#after all of the fucking BULLSHIT she went through. I hope she did do that at least as much as she could. she so deserved it.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I can't stop crying off and on about this since I read the news. I hope one of the most wonderful souls to grace the planet rests peacefully. 💔😭💗

[rafeandonlyrafe]

live like a kook

words: 5.2k

the camerons take you in after your house is destroyed in a hurricane, giving you a month to live like a kook

warnings: enemies to lovers, lots of pogues vs kooks dynamic, rafe being mean to reader, reader is john bs cousin, food insecurity/mentions of going hungry, cursing

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

“dad, this is fucking ridiculous. no way am i sharing my home with a fucking pogue.” rafe argues, his voice raising higher and higher as the fight goes on.

“well, get over it rafe. we are doing our part for the community, this girls house got destroyed in the hurricane, she’s staying here for the next month. end of story.” ward says firmly, hoping to temper his sons anger before you arrive.

“bullshit, you don’t care about helping the pogues, all you want is to look like a good guy.” rafe runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. “it’s not safe. we can’t trust them, what if she steals from us?”

ward pauses. it’s something he did think about, which is why he went through the house and hid the most valuable items, locking them away in a secret safe. “you keep an eye on her then, rafe.”

it’s the end of the conversation as ward walks out of the room, even after rafe continues after him, not accepting his dads solution. wards patience with his son is about to bubble over when the doorbell rings.

ward gives rafe a pointed look to calm himself down, or at least be quiet about his disdain as he opens up the door to reveal you standing there, only carrying a backpack, fitting all of your belongings after losing almost everything in the hurricane.

“hello, mr. cameron, i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out, accepting the firm but friendly shake ward gives you.

“y/n?”

you look around ward into the house, making eye contact with a shocked rafe.

“you didn’t tell me it was- her who was going to be staying here.” rafe spits, looking at his dad, nostrils flaring in anger.

“rafe, watch yourself.” ward warns, stepping back from the door and beckoning you over the threshold.

“hi rafe.” you say quietly. you had foolishly hoped that rafe wouldn’t mind you staying here. it’s not like you ever really interact, but you know that he doesn’t get along with your cousin john b.

ward gives you a tour of the house, introducing you to rose and wheezy, and the whole time rafe stalks behind you, silent and domineering. 

���thank you again for letting me stay here.” you say when ward shows you what is to be your room for the next month, situated between rafes and sarahs, who is currently out, probably with your cousin.

“of course.” ward says. “i’ll give you some time to unpack, we are serving dinner in around an hour.” “okay.” you nod, heading into your room, shutting the door carefully behind you. you glance around the opulent bedroom, so unlike what you are used to, large sweeping curtains covering the windows, sturdy wooden furniture, and best of all, the huge bed covering most of the floor.

you drop your backpack, letting yourself flop back onto the bed, letting out a laugh when you realize that even the ceiling is beautiful. 

you weren’t sure what to expect when you got told that there were some people opening up their homes for those who lost theirs due to the hurricane, but you certainly never expected it to be the camerons, or any other rich kooks.

you’re still smiling to yourself when your door bursts open. your eyes widen as rafe takes up the entire doorway, not asking permission before barging into your room and slamming the door forcefully behind him.

“hey!” you shout, swinging your legs to the side of the bed and turning to stare at rafe. 

“shut up.” rafe warns, quickly crossing the space between the door and the bed, hovering over you. “i want to make one thing very clear.” he holds up his pointer finger, pausing as you flicker your eyes from his hand back to his face. “do not touch anything in this house. if you steal like your loser pogue cousin, i will know. i will be watching you.”

rafe doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t need to, turning and walking out of the room, leaving your door flung wide open, not bothering to even shut it behind him. you shiver at the warning, not that you planned on stealing, but you did plan on a peaceful stay here, and it seems like rafe is committed to the exact opposite.

you stand and shut your door, this time making sure to lock it.

--

“that’s screwed into the wall.” rafes voice suddenly rings down the hallway, making you jump away from the painting.

“i wasn’t going to steal it.” you grumble, crossing your arms. you were still familiarizing yourself with the house, spending some time wandering alone, but around every corner, rafe is there.

“then what were you doing staring it?” he questions.

“admiring the art, if that’s so hard to believe. yes, rafe,” you say with a sigh “even a dirty dumb pogue like me can appreciate a painting.”

“well then you don’t mind if i stand here and watch as you appreciate it.” rafe crosses his arms, muscles bulging. you turn back to the painting, looking over the landscape scene, but rafes eyes are drilling holes into you, and just like he wanted, you quickly get too frustrating, groaning and stomping away.

you head out into the garden, needing a breath of fresh air and to look upon the ocean. 

“he’s an asshole.”

you jump, not realizing wheezie was in the hammock you stopped next to.

“what?” you question.

“rafe. he’s an asshole.” “you said it, not me.” you sigh, taking the hair tie off your wrist and pulling your hair into a ponytail as the wind picks up.

“just try and avoid him when he gets in his pissy moods. he’s not like this all the time.” wheezie gives you a piece of advice as she swings her legs over the side of the hammock, heading back inside.

you watch her until she’s all the way in, before glancing up and realizing that rafe is watching you as well. your brow scrunches in anger and you turn, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you angry again.

you head towards the expansive dock, marveling at how far it stretches out into the ocean as you plop down on the wood, swinging your feet over the edge. your eyes are on the horizon as gray clouds roll in, probably a cell from the recent hurricane that broke off.

you keep your back turned to the house, not wanting to retreat yet as you watch the storm roll in, scenting the air change as the temperature drops. you wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm as the wind picks up, but the rain still hasn’t reached you yet.

you daydream about living in a house like tanneyhill. not for a month, but for your whole life. of getting out of your small cottage, now being rebuilt by your deadbeat dad, and living a life of luxury like the camerons.

strong hands grab onto your upper arms, pulling you to a standing position like you weigh nothing. “what are you doing?” rafe asks, shaking you slightly, his eyes wide with what you think might be worry.

“get off of me!” you shout, pulling yourself out of his hold.

“do you want to get yourself sick? it’s cold, and there’s a storm coming in. get inside.” rafe stares at you expectantly as the first sprinkles of rain starts to fall. you want to fight, to push back, but you also don’t want to get soaked, walking past rafe without acknowledging him as you both head into the house just before the downpour hits.

rafe doesn’t even glance at you as he pushes past, heading to his room.

--

“y/n, you wanna come with me?” sarah asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder, probably going to spend another night at john b’s. she’s been away from tanneyhill more often then she’s been here ever since you arrived.

you glance at rafe who is sitting on the couch, phone in hand. you’re not sure if he’s even paying attention to whats going on.

“sure.” you reply, “just give me a second to get changed.”

“alright, john b will be here in 5 minutes in the twinkie.” sarah heads outside to wait as you move up the stairs, taking off your leggings and opting for a pair of shorts instead, slipping your tennis shoes on.

you gasp in surprise when you open the door and run right into rafes wide chest.

“i heard you’re going to hang out with the dirty pogues.” rafe says, taking a step back when you push against his chest. you know he’s choosing to let you by, and if he wanted to he could have stood firm.

“in case you forgot, rafe-” you shoot him a pointed look as you head down the stairs. “i am one of those dirty pogues.” rafe stays put as you head outside, and you’re thankful to get some time away tanneyhill as the twinkie pulls down the street.

“hey, it’s my favorite cousin!” john b shouts when he sees you getting in along with sarah.

“john b, i’m your only cousin.” you roll your eyes, turning to watch out the window as tanneyhill disappears from view.

it’s nice to catch up with your friends and cousin, spending the afternoon relaxing and talking around a campfire. you are especially happy pope is here, always getting along so well with him.

“there they go again.” pope sighs when kiara starts to fight with jj, both of you rolling your eyes at each other, wishing they’d just work through whatever repressed feelings they have for each other.

“hey, john b, can you give me a ride back to tanneyhill?” you ask, noticing it’s start to get dark.

“aw, can’t you just stay here?” john b asks, his tongue obviously loosened by the beer he was sipping on. “i hate that my cousin is there, taking the kooks charity.” “just because you don’t want any help doesn’t mean that i can’t accept it.” you say, raising your voice. “besides, you knew our house got destroyed and you didn’t even reach out. you were too busy with sarah.”

you stomp away from the chateau, heading down the dirt driveway, determined to walk back to tanneyhill if john b wouldn’t give you a ride.

“y/n! wait!” if it was john b calling for you, you wouldn’t have stopped, but you turn to face sarah. 

“listen-” you interrupt her before she can speak. “i’m not mad at you. i’m not even mad at john b. i’ve just been through a lot and want to go ho- back to tanneyhill.” “i’m sorry.” sarah pulls you into a hug, one that you didn’t realize you needed that much. “john b’s probably too drunk to drive. i texted rafe to come pick you up.”

you sigh, trying not to let your disappointment show on your face. you really don’t want to spend time alone with rafe, but you thank her and tell her to tell rafe that you’re starting to walk so to keep an eye out on the way, figuring it would be better to distance yourself from the rest of the pogues before he got to you.

you spot rafes truck after walking for a few minutes, watching him slow to a stop before you climb into the passenger seat.

