightly at you like she had just had the best date of her life. Your stomach felt like it was tied up in a bunch of knots, but you smiled back at her nonetheless.

If love was something to be worked towards, you really hoped it would start working soon.

===+++===

You had only been home for about twenty minutes, when your phone started ringing. Off the hook. Over and over again. You knew who it was just from the ring, but that didn't mean you wanted to pick up.

After the disaster that was dropping Julie off at her house, you wanted to continue to staring at the ceiling. But after the sixth call back, it seemed Jackie wasn't giving up.

You picked the phone up with a frown, rolling over and smushing your chin into the bed. "Hello—"

"—OH MY GOD, YOU AND JULIE?!"

You groaned. "Jackie I dropped her off like thirty minutes ago, how do you already know about this?"

"So it's true?! You're dating?"

You sat up. "What? No, we just went on one date."

"Really? Cause Julie told Margie who told Randy who told Jeff, who told me that you kissed her and you're going out!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I didn't kiss her, she kissed me. And it wasn't even like an actual kiss, she like, pecked me, and then scrambled out of my car and up her driveway."

"Well, she's saying you're going steady."

"'Going steady?' The 40s called, they wanted their slang back."

"Ha ha," Jackie said back, and you could hear the eye roll. She went silent. "...I bet your mom is happy."

"Probably..."

"Are you happy? You're probably a shoe-in for prom court, especially since I'll be out of town. Your mom won't let you go to nationals, will she?"

"No. She'll want me and Julie to go to prom together."

"Well, I mean, at least you'll win, right? That's gotta be exciting?"

You looked over to your nightstand, where you had a polaroid of you and Nat that sat taped to the side. "Thrilled."

"(Y/n)? You okay, hubby?"

You took a sharp swallow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Julie's great."

"Right...," she paused again, "does Nat...does she know?"

"I don't think so... It's only been like, thirty minutes."

"She will soon, though. Monday."

"Yeah...I guess she will soon."

===+++===

Monday was terrible. It seemed Julie had taken the awkward attempt at kissing you as the sign that you were together. She was there at your car when you first arrived, grinning again while you and Lottie got your things for school out of the second row. Then, the moment you had locked your car, you were tugged along by a hand grabbing yours.

You didn't exactly have a good reason to be grossed out. Julie was beautiful, and if you had felt the same way for her, you would have been thrilled with the enthusiasm. Hell, if it were... well. So, you mostly let her drag you wherever she wanted.

There was about a week, to run for prom court. Your mother had promptly called you that morning to insist on prom, and insist on shopping for prom, when she returned home on Wednesday, from Monaco. It was all Julie would talk about, and you were starting to wonder how much of this was a political move for her too, rather than one of genuine interest in you.

You first saw Nat coming down one of the halls, and you hesitated a bit the moment you saw that she noticed you. Or, that she noticed you and Julie together. It was the walk of shame, frankly. You didn't belong to her, in any formal sense. But your heart did, and that was enough for it to hurt. Badly.

It seemed to hurt her too. She immediately frowned, tugging on Kevyn's sleeve and walking in the opposite direction. You wanted to run after her, but Julie had an iron grip on your hand and a smile so bright.

It was awkward enough at lunch, with Julie insisting to sit next to you and to bring her golf friends. A few of them were nice, and Jackie managed to chat them up well enough to make even more friends than before, but Lottie had a frown the entire time, and Shauna looked less than happy.

Nat wasn't staring at you at lunch anymore. It was a startling realisation, that you wanted her to be looking at you. If anything, you were looking more at her. You kept turning around, trying to seem like you were just scanning the cafeteria, but Nat was firmly looking down at her food, at the same table as always.

You felt like a runaway dog that had temporarily shrugged off its collar, trying to find home with a tail between its legs. Julie was nice, and smart, and talented. But she wasn't the one. Your one.

===+++===

"Hey, you ready?" you asked Lottie, finding her out in the hallway in front of the locker rooms. it was Friday, and you both had your soccer bags slung over your shoulder, and were about to head out to practice, but Lottie seemed transfixed on a poster on the wall. "Hey now, you've got nationals tomorrow, no distractions," you tried.

"Is she seriously trying to make it seem like you two are soulmates?" Lottie said with a grimace. It was one of the ones Julie had made in two days, and was now putting all over the school to really earn you both the win. There was a drawing of you and her on it, with a heart in the middle, and 'VOTE JULIE & (Y/N) FOR PROM COURT 1996.' It was an objectively good design, but Lottie didn't like Julie very much— or at least had started to hate her, the longer you and her were together.

"I think it's because she has a crush on you," Julie said once with a pout, after Lottie had been less than welcoming to her on a ride home.

"No she doesn't," you shook your head.

"She definitely does. You shouldn't hang out with her as much, or people will think you and her are a thing. I mean, I did at first."

The whole conversation had only made Lottie more and more annoyed with her, and that was saying a lot, with how Lottie was usually nice to most people.

