#He would definitely have WORDS with Lucas. Maybe even BLOWS. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year ago

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Something There (Chapter 6)

6.8k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, angst, mentions of slut-shaming, pining, angst

Author's Note: FINALLY!!!!!!!! Ahh, I had some bad writer's block and struggled for a bit there, but @agentstarkid helped get me through it! Thank you for your patience!

Series Masterlist

Most of the women Roy Kent slept with didn’t stay over. Many didn’t even try. And, in all honesty, Roy was fine with it.

Not that he’d been seeing many women lately. After he’d tackled Jamie Tartt and ended his playing career, there weren’t as many interested candidates.

But Roy wasn’t interested in it anymore either. Not since Keeley, at least. He definitely wasn’t pining over her at this point, he was very much over her, and he certainly treasured their friendship, but there was no point in denying that he couldn’t bear the thought of going back to meaningless hookups, not after what he and Keeley had.

He wanted a partner, someone to understand him, someone to share his highs and lows with, someone who’d fucking challenge him and make him a better man.

There was a brief moment, when his fingers dug into Bucky’s soft skin and his mouth explored every inch of her and she whispered his name, where Roy wondered if maybe he’d found that person.

Of course, that idea dissipated when he woke up in the morning to find himself, once again, alone in his bed. He knew better than to assume she’d gone to the bathroom or down to the kitchen for a glass of water, even before he saw her clothes gone from the bedroom floor where they’d been haphazardly discarded.

Roy frowned as he stared up at the ceiling. He hadn’t really wanted her to sleep over, did he? To have to deal with the immediate conversation regarding what had just happened and what it meant… No, it was nice to have the morning to think about things and figure out what to say. Yeah, she’d done the right thing. Honestly, she’d done the Roy Kent thing.

Despite himself, Roy stayed in bed for a bit, running the night before though his slightly pounding head. He’d had a good time, actually. And not just because of the sex. Dancing with her was surprisingly nice. He was amazed by the way they’d spoken so candidly to each other about their careers and the heartbreak they shared. They’d made each other laugh, something he didn’t think they were capable of doing together.

And yeah, the sex was kind of mind-blowing.

Finally, he made himself get up, running his hands over his tired face as he wandered down the hall, where his tie still lay on the floor. In the living room he spotted his jacket lying carelessly by the couch. He crouched down, ignoring the dull pain in his knee, and fished his cell phone out of the inside pocket.

Fuck. Why did he feel more than a little disappointed when he didn’t see her name in his messages? Fuck off, Roy. Get it together.

Instead, there were a couple of texts from Jamie (“Thanks for the dance, Coach!” “Where’d you & Coach Bucky run off to??”), and Lucas (“Take good care of her ;)”), and Keeley (“Saw you leave with Bucky. Good for you two!”). He scowled. He should’ve known that people would see them getting into a cab together; Monday would mean damage control, lots of telling people they’d just shared a cab, he’d been a gentleman and made sure she got home safe, the end. That had to be what she wanted to tell everyone, right?

He hadn’t stirred an inch as I grabbed my things and redressed, closing the door quietly behind me as I called a cab to take me home.

Waking up next to Roy Kent was not good. Not that Roy wasn’t nice; on the contrary, I wasn’t surprised to find that he was fantastic in bed and quite the gentleman after, making sure I was cleaned up and comfortable before we laid down for what was supposed to be a quick nap. But when I stirred at about four in the morning and realized where I was and whose arm was tightly wrapped around me, I knew I had to get out of there. We’d crossed a bridge that there was no going back to, and I just wanted to go home and have a private panic.

The shower I took once after I’d laid in bed for a bit did nothing to take the feeling of Roy Kent off me; it was as if his hands were still on every inch of my body. The quiet little part of me that always seemed to be thinking about him couldn’t help but savor the images floating around in my mind. The loud part, the part that wanted to be taken seriously as a successful manager, the part that knew the challenges I faced as a woman manager, prayed that no one would ever find out that I’d slept with Roy Kent.

As I was blow-drying my hair, my phone went off; the words Boss-Ass Bitch appeared on my screen.

“Hey Keels,” I groaned into the phone, scrutinizing my reflection; God, my face was tired. “Are you feeling as hungover as I am?”

“Babe…” Keeley’s voice was slow and full of uncertainty. “Think I could come over?”

In less than an hour, Keeley was sitting on my couch, looking small as I handed her a mug of coffee. She watched me carefully as I sat beside her with my own mug. Something was clearly wrong, and I was terrified to find out what it was.

She gazed down at her coffee before finally opening her mouth. “I know you went home with Roy last night,” she whispered.

My heart sank. “Fuck, Keeley.” I put my hand on her leg, horrified. “I’m so sorry. It was stupid- I should have never- I would have never if I’d known you still had feelings-”

“What?” Keeley wrinkled her nose at me. “Oh, fuck, babe not that. You can shag Roy all you want. Kind of glad you two finally did it, you’ve been so damn insufferable trying to hide how badly you both want it.”

Ignoring her mocking tone, I shook my head. “What the fuck’s wrong then?”

Sobering up, she pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “Friend of mine sent me this.”

If my heart had sunk into my stomach when I thought I’d hurt Keeley, it was practically in my shoes now. There we were, getting into a cab in front of the venue. There we were, getting out of the same cab in front of his house. There was his hand on my lower back as we went up the sidewalk. There I was walking through his front door.

“What the fuck?” I hissed, fighting the urge to throw Keeley’s phone across the room. Instead, I gingerly handed it back to her, fighting every urge I had to scream my head off. “How did this happen?” Suddenly, another question seemed more important: “Has Roy seen these?”

Keeley pocketed her phone and shook her head. “I wanted to show you first. Roy’s… used to the press being all up in his shit. Figured you needed more of a heads up.”

My head fell into my hands. If my hangover didn’t make me feel like puking, this sure as hell did the trick. As soon as these photos became public, I was done for. Never mind the trophies, the medals, the legacy of winning. All I’d be was the slut who slept with Roy fucking Kent.

“Is there anything you can do?” I breathed, unsure if Keeley could hear my muffled voice.

Her hand stroked my back, trying to offer some comfort. “I will do my very best,” she promised. “Swear to God, I’ll do my best.”

He didn’t hear from her. All weekend, Roy stared at his mobile, waiting for her name to pop up. Every time it vibrated or pinged, he felt his heart skip a beat, only for it so falter when it was his sister, or Jamie, or one of the gaffers. Even Ted shot him a quick text to ask how the gala went (and if Rebecca had a good time).

By Monday morning, the knot in his stomach was the size of the football he absently kicked as the Greyhounds made their way to the pitch. He’d only growled greetings that morning and had avoided the offices; it was going to be a miserable fucking day.

“Alright there, Coach?” Beard looked at him with concern as the fellas began stretching in the cool morning air. “Been even more silent than usual.”

Roy let out one of his dramatic sighs. It was really tempting, the idea of telling someone all the shit that’d been running through his head these twenty-four hours. Of wondering what the fuck sleeping together meant, and what her leaving without a word meant.

But talking about feelings was fucking embarrassing.

“Tired,” he finally mumbled. “Fucking gala’s exhausting.”

Beard nodded. “Saw you leaving with-”

“We shared a fucking cab.” Roy cleared his throat. “Made sure she got home safe. Managed to not bite each other’s heads off in the cab, you’d’ve been very fucking proud of us.”

“Right.”

The buzzing in Roy’s pocket had his heart skipping a beat. Of course, it wasn’t the one person he was stupidly hoping to hear from; it was Keeley.

Stop ignoring me and text me back. It’s IMPORTANT.

Roy rolled his eyes and tapped away, asking Keeley what the fuck she wanted.

Can we talk during your lunch? Privately?

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbled as he responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

He tried to focus during training, he really did. But he was a mess. He forgot the names of trick plays, he confused the guys’ positions. It was humiliating. Roy felt all wrong, and he hated that everyone- the gaffers, the players, fucking Will- could see it.

Finally, he trudged down the halls, his curiosity about what Keeley had to tell him finally piquing. He grunted absently at the people he passed, his feet carrying him towards the changing room and the coaches’ offices. When he turned into his office, his heart leapt into his throat when he saw a familiar ponytail in the Whippets’ office.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Not quite sure what he was doing, Roy poked his head through the door connecting the two offices, noting that there was no Lucas or any players to be seen. Just the two of them, all alone, just like the night of the gala.

“Hey.” Roy barely recognized his own voice; it was soft, timid, almost nervous. He fucking hated it.

Her eyes were wide when she turned away from her computer. “Oh. Hello, Coach Kent.”

Coach Kent. Not Roy.

Her expression matched the way he felt inside: tense, uncomfortable, a bit confused. Maybe even a little sad. She offered him a tight smile as she stood up.

“See you around.” Before Roy could say anything, she walked out briskly, not bothering to look at him.

Roy couldn’t help feeling monumentally disappointed as he returned to his own office, shoulders sagging. What the fuck was that? He dropped into his desk chair, brows furrowed, and leaned his elbows on his knees. He’d expected some awkwardness, sure, but not whatever the fuck that was. She’d practically run at the sight of him.

“There you are.” Keeley stood in the doorway, the woeful look on her face contrasting with the fluorescent outfit she had on. She closed the door behind her. “Can we talk?”

Roy nodded, gesturing towards Beard’s desk. “Go on then.”

Before she sat down, Keeley crossed the office and shut the other door, the one that led to the Whippets’ empty office. With a sigh, she grabbed Beard’s chair and pushed it closer to Roy. The look on her face was familiar to Roy; it was her “I don’t want to have this conversation but we have to have it” face. He saw it a lot around the time they broke up. At least that time, he knew why she was making that face; this time he was completely in the dark.

“Keels?”

The blonde took a deep breath. “Right. Well, um, a friend of mine at a tabloid, she saw these photos, and she thought we might want a heads up…”

Roy’s stomach dropped. “Photos?”

Without another word, Keeley unlocked her phone and handed it to Roy; a risky move, honestly, with Roy’s temper. Roy let out a pained growl when he saw the photographs of Bucky and himself, their faces almost happy as they walked into his house.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

“Has she seen these?”

Keeley’s face somehow grew sadder at the first words Roy was able to manage. “Showed her yesterday. Meant to show you too, but you wouldn’t answer.”

Roy nodded. It made sense now, her barely speaking a word to him. Her not calling or texting. It made sense.

After a long moment of silence, Roy stood and handed Keeley her phone. She opened her mouth to say something- probably to offer sympathy or assure him that she was going to do her best to handle things- but Roy stormed off before she could.

The cool tile floor of the dark boot room provided me a safe hiding place. After Roy had surprised me in the office, I needed a place to just breathe. Seeing his face made me feel like I was going to be sick, even sicker than the photos made me feel. He was so relaxed, so calm, as if the world wasn’t falling apart.

Probably because for him it wasn’t. I knew his reputation. I’d known it before I walked into his house and accepted his whiskey and fell into his bed. For him this was normal, part of being a famous athlete whose life was a public string of one-night stands. It didn’t impact his career, didn’t have people judging him or calling him crude things. It didn’t diminish his legacy.

Could I say the same for myself?

Just as I was starting to get my breathing under control and beginning to feel like I could face people again, the boot room door slammed open.

Of fucking course it was Roy Kent.

His wide eyes blinked several times to adjust to the dark room. When he spotted my curled-up figure leaning against the wall, he closed the door quietly behind him and took a step into the room. With a groan and a crack coming from his knee, he joined me on the floor, like he had in that little shed at the team retreat. Even in the dark, I could see the deep frown etched into his face.

“I am so fucking sorry.” His voice was a quiet rasp. “So, so fucking sorry.” He reached out and touched my hand, somehow looking sadder when I flinched at his touch. “Keeley just told me.”

Oh. That was why he’d been so calm.

He went on. “I… I really don’t know what the fuck to say.” He threw his head back, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know what happened. But Keeley- I- we’ll handle it. We’ll fucking handle it.”

With a sigh, I shook my head. “It’s my own fault,” I whispered. “I made a choice without thinking about the fucking consequences.”

“It’s not your fault.” Roy’s voice was firm. “It’s the fucking press. Fucking vultures,” he spat. His voice turned thoughtful. “Why don’t we get together after work and-”

My pained, hollow laugh stopped him midsentence. “Come on, Roy. I can’t be seen with you. I shouldn’t even be in a dark boot room with you. There’s none of this ‘we’. There can’t be.”

I swore I heard him barely breathe my name in a strangled voice.

“I can’t,” I repeated, softer now. My stomach was in absolute knots; I wasn’t planning on doing this. Not in the fucking boot room, at least. “Roy, I just… I need my face in the papers for being a winning coach, not sleeping with one. And- and, I mean it was great, you were great. But let’s be honest. We both know it was just another one of your flings.” I cleared my throat, face on fire. “And that’s totally your prerogative. I knew what I was getting into. I’m a big girl. Do what you want. Do who you want. You’re a legend here. You can sleep with all the women you want, and they’ll look at you like you’re a fucking god. But me… I mean, if people found out I slept with a coworker…”

“Things are different for you,” he sighed. For once, there wasn’t a hint of venom when he repeated the fact that I so often reminded him of. Instead, there was nothing but sadness. Disappointment. Misery. “No. Yeah. Fuck, I get it.” He looked at me as best he could in the darkness. “You gonna be alright?”

I shrugged. “I have to be, don’t I?”

He nodded. “Guess you do.” His hand twitched, as though he was debating reaching out again. It remained where it was. “Keeley’s got this,” he assured me. “She’s brilliant. And… I’ve got your back. No matter what.” His smile was so sad I swore I could hear my heart crack. “We’re Richmond til we die, alright?”

“Thanks, Kent.”

With that, I stood and walked over to the door, leaving Roy Kent alone on the boot room floor.

Roy sighed and took another sip of his coffee, watching Jamie do burpees, for once taking no pleasure in his former teammate’s ragged breathing and pained expression. For a week now, Bucky had kept true to her word and avoided being around Roy as much as possible. No fighting or screaming, no civility and politeness, and sure as hell no flirting, which he had kind of hoped there would be before these stupid photos. He felt like a fucking ghost as he walked down the halls of Nelson Road.

He glanced at his watch. “Alright, you’re done,” he barked, pulling a water bottle out of Jamie’s backpack that sat on the bench beside him. He handed it to Jamie as he jogged over to Roy.

“Alright, Roy?” He cocked his head. “That was only one hundred and ninety-two. Thought I needed to do two hundred.” When Roy only grunted, Jamie continued. “You’ve looked real distracted lately, mate. Come on. Tell ol’ Jamie what’s up.”

For a moment, Roy just stared at Jamie. This shit had been really eating at him ever since Keeley showed him the pictures… no, since he woke up and found himself alone in his bed and, for once, wishing he wasn’t. He didn’t want to tell Keeley about this, she felt stressed enough about the photos; she didn’t need to also have the weight of Roy’s woes on her shoulders as well. No way could he go to Rebecca, she’d kill him for ruining all the civility they’d finally managed. Beard and Nate didn’t need to be roped into more of their bullshit, they’d been through enough since the Whippets’ arrival. Ted was too far away, and even if Roy could be bothered to call him about this, he didn’t feel like hearing some nonsense story about a childhood friend in Kansas that was only vaguely related to Roy’s problem. His sister would probably roll her eyes and make some comment about him needing to not shit where he ate. Even Doctor Sharon felt like the wrong person to talk to.

That really only left one prickish person for Roy to confide in.

With a grumble, Roy gestured for Jamie to join him on the bench. Once the men were side by side, Roy leaned back, finger tracing the lid of his coffee. “I… the night of the gala… I…”

“Is this about Coach Buck?”

Unable to bring himself to look at Jamie, Roy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.” He took another sip of his coffee, as if the caffeine would somehow calm him down. “I fucking slept with her.”

There. He said it. It was out there, spilled like that bottle of ink Phoebe had dropped on his carpet last week. A big, dark stain hanging in the air between the two Greyhounds.

“Yeah?”

Roy frowned. Jamie didn’t seem shocked at all; if anything, his furrowed brows told Roy that Jamie wasn’t sure what the fuss was all about. “Yeah. I slept with her.” Good, Roy. Say it again. That’ll make Tartt lose that permanent confused expression.

Jamie shrugged. “I mean, obviously. You’ve been sleeping together since, what, the charity game, right? When she gave you some of the money for the doctors and shit?”

“What the fuck?” Now Roy got to be the one with the furrowed brows, accompanied by a mouth gaped in surprise. “No, you twat. Just the one time after the gala.”

It was a good thing the early morning was so dark, because the sight of two football legends gawking at one another on a bench would have drawn most people’s attention. And Roy definitely didn’t need more photos of him floating around.

“But…” Jamie shook his head. “You two’ve been almost nice to each other since the game. Figured you were shagging the entire time.”

Roy’s face twisted in disgust. This was who he chose to confide in? Not for the first time, Roy found himself regretting the fact that his two best friends were his eight-year-old niece and… Jamie Tartt.

Apparently not recognizing the dangerous look on Roy’s face, Jamie pressed on. “So, what’s the problem? You got to shag a beautiful woman who’s like a girl version of you, except much nicer. Shouldn’t you be like bouncing off the walls with excitement or some shit? You’re together now, right?”

A lump formed in Roy’s throat. Fuck. “No,” he finally mumbled. “She… I… We’re keeping our distance.”

Jamie didn’t need to know that she’d broken Roy’s heart. Roy could barely admit it to himself.

“But why?” Jamie looked like a kid whose parents just told him the tooth fairy wasn’t real, with his wide eyes and pouty lips. “You’re soulmates or some shit. Like Kermit and Miss Piggy.”

Roy felt weirdly grateful for Jamie’s idiocy; feeling annoyed was a nice change of pace from everything else he’d been feeling lately.

“Some fucking papp caught us going into my house,” he muttered, staring down at his coffee cup. “And she… I think she got scared. All this stuff about her being a woman coach and her reputation. Asked me to stay away from her.” He shrugged. “So I am.”

Jamie had never looked so serious in the entire time Roy had known him. “Fuck.”

Roy nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

It was a quiet week after that conversation in the boot room. Very quiet. I did my best to ignore the dull stabbing feeling in my chest that appeared every time I thought of those photos, or saw Roy in passing, or even just heard someone say his name. Instead, I focused all my energy on the Whippets. They continued to impress everyone, including myself. They had performed spectacularly so far in the season; even the small handful of losses we suffered were close, exciting games that came down to only one or two goals.

After a particularly grueling practice, Luke and I made our way out of the Dog Track, debating where to get dinner from before settling at my place for an episode of Lust Conquers All. Just as he almost had me convinced that pizza for three days in a row was not childish, I heard a familiar voice call my name. My pulse quickened as I turned around.

“Hi, George!”

George Willows offered me a boyish grin as he approached, hands in his pockets, head slightly dipped. All charm and ease. “How’s it going, Coach?” He gave Lucas a small nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to me. “Whippets are looking great.”

My face warmed at his praise. Or his smile. Maybe both. “They’re a great group of players,” I murmured. “We’re lucky to be their managers.”

Luke threw an arm around my shoulders. “She’s being modest. Which she usually never is,” he added pointedly. “She’s a brilliant coach.”

“Oh, I know.” George kicked the pavement beneath his feet. “Your success should be celebrated. Like maybe with dinner tomorrow night?”

Something caught in my throat. George Willows was asking me out. A nice, handsome man with a normal job and no reputation for getting his picture in the tabloids. Dinner would be lovely. He’d hold my hand and pull out my chair for me. He’d insist on paying for dinner and walking me to my door. He’d probably even ask before kissing me goodnight. There’d be no arguing, no trying to one-up each other, and absolutely no awkwardness.

This was what I wanted- right?

Before I could figure out why the hell George’s offer had me more confused and anxious than thrilled, Lucas spoke for me. “She’s love to,” he assured George, digging his fingers into me. “Wouldn’t ya, Buck?”

Shit. Say something.

“That sounds great!” I finally blurted out. His relieved smile had my shoulders relaxing. “Let’s say six tomorrow? Gives me time to shower and change after training.”

George nodded earnestly, eager as a schoolboy. “Perfect. Text me your address, I’ll pick you up.”

We said our goodbyes, my face feeling noticeably warm, before Lucas and I began our walk home. My eyes stayed fixated on the sidewalk the entire time, not sure what to say to Lucas, and even more unsure why there was a knot in my stomach along with the butterflies George and our date gave me.

“Alright, what gives?” Lucas finally demanded as we settled on the couch with our pizza. “You’ve been drooling over George Willows pretty much since we got to Richmond. Why don’t you look over the moon about your date?”

For a moment, I just stared at my pizza, as if the pepperoni and extra cheese would be able to explain what was up, and I wouldn’t have to say a word. Finally, I realized I had to tell Lucas the one thing I’d planned on taking to my grave.

“I slept with Roy fucking Kent,” I groaned, slouching into the couch and refusing to look at Lucas. “The night of the fucking gala. He invited me in for a drink, we got to talking, and we… you know.”

“Oh shit.”

When I looked at Lucas, his mouth was wide open, and his eyes were fixed on my face. No hint of teasing, laughter, jokes. No lewd comments or “I told you so”.

But only for a moment.

“I mean,” he finally said, “I’m mostly surprised it took so long, honestly. You’ve looked like you’ve wanted to rip each other’s clothes off since the day we arrived.” He cocked his head at me. “Is that why you were hesitant about George? You and Kent are starting something up? Because if I’d known, I never would have-”

“We’re not starting something,” I insisted. “It was a onetime thing. Believe me.” Realizing I wasn’t going to touch my food, I set my plate down on the coffee table. “And there’s more. There’s… pictures.”

In an instant, Lucas was on his feet, fists clenched. “Did he take photos of you?” In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen such rage on his normally friendly face.

“What? Oh, fuck no.” I tugged him back down to the couch, amused and touched by his fiery reaction. “But good to know you’d kick his ass if he did,” I mused. “Some fucking photographer caught us getting into a cab and then getting out at his place,” I explained quickly. “They haven’t been published yet but… I’d rather play it safe.” I shrugged. “I mean, not like we were going to become boyfriend-girlfriend or some shit, right? So, just gotta keep a low profile, stay away from each other, and hope the whole thing goes away.”

“Hmm.” Lucas leaned his head on my shoulder. “Gotta admit, kinda wanted to see you two become Richmond’s hot power couple.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, no. He’s probably already had like three more women in that bed since the gala. It meant nothing to him.” I cleared my throat. “Nothing to me either,” I quickly added. “It was fun, had a good time, but back to business as usual.” I took out my phone and pulled up my text thread with George, already filled with texts between us; not like Roy Kent, who I had zero messages with. “So, I am just going to go on a nice date with a nice man and have a nice time,” I announced, typing my address and telling George I was looking forward to dinner.

“You sure you’re not hung up on this Roy Kent shit?” Lucas asked quietly.

My phone pinged, alerting me to the smiley face George immediately responded with. “Absolutely not.”

The following day flew by in a blur of soccer and workouts and knowing grins from Lucas. Once I’d assured him that I was not hung up on Roy Kent and that I was very interested in George Willows, he was back on board with the whole date thing. He even came over to help me look at outfits, leaving just before six. As I picked out a pair of earrings that would look nice with my black dress, I kept an eye on my phone, figuring George would text to let me know he was outside so I could head on down.

The sound of knocking made me jump. Oh. He’d come to my door to pick me up. I tried to remember the last time that happened; to be fair, I hadn’t even been on a real date since arriving in England.

I put on my earrings as I scurried to the door, feeling my shoulders relax at the sight of George and the bouquet of roses he held.

“Hi,” I breathed, amazed at how comfortable I felt despite the butterflies in my stomach.

“You look beautiful,” was his greeting as he handed me the flowers. “Ready to go?”

I let him hold my hand as we walked down to his car, where he held open the door for me. The conversation during the drive was sparse; just general little chitchat, nothing too complicated. It was nice, easy, mindless. And I liked the way it made me feel.

At the restaurant I felt myself relax even more. George asked me questions about my childhood, my time playing for the U.S. National team, my friendship with Lucas. He was earnest and engaged and interested in every little thing I had to say.

“This is all off the record, right George?” I asked with a smirk over my glass of wine.

“In that case, let me just go ahead and let my editor know I’m canceling my exposé on you,” he teased with a wink, crowding my stomach with more butterflies. He took a bite of his food, watching me carefully. “Glad to know you’re enjoying Richmond. Fucking Kent must be a headache to work with, though.”

My chest tightened, and I was sure George could see my expression completely change. Why did I feel so bothered by his sudden sour tone? He wasn’t exactly wrong; when I first arrived, Roy Kent was fucking headache. We did nothing but argue all the damn time. At best, we’d really only ever been civil. But still…

“Let’s not talk about Roy,” I murmured, fiddling with my fork. “I know you two have this weird thing but… He… We work together, you know? We try to keep things professional.” I cleared my throat, not quite looking at George. “And his Greyhounds have been great to my Whippets since we arrived. So, yeah. Can we not?”

“Hey.” He reached out and touched my free hand. “Sorry. Just, the couple of times I’ve seen you two together, he’s been quite rude to you. But you’re right, the two of you are colleagues. I really respect your professionalism.”

His reassuring smile had me offering a small grin of my own, especially when I looked down at his hand on top of mine. God, it felt so natural, holding hands with George Willows. Just so easy and lovely. I could get used to this, I thought as he gave my hand a squeeze.

I also felt like I could get used to the way he looked at me as we stood in front of my door, with soft eyes and a shy smile. Ask me out again, I mentally implored. Tell me you had a good time and you want to see me again.

He leaned close, eyes flickering to my red lips. “Thanks for a great date,” he murmured, bringing up one hand to cup my face. “Would it be too forward if I…?” He trailed off with raised eyebrows.

My heart fluttered as I closed my eyes and leaned forward to give him his answer. I could feel his smile against my lips and knew he could feel one of my own. It was a small, chaste kiss, one filled with giddiness and anticipation, as if it was just the start of something.

George’s hand lingered on my cheek even after we broke the kiss. “Think we could do this again sometime?”

“Absolutely.” I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his again. “Good night, George.”

“Good night.”

Once my door was closed behind me, I fell to the couch, a content sigh escaping my lips. My first date in goodness knows how long. And it was lovely. Easy, even. And George was wonderful and an absolute gentleman. And the sweet kiss at my front door was something out of a Hallmark movie.

So why the fuck did I fall asleep thinking about Roy Kent and the bottle of scotch we shared?

For two more weeks, Roy stayed away. Two. Miserable. Weeks.

He went through the motions. Trained with Jamie. Worked with the Greyhounds at Nelson Road. Hung out with Phoebe. Coached the girls’ football team. Read. Went to yoga.

And the whole time, he thought about her.

They’d glance at each other in the halls, stand on opposite sides of the room when their teams or coaching staffs were together, and both seemed to look a bit sadder at the sound of each other’s voice. Roy’s only consolation was that she looked almost as melancholy as he did.

Almost.

Every now and then, he’d allow himself to glance at her through the shared window between their offices. And sometimes, he’d see her look at her mobile and smile, a little giddy grin that reminded him of the way she’d looked at him the night of the gala and made his heart twist like the braids he sometimes did for Phoebe.

He was thinking of that smile when he sat with Jamie in some pub, silently staring at the pint in front of him as Jamie went on and on about how proud he was of Sam for perfecting a play they’d spent so much of training working on.

“Roy? Roy? ’re you listening?”

Roy gave his head a shake, clearing his throat. “Fuck’d you say?”

