#Oddly enough i think he could be a good dad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherriegyuu · 1 year

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Willow | 02

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 5.2k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

Seungcheol functioned like clockwork.

Every day he woke up at the exact same time, his alarm was obnoxiously loud — especially considering how much of a light sleeper he was —, showered, cocked the same breakfast, and left the apartment precisely at 7:45.

You don’t remember him being that punctual but your best guess was that grown-up Seungcheol took his life and responsibilities much more seriously than teenage him. And he probably had a lot on his plate too. He was set to take over the firm once his dad retired, something that wouldn’t happen any time soon, but it always felt like something he was being prepared for it.

And being honest, you couldn’t say that you knew this version of Seungcheol, not really. He was hot and cold with you, mostly cold, so it was hard to know where you stood in your relationship with him.

Truth was, that had a lot to do with you as well. You weren’t trying to make things easier for the two of you, if anything it felt like you were trying your best to make it as hard as possible — even if that wasn’t your intention at all.

While your husband was always perfectly on time, you were always running around late for every single appointment you could ever make. People from work already knew that if there was a student scheduled for 10:00h, you’d probably get there a little later. It really wasn’t on purpose, you tried your best to be on time, even tried to follow along with Seungcheol’s agenda. But it never worked out. So instead of being on time and having everything ready, all it did was make you nervous and even more late.

You also didn’t follow a schedule for your day. Every day, on your way home, you made a little detour, never failing in finding a new place to go or a different restaurant to try.

At the end of the day, you and Seungcheol lived separate lives, barely talking to each other, or even acknowledging each other. Most of it was just niceties because both of you felt the need to do so. It would have felt even more awkward to walk past each other in the hallway and don’t even say good morning. Anyone who looked at the two of you would think that you were just roommates, not actually married. Hell, not even friends.

If anything, the house arrangement contract you wrote made things even worse — if that was even possible.

After signing it, with a look of complete disbelief on his face, Seungcheol went to his room. His words “my own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying that I should date other women” still rang in your head. You didn’t mean for it to sound like that, you didn’t want to push him to do anything at all. Your only thought was that since the marriage was fake, there was no love between you, there was no reason for you to be stuck to each other and live completely without happiness.

There wasn’t anything either of you could do in that regard, there was no way of canceling or ending the marriage, so all you wanted to do was give him a way to find something that could bring him a little bit of joy. If said joy came in the shape of another woman, then so be it.

After that, you never talked again. And he barely showed any emotion at all around you, no reaction. He didn’t complain or seemed fazed when you almost let the dirty water you used to clean your brushes fall on his desk and ruin, well, everything. He still followed the rules you created, almost religiously. Whenever he cooked, he made enough for you, if he was the one doing laundry he was careful not to damage any of your clothes.

Living like that felt oddly lonely.

You were used to being by yourself, having your own space. The last time you shared an apartment with someone, or more specifically, a room, was when you were still in college with Yeda. But the thought of living with someone else but never actually seeing them…

You thought that once you were married you would have someone to share your life with, even if that someone turned out to be Seungcheol. Naively, you figured that all of those years of your childhood spent together — even if those were also forced on both of you —, would play a part in making sure that cohabitation was a possibility.

We could still try to be friends, was what you told yourself.

Because your husband wasn't all that bad, to begin with. You might not see eye to eye on many things but you knew that he was a good person. You had hoped that, maybe, living in the same place, seeing each other every day, would change something about your relationship with him. And in a way, it did. It just wasn't what you expected. Instead of growing closer, you couldn’t be further apart.

You glanced at your phone again, the bright numbers seemed to be mocking you.

It was past 3 am and there was still no sign of Seungcheol. When 9 pm rolled around you assumed he had stayed at the office a little bit longer, finishing up whatever it was. Then 9 became midnight and staying in bed wasn’t something you could stand anymore so you moved to the living room, a book and a blanket in hand. But reading too was hard, the words were all floating around in your mind and none of it actually made any sense. Your mind was too focused on the fact that Seungcheol wasn't home yet to focus on the story.

Another hour went by and there was still no sign of him. The world outside the apartment was quiet and no car could be heard on the street.

The truth was that you were worried about him. There were little bells inside your mind telling you that something must have happened to him because that just wasn’t Seungcheol. It wasn’t him when he was young and it also wasn’t him as an adult. He wasn’t the kind of person who would disappear without telling anyone, so you were sure that there was someone who knew where he was.

The most obvious choice would be to call him and it would have been a great plan if you had his number at all.

The realization that you knew nothing at all about your husband made a sickening feeling slowly spread through your body.

It was so stupid to not have his number and it made absolutely no sense because he was your husband. Even if you were a fake wife, shouldn’t you at least be able to communicate with him if needed? Sometimes people have emergencies that couldn’t wait for their significant other to get home — or in your case never get home at all.

Option number two was to go through the things in his office. He should have at least a business card or something, anything at all, with a phone number. You thought about calling your parents or even his parents. How would you explain that even though you kept telling them that everything was fine, that things were finally falling into place, you didn’t have your husband's number? And never mind knowing someone who worked with him. Seokmin, what that his name? Seokmin probably knew where Seungcheol was but then again, there was no way to reach him either.

You stood up to cross the room, your blanket and book both forgotten on the couch when you heard the sound of keys being put in the lock and a second later the door was pushed open.

Seungcheol stood precariously on his legs, an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, while the younger one tried his best to stop his friend from falling face-first on the floor.

“Cheol” you breathed in relief and rushed towards him, your hands reached for his cheeks, forcing him to look at you “Cheol…”

He opened his eyes for a second and a drunken smile, or at least an attempt at a smile.

“Ah, wife! Precisely who I wanted to see” his words were slurred, almost in sync with his body as it swayed from side to side.

Seungcheol stepped away from Seokmin and dropped all of his weight onto you. Your arms immediately circled his waist as you bent your knees a little, trying to hold him up.

"Sorry," Seokmin said as he tried to pull Seungcheol from you "I've never seen him get this drunk before, I didn't think it possible"

Neither did you, but then again there was a lot about Seungcheol that you didn't know.

"It's fine" you moved your feet back until you felt the couch behind your knees and with Seokmin's help you were able to get Seungcheol to sit "Thank you for bringing him home"

Seokmin smiled at you, tightly. He wanted to say more but he knew that if he did he would be butting in your relationship with Seungcheol and his friend would probably give him hell for it. Drunk Seungcheol was a problem — in the form of a cute lovesick oversized puppy, as he has recently discovered —, but sober Seungcheol would bite his head off without as much as a warning.

"I should have brought him home earlier, before he drank himself stupid"

You shook your head and pushed the hair out of Seungcheol’s forehead. You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at him, not really. Before he got home you felt this pain in your stomach, telling you that there was something incredibly wrong, that he was in some kind of trouble. But the only real trouble was the fact he had, as Seokmin said, drank himself stupid.

"Honestly, it's okay. I'm just glad he's home safe. Again, thank you for that"

"I wish I could say it was no trouble" he laughed lightly "Do you need help with anything?"

You shook your head.

"I got it from here"

Seokmin opened the door and let himself out. He stopped for a second as if remembering something and reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card. He didn't say anything as put it by your keyes.

You realized then that he knew. Seokmin knew about your relationship with Seungcheol, or lack of it. He just smiled and closed the door. You stayed frozen in place, looking at the door, as if somehow it would grant you answers.

Though you had told Yeda the true nature of your marriage, you never expected Seungcheol to do the same and to Seokmin, of all people. Not that you really knew him but just based on his interaction with Seungcheol on your wedding day, Seokmin was the last person you would expect to know the truth.

"y/n," Seungcheol said and you turned to him, "I think I want to throw up"

His warning was almost too late, there was no time to get him to the bathroom or for you to get him a bucket, but just enough for him to grab on the flower vase in front of the couch. You turned away from him, knowing that the smell of vomit wouldn't bother you, but seeing him throw up actually would.

"I'm really sorry"

It had been so long since you last heard him talk like that, almost childlike. The Seungcheol you knew liked to pose as this big, bad guy, but in reality, he was more of a softy that got things done. He could pout for days if he wanted.

Not only did he sound childlike, but he also looked like a child that messed up. His eyes were almost helpless as he looked at the floor, then his shoes, and finally his suit jacket.

"Don't worry about it" You reached a hand for him. His eyes focused on your hand, almost mesmerized, before his long fingers wrapped around yours "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed"

You helped him off his jacket and held both of his hands as he allowed you to pull him up from the couch. He pushed his shoes off once you reached the hall leading up to his room. This time, instead of putting all of his weight on you, Seungcheol used the wall to steady himself, still his arm was around your shoulder and he leaned a little towards you.

You wanted to ask him what happened, what made him want to drink so much. More than anything you wanted to know why he didn't warn you in advance.

Over the four months that you lived together, though there was no real interaction between the two of you, Seungcheol always found ways to talk to you. At first, there was a yellow post-it stuck to your door. They were simple notes. I made breakfast, or dinner with your parents tonight, I'll pick you up at 7. And sometimes they were more caring, those, you came to realize, were always blue. Do you still hate spinach? just in case, i didn't add any or let me know if there's anything you want to eat and even i canceled dinner tonight with my mom, you looked tired last night, you should rest this weekend.

He always made sure to tell you if he was going to be late, always. So not knowing where he was… you hated it.

Seungcheol didn't complain when you pushed him down on the mattress and undid his tie, later moving on to his shirt and then using it to clean his mouth

You didn't realize but Seungcheol's eyes were on you the entire time. Despite the alcohol, his mind was hyper-aware of your finger touching his skin, on the way you kept biting your lips as if doing your best to hold back from cussing him out.

"Can you shower on your own?" Seuncheol made a noise that you could only translate as a no "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

You probably already knew the answer to that too but still had to ask. His eyes were almost closed and he stayed sitting by some sort of miracle.

"I don't think I should stand up again" You nodded at him and turned around, you could at least get him to use some mouthwash before he fell asleep and maybe get him to drink a glass of water, but he held your hand and lightly pulled you back — not in a forcible way, just to get your attention "I don't like it when you make that face"

His voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper.

"It's the same face you did on our wedding day, when you walked down the aisle. You looked so pretty but sad, and angry too. Why were you so angry?"

You looked at his eyes for a second before looking away. They were all too demanding, wanting more than you were willing to give him. Your wedding day, believe it or not, wasn't a day you thought about too often and when you did think about it felt like years had gone by. The night you decided to suggest the contract was the one you thought of more often, with much more sadness.

"I wasn't angry"

Your voice was quiet as pulled the duvet for him to get under. In silence, Seungcheol removed his pants and laid down. He let go of your hand for only a second before holding it again.

"I was scared and worried, like today. You were gone for a really long time and I didn't know where you were. I couldn't even call you"

Having those thoughts around your mind was so different from actually saying them out loud, saying them to Seungcheol. If the night taught you one thing was that you didn't know anything at all about your husband. Everything you thought you knew was wrong. But if you could make a guess, judging by the way his eyes seemed to be a little more focused and his words a little less slurred, it was probably okay to say that he was sobering up. Maybe throwing up was all he needed.

"Our marriage is just so weird. My wife told me to sleep with other people" he laughed and pulled his hand away, closing his eyes "It's almost like we're friends with benefits but without the friendship part nor the benefits. We're just a piece of paper. If you think about it, we're nothing really"

Tomorrow, you suddenly promised yourself, tomorrow will be different and we will start this all over again.

The second he said yes to drinking with Seokmin, Seungcheol knew that he would regret it. The first time he went to a bar with the younger one, Seuncheol told him all about his fake marriage. So, of course, the second time couldn't be much different. He regretted it for more reasons than he cared to admit.

The entire night he behaved like a pubescent thirteen year old complaining about the fact that his crush didn't like him back. He was stupid enough to tell Seokmin all about the contract you came up with, to which his friend laughed hysterically. Because you must be the shitties husband in the history of the world if your wife has already given up on you like this.

And if that was what you thought of him, if you saw him as the worst husband in the history of the world, could he blame you? On your wedding way, that is known to be a day that everyone remembers, he was a complete idiot to you. No excuse he could ever come up with would be good enough. Because, truth be told, his behavior then had been inexcusable. In your shoes, he would have probably done much worse. You had shown him mercy.

And kept showing him mercy, even after months of him being silent and barely being in the apartment. He used work as an excuse often to get him out of situations in his daily life. He never thought that he would use it as a way to stay clear of you.

Because Seungcheol did work a lot but he also knew how to take time off. His job was important and his clients too were important, but he learned that he should have time to himself. and now that he was married, he needed to have time for you too. Even if it was just to stay home with you. He should have done that but instead, he found ways to be at the office until later than he usually did, took clients that he normally wouldn’t, and did the most stupid thing of all: went to a bar with Seokmin.

And the worse part of it all was that he remembered every single thing that he did the night before. He wished he was one of those people who get drunk and just forget about all the embarrassing things they did. But he wasn’t.

Seungcheol remembered being carried home by Seokmin, who again was having too much fun laughing at him, he remembers throwing up, the way you held on to him. But more than anything he remembers the way you said his name, Cheol, ever so quietly, when he walked in, the way your eyes searched his face as if looking for anything that could be wrong with him — other than being drunk.

He hated that he talked about being friends with you while he was drunk. Hated that you didn’t get to hear him while he was sober because he had prepared a whole speech for you, almost as if he was going to court and needed to plead his case.

He had plans to talk to you and maybe that was why he went out with Seokmin, to get his friend to push in the direction he wanted to go. Because truth be told, Seungcheol was scared.

For over ten years of his life, he knew that he would marry you. So had time to think about it, and ponder on every possibility that could happen. Because he had been in love with you for longer than that, but not once he was allowed to act on his feelings. At first, it was because of your brother, then because of himself, and then finally when you closed a door on his face — metaphorically speaking.

And when he finally had a chance to do so, he fucked up. There was no other way to say it. The two of you were already married, so what was the worst thing that could happen? For you to reject him? That was already happening.

He hated that he lost the chance to charm you from the get-go. And then again for months. He couldn’t miss the chance yet again.

Seungcheol pushed himself up on his elbows, tentatively opening his eyes. He expected the room to be filled with light but he was surprised to see that the only source of it came from the half opened door. He never closed his blinds before going to bed, he never felt the need to as he usually got up as soon as the sun was up, and he certainly hadn’t closed them the night before going to bed.

However, no amount of darkness could make him look past you, sleeping in a weird position in the armchair in front of his bed.

Seungcheol, who was usually a light sleeper, had no idea that you came into his room a couple of times during the night until you finally convinced yourself that it was okay for you to sleep in there because you were too afraid that we would throw up during the night; he had no idea that you got up in the middle of the night to pull the duvet over his body.

He knew nothing about those things, yet he felt overwhelmed at the sight of you.

For a second he wanted nothing more than to stay sitting there and just watch you. As creepy as it might be, it was the first time he felt like the two of you were more than just two people who shared the same apartment.

He could only hope that the night before had changed something for you too, because now there was no way he would just let things go back to how they were.

You were worried about Seuncheol. Had been the entire day. You woke up to the sound of the shower running and the sight of his empty bed in front of you. You left as soon as you woke up, deciding that he was probably way too hungover to want to talk to you then.

So instead of staying at home, wondering when it would be a good time talk to talk to him, you went out. There was nothing for you to do, no place to go and Yeda already had plans with her boyfriend so she couldn’t meet you.

You indulged yourself, going to the mall and getting a few new brushes and paint — not that you needed anything, but a mind filled with weird thoughts and a credit card with more limit than necessary could be the ruin of someone. But going there was somewhat of a bad idea, considering how many couples there were around.

All of them looked in love, happy to be around each other. You couldn’t help but wonder if it could be the same for you and Seungcheol. If you had talked to him in the months leading up to the wedding, would things be different now? If he hadn’t been a complete idiot on your wedding day, would things be different?

There were many answers to those questions, but none of them would matter. There was no way to go back to the past, to redo things. So all you had was the present, as it was, and a chance to change everything.

On your wedding day, your dad told you that he didn’t love your mother when they got married. He said that the love he felt for her was built over the years they stayed together. And you wanted to try that.

Because you never really believe in love at first sight, the idea of it was just too irrational for you. You believed that curiosity, attraction, lust, and enchantment could all be feelings that are awoken in someone at first sight. But love? That was a complicated feeling, that no three seconds look ever give you.

Because you wanted a love that was constantly warm. Too hot or too cold would burn you all the same. You didn’t want a relationship that was all over the place, with too many ups and downs.

And maybe, Seungcheol could that someone for you.

You had been standing in front of Seungcheol’s room for the past five minutes, building up the courage no knock on his door, had already raised your hand twice but was yet to finally do it. Seungcheol’s drunker words mirrored your thoughts, so you had to talk to him.

You took a deep breath before you forced your fingers to tap lightly against his door. You didn’t wait for his answer and stuck your head inside.

He was sitting on his bed, a book open over his chest while he scrolled through his phone. That was a scene you had seen many times while you were a teenager. It was easy to remember an 18-year-old Seungcheol lying on the couch, in that exact position.

“Seungcheol?” he looked at you surprised, he hadn’t heard you knock on his door “Come out, let’s have dinner”.

Without a word, Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. His surprised eyes were focused on the food on the table. He clearly remembered you telling him that you didn’t cook, your mom said the same thing too.

“You cooked?” he sounded a little nervous, as if unsure that he should be asking.

He looked cute, you decided then. There was this childish look in his eyes, half in wonder, half in expectancy.

Seungcheol was waiting for something to go wrong again. The last time you had gotten him dinner was the night everything went to shit. What if this time you told him that you wanted a divorce because of the shit he pulled the night before? He was honestly ready to beg you not to do that.

“No, I got it on the way home” you waved a hand and he laughed and you felt your cheeks get warm “Are you feeling better? I left before we could talk”

He smiled and nodded at you, looking at the food in front of him. There was nothing special about it, it was something that he could have cooked, but still, his heart did a little flip inside his chest.

“I’m sorry about last night. I swear I don’t drink like that all the time. Or at all” his own cheeks got hot “I’m sorry you had to clean up after me”

“It’s fine, really. Yeda was my roommate in college and I wish she would throw up in a vase. I think I cleaned that dorm more than anyone else that used it before or after us”

Yeda was a good friend, but she took the idea of being the life of the party a little too far sometimes. That alone was the reason you found yourself going back to your parents' house almost every weekend. You had convinced yourself that the two-hour drive was worth it, if it meant that you didn’t have to clean vomit again.

The two of you eat in silence as you tried to find a good way to start a conversation with him. Why was it so hard? You had no trouble talking with him when you were teenagers. Sure, there was a lot of bickering but that was still better than nothing at all.

“Is everything okay with you? You’re not eating” he said quietly. the food in front of him was almost gone while yours had barely been touched “You don’t like the food?”

You shook your head and set down your fork.

“I’m a little nervous, so it’s hard to eat” he didn’t need to ask to know what you were nervous about “Can we talk, please?”

In silence, the two of you put the dishes away and the food leftovers on the fridge. There was no way either of you would keep eating so it was better not to waste any time.

Seungcheol’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour. He was certain, 100%, that would you ask for a divorce. He knew that you couldn’t do it. The rational part of his brain told him that it wasn’t an option at all. But the irrational side? It didn’t care. All the worse possible scenarios were playing in his mind.

The first one, as he expected, would be for you to ask for a divorce; the second one would be you telling him that there was someone in your life, someone you were in love with.

That thought alone was enough to make his heart ache. You being in love with someone else was too much for him.

“Oh my god! Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm not going to bite your head off! I want to talk with my husband. Millions of people do that every day. I'm sure millions of people are probably doing that right now”

He smiled then. That was exactly how remembered you, that was the you he wanted to see the most on your wedding day, when he talked shit and you talked right back at him. Because there was no way that he would get to have the last word in a conversation like that.

And it was also the first time you addressed him as your husband, at least in front of him. The first time you said it out loud.

But in that moment you confused his feelings for fear when all that he felt was some sort of joy. How borderline pathetic was it that he felt happy over the simple fact that his wife acknowledged his existence?

“The things you said last night… I agree with them. Our marriage won't last very long, we won't last very long, if we continue this way. We will be broken beyond repair if we don't do something right now. So we have to change, we have to, at the very least, be friends but we will never get there if we keep going this way”

That wasn't exactly what you wanted to say but you hoped that Seungcheol would understand, wished that he would read into your sloppy and messy words. He was a lawyer, after all, it was what he did for a living. Right?

“Let's go out once a week then, sort of like a date? But not really” you shook your hand and covered your face, you felt like a teenager asking the guy you had a crush on a date “Just so we can get used to each other again, be friends and all that”

Seungcheol pressed his lips, trying his best to suppress the smiles that threatened to take over his entire face. With a short nod and shake of hands, you and Seungcheol settled down on another agreement.

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drak3n · 9 months

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THE LOST LOVE

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: two lovers who went seperate ways years ago… one of the cases we love most!

ꨄ. CONTENT WARNINGS: exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, age gap (reader was in college & toji in his thirties when they met), dad!toji, breakup, implied divorce, insecurities, smut, unprotected sex

bold italic quotes = letter excerpts

PROLOGUE. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i like to think that meeting each other was like a breath of fresh air. for both of us. wouldn’t you agree?”

wake up. go to work. get home. eat. sleep. repeat.

toji’s life was a vicious cycle, one of a middle age man with no goals in life. it was funny to him how people would actually call that a life.

the only times he truly felt like he was alive was when he was seated on the bleachers watching a good old horse race. or a boat race. or whatever it was that he had bet money on.

no one understood him.

toji knew that life rarely gifted him anything. he was no lucky man. in the many years of betting and gambling, he seldomly won. and the money he had won those few times was enough to cover the ticket and perhaps a nice dinner.

and although knowing he was probably going to leave empty-handed, he did it for the thrill. it made him feel youthful again. like he hadn’t wasted his years on useless things that aged him faster than he had hoped to. like he was still the same old teenager he had been years ago.

it wasn’t until one fated day that he found out that there were other things that could bring him back to his youth, other than doing useless crap that only burned a hole in his pocket.

said thing being you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“the way we met wasn’t really romantic. it wasn’t like a scene out of a movie or a novel. looking back, it was quite comedic, even. i’m sure you felt the same way.”

there were a lot of terrible things that came with being a busy person, one of which you were facing right now. standing in front of a ridiculously long line at the grocery store.

you ran out of basic ingredients for cooking, it was a saturday evening, and you really did not want to order takeout again for a third time this week.

standing in front of you was a group of drunken kids — by kids you meant they were around your age, maybe in college like you — but they were different. they seemed carefree. they used their time to have fun and laugh instead of constantly grumping and punishing you with more work than you had.

you wished you could be like them, too. at least sometimes.

what made you get out of your train of thoughts was the sound of an item being placed on the conveyor belt, the rattling sounding too familiar for your liking. another person who hated cooking, so it seemed. and another person who barely had enough change to get a cup of instant noodles.

it was a man — you heard from the occasional sighs and grunts leaving his lips, and the way his cologne wafted over to invade your senses.

why did you suddenly have the urge to turn around and bond with this random stranger? perhaps hit him up with something like ‘heck, youngsters these days, right?’

absolutely not. that would be goofy as hell. and judging by how slowly the like progressed, you were likely going to stand here for at least ten more minutes. you would rather die than make a fool of yourself and then proceed to stand here for even longer afterwards.

oddly enough, the huffing stranger beat you to it. your breath hitched in your throat at the gruff voice sounding.