"Come on," you said, gesturing with your head out towards the pitch. "Last practice before nationals."

Lottie still had a frown on her face, but she followed you out there with her arms crossed. It was still relatively early, only a few people were out. Coach Martinez's son Travis was up in the bleachers, watching, while you could see Trevor and Misty talking next to the water cooler and Jeremy and Mari passing a ball back and forth to each other.

"Hey (Y/n)," a voice called from behind you, and you could feel a similar annoyance to Lottie's washing over you. You turned to see Carter Avery, back from his suspension, with a cheeky smirk on his face. "Miss me?"

"Not even close," you scowled. He brushed past you and Lottie, pausing for a moment when he was directly in front of you staring down in an attempt at intimidation. He kept walking though, until he paused, right at the edge of the pitch.

"Oh, and (Y/n)?"

"What."

"I think I need to borrow some eggs. You got any for me?" Your eyes widened. "What about toilet paper, then?"

It was intended to create anger in you. You knew he wanted you to charge at him or something, or to scowl, but all you did was stand there, in a stunned silence. You had thought that Nat would do that. That Nat could do that to you. Of course it wasn't Nat. You felt stupid and you felt guilty, and you felt even worse that you couldn't do much about either of those things. You could try, though. And maybe that would be enough.

Lottie sent you a knowing look, but all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Maybe you could try to talk to her, after practice? It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

The Yellowjackets' moods were infectious, and it was impossible to not have a great time, at that practice. Their emotions were high, along with their excitement, and you started to feel a little bit better, the more you ran and the more you felt the wind in your hair.

Of course, that's when everything decided to go wrong. A single slide tackle from Taissa, right into Allie's leg, and everyone was panicking and yelling. You could see the bone sticking out from it, and Misty was bolting in your direction, hovering over her and attempting to right it.

"Can I get two people to carry her?" She shouted at both teams, and you immediately raised your hand, stepping forwards while Allie began to cry. You didn't even see who was grabbing her other arm until you had made it into the locker room, and Allie was still crying with Misty following behind and a very clueless looking Coach Ben behind her.

You should've known, it was her. She was selfless like that, even though she'd rather die than admit it herself. And yet, there Nat was, on the other side of Allie, laying her down on one of the locker room benches and raising her leg up. Misty ushered you both out into the hall, and suddenly both you and Nat were regretting volunteering.

You had to wait until she came out, so you would be able to carry her to the front, where the ambulance could arrive to take her to hospital, but until then it just meant you and Nat were forced to stand there in awkward silence.

It stayed that way, until you tried to speak. "So...nationals, hu—"

"Don't even," Nat snapped, shutting you up. She was twitching a little bit, in discomfort, and you knew right now that if it were outside, or if she were to have her bag, she would be pulling out a cigarette.

"...I know it wasn't you who egged my house. It was Carter... I'm...sorry."

"Real genius, aren't you."

"Allegedly. Not in practice, apparently," you admitted, sliding to the tiled floor in wait. She eyed you cautiously, but did the same, sliding down.

"Man, if I had a nickel, for every time we've been in this hallway with a serious injury... I'd have, what, two nickels?" You hummed, leaning your head back against the wall.

"That's not a lot," Nat said, rolling her eyes.

"No," you nodded in agreement, "but it's weird that it happened twice."

She thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I guess." You both could hear the whistle being blown outside, to end the final scrimmage and indicate that it was time to circle up.

"Don't you want to go hear that? Y'know, for tomorrow?"

Nat shook her head. "I'd rather be here for Allie. Though she's kind of an asshole."

You snorted. "She's a total fucking bitch."

"...Just so you know, I really did have to leave, after Lottie's party... I, uh, kissed your forehead, before I left... I guess you couldn't feel it though. You were asleep."

You shook your head. "I didn't know that..."

"...Yeah... my dad was being an asshole... it was a whole thing." You knew it hurt more than she was saying, right now, and you so desperately wanted to scoot closer, like you would've before things had gotten so messed up. Back when you were on the cusp of happiness.

"I'm sorry, Nat."

She shrugged again, like it didn't hurt, but you knew all too well. "For what?"

You would've said for being scared. For being weak. For not realising sooner. Anything. But instead you were interrupted by the sound of shoes on the tile.

Of course, there Julie had to be. She took a single look at Nat who was covered in sweat and a bit red from practice, and grimaced, before coming up to you and standing right over you, expectantly.

"Is practice over?" she asked, checking her watch. "I finished my club meeting. We have to go dress shopping— I want you there to colour match— and I need you to drop Margie off at her house, cause I said you would yesterday."

You blinked. "I mean... It kind of is? I should probably stay a bit—" you looked to Nat to see what she would say, but she was already standing up and walking off, taking the not so secret hint that Julie was telling her to get lost.

Julie watched her go, scowling behind her back and then spinning to you the moment the door clicked shut behind her. "What did she want with you?" she asked.

"We were just talking, Allie needed help."