“thanks.” you whisper, not sure what else to say as rafe presses down on the gas. you expect him to turn back towards tanneyhill, but he’s driving you in a different direction.

“where are we going?” you ask.

“i doubt you ate anything good while you were with the pogues. you need to get some real food.” rafe pulls into town, finding a parking spot that would fit his truck.

“rafe, it’s okay, i’ll eat at tanneyhill.” you say, but he just gets out of the truck and walks around to your side, yanking the door open and gesturing for you to get out.

“i see what you eat at tanneyhill. it’s never real meals unless it’s what rose makes, and she’s out tonight with my dad. just come on.”

you slide out of the truck, watching rafes back as he walks away, expecting you to follow. you stay a few feet behind him until rafe turns into a restaurant, again holding the door open for you as you duck inside. it’s not one you’ve been to before, probably because it’s out of your price range.

“just the two of you?” the hostess asks. rafe nods in response, and you’re quickly shown back to a table.

“rafe, i-i can’t afford this.” you say when looking at the menu. you can’t even afford just an appetizer. 

“you don’t think i know that, pogue?” rafe rubs his brow. “i’ve got it, just eat, please.”

you study the menu, opting for a simple chicken and fries, along with mozzarella sticks. afterall, rafe is paying. he orders a burger for himself, not even glancing at the waitress who took your orders, like she's beneath him.

“did ward put you in charge of me or something?” you ask after sitting in an awkward silence for a few minutes, waiting on your food to be brought out.

“i don’t want to be sharing a house with someone who is sick because they refuse to eat right.” rafe says. “i don’t want to find you passed out because you didn’t get enough food.” rafe leans back in his chair, glancing over you. “that would just be an inconvenience.”

“ah.” you nod, keeping your eyes on the empty place in front of you until your food is brought out. your stomach growls at the smell, not realizing how hungry you truly were, so used to going all day without a true proper hot meal, surviving on snacks and whatever else you could find.

you dig into your food, moaning when the melted cheese enters your mouth after biting down on the mozzarella stick.

“hey!” you shout when rafe reaches across the table and takes one of the sticks, biting the end of it off. 

rafe just grins at you while chewing, making you shake your head in laughter. you continue eating your meal, not even realizing that you just had a nice moment with rafe until later that night when you’re laying in bed, reflecting on your evening with rafe. he didn’t make a big fuss when paying for the bill, simply sat his credit card down and didn’t mention how you were broke, then drove you back to the house and bid you goodnight upon entering tanneyhill.

you press your cold fingers to your cheeks, willing them to settle down as you shift underneath the covers, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, reminding yourself that one nice thing doesn’t mean rafe doesn’t hate you, afterall, like he said himself, he just doesn’t want you to be an inconvenience.

--

“mr. cameron, i really don’t want to impose!” you say, but ward just shakes his head. “nonsense, y/n. you’re coming with us.”

“let me help you with your hair, dear, come on.” rose ushers you towards her bedroom. you give wheezie a pleading look, but there’s nothing that she can say to get you out of going to midsummers, not now that ward is determined to have you come with them, showing off how generous and charitable he is by taking you in.

you sit still as rose patiently straightens your wavy hair, only to recurl it, pinning sections up until it’s mostly swept out of your face besides for a few face framing strands, then cascading down your back.

“rose-” you breath catches in the mirror. “you did amazing, thank you.” you turn to look at the woman. “i’ve never had my hair done like this before.” “you look beautiful, y/n. it’s a pleasure to have you with our family tonight. i think sarah is in her bedroom doing her makeup, maybe she can put some on you too.”

you nod and head towards sarahs room. you didn’t want to go at first and be surrounded by kooks, but now that you have no choice, you might as well enjoy feeling beautiful for one night. sarah already leant you a dress, but she agrees to do your makeup as well, keeping it light and fresh before helping you sort out putting on the dress.

you look in the mirror at yourself, unable to resist twirling, the fluttery skirt of the dress billowing up on the bottom. 

“girls, it’s time to leave!” you hear ward call, and you finish off the outfit with a flower crown of pale pink flowers to match your dress before rushing out of the room.

you head down the stairs, gripping the railing so you don’t stumble in your borrowed heels. 

rafe looks up, ready to chastise you for taking so long, when his breath catches in his throat, eyes going wide.

“not too bad for a pogue, huh?” you question.

“you look…” rafe trails off, his soft expression quickly being replaced with an angry one, stomping out of the room without finishing his sentence. you resist the urge to chase after him.

you don’t see rafe until hours later. you’ve been paraded in front of all of ward and roses country club friends, but you just put on a smile and boast about their generosity. you’re not sure if anyone can see through the fakeness, but ward seems pleased, and finally lets you stop mingling to rest your tired feet.

you watch the crowd from the camerons reserved head table, feeling like such an outsider, knowing this isn’t where you belong, and if you weren’t scrubbed clean and dressed like them, the kooks would be turning their nose up at you. at least rafe is decent enough to not try and hide his hatred behind a nice face.

you spot rafe in the crowd, whisky glass in hand as he talks to his friends, a bright smile on his face that gives you a funny feeling in your chest. you rub the spot with your hand, willing it to go away as people clear out from standing on the dance floor as the music starts, a few brave couples being the first one to begin swaying to the music. 

you watch as ward and rose dance, eyebrows raising up when they turn their attention to you. “y/n, come on!” 

you consider ruining having a place to stay and sleeping on the street tonight, but you’ve put on a good act so far, you can continue it for a bit longer. you smile and walk over to them, expecting to be shoved into the arms of some random kook boy, but instead you’re ushered to rafe.

“dance, you two!” rose calls, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter.

rafe holds his hand out, looking at you expectantly. you hesitate to place your hand in his, making rafe sigh. 

“you don’t know how to dance, do you pogue?” he questions.

“maybe i just don’t want to with you.” you place your hand in his, letting him tug you closer, his other hand resting against your waist while you grab onto his shoulder. you follow rafes lead, matching your footsteps with his as he sways you around the floor, glad the song is soft and gentle so you can just move slowly.

“see, this isn’t so bad.” rafe says, looking down at you.

“could be worse i suppose.” you hum, keeping your gaze straight forward at rafes chest as the song comes to an end.

the lights dim, and a romantic song comes on. you go to pull away from rafe, but he keeps you close to him, wrapping both arms around your waist and leaving you no choice but to put your arms around his shoulders.

you look to see all the other couples pressed close together, women with their head against their mens chest, some even kissing in the low lighting.

“just relax.” rafe whispers. “you’re so tight you’re gonna snap.”

you let your body relax in his hold, not realizing that you were clenching almost every muscle in your body. your head falls against rafes chest as you dance, letting yourself close your eyes and be swept away in the loving lyrics of the song, once again daydreaming about if this was actually your life.

the song ends far sooner than you’d like, and the lights brighten again. the crowd claps for a moment, but you’re locked into rafes arms, both of you now standing completely still. you can hear his steady heartbeat against your cheek, his breathing slow and deliberate.

“you look beautiful tonight.” rafe says, making you jump, almost forgetting who you are, and who he is. “that’s what i didn’t say earlier.” rafe clarifies, face falling when you look up at him in horror. you pull away from his arms, instantly missing his warmth as you run as fast as your heels can carry you out of the crowd, needing to get away from the music and the man.

you look down at your borrowed dress. you would rip it off or roll in dirt if you didn’t have to give it back to sarah, hating that this is what rafe finds beautiful. when you’re primped up to look like one of them, not the real you.

you find a dark corner to sit in until the party starts to disperse, and when you find the cameron family again, rafe isn’t with them, and no one mentions it as you pile in the car to head back to tanneyhill.

--

“are you sure you don’t want to come out on the boat with us, y/n?” wheezie asks you, but you shake your head.

“i’m okay, i’ll just stay back and read. i don’t want to impose, enjoy some time as a family.” you can tell already from being at the camerons for three weeks that they rarely do things as a family, at least one person, usually rafe or sarah, being left out.

“alright, i guess it’s you and rafe staying home. lets go!” ward calls, ushering the girls out of the room.

“wait, what?” you call, but they’re already out the door. you thought for sure rafe was going with him. you haven’t spoken a single word to each other in the past three days since midsummers. he’s barely even been around, you’ve just caught glimpses as he left for the day or came home.

you make a late breakfast for yourself, deciding since you’re basically home alone to fry up some bacon. you’re too nervous to use the kitchen for anything more than grabbing a quick snack when rose or ward are home.

you hum to yourself as the oil sizzles in the pan, finishing cooking your meal when you hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

“rose, is that bacon?” rafe calls, entering into the kitchen with just a pair of basketball shorts on, freezing when he sees you.