“s’cuse me, little lady.”

a bulky arm shot forward from behind you, making you step aside to grant him access to the side of the conveyor. you cleared your throat, turning around with an apologetic smile— and damn was he hot.

he looked quite a bit older than you, and he looked quite… distraught. sleepless, deep green eyes, unruly jet black hair that looked like he hadn’t gotten cut in a while, and a stubble gracing his jaw and chin.

you hated romanticizing people who weren’t feeling their best. so, you quickly snapped out of it.

“sorry for hogging the conveyor.” you chuckled, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere as everyone else in the line was quite angry. the man gave you a halfhearted smile, scar on the right side of his mouth stretching. you wondered how he’d gotten that scar.

“don’t worry ‘bout it,” he waved your apology off, slightly motioning at the impatient woman huffing and puffing behind him. “someone’s just very fuckin’ annoying.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. then, your eyes wandered to the conveyor, staring up to meet his again. “you can get in front of me, sir.” you offered kindly, already moving to make some space in front of you, “don’t have to wait even longer for a single item.”

the surprise in his eyes was a dead giveaway that no one had been polite or nice to him in a long time. before he could make it obvious, he shook his head, uttering, “s’fine. thanks.”

but you insisted, for some reason. it wasn’t until he was standing in front of you, cup of ramen placed in front of your groceries, and the seething woman now standing right behind you, that you were happily smiling.

the man walked off after paying for his noodles when the line finally progressed what felt like years later, not even sparing you a glance. you were barely able to contain your disappointment as you bagged your groceries and shuffled outside of the store, ready to take the train back home with full hands.

just to see the man from the line in the grocery store thumbing at the instant noodle cup’s lid, lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

his hands wordlessly approached yours to take your bags of groceries, not even frowning at the heaviness of them, as he let out a puff of cigarette smoke.

“i’ll drop ya off, little lady.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“our love was fierce. characterized by sleepless nights, stolen breaths and undying passion.”

ragged breaths filled the air of your small bedroom. it was dark, perhaps around nighttime, and the air was thick with sweat, arousals and the sinful smell of sex.

a lazy kiss was exchanged between you two with swollen, trembling lips as you settled down in each other’s arms. your eyes were shut as toji moved a little to light a cigarette.

your fingertips traced over his bare, built chest, post-orgasmic glow making his handsome face look even prettier. you were convinced he was the prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life.

“are you staying for dinner?” you asked, voice hoarse and quiet from how he had formerly railed you into your mattress. toji wasn’t a gentle lover. the word soft was very foreign to him. but you didn’t mind that. you didn’t mind him squeezing your hand too tightly whenever he held it. he didn’t know any better.

he exhaled the cigarette smoke away from you, large palm settling on the tender, bruised flesh on your hips. his thick, rough fingers traced over the softness of your skin that he had grabbed and kneaded mere minutes ago while manhandling you.

“sorry, baby,” he mumbled into your hair as you already knew what was coming, “gotta go. i’ll stay over next time, promise.”

you wanted him to stay, you really did, but with a sigh, you watched as he got dressed and left — not without pulling you into another kiss. missing the way his eyes twisted with a hint of guilt as he shut the door to your apartment behind himself.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you weren’t a man of many words. you didn’t like talking too much about yourself. but you’d always listen to whatever i’d say. and whenever i wasn’t up to talk, we’d relish in each other’s silence. it was calming.”

“how many girlfriends have you had before me?”

the silence surrounding the air on your balcony after your question made you reconsider if it was a smart thing to ask.

it wasn’t. since when was it okay to talk about exes? you remembered it as one of the most off-putting conversation topics to ever come up with.

toji’s bare arms were propped up against the metal railing, gaze wandering from the unspectacular sight below him that consisted of old, run down buildings and sketchy streets, to you.

he knew it was too late to tell you the truth. he pressed his scarred lips together in regret, before opening his mouth to respond to your question.

“many.”

he saw the way your nose scrunched up at the ugly word — he wished it had been the truth. much better than hurting you with a fucking lie. made him wonder how you’d react to the truth.

“c’mere.” when you didn’t make a move to approach toji, he pulled you into him, dwarfing your body in his form. “you’re not mad, are you?”

“how could i ever be mad at you?”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“there was just one thing i wish you had just told me from the beginning. you know, i actually knew the entire time. i was just waiting for you to tell me.”

“dad, the show’s about to start.”

toji was now a couple of years older, about to celebrate his fourth decade of living in a few weeks. he wouldn’t admit that he was getting older. he had just plucked another gray hair from his scalp this morning, but no one had to know that.

sock-clad feet padded from the kitchen to the living room, bowl of salted popcorn in his hand as he placed it in front of his college-aged kid. toji was in awe at how the brat was becoming more of a carbon copy of himself the more years passed.

the only difference being his spiky, wild hair and blue eyes he had gotten from his mother.

“we’re not watching a match today?” toji sounded rather bored as he leaned back on the couch with a can of soda in his hand, legs finding the surface of the living room table as the younger man munched on sweets.

megumi shook his head, eyes focused on the screen that was still playing some shampoo commercial. “have you ever heard of TATMYLB?” the green-eyed man beside him narrowed his eyes at the obnoxiously long abbreviation, .

“kid. i don’t understand your language,” he grunted, “i’m headin’ out if it’s another high school rom com.” said boy only snorted as he pointed at the tv that happened to be playing a trailer of what was going to be playing next.

“reading today… TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE’s 26th letter!” toji kissed his teeth. of course it was going to be some sappy ass show. why was it so popular anyway?

he raised from the couch, scratching his belly lazily under his sweater as he pointed to the door with his thumb. “gonna check the mail,” he uttered, “we haven’t emptied our mailbox in days.”

megumi hummed, too immersed in what today’s live episode was going to be about. just as toji approached the door, curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself listening.

“unfortunately, she won’t be joining us today, but we have received a beautifully written letter by her! what a lucky man to have been loved like this.” the host spoke gleefully as the audience erupted into cheers and applause.

“our writer is a 29 year old lady from tokyo, a journalist for a very popular newspaper, which explains her splendid writing,” the co-host added, “she has met a man she refers to as her LOST LOVE nine whole years ago.”

toji set his keys down on the shoerack and walked back to the living room. megumi took notice of his dad walking back and smirked. “caught your attention, old man?” he only scowled at his son and placed his hands on the back of the couch.

the stage was beautifully built, and one could tell how much budged was spent on it all. it was a hell lot of pink, too much for toji’s liking — then again, any amount of pink was too much for his liking. the hosts were dolled up to the max, host dressed in a baby pink, frilly dress with her hair done up while the co-host was dressed in a pink suit.

“adding on to that… we have not received an answer or a reaction from the recipient.” a glum round of oh’s echoed across the studio, which made toji snort. “which doesn’t have to mean anything, of course! perhaps he’s just terrible at checking his mail.”

megumi stopped mid-chew as he side-eyed his father, who shot him a look. “old man, you don’t think—” megumi might have been young, but he had a very good memory of his father’s past lovers. especially that one woman who had changed him forever. you.

although he had never met you, he could tell it was you who had a huge impact on his father. and he figured that toji never opened up about having had a son.

“don’t be silly, bud,” toji laughed, reaching over to steal a handful of popcorn from the bowl in his son’s lap. he didn’t even like popcorn, why the hell was he eating it? it had to be the most annoying snack in the world with how the shell of the kernels always got stuck in one’s gums or throat.

you must have moved on years ago. it’s been almost a decade, for fuck’s sake. perhaps you were married already. had kids. he hated how the thought made his jaw clench. it was none of his business anymore, after all.

“mistakes. we all make them. so far, we have had a lot of letters speaking about wrongdoings,” the host clapped her hands together, “but how about keeping secrets? crucial ones?”

of course they were going to drag it on. what a bunch of clowns the audience was for eating it up. he totally wasn’t, not with the way he was clutching the couch cushions in anticipation.

he just wanted to know it wasn’t you, so he could move on in peace. because if you have moved on, then he shall do the same.

the audience was then asked to talk about their experiences with secrets in a relationship, before they started guessing what the person might have done.

eventually, an elderly woman received the mic and laughed. “it wasn’t another woman, so,” she paused, “i’d say hiding a child.”

the two hosts opened their mouths before knowingly looking at the audience, and toji cleared his throat. by now, megumi was fully facing his father, a look of disbelief on his face. before he could speak, toji raised a palm.

“i said don’t be silly,” he warned megumi, “it’s not me. jesus.” megumi shook his head before raising his palm to invite his father to a handshake, challenging him to a bet, “fifty bucks if it’s you, then.”

toji could never say no to bets. maybe he should have checked his mailbox first, though.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

the show was halfway through, currently on a commercial break as you found yourself in the kitchen to prepare yourself a cup of instant noodles. the sight of the cup still brought you back to day you had met toji.

before you could open the lid of the cup, you were halted by the sound of your doorbell ringing. leaving behind the sounds of your kettle whistling, you approached tye door to look through the—

your hand immediately flew to the handle to fling the door open. to stare right at the man you hadn’t seen in over seven years.

there was a lot both of you wanted to say. he wanted to apologize for having disappeared out of nowhere, for having abandoned you when things had been going so well between both of you; while you wanted to slap him, cuss him out and scream at him.

alas, all that came out was a choked sob on your behalf. a sound forced out of your throat, displaying the despair you had felt out of the lack of closure.

toji watched with wide eyes as you broke down in front of him. he wanted to make you happy. or get yelled at. anything but you crying. fuck, he was terrible at this.

toji was only ever good at leaving. that’s what he had done back then when his family no longer served him; that’s what megumi’s mother had spat at him before she left.

screw the past. screw all of his fears. he had waited far too long to come clean. you didn’t deserve this at all.

“i’m sorry.” he breathed, taking a step closer, now partially surrounded by the warmth of your place that hadn’t changed in the slightest. “i hid him from you because—”

you shook your head, trembling hands raising to wipe at your reddened eyes, “i don’t give a damn, toji.” he shut his mouth, because respectfully, you had all the right to be angry.

what he didn’t expect was for you to chuckle through tears. “stop looking at me like that,” you pointed at his lips, “that stupid pout of yours…” he had a habit of pursing his lips whenever he was distressed. you hadn’t forgotten about it.

when you stepped aside to welcome toji inside, he was baffled. “‘course you didn’t read the letter,” you sneered, which made him look down grimly, “if you had, you’d know that i could never be mad at you.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

you didn’t ask toji to, but he told you everything. how he had just gotten divorced when he met you, and who had fought for split custody the entire time. who couldn’t have you over at his place because of the child’s room he had.

it wasn’t like he was ashamed to have had megumi. he considered him one of the very few good things in his life. but, he couldn’t risk scaring you off. not when he had found someone as perfect for him as you.

and when things got serious, he did what he knew best. which was to bolt.

it wasn’t a surprise to him that you already knew. he had the wrong idea of you by thinking you’d push him away just because he had a son. now he knew that you could have been the best stepmother megumi could have asked for.

if he hadn’t blown it all.

“so he’s in college now?” you were smiling as you were both situated on your couch. toji feld oddly calm looking at you. you hadn’t changed much.

“this was us at his high school graduation,” he couldn’t help but smile too as he showed you his phone wallpaper. the thought that you could have been on that picture too made your smile fade for a second before you found yourself melting at how proudly he glanced down at his son in his crinkled button-down shirt, one arm lazily slung over the boy who looked at the camera with an irritated, forced smile.

you wondered if megumi would have liked you and already accepted you as his stepmother if toji hadn’t left. wondered if you two would have been married by now—

thoughts like those were useless now.

it happened so fast. like the force of two magnets attracting each other, it felt like you were pulled towards each other. a mumbled ‘i missed you’ left your lips before they planted themselves on his, both of you getting lost in the sensation of the other’s lips.

toji’s lips tasted like salt and popcorn, whereas yours tasted of the peace of candy you had popped into your mouth while waiting for the water to boil.

ah… right. the water. the kettle had stopped whistling a while ago. but both of you were busy sucking each other’s faces to notice that.

you were sat prettily on toji’s lap, hands running across his muscles hidden by his clothes. the only sign of him having aged were the tiny wrinkles on the corners of his eyes. other than that, he still looked like the 31 year-old toji you had met in the line of the grocery store.

he was the same man you had given your heart to. and you were eager to do it all again.

your clothing was shedded in a matter of minutes, hastily and in a rush. it felt like you were being intimate with each other for the first time all over again with wide eyes and shaky hands.

toji pressed you into his chest as he slid inside of you, and it seemed like the world stopped for a while. toji didn’t do soft, he wasn’t gentle. but you could swear you saw nothing but softness and adoration in his eyes in this very moment.

once he started thrusting up into you, your hands straddled his face, fingers digging into his skin as if afraid to let go. toji saw and felt the fear in your eyes, and he took both of your hands to place soft kisses on them.

“‘m not leaving again,” he grunted, relishing in the tightness and warmth he was buried inside of, “promise.”

you whimpered, nodding as you pulled him into yet another sensual, messy kiss while you worked each other through your releases. out of all the times you and toji had sex, this had to be the rawest, most intimate time.

it wasn’t fucking. it was love-making. the kind you’d never expect from a man like toji.

he stayed inside of you after both of you came, buff arms trapping you as you listened to his slowing heartbeat as both of you trembled. neither of you wanted to move, if you could, you’d stay like this forever.

toji’s lips against your temple pulled you back from your daze, and you reached for your underwear to avoid a mess, sighing softly when he pulled out of you. “shower?” he asked, to which you nodded lazily.

before he could lift and throw you over his shoulder, you placed a kiss on his collarbone.

“let’s eat instant noodles and rewatch the episode after that. since you haven’t read the letter—”

oh, toji was never going to hear the end of this.

but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

630 notes · View notes

alderaana · 1 year

Text

pretty, pretty girl.

leon kennedy is your older brother's best friend, you're freshly eighteen.

nsfw, p-v, virgin reader, slightly older leon. please wrap it before you tap it.

Your birthday was highly anticipated. Finally legal, so many opportunities that have opened up to you. Your parents had showered you with gifts all day, leading up to your party tonight.

"Happy birthday sis, here's a little something from me."

Your brother smiles, handing you a medium wrapped box. You smile, tearing the package as he leans up against the wall to watch you.

"Oh my god- Danny you seriously didn't.."

You were met with a signed slipknot shirt, all of the current members had signed it...

"i jumped through hoops for that so you better love it."

Your brother laughs as you engulf him in a huge hug.

"Thank you so much, seriously this is amazing."

"Don't sweat it kid, you made it to the border of adulthood."

You smile, admiring the shirt and thanking your brother again. making your way upstairs, you glance over your notifications of all of your friends wishing you happy birthday.

You place the shirt on your desk, admiring it fully before hearing your parents call you downstairs.

"coming!"

The stairs are stiff as you run down them, finding your parents in the kitchen.

"Hey birthday girl! your party is going to start soon, we wanted to know if you had a time for the family to leave and it just be us and your friends?"

You nod.

"Can it be around 8? I think that will be enough time for grandma and grandpa since the party starts at three."

"Sounds great. well help round them up around eight then."

Your mom smiles as your dad opens his phone, presumably to let the family that was coming know. you had a bunch of your friends coming over to spend the night for your birthday.

---

Your family all came pouring into your living room, holding gifts as you and your parents greeted them. Soon after your friends were doing the same.

The party was fun, but oddly overstimulating. There are so many people in your house which wasn't common at all. When it came time for cake, everyone gathered around as you stared at the Sicilian cheesecake with a candle sat in front of you. The tension was high in your brain as everyone serenades you for your occasion.

The candles flicker out as you blew them out, the sounds of cheers as you did so. A good amount of "you made it!" and "you're getting so grown" were thrown towards you as everyone cut their slice out. You smiled at everyone, enjoying your cake.

Presents were the most exciting yet nervous time of the night. Lots of money made its way into your hands, your friends gifting you lots of casually sexual things which you would laugh with them about later.

"Thank you all so much, seriously. I am so grateful."

Your smile seals your sentiment as your family all gather around to take a picture with you. a momentum for the scrapbook, you finally being legal.

"Alright, it's getting late you all."

Your mother pipes in, silently hinting for everyone to roll out so you could spend just one on one time with your friends. Everyone wishes you one last time as they roll out slowly, some help pick up and take some food from dinner home.

Your mother sighs as she shuts the door, turning back to you and your friends.

"Alright girls. we'll leave you alone now, don't go too crazy."

Both of your parents head upstairs, leaving you with your friends.

"So what now hm?"

Jess pipes in, giggling with everyone else.

"I honestly don't know. my family was kind of exhausting."

You say, rubbing your eyes as you turn the tv on.

"Do you guys want to watch a movie?"

"Let's just listen to music, you'll pass out if you watch a movie."

Madi says laughing, grabbing the remote and putting on a party playlist.

"Yeah come on, it's your birthday let's make the day last!"

You laugh, shaking your head as they make you stand up, encouraging you to dance with them.

"You guys are insane, fine."

You dance with them, letting yourself enjoy it as they turn the lights off. The TV being the only illumination as you danced more with them. Madi grabs your sides, giggling as she dances up against you. You all laughing as Jess takes pictures, both of you posing stupidly as the music plays louder.

"Hey! turn that down. mom and dad are asleep."

Your brother says from the bottom of the stairs, laughing at all of you.

"Sorry Danny, guess we just got a bit carried away."

Your friends laugh and hum in agreement.

"Well, either way I had to get something from downstairs and it was way too loud coming out of my bedroom."

You laugh, watching your brother head towards the front door, assuming he's getting something from his car.

Unfortunately, you were wrong. he opened the door and you were met with his best friend holding a present. The man was wearing a leather jacket, his hair slightly damp as it was pouring rain outside.

"Am i late to the party?"

You freeze, your friends being confused. He smirks as he with one arm goes in for a hug and pat on the back with your brother.

"Sorry, i totally forgot to tell you Leon was coming over sis."

You shakily laugh as you regain your composure.

"No it's fine, and no you aren't late at all."

Leon walks up to you, handing you the gift.

"Good, this is for you kiddo."

"You seriously didn't have to Leon."

You admire the packaging, its decorated with black sleek wrapping paper, a red bow decorating the top.

"C'mon, open it."

Your friends sit up, looking at you as you awkwardly look down at it. Your hands slowly unwrap the present, treating it as if it was a bomb in your hands.

Inside the box was a bomber jacket, black with gold embroidery on the back that made into a moth.

"Holy shit Leon. where the fuck did you get this?"

He laughs, happy with your reaction. You smile wide as you throw it on, it fits exactly how you wanted it to.

"Looks perfect on you."

A blush creeps over your face as you surge forward, hugging Leon tightly. he's caught off guard, slowly hugging you back.

"She doesn't even hug me, and my gift was better!"

Your brother says, laughing in shock. Leon looks over at him, laughing lightly as you break the hug.

"The slipknot shirt was just as good Danny, I just don't want to touch you. you reek of old spice and Leon doesn't."

You and your friends laugh, Leon trying not to join as your brother's face looks jokingly offended.

"Okay, you're lucky it's your birthday or I seriously would have went there."

He points at you menacingly as you laugh.

"Alright, i'm going to hang out with Danny now."

He ruffles your hair.

"Happy birthday again."

Leon smiles as he heads upstairs with your brother.

"Dude your brother's friend is hot."

Jess whispers, you glaring her down.

"I fucking know. and he's always been hot..." you sigh, Madi and Jess looking at eachother in glances.

"so what's stopping you now?"

Madi asks, searching for your answer. The idea was in your mind, especially with the way he hugged you back. He was always someone you crushed on, ever since Leon and Danny started being friends. that was five years ago, but you never let it really control you. He always seemed like someone out of reach even if you tried. for god's sake he's 23, and you're freshly 18.

"Uhh..."

You look down, shyly shuffling your feet.

"Because he's way older you guys. he's 23 just like Danny."

Madi laughs, "and?"

You scoff.

"That's a bit of difference.... i don't know you guys."

Your friends look at you like you said something outlandishly stupid.

"Dude... even if he doesn't seem interested i would try and go for it."

"You guys are being bad influences cmon.."

"Bad influences?? with the way that man looks? no we definitely aren't."

You sigh, sitting down in between them.

"Dude, just go upstairs and find a lame excuse to be in Danny's room."

It wasn't a bad idea, there were several things you could go into his room for. Asking if he had an empty laundry basket, keys to his car because you left something in his car, etc...

"Okay well let's go to my room and think about this more."

Madi claps excitedly, "yes let's make tonight us helping you out as wingwomen." Jess smiles and nods, all of you heading upstairs to your room. which uncomfortably was next to Danny's. Footsteps were soft as everyone heads into your room. Madi plopping onto your bed as Jess sits in the chair for your desk. You close the door and look back at them, who both share the biggest shit eating grin.

"Guys come on... don't look at me like that."

"Okay, so what if you go in there and ask if Danny can heat up some of the food from dinner.”

You deadpan Jess.

“What.. i’m hungry it’s not like you’re lying.”

Sighing, you nod and make your way out of the room. Stopping at the closed door to your brother’s room. You could hear them laughing, playing some sort of video game. You suck in deeply and open the door, being met with Leon sprawled out on the bed watching your brother play some game. They both turn towards you, and notice Leon wearing a black tee that fit him extremely well.

“Danny can you heat up some of the food for my friends and we’re hungry again.”

He looks annoyed as he shakes his head.

“Can’t you do it yourself? It’s literally so simple.”

“Yeah but it’s my birthday and i won’t put that on my friends.”

Danny gets up, visibly annoyed and loudly sighs.

“Fine.”

Leon laughs, watching Danny leave the room.

“He was in the middle of a match, but good job making him get up.”

You nervously lean up against the doorway, smiling at Leon.

“You should see him when you’re not around.”

Leon props himself onto his elbows, making direct eye contact with you.

“Oh believe me, i’ve known him so long i hear about it every single time now.”

You scoff, jokingly holding your chest.

“Wow. what a brother.”

You admire Leon as he laughs, his legs spread apart and his sweatpants fit exactly how you want them to.

“Cmon, you know Danny. How surprised can you be.”

You giggle back, nodding in agreement.

“I guess you’re right.”

You bite your lip gently, focusing on the floor for a second before deciding to be bold.

“So Danny told me you’ve been enjoying your federal job? How is that going?”

He sits up more, now on the edge of the bed. His elbows propped on his knees as he looks up at you.

“It’s alright. I make the money i want to, and i’d like to say i’m pretty good at what I do.”

You gently nod, shifting against the doorway.

“You don’t come around as often because of it.. I noticed that. Danny did too.”

He smiles, looking at his hand.

“You pay attention to that?”

His tone gets flirty, and a little stern. It catches you off guard.

“Well…. Don’t say it like that..”

He stands up, getting closer as you start to internally panic.

“Oh i know it’s exactly like that.”