Jamie’s pout was full of pity; Roy wanted to punch that look off his fucking face. “Thinkin’ about her, huh?”

Like there was any point in lying. “Just… I dunno. Feel like everything’s so fucked, ya know?” Roy sighed. “Don’t really know what to do.”

“Why don’t you ask her out?”

Roy stared at Jamie for a moment. “Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you over the last couple of weeks? Or are you actually as stupid as you look?”

“Come on.” Jamie shrugged. “You two never really talked about what happened. Sounds like she thinks it was just a one-night stand. So, ask her on a proper date. Wine an’ dine her! Woo her!” He sipped his pint, savoring the treat his coach’s wallowing had afforded him. “Show her you care about her, for fuck’s sake. Make all this shit worth it. Plus, then if the photos do come out, it’s not a big deal. You’d be a couple, not just some fling. That’s a lot harder to make a scandal out of.”

Fuck. Sometimes, by some miracle worthy of being written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John, Jamie Tartt had a good fucking idea.

Of course. Roy’d been so stupid, letting her linger on this idea that that night didn’t mean something to him. Of course, it meant something to him. Hell, it could even mean everything to him if he let his mind wander to those places he’d been avoiding since they first met.

He’d ask her out. He’d take her on a proper date. He’d tell her how he felt. He’d admit to himself how he felt.

Roy Kent might actually get a happy ending for once in his miserable life.

He walked into Nelson Road feeling lighter than he had in a while. During training he was shockingly affable, joking with his team and offering more praise than usual. He even ignored the smug glances Jamie kept shooting him and the wink the striker offered Roy as the Greyhounds hit the showers after a long, long day.

The Whippets were already finished for the day, so, with the Dog Track quiet and nearly empty, he stuck his head into their coaching office, where Bucky was alone, poring over her playbook. With a deep breath, he softly rapped on the wall.

When she glanced over her shoulder, she actually offered him a smile.

“Hiya, Coach,” she greeted with a polite nod. No coldness, no anger, no awkwardness. It wasn’t the enthusiastic welcome he’d hoped for, but it was definitely an improvement.

Roy cleared his throat. “How’re you?”

With a shrug, she closed her book and turned her chair around to face him. “Fine. Yourself?”

“Yeah. Good, good.” He knocked his fists together absently. “Listen, I was wondering if we could talk? I wanted to know-”

The buzzing of her phone interrupted him. “One sec.” She glanced at the screen; there was smile again. “I’ve gotta go.” She stood, tugging her bag over her shoulder. “But, um, maybe we could chat tomorrow? After our run? I’ve gotta catch up on Lust Conquers All.”

Roy’s heart fucking soared. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” was her soft answer as she took a couple steps closer to the door, closer to Roy. “I mean, it’s been a couple of weeks, and nothing’s been published. I think we can risk running in our own weight room, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yeah. Definitely.” For once, Roy didn’t give a shit if he sounded dumb. “We’ll chat tomorrow then.”

She nodded as she passed by him, still grinning. “Good night, Coach.”

“G’night,” he called after her, smiling at her receding figure.

Fuck yes.

Roy returned to his desk, resisting the urge to whistle as he answered a couple of emails and looked over some new plays Nate had left for him. He felt so damn good as he left the Dog Track that he decided to treat himself to a pint, maybe plan how to ask her out.

I really enjoyed having a drink together. Think we could do that again sometime?

Could I take you out to dinner?

Bucky. I really fucking like you. I’d like to take you out. On a real date.

He parked his car and strolled down the sidewalk, words flittering in and out of his head. With a spring in his limp, he nodded in acknowledgement to the people who smiled at him, as opposed to his usual scowl-and-growl. When he turned the corner to head to the pub he had in mind, he stopped dead in his tracks.

She was right there. Sitting at a little patio table of some restaurant, staring in the opposite direction with a lovely, wistful expression, all alone.

Roy perked up. He should go say hi. Maybe he didn’t have to wait until after their run for that chat. He could walk up to her right now and just blurt it out. Fuck waiting. He’d done enough of that. Could I take you on a date sometime? She was probably with Lucas, who wouldn’t mind if Roy stole her away…

As he took a step in her direction, his stupid heart sank.

Because the universe had a personal grudge against Roy Kent, he had to watch as George fucking Willows walked outside holding two glasses. He stopped at that table, where he bent down and kissed her cheek as he sat beside her. She smiled- that same giddy smile- and leaned close to speak to him. The two of them laughed and shared a kiss, looking like the picture of absolute bliss.

Feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, Roy turned on his heel and speed-walked back towards his car. Fucking idiot. Stupid, fucking Roy.

His phone buzzed. With a groan, he pulled it out, figuring it was his sister needing emergency baby-sitting, or Jamie sending him some stupid meme.

Instead, it was a message from Rebecca with a picture attached.

My office. First thing tomorrow.

We need to talk.

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator@reading-blogs@callmecasey81@ladygrey03@puckyou-forpuckssake@royalestrellas@shineforever19 @rae4725 @burnafter-reading @her-fandom-sanctum @infinetlyforgotten@giggling-sewer-ginger@whataloadofmalarkey@agentstarkid@kingleahhh@tortilla-maria1@geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro@spicyraccoonlordking@spaghetti-dad187@needlesthreadandbuttons@elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway@djskakakaksjsj-blog@thatonedogwithablog@allthetroubleiveseen@sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life@jill2629-blog@itsbuzzfeedbitch@pretzelactivist@amieinghigh@kashee-h@beingalive1@mythicalbinicorn@needyomega@kno-way-home@janalustare@sssatorus@its-a-rich-mans-world@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@hesitant-alien33@katie-sheep-111 @bonesbonesetc @seacactusplant@thebookwormlife @dreamscape22 @rae4725 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @littleesilvia @anonurs @itswhateveripromise

#roy kent something there #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic

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atmilliways · 1 year ago

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Wrong On The Money (38-39)

part 38 & 39 of ?? | 921 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

During the break, while Steve ducks into the kitchen, Margaret gestures for Eddie to lean her way and he graciously lends an ear. “How the hell,” she murmurs with a faint smirk, “did this dweeb ever convince anyone he was cool?”

Margaret chapter! Did I make her a student at my alma mater? Yes. Was the unofficial school motto while I was there 'queer in a year or a money back'? Also yes. Was that also true in the late '80s? No damn clue, but let me have this.

38.

During the break, while Steve ducks into the kitchen, Margaret gestures for Eddie to lean her way and he graciously lends an ear.

“How the hell,” she murmurs with a faint smirk, “did this dweeb ever convince anyone he was cool?”

“He has his moments,” Eddie mutters, remembering Steve poised to dive shirtless into Lovers Lake. Ripping a bat in half and spitting a mouthful of dark blood onto the cracked lake bed in the Upside Down. Poised with an ax over one shoulder telling him (and Dustin, directing it at him, like Steve somehow knew even before he did) not to be a hero.

Sometimes he dreams about Steve giving him mouth to mouth, but he’s not sure if that’s an actual memory or because Dustin told him it happened.

“Earth to Eddie,” Margaret singsongs, definitely smirking now. “I know he saved you from some sort of freaky coyote attack or whatever—” a baffling comment, until he remembers the official cover story “—but stop drooling.”

He flushes instantly, flooding with panic at the idea of being so obvious. Can everyone see it written across his face? Can Steve?! “I wasn’t—”

“Dude, I go to Sarah Lawrence,” she interrupts, as if he knows anything about colleges or what that particular school has to do with anything. “I’ve seen some of the guys in my dorm do the same thing over guys like that, trust me.”

“Oh. Okay,” Eddie says blankly.

His instinct, of course, is still to panic. And wonder if he can jump through the nearest window hard enough to defenestrate himself and hit the ground running, rather than bounce off the glass like a baby bird. But it’s Margaret, one of his oldest friends after Jeff. She’s always been sardonic—and college seems to have cranked that up past eleven, somehow—but there’s acceptance in her words, too. As casual as seeing a cat and commenting that, hey, there’s a cat. Eddie is drooling over a guy. Eddie is gay. Like that's that, no big deal.

But . . . does have to be? It wasn't with Jeff. Or with Wayne. Or, somehow, with Steve.

“. . . Maybe I should visit you in New York sometime,” he says finally, unsure of how long he'd been lost in thought.

Rolling her eyes, Margaret all but punches him in the arm. “You’d better. Come for Halloween. We'll take the train into the city, it’ll blow your mind.” She glances towards the kitchen. “Bring Steve, if he doesn’t mind getting hit on. Lots of people like pretty dweebs.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, remembering Steve’s clubbing outfit even as his stomach twists around a stab of jealousy. Yeah, somehow he doesn’t think Steve would mind the attention, but. . . . Nope, no thank you, don’t like that and won’t be looking too closely at why, here there be dragons—big, scary, doomed to be unrequited ones.

39.

By the end of the session, actual cheers break out when the dice settles and a stroke of Sir Anton’s broadsword ends the final battle in one swift, fatal blow. Eddie narrates the creature’s head falling from atop its shoulders and rolling messily across the cavern floor. Will grabs Steve by the shoulder and gives him an enthusiastic ‘I knew you could do it’ shake. Lucas leans across the table for a high five, which Dustin insists on copying. Even Gareth gets in a whoop of victory while drumming on the edge of the table.

And Steve looks pleased with himself, grinning wider than Eddie has seen him all day. He’s modest about it—the creature was already dying, but he’d insisted on cutting off the heads just in case.

His instincts were good, too. There’s a whole page of notes that Eddie doesn’t get to use now, but he doesn’t even care; it’s worth it to see Steve smiling like this, happy at being included.

There’s an edge of surprise to it though, which Eddie turns over and over in his head all through cleaning up. His friends go home or to their respective motels (or in Gareth’s case at the moment, both), and Steve disappears for a while to drive the gremlins home.

And yeah. That surprise. He’d seen it flare up again and again throughout the campaign. It's more a simple revelation that Steve was having more fun than he’d expected. It had cropped up whenever anyone had acknowledged him as an valued part of the party . . . aside from the many times he’d looked like a droopy-eyed deer in the headlights and deferred to Will for help.

Which, yes, okay, usually Eddie might have found that irritating. But as he’d hissed under his breath to Gareth once and Frank thrice, Steve had saved his life. If the guy wanted to outsource remembering his stats to a younger, smarter mind after all those concussions, he could go right ahead. (Besides, every time had Will sitting up straighter than Eddie had ever seen him, and he has a feeling that Steve had a lot to do with that.)

. . . Not the point.

The point is, where had that surprise been when Eddie had blackmailed him? When Eddie had demanded interest?

It’s one thing for Steve to be surprised about nerds accepting him. But the utter lack of popular-kid expectation that no one could touch him, of consequences being things that happened to other people? That’s weird. If Eddie didn’t know any better he’d think Steve thought he deserved it or something.

But that’s nuts, right? No way. That couldn’t. . . .

That wouldn’t make any sense, right?

#he's getting sooooo close #steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson #hellfire club #steve harrington #margaret is a character i made up but i love and support her in all her endeavors

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etherealising · 1 year ago

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wow i’m early? this is crazy!

a bit sad you’re so early, what am i gonna look forward to now? : (

this was such a beautiful chapter, and while it hurt like hell it is one of my favorites. you write every word with such intention, and it truly doesn’t go unnoticed. you also continue to handle such heavy themes with a realness and grace that is so incredible. just all around in awe of your talent.

stop!!! this is so kind it’s crazy what stringing a few words together can do (like it’s obviously more than that but that’s how i feel sometimes) i’m just so happy i have people like you to share it with it just makes it all the more meaningful! 🩵

okay so yeah! once again you’ve found a way to make the heartbreaking scenes of the show hurt just that much more! this is also an impressive feat in that you continue to nail carmys tone (which i can imagine is incredibly difficult) and write lines that flow into the actual script without it feeling disjointed.

writing this man is so fucking stressful like why is it so hard but like also please pay these fucking writers because this shit is not easy AND THEY PUT THEY FOOT IN IT EVERY SINGLE TIME! (not that i’m comparing my fic to screenwriting lol)

“Carmy left the meeting hoping Claire didn’t call the number he gave her, hoping that you would be open to rekindling whatever relationship was left between you two.”

carmy left the meeting with 2 less brain cells than he arrived with if he really thinks that dumb shit isn’t going to come back around

he’s just a smidge delulu

“Chef Luca?”

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUTTHEFUCKUP!!! i love that you just keep throwing fuel on the jealous carmy fire

it’s what we deserve!

“Yeah, he taught me the simple syr-.”

OH MY GOD YES!!! i’m geeking so hard about this right now!!!! you planted the seeds of jealousy for this and now they are starting to sprout and it’s even better than i was anticipating.

i have this hc that luca and baby get along swimmingly because they both wanted to fuck carmy so bad 🤭

“he was now sure more than ever that there was a chance to fix things with you.”

this is so famous last words - sorry carmy you haven’t done enough groveling yet my luv<3

legit like no groveling and he thinks everything will just go back to normal

“I can assure you Carmy would not give a single fuck if you touched my breast, Neil.”

and i can assure you that carmy would give many MANY fucks

bestie poo was fuming as he listened to that convo

“I’m not doing this because I want to Baby.” Nat’s voice took on a gravelly tone.”

oof this line hurts for so many reasons - nat is probably living with the same ‘would’ve could’ve shouldve’ that baby is and feels even more pressure to help keep baby clean than she would’ve otherwise. and on the other hand, this has gotta sting for baby too - a brutal reminder of how much her actions are weighing on nat. it’s just a sharp knife for everyone involved.

right. because at the end of the day these two were first and foremost friends and while that friendship is still there, they’re both now in such a compromised situation because of what happened. i also think Natalie feels like she’s the only one who can help baby because she was there through it all and as much as she wants baby to be honest with everyone else in her life its not something she’s willing to force on her, but nat def needs to be a little selfish sometimes.

“If it’s important they’ll leave a voicemail.”

that is a not fun parallel. baby is going to have trauma around vociemails for the rest of eternity.

this parallel was actually so unintentional but that trauma is definitely there.

“Yeah…fuckng bizarre.” You could feel the lump forming in your throat.”

this sucks but also i’m glad it’s blowing up right in front of his face, maybe it’ll actually solidify the lesson he so desperately needs to learn. but also youch!! not baby getting thrown back to her senior year insecurities and wingwoman status.

right like baby has been so good at hiding how his actions affect her but now that it’s happening in real time he deserves to see what he has constantly done to her. i know our poor baby being relegated to second best once again

“You’re too sweet. You know how it is people change, they grow apart. I just think Carmy outgrew me.” It was becoming harder and harder to swallow your tears.”

ugh i love you - the way that she’s speaking to carmy through speaking to claire? iconic and heartbreaking.

it physically pained me to write ‘i just think carmy outgrew me’ because not only is carmy getting a look into how baby feels, she’s also accepting the fact that its the reality of their relationship at this point.

“Why are you the way you are?”

this is so serious but i am laughing so hard

no same i immediately burst out laughing whenever i see this line i can’t explain it. like do you know how tired someone has to be of your shit to say that to you?

“Carmen I have lost pieces of u- of myself to you, Carmen.”

oh shit, so he doesn’t even know about the baby? i’m not even shocked because it’s so on brand, but yikes is their web getting beyond tangled.

clueless carmy strikes again!

“I’m a hypocrite, Rich,” you separated yourself from him, locking eyes. “I blamed Carmy for so much out there…but I’ve done something so unforgivable, I don’t think you’ll look at me the same.”

my mind is feeling with all the possibilities of what happened with the baby. did she not know about the pregnancy and lost it in the overdose or from drug usage? did she lose the pregnancy to miscarriage and then fall into drugs from the combined trauma? did she get an abortion that she’s regretting? there’s so many ways that this could’ve gone down and all of them are equally harrowing. my heart is absolutely breaking for her, she shouldn’t have to carry this guilt - alone nonetheless.

the final reveal will be a lot…i don’t even wanna think about it, i can assure though that it is the tamest option of the bunch.

“There were two things in the world Richie didn’t play about, little Eva; and you.”

I LOVE THIS.

ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVORITE LINES TO WRITE!

“While Richie was crying over the sister he almost lost; you cried over the lives you ruined”

i just, truly have no words. this is so haunting and well written.

i love these two with my entire being.

“What purpose did he have if he couldn’t even keep his last promise to Mikey?”

don’t even start with me rn

i just like making all of us suffer apparently

“The journal began as a way for him to express what he felt for you, but as the months went on and the writing became a part of his routine they turned into letters to you he’d never have the guts to send”

this journal might end up being his saving grace.

boys lucky he sentimental

chapter six | didn’t i do it for you?

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader | platonic!natalie berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!neil fak x fem!reader

summary: carmy knows exactly what he wants regarding you, but past mistakes always come to rear their ugly heads

wc: 10.9k

a/n: hi lovies, this chapter may be a bit heavier than previous ones so please take the warnings extra seriously. if you are triggered by any warning please do not read this chapter i’ll literally message you a summary of the chapter if you need it. i may have missed some warnings so if that’s the case i do apologize it was not intentional. lastly please remember YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA COSUMPTION….enjoy 🩵

“You know, I-I don’t think my family meant to ruin it or anything like that, you know.”

Carmy was trying to be better, to be more open. And it was easiest at these Al-Anon meetings, no one knew him, and no one had any expectations of him.

“I-I don’t think they did it on purpose,” his hand subconsciously raised to the chain securely tucked under his crew neck, rubbing the metal through the fabric.

“I don-it’s not fair to blame them for everything,” a sardonic huff of laughter escaped Carmy as he thought of the words he was going to say. “I uh…I had a friend once…a best friend.”

“She was the first thing in life that I felt belonged to me,” Carmy frowned, having trouble articulating what he wanted to say. “And not li- I didn’t own her or anything, but she was my friend because she chose to be, not because she knew me through Mikey.”

“And then I…I fucked that relationship up myself…uhh and as I sat there trying to think of what provided amusement or joy in my life…I just thought of my childhood spent with her…by my side.” He cleared his throat forcing himself to remember that he would probably never interact with any of these people outside of these meetings.

Carmy’s hand dropped from its place where his covered chain sat, now gripping the armchair. “She’s uh she’s back in my life now and I…I want those things with her again I…I want to fix things with her, be the person she believes I am.”

Sydney’s curiosity the other day gave Carmy a lot to think about. He was so accustomed to looking at the picture above his stove daily, that he hadn’t even given it a second thought when he invited Sydney over. Her curiosity was understandable, the interactions you and Carmy shared hadn’t been the warmest but that Polaroid would suggest otherwise.

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to be here.” Carmy sat straighter in his chair, if he could admit his wants albeit vaguely to a room of strangers, he could admit his feelings to you. “Thank you, guys. Thanks for letting me share.”

Then he saw you at the grocery store, comfortable in someone else’s arms. He wasn’t jealous, or at least he didn’t think he was. But reality slapped him in the face, so sure of himself that the two of you could pick up where you left off he didn’t stop to think that maybe you didn’t want that anymore.

And then like the idiot he was, he gave Claire your number. He wanted to believe it wasn’t on purpose, that he had memorized your number so well it was the first he thought of when asked.

Carmy left the meeting hoping Claire didn’t call the number he gave her, hoping that you would be open to rekindling whatever relationship was left between you two.

Your morning was off to a great start. Hayden surprised you with breakfast at the office and signed off on your article for The Bear as long as it didn’t get in the way of your work at The Tribune. The two of you even brainstormed the best way to go about telling the story.

Since your late-night grocery run with Hayden, the two of you had fallen back into the friendship you developed all those years ago. It felt good to be reconnected with him, and thankfully things weren’t awkward considering your past sexual history.

Neither of you admitted to it, but you both knew the opportunity to fall back into your old ways would soon present itself, you weren’t sure if it was an option you would take advantage of though. The two of you weren’t in college anymore and as pathetic as it sounded since your vulnerable conversation with Carmy the other day, your heart still held out hope that the two of you could build up the foundation for a romantic relationship.

Rounding the corner of Orleans Street you finally made it to your destination, happy to have taken in the fresh air mid-morning had to offer. You approached the door to the restaurant hoping someone would hear your knock and let you in.

You smiled as Sydney opened the door moving back to allow you in, you reached up to slide your headphones off as you greeted both her and Carmy.

“Good morning, is Nat in?” The text you received on the train ride over from the oldest Berzatto was pushed to the back of your mind until now.

The urgent ‘we need to talk,’ text had worried you at first, but you had rationalized that Nat could’ve been referring to anything.

“Uh yeah, she’s in the office.” You nodded at Syd giving her a small smile in thanks before turning to make your way to the back.

“Oh hey, do you like have a second or…” You stopped in your tracks turning back to face the two chefs looking between them curiously before nodding once more.

You smiled waiting for one of them to speak, “Uh yeah can we make this quick though I need to speak with Nat.” You did your best to sound nonchalant, the longer you stood out here the more your anxiety began to rise, mind racing with what Nat needed to speak with you about.

“Yeah yeah of course,” Sydney stepped away from the door moving near Carmy who had remained silent since your entrance. “We were thinking of sending Marcus to Copenhagen and I know you stayed there, not like in a weird way but because I read your articles you know.”

You nodded your head eyebrows raised as a signal for Sydney to continue. You did your best to ignore Carmy’s stare while Syd rambled on about their idea and how the trip would help to inspire Marcus.

“…So we were wondering if you had any suggestions?” Her raised eyebrows stared back at you.

“Sorry suggestions for what?” The confusion was easily readable on your face, Syd’s excitement at the prospect overwhelmed you.

You watched as the two chefs stared at you, Carmy’s signature blank stare and Syd’s slightly hurt reaction that you weren’t paying attention.

“Oh uh for accommodations…in Copenhagen.”

The question surprised you, eyes darting to Carmy before focusing back on Sydney. You knew Carmen spent time in Copenhagen, so the fact that they were asking you for suggestions seemed a bit redundant.

Albeit stunned by the questions you smiled moving towards where the two of them were sitting, memories of your month spent in Copenhagen playing in your mind like a movie. The trip was months before Mikey’s passing and now as you think about it, it felt like that was the last time you had fun, and lived life without the worry that so often filled you now.

A chuckle left your lips as you leaned against the counter looking from Syd to Carmy, “I uh I stayed with the chef I was profiling.” You bit your lip trying to contain the grin threatening to split your lips, “I still have his number I could call him if you want. He kind of owes me a favor anyway.”

Carmy’s arms fashioned themselves across his chest, a frown pulling at his eyebrows. There was so much he didn’t know about you including the fact that you had spent time in Europe with some mystery chef.

“Oh yeah? What uh-who was the chef you wrote about? Maybe I know him.” Carmy’s words surprised you, the look you exchanged with Sydney proved that he didn't come across as casual as he was trying to.

You raised from your position against the counter, “Chef Luca?” Your voice trailed off a bit before the smile you were trying to contain finally made its appearance, “He’s this amazing pastry chef, who’s so passionate about his craft it was like watching a master at work!”

Carmy watched as you gushed about his former colleague, annoyance clawing at his throat as he took notice of just how happy the memories made you.

“Luca even taught me how to make this crazy dessert he was still perfecting, I mean mine was nothing compared to his but it was honestly the most fun I’d had in so long.” You reminisced about your time spent with Luca, “Oh, and my peach cobbler? Yeah, he taught me the simple syr-.”

“No yeah, I’m familiar with him.” Both you and Sydney were pulled from your animated conversation; the tight smile on Carmy’s face alerted you of his irritation.

You nodded, feeling a little bad at your rambling, “Okay well I’ll just go see Nat now, let me know if you need me to make that call.” You drummed your hands against the counter before turning around to take your leave.

“Hey uh, Baby?” You turned your head before disappearing around the corner eyebrows raised as you looked at Carmy. “Do you think we could maybe talk later?” You watched as his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck.

Sydney watched the interaction play out between the two of you, a small smirk lining her lips as she watched how flustered Carmy got just by asking you a simple question.

Your lips tugged up into a small smile, “Sure thing Carm, I’ll come back when I’m done with Nat.”

Carmy was sure his heart was beating so loud Sydney could hear it, the nickname something he hadn’t heard spilled from your lips in so long. The small smile he briefly caught did wonders for his already lacking confidence, he was now sure more than ever that there was a chance to fix things with you.

You entered the office to see Natalie pouring over documents presumably to do with permits and money in regards to the restaurant. You took a step forward momentarily stopping at Nat’s voice.

“Close and lock the door behind you please,” The lack of eye contact was grating on your nerves, either Natalie was completely stressed about her role as project manager or you had yet again colossally fucked up.

You did as told not wanting to further irritate your very pregnant friend. The office was silent neither of you spoke up as Natalie finished looking over the latest paper she had picked up.

She looked exhausted and you felt horrible knowing you had potentially added more stress onto her already-loaded plate. Nat gave you a small smile though her eyes looked anything but happy.

“Cortez called me this morning,” Nat’s eyebrows raised as she pointedly stared at you. Your head fell back against the door a quiet ‘fuck’ mumbled into the air. “Said this was the third meeting you missed.”

Nat waited for you to return your attention to her, “I’m only going to ask you this once Baby, and I really need you to be honest with me.” Nat leaned forward in the chair, closing a bit of the space between you so you would hear her quiet voice, “Are you using again?”

You sighed leave it to Cortez to fucking snitch you out, you didn’t realize that being a snitch was a requirement if you were someone’s sponsor.

“Baby?” Your eyes connected with Nat’s the softness of her voice and the watery appearance in her eyes told you just how worried she was.

Your head shook back and forth rapidly as you raised your hand to massage your temples, “I’m not using Nat I promise. And I know that means jack shit coming from an addict but I promise I’m doing good.” You took a deep breath calming your budding agitation, you knew Nat was worried and it wasn’t her that you were annoyed at but yourself.

“I uh…I’ve been stuck on step eight since I joined this whole rebranding project, and I…I knew that Cortez would be persistent in me getting it done.” You grimaced at the fact that you had already missed three meetings, you hadn’t realized how far things had gotten, “It’s just things felt normal again and I guess I thought I could just pretend like everything was okay.”

Natalie nodded as she listened to your explanation, she hated it but there was always a part of her that would be apprehensive. She had seen the manipulation substance abuse breeds firsthand when she stayed with you in the hospital after your overdose, it hurt her to see you hurting. To sit back and watch as the withdrawal symptoms ate away at you as you would fiend for a fix that you took your pain out on her and Pete.

Nat quickly turned to where her purse was sitting pulling out a box the two of you were all too familiar with.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Your face scrunched up in anger, the emotion slowly residing as you watched Nat close her eyes and take a deep breath in. You felt like a complete asshole you knew Nat wasn’t doing this of her own volition and you had no one to blame but yourself for the predicament you were now in.

“Nat shit, I’m sorry you didn’t deserve that. But you really can’t expect me to take that here.” Your hand thrust out to the box that seemed to be taunting you.

“Baby you know the rules. I don’t like this as much anymore than you but when you just decide you don’t need to meet with your sponsor anymore, these are the measures we have to resort to.”

“Lead the way, Mom.” Natalie let out a small chuckle at your antics, thankful that you were being somewhat logical, “Wait is there a bag we can throw this away in, we can’t just leave the evidence in the bathroom.” The two of you turned to search through the office sure you would find a stray plastic bag lying somewhere.

You popped up, a plastic baggie securely in your grasp, “Does the toilet even work?” Nat shrugged, walking past you and making her way to the bathroom leaving you to follow behind.

“Aww yeah, party in the bathroom! Am I invited?” Nat stopped as Fak stood in front of the two of you hastily moving the bag behind her back doing her best to be inconspicuous.