“they all left.” you say, swallowing and resisting the urge to let your eyes track all over his torso. “but um, i made extra if you want some.” “yeah, let me just put a shirt on.” rafe walks away and you take the opportunity to fan your face, dividing the bacon up between two plates and sitting down at the counter, starting to eat when rafe rejoins you in the room.

you both eat side by side in silence, and you’re glad to not be talking. you finish your food, going to put your plate in the dishwasher when rafe takes it from you and does it for you.

“thanks.” you say under your breath, going to turn away when rafe clears his throat. “what is it?” you question, voice coming out harsher than you meant it to.

“i’m going to golf today. did you want to come with me?” rafe asks, not meeting your gaze.

“i- i don’t know how to golf.” you say as your way of refusal.

“right.” rafe nods, letting his shoulders drop.

“dirty pogue, remember?” you question.

rafe doesn’t say another word, he doesn’t even look at you as he leaves the room. you watch him walk away before closing yourself in your room, only moving to peek out the window when you hear his truck start up, watching it speed away from the house.

--

“y/n, you have a visitor.” ward says, ushering you towards the front room. you stand up, confused, not sure who would be visiting. it’s not like you have any friends who would come to tanneyhill.

“dad!” you shout in surprise, seeing him standing in the foyer, looking out of place in his dirty shorts and tank top.

“hey, y/n.” he says casually, like it hasn’t been four weeks since he saw you last, shipping you off to stay with a kook while he fixed up the hurricane damage on your house.

“what are you doing here?” you question, looking to the base of the stairs where rafe is stood on the bottom steps, arms crossed and watching the interaction with a scowl on his face.

“i finished fixing up the house enough for you to come home.” 

“oh.” you nod. you’d completely forgotten in your time here that you were only staying for a month, and that of course your dad would be here to collect you. “let me just get my things.” you force yourself to turn away and rush up the stairs, letting a few tears slip. you don’t want to go back to staying in a broken down house, and you especially don’t want to stay with your dad, having to fend for yourself completely while he spends all your money on drinks at the bar, not even leaving you enough for food.

you head into your room, wiping away tears as you shove things into your bag, including some clothes sarah was going to donate but she gave to you instead.

you control your breathing and stop your tears before you head downstairs, making eye contact with rafe as you walk down, unable to read the emotion on his face.

“thank you again, mr and mrs cameron for letting me stay here.” you say politely, and the both pull you into awkward hugs. 

“and bye, wheezie.” you squeeze the teenager against you, whispering a promise to come back and hang out.

you turn to rafe as your father walks out the door. you can’t find any words, so you simply turn and leave.

--

“dad, i need to buy food.” you argue. “i’m starving!” “you just want to pig out on fast food! we have things here you can eat!” your dad slurs his words, gesturing to the broken down kitchen. there wasn’t as much done in the month that you were gone that you were hoping for. he’s cleaned up the hurricane damage in most of the rooms, but tree that fell onto your bedroom is still there, simply hidden by a closed door, relegating you to sleeping on the old couch.

you curse as your dad stumbles into his bedroom, opening the kitchen cabinets to look for something edible before landing on a packet of saltine crackers.

you take the packet outside along with a water bottle, needing to get away from that house and your father. you sit down on the swing hanging from a high tree branch, crunching on the crackers as you listen to the birds chirping.

the mockingbirds song is interrupted by the rumble of an engine, and you turn towards your driveway, shooting up to stand when you recognize the truck getting closer.

you walk towards the truck, confused at why rafe is here, wondering if maybe you left something at tanneyhill, but it’s already been two weeks since you left. maybe he only just now bothered to return it.

rafe gets out of the truck, his eyes wide as he takes you in.

“how are you already so skinny?” rafe questions, taking the saltine cracker out of your hand and looking at it with disdain. “is this all you have to eat?”

“rafe, what are you doing here?” you question, snatching the precious cracker back.

“i-fuck!” rafe runs both his hands through his hair, “i was worried! and look at you! is he feeding you at all?” “rafe, calm down. you’ll wake him up.” you try and shush him, but it just makes rafe angrier.

“wake him up? does he hurt you? y/n.” rafe grips your upper arms, staring you straight in the eye, needing to know if what he suspects is true.

“what? no, rafe. he just drinks then passes out, he’s never hit me.” you’re still confused why rafe is even here. 

“get in the truck, i’m getting you food.” rafe demands, and your mind says no, but your rumbling stomach has your feet moving. you climb into the passenger side, looking at your broken down home thats truly no more than a shack. you wonder what rafe must feel seeing it as he gets in and starts the truck, backing out of the driveway.

you bring your knees up to your chest, letting your head fall as you sob silently. rafe doesn’t realize that you’re crying until your body starts to shake. he stops the truck in the middle of the dirt road, not caring if it blocks anyone else.

“y/n?” rafe questions, unsure how to get you to stop crying, worrying that it’s his fault.

“i don’t wanna go back there.” you admit, looking up at rafe, letting him see the messy state you’re in.

“fuck it.” rafe sighs, unbuckling both of your seatbelts and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his strong arms around you as you press your face into his shoulder, letting your tears run free, not caring about the wet stains you’re making on his clothes.

“it’s okay.” rafe rubs his hand up and down your back. “you don’t have to go back there. you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. i’m here.”

you cry harder, wrapping your arms around rafes waist, keeping yourself close to him, letting yourself find comfort in his arms.

“i’m here, y/n.” rafe whispers, pressing a kiss to your head.

you look up at him, tears still flowing down your face. “why? why are you here?” “i told you…” rafe cups your cheek, trying to wipe away the tears but they just keep flowing. “i was worried. i had to come check on you… please stop crying.”

rafes words do nothing to stop the deluge, and he’s starting to freak out, hating seeing you so upset, knowing you need some sort of distraction as your breathing speeds up, starting to hyperventilate until rafes lips are pressed against your own.

you’re momentarily confused, hesitating for a split second before kissing back, letting rafe dominate your mouth as you concede, the tears slowing to a stop as he keeps kissing you.

“rafe!” you gasp when he pulls away. “you just kissed me.” “i know.” rafe wipes his palms over your cheeks, and this time theres no fresh tears to replace it. “i care about you y/n. it’s why i came. i missed you.”

“oh, rafe.” you lean forward, letting him hug you tight, squeezing your bodies together.

“i’m here.” rafe whispers again, not letting you spiral, reminding you as many times as it takes that you’re not alone, that you have him now.

“now,” rafe gives your forehead a kiss, “we need to get you some real food. what are you hungry for? pizza?”

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part four.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

word count: 2602.

there's angst but it's resolved with fluff i promise!

summary: you had confessed, finally, but it was a mistake. so you walk and you walk. then you walk right back to spencer, like you always do.

a/n: i was going to take a break but i'm doing fairly well today and should be able to finish the fic tn at work! :D i went to the gym this morning and i'm just in an all around better mood hehe.

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

You just kept walking. Not having your phone meant you had to listen to the sounds of the city while you wandered, and soon enough the sun was dipping behind the buildings. You were barely sure of where you were at, and you really hoped you could find your way back to the office without your phone. God, what have you done? You ruined your friendship with your soulmate. There was no reason to deny yourself that line of thinking – soulmates – because whether he returned your feelings or not, you knew that’s what he was. And your feelings were out in the open now, anyway. He was your soulmate, handcrafted to love you. Your atoms were within centimeters of each other during the Big Bang, and all these millennia later, you had ruined what the universe had so kindly set up for you. All because you word vomited instead of waiting.

The image of Spencer’s tears was burned into your brain. How dejected he had looked. The entire time you had been walking you had refused to dwell, refused to think about it. But you were walking back to reality, to the office, and, most importantly, to him. You had to face your mistake eventually. Hopefully Ian and Anthony wouldn’t mind you taking a week off. You needed it. There would be no HR relationship papers to sign, no meetings with the four of you to discuss your new relationship. There would be no soft launch, no hard launch. No launch at all. Except maybe your heart into a fucking trench. 

One-sided soulmates had to be a thing. Because even if Spencer didn’t want you, didn’t see the same things you saw, didn’t believe in soulmates, the truth of the matter was that he was yours. There’s not another person on this godforsaken earth that understands you the way he does. No one else who can see through all your bullshit quite like him. No one else who would answer your call or FaceTime on the first ring every time, or text you back within 30 seconds, religiously. No one to cook for, no one to stay up with till the wee hours watching reruns of fucking Family Guy. You had thrown it all down the drain, your heart with it.

As you walked back in the general direction you believed the office to be in, you finally let your mind wander. You shouldn't have left. You knew that. But you had spilled your heart, and he was crying. Whether those were happy tears, or sad tears, you just couldn’t stand to look at it. You had never made him cry before, from sadness or otherwise.

//

Spence POV

“I’m sorry, I’m… I’ll go.” And they did. Y/N ripped their hands from Spencer’s, and bolted for the door. They were gone.

They didn't even give him time to react. Spencer realized he had started crying, despite him not giving his body permission, and knew that was the reason they launched out of the hallway. 

He heard the door alarm ding, signaling that someone had left. He just hoped it wasn't you.