He leans closer, his hand running underneath your chin forcing you to make eye contact with him. You couldn’t feel air in your lungs as you stare into his gaze, him smirking slightly as he towers over you.

“I’m going to check on Danny, we can talk about this later birthday girl.”

Leon chuckles, walking past you and going downstairs. You couldn’t feel your face as you try and calm your breath. What the fuck?

You walk into your room, being met with two faces of anticipation.

“Well?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Danny has food ready downstairs, let's go.”

You turn around, walking down the stairs as your friends lightly tap your shoulder unspokenly asking what happened.

You avoid eye contact as Danny hands you a plate of food, sitting on the couch. Your friends thanking Danny. You focus on your food until Leon sits near you on the couch. They had made themselves a plate as well, but the silence was killing everyone. Your phone buzzes underneath your leg.

Jess: dude WHAT happened…… it’s so awkward? Did it go badly?

You look up, glaring Jess down from your end of the couch.

“I think i’m just going to eat in my room, you coming le?”

Danny asks, waiting for Leon.

“Nah, i’ll finish then come up.”

“Yeah we might do the same Danny.”

Your friends follow Danny upstairs with their plates, leaving you and Leon alone. Fuck. your phone vibrates again.

Madi: this is for your own good

You sigh, throwing your phone down and trying to just focus on your food.

“Your friends know what they’re doing, huh?”

Leon laughs, standing up and putting his plate in the dishwasher. He makes his way over to you, grabbing your empty plate and doing the same. You try to get up and make a run for upstairs but Leon stops you before you can even think about it.

“You’re so pretty when you’re nervous….. I love it.”

He holds eye contact with you, and all you can do is lightly gulp unsure of how to react.

“L-Leon what are you doing”

He grabs your wrist, standing up and forcing your chest against his.

“Don’t play fucking dumb.”

You try to free his grip, but he already was so much stronger than you. His free hand comes to run through your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“Pretty, pretty girl.”

His hand comes underneath your chin again, bringing it to his face as he lays a gentle kiss to yours. You catch yourself kissing back, his hand slowly letting go of your wrist. You could feel your heart rate going through the roof, his hand catching your lower back.

“Leon…”

“Your brother is going to notice me being gone for so long.”

He smirks, letting go of you and heading upstairs. Again, what the fuck?

You stand there for a moment, realizing that this was the second time he had left you in that position now. Why was he treating you this way? He was just calling you kiddo earlier. My god. You grab your phone, heading upstairs and finding your friends.

“Seriously guys. That was fucked up.”

More confused looks.

“What even happened?”

You sigh, throwing yourself onto your bed. As you speak, you zone out at the ceiling.

“He kissed me, then just left.”

They both jump up, trying to not squeal since he was literally in the room next to theirs.

“Dude… you’re in!!!”

“I don’t even know… he just left me so fucking confused.”

“Oh shut up. Do you think he’ll take your virginity?? Oh my god. Jess, we need to sleep in the guest room.”

Madi exclaims to Jess, causing you to roll over and scream into your pillow.

“Guys! Stopppp.”

You try not to smile, but you definitely weren’t good at it. You were just okay with kissing him, but losing your virginity? That was a dream come true.

“You know what… It is getting late.”

Jess smugly smiles at Madi, who nods in agreement.

“Yeah. it is.. Guess we will have to sleep in the guest bedroom now.”

They both get up, starting to grab their things. You can’t even stop them as by the time you could even argue they were out of your room.

“Oh my god. They just fucking bailed on me. This is not fair.”

You get up, sighing as you turn your light off. You could hear Danny lightly snoring as you laid down in bed. You open your phone up, texting Jess and Madi that they were dicks but that you loved them at the same time. You scroll on social media, before getting up to use the bathroom.

The hallway was dark, and you stumble around until you open the bathroom door. After finishing your business you wash your hands, admiring yourself in the mirror before drying your hands and heading back to your bedroom.

As soon as you close your door, you turn around to find Leon sitting on your bed.

“Your friends ditched you.”

He spoke in a whisper, but you could still hear how smug he was about it.

“What are you doing in here-”

Leon pulls you towards him, you stare down at him. The only thing illuminating the both of you was your lamp on your desk.

“Finishing what I started, that’s all.”

“And what is that, Leon?”

He trails his hands up and down your sides, his hands slightly underneath the bottom of your shirt.

“So beautiful.”

He breathes out, his hands trailing farther up your shirt. You put your hands on his chest, subtly stopping him.

“Leon, if you’re fucking with me. It’s obviously working. Is this some dare Danny made you do? Because that is low.”

He pulls you into his lap, causing you to gasp in surprise as he holds your back.

“Danny would kill me if he caught us like this, so no.”

He smiles, watching your face determine and realize what’s happening. He cups your face with his other hand, kissing you again. Leon’s hand on your back lowers, cupping your ass. You moan into the kiss which encourages Leon even more. He grabs your ass, his hips pressing into you. The kiss deepens, and you can feel his boner underneath you.

“Fuck.”

He breathes out, admiring your face as you stare right back at him. You catch yourself sitting up, straddling him better. His hands meet your hips encouraging you to keep doing what you were doing. You lean down, kissing Leon harder as his hips press up slightly from the contact.

You run your fingers through his hair, then cupping the side of his face. Leon is an amazing kisser, he really knows how to take the lead. His tongue moved perfectly against yours, biting on his lower lip caused him to grip your hips harder.

“Let me take care of you…. It’s your birthday.”

Before you can respond, he flips you onto your back. He leans over you, kissing slowly down your neck as he bites and licks small hickeys onto it. You whine which causes him to slowly grind into you. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the attention. His hand comes up, cupping your boob as he kisses more into your neck.

“Leon please..”

He perks up, a smirk on his face.

“Please what, princess?”

You blush, feeling yourself heat up as your core throbs at the pet name. He looks down at your shirt.

“Let’s take this off. Is that what you want?”

You nod shyly, letting Leon help you out of your shirt. His breath hitches at your lace bra, obviously not expecting that. He leans in and kisses you harder, excited over the new exposure of skin.

“So beautiful baby… going to make you feel so good I promise..”

Leon breathes out, kissing your neck again and trailing down to your boobs. You grab his hair, lightly moaning as he leaves darker hickeys on your tits. You grab at the bottom of his shirt, silently asking for him to take his off as well.

“Yeah? Alright baby….”

He leans up, taking his shirt off. His body was insane… You knew he went to the gym but he was built. You catch yourself staring before Leon leans down again. You feel along his back as he kisses you, his hips starting to grind against you again. You whimper into his lips, causing him to smirk into the kisses. Leon’s hand trails down to the waistband of your pants.

“Do you want this?”

You blush at the question, starting to slightly tremble at the excitement.

“Yes Leon..”

“Ill be gentle, just for you baby.”

He smiles, sitting up to pull your pants off. His breath hitches as he realizes your panties match your bra, causing his dick to jump a little. He tosses your pants onto the floor, laying further down, spreading your legs. You can’t stop trembling as you watch him. His broad shoulders hold your legs as his arms hold your thighs. He looks up at you, smiling. He taps your thigh with his finger, silently saying it’s okay. You calm down, giving Leon the leeway to start.

His hand trails over your clit, admiring the underwear. He slowly pulls it to the side, admiring how beautiful you are.

“Oh my god..”

You feel Leon sigh onto your pussy, the bed slightly moving from Leon grinding into the mattress. He gently feels your entrance, admiring the slick you’ve produced. He licks his fingers, slightly whining at the taste.

“Mmnmmm. Are you ready?”

You nod, still nervous. He slowly peppers kisses around your thighs, finally latching onto your clit. You whine, trying to be quiet. He smiles against you, licking up and down. He enjoyed the taste, letting his finger tease your entrance as he focused on your clit with his tongue. You arch your back and press yourself against his face. He loves all of it. The way you already are breaking out into a sweat because of him.

“L’Leon..”

You grab his hair slightly, causing his pace to speed up. His fingers slowly dipping into you more. You can already feel your orgasm building up. His smirk is imprinted into your clit as he eats you out. You feel your legs spread farther, but Leon stops that very quickly. Leon’s fingers quicken alongside his tongue, your orgasm almost there.

“Leon please… im going to …. Please fuck fuck fuck..”

“Come on babygirl… let me taste it.”

That sends you over the edge, you can feel him moan into your pussy as you clench around his fingers. Your grip on his hair not helping. You try and catch your breath, Leon pulling his fingers out and his tongue laps up your cum.

“So good…. You did so good princess.”

You cover your face in embarrassment, which isn’t for long as Leon pulls your hands out of your face to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, him moaning into the kiss. You trail your hand down to feel his hard on. Which causes him to moan into the kiss more.

“Please Leon….. Fuck me.”

He smiles, petting your hair again. He nods, taking his sweats off leaving him in his boxers. You pull him into you, feeling his boner against your core. He takes you in for a kiss again, grinding into you fully this time. You’re shaking with anticipation again, moaning at the friction. Leon tugs at your underwear, slowly pulling them off for you.

He then motions you to sit up, helping you pull your bra off. His eyes latch onto your bare tits, admiring how perfect they were. You lay back again, watching as Leon pulls his boxers down. His dick springs free, precum leaking. He was huge. You internally panicked, and he picked up on that.

“It’s okay, we can go slow unless you want to stop.”

“No. it’s okay, it’s just my first time.”

His dick twitches at that, causing Leon to smile.

“Is it? I'm going to set a high expectation then.”

You blush, trying to look away. He grabs your face, kissing you as you feel his tip brush against your entrance. You grind into him, both of you moaning at the contact.

“If you keep doing that i will fuck the shit out of you baby.”

You apologize, which causes Leon to laugh.

“So cute.”

He sits up, pushing your thighs to your chest. He grabs his dick, gathering your slick onto his dick. He quietly groans at the sensation. He lines himself up and looks at you again.

“Ready?”

You shyly nod. He pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to him. You well up with tears, trying not to cry. You feel how much he stretches you, glad he prepped you beforehand.

“Shhh.. shhh. It’s okay. You can take it. Fuck you’re so tight”

Leon wipes your tears away, giving you gentle kisses as he pushes more and more into you.

“Doing so good for me baby…. Look at you. Take me so well, especially for your first time.”

He kisses your neck, almost bottoming out now. You feel yourself wince as he does, glad it finally was over. Leon kisses you again, trying to help ease you. It works, it really helps you relax, his hand running through your hair. You start to clench around Leon, feeling yourself at ease.

“Fuck….. So tight… I don't think I'll last..”

Leon sighs into your skin, slowly pulling out. The feeling making you whimper as he pulls almost all the way out before slowly pushing back in. This causes a low moan from Leon and a whimper from you.

“Oh my god.”

He bites your neck to prevent himself from moaning loudly as he repeatedly slowly pulls out and pushes in. Both of you in pure bliss as he does so.

“Are you doing okay princess?”

You nod, feeling yourself moan as he holds your thighs to your chest, starting to pick up his speed.

“God i’m trying so hard to be gentle but you feel so fucking amazing.”

“You can go faster I- i can take it.”

You grab at his back, then your other hand holding the nape of his neck as he picks up his speed.

“So fucking beautiful… look at you. This pussy is perfect.”

He leans down, sucking your nipple and pinching the other. The sound of his thrusts starts to get louder. Leon didn’t care, he was way too busy with how amazing you were to care about anyone else in the house. You can feel yourself tighten as he goes harder. He sits up, his hands digging into your thighs as he starts to go as fast as he can into you. You’re moaning as quietly as you can now but he’s practically hitting your cervix with how hard and fast he was going.

Leon’s face scrunches, enjoying the way you feel around him. You can feel your orgasm building up which causes you to whine. Leon whimpers as he feels you pulse around him.

“Baby i’m about to cum inside of you if you keep doing that.”

Your back arches.

“Please cum in me Leon please..”

You feel him speed up even more.

“Yeah? Going to fuck myself into you… fill this pussy up.. Make you mine. You are mine. After this. Going to cum inside my princess’s pussy real hard for her.”

You can feel how he’s about to, which sends you into your orgasm. Your head is thrown back into the pillow, feeling your walls pulse around him as he releases into your pussy. His pace is still the same, slowing down as he makes sure he cums every last drop into you. You catch your breath as Leon collapses on top of you. You hold onto his back, and the back of his head.

“Fuck Leon..”

He laughs into the skin of your neck, still inside of you.

“Was it good for your first time?”

“That was perfect.”

He kisses your neck, moving up to kiss your cheek. Petting your hair, he admires your face and smiles. Leon sits up, slowly pulling out of you. He watches as his cum slowly leaks out of you, a big smile on his face.

“Let me clean you up, pretty girl.”

He stands up, finding a towel from your laundry and helping clean you up. Leon then pulls his clothes on, searching for yours and helping you get dressed.

“Please don’t leave this time Leon.”

He smiles at you, admiring how pretty you truly are.

“I wasn’t even planning on it, babygirl.”

He lays down, pulling the covers over the both of you. Letting yourself fall asleep, you enjoy Leon's big arms cradling you as he cuddles into your neck.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #leon kennedy #resident evil smut

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lionar0und · 1 year

Text

Dada! - Leona fic

Leona has some conflicted feelings about his baby This is mostly my late night rambling

Warnings - Fem reader Kinda, mostly leona and cub centered, Small doses of traumatized Leona

Special thanks to @queen-shiba for all her help. Thanks Bestie!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Leona loves his sleep. It's a known fact that he almost loves sleep more than he loves his wife.

Almost. He certainly loves her enough for-

"Dada!"

There she is. Leona has...conflicted feelings about being a father. His wife wanted a cub, so they had a cub. He wanted to continue his legacy anyway...but Seven, he's struggling.

It was fine at first - mildly unnerving, but fine. You were struggling, and he hated it. But you wanted Melody so badly. He can't ignore the adrenaline rush he felt when he first felt his cub kicking; or the jolts of joy whenever he held you, arms around you and holding your belly.

But now that she's here?

She's beautiful. She's everything he never thought he could love that he would live for. He'd die for her to but dying is just sleep to him...and sleep is easy. It's numb and comfortable. But living? Waking from bliss to feed his tiny mewling cub as she wails, face red and tiny fists shaking is hard. Giving up some of his late nights out, facing the embarrassment of her sobbing at royal functions; all those judging eyes watching?

Yeah. That's rough.

Really rough.

Today's rough too - He only just got back from another Spelldrive practice, and now that hes a pro, his energy has to be up to play!

But duty calls.

"DADA!"

"Oi, don't shout at baba," He grumbles weakly, "It's late, nugget."

"I want hair." She huffs. For a second his heart stirs. She has your eyes.

"You have hair. See? It's right here." He tapped her head...and it started again. The instant panic because what if his nails are too sharp? What if he hurt her?

He represses the urge to throw up when remembering the feeling of his own parent's claws raking over his eye.

"No dada. Your hair. Pretty!"

"My hair? Baby, what-" He is cut off by a sharp tug on his hair.

Oh.

"You want locs?" It's more of a surprised gruff squeak than anything else. "You want your hair to look like mine?"

"Yes!" She squeals excitedly, hopping on the bed with him. "Hair like yours!"

Shit. Shit, he doesn't do his own hair! He's a prince, he has a stylist-

"Dada?"

Damn it...look at that sweet face. Funny, he didn't realize Melody had his grumpy face.

"Alright, come here grumpy cat." He quickly grabbed his phone. "Kifaji? Yeah...bring me all that hair stuff my stylist uses and my tablet stand."

===========================================

As Leona works diligently, he silently notes to raise his stylists salary.

Melody is squirmy after a while...but luckily his baby girl is just as nerdy as him. Nothing a chess tournament on TV can't fix. Besides, hes a good multitasker! He watches the how-to video on his Ipad while carefully doing his precious cub's hair and violently judging the shitty chess plays.

How many more clips does he need? This kid has a lot more hair than he thought...

"Almost done?"

"Almost baby." He grumbles, trying to pick up the clip he dropped.

Sevens, his hands are sore! Twisting Melody's hair lovingly yet firmly, he feels that familiar bubble of annoyance. Why can't the royal stylist just do this instead?

Stop it, Leona. He thinks bitterly. Be the dad you wanted. Suck up being tired! You overblotted and still played spelldrive after! This is for your cub!

But it's been over an hour. And he is so, so tired. And he has practice tomorrow.

And his baby girl wants to be just like him.

He tries to ignore the weird feeling in his throat he gets when those doubts creep in again.

Come on man. Just a bit longer.

====================================

Almost two hours later, he's done. He's oddly proud of himself. And his reward?

He gets to go deaf!

Melody is squealing in glee now, running around with her tiny mirror.

"I look just like dada!" The tired dad hears her screaming down the hall. It's making him feel oddly smug, too. He actually did it.

Finally, he can reap his rewards. Snuggled tightly into his bed and using your maternity pillow he stole , he can finally sleep.

"DADA I WANNA PLAY DOLLS!"

...but for his baby girl, maybe sleep can wait until tomorrow.

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #twst #twst leona #leona x reader #twst x reader #twst headcannons #twst leona x reader #leona twst #twisted wonderland leona

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rogueddie · 2 years

Text

Steve has always been confused when people describe family- the structure, what it means to them, any of it. His parents were always distant with him. The babysitters they hired weren't any better.

He's never really considered family important or significant. It's a meaningless word to him. He has his relatives and that's it. He doesn't have any family, not the way people describe it as anyway.

Well. He used to think like that. He thought like that for a while and, for most of that time, he was right. But it very quickly turned around.

It started with Dustin.

The kid was clearly in awe of Steve. Steve had seen it clear as day and found himself desperate to keep him safe. And he did- he worked hard to keep the brat alive, despite repeated efforts to undermine that. And Dustin is so fiercely loyal.

"You die, I die!" Dustin had yelled at him once.

Steve had stared at him, with a sudden cold realization; he loves Dustin. The kid is his family. A weird mix between a little brother and a son. And Dustin clearly felt just as strong for him.

He already knew how ready he was to die for Dustin. He knew now, without a doubt, that nothing would be able to stop him from keeping him safe.

But, he reasoned, one pseudo-kid is enough.

Then Lucas had turned to him one summer. He wanted to get into basketball and knew Steve used to play. It was supposed to be simple practices, some tips and things like that. Nothing special, just advice between friends. Because that's all they were, at the time.

Over the summer, with all the time spent together, they quickly because good friends. And, again, Steve kept telling himself that it's just that. Friends. He's already got a weird pseudo-kid with Dustin.

Watching the game, however, quickly shatters that illusion. As soon as Lucas had stepped onto the court, Steve thought; "thats my kid!"

And Steve thought having one kid was a blessing- a horrible, sarcastic, needy blessing but a blessing none-the-less. Having two is chaotic, but oddly comforting. They're both so different and fill spaces in his heart he hadn't known were empty. They're more family than Steve had ever thought he'd be allowed to have.

But Max had quickly stepping into the picture.

There was always something about her that made Steve feel even more protective. Their first real time spent together being that van, the demodogs, definitely didn't help. He doesn't think he'll ever forget hearing her scream. He doesn't think he's ever moved as fast as he had then.

Seeing Billy getting aggressive with Lucas had only heightened it all. He'd only known Max a few days when he realized that she would never be able to shake him now.

Even when Max tried to push him away, after Billys death, saying the cruelest things she could thing of to get him to back off, he hadn't. He'd simply started to call her parents instead, made sure they knew if they needed anything, if Max ever wanted to vent to him again, he's still there. He's still waiting.

Seeing her in a hospital dead, essentially dead just… it feels like someone has shoved their arm down his throat and pulled his lungs out. Like someone has taken something so vital...

The only comfort, the only person who seems to settle him, is Eddie Munson. But... Eddie isn't part of his little pseudo-family. He wants him to be. He doesn't. It's... confusing. Because he likes Eddie.

Eddie, who lets Steve hold his fingers to his wrist so he can feel his pulse. Eddie, who insists on being moved into a wheelchair so Steve isn't sat in Maxs room alone. Eddie, who doesn't let anyone make Steve go home even though he probably should. Eddie, who looks at Steve like he hasn't failed him or the kids.

One day, Steve asks. He has to, he has to know.

"You're a good dad to them," Eddie explains. He quickly holds up a hand when Steve tries to deny it. "You are. And you aren't the only one who forgets it. You need someone to look out for you too and, since Buckley is too busy hitting on your ex, you're stuck with me."

"I'm not stuck," is all Steve could think to say.

"Hm?"

Steve ducks his head, tries to pull back but Eddie just holds onto his hand tighter. "I'm not... I don't feel stuck. With you."

"Good."

Steve glanced up. Eddie rewarding him with a bright grin, lifting his hand up to kiss the back of it. Steve can feel his face heating up. He doesn't feel embarrassed though, hopes the little smirk means that Eddie is taking his blush as encouragement.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve and his children #ficlet #steddie fic #i had no idea how to end this #sorry?#foundfamily

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secondhand-snow · 7 months

Text

a body of impulses

chapter 2: feeling like unraveling

lukas matsson x f!roy! reader (succession)

★ chapter 1 ★ | ★chapter 3★

wc: 9.0k+

warnings: super dysfunctional family, fluff first then angst, roman roy as his own warning, season 3 finale as its own warning, mentions of manipulation, drinking, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (for real this time), dick pics, mention of phone sex, making out, dry humping/grinding, biting, pussyjobs, cum play/eating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), aftercare, no use of y/n

summary: Lukas is amazing. He's tender, he's deviant, he's everything for you. But you're still worried, your family has never seen a beautiful thing that they haven't wanted to break.

author's note: chapter 2 is here, thank you for all the love on chapter 1! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it ♡ be warned that this is heavy on the plot of episodes 3.08 and 3.09, so if you haven't watched the full show you may get a bit lost. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

You have a tendency to get anxious when things are good for too long. A few weeks without a family fight, a month without a scandal, half a year without Kendall relapsing; nice things usually end in flames in your family. They make you superstitious, always looking around the corner for something to jump out and fuck everything up. So, when Lukas is good, you get scared. You expect some kind of backhand. A threat of blackmail, a tweet exposing your promiscuity, a package of anthrax at your door.

It never comes.

He calls you every night, your timezone, not his. Listens to you talk about your day and doesn’t press when you can’t give him details on the company. He loves to send you pictures, just of him doing the most mundane things. Lukas on a Zoom meeting, Lukas working out, Lukas eating dinner. Together, you fall into something almost domestic. It’s still a secret. You don’t open his messages in public, stay far away from any conversations about him at work that could lead a blush to your face. But when has anything in your life been completely honest?

He’s been begging for a while now to fly you out to Sweden. You know it’s a risk you shouldn’t take at the moment, but you entertain him anyway. When you ask why he wants to see you so badly, he says he misses you. Then he says he wants to fuck you on his desk.

That almost convinces you, and you’re about to start packing when a roadblock emerges. Your dad asks you to come with him and your siblings to Italy, for Caroline’s wedding. You hadn’t been planning on going, she wasn’t your mom and you didn’t have much of a relationship with her. In fact, you actually thought she secretly hated you, something to do with how quickly Logan married your mom after their divorce. Regardless, you didn’t want to go to the wedding. But when Logan Roy calls, you come. Always.