“Sorry my love girls only, maybe next time,” Nat gave Fak a pat on the shoulder and her signature smile before maneuvering the two of you around him.

“Wait, is it that time of the month for us? Cause I think our cycles might be synced, I’ve been having the most insane cramps lately.” The words that left Fak’s mouth would never cease to surprise you.

“You know, I think you might be right Fak, my lower back has been killing me.” You indulged in Fak’s shenanigans, the man falling in line to walk with you as the two of you followed Natalie to the front.

Fak nodded along with you “No I’m like feeling it, should I invest in a heating pad?”

You snickered at Fak, “I usually just fill up a sock with rice and throw it in the microwave.” You shrugged like the conversation was a completely normal occurrence. “The first day is always the worst for me, my breasts get so tender.”

Fak raised his own hands to his chest cupping his pecs “Baby tell me about it, it’s just like one touch and I’m crying.” You could see Carmy’s confused look from your peripheral as your group finally made it to the bathroom.

“I could totally massage your breast Fak, but you would have to return the favor. It's only fair if you’re a part of the sisterhood.” You watched as Fak nodded his head rapidly, hands raising in the air and hovering in front of your breast.

“Wait, is this an actual thing?”

“Oh yeah me and Nat do it all the time, that’s actually why we’re going to the bathroom now.” Fak’s eyes darted to Nat before looking back at his hands inching closer to your breast.

“Wait no, I don’t want Carmy to be mad at me.” The two of you looked in Carmy’s direction, the man still watching just as confused as earlier.

You shrugged before turning back to Fak, “I can assure you Carmy would not give a single fuck if you touched my breast, Neil.”

The aforementioned man took in a gasp of breath before clearing his throat and slowly moving down the counter to get a better listen at what the hell the two of you were doing.

You, Nat, and Carmy waited to see what Fak’s next move would be, the smile raising to your face hard to keep under wraps, Fak was adorably easy to mess with.

Fak’s hands began to inch forward concentration clear as day on his face before a small shriek left his lips, “Baby I’m sorry, Carmy’s my best friend, I don’t think I can do this for you.”

You laughed at the disappointment in Fak’s voice, “Your loss babes, I know 16-year-old Fak would’ve killed for this moment.” Your hand raised to pat his cheek before you finally left his side and entered the bathroom as Nat held the door open for you.

“She was lying to you my love, we don’t massage each other's breasts.” With those last words, Nat shut the door on a disappointed Fak and a mildly annoyed Carmy.

Fak turned back to look at Carmy with an apology in his eyes, “I’m so sorry Carmy, teenage Fak was really fighting to come out right now but I know Baby’s your girl.”

Carmy frowned at Fak’s words, the irritation running through him at yours and Fak’s stupid antics. “She’s uh…she’s not my girl. Baby and I are just friends.”

Fak smiled widely in Carmy’s direction, “That’s great, you really should think about getting a girlfriend then, I just want you to be happy Carmy.” Fak began walking to the back to help move the appliances. Carmy let out a chuckle as he heard Fak mumble about missing his once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Carmy shook his head back and forth, having you back really was just like old times. He wouldn’t ever say anything out loud but Carmy was actually really glad he didn’t have to stand there and watch Fak fondle you.

“Pete said the two of you have a lunch date planned.” Your head shot up to Nat, the air had been a little stilted between the two of you since she had brandished the drug test.

A laugh bubbled out of you, “Doesn’t seem like the proper environment for a casual chat Nat.” You gestured to the dinghy bathroom you were in, emphasizing the urine sample sitting on the sink while the two of you awaited the results.

You watched the smile rise to Natalie’s lips, a somber look overcast on her face, “I’m not doing this because I want to Baby.” Nat’s voice took on a gravelly tone.

Natalie didn’t deserve this, she had already basically nursed you back to health once. And now here she and Pete were about to bring a life into this world, and here you were a grown adult still expecting everyone else to fix your problems. You knew Natalie didn’t need the stress and worry your life choices brought forth and if your overdose wasn’t a wake-up call enough, then Nat’s haggard appearance as you two stood in the bathroom sure was.

“I know and I apologize Nat. Really livin' up to my nickname aren’t I?” Nat chuckled listening to your apology. “There’s no excuse for my behavior. I know what’s expected of me I-”

Your words were cut off by the shrill ringing of your phone. The noise caused the two of you to jolt in the small bathroom. You quickly removed the device from your back pocket, it was a Chicago area code, but you already had everyone you knew here saved in your contacts.

“You gonna answer that?” Your eyes flashed to Nat, her eyebrows raised in question.

You took one last glance at the number trying to place it before clicking the power button and slipping it back into your pocket, “If it’s important they’ll leave a voicemail.”

“Anyway, I shouldn’t constantly depend on you to clean up my messes Nat, I don’t think I’ve been the best friend recently. And it should be you depending on me considering,” you waved your hand over her figure scared that if you spoke the word someone might hear. “I promise to do better Nat, I want to be around to help with the little gremlin.”

Nat raised her hand to wipe the few tears that were falling, making her way over to pull you into an embrace, “These damn hormones make me so emotional.”

You chuckled rubbing up and down Natalie’s back, “You’d be crying even if you weren’t compromised.”

The hug lasted up until the timer on Nat’s phone sounded, signaling the results were ready. The two of you pulled apart, with Nat sending you a reassuring smile.

It didn’t matter if you knew you hadn’t touched any substances since your hospitalization, you would always be nervous when it was time to read off the results. You waited with bated breath as Nat read over the testing stick, you would set up a meeting with Cortez as soon as you got the chance.

The sigh of relief Natalie let out stung you a bit, but you could understand her apprehension it wasn’t easy trusting a recovering addict.

“It’s negative Babes.” A sigh of relief left you.

A wide grin raising to your lips, “I told you so.” Nat rolled her eyes at the sing-song sound of your voice.

The two of you made quick work of cleaning up the bathroom, small talk about your future lunch with Pete floating around as you made sure all evidence was disposed of in the plastic bag.

Carmy watched as Sugar exited the bathroom the same drugstore bag from earlier in her hand. He sent a nod in her direction as she smiled at him before making her leave. Carmy was set to meet up with Syd in 30 minutes but he was hoping to speak with you before he took his leave, unsure if you would still be here later.

He returned his attention to the calendars with the timeline to open, checking off things that had already been taken care of and adding anything he wanted to double-check.

“You free to talk now, Carm?” He turned at the sound of your voice, a shy smile lining his cheeks as he took in the smile on your lips.

“Uh yeah, yeah if you’re free,” You nodded, coming to stand across from Carmy the old counter directly between you two.

Carmy’s eyes took in the sweater you were wearing, similar to the style in his but while his was a nice grey color, yours was a deep green. The familiarity of the crew neck finally dawned on him as he realized it was his crew neck you were wearing, the last time he saw it was the night he left you in his apartment all those months ago expecting to still see you there when he returned home.

It was silent as the two of you stared at each other, a giggle escaped your lips at the lost look on Carmy’s face. “What’d you wanna talk about Carmy?”

Carmy nodded trying to remove the memories from his mind, “I uh…I know I ruined our friendship and…and whatever was left of it.” He paused, eyes falling to the crew neck carefully wrapped around you, the memory of watching you get dressed after the shower you shared swimming around in his head, the extra pictures of the two of you tucked safely into his bedside drawer.

“Carm hey,” he watched as your knuckles knocked against the counter to bring him back to the present time.

“Yeah, I uh I just have a lot I think we should talk about Baby, and maybe the restaurant wasn’t the best place for it.” He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, nerves running haywire.

You nodded a serious look painted on your face, you were sure you knew what Carmen wanted to speak about but you also had secrets of your own you wanted to share with him.

“I…I want us to try and be friends again or at least be cordial with each other…if that’s not too much to ask.” Carmy huffs out a breath of laughter, eyes latching onto your figure in front of him.

He watches as you appear to be thinking, most likely retracing the path of your relationship through the years memories running through your head that he has absolutely no idea exists.

“Carmy, you’ve never not been my friend but a lot of your choices hurt m-.” Your phone rang again echoing off the walls in the front of the restaurant.

You gave Carmy a small smile before removing your phone, the number that’s calling you is the same one that called while you were in the bathroom with Nat earlier. You raise your finger to Carmy, gesturing that you need to take the call.

“Hello.” You wait as the other line stays quiet.

“Baby?”

You frown looking up at Carmy as he watches you hoping your call ends soon, “Uh I’m sorry who is this?”

“Oh, it’s me, uh…Claire. We lived down the street from each other as kids?” A gasp escaped your lips, surprised that she was calling you.

You move the phone from your mouth. Hand moving up to cover it as your eyes find Carmy’s “It’s Claire.” Your whisper takes a moment to register in his ears, too caught up in the bright smile on your face.

“Wow, it's so good to hear from you. Um, I hope I don’t sound rude but how exactly did you get my number?” You watched as Carmy ran a hand across his mouth, eyes wide your name slipped past his lips the dire need to get you off that call racing through him.

You held your finger up to him signaling to give you a moment, too wrapped up in miraculously connecting with an old friend.

“Oh um, this is going to sound weird. I uh…I ran into Carmy the other night at the grocery store and when I asked him for his number…this is the number he gave me.” You listened as Claire spoke, the smile quickly disappearing from your lips as your eyes found Carmy’s alarmed ones.

“Carmen gave you my number?” You watched the regret flash through his eyes.

“Mhm.”

“And claimed it was his?”

“Uh kinda yeah, it’s a bit weird but maybe he was just planning to call you or something.” A small laugh left your lips, if he hadn’t called you since he last saw you, you could bet he had no plans to ever call you.

“Yeah…fuckng bizarre.” You could feel the lump forming in your throat.

“Sorry if this is weird but do you think you could give me his number?” It felt like senior year all over again and you were the bridge between these two souls

An ironic smile rose to your lips as you stared directly at Carmy, the panic glaringly obvious in his eyes because he couldn’t hear Claire’s responses.

“Oh, Claire Bear I’m so sorry I haven’t spoken to Carmy in what’s it been?” You paused your glare on Carmy impenetrable.

“Five years, since high school graduation. I don’t even have his number.” The crack in your voice was evident to all who could hear, Carmy wished he could disappear at that moment.

“Oh no, is everything okay with you two?”

“You’re too sweet. You know how it is people change, they grow apart. I just think Carmy outgrew me.” It was becoming harder and harder to swallow your tears.

“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that Baby. But I heard you're back in Chicago, maybe we can catch up?”

“Claire I’d love that, hey before you go try Fak for Carmy’s number I’ve heard they’re extremely close now, have a great rest of your day!” You listened as Claire said her goodbyes quickly, hanging up and placing your phone back in its designated pocket.

It was silent as you raised your head to the ceiling, a disbelieving laugh escaped your lips as you felt the tears trace down your cheeks. You were getting fucking tired of crying.

“Baby hey, hey let me exp-,” Carmy’s pleas were cut short as both of your eyes shot to his now ringing phone on the counter. Neither of you needed to be a fucking genius to figure out who was ringing Carmy’s line.

“Answer quickly Carmen, your little girlfriend is calling.” You knew it was petty and you shouldn’t be upset with Claire for chasing after what she wanted, but for once you didn’t want to be the one fighting for scraps of Carmy’s affection.

You didn’t want to have to share.

His hand quickly shot out pressing the power button on the side silencing the ringing, taking the extra step and turning it face down as he watched you just stare at it.

“Baby I-,”

“Why are you the way you are?” You were tired of putting Carmy and his feelings ahead of yourself, tired of running yourself ragged to accommodate your feelings for a grown man who was too scared of the truth.

“I-” You took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. “I’m so hurt right now Carmen and I want to be angry, I want to be so fucking angry with you but I’m just hurt and exhausted, and I…I really don’t even want to waste my breath on you right now, but I’ve put up with a lot of your shit and I think I’m just done.” Carmy flinched at the sardonic laugh you let loose.

“It hurts Carmen…it hurts when the person you’ve been truly in love with for most of your life doesn’t even treat you like an option.” You ignored the sharp intake of breath that came from Carmen’s direction, surprised he even had the guts to listen to your rant.

The ringing in his ears along with your broken voice overwhelmed him.

“I have lived so much of my life for you and yeah I was stupid for that, but all I wanted was your happiness and all I wanted was happiness with you. I have given so much of myself to you Carmen I have lost pieces of u- of myself to you, Carmen.” The tears were raining down in full force.

It was one thing to cry when you were hurt but to cry out of anger and exhaustion would probably always be the worst feeling.

“All I wanted was for you to love me the way I loved you…the way I will continue loving you after today because the way I feel for you won’t just go away Carmen it will be stuck with me forever! What I lost to you will be stuck with me forever! And…and we spend this amazing weekend together and I accept that you can’t commit to me and I give you the benefit of the doubt because Mikey just died and you…fuck.” Your hand slammed against the counter top your thoughts all over the place.

“You take my number that you’ve had for a year and you give it to some girl that you had some stupid pathetic high school fucking crush on. I’m not even worth a fucking phone call to you Carmen! And I…I’m not even supposed to be here right now but you wouldn’t fucking know because your too much of a fucking coward to allow yourself to be loved to be happy!”

You could feel the oncoming migraine from how loud you were shouting, you did your best to ignore the gathering crowd, Nat and Richie at the forefront watching with worried glances, as Marcus Fak and the rest of the crew peaked through from the back.

A shuddering breath floated through your lips as you felt the lifetime of exhaustion catch up with you. “I almost gave you all of me Carmen. Please just leave me alone” The words escaped your throat in a hoarse whisper. You were so far gone that you couldn’t even see the look of heartbreak and despair marring Carmen’s features.

“Baby, hey!” Your eyes shot to Richie as he blocked your line of vision to Carmen's. Head shaking back and forth arms slowly reaching out before coming to rest on your biceps thumbs gently massaging into them. “Let’s take a break Baby calm down a bit yeah?” He nodded his head waiting for you to nod along before he led you to the back, making sure to block your view of Carmen.

You were shaking as the two of you made your way past Nat a whispered ‘I’m sorry’ leaving your lips as she was left to deal with the mess that was Carmy.

“Fuck!” The loud crashes of a heavy object slamming into the floor caused you to jump in Richie’s hold as he led you back into the office.

Little tremors shook through your body as Richie carefully guided you to sit in the lone office chair. Taking his position by your legs as he squatted in front of you, worry etched into his features at having never seen you react like that.

Your hands came to grip Richie's, the tear tracks on your face now dried, you were almost positive you had run out of tears to cry.

“I lost everything, Richie,” your voice was strained. “And I…I spared him because I knew he couldn’t handle it, you knew he couldn’t handle it…not after Mikey.”

Richie’s eyes squeezed closed as he raised your intertwined hands to his forehead, haunting memories of you forcing their way through. He dropped your hands delicately cupping your face to press a kiss on your forehead, “I know Baby.” The words were spoken softly against your skin.

The two of you sat in that position as you gained control of your ragged breathing.

“Hey I’ve been through some shit Baby, we’ve been through some shit, nothing,” the firm grip on your chin reminded you of the lost soul who should’ve been in the room with you two. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. Nothing you say will change how I look at you.”

It was always weird to see Richie serious and the voice of reason, not that he didn’t have his moments, but seeing Rich without his signature smile made it feel like you had stripped him of something so personal.

“How bout this, Sug or I take you before you beat Carmy’s ass,” the sentence drew a small laugh out of you. “And then I’ll come over when I’m done here, pick up some dinner and we’ll have one of those nights like we used to when…when Mikey was still here.” You nodded your head not having enough energy to produce words.

Richie patted your knee rising to his full height as he headed to check on Sug and his idiot of a fucking cousin. “Oh hey, I’ll have Eva tonight, you don’t mind do you? She’s constantly on my ass about seeing her auntie Bebe.” Richie stood in the now open doorway awaiting your answer.

Your immediate response was yes, but you had to consider Tiff, unsure if she wanted her daughter around you considering your newly acquired title as recovering addict.

“I’d like that a lot, but I-I think you should get Tiff’s permission to bring Eva around me.” You knew your suggestion might upset Richie but it was for the best, and you would call Tiff yourself just to double-check.

“Hey no none of that shit, she’s my fucking kid too Baby.” The defensive tone in his voice immediately caused you to close your eyes, hands moving to massage your temples.

“Richie please, I just need you to do this for me okay? This isn’t about your parenting skills, Rich.” Richie watched you for a minute, the exhaustion noticeable.

He nodded sending you one last somber look before making his exit keen on chewing his little fucking asshole cousin a new one.

Richie could feel his anger rising in him as he walked past Marcus and Fak as they worked to remove appliances from the kitchen. He quickly sauntered toward the whispers of Sugar and Carmy becoming clearer as he finally made it to the front of the restaurant.

The first thing his eyes took notice of was the destroyed cash register lying in the middle of the floor, debris from the relic scattered across the room. Richie stood there taking in the scene, the two Berzatto siblings' conversation coming to a halt as Richie blew out a whistle, walking around the mess slowly clapping.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work Cousin,” Richie’s hand shot out to point in Carmy’s direction the younger man looking disheveled, the frown on his face almost comical.

Natalie felt her shoulders tense; she had known these two long enough to know nothing good would come out of this interaction. The fact that you were in the middle of all this would make whatever happened right now all the worse.

There were two things in the world Richie didn’t play about, little Eva; and you.

“Richie I don’t need your fucking bullshit right now.” Carmy moved to walk around the counter, hands fumbling in his pocket to get his cigarettes out, his focus on the door he was trying to escape through.

“You’re a piece of shit cousin.” Richie’s hands shot out to grip the collar of Carmy’s crew neck, shoving him into the counter.

Natalie’s shocked gasp of Richie’s name did nothing to tear the men away from each other.

“Get the fuck outta my face, Richie.” The shorter man shoved the man standing in front of him.

A rueful smile raised to Richie’s lips “That girl has bent over backward for your conceited ass time and time again, and you go and ruin the only good fucking thing you have going for yourself.” Richie’s hand raised thumb and middle finger moving to flick Carmy between the brows.

“You’re the last person that gets to talk to me about fucking ruining good things in my life.” Carmy’s free hand moved to swat at Richie’s.

“That empty fucking head of yours is so far up your ass you can’t see what the fucks been in front of you this whole time.

“Yo fuck you, Richie!”

The two loud voices echoed throughout the restaurant as the angry men tried to outyell each other.

“No you fucking listen to me! You don’t know what the fuck that girls been through. Where the fuck were you when shit went down Carmen! Huh!” Richie shoved Carmy again, the anger he felt for you pouring through him.

“Why the fuck weren’t you there for her whe-.”

“Richie!” Natalie’s stern voice caused Richie to harness some of his anger. “No.” The subtle shake of her head stopped his sentence mid-thought.

“You’re worse than the shit on the bottom of my shoe, and you don’t deserve to touch one pretty little hair on that girl’s head. And if I ever have to listen to her cry over you, watch her hurt over you again, you’re gonna wish Mikey was still here to save your ass.” Richie’s hand shot out to slap against the side of Carmen’s head, “Fucking bum.”

He removed himself from Carmy’s space, hands immediately raising as he faced Nat’s exhausted stare. “Sug I’m sorry, but get Baby home will you? I gotta finish up shit round here.”

Richie left the two Berzatto siblings to stand in the now quiet front of the restaurant, the sooner he finished his shit here, the sooner he and Eva could spend the evening with you.

Natalie looked at her younger brother scared of how this sequence of events would affect him. She took a step forward hand reaching out to Carmy before dropping it, “Hey, you okay?” The two siblings stood in silence, one worried about the well-being of her remaining brother.

And the other was trying to collect his racing thoughts, too many zooming through for him to even land on one.

“Where are we with the permits?” To Carmy’s ears, it sounded like he was underwater, his voice muffled, barely loud enough to be heard.

“Carm-.” Nat’s words were cut off with no chance of consoling him.

“Just get her home Nat and get back to me on those permits please.” Natalie watched as Carmy collected his phone and jacket, an unfocused wave of his hand sent in her direction before making his way through the exit, disappearing to who knows where.

Natalie watched as the front door latched shut, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for pushing you into this environment. If she had just let you re-acclimate yourself on your own time, maybe this situation could’ve been avoided.

Her hand fell to her stomach, eyes following suit, “Welcome to the family little one.”

The sound of your doorbell constantly ringing tore your stare away from the bottle sitting on your coffee table. You sat still for a minute before remembering the plans you made with Richie earlier in the day, your eyes shooting to the bottle before you quickly moved to hide it behind one of the couch pillows.

Since Natalie dropped you off earlier you had gone back and forth with the idea of finally coming clean to Richie. Your decision was led by your emotions from earlier in the day, but after finding the bottle of champagne you received in The Tribune’s welcome basket shoved in the back of your pantry, you were sorely rethinking your decision.

You adjusted the pillow to disguise any misshapen lumps before hurrying to the door to greet your guest. Hoping the forced smile was enough you opened the door feeling the once-fake smile begin to settle into a genuine one as you took in the father-daughter duo on your porch.

“Auntie Bebe!” You laughed, a lump forming in your throat at how big the young girl seemed to have gotten.

“Little E is that you?” Eva giggled at the exaggerated gasp you let out before throwing herself against your legs squeezing you tight.

She unlatched herself from you before gripping your hand and moving into the house, “Daddy bought us pizza!”

“Hey, Eva take your shoes off.” Richie gave you a small smile as he scolded the little girl, her huff of annoyance not going unnoticed by the two of you.

Richie finally walked through the door shutting and locking it behind him staring at you as he waited for instructions, “Hey E go ahead to the living room and pick out something to watch okay? I’m gonna help your dad real quick.”

You were rewarded with her adorable smile as she ran in the direction you pointed her to. You turned back to Richie taking the two pizza boxes from his hand to allow him to remove his shoes and jacket.

The two of you made your way to the kitchen setting the boxes down on your island with a clear view of Eva scrolling through your tv. You maneuvered around the kitchen for plates before brandishing them to Richie, eyes caught on Eva’s small figure in your living room.

“She’s gotten so big,” the tears you thought had run out earlier were once again making their appearance.

Richie’s head turned to you, “Aww Baby look at you ready to cry and shit, you just saw her a year ago.”

You listened to Richie’s intoxicating laugh, trying your best to find the humor in his words. The notion was hard though when the last memory you could’ve had of the sweet little girl waiting for the two of you in the living room was holding her at a funeral that could have just as easily been yours.

“You coming Baby?” Richie’s raised brows were aimed at you, he had already made his way to the living room setting the smaller plate in front of Eva.

You cleared your throat nodding your head with a forced smile on your lips. It was settled, Richie had every right to know that there could have been a universe where he had to survive without Mikey and you.

Eva was cuddled into your side as your fingers stoked through her blonde locks, her smaller hand playing with the rings on your free hand. The two of you sat staring at the paused episode of ‘The Dragon Prince’ waiting for Richie to return from the bathroom.

Sitting with Eva in your living room made your heart heavy with what could’ve been. A small sad smile traced your lips as you leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

Eva’s head turned to yours, her tongue poking out at you as you returned the gesture, the two of you going back and forth making silly faces at each other before she released a small yawn. You watched as her small hand rose to gently run her little fingers across the scars on your face.

“Auntie Bebe?” You made a small noise to let her know you were listening. “Are you going to die?”

Your brows pinched together, Eva’s hand prodded at the scar between your eyebrows that was now more prominent, “Hey hey, where is this coming from?”

Her hand lowered to her lap as she turned her attention back to your ring-clad hand. “Mommy said you were sick…like Uncle Mikey…and that you tried to be with him.”

The ache in your chest was instant, you knew Tiff had tried to explain why you hadn’t visited but you didn’t know Eva had such an understanding of everything.

She raised your hand so it was in front of the two of you, little fingers dancing across yours, “And Uncle Mikey left us 'cause he was sick and I don’t want you to leave to Bebe.”

“Little E, look at me,” you waited as she adjusted next to you small body, cuddling into you more as her face turned to you. “I was sick…just like Uncle Mikey, but I’m doing a lot better now. And I got hurt, that’s why I have these scars on my face but a lot of good people helped me, like Auntie Nat, and even your mom.”

You stopped allowing the child to digest your words, you were trying to explain things in the simplest terms, and the small girl next to you didn’t need to know any of the details. “As much as I miss Uncle Mikey I could never leave behind my Little E.”

Eva shrieked as you moved forward to tickle her doing your best to make a very tough conversation end on a light note for the sweet little girl who brought joy to your world.

“How about some ice cream, yeah?” You watched as the small girl nodded up and down excitedly, her arms coming up to wrap around your neck as she planted a small kiss on your cheek.

“I missed you, Auntie Bebe.”

Your hand reached out to ruffle the girl's hair, “I missed you too Little E.” She removed herself from around you laying across the empty couch cushions.

You let out a little laugh before grabbing the empty plates and moving to the kitchen to get Eva her ice cream. You jumped at the sight of Richie leaning against the island in your kitchen arms crossed against his chest.

“Why are you standing in my kitchen like a fucking weirdo Richie,” you laughed moving to place the plates in the sink before grabbing a bowl for the ice cream. “Eva’s okay to have ice cream right, I know it's a little late bu-”

“What the hell was Eva talking about Baby,” you looked over your shoulder Richie’s stern eyes focused on you eyes piercing through you as opposed to at you.

You sat the bowl and ice cream on the island before searching for your ice cream scooper, the silence droning on as you began scooping out ice cream for Eva.

“I fucked up Richie,” you finally looked up to Richie eyes wet with tears as you watched him tightly shut his eyes and begin shaking his head back and forth. Not prepared for what he was about to hear.

You quickly finished with ice cream, returning everything to its location and dropping the scoop in the sink before grabbing a spoon. You made your way to Eva sending her a small smile as you handed the bowl to her, “I need to talk to your daddy okay? Go ahead and finish watching without us mamas.” Your words went in one ear and out the other, her attention fully on the treat in her hands. You gave her one last smile before braving yourself for what the kitchen had in store for you.

“I uh…I was in a bad place after Chicago we had just buried Mikey and then…the hospital happened,” you stopped taking a deep breath to get through this conversation. “I should’ve come home Richie I-.” You couldn’t get the words out your throat felt like it was constricting. It felt as though if you tried confessing you would choke on the words before you could even come clean to Richie.

Richie sat next to you at your small circular dining table chair turned towards you, eyes flicking to Eva’s figure every few seconds to make sure she was okay. Richie wasn’t even sure he wanted you to continue, but a huge part of him needed to know what you went through, he thought he had already seen you at your lowest point but the gravity of your words assured him that was nothing compared to the confession you were about to lay at his feet.

“I overdosed Rich.” Richie froze having thought he hadn’t heard you correctly for a second but as he watched the despair take over your face, he knew he heard you right.

His hand came up to wipe across his mouth, the reality of your words barely setting in. “Baby no, no, no, no.” The laugh that accompanied his words morphed into a silent sob as he tucked his head into his hands.

You swallowed your cry fighting to escape as you turned to make sure Eva was still okay, a reprieve from the hard conversation you were having.

You moved from your chair standing in front of Richie so you could console him, his arms wrapped around your waist as his head settled against your stomach, the shaking of his body proof to you that cries were still wracking his body.

The silent sobs turned into quiet cries, his hands gripping the extra fabric of your shirt at the waist. Your tears could no longer be held back bending at the waist you rested your forehead against the back of Richie’s head.

While Richie was crying over the sister he almost lost; you cried over the lives you ruined.