Spencer willed his feet to move, booking it down the hall after his best friend. But you were gone.

“Where did Y/N go? Did you see?” He asked Kiana, who had been standing in the lobby. 

She wrapped him in a hug, and he just let it all out. Sobbing in the middle of his workplace was not a good look, especially at his age, but he couldn’t keep it in. She led them down to an empty meeting room, sitting him down on the couch and hugging him tightly.

“Spencer, what happened?”

He tried to speak, but his throat was tight with sadness and anger, and he could only cry.

“It’s okay, let it out. Take your time, I'm right here. Do you need anything? Excedrin, another Kickstart? Another hug?” Kiana was rubbing his back softly, doing her best to help him without overwhelming him.

Spencer shook his head, still not able to find his words. After a few more moments of tears, he grabbed a tissue from the table next to him and got into it. “Y/N told me they loved me. That they’re in love with me. I started crying, I guess, and when they saw they just… ran. They said they shouldn't have told me while we were at work, but that they couldn’t hold it in anymore. And I swear, Kiana, I was only crying because I was so fucking happy. You know how I feel about them, how in love with them I’ve been for so long. And I no sooner find out they feel the same, and they're gone. I’m kinda freakin’ out, man.” He took a breath, attempting to calm himself down a bit more. “I can't lose them, Kiana. I can't, they're my fucking soulmate, they're all I’ve wanted for so long, and it was ripped out of my hands as soon as I had it. I’m scared, I’m really scared. Terrified. I wasn't crying because I was mad, I was elated. But I didn't even have a chance to change their mind. They’re just… gone.”

The tears started back up, and Kiana hugged him once more. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. They’re not gone, Spencer. They're probably just as overwhelmed as you are, and needed a minute. That’s all. Give Y/N some time to cool off and sort their brain out, okay? Let them process this, and then they’ll be back and you guys can talk. If Y/N has really felt this way just as long as you have, that was probably a really big and scary thing for them. And when you're doing big, scary things, a reaction like tears could be misconstrued. I’m sure everything will be fine once they cool off.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Spencer supplied, wiping at his tears with another tissue. “But I really don't know how I’m going to be able to get any actual work done just sitting and waiting for them to get back.” His tears had finally come to an end, and he was working on steadying his breathing so he could stay calm. 

Kiana and Spencer sat in silence for a few minutes, Kiana giving him little pep talks here and there and Spencer blowing his nose now and again. When the room felt a little lighter, Spencer was the one to break the silence.

“You know, I was planning on telling them soon. I was trying to figure out how I wanted to do it. They actually took some of the words right out of my mouth. It’s so tiring to come to work everyday and pretend I haven't been dreaming about them, pretend I haven't been missing their cooking and our hang outs. And I know I'm the one who pulled back first, I know I was the one who fucked everything up these past few weeks. I pulled back, I stopped being so touchy, I stopped inviting them over. That was my doing. But I thought I was protecting them. Or myself. I don't know anymore, I guess. I just really want my best friend back, in any capacity. If I ruined everything, so be it, I just need them to be in my life. At the very least as a friend.” He shuffled in his seat, suddenly filled with energy. “Kiana, I love them so much. What if I ruined it all?”

“You didn't, Spencer.” Kiana gripped his shoulders, needing him to hear her words. “Emotions are hard, but you have to feel them to get through them. And so does Y/N. Let them have their time to process, like we’re doing now, and in no time everything will be fixed. You just have to be patient. You’ve waited eight years so far, you can wait another hour or two, right?” 

This evoked a laugh from Spencer, which felt nice. He wanted to laugh with Y/N again. “Yeah, yeah I guess I can wait another hour. Two hours is too far though!”

//

Spencer sat at his desk, phone face down since Y/N didn't take theirs when they left, a post-it note placed precariously over the time on his laptop. He couldn’t linger on how long it had been since they had left. They’d be back, and they would work this out. He just had to be patient.

Luckily, no one had come over to try and talk to him. He guessed that seeing a grown man break down sobbing in public was enough for everyone to realize he needed a bit of space. He got a few Slack messages of people sending him their thoughts, which made him happy. He didn’t respond to any of them. He couldn’t find it in himself to put a happy face on and thank them for their concern, tell them he’s okay. Because in the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay again.

Deep in his own head, after far longer than he realized, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Y/N.

Spencer shot out of his chair and hugged them, the tears coming back even stronger. “Y/N, please don’t leave me like that again. I’m sorry I scared you when I started crying,” he took a breath, still hugging his soulmate harder than was necessary. “And I’m sorry I’m crying now. I need you to know I’m only crying because I’m so fucking happy, I promise. I promise you, Y/N, they’re happy tears. I love you.”

Y/N hadn’t spoken a word, but he could feel them sobbing quietly into his shoulder. It was late enough in the day that most people had left, and he knew the pod was empty save for them. He cradled their head with his right hand, his left hand rubbing circles into the small of their back. “I love you, Peach, you know I love you. More than you think, more than you know, more than you love me. I’ve loved you every day for eight years, and I will love you until the light leaves my fucking eyes. Even after that. I’m so sorry I scared you off, I love you, my peach, I love you.”

Y/N broke the hug, a bubble of laughter erupting from them. “I guess it’s your turn to word vomit, huh?” As they both wiped at their eyes, Y/N laughed again. “Oh, I’m sorry. I snotted on your jacket. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“I’ll forgive you for anything, Y/N.”

“Can you forgive me for dropping that bomb on you and immediately running away?”

“Only if you promise me that you meant it.”

“Of course I meant it, Spinner.” You pulled out a nickname, one you hadn’t used for months, knowing that would calm him a bit. “I love you, with every fiber of my stupid being. And I’m sorry I left you like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky.”

You did your secret pinky swear handshake, where once the pinkies are wrapped, the person making the promise places a kiss on the other person’s hand. “I love you, Peach.”

“I love you, Spence. Always will.”

//

Reader POV

After such a painful yet wonderful day, you were ready for a calm night. You wanted to see Spencer, of course, but you knew you both needed some time apart to think about how this was all going to play out. Are you going to tell the fans? Are you going to change how you interact on camera? If you don’t tell the fans, would he be down to give them hints in videos or on Instagram stories? How long did you guys have to wait to move in together? You weren’t even technically dating yet, you had only professed your love for one another.

You should probably slow down. This was all still new, anyway. You both had forever to figure it out, luckily.

You fiddled with your keys till you got your apartment door open, ready to draw a nice, hot bath and destress in the tub. You dropped your bag off on your couch and headed to your bathroom.

God, you looked like shit. Your eyes were red from all the tears and emotions, you had a raging migraine, your dark circles were the worst you’d ever seen them. You set about washing your face, started the bath, and lit your favorite candles. You turned the lights off, turned your playlist on, and undressed.

You sunk into the heat, your muscles letting the tension seep slowly out of them, and reflected on today’s events.

You were extremely happy to have worked everything out in one day. You were aware of how lucky you and Spencer were. Friends to lovers has its perks, you guess. You were so scared that you would have to be without him for much, much longer. Any time away from him was excruciating, though you’d never let him know that. He’d bully you endlessly if he knew how attached you were. Though you supposed he felt the same way, since he loved you just as much as you loved him.

What a fucking day. You hummed along to the end of a Daft Punk song, sinking deeper into the water. Breathless came on next. Entirely unconsciously, you shot up. You splashed some water on the floor in the process, but your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Ugh,” you groaned to your empty bathroom, “Leave me breathless indeed.”

Willing your heart to slow to a normal pace, you decided your bath was over. You just wanted to lay down and decompress. As you were toweling off, you heard a knock at the door.

It wasn’t so late that a visitor would be a problem, but you also had way too fucking busy of a day to hang out with anyone right now. You stood still, silent, hoping they’d just leave you be. You can catch up with whoever it is once your brain and heart are done reeling from the nonsense of your day.

You waited a couple more seconds, silence falling across your apartment. You let out a breath, and then it caught in your throat when you heard the doorknob. You raced to put a shirt and shorts on, not caring about your looks considering someone was trying to break into your home.

You ran to grab a makeshift weapon from the hall when your door swung open. You nearly screamed, but it was Spencer. You had forgotten he had a key.

“Whoa, Y/N. You okay?” Spencer ran to you, clearly catching that you were freaking out a bit.

“I should beat you, Charles Spencer Agnew, how dare you not warn me!”

Spencer threw his hands up in mock surrender, backing away a little. “In all fairness, I texted you. You didn’t respond but I saw on Find My Friends that you were home and I just got worried, I guess.” He rubbed the nape of his neck, sheepish. “I know that today was… a lot. And I know you tend to isolate yourself when you experience big things. I don’t know, I guess I was just scared I was going to lose you twice in one day, you know?” 

You closed the distance between you and your best friend, wrapping him in a hug. He hugged back, tight. “You’ll never lose me, Spence. Ever. Not even if you want to.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 19: Did You Mean That?

Joel confronts your shared past and potential future. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 18, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 6.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

Joel was frozen for longer than he was proud of, staring at the place you’d left him. 