So the bags were repacked and you found yourself on a different private jet with your siblings, once again at the mercy of your family.

“She’s probably in sexual thrall to him. He’s driving her wild with his sugar dick.” Siobhan spoke matter of factly, completely oblivious to how absurd her words sounded. Still, it wasn’t the strangest conversation of hers you’d walked in on. “So there’s nothing we can do.”

Roman was perched across the aisle from Tom and Shiv, sitting oddly in his seat, running his hand through his hair while he spoke. “All right, fine. Let him kill her for her emeralds and… screw us out of the fucking firm. See if I care.”

“Mommy issues?” You spoke up, setting your bag down on a free seat before moving to lean over the back of Shiv’s chair, kneeling on the seat behind it.

“Always. I didn’t know you were coming?” Rome turns to address you, eyebrows coming together in question.

“Dad drafted me. I think he just wants to terrorize Caroline with my presence.”

“I think you torment her enough by just existing. She doesn’t get to be the perfect mother of Logan Roy’s prodigal children.” Shiv pitched in, finally acknowledging your presence with a little smile.

“I don’t think I’m even invited to all the events. He’s just gonna have me working on the GoJo deal the whole time.”

“Oh! About the deal, I was talking to Karl and Frank-” Tom is addressing Roman more than you, but still gives you the courtesy of eye contact before your brother cuts him off.

“Yeah, no, you’re not really a part of that. Either of you, actually.” Rome nods his head to the couple, a smirk on his face charged by his current power trip.

“Well, I am.” Shiv interjects, annoyed.

“Well, I can’t fire you yet Shiv, because I’m still a little bit scared of you. But, my thinking is, when I take over, I’m gonna put you in the office next to mine and you’re gonna be my sexy secretary.” You just shake your head at Roman’s comment while he turns to head back to his seat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Siobhan is more irritated than really upset, going back to her phone as Roman leaves the conversation.

“I dunno. We’re working on it.” He taps the back on his legs in a rhythm before sitting down. “Ongoing process.”

You address Tom, seeing the confusion in his eyes that people tend to get when talking to your brother. “We’re just working on outlining terms. Honestly, Gerri would be better to ask for specifics. I don’t know how much Dad wants me to say.”

Tom just nods in thanks, which you return with a small smile before heading to your seat. You’re across the aisle from Roman, who’s already curled up and ready to nap on the flight. Taking out your phone, you see a new message from Lukas, covertly labeled in your phone with just an “L.” You turn the screen away from your company, making sure to not catch the reflection in the window as you open his text.

Stockholm is a 4 hour flight to Italy.

Is it? I’ll be in the air for at least 10 hours.

10 hours without talking to you?

I think you can manage it.

I don’t know about Italy. I can’t be held responsible for what I do when I’m in the same country as you.

It’s a risk.

Will there be a reward?

…I’ll text you when we land.

He sends a picture of himself doing a kissing face. You send a heart emoji in response, hiding your face with your hand to conceal your smile.

It turns out that you were invited to a few events of Lady Caroline’s wedding. Not the ceremony, of course, but at least you were allowed to attend the receptions leading up to it. You weren’t going to be cooped up in a hotel room all weekend, signing documents and having Facetime sex with your not-boyfriend. In fact, you ended up at one of these events just a little after your arrival, a garden party full of snobby aristocrats and expensive champagne. It’s too hot out for your liking, you're already sweating in your semi-formal sundress and downing your second glass of cold bubbly.

You end up with Shiv, partially blocked from the sun by the shadow of her hat, quietly snickering at her and Tom’s jokes about a clueless cousin Greg. It’s surprisingly calm for one of your family gatherings, no shouting or challenging or worse. The tranquility snaps like a twig with a ding on your phones.

“Uh- Matsson…” Shiv speaks first, the two of you pulling out your phones simultaneously, her angling her screen to share it with Tom. A message from Karolina leads you to Matsson’s twitter page, and his latest tweet. It’s a goofy gif of his face with a Snapchat filter on it, the text reading ‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.” You’re half excited, half alarmed. You don’t really know if you should believe it at first but, against your better judgment, you hope it’s true. Hope he’s just an hour or two from you, the closest he’s been in weeks.

“What? Going to Macao? Feeling lucky?” Tom squints against the sun to see the Tweet before pulling out his own phone. “The fuck is that?”

“You get this thing from Karolina? It’s off the radar and now this? Is this- is it a move?” Gerri’s entrance is quick, followed closely behind by Roman. You open your mouth and close it again, not sure if your words will betray your duplicity.

“It, um, it could be…could be nothing, you know? Fucking social media fireworks!” Roman’s hand is threaded through his hair, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the light.

“‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.’” Gerri repeats the four words, she’s as flabbergasted as everyone in this little Waystar circle. Business has once again interfered with pleasure. “Is he trying to boost his price?”

“Is he just rocking the boat?” Shiv’s voice is unsure, wavering from her usual monotone state. “Or trying to blow up the deal? I mean, has he got good subscriber numbers coming in?”

“Maybe he’s just going to Macao and he’s feeling lucky.” Tom chimes in as Rome steps away from the group, phone pressed to his ear in a call you can’t fully hear.

“I mean, yeah… It’s not out of his archetype to post something like this.” You shrug, not sure what to contribute that hasn’t already been said.

Roman finishes his call, turning back to you to speak. “I don’t know, it’s like, his thing. He’s a- a trickster.”

“Okay. Well, sounds cool. Is he gonna, like, steal our watches and fucking saw the deal in half?” Shiv’s getting upset, you know she likes control and she’s too far removed from this deal to do anything about Matsson’s stunts.

“Maybe!”

“You’re supposed to be inside this Rome!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Mattson’s not stupid, he wouldn’t deliberty fuck this deal and announce it to the world on Twitter.” You’re trying to reason with your siblings, though it’s not really working. Roman mostly ignores you, Siobhan rolls her eyes. Atleast Gerri and Tom look somewhat appreciative for your input.

“I am inside, Leave it.”

You’re done with the dialogue, done with being the peacemaker and getting stepped over by your narcissistic siblings. You throw your hands up, phone held in one and the other in a flat palm to signify your retreat before you walk away from the cluster. You hear Greg say something behind you but don’t bother to answer him, instead moving to find a quiet place far away from your siblings.

You end up in a corner somewhere, mostly blocked by trees and bushes, a little cubby hole you hoped was private enough to not be listened in on. Your fingers nimbly click through the apps on your phone, pausing briefly before pressing the call button on Lukas’s contact. It rings once, twice. Then, an answer.

“When are you coming over? Should I send you a helicopter?”

“Macao?” Your voice is higher than normal, laced in shock and thrill.

“Closer than we’ve been in weeks.” The smile is apparent in his voice, he’s pleased with himself, you hate it. And love it.

“You’re fucking insane. I didn’t think you were serious!”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll send my jet over.”

“Oh my God, I still cannot believe you. I can’t- my family is on high alert after your little rogue Tweet.” You laugh, not really mad at him, just eager and amazed.

“Oh come on, that was nothing.”

“It was a play to keep them on guard and you know it.”

“Well, partially. It’s for the numbers too. And for your attention.”

“It’s so hard to be away from you when you do shit like this…”

“Oh yeah? You miss me?” It’s a taunt, he knows the truth even if you deny it. So, you’re honest.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm… I miss you too. Keep thinking about what I’ll do when I see you again.”

“Lukas… I’m in public…” You can’t help but glance around, be sure you’re alone when he starts talking like this. His plan is already so clear to you.

“So you don’t want me to tell you about all the ways I’ll fuck you?”

“... Don’t do this to me now.”

“It’ll be just us in this house. I’ll take you wherever I want to. You can scream as loud as you want, don’t have to be worried about someone hearing.” His voice drops, there’s a small rustling on the phone. His words shoot straight to your core, a sensation beginning to form there.

“I’m at a fucking wedding party and you’re getting me turned on. You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You pause a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before responding.

“I’ll call you tonight. Please be careful.”

He chuckles.“I will.”

When you hang up, your text thread with Lukas is immediately graced with a photo of his dick, hard and gripped tightly in his fist. It makes you inhale sharply, curse under your breath at the growing need between your thighs. You text him back, simply writing “Fuck you.” before clicking your phone off. It takes you a few minutes of breathing exercises, but you’re able to calm your desire and soothe the blush in your cheeks before returning to the party.

Nobody asks where you went, nobody even really cared that you were gone. You can blame it on Connor’s show of making a proposal, or Matsson’s antics occupying everyone’s minds, but this is how it always is with you. The good child. The innocent daughter. Forever right where she needs to be, never in anyone’s way, constantly willing to help. You disappear when you aren’t wanted, you emerge only when you’re useful. The perfect loyalist, somehow being turned to a deserter.

Lukas leaves Monaco before you can sneak away to see him. You know it’s for the better, but it’s still a disappointment. You resign to finish the family trip and visit Sweden as soon as you get home to New York, going along with the planned events, a false smile plastered on your face. It’s during Caroline’s bachelorette in Cortona when your plans change. You were nursing a glass of wine, silencing your discontent at the rooftop bar when Gerri approached you.

She dragged you around to speak with Roman, revealing that your Dad had once again put you on babysitting duty. Logan wanted Rome to go talk to Mattson at his house in Switzerland, and wanted you to keep him in line. He couldn’t trust Roman to not fuck the deal, but he didn’t want you to speak to Mattson alone. So, you were recruited to accompany Rome. Speak just enough to stop him from saying something stupid, but not enough to draw attention. It was a game you were good at, one you had been practicing since youth. You were loyal to a fault, and Logan always used it to his advantage.

Lukas is ecstatic when you tell him you’re coming. Less so when he learns Roman is accompanying you, but still thrilled. You ask him for discretion, first nicely and then sternly. You can’t afford to make your relationship, whatever it is, public. He knows this too, knows what your family would do if they found out, but can’t help teasing. It’s only a day after Logan’s request that you board a helicopter, headed to Lake Maggiore. Headed to Lukas.

Roman is oddly quiet on the flight, constantly on his phone or looking out the window, eyes blank. You know him well enough to see the anxiety clouding his mind, feel the nervous energy radiating off his body. You reach over to him and hold his hand. He looks annoyed. He doesn’t drop it. You squeeze his fingers gently, he returns the motion, lets you quietly comfort him until you land.

Lake Maggiore is beautiful, surrounded by the Alps and lush vegetation, villas and lake homes dotting the shores of the water. You move straight from the helicopter to a boat, which immediately takes off at high speeds, skating over the surface of the lake. The wind fucks up your hair, blows up the skirt of your sundress, almost makes you loose your sunglasses. When you finally dock, you quickly pull out your phone, using it as a mirror to fix your smudged makeup and windswept hair before your host arrives. Roman gives you a weird look, silently judging you for putting effort into your appearance. As if he doesn’t spend hours in front of the mirror every morning styling his hair to look perfectly imperfect.

When Lukas’s frame finally emerges from the hedges of his property, you have to bite your lower lip to hide your smile. He’s so himself, wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, not bothering with real shoes, just a pair of casual slip-ons. It almost hurts to see him and not be able to immediately kiss him. Jesus, your inner monologue sounds like something from a cheesy rom-com. You feel so love-struck, it makes you crinkle your nose in embarrassment.

The boat is tied up to the dock now, Roman perched on the side trying to make it onto solid land. The waves rock the vehicle back and forth, knocking him off balance and ruining his attempt at disembarking.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Lukas has one hand in his pocket, the other reached out to Rome, close enough for him to grab. If he wanted to. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand.”

“Piss off.” Roman swats his hand away, finally moving off the boat with a small jump. You move, taking his place on the edge of the boat. It’s a bit unsteady, but you manage getting on to the dock in just a few seconds. You shoot a smug smile at Roman before following the two of them up some steps, away from the water and onto Lukas’s yard.

“It’s nice to see you again, man.” Roman speaks first, breaking the silence that had fallen over you three.

“Yeah, yeah. Long time.” Lukas has his usual posture, slightly hunched and lanky, with his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

“This is an amazing place!” Rome looks around, you continue to follow him and Lukas through the lawn, letting them lead you as you observe.

“Yeah...”

“No?”

“I don’t know, it kind of freaks me out, to be honest.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“When I got it, I wanted everything to be perfect.” You climb a few steps, the group arriving at an outdoor pool area, lined with shrubs and facing the lake. “Now I’m sleeping on a camping mat until I get a deep dive on the best mattress in the world. It’s great- it’s great. I’m just not feeling great. I mean… I’m fine… Well, but, not really.”

You frown at his words. You want to reach out, hold his hand, touch his back, do something to comfort him. But it would be too obvious, too impulsive. Instead you nod sympathetically, catching his gaze for a moment.

“Maybe let’s leave the little feeley-feelings out of it. Cause I’m gonna give you nothing. Nothing!” Roman’s half joking. He hates emotions, tries to diffuse bad ones with humor, even if it feels inappropriate.

“Roman.” Your tone is a warning, pushing your sunglasses back on your head to give him a glare before turning to Lukas. “I get it. You want the best, but you don’t realize how boring perfection is when you always have it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Success.. It doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s too easy. It’s fucking… anyone can do it. Analysis plus capital plus execution. But failure… that’s a secret.” Lukas is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world when he speaks. Sometimes he thinks you can see into his soul, you somehow know him better than anyone. He takes his sunglasses off, using the collar of his shirt to hold them. His blue eyes look directly into yours.“What are you worst at?”

“Well… I… am never telling you any of my weaknesses. Ever. Never, ever, ever.” Roman breaks into the conversation again, disrupts the eye contact between you two. “And I won’t let her tell you any either. Stuff a sock in her mouth, a ball gag or something.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know, I am smart.”

“Cause I ream people. Juice em like oranges. I get way too into people, and they disappoint me.” He looks at Roman when he says that, but you can’t help but take his words as a warning. Things moved fast between you and Lukas, you’ve barely known him for a few weeks and were already opening your heart to him. Letting him into your mind, letting him rearrange the furniture there like he owns it. “Hey, I’m thinking of doing like a- quarterly up and outs at the company.”

“Oh, yeah. Firing people is like, 85% of why I get up in the morning.” Roman shrugs when he talks, moving to take his sunglasses off and hold them in his hand. “But, uh.. I do want to ask you about that tweet, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh the…” Lukas laughs, looks at you, back to Roman. He makes a face, sticking out his tongue to mimic the Snapchat filter on his tweet. “That one.”

“Yeah. Seriously, yes. You got like, big shit coming your way?” Rome uses his free hand to run his fingers through his hair.

“...Are you- are you asking me for material nonpublic information?” Lukas’s grin is lopsided, he’s testing the two of you, seeing how far you’re really going to go.

“Maybe. Were you trying to get your share price up by tweeting unverifiable information outside of normal disclosure channels?” You cut in, raising your eyebrows at him, tilting your head in a way a little too close to flirting. Roman smiles at that, watches you exercise your knowledge like a proud father.

Lukas’s voice is mocking, a fake sad cartoon tone coming over it. “No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He moves his hands to his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears. “So mean.”

“Do you want this deal? Are you into it… like, at all?” Roman asks next. You’ve moved a bit from your area at the pool, following Matsson as he slowly circles the water.

“Yeah, I am. I’m just a little Swedish, you know? I’m.. into equality.” He moves nonchalantly, like this deal isn’t as serious as it is. “I like getting into bed with people, but I also like to share it equally.”

“More of a merge than a takeover.” It isn’t a question, and it isn’t directed at Lukas. You turn to Roman as you say it, verbalizing what you both were thinking. Lukas just hums, doesn’t articulate a response. Even though you all know what it would be.

“Okay. We’re just… heading to Milan to lock things down with our Dad and the bankers. And the tweet- it just didn’t feel great. If you’re hoping to blow this whole thing up, just tell me, okay?” Roman’s anxiety is back, you can see it in the tense way he’s started to move, in the higher tone of his voice.

“I just want to get myself the best. Of everything.” Lukas looks at you when he says it, darts his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Roman’s too lost in his own head to notice it, or notice the way your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I fucking get that. Definlety.” Roman moves to pull out his phone, cursing under his breath when he reads a notification. “I uh- have to take a call really quickly. I’ll be in the boat, it shouldn’t take too long. Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll give her a tour.” Lukas shrugs, sounding indifferent. Rome nods at him, then you, and quickly takes off towards the dock, already lifting the phone up to his ear as he walks.

You watch him leave, round the corner and leave your line of vision before turning to Lukas, face neutral save for a hint of a smile. He’s less composed than you, smiling broadly and staring into your eyes. He walks closer to you, wraps his arm around the small of your back.

“Wanna show me around?” You raise your eyebrows in question, slightly rocking back and forth on your feet. He sighs quietly, nods, and moves to extend an arm for you to hold.

“There’s really not much to see. Your average rich person house.” You hold his arm, walking with him into the villa as he speaks.

The interior is nice. Well, you’re sure it cost several million dollars to furnish, but that was the standard you were used to. It’s Italian inspired with a few modern elements. You take note of the high end appliances everywhere you go. A thousand dollar air purifier, a ten thousand dollar toilet, a hundred thousand dollar refrigerator. Lukas really did want the best for himself. The downstairs looks strangely perfect, like there wasn’t really anyone living there. Everything is clean and immaculate, no traces of human life. This trend continues into the upstairs, only stopping when he shows you the primary bedroom. His bedroom.

It’s simply decorated, a bed, desk, dresser. A large TV mounted on the wall across from his bed, nightstands, some artwork on the walls. There are a few large windows on the farthest side of the room, offering a view to the lake. Most things are black, or gray, with a few navy blue accents here and there. You had slipped off your shoes when walking around the house, now you let the fall to the floor from dangling on your finger. Stepping into the room, you walk until you round the bed, seeing a camping sleep matt rolled up and leaning on a wall. The sight brings a little smile to your face before you turn to Lukas’s desk, fingers grazing softly against the wood of it.

He has a Macbook laying on it, a pair of over-ear headphones sitting next to it. There’s a cup with a few pencils and pens, a box of tissues. It’s not much, but it’s something. Above his desk sit a few wall mounted bookshelves, made of the same wood. The books on them are mostly motivational, shit that he definitely hasn’t read. One thing does catch your eye though, an older coding textbook written in Swedish. It looks worn, the spine cracked and the pages wrinkled. Your fingers move to trace along the row of books, following them until the shelf ends and you meet the wall behind it.

“I like it. Very you.” You move your gaze back to Lukas, who’s been leaning in the doorway, watching you explore.

“Very me?”

“It’s exactly what I pictured.” You walk up to him as he steps inside, right at the foot of the bed, just a few inches apart. “Have you really been sleeping on a mat on the floor?”

“Yeah…” You wrap your hands around the back of his neck as his sentence trails off and he moves to grab your hips, closing the distance between you.

“Lukas, just sleep on the mattress. Your back is gonna get all fucked up.”

“Probably. I just- I don’t trust it. I want something I know is good, you know?” His reasoning makes you roll your eyes.

“It’s better than a camping mat.”

“Hey- that’s the best camping mat money can buy.”

Your hand moves to cup his face, bringing him to you and planting a light kiss on his mouth. He tries to deepen it, follows your face when you pull away, looks like a sad puppy when you deny him.

“So you haven’t used the mattress at all…?” You smirk, quirking your eyebrows teasingly.

“Not yet…” Lukas grins, his eyes traveling from yours to your lips. “Why? Do you wanna help me break it in?”

You don’t answer, just smile, roll your eyes playfully, and move away from him. You turn so your back is facing the bed, and with all the drama you can muster, flop down onto the mattress. It cushions your fall nicely, though you do get left a bit breathless and giggly. Your knees dangle off the side of the bed, feet almost grazing the ground as you kick your legs.

“It’s really not bad.” You don’t bother raising your head, just direct your words to him knowing he’ll hear. “Not the best, but definitely ‘trustworthy.’” Laughing when he sighs in response, you throw your arms up and stretch theatrically.

You feel a hand on your knee, spreading your thighs wider apart. He slots himself between your legs, moves his hand to your waist, and pulls you quickly to him. The bed is high enough that your hips meet each other roughly, a gasp escaping your mouth at the sudden pressure on your vulva. Lukas is already half hard, and making the most subtle movements to grind you perfectly against his cock.

“Lukas… Roman is just outside…” You’re already a bit breathless, still allowing him to rub against you as you speak. He leans close to you, tall frame bending at the waist to brush his lips against your ear, still keeping his hips flush to your as he moves.

“I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” He places a kiss to your jawline, starting a messy trail down your neck. Lukas pauses to nip the slope of your shoulder. “And you’ll have to be quiet.”

He lifts his head, eyes staring straight into yours, and waits for your response. Your lips are already parted, breath coming quick and cheeks flushed with desire. The lust clouds your judgment, as it always seems to do with Lukas. Impulse takes over and, with a hand threaded into his hair, you pull his mouth to yours roughly.

It’s rushed and powerful. All teeth and tongue, no time for being gentle, no time for romantics. You bite his lip, he groans into your open mouth. Your legs move around his hips, keeping his body close as he ruts against your clothed core. His movements started soft and teasing, but now he’s fully thrusting against you, rough and wanting. It feels hard and hot, has your eyes shutting and your mouth whimpering. You love being close to him like this, hearing his panting in your ear, his lips on your throat, his chest pressed to yours. But it’s not quite enough.

“Fuck Lukas, I need more.” He pulls his head from his attack on your throat, looks at you with a grin on his face.

“You need more?” You nod, a little frantically with a small hum. “Look at you, asking for things. Tell me what you want.”

You’re a bit hesitant, cheeks still red from the vulgarity of your situation. Your mouth opens and then closes again, biting your lower lip as you try to find the right words. His hand comes to your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your eye contact with him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I just want to feel you- really feel you.” Honestly, you don’t know exactly what you want. You’re so needy, you can feel how uncomfortably wet you’ve gotten and just need some kind of satisfaction. “You can fuck me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, not yet. I have plans for that, it’ll be special.” His words are a little shocking, but turn you on even more.

“Please Lukas. I need you.” Your voice is barely a whisper, laced with want. The motion of his hips has stopped and you feel yourself desperately grind yourself against him for some relief. His hands move to your hips to hold you in place, releasing the grip on your chin.

“I’m not taking your virginity in a quickie where I can’t even get you naked. And you need to be able to walk after this.” He moves and pushes your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. “Here you’ll like this.”

Your panties are soaked. His gaze moves down and he notices, gives a small chuckle, runs a finger up your clothed slit. It makes you shudder and whine deeply in your throat as a response. Hooking a finger around both sides of your panties, he pulls the fabric off with one quick motion, dropping them to the floor when he’s finished. He moves from between your thighs briefly, causing you to instinctively shut your legs. Lukas pulls down his pants then, just enough to expose his cock, hard and leaking already.

He moves back, uses a hand to gently spread your legs as the other grips the base of his cock. He’s so close, his dick hovering just above your cunt. Your eyes go wide with anticipation, a light gasp escapes from your lips. Then, Lukas moves. His hips angle downwards and, using his hand to guide his cock, he gently rubs his length over your slit. The feeling is immediately intense. It’s wet and strong and burning, and when his tip touches your clit you swear your vision goes white. You really can’t help the moan that escapes you, it’s Lukas that caused it.