“Auntie Bebe I finished my ice cream!” You took in a deep breath against Richie’s head moving your own from its previous position.

You moved to step out of Richie’s grip, his hands tightening around your shirt tears seeping through to dampen your skin. “I gotta help E, I promise I’ll be back Richie.”

The breath you took in choked you as you had to pry Richie’s clenched fingers out of the fabric of your shirt. You quickly wiped your cheeks before making your way over to Eva grabbing the bowl from her hands and sending her a forced smile.

“Can I spend the night Bebe?” The hope in her eyes made your chest heave.

“How about I call your mom tomorrow and we arrange something for another time, is that okay with you?” Your hands brushed across her forehead, clearing the hair from her face.

She pouted, sinking into the couch cushion, “E, hey you can come visit me whenever, but tonight just isn’t a good night for a sleepover.”

You watched as her eyes began to water, “But what if you try to leave again?” You hadn’t realized how intuitive children could be at times, you bent down to make yourself eye level with Eva.

“Listen, mamas, I’m just a phone call away okay? Anytime you’re scared I might be gone just ask your mom or dad to call me and I’ll answer every time, I promise.” Everyone knew making promises to children was a slippery slope, but you intended on keeping this promise with every ounce of your being, it was time for you to start taking some responsibility.

Eva nodded her head throwing her little arms around your neck and gracing you with a hug you weren’t aware you needed. You gave a small kiss to her temple before pulling away and setting the empty bowl on your coffee table.

“How about you lay down okay? Your dad and I might be awhile,” She nodded, moving and leaning against the pillow, her sudden weight revealing the champagne bottle you had hidden behind it, you quickly covered her with the throw blanket on your couch before picking up the bowl and bottle and making your way back to the kitchen.

You gently placed the bowl in the sink before making your way over to Richie whose head was still in his hands. His eyes found yours as he heard you take your seat, before skating across the unopened bottle you had set between the two of you.

“I’ve been sober for five months now,” watching Richie’s bloodshot eyes slowly blink at you as he drank your every word in felt like a knife being continuously shoved through your chest. “No drugs, no alcohol.” Your voice trailed off, this was the first time you had admitted your shortcomings by choice.

“Ho-How’d it happen?” Your eyes focused on Richie’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down, his face pinching together like asking that simple question was equivalent to swallowing glass.

“I uh don’t know the full story, just what the doctors told Nat and me,” you could see the hurt on his face that Nat was already privy to the information. “I didn’t tell her by choice, uh after my mom died my family kind of distanced themselves from me and so N-Nat became my power of attorney.”

He nodded his head, unfocused eyes floating around your kitchen, “Can you tell me?”

A tired sigh left you “Rich I don’t thi-,”

“I need to know Baby, please.” His hand shot out to grip yours, desperation you had never before seen seeping from his eyes.

You cleared your throat taking in a deep breath, “When I left Chicago, I just felt so…alone. It was like everywhere I looked there was either a reminder of Mikey or a reminder of…of what we lost.” Richie’s free hand returned to swipe across his mouth, eyes everywhere but you.

“The pills were prescription I…I can’t remember when I started taking them or when the dependency started but I-I know the alcohol started first. I deluded myself into thinking that I could do what Mikey couldn't…that I could numb the pain and function at the same time.

“It was like that for a while and then it just gradually got worse until I ended up hospitalized with no recollection of how I even got there and…and Natalie just crying and staring at me and the thing is I had heard those cries from her once before.” The same cries you listened to as she revealed Mikey’s fate to you.

“Um, the story is that I had been mixing drugs and alcohol which yeah I was. But that day I guess it finally went too far, for some reason I was trying to get to my patio and I guess I couldn’t figure out the door, I just…repeatedly threw myself into the glass until it shattered.” Your free hand moved unconsciously to pick at the scar lining the right side of your jaw, Richie’s hand quickly snatching it away urging you to continue your story.

“Wasn’t done yet though was I,” you looked at Richie expecting a chuckle out of him but the stoic look in his eyes told you he wasn’t in the mood for half-baked jokes. “I took two more pills and stumbled bloody through my apartment before making it out of my door and collapsing in a pool of my blood and vomit. A neighbor found me and called the ambulance.” You were glad you had no recollections of what would’ve been your final moments.

The silence in the kitchen was heavy, the words you had shared between the two of you more than anything Richie could have ever prepared himself for.

“Baby why…why didn’t you call me?” Richie’s hand covered his mouth in a fist as another cry escaped his lips wide teary eyes finally focused on yours.

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.” Richie could feel his heart breaking as he listened to the crack in your voice as you spoke, you had been so scared to disappoint him that you had hidden a part of yourself for him for so long.

“How long have you been in Chicago? You avoided Richie’s gaze, not brave enough to see the look of hurt and betrayal.

“I spent a month in Wisconsin at a treatment facility, I’ve been in Chicago since December.”

“And Tiff knew about this?”

“Yeah…uh she kind of forced it out of Natalie, I guess Eva kept asking about me.” You watched as Richie’s head slowly nodded as he carefully let your words play in his head.

Richie leaned forward in his chair, elbows coming to rest on his knees as his clasped hands rested against his mouth.

“I’m not disappointed in you Baby,” Richie’s eyes rose to yours. “But I’m real fuckin hurt and the shit you just laid on me was a lot to take in but I…I want to understand and I want to be here for you.”

The tears that had subsided were now back pouring down your face in droves, “I’m so sorry Richie, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But I promise you I’m trying to be better, I will be better. I don’t think I'll get another shot at this after this one.”

Richie stood from his chair pulling you up with him, immediately tugging you into his chest hugging you tightly under the ambient kitchen lighting. He knew his hugs would never match up to Mikey’s, that his role in your life would never compare to Mikey's. But he loved you so much and learning that you had fallen victim to the same poison as Mikey made him feel like an utter failure.

Richie tilted his head down planting a kiss on the crown of your head, the saltiness of his tears passing over his lips.

What purpose did he have if he couldn’t even keep his last promise to Mikey?

Carmen’s day had come to an end hours ago but he just couldn’t get himself to fall asleep, all the words you had said to him playing over and over again in his head.

He had been so caught up in your argument that he blew his food-hopping plans off with Syd, and couldn’t even get himself to return any of the many missed phone calls he received from the number he knew to be Claire’s

Not that he even wanted to but he felt the girl deserved a proper explanation.

After leaving the restaurant and wandering the Chicago streets he found himself back where his life seemed to begin and end. Pouring what was left of him into helping the rest of the crew start the gut on the restaurant. He wasn’t proud that he let his emotions regarding your situation get the best of him, leading to an unnecessary and petty argument with Sydney. But he knew the two of them would work their issues out.

He couldn’t be sure that the same could be said for the two of you though.

The journal he had started a year ago sat open in his lap, the Polaroid he used to keep his place gently rested on his bedside table, the small lamp illuminated the two of you staring at each other eyes full of love as you wore matching smiles.

A teardrop landed on the ink-stained pages of his journal. The words he wanted to say to you easily poured out of him when he sat down to write to you. The journal began as a way for him to express what he felt for you, but as the months went on and the writing became a part of his routine they turned into letters to you he’d never have the guts to send.

His hand came up to swipe across his face before reaching for the pristine Polaroid and neatly tucking it between the designated pages. The journal was then safely placed in his bedside drawer. He knew he needed to give you space, he just wasn’t sure if there had ever been a future written in the stars for the two of you.

Picking up his phone he opened it to your newly saved contact, the need to hear your voice spilling more tears from his eyes. Your voice rang through his head as he thought about your words from earlier, Carmy couldn’t lie, he knew you loved him and had known for a while but hearing you say it aloud had finally awoken that part in him that would allow himself the pleasure of loving you back.

He couldn’t do it, couldn’t get himself to call you. A sob ripped through him as he locked his phone and set it down, the hope he had earlier to work things out with you was now gone, and he had no one left to blame but himself.

Carmy laid back in bed, eyes blankly staring at the ceiling, one arm bent at a right angle to support his head. He had really and truly ruined whatever relationship was left between you two.

Carmy’s hand dipped into the collar of his tank top, gripping the small pendant he found dangling from his chain after returning home from his shift the night you made your departure from his New York apartment.

His fingers had gotten used to tracing over the initial of your first name that he proudly wore around his neck. The closest thing he even had to you now.

Carmy’s eyes watered as he raised the initial pendant to his lips, a lingering kiss pressed into it, and a whispered “I love you,” filtered through the quiet of his room.

tag list: @saturnheart @r0s3mm @wheredidmycrowngo @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @jointherebellion215 @blkbxrbie-esther @ajordan2020 @head-slut-in-charge @magnet-girl @thebookwormlife @sevikasblackgf @writers-hes @senassn @bunnysthngs @gabbycoady13 @randomhoex @mattmurdocksstarlight @shinebright2000 @royalestrellas @jam1esl0v4 @globetrotter28 @dankfarrick29 @flowersgirl02 @beingalive1 @fairytale07 @smoooore @ghost-timelord @xxxstormyninixxx

so i’ve reached the limit of people i can mention in a single post, i apologize if you asked to be tagged and were left off it was not intentional. i’m gonna figure something out to try and fix this…sorry : (

#the pansexual in me jumped out at that first tag…#its so overrated bestie now i have to write a whole other chapter #just for you to react all over again #sighhhh #love your reactions with all of my heart!#all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#[aiekoy] chapter 6 reblogs

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 3 years ago

Text

He Tastes Like the Blood in His Mouth

Summary: Steve and Eddie start weekly movie nights with Dustin. But Dustin starts bailing on them, leaving them alone together. One evening Eddie goes to get them a popcorn refill and doesn't come back.

Word Count: 5,547

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Jason's asshole friends beating up Eddie, one insinuation of homophobia.

Ao3

They're at the movies when it happens. Steve and Eddie. Dustin was supposed to come but he'd gotten into the habit of ditching them at the last second. It was a downright suspicious habit, Steve was definitely gonna have to question him about it soon. If he ever saw the kid again. The little brat. But, if Steve was being honest. He didn't mind. Spending time with Eddie had been... different. New. And kind of exciting.

He was weird. No doubt about that. And maybe the most hyper person Steve had ever met. He couldn't sit still to save his life. Even at the movies. His leg constantly bouncing. When they first started going he'd apologized to Steve and gotten up to move. Steve had grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, dismissing the apology with a nonchalant "It's fine dude you don't have to move." And so Eddie hadn't. And Steve had been granted the privilege of feeling Eddie's leg bouncing against his for an hour an a half about twice a week.

Eddie had gone to get them a refill about twenty minutes ago. More popcorn. More soda. Probably more candy even though Steve said he was fine. The movie had gotten slow, and Steve was pretty sure Eddie had already seen it. But Steve had suggested it and he'd agreed enthusiastically. But it had been too long. Something was wrong.

Steve left the theater, the movie on the screen the last thing on his mind. He turns the corner and his foot hits something, he looks down and his heart drops into his stomach. It's the popcorn bucket Eddie had gone to refill, their empty cups lie scattered a few feet away too. Steve is out of the theater in seconds, the setting sun blinding him as he looks up and down the street. No sign of Eddie. Or anyone. That's when he hears a yell, a yell of pain. His eyes jump to the mouth of the alley next to theater and his hands clench at his sides as he starts running.

He sees them as soon as he enters the alley. Three of them. Surrounding Eddie. Who is on the ground, curled in a ball, ringed fingers splayed out over the back of his head as he tries to deflect the blows being rained down upon him.

"Hey!" Steve yells, not slowing as he barrels toward them, it's Jason's friends, he knows that. They're still wearing their fucking letterman jackets. Jason had been locked up for assault, after attacking Lucas, his friends seemed to still be doing his bidding. They turn to look when Steve shouts. He throws himself between two of them and plants himself between them and Eddie.

"Steve?" Eddie's voice, from the ground, quiet.

"It's me. You're alright." He tells Eddie, not looking away from the assholes in front of him.

"Alright guys. It's over. You can fuck off now." He says, his fists raised, knowing they probably won't just leave. Not that easily. They laugh. Because of course they do. Steve feels Eddie uncurl at his feet, hears his feet scrape the concrete as he struggles to stand.

They're still laughing, one of them lunges forward and pushes Eddie back down before Steve can stop him. Steve grabs the guys shirt and shoves him backwards.

"Do you guys really not have anything better to do? Go see a movie or something." Steve says, giving Eddie his hand as he reaches up, Steve pulls him to his feet. Eddie wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand as he sways next to Steve.

"Oh hey! Would you look at that. There's a theater right there. What a coincidence, huh Steve?" Eddie slaps Steve's arm and points to the theater they'd just left.

"Huge coincidence. And so convenient." Steve deadpans, keeping himself in front of Eddie.

"Oh we know there's a theater. We saw you and your," jackass number one starts, his eyes move from Steve to Eddie as he pauses, looks him up and down, and then back to Steve,

"boyfriend. Walk in as we were coming out. That's how we knew you were there. Asshole." They all sneer and elbow each other. Clearly thinking they've said something clever. Steve feels Eddie move away from him, just a fraction, and bites the inside of his cheek, hard, to stop himself from saying something stupid.

"Yeah, no man we know. I was being..." Steve pauses, what a fucking great time to not know a fucking word, but Eddie's on it.

"Sarcastic." He supplies, swaying back into Steve's space to supply the word and then swaying back out again.

"Sarcastic. Yeah. That. I was being sarcastic." Steve agrees, nodding, but not dropping his fists.

"Yeah." Eddie echoes, and Steve's not sure he can help it. He does it so often, to everyone.

"Okay whatever man. We don't care. This freaks got a storm coming. And we're here to deliver." The guy spits in Eddie's direction.

"You're here to deliver a storm?" Eddie asks, ducking closer to Steve again as the guy who spit faints jumping forward, Steve moves back and into Eddie, feels his hands brush his shoulders like he was going to rest them there, and then feels them move down his back and away from him.

The boys laugh again, all of them roughing each other up a little, slapping each others backs. Steve narrows his eyes and leans further into Eddie, pressing his back to Eddie's chest and tilting his head so that Eddie can hear him.

"Get ready to run." He whispers. He feels Eddie's hesitant "ok" breathed against his neck and plants his feet.

"Ya know somethin?" Steve calls, interrupting their idiotic laughter. Their laughter dies down as they look at him, all of them still chuckling.

"What?" The guy asks, smiling smuggly at Steve.

"You talk too much." Steve says, shoving his fist into the guys face as hard as he can. The guy falls back as the other two catch him and Steve grabs Eddie's hand.

They run out of the alley and make it to Steve's car just in time. The other boys slamming their hands down onto the hood of the car as Steve backs out and floors it, speeding away from the theater. He waits for the boys to follow but they don't. He drives another mile before he looks over to check on Eddie.

His face is pinched in pain, his hand pressed to his ribs as he breathes through his nose.

"You good?" Steve asks, doing his best to keep his eyes on the road when all he wants to do is look at Eddie.

"Oh yeahhh, totally good. Guess I should be used to getting the shit kicked out of me by now." He mumbles, sucking in air as he adjusts himself in the seat. But his words make Steve pause. He slows to a stop at a four way, the streets are empty, he looks at Eddie.

"Has this happened before? Since Jason went away I mean?" Steve looks at him, it's probably closer to a glare, he can't help it, the anger boiling in his chest is white hot. Eddie glances at him and then looks away, moving again so he's facing the window, hiding from Steve. But Steve sees it anyway, the guilt. He looks back to the road and starts driving, a heavy sigh leaving him.

"Why didn't you tell us man? We'd help you ya know?" Steve says, because it's true. And because he needs Eddie to know that.

"It doesn't matter." Eddie sighs, his head leaning further away to press against the window.

"It does so matter." Steve huffs, and he knows he shouldn't be mad. Not at Eddie.

"Guess I just figured... you guys have been through enough. Don't need you all worrying about poor little Eddie Munson. I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone's pitty." He grunts as he moves again.

"It's not about that. Hey." Steve stops the car, pulls to the side of the road. Eddie lets his head fall to the side to look at Steve, the guilt still swimming in his eyes.

"You don't have to take care of yourself. You're our friend. It's what we do. Ya know? We take care of each other. And that includes you now." Steve says, his knuckles reaching out, pressing gently to Eddie's thigh and then pulling back. Eddie's eyes move to Steve's hand and stay there.

"You just gotta tell us when stuff happens alright? So we can help you." He finishes, still looking at Eddie, who's still looking at Steve's hand.

"Yeah okay. Will do. Next time I'm getting chased by some jock assholes I'll let you know. Just stop at a pay phone and call the 1-800-Harrington-Help-Line." Eddie's eyes move finally, and when he looks at Steve that mischievous glint is back, and that blinding smile is easing onto his face and whatever it was that was constricting in Steve's chest relaxes. Steve snorts, and Eddie laughs before looking away, his head falling back on the headrest. Steve's eyes trail over Eddie's face, the blood on his lip and his temple making Steve frown. He puts the car in drive and pulls away.

They ride in silence for awhile. Steve pulls into his neighborhood and hears Eddie move again.

"Whoa. Where the hell are you taking me?" Eddie asks, his head snapping to look at Steve as he pulls into his driveway. He puts the car in park and takes the key out.

"I'm not taking you back to your house when a bunch of assholes just attacked you man. They know where you live. And it's a lot harder to break into a house in this neighborhood than it is your trailer." He gets out and walks to the other side of the car, opens Eddie's door and looks down at him, his brow furrowing.

"No offense." He tacks on, realizing how what he said sounded. Eddie sits there, not moving.

"And your parents are just gonna be okay with you bringing a murderer home?" Eddie asks, picking at the hole in his jeans.

"Hey. Alleged murderer." He smiles down at him.

"Besides they're on vacation. Come on man. We need to get those cuts taken care of." He slaps Eddie's shoulder and starts walking to the house. Giving him no choice but to follow. He climbs the steps to his porch and finally hears Eddie following, his feet scuffing the ground as he hesitantly moves closer to Steve's house. Steve holds the door open and gives him an encouraging smile, a little nod, motioning for Eddie to go inside with a wave of his hand. Eddie rolls his eyes but goes inside anyway.

~*~

He's in Steve Harrington's house. And that could be the weirdest thing that's happened to him during all this. But it gets worse. Because he's not just in his house. He's sitting on Steve Harrington's bathroom counter. And Steve Harrington himself is dressing his fucking wounds. Fuckin wild.

Eddie's fingers tap a rhythm on his knees as he tries to stay still. Steve's wetting a washcloth to clean the blood off Eddie's face. The cut on his temple doesn't hurt so bad. But the split lip is throbbing, which is almost definitely probably certainly being made worse by the fact that he can't keep his tongue off of it.

Steve moves into his space and he flinches, knows he does. Knows Steve sees it. He puts up one placating hand before he begins wiping at Eddie's head.

"Ow fuck!" Eddie yells, making Steve jump.

"Shit are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Steve asks, his fingers reaching out and gently touching Eddie's shoulder. Eddie smirks at him. Steve's face drops. He goes back to cleaning the cut.

"Asshole." He says, but his hands are gentle as he cleans the cut and tapes a square of gauze to Eddie's head. He takes a step back, looking at the bandage and then moving his eyes to Eddie's lip. He makes a few moves, like he's not sure how to get close to Eddie to get to it.

And Eddie. In all his goddamn wisdom. He fucking looks Steve right in eyes and fucking spreads his legs, making space for Steve. He'd love to say he did it to be cheeky, to be flirty, love to say he has that much fucking forethought about anything in his life. But the truth is, he just did it. Thought it would be the best way for Steve to reach him. For Steve to help him.

He can see in Steve's eyes he was wrong. That the gesture was maybe more than a little suggestive. He curls his fingers agaisnt his thighs, is about to apologize when Steve steps into the space he's made. Eddie goes to bite his lip to stop himself from gasping and ends up gasping anyway, his teeth sinking right into the cut on his lip. He grimaces and hisses in pain.

"That was smooth." Steve comments, and Eddie's heart jumps in his chest but then Steve's fingers are on his chin and he figures it out. Steve meant 'smooth. You hurt yourself way to go' and not 'smooth move, the way you literally spread your legs for me'. Eddie says nothing, just closes his eyes so he isn't looking at Steve fucking Harrington so close up. Closes his eyes so he doesn't do something stupid.

It doesn't take long for Steve to clean his cuts. Maybe five minutes, total. But it feels like forever. Steve's thigh bumps the inside of Eddie's at one point and he knows his whole body twitches, he can't help it. Steve graciously says nothing. Just keeps cleaning the cut on Eddie's lip. He taps Eddie's arm when he's done, Eddie opens his eyes and sees Steve offering him some aspirin. He takes them, hopping off the counter as Steve takes the first aid kit away, tucking it back into the hall closet as Eddie pops the pills in his mouth and fills his hand with water, swallowing them as Steve pops his head back into the room.

"Come on." He nods his head and walks down the hall. Eddie follows, his fingertips reaching out, moving over the walls as he goes. He follows Steve into his room and stops, standing in the middle, looking around, at all the posters, and the trophies.

"Here." Eddie turns just in time to catch the clothes Steve has thrown at him. A pair of sweatpants and the softest shirt Eddie has ever fucking felt in his life. He opens his mouth, takes a step back, about to go back to the bathroom to change when Steve pulls his shirt over his head.

"Oookaaay." Eddie breathes, quietly, Steve doesn't hear him, or ignores him if he does. Eddie turns around, his back to Steve, mainly so Steve can't see... all of him? He's not sure why. Steve plays sports. He does this all the time. Eddie on the otherhand, always found the locker room to be a goddamn nightmare. His eyes wander the wrong way once and he's a fucking dead man. So he turns his back to Steve, toes his shoes off and then wiggles out of his jeans. Tucking the shirt between his teeth as he goes.

He steps into the sweatpants and yanks them up before he shrugs off his jacket and vest, he fights off the urge to glance over his shoulder. Eddie rolls his eyes at himself and then yanks his shirt up over his head. He drops it on the floor and grabs the shirt from his mouth, and drops that one too. He bends to get it and yelps, the pain shooting through his rips suprising him. He manages to grab the shirt but not in time. Steve had heard him, and immediately come to help.

"What happ- jesus christ Eddie." Steve breathed, coming to a stop in front of him, his eyes glued to Eddie's stomach. Eddie immediately moves his arms to cover himself, knowing Steve is looking at the bruises, and not at him. But it's hard to separate the too currently, standing half naked in Steve Harrington's room with Steve fucking Harrington staring at him.

"Lemme see." Steve says softly, his fingers curling gently around Eddie's wrist where he's hugging himself, tugging his arms away slowly, letting Eddie decide if wants Steve to see or not. Eddie sighs and lowers his arms awkwardly to his sides, his fingers latching onto the sweatpants and worrying at them, his eyes on the ground as Steve's eyes are on him.

"It's not a big deal Harrington." He huffs, feeling defensive. Not sure why. He knows he doesn't need to feel like that around Steve. He knows Steve knows about Robin. But he also knows Steve doesn't know about the huge fucking crush Eddie has been harboring for him. And it's different, with Robin. It just is. He looks up from the floor when he hears Steve scoff at him. The look he's giving Eddie. Eddie can't read it.

"Not that bad? Eddie there are bruises here that look almost two weeks old. These right here?" Steve moves his hand, presses his palm flat agaisnt Eddie's side and he almost yelps again, but not from pain. He bites his lip instead, another mistake. He groans in pain, shrinks away from Steve's touch, and rubs his hands over his face.

"Look can we not do this? I know when the bruises are from man. I was actually there when they happened." He says, words falling out of him in a frustrated rush as he struggles to find the hole in the shirt that he needs so he can pull it on and cover the bruises so Steve will leave him alone. He drops the shirt again and makes a frustrated noise low in his throat. He moves to bend down again but Steve rushes forward.

"Hey hey hey I got it. Don't- just let me." He stands slowly, the shirt in his hands. He juggles it around and finds the opening easily, then he holds it out for Eddie. And he can't be fucking serious. This guys is literally offering to fucking help dress him. Eddie narrows his eyes. Steve rolls his.

"Come on man. You're clearly in pain. Can you just let this happen so we can get this over with?" Steve huffs now, taking another step forward. Eddie licks his lips, carefully, and nods. He ducks his head a bit as Steve moves the shirts onto him, sliding his arms up through the holes Steve has his hands through. Eddie's arms brush Steve's all the way up to his elbows before Steve pulls back and lets the shirt fall onto him. Before Eddie can move to do it, Steve moves closer and pulls Eddie's hair up and out from where it's tucked under the collar. Eddie is sure he has to notice the shiver this time. But he still says nothing.

"Umm... thank you?" Eddie says, because he can't say nothing. Never learned how.

"Sure man." Steve says, nods, and then walks to his bed and jumps in, scooting to the far side, next to the wall, leaving the covers pushed back. Eddie just stands where he is, looking like an idiot no doubt. And this was a bad idea. He should have just made Steve take him home. His hands shake at his sides, he fists them in the sweatpants to make them stop.

"Am I..." Eddie starts, trailing off and just pointing to the bed instead. More of a strange wobbly wave of his hand to be honest, but it gets the point across.

"Anytime you're ready, yeah." Steve sounds amused. And Eddie really wishes he could feel the same way. His heart pounds in his chest as he shuffles across the floor and crawls into the bed, tucking the sheets under his arm as he lays back and stares at the ceiling.

~*~

It's been at least an hour. And they're both just laying there. Eddie swears he can feel his heart beating in his toes. He hears Steve move finally, hears him turn over. He closes his eyes, praying and hoping and wishing he's turned to face the wall.

"Hey, I know you're awake." Steve's whisper is close. Eddie grimaces, definitely not facing the wall. He opens his eyes and glances to his right, Steve is laying on his side, hands tucked beneath his head, looking at Eddie in the dark. Eddie moves his eyes away and clears his throat awkwardly, sighing and gathering courage before he turns as well. Rotating under the sheet to face Steve, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other lying between them, picking at a stray thread in the sheet.

"Good observational skills ya got there Steve." He says, quietly. Both of them are whispering though there's no one else in the house. Steve snorts, tells him to shut up. But, unless Eddie's eyes are deceiving him, he looks... fond. Eddie can't take it. Can't take Steve fucking Harrington looking at him like that after having saved his ass, and patched his wounds, and giving him fucking clothes to sleep in.

"Hey Steve." He starts, drawing his attention, making sure he's listening.

"Yeah?" Steve's eyes are on him, twinkling in the dark with something Eddie can't identify.

"Thanks for not leaving me this time." Eddie says, not looking away from Steve, he needs to see this. Needs to know if he remembers. He watches Steve stare at him. Watches his face change. And then he sees it, the guilt seeps onto his features as Eddie watches him in the dark. Steve swallows, hard, and clears his throat awkwardly. Eddie swears he sees him wiggling a bit further away from Eddie.

"I um... I didn't know you remembered that." He says finally, and Eddie nods, slowly.

"You didn't think I remembered getting beat up at school, by my old friends' new friends? My old friend just letting it happen, and then leaving with them while they laughed. You didn't think I'd remember that?" There's no malice in his voice. He's not angry.

But they've never talked about it. Not when Steve showed up at the boat house with Dustin. Not in the upside down when Steve was thanking him for saving his ass. And at no point since everything had been over. They'd never once talked about what happened when they were kids. And this was a nice moment, so Eddie figured, perfect time to ruin that. He'd never admit it, but he prided himself on his terrible decision making sometimes. If he was good at one thing, it was putting his fucking foot in his mouth and syaing the exact wrong thing at the exact right time.