I fucking heard you. 

What the fuck did that even mean? Heard what? 

He looked back toward Sarah’s room. He shouldn’t just leave her here by herself but he considered it all the same. He’d just… he’d go after you, make you talk to him like he should have done all those years ago. He wasn’t going to just let you disappear again, not this time. 

Instead, he called you, still standing on his front stoop, still considering chasing after you. It rang twice but then you sent him to voicemail. 

“Fuck!” 

His grip got tight on the phone but he resisted the urge to hurl the phone at the brick of his house. 

“Dad?” Sarah peered at him from around the doorway, her eyes somehow seeming especially wide. 

He sighed. 

“Yes, baby girl.” 

“You and Aunt Goldie were really in a fight, huh.” 

He sighed again, looking at his daughter even though it only made him feel worse. She loved you so much, you were the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother and Joel had fucked that up, too. 

“It’s… it’s complicated, baby girl,” he said. “C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s getting late, you should get ready for bed…” 

“But,” she huffed. “Dad, it’s Goldie. You can’t just let her leave, she’s family!” 

“I know,” he said, a hand on her back as he guided her back inside. “Not gonna just let her go, don’t worry. I just… need to figure out what to do first, OK?” 

“Promise you’re not going to just not talk again for years?” She asked, looking up at him. “Because - sorry, Dad - that was bullshit.” 

“Hey,” he said. “Language.” 

“Dad.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re right. It was bullshit.” 

He texted you while Sarah got ready for bed but you left him on read and he ground his teeth. He read his daughter a chapter from a book and resisted her begging to have him read another one before tucking her in, thankful that she still wanted him to do this at all. 

“Hey Dad?” She said as he went to leave. 

“Yes, baby girl?” 

“You’re going to talk to her, right?” 

He sighed. She sounded so hopeful. 

“I’ll fix it,” he said. “Promise. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” she said, sounding more relaxed. 

He closed the door behind him and went to the living room, pacing for a moment. 

I fucking heard you. 

He tried to remember the conversation with Ricky all those years ago, not something he’d really thought about in so long. 

Other things from that small window of time had dominated Joel’s memory. He remembered trying to find the words to talk to you, trying to come up with a plan for every possible outcome. If you wanted him, too, then he would figure out a way to be there for Tommy and his mom from afar and go with you. If, heaven forbid, you were pregnant, he would do everything to make sure you could still go to school and still be everything you were meant to be while he took care of the rest. If you wanted nothing to do with him… that had been the one scenario he hadn’t come up with a solution for. Of course, that had been the one he’d been left to reckon with. 

He remembered how he felt then, how desperate he’d been. But he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said to fucking Ricky, something that had apparently stuck out in your mind so much that you’d moved across the country without a fucking word. He went over it again and again but couldn’t remember it, even though it felt like his fucking life depended on it. 

Eventually he tried to call you again but it only rang once before you sent him to voicemail. 

He listened to your outgoing message, bright and cheery, flexing his hand again and again as he waited, impatiently, for the beep. 

“Goldie,” he said when it finally let him record a message. “Not letting you walk out, I’m gonna keep calling. Just… pick up, baby. Please.” 

He hung up and immediately called again. Two rings, then voicemail. He called again. 

The fourth time, you finally answered, your voice sharp and harsh. 

“What!” You snapped. “What more do you want from me?” 

“I want to talk to you,” he said, straining to keep calm. “I don’t know what you mean, I don’t remember what the fuck you’re talking about, I…” 

You laughed once, derisively. 

“Of course you don’t,” you said. “You wouldn’t, would you? Because I was always just another girl to you, wasn’t I? Why would you remember…” 

“No,” he cut you off. “No, that’s not…” 

“I need some space, Joel,” you said. 

“I’m not losing you again, Goldie,” he said, harsher than he really meant to. “Please, let me just…” 

“If you don’t want to lose me then do what I’m asking you to do,” you said. “I need space, OK? I can’t just do this with you, I can’t… just don’t call me or text me or whatever, just give me some time.” 

“Goldie…” 

“I mean it, Joel,” you said. “I need space.” 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine,” he said. “I…I can do that.” 

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll talk to later.” 

“Will you?” He asked, probably rougher than he should have. 

“Eventually,” you said. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick. “Yeah, OK.” 

You hung up and he sighed, sinking onto the couch and cradling his head in his hands for a moment. 

He was on the edge of losing you again, he could feel it. He couldn’t let it happen, not this time. He started thinking again, just like he had all those years ago, trying to think up contingency plans and ways to work through this without you leaving but, really, that’s what it always came back to. He’d do anything - he’d never touch you again, he’d tolerate your shitbag husband, he’d watch you live a life he was agonizingly separate from - if it just meant that you stayed. 

Joel got himself a drink, which quickly became two and then three, staring at the ceiling, wondering just how long he was supposed to stay away from you this time before he passed out on the couch. 

When he woke up the next day, time seemed to crawl. He couldn’t just ignore you.  You were in everything, it seemed. Sarah showed him the books you’d gotten her, excited about reading them. He reviewed his business plan again and again, looking at your notes in the margins. He put on a Longhorns t-shirt and remembered you sitting at his kitchen table, building out your syllabus for the year. 

Even Tommy noticed a difference when he was at work on Tuesday, seemingly short tempered and impatient. 

“You gonna tell me who pissed in your Cheerios or you gonna leave that a mystery?” Tommy asked as they leaned against his truck during a coffee break. 

“What do you mean?” Joel frowned, staring down at the paper cup and thinking about how you took your coffee and wondering what was he supposed to do with that knowledge if you were just gone now.

“I mean you’ve been biting people’s heads off all week,” Tommy said. “I mean, you’re always an asshole but you’ve been in rare form man.” 

“Tommy…” 

“Don’t feed me some bullshit, either,” he interrupted him. “Know you too well for that.” 

Joel looked at Tommy for a moment before he sighed and it all came spilling out of him - prom night, what had been happening between the two of you the last few months, the moment in his kitchen, what you’d yelled at him over the weekend, all of it. 

“Jesus,” Tommy said when he was done, just blinking at him, dumbfounded. “I… fuck, man. I always thought there was something between you two but… holy shit.” 

“I don’t know what the fuck it is she’s talking about,” Joel said. “I talked with Ricky back then but fuck if I can remember what it was about, that was more than a decade ago, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

“I mean… do you know how she feels?” Tommy asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah,” Joel scoffed. “Yeah, I think she’s made that perfectly fuckin’ clear.” 

“Has she?” Tommy said. “Because - and maybe you just didn’t mention it - but I don’t think you actually talked about it. Ever. Not once.” 

Joel frowned, looking at the ground, going over everything in his mind. 

That couldn’t be right, could it? 

It sure seemed like you’d talked about it. Maybe not explicitly, but everything you’d said pointed to you seeing him as a friend. You said you wanted to be with someone you could love and that wasn’t him. The first time he’d slept with you again, you asked him not to call you baby and he’d all but begged you to let him. He’d had to fucking comfort you the morning after the concert, tell you that it didn’t mean anything so you didn’t panic because being with him freaked you out that much. You’d never said it, not in so many words, but you didn’t need to. 

“Maybe you should ask her,” Tommy said when Joel had been quiet for too long. 

“Tommy,” Joel groaned, rolling his eyes. “I can’t just…” 

“Can’t you?” Tommy said. “I mean… shit, man. You already blew it all up, what else you got to lose?” 

Tommy’s words were still in Joel’s mind when he left the job site that afternoon, going home to get cleaned up before going to the bank for his business loan appointment. 

What did he really have to lose? He could at least tell you how he felt, a thought that made his chest tight but brought a sense of relief, too. He’d been holding this in for so long now. It seemed like loving you had become a part of him, one that he was used to keeping to himself but one he didn’t want to hide anymore.

He’d told himself for years that he’d loved you quietly because it’s what you wanted. You weren’t interested, it was unfair to put his feelings on you. Even when you were a country away and not speaking with him, he found it strangely comforting to know that while it might be because he’d caved to his baser instincts and slept with you, it wasn’t because he’d pushed his feelings on you. He had regrets - he’d have given anything to take back that night if it meant you’d just talk to him again - but at least he knew how he felt about you hadn’t been the thing that had driven you away. 

Could it really be possible that not telling you had been the thing that sent you running from him? Had he really wasted years of his life not having you all because he’d been too afraid of actually fucking saying it? 

He put on his best clothes - wishing he had a suit for the first time in his life - and took a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror. It felt like his whole life was riding on this, everything he could have sitting there, just out of reach. 

He’d never been worthy of you before. Back when he met you, he was barely passing his classes, going nowhere fast. Doomed to spend his life in his hometown, doing some job to get by while trying to keep his kid brother’s nose clean. He hadn’t gotten much better since, staying in the first job he could get, doing his best to raise the child he’d made by accident, trying to make something of himself as he could. It was nothing compared to you. But if he could manage this, actually do something real and tangible, maybe he’d feel worthwhile. 