“Shhh… I know, I know. But you don’t want someone to hear.” He leans over you, presses a light kiss to your mouth and grabs one of your hands. Moving your hand over your mouth, he helps you press your palm to your lips, muffling the noises coming from your lips. You nod in response, keeping your hand there when he moves his away, gripping back on to your hips to hold you in place. “Don’t want everyone to know how I’m corrupting you.”

Another moan leaves your mouth at that, luckily much quieter due to your palm. Your free hand flys down, grips over his on your hip. He keeps moving, parting your lips and spreading wetness across your pussy, hitting your clit perfectly with each thrust. A curse leaves his throat when your back begins to arch, the white hot feeling in your cunt growing fast. You can almost feel the restraint leaving his body, feel the roll of his hips getting heavier, harsher. A tear rolls down your cheek, your eyes wet with the sheer strength of this new pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, so quiet for me.” Lukas’s accent is thicker now, his head tipping back in pleasure as he ruts against you with abandon, chasing his climax. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

That’s all it really takes for you to fall apart, cumming on his cock. Your orgasm hits in a wave, making your thighs shake and eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You’re incredibly glad for the hand on your mouth as it muffles the high moan that leaves your lips. You don’t see him with your eyes shut, but the groans you hear let you know that Lukas is not far behind you. A few mascara stained tears run from your eyes when you open them again, your gaze being met with Lukas’s head tilted toward the ceiling, his mouth open in pleasure.

His cock moves from your cunt, positioning over your lower stomach. His hand moves, jerking himself roughly as he looks down to meet your eyes. Your hand moves from your mouth, and you sit up a bit as you reach for him, fingers coming to rest on his hip to keep him close to you. Another low curse falls from his mouth, and with a gravely groan he cums. White ropes shoot across your stomach, resting on your skin warmly. You whimper in sympathy, watching as he twitches and bucks against his hand recklessly.

Lukas’s chest rises and falls quickly, breath coming fast and deep as his orgasm washes over him. When his eyes reopen, he’s quick to pull you up to meet his mouth with a burning kiss. The kiss isn’t long, but when you pull away he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut and breathing slowly returning to normal. You stay that way for a while, just close and quiet. A few moments pass, and when he moves to stand back up you take the time to dart your hand down and gather up some of the cum on your pelvis, licking it off your finger as you raise it to your mouth.

He quietly laughs, blissed out and smiley. “You love that, don’t you?”

“Mhm. I don’t know- ‘just makes me feel close to you.” He kisses you again, softly this time, almost proud.

“I’m making a monster. First you ask me to fuck you and now you’re swallowing my cum.” He moves to his dresser, retrieving a hand towel as you sit on the bed, careful to not let any of his spend drip onto the sheets.

“Why didn’t you fuck me?” Your head tilts as you ask. He moves to kneel in front of you, gently wiping the cum from your skin as he answers.

“I told you, I’m gonna make it special for your first time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even let you be my first time, now that you’ve rejected me.” It’s playful and he knows it, grinning up at you as he moves to wipe the wetness from the inside of your thighs.

“It wasn’t a rejection, it was a postponing.” Lukas stands, quickly cleaning off before tucking himself away and turning to look for your panties. “And who else would it be? Are you cheating on me?”

“No, but I can’t cheat on you if weren’t not together.” He pauses at that, head cocking as he makes eye contact with you.

“We aren’t together?”

“You haven’t asked me!”

“I thought it was self-evident. You don’t need to ask if it’s already obvious.” Lukas stoops to grab your panties from the floor, moving to hand them to you.

You accept the fabric in an outstretched hand, setting it on the bed next to you. “Well, I would like you to ask. Make it official.”

He gives a dramatic sigh, reaches out and grabs your hands to pull you to standing. Lukas holds your hands, smiles and looks into your eyes. “Will you date me?”

You think about teasing him, making him wait, but your excitement gets the best of you and you release your answer quickly. “Yes, I will date you, Lukas Matsson.”

Your kiss is domestic and cheesy, after you separate he pulls you back into his body, rests his chin on your head for a while while he holds you close. You end up leaving your panties with him, they're still too wet to wear comfortably. Lukas helps you fix your makeup and hair, and you check to make sure your lip gloss isn’t all over his mouth (it was). He fastens your shoes back on for you, kneeling in front of you so you don’t have to bend over with your still shaky legs. He holds your hand until you reach outside and you put some space between yourselves as you enter public once more.

Roman is just finishing his call when you get back to the boat, waving at you as he quickly hangs up. You give Lukas a handshake, Rome just shouts his goodbye from a distance, and you quickly speed off again across the lake as soon as you enter the boat. Once again separated, you swear you immediately feel heavier without Lukas’s presence.

Your brother thinks the deal is fucked, he makes that clear when you’re alone again. He half blames you, half blames himself. Either way, he’s scared shitless to tell your dad about Matsson’s merge idea. So it’s a major shock when you arrive in Milan and Logan is receptive to the proposal. He praises Roman openly for once, and even commends you on your role in negotiating the deal.

But good things don’t tend to stay good for long in your family. You know something’s wrong when Logan calls you and Shiv into his office abruptly, right before your meeting with the bankers is supposed to begin. It honestly doesn’t surprise you as much as some would think to learn Roman had been sexting Gerri. You try to defend him against Shiv’s attacks, but it doesn’t do much good, not when the evidence is sitting in front of you. At the very least, you make some kind of progress covering for Gerri, reminding your dad of her loyalty.

Things are weird and fucked the next day. The night before Comfrey had texted you to let you know that Kendall was in the hospital. She wouldn’t say what happened, just that they were keeping him overnight and he was okay. You texted your siblings but everyone was skirting around the answer with you. They knew you cared about Kendall, maybe too much, and that telling you he had nearly drowned (possibly by his own doing) would set you off like a firework.

You wanted to go visit Kendall the next day, or be there when he arrived at the villa, or just do something to help him out. But he didn’t answer your calls and all the information you were given was extremely vague. You weren’t invited to Caroline’s wedding ceremony, so you planned on staying in bed and Facetiming with Lukas all day, waiting for a response from your brother. Your day starts off that way, sleeping in and chatting with your boyfriend into the late morning, but then Lukas tells you about Gojo’s market cap. You knew he was good, you knew he was doing all he could to get the market in Gojo’s favor, but you never expected it’s worth would surpass Waystar’s.

It’s no surprise that your dad ends up calling you, recruiting you to join him on a trip to Matsson’s. When he tells you he’s considering not inviting Roman, you manage to convince him to bring him too, citing his friendship with Matsson as a cause. So you head to Lake Maggiore, again, and arrive at Lukas Matsson’s villa, again. The excitement you feel when seeing him is shrouded in the anxiety of the sudden meeting.

You feel like every glance between the two of you is obvious. The way he parts his lips, the way your eyes drift across his frame, it’s all unmistakable of two lovers.

Lukas leads the three of you to an outdoor area on his grounds and when the conversation starts, his intent is clear. He didn’t tell you he wanted to buy Waystar, well he may have hinted at it, but it still feels like a bit of a betrayal. Like a shock. Even worse of a shock, Logan doesn’t immediately hate it, not in his usual way.

“Yeah. This is not happening.” The rage isn’t there behind Logan’s words. His gaze drifts to Roman, then back to Matsson. Lukas raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, I see that. Understood. But, you want to stick around? See if the old deal still has shape? Side snacks?” Logan smiles, he actually smiles, at Matsson’s offer. “You have that Israeli AI operation I might like. Maybe an asset swap sort of thing?”

“Why not.” The eye contact between Lukas and your dad is never ending. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. “Rome, you should head back. For your mom, and everything.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Roman looks to you, motions with his thumb in the general direction of the dock. “Do you wanna…?”

“I’m not going to the wedding. Not invited.” You offer a small smile, look to Logan for reassurance.

“We’ll catch up with you later, Romulus.”

Roman is dejected. An intruder, again. An outsider in the deal he’s worked so hard on, the deal he partially started. “Alright. Hate to miss the big nuptials! So… yeah. I’ll just go do that then…” He’s hesitant to go, pats you on the leg as he leaves, Dad on the shoulder.

They wait to start speaking again until well after he’s left, and when they do it’s straight to business. Your dad wants to sell. Lukas wants to buy. You’re the reluctant bridge between. Things move inside, to a formal dining room, and the real discussion begins. Numbers start to fly, calls get made, lawyers begin flying out. You end up doing more work than you meant to, arguing for both GoJo and Waystar. Trying desperately to keep all the men in your life happy. At the same time, you’re conflicted. You know your siblings will hate this deal, you know how badly they want to inherit the company, how hard they’ve worked for one of them to eventually be CEO.

But the thing is, you don’t hate the deal. You were never going to lead Waystar, never going to be more than the founder’s child. You’re the youngest Roy sibling, a woman, and from a different marriage than the others. There was no chance of you ever being number one, and you knew that from the day you were born. So why not sell the company? You don’t want to dedicate your entire life to this soul crushing work. At the same time, you care so much for your family, more than you do for yourself. This would wreck your siblings, they wanted Waystar more than they wanted life itself. Even if being family owned fucks you, it means the world to them.

When you finally leave Lukas’s, it’s well past the wedding ceremony, and it’s clear Dad doesn’t intend on joining the afterparty. The operation moves to Logan’s villa. The cavalry marches in, dressed in designer suits and holding briefcases stuffed with Macbooks. There’s dozens of people you’ve never even met swarming around a huge table. It doesn’t even feel real, like you’re watching a dream, or a nightmare, play out in front of you. You retire to your dads private office, curl up on a leather upholstered couch and just think. You know you should tell your siblings. Siobhan and Roman have been blowing up your phone for hours, you haven’t had the heart to answer. Your dad would kill you if you reached out. Ostracize you like Roman, or disown you like Kendall. Your brain feels like a whirlpool, your thoughts flying around enough to give you a headache. You turn to the only person you can think of.

“Hi.”

“...”

“Are you okay?” Lukas’s voice is genuinely worried, silence isn’t normal in the conversations between you two. You hear a rustling on the other line like he’s stood up.

“I don’t really know. I wish you were here.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I feel like a traitor.”

“Why?”

“My siblings… you know they will hate this deal.” You stress the word hate, voice a little bit breathless with anxiety.

“I do.” His voice is quiet, almost whispering as he speaks to you.

“They would rather die than sell Waystar. But I-” You sigh, swallow thickly. “I almost agree with Dad. I think this is a good move for us. Not just because I’m fucking the guy who’s buying the company.”

“Well then, why do you agree?”

“If we don’t sell, we’re gonna get swallowed whole. All we have is the content, not the platform to back it up, not new technology to keep us relevant.”

“That’s all true.” Lukas’s voice gets a little louder, his sentences trailing off a bit as he prompts you to keep talking.

“But even if we had that, even if we were doing better, we were more stable…”

“You still would want to sell?” He already knows what’s on your mind. Of course he does.

“I think so… I mean, I will never be CEO. Not if we’re family owned, not if we’re owned by GoJo, never. And I don’t want to spend my life in this company, especially if I’m not running it.” Your head tips back against the wall you’re leaning on. You’re hiding away in a bathroom, your voice echoing a bit as it bounces off the marble walls. “This work… it fucking destroys people.”

“It sounds like you already know what you think.”

“But Shiv and Roman and Kendall… They want the company so badly. They’ve been prepped to run it since they were kids. Even if they kill each other for CEO, at least one of them would get what they wanted.” You’re louder now, voice still stressed but frustration peaking through.

“You need to stop wasting your life making other people happy. You would do anything for your family, and they wouldn’t do shit for you.” Lukas’s tone isn’t angry or yelling, it’s stating a fact.

“That’s not true-”

“Is it? I see you go above and beyond for them every single day, and they never spare you a second glance.” Lukas’s voice is almost pleading when he speaks next. “Think about yourself, for once. Please.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes are brimmed with tears, your fingers coming up to brush them away quickly. “I will.”

There’s a small pause before he talks again. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you about buying Waystar?” You laugh, breathlessly, at the simpleness of his question after all you’ve just talked about.

“No, I’m not mad. I was shocked…but I think it’s worn off. You’re just doing what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“I think you’re really smart actually. If I was in your position I’d do the same thing.” You move from your stance against the wall to look in the mirror, checking to fix any smudged mascara.

“That’s what I thought. I asked myself what you would do.”

“No, you did not.”

“No, I did not. I did think about how it would affect you though.”

“Thank you for that.” It’s half sarcastic, but you know he really does care for you.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll talk to you later today.”

“Okay. Come visit soon.” Lukas ends like he always does, asking for your presence.

“I’ll try.”

It takes you a minute to compose yourself. Fix your hair, wipe off some of your fucked up concealer, blow your nose. You exit the bathroom, walk down the hall and down some stairs, finally arriving in front of the massive wooden doors leading to your dad’s office. Your brain is finally quieter now, thoughts forming clearer and headache fading quickly. You slip a small smile to the bodyguard, Colin, who opens the door for you to enter.

Your three siblings are there, backs facing the door as they stare down Logan, who’s just moved to press a button on the phone resting against his desk. Their heads snap to you. The door shuts behind you. Siobhan opens her mouth, but you speak before she does.

“What’s going on? When did you get here?”

“What’s going on? You know what’s going on, Dad is selling and fucking our entire lives up.” Shiv faces you, her eyes are daggers and her body is a rocket about to explode. “And you didn’t tell us.”

“No, he’s not fucking your lives up. It’s not the end of the world, Shiv.” You approach them, eyes wide and pleading.

“So you do know. You knew he was selling the company and you didn’t think ‘Hmm maybe I should tell my siblings this, you know, since they’ve spent their entire lives thinking they were going to run Waystar!’” Roman throws his hands up, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are watering.

“Do you think it would’ve made a difference?” Your voice drops, both in tone and volume. “Do you really think I have any sort of control? Any say in what happens?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, Kendall won’t make eye contact with you. Logan is watching you intently before gazing at his other children’s faces.

“I have never, and will never, be number one. I will never have control over the company, I will never even have control over one branch of the company. I will never be CEO, I won’t even make it to CFO, because I will always be lower than you. And I will always be there for you to yell at and use and manipulate. You already fucking do!” You’re more angry than sad now, maybe it’s misdirected, but you’re too wound up to care. “For once in my life, I’m thinking about myself. And I will not let this shit, this work, destroy me like it has destroyed you.”

A few tears spill from your eyes, you don’t bother to wipe them up, just continue your eye contact with your siblings. You’re right and everyone knows it, from Gerri and Karl sitting on the couch to Logan in front of you. Shiv can’t hold your gaze anymore, she drops her eyes to the ground. Roman turns to your Dad, his eyes are wide and desperate.

“Please?” His voice is meek, barely a whisper.

“‘Please?’ You bust in here with guns, but now that you find they’ve turned to fucking sausages, you want to say ‘please?’” Logan moves from where he was half-sitting on the arm of a couch to stand in front of your siblings. “You should have trusted me.”

“Dad, why?”

“Oh you need me to tell you why? Like your sister didn’t already? But your too fucking ashamed to admit she’s right.” He begins walking to the door, past your siblings, pausing at you to put a hand on your shoulder. “Because it works. I fucking win. Now go on, go on, fuck off you nosey fucking pedestrians.”

The doors open, Logan is immediately tasked with papers to sign and business to attend to. Roman moves to Jerri, asks her something you don’t quite hear from the blood rushing in your ears, before moving back to the crowd of your siblings. Roman crumples to the floor, Kendall with his hands on his shoulders, Shiv next to them. You turn to see Tom entering, him offering you a weak smile as he passes.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Kendall.” Your voice is monotone. Ken looks up at you, opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. Tom starts speaking to Shiv, but you don’t hear what he says, already turning to walk out the doors, to head back to your hotel suite, to head away from your family.

You stay on the phone with Lukas the rest of that night. You can’t sleep but you don’t want to be awake. He eases the pain. He says he’s proud of you. He cares more than anyone you’ve known.

When you finally fall asleep in the early morning hours, you dream of space. You’re a cosmonaut, dancing on Saturn’s rings, playing baseball with meteors. The darkness is liminal, and pure, and calm. And the constellations are breathing around you, lighting your lawless orbit. You break the trail of a comet, its fire dotting the sky like a stitch on black cloth. Venus is a stray dog, following you wherever you lead it, spinning for attention and praise. Stars flicker like faces, you can’t recognize who they are anymore.

When you touch the Earth, everything sings.

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #succession #succession fanfic #alexander skarsgard #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x you #lukas matsson x oc #lukas matsson x ofc #lukas matsson smut #lukas matsson fic #lukas matsson fanfic #lukas matsson imagine #snow’s fics #a body of impulses #smut

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southerngothicchic · 9 months

Text

Gator, honey

18+

Thinking about already lovesick Gator being made worse by getting to finally have sex with you, the girl he's been obsessed with ever since you showed up in town.

After months of hitting on you, he couldn't believe it when you actually agreed to go on a date with him. It would be the first of several, as you found him oddly endearing. His false bravado faded over time and you saw glimpses of the sweet boy underneath. He was still guarded, until you had him in your bed.

You pressed his back against the sheets, climbing onto his lap and watching his eyes widen with your movements. You lowered yourself onto him while his rough hands gripped your hips. He moaned your name as you felt him throbbing inside you.

"You feel so good, Gator honey," you sighed as you slowly moved your hips.

"Fuck, baby..." he breathed, his hands squeezing your hips.

"Just lay back and let me make you feel good, handsome," you said, bracing your hands on his chest and then leaning back to take him even deeper.

Gator's been replaying that night over and over in his head. He had never been with anyone like you, and he needed more.

A few days passed without him getting to see you, as his dad required his help for things he refused to talk about. He couldn't go one more day without you, as texts and phone calls weren't enough.

His overwhelming need for you made him drive to your house, one afternoon, hoping to surprise you. Though, once he arrived he realized you were still at work. He frowned, thinking if he had his way, you'd never work again, as you'd always be home whenever he wanted to see you.

He was about to leave when thoughts of the night you spent together reentered his mind. He wanted to feel the softness of your sheets on his skin, to feel them tangled around him again, creating the illusion of having you there. The temptation of your bed was too much as he walked around to the back of your house, hoping to find a way to get inside.

He stalked up to your back porch and went to pull on the sliding glass door. When it opened, he had a little celebratory moment, before creeping inside. He made a mental note to scold you for leaving the door unlocked, while he quietly slid it closed. Right now, he was thankful for your forgetfulness as he moved through the house. He walked down the short hallway to your bedroom, his anticipation building.

After he entered the room, he stood next to the bed, admiring how it was so neatly made. He then began undressing, not wanting anything to be between him and your sheets.

He pulled back your comforter, sending some of the decorative pillows flying to the floor. He then climbed into your bed, slipping under the sheets he's missed. He wrapped them around him while turning onto his side to bury his face in your pillow. He moaned as the faint scent of your floral shampoo filled his nose. He nuzzled into your pillowcase, wishing it was your hair instead.

Traces of your perfume lingered on the sheets as he brought them up to his nose next. Everything about you was intoxicating to him, and you weren't even here. Fantasies of what he was going to do to you when he saw you again consumed him as he stroked himself.

He inhaled more of your scent as he relived your night together.

"You mean that badge and those big, brown eyes don't get all the girls?" You teasingly asked, leaning in close.

He shook his head. "Not all the time. I've been waiting all my life for you, baby."

"Aren't you sweet," you breathed against his lips.

"Only for you, honey," he softly replied, before deepening his kiss.

"Oh, fuck..." he sighed, already panting from how hard he's squeezing himself, imagining he's buried deep inside you.

"I missed your tight pussy, baby..."

He closed his eyes, and envisioned you riding him. His moans grew louder as he pictured you throwing your head back, and whimpering his name as he thrusted up, into you.

"Shit, it's so good..." he panted, feeling like he could burst any minute.

He was so lost in the ecstacy of you, he didn't notice you were now home. You crept toward your bedroom, listening to his whiny moans.

With a smirk, you pushed the door open to see him writhing underneath your sheets. When you saw his patrol car parked outside, you thought he was just waiting for you inside, though you wondered how he got in. The last thing you expected was catching him in your bed like this.

You stood in the doorway, shamelessly watching him before finally asking: "You need some help, Gator honey?"

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut

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luveline · 1 month

Note

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock.

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says.

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?”

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.”

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful.

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?”

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV.

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask.

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!”

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?”

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?”

“I’m so happy.”

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.”

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms.

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.”

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?”

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?”

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle.

“What’s the album?” he asks.

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.”

He stills. “They are?”

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?”

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.”

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on.

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through.

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.”

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly.

“I know.”

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe.

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him.

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.”

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?”

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.”

“Oh, I do?”

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.”

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one.

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably.

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.”

“Thank you for the cookie.”

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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egcdeath · 2 years

Text

cupid’s arrow

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel have your first valentine’s day together. (part of the soccer parents alternate universe)

warnings: alternate universe: no apocalypse, established relationship, domesticity, so much fluff. be prepared to call your dentist.

word count: 7.5k

author’s note: happy extremely late valentine’s day!!! i tried to incorporate a little bit of all the requests i got for this fic, so special thank you to everyone who helped make this fic happen!!

technically the timelines don’t really line up from this fic and the l word (many i love you’s are uttered) but you know what. it’s valentine’s day. valentine’s day magic ✨

“So, what’s your Valentine’s Day plan this year?” Sarah asked on her otherwise quiet commute to school.

Joel drew his attention away from the road to glance at his daughter and smiled to himself, just the slightest bit. He always found it oddly endearing to see just how invested his and your daughter were into your relationship. At this point, it was no secret that Sarah and Chloe had worked hard to set you and him up a multitude of times, and Joel certainly wasn’t mad about it. If anything, he was grateful for your kids being nosy and sharp enough to know when to make a move when you and himself clearly could not.

“Well I want our first one to be a good one, so I booked a reservation at this really nice restaurant. Pretty expensive, pretty hard to get into, but she deserves the best,” Joel said with a deceptively nonchalant tone.

Joel couldn’t even lie—he was proud of himself. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had spent Valentine’s day with anyone other than his daughter, and he’d booked the reservation the moment that it was available. The restaurant really was notorious for being hard to get into on a non-holiday, let alone Valentine’s Day, so he was sure you would appreciate the subtle-yet-grand gesture.

“Dad,” Sarah began, her tone slightly apprehensive as if she were preparing to break bad news to him. “I know this is your first Valentine’s Day in forever, but a restaurant is just… it isn’t enough anymore.”

“What?” Joel asked, slightly taken aback. Given that he hadn’t had a serious relationship in some time, and was more than slightly insecure about his ability to be as good of a partner as you expected, hearing his daughter explain that a fancy dinner wasn’t enough in the modern dating scene was jarring at the least, and terrifying at the most.

“Don’t worry. You’re lucky that your daughter is full of ideas. We’re gonna give your woman a perfect Valentine’s day.”

At your daughter’s request, you were painting Chloe’s nails to match the upcoming holiday to the absolute best of your ability. You tried your best, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t amazing, so the best of your ability ended up being a set of pink nails with one red finger–but your daughter was enjoying the process regardless.