"I'm so sorry-" Steve starts, his voice edging into panic far too quick for Eddie's liking.

"Hey it's okay. We were kids. It's not. I'm not... I'm not mad. Anymore. Never really was I don't think. I don't remember being mad about it..." he isn't lying. He doesn't remember being mad. He was sad, for awhile. But that had passed too, eventually.

"I don't really know why I brought it up." And that's a lie. Sort of. Steve just looks at him. Clearly trying to figure out if Eddie is fucking with him. And to be fair, Eddie does do that, a lot. But he's not right now. So he gives Steve an akward smile and he he waits.

"Because we never talked about it. And we should have. I should have. Should have said something." Steve sighs, and Eddie watches him move closer in the dark.

"I've been thinking about it. Off an on, since we found you. That day at Reefer Rick's." Steve says, one hand moving from beneath his head to push through his hair. Eddie's fingers twitch with longing against his ribs as he watches.

"Oh yeah? What were you thinking about it?" Eddie asks, his teeth worrying into his lip despite the pain. Steve smiles a little, shakes his head, his arm now resting on his head as he talks to the ceiling.

"I don't know. You uh, you mentioned running away, when Chrissy died. And I don't know, I was standing there thinking, 'he's gonna make a comment about running away to me. I know he is. Cuz I ran away from him.' But you didn't." Steve looks back to Eddie. Eddie's breath catches in his throat at the look Steve is giving him.

"You never said anything about it. Never made a mean comment. But that's just you, isn't it?" Steve asks, his voice is different now, soft in a way Eddie's never heard it.

"What is?" His brow furrows, he's confused. This conversation is not going at all how he'd expected it.

"You're not mean. Like, even when you're angry, you don't like... take it out on people. I mean hell, I don't know that I've even actually seen you genuinely angry. Not about anything that's happened to you." He's moved closer again. Eddie swears he can feel his breath on his face. He definitely just felt Steve's knee bump his, and had to inwardly congratulate himself for not jumping out of the bed and across the room, the way it made his heart flutter he may as well have done all that.

"I've seen you get mad on other people's behalf. But that's like, just you being protective. Which is... attractive." The last word out of his mouth is barely audible. He can't have said what Eddie heard him say.

"It's what?" His hands are shaking, his heart is beating so loud he can hear it, and Steve Harrington is looking at him softly. And then he smiles. Steve fucking smiles. He moves fucking closer. Again. And then reaches out, his hand moving to Eddie's face, fingers moving gently to his lip.

"I said it's attractive. Does that still hurt?" He says it nonchalantly, and then fucking covers it with a question, that fucking smile still on his goddamn lips. Eddie's brain is sinking into some kind of fog, he's been in Steve's presence for too long. That's what's happening. It really doesn't help that all he can fucking smell is Steve. His clothes, the sheets, fucking Steve himself, being so goddamn close. He feels like he's drowning in him.

"No, it's not bad. Did you say you think I'm attractive?" He can't believe he gets the words out. Shocked they don't get stuck in his throat. Steve nods, his fingers moving over Eddie's cheek now, and he knows the skin there must be burning.

"Good. Glad it feels better. And yes. Yes I did." He cups Eddie's cheek then and Eddie can't stop his own hand from moving to Steve's wrist.

"Yeah. Me too." He says, voice shaking. He doesn't address the second comment. Has no idea what he'd even say.

"I've been thinking." Steve says, his thumb soothing over Eddie's hot skin.

"That's dangerous." Eddie tries, tries to joke, tries to lighten this up, not sure he can take this.

"Mhm. 'Specially what I've been thinking." Steve nods, and then he presses his knee between Eddie's, just slots it there like that's where it belongs. Eddie's entire body is shaking now, he's sure he's going to vibrate out of his skin.

"What uh.. what have you been thinking?" He manages to ask, his fingers tightening on Steve's wrist, trying to ground himself. Steve sighs, keeps moving his thumb.

"I've been wondering if your split lip would hurt too much if I kissed you. Cuz I don't wanna hurt you." Steve's eyes drop to Eddie's lips as he licks his own.

"Don't wanna hurt me." Eddie echos.

"Nuh uh." Steve shakes his head, once.

"But you wanna kiss me." Eddie says. Statement. Not a question.

"Yeah. I really do. Is that-" he licks his lips again.

"Is that okay?" There is the smallest amount of self doubt in his voice and that's all Eddie needs to hear before he's nodding, enthusiastically, nearly knocking Steve's hand off of him. Steve laughs then, it's loud in the dark but it's fine, because when the laugh stops he's looking at Eddie with hopeful eyes, and he's pulling Eddie toward him with that dumb smile on his lips and Eddie thinks he might faint.

Steve's lips are soft, and warm, and sweet. Eddie knows he moans into Steve's mouth the second their lips touch, he can't help it. He feels Steve smile agaisnt his mouth and knows he doesn't care. Steve's tongue runs along his bottom lip gently, dragging another moan from him and Steve's hand moves into his hair. His fingers clench around Eddie's hair and hold him still as Steve pulls back to look at Eddie. He just looks at him. Says nothing.

"What? Is everything okay?" Eddie asks, getting worried. Maybe the moaning had been too much, but he's not sure how the fuck he's supposed to control that when Steve is licking into his mouth. Steve pulls his hand from Eddie's hair and moves his thumb over Eddie's lip again.

"You taste like blood." He whispers, and it doesn't sound like a complaint. Eddie licks his lips, his eyes moving over Steve's face.

"You don't." He breathes, he's nearly panting now, this is ridiculous. Steve breathes a laugh, ducks down and presses his lips to Eddie's, moves back again.

"What do I taste like?" He asks, proping himself up on his elbow, his head resting on his hand as he looks down at Eddie.

"Good." Eddie says dumbly, all descriptive words having left his brain the moment Steve Harrington said he wanted to kiss him.

"Good huh?" Steve says, clearly mocking him.

"Really good? I don't know man I'm kind of at a loss for words here." Eddie huffs, shrugging against the sheets. Steve smiles again, leaning down, his lips brushing Eddie's.

"Should've kissed you sooner." He whispers, smiling into the kiss as he deepens it. Eddie whines this time as Steve's leg presses further between his, moving dangerously close. And then Steve's words register in his kiss foggy brain.

"Hey!" He shoves Steve back a little, but not too far.

And steve is laughing, and then pulling Eddie close and kissing his face, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. He moves the kisses down his neck until Eddie is moaning again when Steve drags his teeth over Eddie's collar bone and then Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, settling on his chest as he looks up at him.

"We should get some sleep. You need rest." His hand is cupping Eddie's cheek again, and then pushing his hair out of his face and behind his ear. Eddie nods. And lets himself fall onto Steve's chest, his head resting above his heart. Steve's hand moves into his hair, his fingers moving over Eddie's scalp gently. Eddie's uncle had once called him a cat, because, he'd said, all you had to do was pet Eddie's hair and he'd fall alseep anywhere, turns out he was right. Eddie drifts off to sleep as Steve's fingers move against him, the gentle touches sending him into the dark.

~*~

Eddie wakes to sun in his eyes and Steve Harrington's hand in his hair. He groans as he stretches his leg and rolls off of Steve to stretch his back. Another low groan pulling out of him.

"Jesus Christ. The noises you make are obscene Munson." Steve's groggy voice says, even as he chases after Eddie's warmth, cuddling into his side, his arm gently wrapping around Eddie's middle. Eddie lets out a shaky laugh and moves his hand into Steve's hair, the itch in his fingers finally, finally, sated.

"Am I dreaming?" Eddie asks, his chest suddenly filled with pressure, maybe it was worry, maybe it was happiness, he wasn't sure. So he figured he should ask. And Steve must hear it in his voice because he shifts to look at him, pressing himself up on his hand, so he can look down at Eddie.

"You're not dreaming. This is real." He moves his hand to Eddie's cheek, presses his lips gently to his and then pulls back.

"I'm gonna do that all the time now." Steve says. Matter of fact. And then he lowers himself back to Eddie's chest.

"You make a lot of noises when I kiss you. It's nice." Steve says, his fingers dancing along the waistband of the sweatpants on Eddie's hips. Eddie chuckles and moves his hand back into Steve's hair.

"You caught me off guard. You just wait til I have my wits about me. Then we'll see who's making noises." He says it like a promise, giving Steve's hair a gentle tug. He can feel Steve smiling against his chest, he snuggles closer the harder Eddie pulls on his hair, and that's a good know, Eddie tucks that away as he soothes his hand over the hair he's tousled.

"Can't fucking wait." And the way Steve says it, mumbled sleepily into Eddie's chest, well, that sounds like a promise too.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing #mine #my fic #stranger things fic #stranger things

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otptings · 4 years ago

Text

Double Sided

→Idol; Hendery

→Genre; Possesive Smut

→Word Count; 3.1k+

→Warnings; degradation, thigh riding, possessive, corruption kink, jealous Hendery, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving) , daddy (not so much as a kink), calls you his doll, degradation, somnophilia, auditory exhibitionism, breeding kink,

→Synopsis; Who would've known that Hendery would've had such a different personality than the sweet, goofy man that you met a year ago?

→A/n ~ Hope you enjoy this, I had actually cycled through multiple idols from nct and svt before finally setting on my favorite crackhead, Hendrarrrry. If you liked my one shot please like, reblog, or donate to my Ko-Fi. Feedback is wanted, and requests are open for any idol from enhypen, nct, and svt.

Hendery leaned in close to your ear, lips brushing over it as he spoke.

"Such a good girl for me.” A whimper left your mouth, your skin feeling like it was on fire where his hands gripped your waist.

Hendery was full of surprises. Seemingly so innocent when you first met him, flirting with you shyly before you got gestured to the next member by the staff at the fan meet. Somehow convincing a manager to let him talk to you again, quickly sliding you his number before he got pulled back stage to prepare for the concert. It’s been a year since that fateful day and he was constantly surprising you. Whether it was constantly gifting you presents, or taking you on random dates you were definitely well endowed with his attention.

You knew that wasn’t the only side to Hendery, the side that was always joking around, making you laugh until you felt like your lungs were going to burst. You knew that Hendery had a different side, especially after witnessing his duality at concerts.

This was nothing like you had imagined.

Straddling his thigh while he watched you grind against him, only dressed in one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of panties. Hickeys already marking your throat where Hendery got impatient - read jealous - while watching you talk with your flirty coworker. A smirk on his lips as you watched your thighs shake, head thrown back while your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders.

“So pretty.” He cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him so that your chests were touching, placing a sloppy kiss over your jugular. “All mine.”

You could only whine at his possessiveness, loving the way he tightens around your neck before letting go. Your hips start to stutter as you feel your orgasm nearing, fire burning so bright you felt as if it was going to burn you alive.

“N-need c-cum please.” Hendery’s smirk only grew while he restrained your hips, forcing your orgasm to fade away into nothingness. A sob falling from your lips while you smacked at his hands, your fourth failed orgasm of the night.

Hendery tsked as he rubbed his thumb over your bare hip, feeling his cock hardening at the sound of your dry sobs.

“You know you’re not allowed to cum. Need to show you that no one would make you feel like me.” You nodded your head as Hendery tapped your hip, signaling for you to start up again.

God, your stupid fucking coworker. You don’t even know why you agreed to go to the company holiday party. Typically choosing to just go home and cuddle with Hendery, occasionally with Bella also when Xiao had you dog sitting. You shouldn’t have told Lula that you would definitely be attending, what even came over you? Maybe it was the fact that she was the nicest one in the office, constantly joining you for lunch and becoming a workplace friend. Either way you regret it now.

You definitely regretted bringing Hendery as your date, especially knowing his tendency to get jealous. Witnessing it after Lucas got too cuddling after a few drinks, appointing you and Ten as his items of affection for the night. Hendery had dragged you to his room after witnessing Lucas attempt to sloppily kiss your cheek. He handed you one of his t-shirts before pulling you onto the bed, keeping you in his room and out of the eyes of the other guys.

You saw how antsy he was while watching you get ready, eyeing your body con dress, attempting to subtly pull it further down your thighs. His hands roaming your thighs as he watched you apply makeup. You had only sighed before asking him if he wanted to come, hoping that him being with you would calm him, keeping his jealousy at bay.

He knew you didn’t know that your coworker Jaehyuk would get flirty while drunk. Easily sliding into the empty space beside you Hendery had left when he went to the bathroom. A strained smile on your lips as you awkwardly sipped your drink, eyes flitting around to see if you could find literally anybody else to talk to. Jaehyuk didn’t let you go that easily, unwanted compliments steadily flowing from his mouth. Hendery had actually witnessed the whole thing, not trusting an intoxicated man with you. Only gripping his cup tightly, laughing at his poor attempts to flirt. It wasn’t until Jaehyuk reached out to you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. Hendery hadn’t even heard the whimper that left your mouth, didn’t need to see the fear in your eyes before he was crossing the room and yanking you behind him. Saying a few choice words that left your coworker shaking as Hendery led you quickly out of the building.

Hendery didn’t want to risk you thinking about anyone else, leading to his plan to edge you until he was the only thing on your mind, the name on your tongue.

And so far? It was working exactly as planned.

“Aw look at my jeans baby, you're soaking through them.” Embarrassment flooded through you at his condescending tone. His hands squeezing your hips as he felt them start to stutter again, helping you get off.

“You wanna cum baby?” You eagerly nodded your head, hope in your mind that maybe he would go easy on you after all. You are his baby girl after all. That means he’ll be nice to you right? Right?

“Stand up.” Another sob left your mouth, feeling the pain of another lost orgasm. “Right now.” Hendery’s tone was biting, only wanting you to obey him. You stood up on shaky legs, feeling your panties uncomfortably sticking to your folds. He tsked again as he lifted your shirt, revealing the darkening pastel fabric of your underwear. Teasingly tracing around it, laughing at the way you stiffened when he pressed your clit, sensitive from riding his thigh for an hour.

“Bedroom.” The finality in Hendery’s letting you know that there wasn’t room for argument. Quickly heading to the bedroom you wasted time laying on his bed, waiting for his next instruction.

“Do you think you deserve my dick baby? You were awfully friendly with him today.” You shook your head hurriedly, as you tried to get on your knees only for him to push you back down.

“I need you, please Hendery. S’ wet for you. Need you to ruin me.” Hendery’s smirk only grew at your choice of words. Quickly removing his clothes before coming closer to the bed, running his hands over your thighs so he could watch the way that you squirm. Knowing just how much you’ll come to regret your words.

“Mm really? Want me to ruin you?”

“Please.” Hendery’s hand slid up your thighs, squeezing them intermediately before moving to the hem of your underwear, sliding his finger underneath the elastic. Pulling them to the side to admire your pussy that was glistening from your arousal.

“Aw you want me to fuck you like you’re a slut? Nothing more than my dumb little toy.”

You gasped as he blew on your clit, cold air causing you to twitch and grind your hips against the hair. Hendery only repeated the action before licking a line up your cunt, moaning as he tasted your arousal.

“My little slut tastes so good. No wonder Jaehyuk tried to get a taste.” Before you could even show your distaste at hearing that name in such an intimate time Hendery was attaching his lips to your clit. Hands flying down to tangle themselves in his dark hair, hips attempting to grind against his face when he placed a hand on your stomach, keeping your hips pinned to the bed so that you were at his mercy. Only able to pull on his hair and writhe uselessly at the onslaught of pleasure until Hendery got tired of it. And Hendery never got tired of eating pussy.

30 minutes of pure torture. Whenever he felt you clenching around his tongue too much, or a moan would get a little too loud he’d slow down. Blow on your clit, and wait for you to start to sob before going back in. Sucking on your clit even harder before repeating the process, ruining so many orgasms that you felt as if you were going insane. All of your thoughts were of Hendery and your absolute need to have him in you.

“Aw poor little baby. Look at you, trying to hump the air cause I’m not touching you.” Hendery’s condescending tone only added to his constant teasing, and belittling. Hendery loved making you like this, absolutely dick dumb. Your eyes were completely glazed over while your body shook from your dry sobs. Something so alluring knowing that you completely wanted him, hearing the constant begging leaving your swollen lips.

Leaning in he placed his lips on yours. It took a minute for your addled mind to realize what was happening. When the confusion cleared you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him down so that he was flush against your chest, his shirt rubbing almost uncomfortably over your sensitive nipples. His hands went to your waist, squeezing them gently before sliding his hands up under your shirt, cupping your breasts and enjoying the way that you moaned into his mouth. Quickly Hendery went to work, squeezing and flicking your nipples while his tongue slid into your work, licking into your mouth and sliding over the back of your teeth. Fingers dancing down your sides before slipping into your underwear, two fingers circling over your hole before shoving them inside of you, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth at the unexpected intrusion.

Pleads leaving your mouth when he attached his lips to your throat, sucking bruises higher up your throat. So many that you wouldn’t be able to hide them next time you say your ‘flirty’ coworker’. No way that any simple excuse would work for it, everyone would instantly know what happened and who did it. Practically branding his name into your throat, everyone being able to see that you’re his. All his to do whatever he wanted to. His little doll. His slut.

His finger’s steadily massaged over your sweet spot, thumb rubbing over your clit. Your hips were grinding against his hand, whining at the intense need to cum, scared that he was going to pull away at the last minute and cause actual tears.

“You're so close, baby. Cum for me. Cum for daddy.” Hendery drank in all of your moans as you orgasmed, still working his fingers inside of you while placing sloppy kisses along your neck, one kiss for each bruise. Pulling his fingers out and placing them in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of your cum that coated his fingers. Watching as your eyes slowly fluttered open to look at him, watching him clean his fingers with a content sigh. Fire already starting to burn again, knowing that the only way you would be satisfied is for him to fuck you.

“Kunhang please.” You rarely said his actual name during sex, so this was more than a pleasant surprise. His cock throbbed hearing it roll off your tongue, and he realized while he was teasing you he was also teasing himself the same exact way. Pulling his fingers from his mouth he quickly helped you take off your shirt, throwing it across the room before hastily taking his jeans off, almost falling off the bed in his haste. A quiet giggle left the both of you when he finally plopped back down, pulling you on top of him, swiftly kissing you again. Less dirty than earlier, but just as needy on both of your parts. Hands entangling in your hair before roughly forcing you to sit up, watching you arch back into nothing.

“Come on baby. You want me baby right?” Hendery smirked while watching you eagerly nod your head. “Then ride me baby. Fuck yourself on my dick.”

Hendery released your hair and watched how you quickly moved to sit on his cock, barely bothering to pull your panties to the side. Another loud moan leaving your mouth as you felt your tight cunt stretch around his dick, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself.

“Come on slut. You were begging for my dick right?” A hard slap to your ass punctuated his sentence, causing you to clench unconsciously around his dick. “Then move.”

You started to bounce on him, setting a frantic pace nervous that if you didn’t he wouldn’t let you cum again. You could not handle another lost orgasm. Hendery rewarded you with a deep groan, gripping your hips tightly as you rode him like you were on a mission. His dick sliding over all of your sweet spots, the fire in your stomach growing intensely. You tried so hard to get yourself there, not wanting to disappoint him but your thighs started to shake. Already weak from being edged for almost two hours, and they only started to burn at the intense pace you had set, spreading up your hips and down to your knees.

“Can’t.” You cried out, trying to keep your set pace. Hendery’s fingers dug into your waist. You were certainly going to have bruises of his hand prints all over you.

“Can’t wait. My dumb doll can’t ride dick?” Hendery set his heels into the bed, before fucking up into you as you continued to cry that you can’t.

“You wanted my dick. But can’t even ride my dick.” Hendery grunted as he resumed the pace you set, fucking up into you hard. Your mouth hanging open, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “So fucking pathetic. My dumb fucking doll.” Hendery slid one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it roughly with his hand causing your second orgasm to hit you, cum squirting out of you and coating his thighs and stomach. At the feeling of you clenching around him he couldn’t himself and came, continuing to fuck his cum deeper into you, only stopping as you started to whine. Wrapping his arms around you, not bothering to pull out as he turned you both to the sides.

“I’m tired.” Hendery laughed at how childish you were speaking, cuddling your head further onto his chest.

“Take a nap doll. Just know we’re not done yet.” You sighed before taking his advice, the room slowly darkening and the sound of his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

God, you should’ve stayed awake. You knew he was planning something funny when he told you to sleep, but you hadn’t imagined he would wake you up with his slow thrusts, hands on either side of you while you bit the pillow below you, attempting to muffle your moans. The sounds of people stirring in the dorm caused slight fear to flow through you, panic at the thought of Ten coming into the room and seeing Hendery fucking you.

You tried to bury your face further into the pillow but Hendery had other plans, pulling your hips up so that you were on four and grabbing your hair. Yanking it causing your mouth to drop open and a loud moan to echo through the room. You already knew without seeing them that the boys had heard it, the sound of shuffling feet and forks hitting bowls stopping it briefly. You could already imagine Ten, and Lucas’ cocky smirks at the sound, Winwin’s face turning bright red from embarrassment, while Kun just tried to change the topic because of Xiao and Yangyang asking too many questions. It wasn’t the first time that they had heard you, and knowing Hendery it wouldn’t be the last.

“You're thinking about them hearing us.” You tried to deny it but Hendery only slapped your ass, the smack resounding throughout the room and if you didn’t know better you could almost hear one of the boys saying ‘ouch’. “The way you’re clenching around me. Thinking about one of them walking in huh? See me fucking my kids deeper into your messy cunt, still dripping with my cum from earlier.” Another loud moan, and an awkward cough from the other room. White, hot shame flooded your veins, knowing you wouldn’t be able to face the boys afterwards.

Teeth digging into your lip, trying to protect the little bit of dignity you still had around the boys. Hendery didn’t like that one. Grabbing your hands and holding them against your back, forcing your arch to deepen. In this position every thrust hit your g spot directly, and you weren’t able to muffle your moans, only able to helplessly drool at the intense sensations. Your continuous lack of noise was only angering Hendery, wanting all of the boys to know how good he makes you feel. They would never be able to see you like this, dick dumb and drooling, only able to mumble as he fucked into you like this.

“Dumb fucking doll. Feel so good you can’t even moan huh?” Pulling your arms you groaned from the pain as he pulled you back into his chest, free hand sliding around to play with your poor, swollen clit. Abusing it once more as he rubbed sloppy circles over it, pressing his thumb against it harshly causing a scream to leave your mouth.

“My dumb doll. My little fucking slut. All mine.” You felt yourself clench around him, orgasm rapidly approaching along with some pain from overstimulation.

“Cum for me doll, all over my dick just like this.” With one last well placed bite from Hendery at the base of your throat you felt your orgasm wash over you. Warm, tears flowing down your face as he continued to fuck into you, squirting more of his thick, hot cum into your tired cunt. Hendery slowly pulled out, laying you onto the bed before tossing on some sweatpants and heading to the bathroom.

After very thorough aftercare, you were sitting in bed with Hendery, eating noodles while watching some random movie that he had put on, Bella sensing your slightly distressed state was curled up on your lap. Glancing over at Hendery you watched as he laughed before shoving noodles into his mouth, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

No matter how many sides he had to, you loved each one of them.

⇣Random Crack Dialogue⇣

“Should we go check on her? It’s been an hour since we’ve heard anything.”

“I don’t even want to sleep in my bed, they’ve contaminated the whole room.” Ten whined while throwing himself onto Lucas.

“Let them be, we all saw how Hendery grinned at us while getting the food. He’s doing all this on purpose.”

“It is weird to say I’m proud of him.” All of them turned to Yangyang, who only shrugged his shoulders as he went back to stealing Winwin’s chips. “I mean out of everybody I would’ve thought that Lucas would be the first one to do that.”

“Hey! Can you guys believe him?”

Silence ensued, as everybody believed it.

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

Text

🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces

↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀

word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7

WARNINGS. ⚠️ all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack

⌜ 💋 byun baekhyun ⌟

▸ strength: energy

not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that

i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.

case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.

whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.

yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter

small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well

endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire

like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised

meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation

such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes

swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun

does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do

eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him

the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout

slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams

baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake

brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me

also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined

not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him

you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO

since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something

you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so

another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass

⌜ 💋 lee taemin ⌟

▸ strength: steaminess

you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie

yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal

taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit

it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you

probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure

prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means

once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding

loves drowning it seems

raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly

most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this

his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh

is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan

might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible

always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising

and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you

he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards

bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid

so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it

that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god

⌜ 💋 kim jongin ⌟

▸ strength: escalating

just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down

jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump

since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see

jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there

constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out

so thirsty

if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place

rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography

also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on

does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy

most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself

if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here

absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah

those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this

wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more

kai. is. so. good.

you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum

don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it

uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes

might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it

can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out

being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there?

fucking typical capricorn

⌜ 💋 wong yukhei ⌟

▸ strength: appetite

first off yukhei is hilarious

it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)

gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine

giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience

though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once

don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that

and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war

that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described

lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview

he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything

if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time

noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining

his tongue is... big...

we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway

what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully

though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops

he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going

sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.

lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.

totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him

less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all

stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him

⌜ 💋 mark lee ⌟

▸ strength: speed

talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste

mark basically chokes himself

he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then

next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes

mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you

that’s a healthy young man right here

loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons

all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result

so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear?

few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!

the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright

this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute

don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods

but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.

loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay

but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie

his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you.

it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that

he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off

in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself

that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know

thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so

enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it

needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow

long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session

all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly

⌜ 💋 ten lee ⌟

▸ strength: allround skill

you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand

and by the way he’s chugging one himself

champion, a keeper

you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing

takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds

everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here

take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently

chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times.

ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner.

you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk

that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place.

ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot

through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on

the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck

ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit

you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes

those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic

since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat

ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs.

enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.

uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped

wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut

sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist

among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much

always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right

the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him

in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen

⌜ 💋 lee taeyong ⌟

▸ strength: ideas

how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get

as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different

reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode

you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can

yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense

very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy

intense facial expressions, need i say more

also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit

taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth

let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect

one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000

imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like

taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS

nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up

has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out

beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start.

you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge

even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops

hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh

then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others

especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.

looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor

long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye

superm masterlist

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live-the-fangirl-life · 4 years ago

Text

Trowel and Error

I Dig You Part 3

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn AU

Now on a first-name basis, Dr. Rowan Whitethorn and Dr. Aelin Galathynius find themselves struggling to keep up their professional demeanor. And when a new bone is found on site, Rowan learns that Aelin's expertise extends beyond the human body.

The continued love and support for this piece is blowing my mind. I am having a blast writing this, I am so happy you like reading it. Hopefully, there's enough fluff and pining in this chapter to balance the technical jargon.

Part 2 | Part 4 | Fic Masterlist

Warnings: Human Remains (Non Graphic)

2426 words

*******

Muttering to herself, Aelin was trying to decipher her notes in Fenrys’ writing. Between his fast-paced script and random comments comparing bones to cereal pieces, it was taking her longer to get through than she’d prefer.

Leaning back in her chair she sighed. Maybe she should take a break. Perhaps a walk around the site to clear her head and get some fresh air. And see a certain lead archaeologist.

“Dr. Galathyinus!”

Aelin whirled around from the laptop she was using to type up her report. A small group of young students had stepped into her workstation. One, the boy at the front of the group who was holding a small container very carefully, looked excited. The other two students, who she noted didn't come in as far, looked warily at the bodies laid out on the observation tables

But Aelin’s attention was dragged to the man standing behind the students. The man who Aelin had just been about to try to accidentally run into.