"Well she's no good. She's one of those kids, y'know." You narrowed your eyes, getting up to your feet and wiping your hands on your shorts.

"What are you talking about?"

Julie tilted her head to the side, like she was confused by your confusion. "You must not have a lot of them, around here, but we had them all OVER, in Massachusetts. The town bicycles. Everyone wants a ride, if you know what I mean."

It was your turn to cross your arms. "No the hell I do not, Julie."

"Oh come on," she said, throwing up her hands. "She's trailer trash, at best. The delusional kind who thinks we'd look at her, like, ever. I mean, what's her body count, like over a hundred?"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you snapped at her, glowering.

"Okay, I know she's on the Yellowjackets, and she's clearly trying to get in your pants, but cmon. I'm your girlfriend, we can laugh about this kind of—"

"No, the hell you aren't. You're not my girlfriend, Julie, and you barely ever fucking were. That girl you just insulted is the best fucking person I know. She's selfless, she's kind, she makes me laugh—"

"Well then go sleep with her then!" Julie yelled, stomping her foot.

"Y'know what, I already have! And I fucking love her. So there!" And you turned right around and stomped back out onto the pitch.

===+++===

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you rolled your eyes, trudging down the stairs and calling out into the foyer. It wasn’t like whoever it was would actually be able to hear you, through the thickness of your door, if anything it was more to air your grievance with having to get up so fucking late. Your mom was once more distraught, now that you had kept the "perfect" girl for a single week and then promptly dumped her. Another vacation was in order.

Rain was still pounding on the roof from above, and it filled the emptiness of your house with a faint white noise, that was immediately shattered by the person pressing the button again. You rolled your eyes, deciding to walk even slower to the door out of nothing but spite.

When you actually opened the door, though, you had to blink a couple times, seeing a figure retreating already, down your drive. However long you had took had made them rethink why they were here, and you would've been all too happy to let the door close. That was, until you narrowed your eyes into the rain, just barely making out the shape of a familiar leather jacket.

"Nat?" You called into the storm, loud enough that there was no way she couldn't have heard you. You crossed your arms, thinking about how she had been earlier that day. "I know it's you, Natalie. Why the fuck are you here? You have nationals tomorrow."

She stopped in her tracks, just standing in it. She gently turned, shoulders rising and falling and it was clear she was breathing heavily. Her mascara was running in massive streaks down her face and dripping in small, grey droplets, and her eyes were sensitive and red, as if she had been crying and rubbed them raw. You swallowed what felt like a lump in your throat.

"This— all of this, with you— I— I can't," she stumbled, looking like a sad, wet dog in the rain.

"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows at her, walking out further onto your large, covered doorstep.

"I can't see you with her, (Y/n), I— I just can't."

"With Julie?"

Natalie threw up her arms in frustration. "Yes, Julie. I know she's perfect, or whatever, but— I— you can't be with her—"

"—Nat," you tried, stepping forward again.

"—Because I love you," she continued. You stopped in your tracks. It felt as if the air had been sucked right out of your lungs, even in the freshness brought by the storm. "I know we argue," her voice shook, "and I know we fight, and I know I smoke, and I curse, and I get bad grades, and my dad's a shithead, and I'm kind of an asshole sometimes— but I fucking love you, (Y/n). You.... I—"

"—Shut up," you said, shaking your head and rushing forward, out into the pouring storm. You collided with her, cupping her face in your cheeks and kissing her like the world would end in ten minutes. It would have, if you hadn't done it, and you had no idea how you had survived so long without doing it.

You kissed her once, and then you kissed her again, and then, when she was crying harder, and you were crying too, and she was holding onto your arms like you would fall away, you kissed her forehead, and held her tight in a hug.

"I'm selfish, and I'm a mess, and I'm never good enough for my stupid fucking parents," you said, over the rain and just for Nat, "and I don't realise that I hurt people 'cause that's not what my family does, and for that, I'm really, really fucking sorry."

She nodded in her tears, looking up at you as you both got rained on together. "But, I agree," you said, voice shaking, "we're not casual. I'm really, really fucking sorry, but I also really, really fucking love you, Nat. And I'm sorry I was too scared and too stupid, and," you raised your voice, as if to the sky, "I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING GO TO PRINCETON—" this time it was Nat who shut you up.

It was another kiss, but it was far more gentle than the first. It was a gentle press, and it took your breath away. When you pulled apart, you let your forehead fall against Natalie's. Even though the droplets were cold, you felt so warm.

After what felt like forever, but still wasn't long enough, Nat murmured to you, "should we go inside?" She still smelled like cigarettes and her perfume, just as she had in her trailer, and you intended to let the scent linger.

You shook your head. "Just stay out here a little longer with me. Please? Just let time pass."

She nodded, then smirked as she looked past you at the car on your driveway. "Fuckin' rich people."

===+++===

AAAAAND THAT'S CASUAL BABYYYYY! Finished at like 2 am. anyways, i'm tired and a little bit sleepy

#nat scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x y/n #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio #yellowjackets

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