“So mom,” Chloe began, fanning one hand as she attempted to speed up the process of drying her nails. “What’re you getting Joel for Valentine’s day?”

“I was thinking of taking him on a date to his favorite cafe. Something a little more relaxed,” you lightly dabbed some acetone where you’d gotten some polish on her skin.

“That’s sweet but… are you sure Joel wants that? I mean, you two always go there. It’s not particularly romantic.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking that you weren’t great with big romantic gestures. Nathan had been morally opposed to them, or too lazy for them, or something that ensured no one ever did anything romantic for you, and in return, you very rarely did anything romantic for him. Given that the last time you spent a Valentine’s Day (or anniversary… really any day that called for romance) with someone was with him, you weren’t even really sure where to start.

“Oh,” you thought aloud, trying to process the idea that small gestures wouldn’t really do justice to portray just how much you loved and appreciated your partner. “I guess you’re right.”

“Let me help you,” she insisted, excitedly grabbing onto your arm as her eyes lit up.

Well, it wasn’t like Chloe wasn’t good at these things. If it wasn’t for her and Sarah’s intervention, you and Joel never would’ve been together in the first place. It certainly wouldn’t kill you to let her help you out in this field.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed, playing up your reluctance.

“Yay!” she cheered. “This is gonna be so fun.”

You certainly hoped it would be.

On the morning of Valentine’s day, you were somewhat surprised when your alarm went off and you found Joel’s side of the bed to be both empty and cold.

Considering that your plan was to wake up early to leave a gift in the kitchen before Joel had the chance to get there, your Valentine’s Day plans weren’t off to the best start. You immediately rolled out of bed and suppressed the groan you wanted to let out at the sweet smell wafting up from the kitchen—both from anticipation of something delicious waiting for you, and the knowledge that your plan had been foiled.

After doing some rummaging through his closet, you managed to find the box of the coffee machine that you’d hidden, and hesitantly began your trek downstairs, knowing that your big reveal would be slightly less ideal. When you arrived in the kitchen, Joel was standing at the stove and diligently working on something. He glanced back at you, and a smile instantly formed on his lips at the sight of you—bed hair, old pajamas, and all.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he greeted, setting his spatula down and coming over to give you a tight embrace. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you said right back, relaxing into his hug despite the large box in your hands slightly obstructing it. “What’re you doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” Joel stated plainly, stepping back to look at what you were holding. “What’s this?”

“Your gift. I know you love coffee more than you love any person who’s in this house right now, so it’s time for you to get rid of your archaic machine. This is a Nespresso. Very modern and very good, or so I’ve heard,” you extended your hands to offer the box, which he gladly accepted

Joel examined it, the smile on his face not even faltering for a moment. With all this smiling, you were sure his cheeks would hurt by the end of the day. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait to use this,” he set down the box on the counter then gave you a peck. “Now, go back upstairs so I can finish working on your surprise.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you hummed, still fighting sleepiness as you retreated back up the stairs.

Well, your gift reveal may not have gone exactly the way you wanted it to, but you were pleased to see that Joel was still happy with what you gave him. Chloe would be proud.

“What is this?” Sarah asked, looking down at her plate of oddly shaped pink pancakes.

It was clear that this was what Joel had gotten up early to work on—Valentine’s Day themed pancakes. Although there was clearly an attempt at making what you could only assume were hearts, the pancakes came out as blobs more than anything else.

“…Hearts?” Joel suggested, sounding very unsure of his answer as he sipped his cup of coffee (made by his brand new machine).

“Dad…” Sarah trailed off, pushing around parts of her pancake.

“Are you gonna eat them or not?” Joel retorted, obviously a little less than enthusiastic about the reaction to the pancakes he’d gotten up early to work on, and worked quite hard on.

“I’m not gonna say no to breakfast.”

“I tried my best. It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

“They’re cute,” you interrupted. “It’s the thought that counts. I love them,” you hummed. The least you could do was support Joel in his romantic endeavors. Sure, the pancakes didn’t look amazing, but it really was a sweet gesture. And maybe they didn’t look the best, but they certainly tasted good.

Sarah didn’t exactly look like she believed you, and she glanced skeptically at Chloe, who was quietly giggling at the oddly shaped amoebas on her plate.

“I’m not an artist,” Joel explained, almost apologetically as your kids picked at their pancakes.

“We can tell,” Chloe murmured, earning herself a glare from you and a giggle from her friend.

“I never asked you to be one,” you assured. “It’s abstract. And it’s good enough for me.”

Joel quickly pecked your lips, eliciting a collective ‘ew!’ from the table.

“Alright, that’s enough from you two. Finish up quickly so we can get you to school on time,” you instructed.

The girls reluctantly agreed and finished up their abstract plates without much more protest or teasing before grabbing their last few items and heading off to the car.

“Did you actually like it? You can be honest with me,” Joel asked as you finished off your mug of coffee.

“I was being honest! I really did love it. It’s sweet that you put so much effort into doing something nice for me. Waking up all early, being in the kitchen all morning… I bet doing pancake art is pretty difficult.”

“It is, and you’d never guess that it is. The batter kinda just runs all over the place,” he explained, grabbing your empty dish and dropping it off at the sink. You got out of your seat and followed him over to where he stood, attempting to assure him that you really did enjoy the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“Well, I love that you tried so hard to make something nice for me to wake up to,” you took a step closer to Joel, giving him a brief little peck to show your appreciation. “And I love you.” you leaned in for one slightly longer kiss and Joel’s hands softly cupped your cheeks as the kiss deepened.

Joel finally pulled away, dropping his hands down from your cheeks to your hands so he could hold them. “As much as I’d like to kiss you all morning, we do have two kids waiting to be taken to school sitting in my backseat right now.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” you sighed. “Can we pick up where we left off when we get back?”

“Of course,” he agreed, beginning to lead you out the door.

Although your morning plans may have fallen through, your plan to pick up on your make-out session certainly did not, which was how you found yourselves waiting for the shower to warm up so you could hop in together and wash off the ever present scent of sweat and sex.

“It’s been too long since we last showered together,” you remarked, testing out the heat of the water with the palm of your hand before taking a step inside.

“It’s just that my shower is so small,” he explained, following you into the shower. “And we always end up thinking showering together is better than it actually is.”

“It is small, but I like being this close to you,” you countered, hugging him from behind. “We’re bonding. Don’t you like bonding with me?”

“I do, until one of us slips, and won’t stop talking about how they almost died for an entire day,” he set his hands on top of yours as you embraced him.

“That was once, Joel. One time!” you exclaimed, breaking away from your partner to reach for his shampoo.

“One time too many,” he responded.

Although ‘almost dying’ was a bit of an over-dramatization, it certainly wasn’t fun to fall in the shower. The day began as a slow Sunday morning at Joel’s place. Your daughter was at Nathan’s for the weekend, and Sarah had been at a sleepover with some friends. Given that the two of you had the house to yourselves, you certainly made the most of it before heading to the shower to clean yourselves up. Halfway through Joel assisting you in exfoliating your legs, you were met with the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, making you practically leap out of your skin, and lose your balance, leading you to fall pretty hard. Joel helped you up and immediately began to take care of you, and granted you weren’t too badly injured, but you refused to let Joel forget the time you dramatically tripped in the shower because Sarah got home from her sleepover a little early.

“I can’t believe you’re treating me like this on Valentine’s Day,” you sighed, pouring some shampoo and reaching into his hair to massage his scalp. “We should probably break up.”

“I agree,” Joel practically sighed, relaxed from the way your fingers were working in his hair. “I think it’s for the best.”

“Okay, I’ll let the girls know when we get out of the shower. The parents that they worked so hard to set up are never going to see or speak to each other ever again,” you said the words very seriously, but the way you were massaging Joel’s scalp told a completely different story.

“Sounds like a plan,” Joel purred, letting you work your magic as you played with his hair. “You’re too good at this. Why don’t I let you do my hair more often?”

“Psht, you're preaching to the choir here,” you reached forward to rinse off your hands. “For the record, this is one of your Valentine’s gifts. Savor it while you can. Especially before we finalize our breakup.”

“I’m savoring,” he insisted.

You two took your time in the shower, truly enjoying an endeavor you didn’t often do with each other. By the time you finally stepped out, the water had dropped several degrees, and you were both becoming human prunes.

Just moments after Joel wrapped his towel around his hips, he had disappeared back into his room, leaving you peeking past the bathroom door to see what he was up to. It certainly wasn’t unheard of for one of you to get ready without the other, but you preferred to have his presence with you in that humid little bathroom.

Joel came back just a few moments later, slightly more dressed, and now wielding a flat, red box.

“I got you something,” he announced as he joined you at the sink, bashfully looking down at the item in his hands.

“Oh?” you said curiously, glancing at the box as Joel slowly opened it, revealing a thin, silver necklace with what looked like a small diamond attached to it.

“It’s a necklace,” he explained, beginning to lift the dainty accessory out of the box so that he could fully display it to you.

You were immediately taken aback by it, an involuntary, “It’s beautiful,” slipping from your lips.

“Can I put it on you?” Joel asked cautiously. You eagerly agreed, excited to have a little piece of Joel on you at all times. You turned around and lifted up the back of your hair so that he could gently wrap the necklace around your neck, and he fumbled a bit with the clasp until it was just right.

“I love it,” you expressed, observing it in the mirror and running a finger against the chain of the necklace as you fully took it in. “This is too nice.”

“Nothing is too nice for you, my love.”

“You are such a sap,” you laughed, leaning forward to get a good look at the accessory and fully admire its beauty.

“And you love that about me,” Joel punctuated his sentence with a kiss to your cheek, leading you to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“You’re right. I do. Thank you,” you said, still checking yourself out with your new piece of jewelry.

“Can I take you somewhere?” you asked, glancing over at your partner in the mirror as he reached for his toothbrush.

“Sure. Where?”

“It’s a surprise,” you said with a knowing smile.

“So, where are we going?” Joel asked as you drove, the sunglasses on your nose preventing him from getting a good read on you.

“What part of surprise do you not get?” you teased, glancing over at him with a smirk. “We’re almost there. Hold your horses.”

Eventually, you pulled up to a little strip of businesses, and grabbed Joel’s hand as you led him out of the car and through a door.

You two were instantly hit with the smell of fragranced oil and the sound of rain from a sound maker as you walked further into the dim location. It was clear to you that Joel was still more confused than anything else.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Joel asked you in a whisper.

“Yes Joel, we are,” you laughed softly at his apprehension. To be fair, he didn’t have an idea of where he was or what you were making him do, but that didn’t make his nerves any less entertaining.

“And where exactly is that?” he followed up.

“We’re getting massages! C’mon,” you beckoned him to follow you up to a desk, where a bored-looking receptionist checked you in.

The two of you sat next to each other in the waiting room, waiting for your masseuses to prepare your room.

“What made you pick this?” Joel asked curiously.

“I dunno, you’re always telling me how sore you are after work. I thought maybe this would help your pain a little. It’s also very relaxing. You’re gonna love it and have a great time.”

There really weren’t too many problems you found that a nice massage at this salon couldn’t fix. When you found the time in your busy schedule to treat yourself to something nice and do a little self care, a deep tissue massage was always one of the first things you decided on doing. It was only a matter of time before you brought Joel along with you, and when you casually mentioned something about Joel to your masseuse, she did mention wanting to see him. Although, Chloe was the one to put the puzzle pieces together to you and suggest the couples’ massage.

“So you’ve done this before?” Joel questioned, still looking somewhere between a little cynical and a little trepidatious.

“Mhm,” you hummed, already imagining yourself getting every kink and bump in your back teased out.

“Walk me through it,” he suggested, seeming a little more comforted knowing that you had actually done this before.

“Well, we go in, they leave, and we strip down to our comfort level, then they just give us a nice deep tissue massage. It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but it starts feeling pretty good pretty quickly.”

Joel’s expression circled back to slightly skeptical, his brow raised and eyes slightly squinted as he looked at you.

“Don’t make that face! You’re gonna love it. And I’m literally gonna be right next to you. When I called to book this, the receptionist said that the massage tables are so close together, we could hold hands the whole time if we wanted to.”

“Alright, fine. But if I hate it, I get to say that I told you so.”

“Okay, deal,” you agreed.

Your massage was going so well, you swore you were on a different planet. Sure, you didn’t have a very physically labor intensive job, but all the stress you'd accumulated over the last… however long always seemed to find itself stuck in your body. The massage was doing exactly what it needed to in terms of getting it out.

Joel groaned your name, his voice slightly distorted by his face being buried in the head pillow. “I take back everything I said.”

“I know,” you responded, far too gone to even really process what he was saying.

Walking out of that studio, you felt like a brand new person. Maybe that person was a little oily, but you felt like your body had gone under a complete transformation in just that hour.

“I can’t tell if I want to take a nap or run a marathon,” you exclaimed, stretching out your rejuvenated limbs.

“That was an amazing gift. Can we make this a V-Day tradition?” Joel asked, opening the car door for you.

“Hell yeah,” you agreed, getting into the passenger’s seat and breathing out a heavy sigh. “To think you thought you wouldn’t like it. Now I get to say I told you so.”

“Fair. I deserve it. That was life changing. I could marry you for thinking of that.”

Chloe actually thought of that, but Joel didn’t need to know that. For all you cared, he could keep thinking that you were the romantic genius.

“So what’s next on the agenda?”

“Just sit and wait. It’s a bit of a drive, so maybe you can get in that nap you wanted.”

You unsurprisingly slept like a rock after that massage. So much so, that you woke up to Joel softly saying your name and gently shaking your shoulder as he attempted to let you know that you’d arrived at your next destination.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a an interesting looking building in front of you, one you’d seen in tourism handouts, but hadn’t yet visited for yourself—despite the many times you said you wanted to.

“Is this an art museum?” you asked aloud despite already knowing the answer.

Joel simply flashed you a toothy grin before popping out of the car, walking around it, and opening the door for you.

“I know you’ve been saying you want to come visit for a while,” he explained, slipping his hand into yours while you walked inside.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised that you actually listen to me. Thank you,” you expressed.

You and Joel took your time walking around the museum, exploring the exhibits, reading the labels on pieces, and taking in all of the interesting and beautiful art. It was refreshing to come to a museum and not be rushed the whole time by an impatient daughter or disinterested spouse, and Joel expressing every now and then that despite being surrounded by so much beauty and artwork, you were the prettiest thing in the museum certainly enhanced your experience.

The two of you entered an exhibit that was obviously targeted towards children as you approached the end of the building, and your eyes immediately fell on a station that was clearly designed for kids to use. You walked towards it, and plopped down on one side of the tiny table before Joel sat down right across from you.

“Isn’t this for kids?” he asked you, his knees audibly creaking as he attempted to get comfortable on his tiny stool.

“Whatever. They’re all at school anyway. Or at least, they should be,” you grabbed a marker that was on your side of the divider, along with a piece of paper. “Wanna draw each other?”

“Haven’t we already established today that there’s not an artistic bone in my body?”

“C’mon, Joel,” you pleaded. “Please? As a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“Fine. Only because I love you. But you’re not allowed to laugh.”

“Swear,” you agreed despite knowing that it was more likely than not that you were going to laugh. While Joel reached for his own writing utensil and paper, you set your hand in front of the timer on the desk, giving you both five minutes to work on your portrait.

The man across from you focused deeply on his paper, looking pensively and seriously down at his paper and up at you every now and then rather than actually putting his marker to the paper.

After five minutes, the built-in alarm went off, and you both put your markers down, evaluating the work you had done.

“I don’t know if you want to see this. It’s really bad,” Joel confessed, awkwardly moving the paper out of your direct eyeline.

“It’s definitely not! Here, we’ll show each other at the same time. On the count of three?”

The two of you lifted your papers at the same time, and you involuntarily giggled when you looked at Joel’s. It was more or less an extremely basic stick figure with hearts around it. To be frank, your picture of Joel was basically the same.

“Hey, part of our agreement is that you wouldn’t laugh!” Joel said in between laughter of his own.

“Joel, you’re laughing too!” you giggled, the two of you progressively laughing harder until your stomachs were hurting. Eventually, you were able to catch your breath and collect yourself enough to get some actual words out. “Here, let’s swap. I wanna put this on my fridge.”

“Please don’t,” Joel gasped as he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever live that down with our daughters.”

“Oh honey,” you responded, still fighting your fits of giggles. “That was the plan.”

After your museum date, you and Joel grabbed a quick lunch at a nearby cafe before heading back to the girls’ school to pick them up. You’d agreed to split up for the rest of the afternoon so that you had time to prepare for a nicer dinner in the evening.

It had been a long time since you’d dressed up like this. Although it was fun to get all dolled up, to put on a new matching set of lingerie under a new, formfitting dress, spend a good amount of time working on your makeup at your vanity, and take your time doing your hair, you couldn’t shake off the nervous feeling you were getting.

“Mom! Joel’s here!” Chloe yelled from your living room.

“You can let him in! I need to finish something up.”

You heard the familiar sound of conversation between Joel, Sarah, and Chloe while you finished up applying your lipstick, taking deep breaths as you did so. You just needed to see Joel, then you would feel better. To be quite honest, you were slightly intimidated by the restaurant he’d picked that night. Obviously you knew how exclusive and difficult to get in it was, but with how elite it was, part of you worried that you would stick out like a sore thumb.

But Joel had clearly worked so hard on making this night perfect for you, so you weren’t going to let a few nerves get you down. You grabbed your purse and headed downstairs, where your partner stood in your living room listening to your kids.

“Wow,” Joel said involuntarily when his eyes fell upon you. He immediately took a few steps towards you, setting a hand on your waist as he admired you.

“I don’t know why it always surprises me when I see how gross you guys are,” Chloe said, somewhere between a laugh and a cringe. “Okay, it’s time for you to get going. You don’t want to miss your reservation,” your daughter was practically pushing the two of you out the door, a little too enthusiastic to have the two of you gone. “Bye now!”

You finally were able to get a good look at Joel once you’d been shoved out of the door. He looked amazing in a well fitted suit, and a bouquet of red roses in hand.

“You look so handsome,” you gushed as you accepted his flowers. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I mean, you always look gorgeous, but you somehow found a way to look even more amazing.”

“Well thank you!” you giggled, letting Joel open the door to his car for you like the gentleman he was.

Joel sat down in the driver's seat, and began to head in the direction of the restaurant. Despite how late you were on the road, it seemed like traffic in the city was particularly bad. You and Joel kept up a light conversation, but the elephant in the room was clearly the traffic, and the fact that with every passing minute, the traffic only seemed to grow.

Your eyes flicked around in a cycle between the traffic ahead of you, your hot, but increasingly anxious date, and the clock on the dashboard. With just a few minutes until the time of your reservation, you finally piped up.

“Do you think we’re gonna make it on time?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” Joel answered quickly, his nerves quite obvious from the speed of his speech. He then followed it up with a slightly less agitated, “I hope so.”

“You know what? I’ll call and let them know we’re running late,” you suggested, reaching for your phone as if that would solve all issues.

That would make things better, right? You knew all that went into Joel getting this reservation, and you weren’t just gonna let it all slip away because of a little traffic.

You pressed your device to your ear and the phone rang once, then twice, then three times before you were informed by a robotic voice that the line was busy.

The scene of traffic didn’t seem to be getting any better either, with the cars in front of you essentially coming to a full stop every now and then. Time was quickly passing by, yet you weren’t making much progress distance-wise.

You called again to no avail, and attempted to maintain your composure. They would pick up soon enough, and you would get to your reservation on time, and you and Joel would have a lovely evening at that very fancy, exclusive restaurant.

Finally, someone on the other line picked up. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you were finally able to connect with an actual person, and attempt to explain your situation to them.

“We are aware of the car accident and the traffic jam it caused. However, regardless of external circumstances, our grace periods only last ten minutes. Unfortunately we’ve already given away your table to someone else on the waitlist. Our deepest and sincerest apologies.”

You looked over at Joel helplessly, disappointed to deliver the news about something he’d been so excited for for so long.

“Okay, thank you,” you said, quickly hanging up. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing you said to Joel. “They gave our table away.”

“You’re joking,” he said almost flatly, clearly in disbelief that something he’d worked so hard to plan for had slipped through his fingers so easily, and over circumstances that were completely out of his control.

“I’m sorry. We were later than their grace period. But it’s okay! We can just go somewhere else. I’ve heard about a few good restaurants nearby?”

“It’s Valentine’s day. They’re all gonna be fully booked,” he sighed, defeat clear in his tone. “Should I just turn around?”

“No! Right now I’m hungry enough that I’d eat your shoe if you put it in front of me with some silverware. Just… take me anywhere. Maybe somewhere you like? Preferably without a long line?”

Joel fell silent as he thought for a moment, trying to come up with a location that he enjoyed that wouldn’t be particularly busy that evening. As he pondered, a light bulb seemed to go off in his mind, leading him to turn his vehicle around and begin to take you elsewhere.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as Joel took your hand and led you towards a food truck. The smoky aromas hitting your nose were nothing short of heavenly, and if Joel believed that it was good, you were definitely taking his word for it.

“Is that… Joel, is that you?” the man in the window asked in disbelief as the two of you approached.

“It is,” he confirmed, a bit shyly.

“Damn, man! I almost didn’t recognize you all dressed up! What’s the-“ his eyes fell upon you, and his face lit up as he put the pieces together. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you by name, and wrapped an arm around you subconsciously. “We’re just celebrating Valentine’s Day.”

“Well you picked the right spot. Nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Louis.”

“Hi Louis. You know Joel?” you asked, curious about the camaraderie the pair seemed to have.

“I practically watched him grow up, so yeah, I guess so,” he flashed the two of you a smile, the look he gave Joel slightly more knowing than the soft one he offered you. “What’re we ordering tonight?”

Joel looked at you and shrugged, giving you the go-ahead for anything. It wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on spending a whole mortgage and kidney worth on food at the restaurant you had a reservation at.

You ordered a few different things from his menu, led more by your eyes and nose than your stomach. Louis nodded as you spoke before calling something out to the people working by the grill, and maintaining his position at the window so he could talk to you two.

“Why haven’t I met your friend before, Joel?” Louis asked, teasing in his voice.

“Well, obviously I was waiting for the most romantic day of the year to bring her here,” he looked away from his family friend and back to you. “You know, most people say that bringing your partner here is basically like having a ring in your hand and dropping to one knee.”

“Oh?” you laughed. “I’m flattered. Are you proposing to me?”

“No, not yet,” Joel shot a wink at you, and you felt a slight warmth rise to your cheeks. Of course, he was joking, but if he asked you in that moment to marry him, you’d probably say yes.

“Depending on how good this is, I may be proposing to you, Louis,” you teased, deflecting from the fantasy of marrying your partner.

“Hey! No need for that. Joel’ll bring you to one of my barbecues this summer. I promise you’ll eat so much of my food that you’ll never even want to even think about it again. Right, Joel?”

“Correct. Why do you think it’s been so long since I’ve visited you last?”