He ran a hand through his silver hair and shot her an apologetic look at the intrusion.

The boy in front, Luca, she reminded herself─she had been trying to learn everyone's names but it was a bit difficult when she spent most of her time in her workstation and not in the dig pit─stepped forward.

“You gotta see what we found!” He thrust the box he was holding towards her. “We were digging the new test pit and Dr. Whitethorn was showing us how to use the trowels without breaking them,” He looked so excited about what he was about to tell her that she refrained from asking him to slow down. “We were just digging, and of course it was all dirt, dirt, dirt,” he glanced at Rowan who was fighting his own smile at the boy’s enthusiasm.

“Sorry Dr. Whitethorn, I mean it was all sediment. Dirt doesn't exist in archaeology, use something more specific” Lucca finished, imitating Rowan’s teaching voice.

That caused Aelin to smile, even as─especially as─Rowan scowled.

“Anyways,” the boy rushed on, turning back to Aelin. “We were digging and suddenly we saw something that wasn't dirt─sediment, sorry sir─and we had to be careful not to break anything in case it was something cooler than just a rock. Not that rocks aren't cool,” he paused, looking embarrassed, “don’t let my geology professor hear me say that.”

The enthusiasm of young students never failed to make Aelin happy. Her smile stretched into a grin. Rowan watched Aelin listen to Luca and lost the scowl on his own face, replacing it with a grin to match her own.

Luca got back on track. “So we dug around it.” Glancing at Rowan, he added, “keeping level the whole time, of course.” Turning back towards Aelin, he continued. “And we found this!”

He removed the cloth that was covering whatever had been in the box.

“More bones!” He looked so proud.

Several different thoughts ran through her head at once.

Why is there only one bone?

What happened to the rest of the skeleton?

Did they leave more in the pit?

No, she doubted Rowan would have let them take one and leave the rest.

But the one thing she immediately knew─and knew would crush the poor boy who looked so thrilled to have found more human remains for her─was this:

That’s definitely not human.

The moment Aelin saw what was in the box, Rowan watched her face turn from intrigued to confused to an almost reluctantly apologetic one. Their eyes locked as she glanced away from the bone. A small smile lit her face before she turned to take the box from Luca. Placing it gently down on an open table, she carefully removed the dusty bone.

It was a scapula.

Clearly, not a human one, but the boy looked so excited that she knew she’d have to be gentle about letting him down.

“Thank you for bringing this to me,” she offered him a smile she usually reserved for her anxious students. “I’ll take a closer look at this, but, I’m sorry to tell you, this isn't a human scapula.”

His face dropped, and the two students behind him seemed a little relieved about finding out the bone they helped uncover didn't come from a person. Rowan stepped forward to get a better look at the bone she was holding.

“You two,” he nodded towards the students in the back, “are free to go back to the pit.” They were out the door before he finished his sentence. Huffing a laugh, he brought his gaze back to Aelin and a disappointed-looking Luca.

Staring at the bodies on the table next to him, Luca pleaded, “Are you sure?”

Luca looked at the bone in her hand longingly. Then his head snapped back up towards Aelin with a faint blush staining his cheeks and added, “Sorry Dr. Galathynius. Of course, you're sure, you know what you’re talking about.” He sighed. “Okay, well I guess I’ll go back and see if I can find anything else cool.”

When Rowan nodded his approval, Luca turned and walked out of her workstation.

She glanced up at Rowan before returning her attention to the brown, dirt-covered, bone. Sorry, sediment-covered bone, she thought with a smirk.

“Poor kid,” Aelin commented, still turning over the scapula, “he was so excited.”

She appreciated how excited the boy had been. She remembered her own eagerness when she had first started working with bones, realizing that studying them was what she loved and wanted to spend her time doing.

Rowan watched her become entranced with the intricacies of the bone. “He was.”

Aelin could feel his eyes on her as she felt a rough edge, and heard his accent deepen as he continued to say, “But he'll find something new to keep him excited about the dig.”

She could’ve sworn he stepped closer at that. Dragging her eyes from the bone, she met his stare. Yes, he had inched closer to her, forcing her to look up even farther to meet his gaze.

She swallowed and noticed his eyes dip to track the movement.

“May I?” He murmured, gesturing to the bone she now loosely gripped.

Blinking, Aelin cleared her throat.

“Yeah,” she subtly shook herself, “Mm, yes, you may.” She handed him the bone and their fingers brushed as he took it from her. They both looked down at the contact and the physical touch seemed to jolt them both back to reality.

Ugh, they were working. They were standing in her workstation, two feet away from a couple of long-dead bodies, where anyone could walk in and see─

See what?

What was happening? They had gotten on a first name basis and ever since─or before that, if she was being honest with herself─she knew she felt some tension, some spark...but she couldn't tell if it was all in her head.

She didn't think so. Not with how he had just been looking at her.

But they were colleagues. Gods, how many times did she have to remind herself of that.

Regardless of whether or not she was making up the heat between them, they still had to work together for the rest of the season and she didn't want to make things weird or awkward and still have to see his face every day. His handsome, tan, face.

He was her friend, of that much she was certain. A first-name basis meant friends. She could pull it together and ignore her non-friendly thoughts.

Her ‘If you wanted to bend me over this table right now, I would whole-heartedly let you’ thoughts.

Not now, Aelin! She was a professional, she had her PhD. for gods’ sake. She was here to do a job. She could do this.

Rowan’s voice pulled her back into the moment.

“You knew immediately that this wasn't human,” Rowan flipped the bone around in his hand, “How?”

Squaring her shoulders and taking another deep breath she looked at the flat, paddle-like bone.

Teacher-mode time.

She pointed to the broad, triangular surface, “For starters,” she ran her finger along the top, leveled edge. “The Blade of a human scapula is rounder, elongated, and points outwards on an angle.”

Lifting a human scapula from one set of remains from the table beside her, she showed him what she meant. Side-by-side he could see how different they looked. He supposed it wasn't surprising that someone like Aelin, who spent her time constantly looking at different sets of human remains, wouldn't need the comparison to instantly know there was a difference.

Bringing his attention back to the new bone, she said “This one’s Blade has a very flat top, almost like,” she paused trying to think of something to equate it to, “a spatula.”

Rowan snorted, “The spatula scapula?”

Grinning, she quipped, “Try saying that five times fast.”

He matched her grin.

She held out her hand and he gave her back the bone as she placed the human one back on the table.

“That flat edge,” she continued, “tells me that this belonged to an ungulate, not a carnivore. Something like a cow, or a horse, or a deer.”

Aelin flipped the scapula in her hand so that he could see the round, concave, indentation on the opposite end.

“This,” she felt the indent just big enough to fit her thumb, “is the Glenoid Fossa. This is what the humerus would use to rotate at the shoulder. You can see that this one,” she motioned around its edge, “is very round, almost circular.” He watched her trace the space of it.

The way her fingers glided along the edge almost reverently. He wouldn’t mind watching her fingers move along other things.

Aelin kept explaining, “One on a human looks more like a rounded teardrop. Based on the shape I know that this is either from a Bovid: some kind of cow, sheep, or goat; or a Cervid: a deer or elk-like animal.”

Her brow scrunched and she pursed her lips in concentration. For a moment, he thought she may have forgotten he was there, she was so lost in thought studying the bone.

Trying to wrap his head around everything she was telling him, Rowan leaned closer to see the features more clearly. He admitted that her without-a-doubt explanation was impressive. And wondered if he’d be able to show her some of his work with the same enthusiasm. He hoped.

Aelin allowed herself a moment to appreciate his closeness before returning to the bone in hand. How did he smell so good after being out in the pit all day? Was that pine? It was incredibly unfair. And incredibly distracting.

She showed him a round protrusion coming off the side of the Glenoid Fossa. “This is the Supraglenoid Tubercle.”

Rowan knew it took a special kind of person to make words like Supraglenoid Tubercle sound fascinating. And Aelin most certainly did.

“You can feel the sides of it.” She showed him where she meant and he gently placed a finger on either side of the bone.

It took a lot of energy to stop her train of thought as she watched him use his thumb and forefinger to grip the rounded nub.

Deep breath, Aelin.

“You can,” she cleared her throat, “you can feel that it's mostly round. There aren't extra concavities on it. If there were, then those would indicate that this came from a Cervid.”

Pulling herself back into her professional, non-teenage-like hormonal, state of mind she concluded.

“Based on those features, I can tell you that this comes from some sort of Bovid.” She turned the bone again to see a different angle. Concentrating, trying to remember all she knew, she sighed. “It’s definitely Bovid, but I don't know enough about faunal remains to give you a species.”

After placing the bone back in the box, she looked up at him again.

“Based on the size I want to say it’s going to be either a sheep or a goat, but I don't know enough about faunal remains or,” she nodded her head towards the door, indicating the dig site outside, “enough about the historical context of this site during the time period to give you an accurate species. The taxa is the best I can do.”

If that's what she could do without ‘knowing enough’ about faunal remains, Rowan knew he’d be impressed by whatever a specialist could figure out.

Although he doubted he'd enjoy their explanations more than Aelin's.

Looking around her supplies thoughtfully she said, “Back when I was an undergrad, I took a full course on zooarchaeology.”

“Zooarchaeology,” he laughed, “I always liked that that's what we call the study of animal bones in archaeology. Every time I hear it I think of people trying to dig around in zoo enclosures.”

She laughed at that, and Rowan felt proud of himself for getting her to make that sound.

Smiling wistfully, Aelin told him, “I had this binder full of beautiful, detailed notes and illustrations of different bones. We learned how to determine a dozen different taxa of animals.” Sighing again, she went on. “But I didn't bring those notes with me, I think they are still in my office back home.”

A thought occurred to her and she brightened immediately. She faced Rowan with a satisfied look.

“I have a colleague, she’s my friend really, who’s amazing at faunal examination. I can give her a call and see if she can figure out what species this,” she motioned to the bone, “came from.”

That sounded like a good plan. He also began thinking of local specialists who might know more about the animals of this particular area, maybe one of them could give some insight.

Tilting her head to the side and smiling, Aelin held Rowan’s gaze, “If you know the species then you, Mr. Lead Archaeologist, can better determine why exactly it was there in the first place.”

He smirked.

“Studying up on my processes, Aelin?” Rowan questioned with a raised brow.

He was teasing her for the comment she made about him knowing there were eight different carpal bones.

He liked teasing her. He liked calling her Aelin even more.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, her smile morphing into a smirk to rival his own, she replied, “Unlike you, Rowan, I didn't need to study up, I already all know about your processes.”

He decided he liked when she called him Rowan, most of all.

***

Part 2 | Part 4

*****

If you’d like to be tagged shoot me a message or reply!

Taglist:

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@becarefuloflove

@bisexual-genderfluid-fan

@emily-gsh

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 4 years ago

Note

Ooh request:

Reader and Hotch are together (either in the open or a secret from the team) she finds out she’s pregnant, but they get called on a case so she keeps it to herself. Reader & another team member get taken and she tells the person with her while they are held captive. Eventually rest of team finds them but either reader has to tell Hotch in front of everyone or she is unconscious and the other person does. You decide 😌

Surprise

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: none

Keep sending in your requests guys!! The amount of feedback I’ve been receiving is amazing and I really do appreciate all of you 💜

MASTERLIST

———-

“Aaron, you busy?”

Walking in his office I shut the door behind me as he looked up from his computer, smile prominent on his face

“For you, never” sitting down by his desk I fiddled with my fingers, something I do when I’m nervous

Yesterday I had found out that I was pregnant, I had planned on telling him and Jack over dinner but he had to stay late to finish up some work and before I had the chance of doing it this morning he had left for an early meeting with Strauss

“Everything okay?” snapping out of my train of thought I started back at his confused state

“Yeah, yeah, we just need t-“ the sound of his phone ringing filled the quiet office, sighing he excused himself and answered the call

Great, now I’m gonna have to wait to tell him that he’s gonna be a father of two

You could always blurt it out and be like ‘Hey guess what, I’m pregnant!’

Nope, I’m definitely not doing that

“We’ll be there” hanging up the phone he rose from his seat

“We’re are we going?” pushing myself up on my feet I stuffed my hands in my pockets. Aaron walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist

“Texas, you were saying we needed to talk?”

“It could wait, let’s go” I quickly pecked his lips before heading back into the bullpen

Damn you criminals

———-

“Anything?” Spencer asked breathless from our chase on the two unsubs in the dark cornfield

“Nothing” my chest heaved every breath I took, we stood next to each other eyes scanning our surroundings as best as we could considering that it was pitch black

“Maybe we should head back to the others” nodding I turned to face him only to be met with a falling Spencer

“Spence?” dropping to the ground I tried to turn him over but failed as I felt my limbs give away

No, no, no, no this cannot be happening right now

They trapped us and shot us with tranquilizer darts, how fun

“Well would you look at that, we got ourselves two federal agents” my eyes drifted from the starry sky to Spencer who was already staring at me

The rustling of leaves and footsteps were heard as they came closer to where we lay. The older one, Lucas lowered himself and smirked at me, running his fingers through my hair

“We’re going to have a lot of fun” his large hand came around my throat, squeezing hard, thanks to my lack of movement I couldn’t fight back. Tears pricked my eyes as he continued to squeeze harder, coughing and gasping I tried to hold out for as long as I possibly could

Unfortunately for me, that didn’t last long as the darkness took over

———-

“Y/L/N, Reid, do you copy?”

Silence, that’s never happened before

“Y/N, Spencer are you there?” my eyebrows knitted together in confusion as they didn’t respond

“Does anyone have a visual on Y/N and Spencer?”

“Nope”

“No”

“Negative”

Everyone responded with no luck, God this cannot be happening

“Hotch I found their vests, coms and weapons”

———-

“There she is”

Groggily I opened my eyes and the first thing I see is the ceiling above me. Turning my head to the side I saw Spencer chained to a nearby chair. I tried to move my arms but surprise surprise, they’re retrained to the table that I’m on

“Trying to leave already darlin” Lucas trailed his fingers across my cheek, smiling down at me

“Can we skip all the small talk? I’m getting irritated” staring him dead in his eyes I spoke, I’ll be damned if I show this man that I was indeed freaking out

“Feisty, I love it” he started undoing the buttons on my shirt, his cold fingers brushing against my stomach as he went lower

“You really wanna rape a pregnant woman?” he froze his actions

“Are you?”

“Three months today, is this what you really want to do? Harming a mother and her unborn baby?” he grunted before angrily stomping out of the room. Looking over at Spencer I couldn’t miss the huge smile he has on his face

“You’re pregnant”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, chained to our deathbed and this is your takeaway right now?” I couldn’t help but laugh at our predicament

“Does Hotch know?” he stuck his fingers in his back pocket fishing for something as he continued talking

He’s up to something, whatever it is boy genius I hope it works

“No, he doesn’t” I sighed, regret and guilt washing over me as I laid here

“I can’t get to pick this stupid lock” just as he said that the walker brothers walked in

“You trying to leave boy!” they younger one, Liam charged forward and punched Spencer earning a groan in return

“Don’t touch him!” I fought against my restraints which was a complete waste of time and energy

“Shut up!” Lucas smacked me across my face

“Y/N, I could take it”

-------

“Garcia did you manage to get anything else on the twins?” my grip on the steering wheel tightened as I sped down the street

“I did sir, Lucas and Liam grew up on a farm in Driftwood, Texas”

“I thought they were from Dallas” Rossi piped up from the passenger seat

“That is what came up in my inital search, but I did some more digging and found out that their mother, Riley Barnes, isn’t Riley Barnes but Stacey Colt”

“Do we have an address on where she lives?”

“Uh, sir she’s dead, she took her own life six months ago after years of being abused by her husband”

“That’s around the same time young women started disappearing”

“Garcia I need her last known address, I think they’re holding them there”

“Already on your device” the call disconnected and my foot pressed harder on the gas. Rossi shifted in his seat tugging on his seatbelt

“Uh Aaron, I get that we’re against a clock here to get our people back but we can’t do that if we’re both dead from a car crash”

“Sorry” I eased my foot off the pedal a bit

“They’re strong, she’s strong”

———

“Spencer! Stop hurting him!!!” tears of frustration and anger poured from my eyes as they kept beating on him

“You don’t call the shots sweetheart”

“Spencer!!” he grunted from the blow to his stomach, his face had cuts and nasty bruises that were sure to be there for some days

“FBI!” Morgan’s voice echoed throughout the room as the team rushed in. Lucas whipped out his knife and held it against my throat and I tensed up at the feeling of the steel blade on my skin

“Drop the weapons” Aaron ordered and he laughed

“You come any closer I’ll kill ‘em both!” his hand reached down to mine and undid the shackles. He moved me to my feet and held his blade against my neck using me as a shield

“You guys know exactly how this is going to end so just drop your weapons” Aaron and I stared at each other

“You’re not going to do that” he taunted them nudging me

“Tell them why” my heart rate sped up as he pressed the blade harder on my neck

“Tell them!”

“I’m pregnant”

As the words left my mouth Aaron’s frown deepened and before I knew what was happening two hun shots rang out and Lucas fell to the ground, blood pouring out from the bullet wound in his forehead. Looking over at Reid I noticed the lifeless body of Liam that laid before him

“Spence” the others rushed to his aid while I stood frozen in my spot

“You’re okay” Aaron wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against his tall frame. I finally let out the breath that I had been holding in as I clung onto him

“We’re gonna have a baby” he kissed my forehead and pulled back so I could see his face

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this”

“Congratulations you two, we’ll celebrate properly when we get back” Dave came over and kissed both of our cheeks, the others followed his lead

“I hope it’s a girl, this team cannot be bringing boys alone into this world” Derek joked and we laughed. Aaron pulled me closer to his side as local P.D. filled the room

“Once the baby’s healthy I’m fine”

EMS came and sat me down on a chair and started looking me over for any injuries while they all gushed about the growing baby inside of me

“There’s no way you’re going to be in the field, you’ll be traveling with us but you’ll only be at the station working through the case files and no, it’s not up for negotiation” Aaron stated in full boss mode not even giving me a chance to argue with him

“Understood” they others chuckled at his sudden change in tone

“Good, our job is done here let’s get going, I believe we were promised a party”

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaronhotchnerimagine #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaronhotchner

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kyofsonder · 2 years ago

Note

For Tiny Scene Sunday, Martin Pond + silver + whimsy + crisp.

Thank you for the ask, and for the prompt! This one was fun because I got to write something that would never show up in the WIP it's from -- get to know Martin and the world he lives in a little better.

I'm not entirely sure how clear I was with the setting in-scene, but Martin is from a "Love as Indicated" story where there are only two circumstances that let people hear each other's voices: Fated Soulmate Connections such as Fated Lovers or Fated Family, and a singer being gifted a voice by Fate herself that can be heard by anyone in the world as long as it's owner is singing. They're called Pro Singers, and Martin Pond has a job managing one such Pro.

Here's the scene/short story itself, under the cut.

Everything should be perfect. Well, alright. Maybe not perfect, but it definitely shouldn't feel like the world is about to end. What's world-ending about a leisurely walk with an old friend? That friend is also one of the most famous singers in two decades and Martin is his manager. He's also been uncharacteristically distracted, talking to himself without sparing any more than a wave hello for Martin. That's a little weird, but it shouldn't make his stomach curl in on itself like an armadillo trying to escape a predator. What could be so bad about going to their favorite old café to have casual conversation. The autumn air is crisp, the smell of coffee is sharp and invigorating in the air, and everyone is doing double takes because they all know full well how big a deal it is to be in proximity to Lucas "Lucky" Chance. Again. What could possibly be wrong here?

The men simply nodded at the barista when they get to the café and that's all it takes to get their usual orders started. In no time at all, they're sitting at the most tucked-away table they can find and Lucky's eyes are finally on Martin. There's no hint of the usual lighthearted whimsy in his eyes, no characteristic dimples on his cheeks. His smile is just a cushion. A thing held up to soften the blow. Martin shakes his head but says nothing. He's not above begging, it's just that he still hopes that world-ending feeling is wrong.

"I think you know what I'm going to say, Mar," even his hands are slow, every sign like a drawn-out whisper to someone who can't handle a louder tone. More cushions.

"You're a Pro. You were born with a voice that the whole world can hear, and it sounds good. You don't get to just walk away from that," Martin signs fast and sharp, as if to tear up the cushions offered to him.

"It's fading. You know it is. We've had to redo recordings more than once. Only my family can hear it now."

"What family?"

"My wife and child. We got married. She's already in her second trimester. I'm going to be a dad. I can't keep this up while doing that. I'll go gray early, at best."

"We could market you as a silver fox."

"You know it's more than that. I have a home now. I'm not a touring wanderer anymore."

"You can do both."

"You would make me?"

Martin's movements stop. The intentional smile is gone from Lucky's face. In its place, there's a sadness that his manager has never seen before. A disappointment. The phone in Martin's pocket vibrates with a text telling him their order is ready. He gets up to collect their drinks, pauses, and says, "It'll be hard to replace you."

Lucky grins, "It'll be impossible. Good luck finding second best."

It's the first thing that's made Martin smile all day, but it doesn't do much good. His gut was wrong about the world ending. It was only his career.

* * * *

Motivated by This Ask: 512 words

Total Written Due to Asks: 13,980 words

#writing #tiny scene sunday #sonder stories #sonder snippets #apparently #I define tiny as <800 words #does that count #or am I just writing full stories at that point #I get carried away so easily #bonus fact #Martin does in fact find a replacement #Lucky just doesn't expect it to be his own son #Ethan is scouted early #due to his family connections with Martin #he's already a successful Pro Singer by middle school #Lucky has mixed feelings about this #somewhat surprisingly #so does Martin

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mourntheantagonist · 4 years ago

Text

#HarringroveApril Day 20: Breeze

***

Steve never volunteered himself as the party’s designated chauffeur, that life simply chose him. He was gifted with his own walkie, which felt less like a gift, and more like their little leash on him, making sure he didn’t have the excuse not to drive them somewhere. It would be nine in the morning and Dustin’s voice would sound over the speaker, high frequencies from interference piercing his ears making falling back to sleep seem like something impossible, especially considering Dustin Henderson was absolutely relentless and would continue to scream for Steve to wake up until he ultimately gave into his demands to drive them to the arcade or the mall or anywhere really.

And Steve was just glad to have a reason to get dressed and get out of the house.

So Steve was their little emergency hotline that was never actually used for emergencies. So he wasn’t surprised when Dustin called him up early on a Saturday morning for yet another ride, he just picked up with a “Where to this time? Arcade again?” in a groggy voice, his eyes squinting from the morning light blinding him through his window.

“No. Skate park actually.”

Steve shook his head like he’d heard that wrong. “You don’t skate.”

“Yeah, but Max does.” Dustin said, in a tone suggesting that Steve was being ridiculous.

“Dude I thought you were over her. Isn’t she with Lucas?” Steve was just rubbing at his eyes trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“She dumped him.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, again. That’s why we need you to drive us so he can get her back.”

Steve didn’t feel like asking why she broke up with him, or more precisely, what Lucas did to make her break up with him, way too tired and he was sure he’d get an earful on the drive over anyway. He just said a tired “Alright” and pulled himself the rest of the way out of bed.

Steve didn’t usually stay to hang out. He was more the “drop off” and “pick up” kind of chauffeur, but the sun was out and the temperature was warm but not too warm and there was a comfortable breeze on his skin. He was already dressed and had nothing better to do, and he was sure that watching Lucas beg for Max back would be far more entertaining than anything he could get on the TV at home.

While Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will all stood in the corner, huddled together while they went over the “game plan”, Steve took to a bench on the side and watched some of the skaters in the bowl.

He watched a kid who couldn’t be much older than twelve wipe out as soon as he dropped in, scraping up his hands and knees and it took a lot out of Steve not to go all “mama bear” and help him. Fortunately some older kid had dropped in and helped him up before Steve felt like he had to. The guy gently picked him up and lifted him up to the side of the bowl and handed over his board.

“Shake it off kid. You’ll get it eventually if you keep practicing.” He said, tousling the kids hair causing him to wipe away the tears and smile, and Steve knew that voice, and he should have realized instantly just at that dirty blonde mullet alone.

And of course he was the next to drop in, and unlike the kid who preceded him, he didn’t fall over.

Steve watched as he did his tricks, he didn’t know much about what he was watching, but what he did know was just the fact that Billy was still upright and on his feet was impressive in its own right. Max had to have learned it somewhere.

He was wearing a white tank and short, very short, green shorts that definitely looked to be just a size too small.

Steve was staring, he was definitely staring.

But surprisingly enough it hadn’t been the tight little shorts that hugged his ass, or the exposed muscles of his arms glistening with just the slightest bit of sweat that caught his eye for the most part. Instead of his eyes traveling down, they traveled up. All the way to that hair that had to have grown at least two inches in the past couple of months that blew out of his face as he salted from one side of the bowl to the other side.

Steve would have sworn he was watching an advertisement of some kind because he looked like a fucking model. If only Jonathan had been around to snap a picture, because Steve would love to have that moment saved and pinned to his wall like a teenage girl cutting pictures out of a magazine.

Billy jumped out after just a minute, but to Steve it felt like forever, and at the same time, not nearly long enough.

But the breeze was still there, gently blowing his hair back and out of his face, exposing his neck full on to the crowd and Steve’s brain short circuited just a little bit at the sight.

And he completely powered off when he watched Billy from the other side of the bowl as he waterfalled some water out of a bottle into his mouth, his head tilted back and missing a little bit so he had drops dripping down his chin and onto his chest and maybe it was a little weird but Steve found that hot as hell.

“Earth to Steve.”

He wasn’t even pulled away by the sound of his voice, but by the snapping fingers that blocked his view. His really nice view. He jerked his head to the right where Dustin was staring at him with that plain look of disgust that had practically been his signature look.

“Please tell me you weren’t looking where I think you were looking.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Dustin’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Steve you’re blushing!” he said with a pointed finger.

“Shhhhh!!!” Steve pushed Dustin’s hand away and tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How did it go between Max and Lucas?”

“She stomped on his foot and told him to come back with a better apology, so… progress?”

Steve laughed, kind of upset he had to miss that.

“Now back to Billy Hargrove. Why?!”

Steve put his head in his hands and started to regret once again divulging that information about liking dudes to this kid who just never shut up about it once he found out.

“I’m not talking about this with you here!”

“So there is something to talk about.” Steve didn’t respond, chose not to entertain him any further. “Looks like your eye candy is coming over. I’m going to make myself scarce.”

Dustin wasn’t lying. Billy was already walking over and Dustin was already walking away so Steve was left there trying to dry off his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans.

“You the taxi driver again?” Billy asked.

“No, that would imply I’m getting paid to do this.”

Billy laughed and it was just so odd seeing him like that. So free with his guard down, allowing him to smile, real and genuine and not something that was trying to be menacing.

“Did Sinclair apologize?”

“Yes, but apparently not to Max’s standards.”

Billy looked over his shoulder to see Max about twenty feet away, just kicking her board into the fence.

“Damn she looks fucking pissed.” Billy said, and Steve could only agree with that assessment. “I better get her out of here before she snaps it in half. Will I see you around?”

Steve just nodded, unable to think of something to say. Just watching as Billy turned himself around and his eyes caught sight once again of that hair just perfectly flowing in the breeze like the air stream was coordinated just to make him look like that. And he couldn’t stop himself from letting the words come out of his mouth.

“Hey Billy, uh,” Steve said, and Billy stopped to look back at him, and the turn itself, it was all just so cinematic. “you looked great out there.”