Joel drummed his hands on the steering wheel as he drove, one of the Taylor Swift songs from the concert he’d gone to with you and Sarah coming on the radio and he remembered looking at you that night, remembered how much he wanted to kiss you in a way that actually meant something. He had to do this. He had to. 

His stomach was in knots as he sat in the bank waiting room, one foot bouncing as he tried not to crinkle his presentation and application in his hands. He wished you were here. Why was he doing this on his own? What made him think he was even fucking capable of this without you? 

After what felt like a small eternity, a woman named Audrey brought him back to her office and Joel took a deep breath before walking her through his business plan. 

His heart was pounding the entire time and there was something perverse about talking through a future that you weren’t somehow a part of. He walked Audrey through the financial plans, what the next five years would look like and there was the nagging thought at the back of his mind that he should have talked with you about all of this. How money would be tight for a while, how he’d be extra busy, how much he appreciated the way you’d supported him through all of this so far. He never could have done this without you pushing him, encouraging him, helping him navigate the business world. It felt like your success, too, when Audrey set his presentation down on her desk, nodding. 

“Well, Joel,” she said, looking at him with a smile. “I think we have everything we need. Congratulations, you’re getting your loan!” 

Joel just laughed for a second, looking next to him quickly before remembering that you weren’t by his side. 

“Thank you,” he said. “This is… thank you very much.” 

“Looking forward to doing business with you,” she smiled. “Give me just a minute and I’ll be back with some papers so we can get things going.” 

Joel took his phone out and stared at his text message conversation with you, the last thing he sent still “I’m sorry.” He wanted to tell you that he’d done it. He was a business owner, he was going to be something, he was becoming someone that Sarah was going to be proud of and it was all because you’d come back into his life. You were who he wanted to share this with and he couldn’t. 

Audrey gave him the paperwork and he went through it page by page, more than a little reminded of when he got his mortgage and felt like he was signing his life away but with more optimism about his future this time. 

About halfway through the paperwork, though, the pen started skipping. He tried wetting the tip of it, scratching on a corner of the paper but he couldn’t get it to write smoothly again. 

“Do you got another one of these?” Joel asked, holding the pen up. “Can’t get it to work…” 

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” Audrey said, looking around her desk, including at an empty pen cup. “Let me just…” 

She opened a desk drawer and took a few things out, piling things on her desk - a purse, water bottle, a book. 

Joel cocked his head at the book, the spine of it familiar. So familiar that he couldn’t help but laugh. Of course you’d be here, too. 

“What?” She asked as she found a plain, white box and pulled out a handful of pens with the bank’s logo on the side. She dropped them into the pen cup and held one out to Joel. 

“Oh, nothin’,” he said, taking the pen and nodding at the novel. “Just… my friend, she wrote that book. Funny seeing someone read it.” 

“Wait, really?” She asked, her face lighting up as she held up your book. “You know who wrote this?” 

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “Yeah, she’s my best friend, known her since we were 15. She’s… she’s amazing. She teaches now, over at UT.” 

Audrey set the book down, leaning over the desk with her arms folded in front of her like she was going to tell Joel some kind of secret. 

“OK can I ask something?” She asked. “Sorry, this is probably hugely unprofessional but I am obsessed with this book, I can’t put it down and my book club is going crazy. Is any of it true? The falling in love and things ending like that? It seems like it has to be at least somewhat based on her life, I don’t see how someone could write this without knowing it, you know?” 

“Oh, uh,” Joel cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I actually… haven’t read it?” 

“Oh,” she said, sitting back a little, looking let down. 

“Sorry,” Joel said. “I’ve tried and I know it’ll be amazing but it’s just too weird for me…” 

“No, I’m sorry,” she laughed a little. “I overstepped, I shouldn’t have assumed…” 

“I should read it,” Joel said quickly. “I got it at home, maybe I’ll give it another go now.” 

“You should,” Audrey said. “It’s really, really good.” 

The new pen worked and Joel finished the paperwork, staring at his signature on the last page a  little too long. He handed the pen and papers back to Audrey. 

“You can keep the pen,” she smiled, taking the pages. “Let me make copies of these for your records but otherwise, congratulations, owner of Miller Brothers Construction and Contracting!” 

Joel had a bubble of pride in his chest as he drove home, one that seemed too big to keep contained and, against his better judgement, he called you. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, if he thought you were going to send him to voicemail, if you were going to answer and let him actually say something to you or what. 

What he didn’t expect was Gale. 

“Hello?” 

Joel just blinked for a second, recognizing the man’s pompous voice even from just the one word. 

“Is this Joel?” Gale - fucking BRAD - said. He took his silence as a yes and laughed. “Was wondering if I’d hear from you. Don’t worry, she’s with me, back where she belongs. Thanks for looking after her while I was gone, though. Appreciate it.” 

“Lemme talk to her,” Joel said through clenched teeth. 

“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” he said. “Seems like she doesn’t want much to do with you these days. Think you blew it. Thanks for that, too, by the way.” 

“We’re just…” 

“You’re just nothing,” Gale cut him off. “You were nothing but a childish distraction for her. She went running back here when things got hard - which I take my part of the blame for - and she needed a project to keep herself busy but she doesn’t need you anymore. So go back to the little life you’re meant for and leave us be. She was always too much for you and this place, anyway.” 

“No,” Joel said sharply. “No, you put her on the phone, put her on the phone right now!” 

“Can’t do that,” Gale said. “But I’ll tell her you called. Take care.” 

The line went dead and Joel threw his phone against the dash so hard the screen cracked. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his hands against the steering wheel. He wasn’t going to lose you, not again, not like this. 

He ignored Gale. Instead, he drove to your house, pounding sharply on the door, panting for breath as he did but you never answered. 

So he went to Anna’s next. He only needed to knock for a minute before she opened the door, Ellie’s beaming, chubby face happy in her arms. 

“Hey Joel,” Anna smiled at him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Here to see this one?” 

Ellie squirmed in Anna’s arms, cooing and reaching for Joel and he laughed once, he couldn’t help it, before holding his arms out for her. Anna handed him her daughter and Ellie giggled, immediately reaching to tangle her tiny fingers in his curls. He smiled at her for a moment, marveling at the little girl who’d brought you and him together in the way it felt like you were always meant to be.

“Is she here?” Joel asked, bouncing a little with Ellie, watching her smile, her little body a grounding force that eased his racing heart. 

“Oh,” Anna frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. “No, sorry, she’s not here too often anymore, just a few times a week… She moved back home, I thought you knew that?” 

“No, I did,” Joel said quickly, looking to Anna and offering a finger to Ellie for her to gum at. “She just… wasn’t there, tried callin’ her but…” 

“Oh,” Anna pulled her phone out, looking at the time. “She might still be at the school, I can call her for you…” 

“No,” Joel said quickly, not wanting to get your sister involved in the mess of whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you. “Don’t… Don’t worry about it, sure I’ll talk to her eventually.” 

“OK,” Anna said, still frowning. “Look… It’s not my business but… Is there something going on with you two?” 

Joel just looked at Anna for a moment, wondering if he should tell her, too, because fuck it, why not just let the whole world know how much he’d fucked up with you.  

But she beat him to it, going from a frown to an absolutely glowing smile in no time at all. 

“Oh my God.” 

“What?” He asked, adjusting his hold on Ellie. 

“You love her!” She sounded practically giddy. “Oh my GOD I knew it! You LOVE her! Have you told her? Does she know? Oh my GOD, JOEL!” 

“I… I haven’t exactly said it,” Joel said, his cheeks getting hot. “I don’t want to make it her problem, I don’t want to get in the way of her being happy, I just… I want to be there for it.”

Anna just looked at him for a moment before shaking her head a little. 

“Is… Is she happy with him?” Joel asked, watching your sister closely. “Is he what she wants? I didn’t know her when they were really together, I just… it seems like he holds her back and that he’s bad for her and…” 

“Joel, did you read her book?” Anna cut him off. 

He frowned. 

“What? What does that…” 

“You wanted to know if he’s what she wants,” Anna said. “She’s never going to actually say it, you know that. At least not to you or to me, she’s always going to try to seem like she’s OK and handle it herself until she can’t and even then she’s not going to actually fucking say it, Joel, but she will write it. She always writes it. Read the book, Joel.” 

He gave Ellie back to Anna and went home, trying to focus as he made Sarah dinner and helped her with her homework. 

Read the book. Just read the fucking book. Was that all it would take? Could he even do that? If fucking Brad really was what you wanted, could he really sit and read hundreds of pages about how much better your life had been when he wasn’t in it? 

He’d never been able to manage it and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to know you through your words and it wasn’t because he didn’t like your writing. It was because he didn’t know if he could stomach reading something you wrote while you were in love with someone else. 