“Oh, excuses, excuses,” Louis dismissed, glancing back over his shoulder at the employee preparing your food. “Well lovebirds, since it’s Valentine’s Day, how’d you meet?” he questioned curiously, leaning further onto the ledge so he could get a good look at you and Joel.

“Our kids played soccer together on the same team, so we met through arguing like, all the time,” you laughed, glancing over at Joel who seemed just the slightest bit embarrassed at your frankness of your unconventional meet-cute.

“It sounds kinda bad when you put it like that. We were basically flirt-arguing,” Joel attempted to explain.

“Maybe you were. I was just arguing. But eventually our girls became friends, and we were forced to spend more time together, and I realized he’s not half bad,” you were downplaying just how much you adored the man standing next to you for a bit of comedic effect, but the quick look the two of you shared seemed to communicate everything it needed to for Louis.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Joel said, cracking an adoring half-smile at you.

“That is too damn sweet,” Louis expressed as he looked between the two of you. He had to do a bit of reading in between the lines, but it was clear to him that the two of you were a rather happy pair, as evidenced by your comfortable body language and the fond teasing. He was clearly quite pleased to see Joel as happy as he was with you. “As much as I’d like to chat and hear more, your order is unfortunately ready. We’ll catch up another time?”

Louis turned around to grab your boxes, and leaned back over the ledge to pass them to Joel.

“Of course. If I don’t get back around sometime soon, we’ll definitely be at one of your barbecues this summer.”

“Good,” Louis nodded. “And before you head back home, stop back over here. I’ll make Sarah her favorite, and something for your daughter too!” he offered you both.

Louis’ barbecue was no joke. You and Joel absolutely demolished everything that was ordered as you laid in the bed of his truck, sat on the blankets Joel had packed for a previous picnic and had never seemed to put back.

“Why hadn’t you brought me here sooner?” you asked, sauce on the edges of your lips. “I feel like a brand new person after this.”

Joel reached over, dabbing at your mouth with a napkin to clean up what you missed. “I told you, this is like serious engagement food. If I brought you here too early on, I might’ve scared you off by moving too fast,” he jokingly explained as he set down the napkin and dragged himself a little closer to you.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the explanation, but leaned onto Joel regardless. “Yeah, whatever,” you muttered, setting your head on his shoulder and looking up at the night sky.

“Do you remember that night when you helped me out with making the team dinner?” Joel seemingly asked out of the blue, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“I do,” you nodded, glancing away from the sky and instead looking at Joel. “We’re a pretty great team.”

“We are,” Joel agreed, pausing for a moment. “Do you remember when I asked you out for the first time?”

“Of course I do.”

“I was so nervous. I really liked you a lot, but I wasn’t completely sure you’d say yes, and I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we’d been working on, or make things awkward for the girls. I just kept looking at the sky so I wouldn’t see you and think about all of those things,” he confessed, looking to the sky as he spoke.

“Are you nervous now?” you asked, noticing him watch the stars above you.

“No,” he assured you. “It’s just really beautiful out here tonight. Really clear.”

You leaned in closer, practically sitting on the lap of the man next to you at that point, “Do you see anything good up there?”

“Yeah,” Joel answered, his words blowing a few strands of hair as he spoke.

“Show me?” you asked, curiously peering up at the sky to attempt to see what Joel might’ve been seeing.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Well that right there is the big dipper. And the little dipper, too.”

“Where?” you asked, despite seeing it clearly. You had stargazed with Joel a handful of times, and he always did this cute thing when he saw something that you couldn’t see—grabbing your hand and leaning into you while he pointed out the stars with your own fingers, essentially cuddling you as he did so. His knowledge of what he was looking for, the competency in his actions, and the proximity he kept with you always drove you a little bit wild, and you’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity of getting that side of him out.

Joel took the bait, not even realizing that it was bait. He gently guided your arm to point out the constellation, speaking quietly next to your ear as he narrated what he was seeing. It was taking everything in you not to jump his bones then and there as he helped you see each set of stars.

After a period of pointing out constellations to each other, the two of you finally seemed to run out of observations to make, leaving you quietly sharing space on the blanket laid out in the bed of Joel’s truck.

“This has been my favorite Valentine’s day ever,” you expressed, gazing up at the stars with far less effort than you’d had previously. “I do love spending the day with you, but you really went out of your way to make today sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit. You are the one who arranged that absolutely life changing massage, and the Nespresso machine was great too. I will definitely be using it all the time now.”

“You know, it’s so weird. I used to hate Valentine’s day. Dread it every year because I just knew I’d be disappointed. But you changed that for me. Maybe it’s all the stuff we got to do, but I honestly think I’d be happy doing laundry or something with you today, as long as it meant I’d get to be with you.”

You were thoroughly exhausted after your day of Valentine’s activities, paired with the digestion you were going through after all of that dangerously delicious barbecue you and Joel had consumed. It was safe to say that the ride back to your place was a quiet one, only filled with the occasional uncomfortable grunt or a comment reminiscing on how good your dinner was.

By the time you opened your door, you were shocked to find your living room completely uprooted and transformed into a massive pillow fort. Your daughters, who conveniently were sitting inside of the fort, didn’t seem to notice you as you came in, as they were far too caught up in the Hallmark movie they were watching. Eventually, the sound of feet shuffling caught their attention, and the pair were out of the fort in record time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” they both cheered, making jazz hands towards the fort.

“To commemorate your first date, we built you a new and improved pillow fort,” Sarah explained, as she continued to Vanna White their creation.

“This time, it’s big enough for all of us. You’ve had enough alone time today,” Chloe expressed. “Come, come! Are you ready for the tour?”

Your kids showed you the inside of the fort, and there honestly wasn’t much to see. However, it was still quite impressive that they’d managed to pull off putting together such a big fort in such a short period of time.

“But before we lay down, go change into pajamas. No one should be in a pillow fort in a suit. That’s just ridiculous,” Sarah remarked

“You heard the girl, go!” Chloe emphasized, herding you two upstairs without even giving you time to voice any sort of protest.

“You really went all out this year,” Joel gushed as he followed you into your bedroom.

Hearing him say that did make you feel a little guilty. Sure he didn’t need to know that Chloe had done most of the heavy lifting when it came to celebrating this holiday, but it felt wrong to keep things from him—even something as small as not coming up with original ideas.

“Joel, I have to tell you something,” you began hesitantly as he unzipped your dress.

“Oh no. Are you breaking up with me? Are you pregnant?” he glanced at you over your shoulder.

“No! And no, that’s just my food baby. It’s just that… basically everything I did for you today, Chloe helped me come up with. I was gonna get you a box of chocolates, show you this number,” you gestured at the lingerie revealed by your fallen dress, “then call it a day.”

“You wanna know the truth?” he asked before reaching into your dresser and tossing you a set of pajamas. “I needed Sarah’s help for almost everything today, too. Obviously it was a great day, but… I don’t need fancy things from you or huge romantic gestures, despite what our children might think. Your love alone is plenty.”

“Promise?” you asked, pulling on your pajama shirt.

“Swear.”

“Can we shake on doing a massage and getting barbecue next Valentine’s Day, nothing more and nothing less?”

“That sounds perfect,” Joel agreed, shaking your hand to drive in the point of your agreement. “Now let’s go check out that pillow fort.”

Chloe and Sarah snuggled against you as a new, cheesy rom-com played out on the television in front of you.

“So, how was your V-Day?” Chloe asked, looking between you and Joel mischievously. Obviously, the kids were curious about the fruits of their labor, and you genuinely could not blame them. With all the effort they’d put into making your day great, they deserved to know just how pleasant it was.

“It was amazing,” you confirmed, squeezing your daughter’s shoulder.

“We couldn’t have done it without you two,” Joel added, tossing a not-so-subtle wink at Sarah.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Sarah asked with a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

“It means that you two are hopeless romantics, and without your guys’ help, we would’ve had a painfully boring Valentine’s Day,” you explained.

“Can you blame us for wanting to help you two old farts out? You haven’t celebrated this holiday in like 200 years,” Chloe retorted.

“Nothing wrong with that,” you affirmed. “You guys are good eggs. Is it too late to ask you both to be my Valentine?”

“Yes,” Chloe deadpanned.

“Nope,” Sarah said, popping her ‘p’. “But only if you get us heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.”

“I think that can be arranged. Right, Joel?” you asked.

“Fine. I’ll pick up some discounted chocolates after work tomorrow,” Joel said it begrudgingly, but deep down you knew that his softie heart was bursting with love for your family.

“Thank you. Happy Valentine’s day, my lovely loves,” you expressed, pulling the girls next to you closer to emphasize your point.

“Ew, mom,” Chloe squealed, only egging you on to pepper her cheeks in kisses.

This had by far been your favorite Valentine’s Day, and it really wasn’t even close. When you were surrounded by your favorite people in the world, doing something ridiculously thoughtful and sentimental, there was no way you could ever ask for more.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal x reader

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toffeebrew · 2 months

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tell me your Ink headcanons NOW 😼😼😼

You're... giving me permission.... to share my ink headcanons.

well get ready

Talked about this one already but I'll share it again: I think Broomie is semi sentient. I like to think at first Ink didn't know that though, but still talked to broomie anyway. So, regardless of this fact Ink probably would've talked to broomie.

He's good at encouraging people but not comforting people. If that makes sense? (projection much pfttt)

If you ran your hand over the "tattoo" marks it have a slight divot in it. Like a crack in a road. Probably because... in my hc they're literally semi healed cracks.

They're is talented in many types of art not just one. Hes talented in singing, dancing, fashion design, mechanics, and architecture! Really the only one he struggles with is well... cooking. Do NOT let that man in a kitchen (I mean he's immortal why would he not learn multiple artistic skills?)

Y'know how canon!swap climbs on people because hes insecure about his height? I think Ink does the same thing.

(More yappening under the cut)

Deep down he feels like something is missing... what he doesn't know is he's missing his home, his AU. Sometimes hes goes on a search universe to universe in search of "something important he can't remember" but can never find it. Until he gets bored, forgets what he's doing or gets preoccupied with something else.

He likes switching up his looks so he may give himself a tail or paws or claws with his brush. Maybe he even changes the color of his limbs sometimes (that's more a crack hc though). He gives themself a new outfit at any chance he can get. (Edit: I actually imagine one of the reasons he would get excited for multiverseal events is mainly because he gets to show off a new outfit for that event. He goes ALL out)

Due to his dulled sense of pain often he isn't aware he's injured unless it's pretty severe. So he may just go about their day with injuries they don't know about. Typically Dream or Swap have to be like "dude you have a crack in your skull."

After that one comic with Swap and Ink, Swap bandaged up his skull despite Ink insisting he didn't need it. Mainly because Swap didn't know Ink could heal themself and just thought Ink was being humble. Everytime he went to go take it off, Swap would freak about it hasn't had enough time to heal. Until Ink did a more through "I have a brush bro chill" (not ink accurate dialogue).

He's super flexible!! like contortionist level of flexibility.

Oddly specific but I think they're the type to consume all sorts of fan content and enjoy it. Completely ooc and fanon stuff too. He would be the type to read a fic and go "I would NOT say that" with a giggle and write a heartfelt comment anyway.

If you know homestuck... Nepeta has a shipping wall. I think Ink would have something similar (projection?? blasphemy!). Maybe in his sketchbook or smth. I mean do you see how he reacts around his dads smh 😔😮‍💨. He doesn't take it all that seriously though... LMAO. But I feel like he would be like "🏳️‍🌈?" y'know? Is this making any sense? I hope LMAOOO

Ink knows being called "child" annoys Dream so when Dream's like "I'm not a child I'm 500 years old" he just uses different synonyms of kid " heya youngster" " hi boy" stuff like that to annoy him. Just to mess with him.

He loves "aggressive affection." Like he bites people. He also likes to be bitten (not in a sus way but like in a cat like way). He loves bear hugs. Stuff like that.

He loves being drawn on, like literally. He loves the sensation of art supplies on his bones. Particularly the texture of paint and pencil are the ones he enjoys the most. He draws designs and stuff on his bones sometimes.

He has that cartoon ability to walk on walls or the ceiling and completely defy gravity. How? Cartoon skelly powers ig.

#ask #anon #ink sans #utmv headcanons #ink!sans #inktale #_tale #technically

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syrupfog · 5 months

Text

Law thinks he has it figured out.

That scrawny kid who just wandered into the university’s yearly flu vaccine clinic Law was manning and just DECIDED that Law was his new best friend— Luffy, he said his name was. Monkey D. Luffy, as if anyone could take that name seriously.

Law thinks he’s figured it out, though. How Luffy CHOOSES the people he does, and adds them to his group.

(not that Law is IN his group, absolutely not).

Sanji’s the most obvious one. He’s INCREDIBLY useful, no one could deny that. He cooks obscene amounts of food for everyone.

Nami, too, feels like a given. She has CONNECTIONS, knows how to use them, keeps records and receipts and organizes all the parties that Luffy spontaneously seems to decide on. She’s the brains.

Zoro Law struggled with at first, the man seems to just think about swords—

but seeing them out in public, Law realizes he’s like a human guard dog, leering over Luffy’s shoulder at anyone who disagrees. Chopper seems a little young— is the kid even in undergrad?— but he’s first aid trained and Law’s seen him put it to use on numerous occasions already.

Now Nico Robin— how on EARTH Luffy managed to make friends with the youngest tenured professor GLU has ever had is beyond Law, but she has connections in academia the way Nami does on the streets. Law would bet money that Robin’s the only reason Luffy is still enrolled.

Usopp’s an odd one, but he’s… well, funny might not be exactly the right word. Entertaining. And more importantly can fix anyone’s computer or phone within an hour. He adds weird features when he does, but his work is solid.

Franky is a GIVEN, he’s the one with the converted old double decker bus — Law didn’t think they even HAD those here — and auto garage. Luffy says the word and he’ll fix anyone’s car free of charge. It’s ridiculous what Luffy can get people to do.

Brook is also obvious. Most famous musician this side of the East Blue, how on EARTH did Luffy meet him? Regardless, the man’s surely a millionaire slumming it with the rest of them for the chance to play what he wants to play and be appreciated for it

Jinbei was confusing until Law learned how they met — that protest that Luffy (along with half his crew) were arrested at last semester. Professor Emeritus in the law department, he was once famous for organizing protests around campus, and eagerly bailed them all out.

So, Law’s figured it out. As much as Luffy SEEMS like a carefree brainless soul, he’s been strategic from the very first step, surrounding himself with everyone he needs to stay on top. He’s incredibly devious, honestly, Law’s almost intimidated.

He also knows that this means he doesn’t have a place among them.

As much as he’s always planned on being a surgeon, things just don’t work out sometimes. Like when your adopted uncle frames your adopted father for tax fraud and make it look like HE’S a millionaire—

Meaning you suddenly end up with a dad in jail AND getting rejected for FAFSA. No money, no loans, one single scholarship that Law’s about to be dropped from. Sorry Luffy, you’re going to have to find a surgeon somewhere else. Chopper will be good enough, surely.

He tries to separate himself from Luffy, but that’s easier said than done, as Luffy sticks to him like glue when they’re in the same place. The man’s incorrigible, impossible, guileless, brazen…

Law ends up yelling at him in the middle of a party thrown at Jinbei’s house.

Shouts that he’s dropping out, failing, not going to live up to whatever role Luffy’s recruited him to fill. Tells him to find another surgeon, they’re a dime a dozen on med campus anyway. Storms out before he does something dumb like tear up.

Oddly enough it’s Usopp who follows him.

He sits down next to Law, looking stiff and uncomfortable, and declares that he “knows what Law’s going through”, which feels, well, patently untrue.

“I did this like a year ago,” Usopp says. “Tried to tell him to drop me.”

They’re sitting on the curb. Law scrunches grass between his fingers and stares at the road.

“I had a car,” Usopp says. “She was BEAUTIFUL. Best car you’ve ever seen. Two hundred miles to the gallon and ran on French fry grease.”

Ah, this is one of those stories.

Usopp deflates. “Then she died,” he says. “We’d just met Franky and he told me she was beyond repair. Then he offered up that bus he has, replacing her before she was even in the ground yet! And like, I’m not going to say he was replacing ME, but like—“

Law nods.

“It’s not like I had a lot going for me anyway,” Usopp says. “Not compared to Nami or Sanji or Chopper. I thought I was just lucky Luffy found me early, when his standards were lower.” He laughs, but there’s no joy behind it.

“Anyway,” he picks at the laces of his shoes. “That car’s at the bottom of a lake now, may she rest in peace. And after I tried to pull what you just pulled, Luffy really fucking let me have it.” He ducks his head. “Told me I was being fucking stupid, and he was right.”

He glances up at the sky and Law watches, a queasy feeling in the base of his stomach.

“Turns out,” Usopp says after a long pause, “Luffy really does just choose people he likes.” He sighs. “You’re just lucky, actually, because I don’t think he’s liked anyone as much as you.”

Law grimaces. He doesn’t FEEL lucky.

Usopp, taking his queue, stands up. “The sooner you admit what you’re dealing with, though, the more he’s able to help.”

Then he leaves Law alone.

And Law… finds he doesn’t want to BE alone.

He slinks back into the party maybe twenty minutes later. It’s chill. Brook is taking song requests. Sanji is handing out grilled halloumi.

Luffy immediately walks up to him. “Why didn’t you TELL ME,” he asks, indignant.

“What, that my life is a mess?”

“Everyone’s life is a mess, silly,” Luffy says. “But we can HELP, duh.”

“I think even YOU can’t keep me from getting kicked out of GLU,” Law says.

“No,” Luffy agrees. “But HE can.”

He points to Jinbei, sitting at an old yellowed desktop computer in the corner.

“I have friends in the law department who haven’t retired yet,” Jinbei says. He has small spectacles perched on his nose. “They know people. Sending a few emails now.”

Chopper walks up to the two of them, looking shy. “I can help you study,” he says. “N-not that you need it!”

Nico Robin comes over, cocktails in each hand, pushing one of them into his. “Student services is accommodating,” she says. “If you know who to ask.”

“YOW!” Shouts Franky from the couch. “And I just hacked their system and changed your grades!”

Law chokes on his drink.

“SEE?” Luffy huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s FINE. You freaked out for nothing!”

Law squints at him. “And if it’s not fine, Luffy-ya? If none of this helps and I still fail out of school?”

Luffy purses his lips. “Duh, then you can just come live with me.“

He looks incredibly petulant. “It’s not like I like you BECAUSE you’re a surgeon. I like you because I asked for two of every shot and you said I’d have to choose a fake name instead of telling me no!”

Ah. He did do that, didn’t he.

“And anyway, *i* don’t have a degree and I’m fine!”

“You’re GETTING one,” Law points out.

Luffy looks at him like he’s lost it. “I attend classes because they’re fun,” he says. “I don’t even have a high school degree, I don’t care about that stuff.”

…huh.

“Now come on,” Luffy says, wrapping small boney fingers around Law’s wrist. Zoro’s going to play snooker with me and I need you to watch to make sure he doesn’t cheat, because I don’t know the rules.”

And Law follows him.

And follows him.

And when he starts his next semester with his dad out of jail because Jinbei’s connections are honestly a little scary, and when he doesn’t sleep for three days in a row during finals week, and when he gets into the exact fellowship he wants, working under Marco himself—

Law follows Luffy.

Because nothing else makes sense.

Law hasn’t figured Luffy out at all But he’s figured everyone else out. Understands the magnetism they’re all drawn to.

And when he falls into bed with Luffy at the end of long days and weeks, He knows he’s the lucky one.

#lulaw #lawlu #my writing

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therealcocoshady · 6 months

Text

Recovery - Chapter 31

Eminem x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : Dinner with Reader's Dad ends up being a nightmare.

Tags : Angst - Comfort

MARSHALL’S POV

Y/N was pacing the room and her nerves were starting to rub off on him. Out of all the people he had ever met, she was the one whose stress was most communicative. With the energy she was giving, she could probably stress out the toughest, best-trained army negotiators. When she had told him that her father wanted to meet him, Marshall hadn’t freaked out. Being a Dad to someone his girlfriend’s age, he understood the idea of parents wanting to meet their children’s significant others. Sure, he hadn’t met a girlfriend’s family in a while, but he wasn’t too scared. The perspective of Y/N’s father being about his age made things less impressive. The way he saw it, it would just be a casual dinner and, worst comes to worst, he would have to state his intentions towards the man’s daughter : make her happy and support her. Not to toot his own horn, but he could think of worse boyfriends than him for anyone’s daughter. After all, he wasn’t a deadbeat, he had a job, money and he loved Y/N unconditionally. So he wasn’t too stressed out. At least, at the beginning. Because as they got closer to the fateful dinner, Y/N was starting to lose her grip.

Stop stressing out, babe, he chuckled. It’s going to be fine. Plus, I know how to make a good impression.

Sorry, she groaned. It’s just… You meeting my Dad, you know ? I can think of a thousand things that could go wrong.

It’ll be fine, he said softly. Plus, he knows what to expect, right ? The fact that you told him you’re dating me and that he is willing to meet me has to be a good sign.

Oh, he has no idea who you are, she said.

Is that a family thing ? He chuckled. Like a collective decision not to know too much about me before meeting me ?

No, I mean… I don’t know if he knows who Eminem is, actually, she said. He hates rap and hip-hop anyway. But as far as he knows, your name is Marshall and you’re american and… that’s about it.

He opened his eyes wide. He wasn’t expecting that. Not that he was counting on his fame to woo Y/N’s dad, but he thought that the man having an idea of who he was meeting would play in his favor. At least, there wouldn’t be an element of surprise. Better yet, he could have been surprised in a good way, upon discovering that his daughter was not dating an asshole, as it was a common misconception about him.

So he doesn’t know anything about my job, my age… ? Marshall asked.

Hum… No, she said sheepishly. I wasn’t too sure how to break it to him on the phone…

Ok, he sighed. I mean, it can still go well. Is there anything I should know about him ? Other than the fact he might despise what I do for a living ?

You could still word it differently ? She suggested. And say that you’re an entrepreneur in the music industry ? I mean, you own a studio…

Sure, he nervously chuckled. What else ? How do I make a good impression ?

Well he’s already pissed off that he has to come to us for dinner, she pointed out. So we might want to have wine ready.

It’s for his own good, he said. If we’re followed by the press, I’m not sure he would enjoy having paparazzi waiting outside of his place...

I know, she said. But I think we might want to make it up to him with food and wine. And other than that… Hum… Don’t be too American, I guess ?

What the fuck does that mean ? He asked.

Look, my dad can be a bit of a snob, sometimes. Judgy, too… He thinks all American people are over the top and flashy. So maybe no chains or massive jewelry and something with a button wouldn’t hurt, I guess.

Babe, oddly enough, I didn’t bring a shirt or a suit on tour with me, he pointed out with a smile. The best I can do is a sweater.

Sweater it is, then, she said. And you should wear a belt. Like, properly. No ass on display.

Alright, he chuckled. Though you usually like my ass on display…

And no jokes, too, she said sternly.

I’m not stupid, Y/N, he said. I’m not going to joke about our sex life in front of your father.

No, I mean… He doesn’t really do jokes. At all.