And Steve wasn’t talking about skateboarding.

And with the way Billy smiled back at him with a blush that matched his own, maybe Billy picked up on that too.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #steve harrington #mandi writes tresh #ficlet #harringrove april #harringroveapril #this one is kinda dumb but I couldn’t think of anything else 😅

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doverstar · 2 years ago

Note

I also don't think Chrissy hates her life. Although I think she might want to run away from home, depending on how bad the situation with her mother got. I've read about narcissistic mothers and in some cases only zero contact brings victims peace. But of course we don't know if that's the case for Chrissy, the show doesn't make it clear what her mother's problem is and Chrissy definitely wouldn't run away and leave it all behind as a teenager. In adulthood, maybe, but it's just my thoughts.

I love reading your thoughts, anon! She might want to run away from home, if her mom was narcissistic. I've researched narcissism too (my somewhat-volatile sister-in-law prompted the curiosity) and I totally agree. If Laura Cunningham is narcissistic, confirmed, Chrissy might definitely resort to running away. I don't know that she'd specifically go straight to Eddie's place to get some peace, but maybe she would? Especially if they do wind up friends and she knows it's the last place her parents would think to look for her. I mean, we have to remember that Vecna uses those visions he gives people really loosely. We have little to no confirmation that Billy was that deeply aware of how Max thought of him when he was alive. But Vecna could see inside her head and knew her darkest thoughts, and used Billy as a mouthpiece to throw them in her face. Same thing with Lucas in her attic vision. Lucas totally does not think they'd be better off if Max died; Max thinks they would be, in her worst moments. Vecna just used a fake Lucas against her. And remember, Max's own mother was used in a vision, and we have no idea if what Vision Mrs. Mayfield said to Max was ever something the real Mrs. Mayfield said to her kid. (Probably definitely not; we've seen Max and her mom have an amiable relationship.) In the Vecna visions that use Chrissy's mom against her, we don't know how much of that is pulling from real interactions Chrissy has had with Laura, or if it's just Vecna putting Chrissy's own insecurities into her mom's mouth and turn of phrase. I'm not saying Laura Cunningham isn't emotionally abusive. The email Grace Van Dien showed us specifically stated that the character's mother is emotionally abusive, so that's canon. But we don't know to what extent. It could be that Laura is just too controlling and careless with her words, and her daughter takes those careless words and blows them up even bigger with her own body-image insecurities. Maybe Laura did loosen the back of a dress for Chrissy, because it was the wrong size or Chrissy was genuinely worried about it, but Laura said something careless about it and Chrissy immediately thought "oh she thinks I'm fat". It's possible for a parent to be emotionally abusive and not understand that that's what she's doing and that it's not okay. Or Laura could actually be that nasty, she could actually be as horrible as the Vecna Visions portray her (sans zombie looks, obviously). I just think all those fics talking about how blatantly mean Laura is to her own daughter might be overselling it. Realistically, I don't think she's that openly awful to her kid. I think it's more subconscious, more subtle, and that the woman probably doesn't even think she's in the wrong. (If someone told her she was, she probably wouldn't change her behavior. She's always right in her own mind. That's my take.) All we got of Chrissy's mom in real life, canonically, was the funeral. And I have no idea if any of what the mom said was genuine or fake or just her talking out of heartbreak, or narcissistically trying to be the center of attention at her daughter's funeral with her eulogy. Don't know. Can't say! But yeah, in adulthood I'm positive Chrissy would want to put some needed distance between herself and her mother. It's only natural.

#ask doverstar #answered #doverstar's thoughts #chrissy cunningham #laura cunningham #chrissy #stranger things #fic #stranger things 4 #st4 #asked #anon #anonymous

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freakie-deakie · 4 years ago

Text

Lucas // How To: Kill an Idea

i have been really struggling with feeling numb lately and i super projected that onto this character. i really do apologize if it doesn’t make for the most interesting read. i may or may not end up rewriting this when i’m feeling better.

Warnings: emotional numbness and detachment

Masterlist

THIS IS PART 2!!! Read part one here: How To: Hurt My Feelings

Lucas x Reader (angst // 7.3k words); ft. stepbrother!Johnny

The way the lights reflected off the water brought only distant memories of the Han flowing through the city of Seoul and mirroring the life around it. The bustle of the city, the calm of the river banks. The things that you neighbored so long ago.

You could become so lost in the remnants of the past - that you would forget to lose yourself in the readiness of the moment.

You owed the Garonne. After tirelessly looking over you for months on end, you owed her your presence at the very least. How dare you look at her in all of her beauty and only think of another.

She smiled at you nonetheless. The Garonne sat with you one last night and told you how much she would miss you - how much all of Bordeaux would miss you. She told you that the stone buildings, the ones in the alleyway that you cut through every night as you return to your dorm, didn't know what they were going to do without you. She told you that the little birds that had nested outside of your window had practiced a sadder song to sing after you left. She swore that the lights in the city shone brighter than they ever had before when you landed and that they would fade upon your departure.

She made you promise that you would come back to see all of them: the buildings, the birds, and the lights. On your own accord, you promised you would come back to see her.

The Garonne waved you off that night, sending you to bed and wishing you a restful slumber and a safe flight in the morning.

Tired and stiff, you limp out of the terminal with your laptop clutched to your chest and a yawn escaping your lips. You mindlessly followed the crowd of other travelers to baggage claim and patiently waited for your suitcase to be sorted onto the conveyor belt.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle," a familiar voice reached your ears, "I believe a poor boy has been waiting far too long to see you here."

You spun on your heel, a bright smile suddenly overtaking your features. "Lucas," you call quietly as you envelop him in a tight hug. You had barely moved for sixteen hours straight, but once in his arms, every desire for motion ceased. It seemed that he agreed, as he latched onto you and refused to let go.

"I missed you," he admitted before placing a kiss on the top of your head and moving to grab your bag off the belt.

"I missed you more," you answered softly.

He took your hand and kissed it before leading you through the airport and down to the parking garage where your brother was waiting, leaned up against his car, and dusting the cigarette ashes off of his sleeve.

"Hey there, Miss France," he says as he moves to envelop you in a hug of his own. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine," you answer simply. "Long, but fine."

"Well, you have an hour-long car trip to give us the highlights of France, if you're not too tired. We could stop by a late-night diner too if you're hungry."

You nodded along as you climbed into the car, enjoying the banter after your long trip. But as you rode in the passenger seat home (funny, you thought, that you still called it home), you took in things about the city that you never really appreciated.

The locals that ignored the do-not-cross signs, the billboards that were so shrouded in smog that you could barely read them, the stray cats that freely wandered the city like it was their own personal playground. All the things that you used to neighbor.

And when you got to the bridge that you'd longed to see since you left, the Han welcomed you home with as much love for you as it had six months ago. You made it a point to tell him about the Garonne sometime. You think he would enjoy hearing about her.

"The pastries," you say simply. "It was France; of course the pastries were the best."

Johnny dropped you back at your apartment and your boyfriend opted to stay the night, helping you settle back into the space that you could once again call your own.

Another tenant had contracted your apartment for the time you were away - there were a few more cuts and bruises than you remember leaving, but it was nothing you couldn't patch up. The bed wasn't where you had it, the shower knobs had been replaced, and an empty curtain rod rest stretched along your window seal.

"The stuff you left with us, it's still back at the frat," he chuckles awkwardly.

"That's okay." You offer him a small smile and plop down on one of the only four pieces of stand-alone furniture left in the space, the old black sofa in the same spot it's always been. "At least they didn't take my couch."

"Y/N, darling, I don't know if I would lay on that if I were you."

His words took a moment to register, but when they did your eyes shot open and you were out of your seat comically fast. "Oh God, ew..."

He laughed again and pressed a small kiss to your temple. "Let's take a shower and then we'll figure things out, okay? And you know, you don't have to sleep here tonight. There are no sheets on the bed or anything, so you can-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss and lead him to the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to take away all of your travel pains.

"Not really," you answered honestly, rolling your head to the side to look at your boyfriend. You'd been looking at his ceiling for a while, head resting on his thigh while he played with your hair. It felt nice, you thought, to get a chance to live in your memories - specifically the memories you had left with him here in his room, the ones that always waited for you while you were away. "All of my days in France were spent doing something or another. By myself, with the people that I met. So no, it never really got mundane. I didn't think that kind of life existed for anyone over the age of nine." You let out a small but heavy breath. "I guess I had to experience it for myself to understand."

Lucas doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he focuses on gently detangling a knot that his fingers had caught on. Your hair was longer now than it was.

"I'm happy for you," he reassures you. He doesn't quite know what he's reassuring, but he reassures you nonetheless.

"Lucas?" you ask softly.

"Hmm?" he responds, his gruff voice sounding tired.

"What would you have done if I didn't come back?" His finger stop working in your mess of locks and all of his attention is focused on dissecting what you just asked him.

"I don't know what answer you want me to give you," he says smally, glancing down at you before retraining his gaze on the ceiling, its texture nearly lost in the dark.

"There isn't a certain answer I want. I'm just curious."

"I don't understand the question," he almost interrupts, suddenly a bit tenser than he was only moments ago.

"I don't mean anything by it, Lucas. It's not a loaded question." Your soft voice is enough to lul his hand back to its comforting motions. "Would you have gone after me or would you have let me go?"

"I would have gone after you without a second thought. Definitely, I would have."

"I thought about staying you know."

There's a pause, a small silence of thought on both ends.

"Why didn't you," he asks with genuine curiosity.

"It wasn't home. You weren't there."

A wolf whistle follows you into the kitchen the next morning and you feel the need to suppress your groan.

"If I knew you were staying the night, I would have held a cup against the door."

"Oh, gross, Jaehyun," you sneer, turning to jab your elbow into the older boy's side.

"What? Not everyone gets to tour France." You can't help but dramatically roll your eyes and threaten him with a punch.

"Do you want a cup of coffee? I was about to put on a pot."

"Sure," he smiles gratefully. "And you can tell me about Bordeaux while we wait."

"Oh, it was beautiful," you think back as you prepare the grounds. "As the sun was setting, the sky would turn golden. If there were any clouds that evening, they would turn all different shades of pink. The lights over the water - words wouldn't do it justice."

Jaehyun chuckles before yawning out, "Well, that's a first."

"Jung Jaehyun, if you are trying to say that I talk too much-"

"That's not what I'm saying," he defends. "I mean you always have a way with words. It's your thing, ya' know. Words."

You hum, turning back to your task. "I guess I hadn't thought about it that way - at least not for a while."

The door to the kitchen swings open and another boy ungracefully stumbles into the kitchen. Haechan is clad in a plain T-shirt and dark shorts (if you could call them that). His hair is no longer silver; it's now a dusty brown, curling up into the picture of a sandstorm blowing about his head. He looked healthier, or maybe just more mature since you last saw him. He'd filled out a bit, and grown into those long limbs of his.

"Man, what's will all the commotion in here? It's Saturday and- Y/N?" The boy immediately perks up upon seeing you. "Oh my gosh, Y/N! You're back!" He hugs you and sits down at the island beside his older friend, suddenly as energetic as a child on Christmas morning. "Great, because I made a list of pranks we're gonna pull together. Jaehyun, since you're here, I guess you can help us too. Okay, first of all, we're gonna shove a bag of chocolate powder mix down the shower drain. I'd like to make sure that one gets Mark because he blamed me for breaking Johnny's lamp."

There were things you would have to readjust to in Korea. Things that you didn't think would catch you off guard, yet still managed to turn you around every now and again. The wet bath was one of them; you were going to miss your tub. You also suddenly found bowing a bit more strange than you originally had, as well as keeping personal space when you greeted someone altogether. Most prominently, the language barrier that you weren't so sure you'd ever really overcome in your first life in Korea.

Words were suddenly weird to you again. Ideas that could manifest themselves in one language but not another. At times, there were no proper parallels, nor were there ways in which to express everything going on inside your head.

Though you tried your hardest, what little French you learned simply wouldn't translate properly to English, or the English wouldn't translate to Korean, or the Korean to French, or the French to Korean, or the Korean to the English. The words just never came out the way you wanted them to, and in a way, it was like a piece of you fell away from the rest, lost somewhere between all of your different lives.

Lucas noticed how much quieter you seemed since you'd returned.

You made it a point to generally avoid contact with everyone while you were away. You occasionally checked in with them to let them know that you were alive, but other than that had kept your space. You became more dedicated to learning about yourself and how to care for your well-being. You began making decisions of your own, from what you would eat every night and how early you would wake up every morning to what debacles were worth your time and energy. You decided that most of them weren't. You decided that pondering your life was taking years off of it, and that you didn't like to eat snails. You decided that you weren't so bad after all, and for that matter, no one else was either. You decided to live.

"Hey, can I see something on your Instagram real quick?" you asked softly, setting your bowl of fancy ramen on the coffee table in front of you. "I think one of my friends just had a baby and I wanted to see if she's posted any pictures yet."

Without giving it much thought, Lucas hands you his phone and turns back to his meal. "What happened to your Instagram?" he questioned.

"Deleted it," you quip, pulling up your friend's account. He hears you coo before you shove the device back into his hands, urging him to look at the baby. He thought the child, redfaced and wet, looked like an alien, though he'd never tell you that.

"Why'd you delete it?" he pursues.

You simply shrug and cover more of your legs with the blanket that rested on the both of you. "Didn't need it." He gives you an unsatisfied groan, but you can't think of a better answer. It was simple - while you took plenty of photos to document your life, you no longer found it necessary to post them.

"Okay," he tries, "what about your Kakao Story?"

"Deleted."

"So you no longer use Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Skype, Instagram, or Kakao Story? What if someone needs to contact you?"

"I still have Kakao and Discord."

"Okay, what about my posts? Or your other friends'?"

"If they have something to tell me, they will," you sip your hot tea and lean into his side.

"It’s like she doesn't want to talk to me. She doesn't want to talk to anyone," groans Lucas as he sprawls out on Mark's bed. "She doesn't talk nearly as much as she used to."

Mark's hand didn't stop relaying notes to his journal as he talked with Lucas, translating as many of his lyrical ideas onto paper as he could keep up with.

"She's not the same person she used to be, Lucas."

Lucas had trouble making sense of it, why Mark sounded so sure about that. It almost hurt his pride that one of his roommates was telling him something about you, his girlfriend.

"Who is?" Lucas rubs his eyes. "We've all grown up since then."

Mark's hand halts. "Since then?"

"Since-" he sighs. "Ya' know, since... Since we..."

"Don't hurt yourself," Mark chuckles. "Maybe," he offers, "this chapter of your life is written in a different style. Did you even notice? That your life hasn't been going the same since she got back?"

"Of course it's not the same," the elder defends. "It's infinitely better."

"Spare me. Look, I'm just saying, the less she talks, the more dialog you're putting in your own book. And I think it's better this way. I mean, I can't tell you how to write your life, but I can honestly say I think you're doing better now than you were before. You started using your words instead of acting on impulse. That's not easy, man. Words are hard."

Words: your staple, your foundation, your life. They were your nothing anymore.

And Lucas didn't know how to understand.

He tried not to take it personally, but soon you fell into almost complete silence both with him and his friends. When you joined them for a Smash Bros competition, you didn't exclaim your victories nor mourn your defeats. When you dressed, you didn't ask for his opinions on the color of your lipstick nor the type of heel you should wear. When you laid in bed with him and watched his fan turn above your heads, you refused to humor his desire to hear your voice. And he took the fault upon himself.

He felt guilty asking anything of you anymore because you never opened your mouth to ask for favors in return.

"Y/N, will you come cuddle with me?" he calls with as much endearment as he can shove into his tone.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

You hadn't watched the news in months, and he knew that. You, ever the stickler for meaningful conversation, had devoted large portions of your time to staying up to date before. As of late, however, you preferred "to watch the world crash and burn around you from a first-person point-of-view rather than a third-person point-of-view."

He hoped that sitting you down to watch the news for a while would spark a fire in your opinionated soul. So imagine his reaction when you crawled into his arms and fell asleep, paying absolutely no mind to the colors or words on the screen.

His next plan was to plant your favorite novel in the hands of your favorite philosopher.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

He shoved the book into Doyoung's hands with a stern "fix her." Needless to say, Doyoung had the book read within a couple of days and Lucas invited you over as soon as his friend flipped through the pages for the final time.

"A piece of modern art," he suggests. "A sorrow lost to the sands of time and a meaning forgotten by society."

Lucas watches in amazement as you sit and nod along to everything that Doyoung says. You didn't interject your ideas even once. You just listened.

He was running out of ideas. So his last plot was his last hope that there may be a bit of yourself left inside of you. He would take you on a date - the best date you've ever been on - and thrust so much happiness and gratefulness onto you that you wouldn't be able to contain it so silently. He knew it was a dirty trick, but how else was he to make sure that you were okay if you would no longer tell him anything about yourself.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

Really, he should have asked you out first, before he came barging into your apartment (tidier than he'd ever seen it before and reeking of cleaner) with a bundle of flowers and demanding your attention for the evening.

Surprise.

He was about to push open the door to your bedroom when he heard a soft sniffle from inside. His eyes widened and his shoulders fell. His heart broke when he heard a small sob fall from your lips.

He peeked inside. It was dark, mind the laptop that sat on your desk and illuminating your shaking form. You laid your head on one arm and used your other hand to rake through your stringy hair. Your glasses had been tossed to the shadowy void and your cheeks were wet and sticky.

The header of your philosophy paper stared you down as you unraveled before it. The rest of the blank page was absolutely daunting. Your acceptance of the world around you had drained away your ability to have a coherent cognitive thought about it, forget about writing one.

To some extent, you missed the days when you were confident in your ability to build empires out of words. Now, you couldn't even build a ten-page paper, especially not by 11:59 pm that night.

To a greater extreme, you couldn't understand why you would want to return to your opinionated ways or your charismatic skills that abused fact until it bent to your will. What purpose did fact or, more importantly, idea have anymore, other than to aid your ability to charm others to abide by your purpose?

It felt wrong to write a definitive philosophical thesis, especially when you couldn't bring yourself to definitively believe in anything particular.

"Y/N," you jumped at the sound of your own name and quickly wiped your cheeks with the back of your sleeves, sitting up straighter and making yourself more presentable before you turned around to face him. Lucas saw it all. He watched you put your mask back on right before his eyes, and he realized that you were hurting in ways that he couldn't see until now.

"Lucas," you cursed your shaky voice. "What's up? Why are you here?"

He takes a few quiet steps until he's standing before you and kneels to look into your eyes. There are things that he wants to say, 'you're scaring me' being the most prominent, but he knows he should choose his words more carefully.

"I want to know what's going on. I want to help." He slips his hands into your own and rests them on your knees.

"I just don't think you can," you answer simply.

"Can you tell me what's the matter?"

You shake your head and the tears come rushing back to your eyes. "I don't know what's the matter." It's honest. You don't know why your head can't wrap around your assignments, or your conversations, or your own thoughts as of late.

All that time spent with yourself taught you how to understand yourself and your own needs. You feel that you have exchanged your understanding of the world around you for a simpler version of life. Did that make you selfish? You didn't know.

All Lucas could do was watch you as you fell back into your frustrations. It didn't take long before your brows were knitted back together, your nose was running, and your eyes had glazed over as you retreated back inside of yourself.

"Y/N," he softly called. Your eyes only met his for a second before they were cast somewhere else and your attention ran away from you once again.

"I think," you started, unsure of every word that slipped past your lips. "I think you should go."

You didn't know how to explain to him that you were afraid of what he might think of you at that moment, or that you didn't want to hurt his feelings any more than you guessed you already had.

"I don't want to go. I'm tired of leaving you alone." He stood, gently pulling you to stand with him, and led you to the edge of your bed with a delicate touch. "You don't have to sleep. You don't have to talk. Just lay here with me for a little while and let me be close to you."

"You know," Lucas started as he tossed the noodles in the pan. He'd tucked you into the couch earlier that evening and told you to forget the paper you'd been stressing over. You happily complied. "I don't know how to say this any better." You listened keenly as you pulled a throw pillow into your lap and wrapped yourself around it. "I know that this is probably the last thing you want to talk about, but I did something very wrong to you. I'm still sorry, and I hope you know that. But..." He cast you a quick glance over his shoulder before reaching for the seasoning in your pantry. "I don't think I ever gave you the chance to yell at me. Or like, to be mad at me - ya' know?"

You thought for a moment, front teeth chewing on your thumbnail before you shook your head softly and answered, "I don't want to yell at you. I don't want to be mad at you."

You heard a repressed sound of discouragement before looking to see him dishing your dinner plates. "I wish you would. I wish you would yell at me and tell me what I did was wrong. I wish you would be angry with me for a little while. I wish you would just tell me something about how you feel about it."

He handed you your plate and watched as you ran back inside of your own head. He watched your eyes glaze over as you replayed his words, and yet you made sense of almost none of them. You didn't understand what he was asking of you.

You toyed with your food as you tried to process his request. You didn't even notice when he took his seat beside you, nor did you notice the burning gaze he watched you with.

"Y/N," he called, shaking you out of your trance. "I want you to yell at me." You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights - big black eyes staring down a deadly light. "How did you feel when it happened? Shout something horrific at me about what was going through your head at the time."

You took a small bite and swallowed, training your eyes on the coffee table before you. "I don't remember."

You looked so small, so helpless, and so distant. You were there, right next to him, and yet you were so far away. He was having trouble finding you.

"Yell. Break something. For fuck's sake, please."

The more pressure he applied, the further you seemed to slip away. Before he knew it, you were gone.

"That's not her anymore." He found himself on Mark's bed once again, tucked into the younger boy's covers and pouring out his heart. "She's not all there. She just looks so empty now."

"Dude, I don't know why you come to me for this sort of thing. It's not like I'm just great with girls," the younger quips from his desk chair. "And Johnny would know more about her than I would-"

"No. He absolutely cannot know that I broke his sister."

Mark hummed in thought for a moment before he laid his pen down in his textbook and turned his full body to his friend. "Lucas, be honest with me about something." Lucas nodded. "Did you see anyone else while she was in France?"

Lucas shook his head as he took in his friend's words carefully. He had no right to be mad at the accusation, so he kept his temper in check until a particularly vile thought trotted across his mind. He sat up immediately. "Oh God, do you think that she did? Do you think she considered it a break and she slept with someone else?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying- hey- Lucas, stop." Lucas was already to his feet and out the door before he could finish. "So not my fault," he grumbled to himself.

Finally, it all made sense to him. You couldn't be mad at him if you were also guilty. You couldn't yell at him for committing a sin you'd also committed. He was going to redress the scale. He was going to make you the word again. He was going to be the action.

The solid thuds against your wooden door made you jump up from your floor. Adrenaline spread through your fingertips and you took a step back towards your bedroom.

"We need to talk."

Lucas sounded angry. You pushed and pulled with your memory, but found no trace of experiencing this feeling before: fear of him. You moved against your gut to let him in. You barely opened the door before he pushed his way inside, rattling off accusation after accusation.

"Did you think we were on a break? Because we weren't on a break."

You just listened.

"Did you just forget about me while you were there? Did you just ignore the fact that I was waiting for you? I was stuck here, waiting for you every day while you were in France."

You didn't speak.

"So you just got to do whatever you wanted while I had to sulk here? You just couldn't control yourself, huh? Do you know how hard it was to keep control of myself while you were gone?"

'It was hard?' you thought.

"How about we take another break then? How about this time, I get to sleep with whoever I want? Well? Aren't you even going to open your mouth to defend yourself?"

You didn't.

"Am I wrong?" He prompted. "I didn't think so. Now we're on a break. Now you can fuck around with whoever you want."

Shocked couldn't begin to describe the state he left you in. You stood there, clambering for answers as to what could have sent him on a warpath to your apartment in the first place. His seemingly unprompted fit of jealous rage couldn't really have been sparked without a cause, you figured.

Maybe he'd seen pictures of you with your male friends in France. Maybe a rumor had been spread about you. Maybe he was just tired of you and feeding himself a rotten narrative as an excuse to break up with you.

You didn't want to know. You opted to rather accept his decision, and all of your own emotions that came flooding back with it.

"Hey man, have you talked to Y/N lately? She took one of my classes last year, and I wanted to see if I could get her notes before semester tests." Haechan asks his elder who lay sprawled on the couch.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.'

"What?" Haechan asked, looking up from his phone. "What do you mean you haven't talked to her?"

Lucas lazily yawned and reached for his soda can beside him. "It's not like she's my girlfriend or something. I'm not her keeper."

"Shit, Lucas, you didn't," Mark groaned, rubbing his temple.

"No, you were right. She was sleeping with other guys while she was in France. She didn't even try to deny it."

"Hang on, I never said that. You conjured that one up all on your own, buddy."

Haechan frowned as his frat members debated. He was focused on a much bigger issue at large.

"When did you break up with her?" he asks cautiously.

"Hey, we're just on a break. Don't go getting any ideas-"

"Jesus fuck, can your ego get any bigger?" Lucas crossed his arms and refocused his attention on the television, jaw clenched tightly. "You're so annoying," Haechan mumbled under his breath, already moving towards the door and shooting your brother a message telling him to meet in front of your apartment.

"Damn, you got called annoying by Haechan. How does that feel?"

"Can it, Lee."

You could feel it all, the swarm of emotions swirling and twirling around inside your chest, and yet you couldn't begin to name any of them. All you knew was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.

You laid in your bed and watched your ceiling fondly. You liked how it didn't move. You didn't struggle to keep up with it. And it was dependable; it would always be there.

You didn't move when the knock at your front door finally registered in your ears; you were tired of playing doorman in your own residence.

You were just tired actually.

"Y/N," Johnny called, lightly pushing open the door to your bedroom. A strong sense of deja vu winded you. You knew this scene, you'd lived it before. "It's me and Haechan. I'm sorry we didn't call first." You didn't know how they managed to get inside, nor did you care. You just wanted to sleep.

Johnny took a seat next to you on the side of your bed. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes in an attempt to capture your attention. That's when the smell hit you. The heavy stench of cigarettes washed over all of your senses causing you to retract from his touch. He looked shaken at first, scared that he might have hurt you.

"You didn’t smoke before," you recalled. It was almost a feat in and of itself to remember the bitter past, but the small victory was stifled by the thick, wet air of the bitter present.

His eyes softened before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack he'd bought just a few days before. "I started a few months ago while you were away. I knew you wouldn't be happy about it."

"I don't care," you answered promptly before slowly pulling yourself to sit up against your headboard.

Haechan watched from the doorway. He wondered if he'd ever seen someone in this state before, or if he ever would again. He looked at you and almost failed to see the human being in front of him. He watched you move like a frightened animal, stiff and weary. He watched your untrained gaze flicker between your brother and your brother's outstretched hand.

This couldn't have just been the work of Lucas, he concluded. There were more deeply rooted implications here. There was an unresolved issue before your idiot boyfriend played to his own role.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know," you answered honestly.

Johnny looked to Haechan for support, but the younger could offer only his presence in this situation.

"That's okay," your brother soothed. "Haechan," he turned to your mutual friend, "can you call Ten and Yuta and see if they've, uh, noticed anything weird lately about..." He gestured to you. Haechan excused himself to place the calls. "Food? Food always helps, right?" he tried with a dry chuckle. You paid absolutely no mind to him.

"I can't take this," Ten muttered to himself, excusing himself from your bedroom. Five boys had soon found themselves huddled in your doorway, watching your every move intently as you resisted every attempt your brother made to move you.