But… Anna was right. He knew that. If he wanted to know the truth of any of it, he’d have to read it. So, after he tucked Sarah into bed, he sat on the floor, staring at the box in his closet that held the two copies of your book like it was daring him to actually confront his feelings for a change. Because that had always worked out so well for him in the past, not like every fucking time he’d resolved to actually talk to you he hadn’t found you loving someone else. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, opening the box and pulling out the books. This time, though, he picked the signed copy, the one he’d never tried to read before. There was something different about holding this copy, knowing that you had once, too. He ran his hands over the cover and the spine reverently for a moment before he leaned his back against the wall of the closet and opened the book. 

Joel had to force himself to read past the first few paragraphs, his stomach in knots the entire time, but, after a while, he fell into it - to the point that he almost forgot that he was reading your book. 

He’d known, from what little he’d managed to read in the past, that the book started in Austin, he just hadn’t expected the story to linger there.

But it did, the narrative following a girl named Cressida. She started out as a quiet, introspective high schooler who had become unlikely friends with a football player named Eli, a friendship that felt so like his with yours. They knew each other, understood each other, their worlds seem to revolve around each other. It seemed natural that it led to them sleeping together. But instead of the immediate implosion that had ended your relationship in real life, theirs devolved over time. Cressida came back to him again and again, the two of them winding up loosely connected every time a relationship of Eli’s fizzled out, her clinging to a heart wrenching longing that hurt to read, one that her friend seemed shockingly oblivious to.

Eventually, though, things came crashing down. This was different too, though, because it ended not with her vanishing but him, a car accident claiming Eli’s life when Cressida had finally resolved to tell him how she felt. They buried him in a sunny corner of the graveyard just before graduation and Cressida, it seemed, never really moved past it.

The other three-quarters of the book followed her as she tried – desperately, devastatingly – to live again, to get over the love she’d never really had to begin with, to find some place to root herself outside of that sun-drenched grave in her hometown.

She never really managed it, the ending almost painfully unsatisfying but feeling true. She’d become something – Cressida delving into the business world instead of the creative one as you had – and she found success away from home but her mind kept going back to that place and that person. She’d had relationships but, when her last boyfriend had proposed, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. It had felt like a lie, to tell someone she would love him above all others when she’d never love him more than the memory of the boy who had been gone for years. He’d died at the worst time, the part of her life that would always be on a pedestal no matter what she did. Nothing and no one would ever compare and she was stuck, still going back to him again and again even though he was cold in the ground.

The last chapter closed with her bringing home a man who reminded her of her friend, something charming about him that took her back to that brighter place for a while. But when he fell asleep next to her, she had to confront that hollow feeling in her chest. In the last moment of the story, she bought a plane ticket to go back to that sunny grave site, something about the calm that fell over her when she decided to go back making it seem like that grave was her resting place, too.

Joel just stared at the book when he read the final words, the last pages flopping over, revealing your picture on the inside flap of the dust jacket. That knowing smile and piercing gaze gutted him then, no longer the taunt and temptation of knowledge they had once been.

Was Anna right, was this the truth of it? Did you write out your real feelings? Had he really gotten everything this fucking wrong? Had he really spent years wishing things with you were different when they’d been different all along?

He got out his phone and ignored the fact that it was 4:30 in the morning and called you. You didn’t answer. It didn’t even go to voicemail, the phone ringing once before he got some message saying the number was unavailable.

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. He wasn’t positive but, based on his experience trying to track down Sarah’s mom years ago, that meant you’d blocked his number. It’d be just his fucking luck that he thought - hoped? - that, maybe, you felt the way he did at the same time he lost you for good.

He sat there with his eyes closed in the glow of his closet light, next to the box made up of the history of you, trying to pick through his memory from all those years ago, searching for some sort of guarantee that the book was based on what happened between the two of you back then.  

At some point, when he was swallowed by his memory of you, he fell asleep. Maybe it was the book, maybe it was the fact that he’d been sifting through ancient history when exhaustion finally caught up with him, maybe it was your words still ringing in his ears, but he remembered then. 

In his dream, he was back under the bleachers with Ricky, pacing to work out his nerves. He talked to his friend - the one who was more experienced, the one who wasn’t reckless, the one who would understand exactly why he was so afraid of what he might have just done to you. 

But, most importantly, he remembered exactly how that conversation had ended. 

It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.

“Dad!” 

Joel jerked awake, the book still open in his hands, your signature there for him to see. 

I fucking heard you. 

Sarah pounded on his bedroom door again. 

“Dad, come on!” She yelled. “I’m gonna be late!” 

“Shit,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked the time before calling to his daughter. “Two minutes, baby girl!” 

He got up as quickly as he could, his legs tingling from his awkward sleeping position on the floor of the fucking closet. 

Joel got changed quickly, barely paying attention to what he was putting on.

He’d had the answers sitting there for years, he’d just been too afraid to look it in the face but he had and now he knew. He knew how you felt - how you must have felt, why else would his misunderstood words have driven you away? - he knew how much time he’d already fucking wasted by being a coward, he knew it all now. 

He just didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. 

Joel got Sarah out the door quickly, barely paying attention on his drive to the school. He couldn’t just give up. He already refused to lose you, not again, but now it would be impossible. You were so close, everything he’d ever wanted there in front of him but just out of reach. Even if you’d moved on now, even if you were happier with fucking Brad, he had to tell you. He owed both of you that much. 

“Bye Dad!” Sarah poked her head between the two front seats and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

“What was that for?” He frowned, turning to look at her. 

She just shrugged and smiled. 

“Just seemed like you needed it,” she said. “Love you!” 

“Love you too!” He called after her as she hopped down from the truck and slammed the door behind her with a little too much force, waving behind her as she ran to the building. 

“Alright,” he took a deep breath, looking at the clock on his dashboard. Just after 8 a.m. He’d start at your place because he wasn’t sure what time you went to campus this semester. But he was going to talk to you. He was going to talk to you and he was going to tell you how he felt and he was going to do it today. “I’m comin’, Goldie.” 

You weren’t at your place when he got there. He tried not to think about if it was because you’d spent the night with fucking Brad, if you’d gone to his hotel and had never even been here. Instead, he went to campus. He wasn’t sure where you’d be teaching right now but he was pretty sure you wouldn’t be in your office. You always had morning classes with a break in the afternoon. 

“Excuse me,” he said to a random passing college student. “I’m lookin’ for… shit, probably creative writing? Or literature? What buildings are those?” 

“Oh, um,” the girl looked around quickly. “I’m a physics major but I know I had an English class in that building over there last semester? You could start there?” 

She pointed to a building in the distance and Joel kept his groan to himself. He forgot how fucking huge college campuses were. 

But he couldn’t just sit and wait. He needed to find you and he needed to do it now. 

“Thanks,” he said, giving her a wave and already starting to jog for the building. “Appreciate it!” 

But you didn’t have a class in that building. At least not at that time of day. He knew because he looked in all the lecture halls. You weren’t there. 

He tried two other buildings after asking for directions - no luck - before checking his watch. If your schedule was anything like it had been the semesters before, you’d be in your office soon. That, at least, he knew how to find. 

He jogged there, resisting the urge to run because that would probably make him look utterly insane, and threw his arm out to catch the elevator on its way up. 

“Floor 10, please,” he said to one of the college girls looking at him funny as he panted for breath. She did as he asked, though, and he marveled, for a moment, at just how fucking young college kids seemed to him now.

He closed his eyes and focused for a second, trying to figure out exactly what to say to you, but hearing your name pulled him out of his head. 

“I don’t think they’re still like… together together, though,” the girl who’d pushed the button said. “Like I know they were married but she said he was visiting. He’d live here if they were married, right? Besides, I really don’t think her husband would be asking for my number with his wife there, would he?” 

“I dunno,” the other girl shrugged. “He’s just… isn’t he old? Like old old, not hot old.” 

“I like them old,” the first girl giggled. “They know what they’re doing then.” 

The elevator chimed and the girls got off and Joel’s heart was beating so hard he could feel the blood in his body. You’d brought fucking Brad here and he’d hit on one of your fucking students - one who looked so young Joel never would have looked twice at her if he saw her on the street. Right in front of you, from the sounds of it. That’s who you’d chosen, that’s who you’d felt like you deserved because he hadn’t opened his fucking mouth years earlier. 

When the elevator made it to floor 10, he squeezed out of the doors, not willing to wait for them to open all the way, and ran to your office. 

“Excuse me,” the girl behind the front desk said as he went past her. “You can’t just…” 

“It’s fine,” he said, catching the door as someone came out of the hall where your office was. 

“No, wait!” She called after him but he ignored her. 

He ducked around other professors, dodging them and their questions until he was at your door. 

It was closed but he didn’t bother to knock, throwing the door open to find you there, standing in front of your desk in the arms of your fucking husband as he kissed you. 

Joel moved so fast that neither you nor Gale had noticed he was there but he couldn’t just stand there and watch that fucking guy kiss you, not like that. 

Without really thinking about it, he ripped him away from you, just catching a glimpse of the shock on your face as he punched Gale in the head, sending him sprawling into your desk. 

“Joel!” You yelled before grabbing his arm and pulling him back before he could hit your goddamn husband again. “What the fuck are you doing!” 