Now, he was definitely more stressed out and already bored. He already expected the culture shock, knowing that Europeans are a bit different from Americans on a few aspects. Thankfully, Y/N’s dad spoke English so that was one less thing to worry about. But regardless, it was shaping out to be incredibly boring. As far as he knew, her Dad was an accountant whose hobbies were literature and opera. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but he couldn’t really relate to him.

The plan was to have dinner delivered in their penthouse suite, since going to her dad’s place or the restaurant would be too complicated. The dining room area was welcoming and, apparently, formal enough. Too much for his own liking, but apparently, the man enjoyed things with structure. Her father was about to arrive when Y/N was getting ready. She was dressed in a little navy dress that looked quite conservative. She was pretty, as usual, but he was used to her sporting a more casual look. Not to mention that she spent most of the time in his clothes anyway.

I’m sorry, you didn’t mention that your Dad was a priest, he giggled. Why the fuck are you dressed like you’re going to church ?

He’s a little formal, she said in an annoyed tone.

He’s your father, he said. Why would he care what you wear to dinner ? It’s just us in the suite, you could be wearing PJs…

I told you, Marsh, he’s a little strict, she shrugged. You know, I only started dressing casually when I came to America. Before that, I would never be caught dead wearing leggings and a hoodie.

Fine, he chuckled. Are we ready now ?

I guess, she groaned. I just want to get it over with.

He pulled her in for a kiss. He wanted to get over it too, and focus on the bigger picture : in two days, he would fly back to Detroit while she packed her things before joining him and,

after that, the fun would begin. He would actually have her by his side and get to experience life with the woman he loved. The idea was making his heart swell with joy, as well as the fact that his daughters were really happy for them. When he asked for their blessings, a couple of nights ago, they were nothing but supportive. He didn’t even need to plead his case : they could see what a breath of fresh air Y/N was for him. He had never thought about bringing a woman into his family, but he was so happy he had found her. Now that they were going to live together, he wanted nothing more than to give her the life she deserved and provide her with the safe space she needed. He knew the past few months had been trying for her, and he would be there for her as she let her mind and body recover. Caring for her had become second nature to him anyway, ever since they had met.

Y/N received a call from reception, indicating that her father was here. He could see her anxiety levels rise once again, as he tried to give her a reassuring smile. He kissed her forehead before she went downstairs to meet her Dad, before bringing him into the room. While she was gone, he inspected himself in the mirror. He was dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater. He had even trimmed his beard for the occasion. He looked rather random. That was the kind of look he usually donned for appointments like PTA or meetings, where he needed to be taken seriously and look like an adult, instead of the man-child he definitely was, dressed in jeans and hoodies, or tee-shirts with rap album covers on them. A couple of minutes later, his girlfriend came back to the room with a man that looked nothing like her. He assumed she took after her mother, because he couldn’t have guessed she was related to this man. He was rather tall and carried himself like a military man, with a stiff posture. He looked rather serious. No, gloomy was a more appropriate word. He wasn’t really one to judge solely on vibe, but he immediately felt ill at ease. One look at the man and he could tell the father was nothing like Y/N. In spite of her usual shyness, she exuded warmth and softness. A far cry from her dad, who seemed cold and distant. As soon as they got through the door, he went to them and shook his hand.

Papa, this is Marshall, my boyfriend, Y/N said. Marsh, this is Jean, my father.

Bonjour, Marshall said as they shook hands and made eye contact, deciding to try one of the three words of french his girl had taught him.

Bonsoir, the man replied in a corrective tone.

Marshall looked at Y/N, a bit lost.

It means “good evening”, she explained. Bonjour is for the day.

Oh, right, he said. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, sir.

Likewise, the man said in an emotionless voice.

They went to sit in the living room area where Y/N had prepared a glass of wine for her father and soda for the both of them.

I got your favorite wine, she said with a shy smile.

Are the two of you not drinking with me ? He asked.

I don’t drink, Marshall simply said.

I don’t feel like drinking, Y/N said softly.

He could tell she was uncomfortable, and he distinctly remembered her telling him that her father knew nothing about her addiction, recovery, nor her sobriety. She had always been a bit shy, but seeing how uncomfortable she was in the presence of the man who had raised her gave him red flags. Something felt off. Or at least, as a father, he would hate for his girls to be this tense around him. But then again, he understood that not everyone’s relationship with their parents was fun.

Americans usually fail to enjoy wine properly, Jean pointed out.

We actually have decent wine, you know ? Marshall said with a smile.

Only because they come from french vines, the man replied. Are you sure you don’t want to try this, Marshall ?

I’m good, he said. I don’t drink, for health reasons.

He wasn’t ashamed of being sober. Usually, it was quite the contrary : he was proud of his journey and he had come far. But when meeting your girlfriend’s dad, saying you’re recovering from addiction makes you seem like a raging drug-addict and alcoholic, which isn’t exactly the best look. Jean nodded and understanding and they sipped on their beverages as they made small talk.

So… Y/N told me downstairs that you are an entrepreneur ? The father asked, giving him his time to shine.

I am, Marshall nodded. In the music industry, actually.

I don’t know if she told you, but I am a big fan of music myself, Jean continued. What kind of business do you do ?

Well I own a recording studio and a label, Marshall explained. There are a couple of other things, but I am mainly into recording, producing and songwriting.

Have you been doing it for a long time ?

About twenty-five years.

He could see Jean’s stare intensify.

How old are you exactly, Marshall ? He asked in an inquisitive tone.

Fifty-two, Marshall replied as calmly as he could.

He knew he looked a few years younger - thanks to genetics, healthy eating, exercising as well as a good skincare regimen prescribed by his daughters - but surely, his age couldn’t be such a surprise, right ? Or at least, that’s what he thought when he saw his girlfriend’s father’s face decompose. Jean glared at his daughter who immediately looked down.

So, you’re into opera, right ? Marshall asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Indeed, Jean said. What kind of music do you produce ?

Mostly hip-hop, Marshall said. Though I’ve worked with artists of various horizons.

Anything I might have heard ?

Well, you might have heard some Eminem stuff, he said with a soft smile.

Y/N threw him a panicked glance. The man in front of him might hate hip-hop but he still had to be honest. Hiding from his father-in-law that he was a big recording artist was probably not the best way to go and get his approval. Life had taught him that honesty was, by far, the best way to go.

I have heard of him, Jean simply said. I cannot say I care for this type of music.

I get it, that’s not for everyone, Marshall said with a shrug.

It is that I don’t think it qualifies as proper music, the man continued. Does it even pay the rent ?

Marshall tried his best not to roll his eyes. He had heard countless times that hip-hop is not actual music and he was sick of people failing to understand the artistry behind it. However, now was not the time to argue. The question about paying the rent was also incredibly stupid, in his opinion. The man was sitting in the penthouse suite of one of the most expensive hotels in Paris. Of course, it paid the rent. He didn’t want to be an asshole who flaunted his wealth, but the judgy look on the other man’s face was almost prompting him to list his assets.

Well, it certainly bought the house, Marshall said with a forced smile.

Alright. What brings you to Europe ? Jean asked. Business ?

Yeah, Marshall said. I just finished the second part of my tour, actually.

Your tour ? You are an artist too ?

Dad, Y/N interjected. What Marshall means to say is that… He’s Eminem.

Marshall smiled. At least that was clearer now. It was the first time he had ever had to disclose who he was in such a way. Jean turned to his daughter with a confused expression and said something in french. Y/N’s eyebrows were furrowed as she replied something, visibly uncomfortable. It was incredibly frustrating for him not to understand a word of what they were saying. From what he gathered, it wasn’t a very pleasant exchange.

We should order our food, Y/N said after a while.

Her expression was one of confusion and sadness. She seemed visibly hurt by something her father had said. He hated seeing her this way, but he also didn’t want to interfere. They ordered food from the room service and kept on making awkward small talk. As the meal arrived, they settled in the dining room.

Forgive me for being so blunt, but I am rather disappointed, Jean said.

What disappoints you ? Marshall asked.

When I agreed to let Y/N study in America, I did not expect for her to end like this, he explained matter-of-factly. No one wants their daughter unemployed and making poor life decisions.

He saw Y/N duck her head down. The remark was not aimed at him, at least not directly, but it stung. It was no wonder why she didn’t mention her father too often : from the looks of it, he was an ass.

Ever since her mother’s death, I have raised her on my own and tried to instill good values in her. I certainly did not expect her to repay me by failing miserably to start a career and deciding to be some sort of potiche for a rapper.

A what ? Marshall asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

Potiche, Y/N repeated with a sad look on her face. It means “vase”. It refers to, hum… a woman who is basically a trophy wife.

Marshall’s eyes darkened. He wasn’t necessarily expecting the man’s blessing - not that he cared too much, Y/N was an adult - but having a man his age insult his own daughter was wrong on so many levels. He tried really hard not to spit in the man’s face but it was getting harder by the minute. If he hadn’t gone to anger management classes and therapy, he probably would have thrown him out already.

I mean, she just became a doctor, Marshall said tentatively. You must be kind of proud.

The degree doesn’t mean much if she doesn’t find a job, Jean pointed out sternly. I guess she’s just too lazy.

Not to contradict you, but I’ve actually seen her work on her dissertation, he said. Your daughter is really impressive. I think she deserves credit for her work.

It’s not too hard when everything’s been handed to you, the father pointed out. Do you have children, Marshall ?

I have, Marshall replied. Three girls, actually. They’re 31, 28 and 21.

So I guess you understand the disappointment I’m facing, then. No one wishes for their daughter to fail her professional life and be in a relationship with someone who could be their father.

Y/N was staring at her plate, visibly on the verge of tears. He grabbed her hand under the table and interlaced their fingers. He stared at Jean, who had a cold expression on his face. Not approving of their relationship was one thing, but what kind of father could belittle his child in such a way ?

Look, Marshall said, I understand where you’re coming from. If one of my daughters told me they were in a relationship with someone my age, I wouldn’t be too happy. In fact, I’d probably want to punch the man in the face. But I want you to know that I have good intentions when it comes to Y/N. I love her, I care about her and I want to make her happy.

And, for my career, I’m going to send out applications as soon as I move in with Marshall, Y/N said. We have it figured out.

You are not moving in with him, Jean said.

Both him and Y/N turned their heads and stared at Jean. The way he said it sounded final. As if he were talking to a little girl. However, she was a grown woman, an adult and she didn’t need to ask for permission. In fact, the whole meeting was more of a courtesy rather than an actual obligation. Marshall would gladly remind him, but it was not his place and he knew it. His girlfriend said something to her father, in french. Her tone was soft, at first, as it was most of the time when she talked to people, but as the conversation kept on going, it got more animated. Jean was talking loudly and he could see his girl having trouble being assertive. However, she said something that prompted her father to slap her, before screaming something. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Marshall got up and threw his fist in the other man’s face. It was bad enough that he was making Y/N feel bad, but he would not get away with hitting her.

YOU PIECE OF SHIT ! Marshall screamed as he grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to get up and shoved him against the nearest wall. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH HER!

The man was taller than him but he was in such a fit of rage that, unless his opponent was Mike Tyson, he could probably take out anyone. He kept on screaming, out of his mind, as the other man yelled as well, trying to get out of his hold. Lucky for him, Jean wasn’t much of a fighter. He was firmly holding him by the collar, slapping him just like he had slapped Y/N. He kept on screaming and slapping, telling him what a piece of shit he was, and how undeserving of being a father he was.

You’re fucking lucky your daughter’s in the room, Marshall finally spat. I wouldn’t beat up someone in front of their child, but I swear to God, if I see your motherfucking face one more time, I will fuck you up !

When he finally let go of Jean, the man addressed his daughter, who was still sitting at the table, in a state of shock. He yelled something in French and was about to approach her when Marshall intervened between the two of them. The man yelled something he couldn’t quite understand, still in French, before storming out of the room. Marshall closed his eyes for a second, to regain some composure. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had not been in a state of rage in a long time and the sensations felt foreign. He could feel his cheeks burning. He took a few deep breaths to try and soothe himself. If he didn’t, he might as well chase him down the corridor and strangle him. Seeing him slap Y/N had brought back memories of being abused as a child. His mother had never hit him too much, but the same couldn’t be said of some of her boyfriends. He had always sworn that if he witnessed it, he would intervene and make sure the person regretted their action. Didn’t matter who or when.

When he opened his eyes, they landed on Y/N, who was silently sobbing, face in her hands. For a quick second, he had almost forgotten about her. He immediately went to her, to make sure she was alright. He kneeled by her side and tried to grab her hands, so that he could examine her face. As he tried to touch her, she jerked and looked at him with terror on her face. Suddenly, it hit him : he was the one that scared her. The realization was enough to make his heart sink, as he took a step back.

Please don’t touch me, she whispered. Please.

Ok, he said softly as he held his hands up. I won’t touch you. I just need to make sure you’re alright, baby.

Tears were still streaming down her face and her chest was heaving. He had to fight against his own urges to touch her, wipe her tears and take her in his arms. He was about two feet away from her but it felt too big a distance. He looked at her cheek : the slap hadn’t left a mark. Evidently, it hadn’t been too violent. On a physical aspect, at least. He knew full well the psychological effects of such a gesture.

I didn’t mean to scare you, baby. I’m so sorry, he said softly.

Who are you ?! She blurted out. Wh-What… What did you do ?!

He sighed and looked at her face. It was crumbling, filled with doubt and uncertainty. She had never looked at him like this before. Sure, their first argument was one to remember, and she had certainly looked at him with hatred and disgust, but this look was different. It was a look of fear.

He hit you, Y/N, he said.

You hit him ! You hit my father !

Yes I did, he replied sternly. No father, hell, no parent should ever raise a hand on their child.

It’s… my fault, she said. I said something he didn’t like. I-I shouldn’t have, really. This one is on me.

So what ? He asked. I’m sorry but that doesn’t justify shit, Y/N. I’ve raised three kids, four if you count Nate. Do you know how many times they’ve been insufferable and thrown shit in my face ? A lot. But I can tell you I have never, ever lifted a finger on them. That shit is not ok.

She looked down and buried her face in her hands once again. He wasn’t sure if he should approach her or not. She seemed so distressed, he decided against it, although it broke his heart. After a minute or so, she got up and made her way to the bedroom. He followed her, making sure not to be too close.

Baby, talk to me, he said softly.

Please, no, she said. I need… I need a minute.

He nodded and she went to the bathroom. He heard the lock click. He sighed and sat on the bed. He absolutely did not regret his actions. For all he cared, Jean could sue him, he didn’t give a shit about it. What worried him was what Y/N would think of him. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as someone violent by the person he loved the most. He heard the water running and figured she would take some time. He went back to the living room area and grabbed a can of coke. God knew he needed a sugary drink. The wine bottle was still on the table, half full, as well as the plates of their meal. To be fair, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He sat on the couch and let his head fall back against the headrest as he tried to think of how he would possibly navigate the situation with Y/N. About forty-five minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, wearing her PJs.

Good night, she called from the bedroom.

We should talk, first, he said before joining her.

She seemed a little less distraught, though she still had a frown on her face. She was getting under the cover when he sat on the edge of the bed.

How are you feeling, babe ? He asked carefully.

I don’t know, she said. I’m not even sure how I am supposed to feel.

Did he hurt you ? How is your cheek ?

I-It’s fine, she said. I’m just… I don’t even know how to say it. But you… You were… Terrifying.

I am so sorry, my love, he said. I didn’t mean to scare you. But I saw him hit you, and I lost it.

It wasn’t you, she said. It was someone who looks like you, but it’s not you, Marshall. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re not this angry, scary person.

Well it was me, he sighed. I hate that you had to see me like this. I hate that side of me. I used to be this very angry person but I worked on it. It takes a lot for me to get angry like this, you know ?

You were so intimidating, she said. Suddenly, you were yelling, a-and you were slapping my dad… And I couldn’t help but think “that’s not him, that’s not my boyfriend, that’s not the man I am moving in with”...

He sighed and took his head in his hands. He said nothing for a couple of seconds before looking at her.

I am so sorry, Y/N. I keep on saying that, but it’s true. I need you to know that I would never do that shit to you, he said. I know it must have been very scary for you, especially because you have never seen me like this before, but I want you to know that I would never, ever scream at you like this, let alone lay a finger on you.

I know, she whispered. But… He is my father. And you hit him.

He is your father, he replied. And he hit you. And I am not ok with that. I am not ok with anyone hitting their child, ever. I am not ok with him hitting you, and especially not in front of me. I… Fuck. Has he always been violent like this ? Was he abusive to you ?

No, she said. He is not like that. I mean, yes he is, but he usually isn’t that bad.

Meaning ?

He has always been really tough on me, she said. Really strict. But he never really hit me. Maybe once, when I was a teenager. But it’s never been a habit, you know ? But it’s my fault, I swear.

How is that your fault ? He asked. How is your father hitting you, your fault ?

Because I stood up to him, she said sheepishly. And I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t respectful and I shouldn’t have.

What did you say ?

I said… I said that I wasn’t asking for his opinion and that I was old enough to do whatever I wanted, she explained. And then, he said that I was his biggest disappointment and I should be thankful for everything he did for me. And when I said I didn’t care he… he slapped me. So you see, it’s my fault.

He shook his head and sighed. Her thinking it was her fault was wrong on so many levels. At least, he was relieved to know that he hadn’t been violent to her when she was growing up. Everyone was not that lucky. However, the fact that a fifty-something man was not able to handle the fact that his grown-ass daughter was making her own choices and slapped her when she stood up for herself was frankly appalling. So was the fact that Y/N didn’t seem to realize that.

Arguing with your parents, it happens, he said. Even if you had been super disrespectful, which I don’t think you were, him laying a finger on you would not be ok, babe. And I’m not even going to get started on the fact that he’s been belittling you all evening.

He was always like this, you know ? She explained. I was never good enough. But I suppose it was his way of striving for excellence. He wanted the best for me. We don’t come from money, you know. When he was growing up, he was dirt-poor. We don’t have much, we’re typical middle-class, but he worked hard for everything and he was able to give me a good chance in life. And he single-handedly raised me. I owe him everything. He is my father. He is literally my only family.

It’s kind of his job, though, he said. As a parent, that’s literally what he is supposed to do. And I’m sorry but the fact that he comes from poverty doesn’t justify shit. I come from a poor, dysfunctional family too, I should know. I’m a father, I understand the wish for your kids to do good, but that will never be an excuse to behave the way he behaved.

She ducked her head down. He knew his words weren’t exactly what she wanted to hear, but he’d rather tell her the truth.

I can’t move back, she whispered.

What ?! He asked. Of course you can. And you should.

Marshall, no, she said. Before he left he literally told me that if I moved to Detroit, I would have to forget him and his support.

His support ?! Oh yeah, clearly he’s the most supportive person ever, Marshall said sarcastically. Before you went back to France, we knew each other for a whole year. Shall I remind you of all the times he came to visit you ? Of all the times he was here for you, during your recovery or after you were assaulted ? Oh wait, that’s right : NONE. Literally zero. That man has no idea what you’ve been through and he doesn’t see all that you’ve accomplished. You don’t get to call yourself “Dad” just because you helped make a baby. It takes more than that. So why the hell should you care about his so-called support ?!

Because I don’t have a family ! She cried. Marshall, you are the love of my life and I would follow you anywhere. And I told you I don’t care about marriage and children if I get to be with you and I meant it, but I can’t do it if it means that I am losing the only family that I have, the most important person in my life.

What kind of father would do that to his daughter ?! Do you even realize how wrong that is, Y/N ? He asked as he was starting to get worked up.

I want to be with you, Marshall. I do. But…

No « but », he said firmly. That’s bullshit and you know it. If anything, that’s one more reason why you should move. Are you seriously going to live with him after that ?!

I can’t lose my only family, she cried. You’re a family man. You understand, right ?

What I understood long ago is that you get to choose your family and who is part of it, he said. Talia and Jamal are your family. And I can be your family too. But even if that weren’t the case… would you really be willing to turn down opportunities to be happy and live your life just to please your father ?

After all, that’s all it came down to : her independence and her happiness. If she told him she’d be happier in Paris, he wouldn’t mind. It would hurt him, crush him, of course, but he would understand. But judging by what he saw tonight, her sudden reluctance had nothing to do with happiness and everything to do with her fear of disappointing her Dad. She was sobbing uncontrollably and it broke his heart. All he wanted was to make her sadness go away. If he had the choice, he’d rather take her pain so that she could be free of it.

All I’m saying is… don’t make a decision tonight, alright ? He said softly. Just like you needed to think before accepting to move back, you need to think about it. And you need to put yourself first. Not me, not your Dad, not anyone else. You.

I don’t know, she whispered in a croaky voice.

Come here, he said as he gestured for her to come in his arms.

She looked at him and had a second of hesitation, but she got out of the covers and nestled against him. He engulfed her in his embrace. He could feel her tears on his neck. They stayed like this for a while, not talking, not moving either.

I love you, he whispered in her ear. I’m so sorry you didn’t get the evening you deserved.

I love you too, she said quietly. Thank you for tonight. You really tried to make a good impression on my Dad.

Didn’t work but… Yeah, he shrugged. I tried.

I’m sorry he didn’t like you, she added. I wish he would have given you a chance. I tried telling him that you make me really happy, you know ?

I know, babe, he said softly. I don’t need his approval or any blessing from him, though. It would have been nice if we had gotten along, for sure, but as long as I have you, I don’t care. I’m good. Yours is the only approval I need.

I would be crushed if your family hated me, she pointed out. I don’t know how you do it.

Mostly, it comes down to being an ass and not giving a fuck what people think, he chuckled. You, on the other hand, care too much for your own good. But it’s ok because my family likes you. Let’s look at it this way : it’s 50% of our families that approve of us, that’s not bad, right ? Plus, if you consider the number of family members… Odds are in our favor, you know ? There’s only one of him and a lot of people in my family. And I know you like good statistics.

She chuckled for the first time all night. Her soft laugh was music to his ears. Even though her face was puffy from crying, she looked quite adorable and he could not refrain from kissing her temple. He stared into her big doe eyes and smiled at her.

Let’s try and save our evening, ok ? He offered. We could order some dessert and watch the Office.

I’m not really hungry, she said. And you hate the Office.

Hate is a strong word.

You said you hate Michael and he makes you cringe, she pointed out.

He does, but I know that Jim and Pam make your heart melt, that Jim’s pranks make you laugh your ass off and that you have a soft spot for Dwight, he said with a smile. So we can watch it. I know it’s one of your comfort shows.

You remember ? She asked surprised.

I do, he said. Six months was not enough to forget about you. Six lifetimes wouldn’t even do it. You’re still all over the house, you know ? I still have your movies in my Netflix account, bottles of that non-alcoholic wine you love in the pantry and your perfume may or may not be in my bathroom.

Really ? She asked with an emotional smile.

Really, he said. You’ll be right at home. I promise.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. He had to convince her to fly back to Detroit with him. For her sake, as well as his. They cuddled in bed, watching the stupid TV show. He could tell she was bothered and her mind was wandering, but at least she smiled at the lame jokes. Most of his attention was on her, as well as trying to find ways to get her to make the right choice. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast.

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