You felt like a lab rat, being looked at from all angles as Johnny poked and prodded to see what would make you tick. It felt humiliating.

"Let's just go for a drive," he tried again, gently pulling your arms away from your chest and trying to guide you out of bed.

"No," you answered again, pulling yourself away from him and settling further back into your bed.

"Maybe we should just let her be for tonight," Jaehyun suggested, moving to stand beside your brother whose head was fallen in defeat.

"I can't just leave her like this, Jae. I still don't understand what's going on."

"Just give her some space," Jaehyun tried again. "This clearly isn't very effective."

Johnny sighed but ended up in compliance as everyone except for Jungwoo moved to your living room. They quietly deliberated as Jungwoo read allowed one of your favorite novels from the end of your bed, hoping against all hope that it would in some way bring you back from the void in which your mind seemed to currently reside.

"Honestly, we had planned to just come and cheer her up," Haechan had said. "We didn't know we'd find her like this. But I can't say it really surprised me, she's been off for months now."

"I thought something seemed weird. She hasn't said much to me in a while."

"Me either."

"Yeah, same."

Everyone generally agreed with Ten's statement.

"Do you guys think something happened in France?" Jaehyun suggests.

"Or maybe things haven't been going so well between her and Lucas for a while?" Yuta offers.

"Everything just feels like it's spinning," you said, cutting off Jungwoo's reading of Mary Shelley's finest work. He was just happy to have heard you say anything at all. "Everything is going so fast around me. I just wanna take a nap, sleep for a while." As you relayed your simple disposition, you found yourself moving to lay on your side, plenty warm but unwilling to relinquish your comforter. "I don't feel like I belong here, so I'm going to sleep instead."

Jungwoo set the book to the side and laid himself down at the end of your bed. "I don't feel like I belong here sometimes either," he relates.

"But you do," you say, looking over his features and seeing every sharp and jagged curve for the first time.

"You do too," he promises.

Hours of hushed worries bled into the night, and you awoke alone in your apartment in the morning. You had no initial intention of getting out of bed. It was the hardcover copy of Frankenstein standing upright on your bedside table that stirred your aching joints into motion.

Then you remembered.

How could you ever even forget?

The Han River smiled when you arrived, taking a seat on his bank. He asked you why you'd been such an unfamiliar face as of late, to which you had no reply. He thanked you for coming to visit him nonetheless and told you about how much Seoul had missed you while you were away. He told you about the alley cats and how they missed the treats you would occasionally leave for them on your way to classes. He told you about how much the sky cried about you spending spring away. He told you that the city lights drowned out the stars while you were gone, but let them peak back into the city when you returned.

You had no beating heart to pour out into his water, so instead, you gave him your soul. The Han understood and sat with you until you bore no more faults on which to complain. He told you he missed you. You told him that you missed him too. You told him about the Garonne and how much you thought he would like her. Then he sent you off into the afternoon bustle of the city with a watchful eye.

You wondered the streets for a while. Not a penny in your pocket, and still you found so many little joys in all the cracks and crevices of Seoul. You pet the stray cats; they'd always been particularly fond of you. You walked around an antique shop making wild guesses about the past lives of every item in sight. You climbed a tree in the park without a damn to spare the onlookers. By sunset, your feet had taken you back to your campus and directly to the front door of your apartment.

"How about some tea?" you ask yourself as you push the door open, not half expecting to be ambushed by a group of concerned young men demanding to know where you were.

"Would you all like some tea too?"

It was still a struggle to hear your voice most of the time, but visible relief settled over those who'd seen you cowering from your brother in your bedroom only days prior. They all continued to check in on you frequently, as they still had difficulties coaxing you away from your apartment.

"Lucas," Johnny had finally caught him lurking in the kitchen around midnight. He was beginning to grow irritable with how troublesome he had become to locate.

Lucas froze, cup ramen clasped in one hand with chopsticks in the other. Busted like a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Look, I'm sorry about your sister," he started without really knowing where he was going. "I know that I kinda jumped the gun-"

"I don't want to fight with you again," the elder said. He had kept his calm since the situation had arisen. The last time you and your boyfriend had a falling out, all hell broke loose in their dorms. He had landed a good solid punch on the more-than-deserving idiot and held the belief that he probably deserved a few more. However, he'd rather not have everyone in a frenzy once more, turning against one another. "I just need you to tell me what was going on before you left."

Lucas's shoulders slump and he sets his late-night meal on the countertop. "I was just so frustrated. She always let me into her head before - but when she came back, she just stopped talking to me. She shut me out," he relayed. "I tried everything I could think of. I tried to make her really happy, I tried to make her really mad. She wouldn't talk to me."

"She won't talk to me either," Johnny said, resting a reassuring hand on Lucas's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he responds, taking some measure of the blame upon himself. He felt that maybe if he'd had more patience with you, he could have helped you to get better. Now you were detaching yourself from not only him but your other friends and family as well. "Do you think she would want to see me?"

Your brother shrugged but a small smirk played on his lips. "I dunno. Maybe you should go find out tomorrow."

Needless to say, Lucas felt displaced and burdened by heavy guilt as he stood in your doorway, looking down on your fragile body. The last time he came knocking on your door in the most awful hours of the morning, he begged and cried on his knees for you not to leave him. He felt himself resist the urge to fall to the ground and repeat his mantra of pleas.

You didn't ask him why he was there so early in the morning, nor did you ask him if he wanted to come in. Your stare made his skin feel cold. He cleared his throat to dispel some of the awkward tension that he felt clawing at his airways.

"Can I come in?" Without a word, you moved to the side. "Thank you. Were you asleep?"

"No," you say simply, trailing behind him as he steps into your kitchen.

He lets out a low chuckle as he glances around the room. It looked so surprisingly unhomely and clean. Not a single dish in the sink, nor a potted plant out of place. "I keep messing up pretty badly, don't I?"

He hated the empty way you looked at him. It was as if you didn't know him. It was as if you had just let a complete stranger into your apartment.

"I don't understand, and I'm really trying to. I know that you know that things have changed since you got back. I don't know what that means yet, but I do know that I still love you. And that I'm stupid. I know that too."

You hummed along, a thoughtful expression overtaking your blank features.

"And I know that I’m sorry. I let a stupid idea get into my head and I let it hurt my own feelings. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Please don't leave me."

You didn't offer an answer, instead opening your arms and inviting him back into your embrace. He placed a small kiss on your lips, something he felt like he hadn't done in ages, and wrapped himself around you in an effort to keep you by his side forever.

"Are you happy here in Seoul?" your boyfriend asked, picking at the grass in front of his crossed legs. He looked at you as you looked down at the water. "I mean, I know you don't want to go back to (country), and I have a feeling that you don't exactly want to go live with my family in China. But like, would you rather be in Bordeaux? Or would you rather stay here?"

"I don't know." He hummed and waited for you to elaborate, but you made no real effort to.

"I know that we're still young and we don't have to make any decisions about where we want to live yet," he cooed, looking up to watch the sun set behind the large city towers, "but would you stay here in Seoul with me for a little while?"

You nodded, reaching over to take his hand in your own before pulling him to lay in the grass with you.

"You know, you're not the same person that you were before you left. I've realized that," he said with a sad smile as he looked over at you and placed a small kiss on your chin, pulling a small giggle from your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I can't wait to get to know you again."

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

chapter 20

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

previous chapter

~^~

Jens opens the door either a moment too soon or a moment too late. Sander and Lucas are already standing outside, as he’d thought, and are deep in conversation. Jens stands frozen in the doorway and waits for them to notice him. In that time, he takes in Lucas’s frown and Sander’s comforting hand on his shoulder. Lucas had been speaking before Jens opened the door, then he cut himself off abruptly.

Now they’re both staring at him. Silent.

Jens takes in the tension laced through Lucas and the frustration obvious in his face and feels nerves bubble up in him. He thought he had come prepared today, but now he’s doubting himself. He swallows as Lucas meets his eyes, but miraculously manages not to look away. They’re sort of friends, now, right? They’ve come a long way since their first meeting, at least. He doesn’t have to be so anxious. One simple look from Lucas should not tear his stomach to shreds.

It’s a little nerve-wracking, however, when Lucas slips away from Sander’s hand and brushes past Jens without a word.

Jens twists his head to look after him for a moment, then turns back to Sander and tries not to appear too awkward or concerned. “Everything okay?” he carefully asks.

Sander is still looking after Lucas, seeming pained, and then he looks at Jens and blinks. “Yeah, of course,” he smiles. “Sorry, we’re a little late.”

Nothing about this is very convincing. Jens wouldn’t consider himself a people expert, and he’s especially not overly familiar with Sander, but even he can tell that his smile is a little forced and his body strung a little too tight. He doesn’t think they were fighting. It didn’t even really seem like they were arguing.

But there’s definitely a shared tension between them. Jens doesn’t understand why this makes him simultaneously curious and more anxious.

“You’re fine,” he says, stepping back and beckoning Sander in, shutting the door behind him.

They’re using the front room in Jens’s apartment as a studio space. He hadn’t thought much ahead before offering it up, but Sander had barely paid attention when he first showed up and gave Jens no reason to fret. He hadn’t really cared what Sander would think either way.

He may have taken a little extra care this morning. (Or in the last hour, after waking up late and proceeding to rush around like a mad man.) Robbe may have raised his brows at him in teasing surprise when he showed up, and it may have made Jens feel even more silly for being so nervous.

But no matter how friendly their texts seem to have gotten, Lucas is still very intimidating.

Jens has no idea how they’re supposed to interact in person, and it doesn’t help that Lucas already seems to be in a rather dull mood. He isn’t sure why he expects Sander to continue to try to do something about it. Instead the blond lingers back with him as Lucas greets Robbe, smiling now as Robbe offers him a bro-handshake. Jens lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding at the sight, feeling a smile of his own grow as Robbe immediately strikes up a friendly conversation with the other man.

It’s not that he’d been nervous about Robbe, but well, he imagines that it isn’t easy. He doesn’t know how Robbe does it.

Lucas is already shrugging his bag off his shoulder and pulling out his sketchbook and his camera. Jens feels anticipation bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey,” he greets, once they’re close enough, and to his delight, Lucas glances up and offers him something like a smile. “Everything good?”

Robbe nods as Lucas says, “Yep. Or, well, depends. What’s the plan?”

He looks to Jens for direction, and Jens forces himself not to stutter, instead simply turning to Robbe for help.

“Uh, well,” Robbe thinks, glancing between them all before finally settling on Sander. Jens hopes he’s the only one who notices how Robbe’s cheeks flush. “You don’t urgently need to work with Jens today, do you?”

Sander blinks at him, then quickly shakes his head.

“Okay, well I filmed a little bit of your shoot with Jens the other day, and I’ve been thinking I could edit it into like a promo to sort of announce things before we release the actual pics? But I was hoping I could maybe get your opinion on it first.”

“That’s a really cool idea,” Sander says, brightening. The smile on his face appears much more genuine than before. Jens supposes that’s what a passion can do. He hopes it’ll have the same effect on Lucas.

Robbe looks to Lucas and then to him, smiling as well. “That’s if you guys are happy enough to work this out yourselves? I’m sure Lucas knows what he’s doing, and I mean we’ll just be here if you want another opinion on anything.”

Jens raises his brows as Lucas glances at him.

Lucas offers Robbe a nod and a smile. “Sounds good.”

Jens notes that he doesn’t speak to or even glance at Sander as Robbe guides him to the small table in the corner while Jens and Lucas remain at the island. Jens hesitantly takes a seat, then gestures for Lucas to do the same, trying to remind himself to be both chill and professional. He’s usually able to manage it at meetings. Maybe it’s being in his home that makes it feel a little more personal.

“Hi,” he repeats, watching Lucas’s concentrated frown as he skims through his sketchbook.

Lucas looks up at him and seems, again, vaguely amused. “Hi.” He skims his gaze over Jens, tilting his head curiously. “Are you always this nervous?”

No, Jens thinks. Just with you.

“Sometimes,” he says.

Lucas huffs, smiling now as he looks back down. “Don’t be. I’m the one preparing to be criticised this time.”

“You were very intimidating last time we spoke.”

“Because I told you to watch it?” Lucas raises a brow at him.

Jens blanks, then remembers their text conversation from yesterday and flushes. “No, I mean, the last time we actually spoke. At the first meeting.”

“Ah.” Lucas nods. “In person. That usually makes me less intimidating.”

“Why?” Jens’s brow furrows.

Lucas raises his brows again and gestures at himself. Jens takes him in. His curls are as artfully styled as ever, falling over his forehead in messy waves, and below that his eyes are a stunning blue. He’s wearing another loose shirt, this time black with a light floral pattern. Jens can see the collar of a tee poking out underneath. Along with that, Lucas is wearing skin-tight jeans and shiny black boots along with his usual assortment of jewelry, rings adorning his fingers and silver bracelet glinting from his wrist. Jens wonders if any of them are gifts from Sander.

“I don’t get it,” Jens says. He means it. Lucas is beautiful. He looks like the true model here. It’s part of what intimidates Jens so much.

Lucas wiggles his fingers at him, showing off dark purple nails, then flexes a skinny arm. “Very intimidating, I imagine.”

Jens frowns. “You don’t need to be brawny to be intimidating. Honestly, I think I’m probably more intimidated by pretty people. Especially when they’re confident.”

Lucas stares at him for a minute, and Jens must imagine the flush on his cheeks, because then he snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, you basically just described yourself.”

Jens grins in surprise, but before he can say anything else, Lucas is spinning his sketchbook around and shoving it towards him, then digging back into his bag. Jens drags his gaze away and down to the paper in front of him. It’s littered in designs, different emblems and patterns interlocking across the double page. There are a few combinations of his initials, which he supposes also work well with a self-titled album. As much as Jens felt creative with words in the songwriting process, naming the songs and especially the album had been a frustratingly difficult task, so much so that he’d eventually just settled on JENS.

Robbe has been very skeptical, but Jens’s label seemed to think it was a good choice, and that was good enough for him. It wasn’t about the names or the titles, anyway.

Lucas seems to have also recognised this, and there are some heavy references to the actual music in some of the sketches. Lucas has sprinkled waves and rain and other forms of water throughout some of the designs, or focused on them entirely. Along with that are cages and chains, locks and keys, and beautiful wings.

Jens instantly falls in love with all of them, and then turns the page only to find more. He lets out a long breath. “How much time did this take you?”

He looks up in time to see Lucas shrug. He’s now staring down at an iPad. “Not that long. I might’ve stayed up a little longer than I should have, though.” He shrugs again, and now Jens believes the flush crawling up his neck has to be real. “The album gave me a lot of ideas.”

Jens nods. He hovers his fingers over some of the sketches, leaning down to admire them in closer detail.

Lucas makes a small sound of triumph, and then slides the iPad on top of the sketchbook. “I did a few out then on some rough clothing sketches, just to get an idea what they’d look like brought to life and put together. This doesn’t take that long, so if there’s any ideas you’d like me to group or something we could spend a while messing around with that. Or as long as you tell me, I can do it when I go home.”

“Everything is amazing.” Jens shakes his head, awed. He blows out another breath and laughs slightly as he looks up at Lucas. “I don’t know how you expect me to choose anything. None of these should be left out. Fuck, this one’s amazing.” He taps his finger on a sketch of drooped wings encased in a golden birdcage. He takes the iPad and lets Lucas draw the sketchbook back towards himself to examine, humming quietly in agreement.

He knew Lucas was talented. He’d gone after him for that exact reason. But seeing how quickly he’s managed to create all of this, how easily he’d brought the images in Jens’s words to life—he’s in awe. As well as that, he’s managed to implement the designs onto hoodies and t-shirts and sweatpants and hats and everything in between. Excitement floods through Jens at the prospect of getting to wear one himself, never mind seeing such items on anyone else. He smiles secretly to himself as he imagines Lucas donning a sweatshirt with his initials embroidered on the chest.

He doubts Lucas would ever sacrifice his beloved reputation to such an extent, or like Jens that much in the first place, but he’s allowed to dream.

“Yeah, I’m never going to be able to choose. I’m so sorry for making this more difficult but you’re just—this is just too good.” Jens shakes his head, still scrolling through the different images, and Lucas huffs.

“I didn’t expect you to be such a suck-up,” Lucas teases.

Jens looks up at him, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. Then he lets his expression turn earnest and shrugs. “I’m telling the truth, like I hope you did with me.” He’d been relieved, and pleased, when Lucas had given such a kind review of his album yesterday. It was almost hard to believe. He’d instantly gone and listened to the third and last songs again, the ones Lucas had said were his favourite, and had a smile on his face for the rest of the day.

Lucas’s smile slips now, and some of Jens’s nerves come back. Lucas clears his throat and snaps his sketchbook closed, setting it aside so he can pull his camera towards him. “We can ask Robbe for his opinion, later? It might help. Even if you’re just able to rule things out together.”

Jens suddenly remembers his best friend only a few feet away, and Lucas’s boyfriend with him, and quickly glances over his shoulder. He’s been doing well, every other day, at keeping an eye on them. He knows how easily Robbe could get hurt or upset, no matter how much he protests that he’s getting over his crush perfectly fine. Jens knows it’s far from the truth, both because he knows the full capacity of Robbe’s feelings and because it must be ten times harder to get over someone you see every day. He knows Robbe avoids contacting Sander now outside of work as much as he can. He knows it isn’t easy, and he’s been doing his best to provide a comforting buffer.

Now, though, he turns around just in time for Robbe to start giggling as Sander talks animatedly. Robbe is staring at his laptop screen instead of Sander, and his cheeks are flushed, but he’s smiling wide. Not upset, not yet, but quite possibly digging himself into a hole. Sander, at least, appears oblivious, happy and excited as he makes a dozen hand gestures and leans farther across the table to get a better look.

“Yeah, we’ll do that when they’re done,” he agrees, shooting a smile back at Lucas.

Lucas is watching Robbe and Sander, too, the furrow back between his brows. Jens remembers the sour mood that he’d arrived in, the tension between him and Sander, and resists asking if everything is okay. He’s told Robbe enough times, when he was mourning over Sander, that it’s none of their business. He shouldn’t be the one to butt in now.

He gently hands Lucas’s iPad back to him instead, then raises his brows. “Meanwhile, do you want a snack? Or something to drink?”

Lucas smiles at him. “Oh, he remembers to be a good host.”

Jens pulls a face at him. His heart flutters when Lucas actually laughs in response. “Five seconds and I retract my offer,” he threatens.

“Water would be nice, maybe,” Lucas acquiesces instantly. “And if you have any chocolate, I won’t say no.”

“Huh, sweet tooth. Noted.” Jens winks at him, pushing to his feet and glancing back at the other two co-workers. “Sander, can I get you anything?”

Sander quickly looks at him and shakes his head, and his eyes slide on over to Lucas and he tries for a smile. Lucas either truly misses it or pretends not to notice.

Jens bites down his questions once more. “Robbe?” He waits for his friend to shake his head and then goes to fetch water and chocolate for Lucas. A few minutes later, when Lucas has eaten half of the biscuits on the plate Jens had left out and is taking a sip of his water, Jens decides on a safer line of interrogation. “So, how many times did you actually end up listening to the album?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Those two times. And then the first few songs again because Sander joined me and he’d missed those.” Lucas pauses, blinking at Jens with wide eyes. “I hope that’s okay.”

Jens waves him off. “Yeah, obviously. I don’t expect you to keep anything from Sander, especially when you share a room.” He raises a brow. Lucas doesn’t react. “Besides, you both signed the contracts. Sander’s in our trust, too.”

“Okay,” Lucas nods, smiling slightly again. Jens’s chest warms. “That’s good, then.”

Jens smiles back at him, and they sit in silence for a moment, considering each other. Jens realises Lucas’s attention isn’t making him as anxious anymore. Their texting relationship seems to have actually carried over into real life, and he’s relieved.

Lucas takes another sip of his water and then grabs his camera again. “How do you feel about doing a practice shoot? I might even be able to mess around and edit some of the designs onto you then. Plus it’ll be a lot easier when the time comes if I’m already familiar with you and your angles and the lighting and everything.” Lucas waves a hand.

Jens bites down his smile and nods in acceptance. “Okay, sure. Just tell me where you want me.”

It turns out his nerves aren’t entirely gone. It’s different, when he’s sitting on a stool and Lucas is focusing entirely on how he looks. It’s different when there’s a camera pointed at him and Lucas is the one behind it. He doesn’t want to mess up. He doesn’t want to frustrate Lucas, and he doesn’t want to look like an idiot.

It turns out this makes the whole process more difficult.

“Are you always this tense?” Lucas asks, vaguely concerned, and Jens’s shoulders tense further. Lucas sighs. “Don’t act so much like you’re posing. Just, do whatever feels comfortable.”

Jens wriggles on the stool. He draws a leg up. Puts it back down again. He leans forward to rest his arms on his knees and almost falls off the stool, which is too high for that position to work. He leans back and crosses his ankles, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Lucas snaps a photo, then considers it with a frown. He examines Jens again. “Maybe spread your legs?” He suggests.

Jens instantly raises his brows and smirks slightly, just to see Lucas rolls his eyes and set an unimpressed hand on his hip. Jens relents and spreads his legs, planting his feet and letting his hands dangle between his knees.

Lucas takes another photo and stares at it for a moment. Then he says, “How about we go outside?”

Jens blinks at him. “Why?”

“Because if you’re just walking around, not posing, I might get something more natural. I can tell you’re not feeling this.”

Lucas isn’t exactly wrong. The only thing Jens is feeling right now is sick. He’s twitchy and his stomach keeps rolling and Lucas’s gaze is too intense. He can’t sit still. Maybe it will help if he doesn’t have to.

“You’re the expert,” he says. “I can go wherever you want me.”

Lucas shakes his head. “No. Wherever you want. Somewhere you’re a little more in your element.”

Jens thinks, then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Lucas grins, letting his camera settle around his neck. He moves back to the island and collects the coat he’d abandoned there, the same denim jacket with the fluffy collar he’d worn the first time they’d met. He slides his arms into the sleeves and turns to the other two men in the flat, clicking his fingers once to get their attention. “We’re going out to take some photos. Do you two wanna come with?”

Jens doesn’t know if he wants them to. The possibility of being alone with Lucas is terrifying and thrilling all at once. He decides this thought in itself is enough to make up his mind. He shoots a panicked, pleading look at Robbe, but Robbe is already looking at Lucas and nodding his head. He doesn’t seem to notice Sander’s frown.

“Yeah, sure,” Robbe agrees, and Jens lets out a breath of relief. He supposes his friend likely doesn’t want to be left here alone with Sander, either. “Where are we going?”

“Wherever Jens wants.” Lucas fiddles with his camera for a moment. “He needs to chill.”

Robbe raises his brows as Sander blinks. There’s a hint of a laugh in Robbe’s tone. “Jens needs to chill?”

“He’s always been chill with me,” Sander agrees, confused.

Lucas looks up to blink at them, then at Jens, amused. “Do I scare you that much?”

Jens flushes and pointedly ignores Robbe’s giggle. “No. I’m just, stressed. We’re releasing the first music video and announcing the album in two weeks and I’m very aware of all the things that could go wrong and how shitty I’ll probably feel.”

That shuts them up fairly quickly. Sander simply offers a sympathetic smile and Lucas’s expression softens as he seems to search for something to say. It’s Robbe, however, who raises to his feet and grabs Jens by the shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “You won’t. It’ll be amazing, and we’re going to spend the entire day celebrating. Right now, Lucas is right. We should go out and have fun.”

“You definitely need it,” Lucas agrees, tilting his head towards the door, brows raised.

“Come on.” Robbe slaps his shoulder. “Skate park? It’s been a long time.”

Jens sucks in a breath, then slowly lets it out as he nods. They spend a moment collecting coats, keys, and boards, and then Jens ushers them all out and locks the door behind them. Robbe leads the way outside and down the sidewalk, and Jens half hopes Lucas will instantly rope him into conversation and start giving orders. Instead Sander slips an arm over Lucas’s shoulders and speaks to him quietly, and after a moment Lucas is nodding and leaning into his side.

Jens looks away and catches Robbe’s gaze, then falls into step alongside his best friend, bumping his shoulder. “Okay?” he asks quietly.

Robbe gives him a tight smile and a nod and Jens ruffles his hair.

The skatepark is relatively empty, but the people who are there continuously sneak glances at the group, whispering and grinning between themselves. Jens sees a guy pointing his phone at them. This isn’t entirely unusual, but it doesn’t help him destress.

“Just ignore them,” Robbe reminds him. “But be aware I’m gonna post a few stories because people are starting to ask if you’ve died.”

Jens rolls his eyes, but he does his best to listen. He looks to Lucas first, who merely waves his hand in a ‘go ahead’ gesture. He realises soon that it does help. It’s been a while since he’s skated, but it still loosens him up like it used to, still gets his blood rushing and allows him a few moments of freedom. He flips off Robbe’s phone and winks at Lucas’s camera and doesn’t really allow himself to think about either, or the way Sander is watching over Lucas’s shoulder and occasionally directing him, both of them smiling and bickering now.

He finally rejoins them and plops himself down on top of the half pipe, where Lucas immediately comes to kick at his thigh. “Weird question, but can I have a go?”

Jens blinks up at him, noticing how he’s rocking on his heels with barely constrained energy, and raises his brows. “Skating?”

“Yeah?” Lucas raises his eyebrows back. “Is that a no?”

“Uh, no, go for it. I mean, if you can.”

Lucas huffs, carefully setting his camera and his jacket on the ground next to Jens before picking up his board. He plants it at the top of the ramp, a foot balancing it on the edge, and cocks an eyebrow at Jens again before he’s racing down the ramp with a wave.

Jens stares after him, astonished, as he navigates the park on Jens’s board with ease. He barely notices Robbe and Sander sitting down with him until Sander wolf-whistles and Lucas flips him off as he passes. Jens feels something thrum in his stomach as he watches Lucas and can’t quite figure out what it is.

When Lucas finally comes to a stop below them, flicking his hair off his forehead, Jens gives an exaggerated clap. Lucas simply grins up at him, eyes considering as he holds the board up for Jens to take, then requests, “Pass me my camera?”

Jens does so without question, and Lucas’s lips curl as he looks up at him and then snaps a photo. “I just have to capture the utter shock and awe on your face right now.”

Jens sets a hand on his thigh and stares down at him, unimpressed, but his brow furrows slightly as the camera goes off again.

Lucas takes it away from his face and examines the image he’d taken, pursing his lips slightly. “Not bad. Who knew you could actually be sort of photogenic.”

Jens pulls a face at him as he grins and draws himself up next to Sander, who immediately leans in to look at the photos he’s taken. Lucas doesn’t hesitate to lean towards him, this time, and then he’s laughing at whatever Sander says, turning towards him with a dazzling smile Jens hasn’t seen yet. Their faces are so close they could kiss.

Robbe seems to have the same thought and looks away, showing Jens his hurt expression for an instant before focusing steadily out at the skatepark, his pinched lips the only visible sign of jealousy.

Jens has to look away, too, and finds himself mimicking the expression. It’s only then that he recognises the heavy feeling in his own stomach as the same emotion. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. Jealousy has never been foreign to him.

He darts another glance at Lucas, in shock and slowly expanding terror, and notes how his heart flutters and then pinches as he throws his head back and laughs and Sander reaches out and fixes his hair for him.

Oh, fuck.

~^~

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe @alittleemo @boring-side-effect @franboos

next chapter

#wtfock #skam nl #sobbe #robbe x sander #van der stoffels #vds #fake making-it

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