“Sorry, baby,” he said, shaking the feel of the punch out of his hand, his knuckles raw. “I couldn’t just watch that fucking guy touch you like that.” 

“Well, it’s really not your business how he touches me!” You snapped, shoving him back. “You don’t get to just come in here and hit people because you’re not getting your way anymore!” 

“That ain’t what this is,” he said, taking you by the shoulders, something grounding in the fact that could feel you again. “Baby, I read your book…” 

“Congratulations!” You snapped. “What, do you want a cookie because you finally got around to supporting me?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “Did you mean that? What you wrote, was that…” 

“What does it matter!” You asked, your eyes searching his face. “Why do you care! It’s ancient history, it doesn’t…” 

“It does matter!” He held you tight, wanting to kiss you more than he ever had before. “It matters because I love you, I love you so much, I’ve loved you since we were fucking kids, I love you so much that I think it might kill me if you don’t let me just say that to you at least this once and if you feel that way, too…” 

“You need to leave,” Gale - who Joel had all but forgotten about - said, trying to position himself between you and Joel. “And take your hands off my wife.” 

“Oh I haven’t even fuckin’ started with you,” Joel said, rounding on him. “You’re a fucking predator, chasing after her fuckin’ students while you’re here with her? Doing with them what you did with her, that it? Lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you…” 

“Joel, I…” you began, but you didn’t get the chance to finish, Gale pulling you back from Joel and going to hit him. 

Joel didn’t give him the chance, shoving him away from you before punching him again. Gale fell, landing on your desk again with a sharp crack. 

“Joel!” You yelled. 

He didn’t get a chance to respond. Instead, he got pulled back, security guards dragging him into the hall and away from you before he knew if he had a shot at really having you for the first time in his life.

A/N: FUCK YOU GALE!

Sorry, I've been picturing that moment since I first thought up the fic. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[venus-haze]

Love Is a Ring on the Telephone (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: When work calls you away from New York, Homelander can’t bear how much he misses you.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This fic is fluffy (and shorter than what I usually write) but still a little dark, and takes place vaguely during season 2. Inspired by Bruce Springsteen’s and Patti Smith’s versions of Because the Night (I actually got inspired for a few fics based on various lines in the song). Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Some possessive behavior and emotional manipulation (it’s Homelander). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander stared at the calendar taped to the wall in a desperate hope that he could somehow will time to race forward, and you’d be back home. He missed you terribly, spending the past few nights in your shoebox apartment he had yet to convince you to move out of. It was too cramped and loud for his liking, between your neighbors and the street noise, but he hadn’t realized how attached he’d become to it until you were gone. 

He went as far as pulling on one of your sweatshirts to sleep in, just because it still smelled like you. It was only day two of your five day business trip to a conference in Los Angeles, but each day without you felt like a week that dragged on endlessly. He’d been on bullshit missions from Vought that went longer, ones where he couldn’t even contact you until he returned, his insides shredded to bloody mush at the lingering anxiety that maybe in his absence, you found someone else.

From the moment he stepped into the disgustingly crowded airport with you, a melancholy swept over him. He offered to fly you to your hotel in LA himself, frustrated when you decided to do things the pedestrian way. At least his presence allowed you to skip the security line that stretched all the way back to the bag check as he graciously took selfies with each TSA agent. After all, you couldn’t be a threat if you were with The Homelander of all people. 

He would’ve gone with you, if it weren’t for the ‘Dawn of the Seven’ promotions that Ashley couldn’t get him out of. She nearly threw up while breaking the bad news to him, and he could hear her heart racing even as she practically sprinted down the hallway after he dismissed her. Reluctantly, he stayed behind while you went away, gritting his teeth through every interview and guest appearance. Having been paraded around plenty of Vought conferences himself, he knew damn well plenty of people used them as an excuse to get drunk and fuck around without their significant others’ knowledge.

He huffed, turning away from the calendar and practically rolling his eyes at himself. You’d proven time and time again that he could trust you, that you were the one for him. Still, his self-assurance did nothing to abate the sourness in his stomach, and suddenly, he’d pulled out his phone, ear pressed to the screen as the dial tone rang almost mockingly. He paced the kitchen floor, glancing at the clock on the wall. A little past one in the morning on the West Coast, but you wouldn’t mind if he woke you up.

“Baby? It’s late,” you yawned, the mundane noise making Homelander’s nerves settle slightly. “Is everything okay?”

He chewed his bottom lip, feeling like a schoolgirl calling her crush for the first time, almost instinctively reaching to play with a non-existent phone cord. There was neither pride nor shame when it came to you, only the affection and devotion that he’d spent his life longing for. Your presence soothed him, but your absence made his heart wrench in his chest. 

“Missed you,” he said softly.

“I miss you too. This conference is so boring. The people are weird, and I haven’t gotten a chance to see anything in LA.”

“What’s there to see? You’ve got a hot blond at home,” he said.

Your laughter made him feel indescribably lighter, even when it became muffled by your hand covering your mouth. 

“There aren’t palm trees in New York, smarty.”

“If you wanna see palm trees, I can think of at least five places I can take you that are nicer than LA.”

“I read that some palm trees grow in the Mediterranean, like Greece and Italy.”

“We’ll have to go one day to see, huh?”

You enthusiastically agreed, and he clung to your every word as you described your dream vacations in detail. He’d bring you everywhere, wrapped tightly in his arms from the moment he took off in New York until the two of you inevitably ended up in bed somewhere beautiful and secluded, where you could truly be alone together. 

He wondered what you’d think of moving out of the city, maybe to one of the smaller beach towns out on Long Island or somewhere more secluded in the Catskills. Either way, he’d have a commute for the first time in his life, but he could deal with a quick flight to Vought Tower if it meant waking up beside and coming home to you each day. After years of clamoring for the adoration of the masses, millions of people cheering his name and going into a frenzy in his presence paled in comparison to the sincerity in your voice and steady heartbeat whenever you told him that you loved him. 

Often, he felt like no one else knew what being in love was like, otherwise they wouldn’t make him go on asinine press tours or send you away to the opposite side of the country for a conference. Something so passionate and all-consuming as what he felt for you couldn’t be ruined by distance, and though he could listen to you talk on the phone all night, it wasn’t the same as being able to see and feel you. He’d grown far too accustomed to the warmth and gentleness of your touch, the way your eyes lit up for him and nobody else. 

A loud bang and the sound of drunk chatter outside your room interrupted your voice, and though no human could have heard the commotion so clearly, he could, and his lip curled in response. You immediately apologized, ranting about the people at the conference, most of whom you found uppity and unpleasant, finding networking with them at panels and meals more of a chore than an opportunity.

He looked at your refrigerator, colorful magnets holding up your handwritten lists and reminders, but his gaze was focused on the selfie of the two of you on your second date to the Bronx Zoo just a few months prior. You’d taken the time to get the photo printed and displayed in a spot that was domestic and sentimental, somewhere you and anyone else who entered your place could easily see. His hands suddenly felt cold in your physical absence, and a lump formed in his throat as he found himself on the verge of tears.

“If it’s such a drag, you should just leave early and come home.”

“Baby, you know I can’t—“

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised softly, the ‘from now on’ was unspoken, but from the way he could hear your breath faintly hitch over the phone, he knew you understood.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Will you come get me?”

“I’ll be there before you blink.”

“I’ll keep my eyes wide open for you.”

He smiled, letting out a soft chuckle at your words. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“That’s impossible.”

You were quiet for a moment. “Can’t I try?”

“You don’t need to try. Just being mine is enough, darling.”

Everything in his life had gone to shit so fast, but not you, never you. He’d raze cities to ash before letting you go, before possibly losing the warmth that enveloped him at the thought of you and how much you loved him. Even if he could bottle the feeling, inject it into his veins whenever he pleased, he wouldn’t, not when he had you by his side. He wasn’t sure if anyone could compare. As much as he wished he’d met you sooner, he supposed later was better than never.

You ended the phone call, your voice soft and melodic as you once again professed your love to him. He did the same before hanging up, hastily grabbing one of your sweaters from your closet. You’d always get cold while flying with him. He brought the knitwear to his nose, the scent of your fabric softener and a hint of your perfume almost making him dizzy. Wasting no more time, he left your apartment to make it to Los Angeles before you could fall back asleep.

He knew which hotel you were staying at and the room number, having texted it to him before you left. Of course, he’d memorized the details, and within half an hour was hovering outside of your eighth floor hotel room window, which you gladly opened for him. You were in your pajamas, your small suitcase packed on the bed.

“My hero!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him and pressing a playful kiss to his cheek.

Your lips on his skin made it feel like he was on fire, and he took your face in his ungloved hands, kissing you desperately as your sweater fell to the floor. Two days had suddenly transformed into a lifetime of longing and separation, and as he slipped his tongue into your open mouth, he did so with the intention of savoring you, getting as close to devouring you as he could. 

Squeezing his hips to steady yourself only encouraged him further, a groan rumbling from deep in his chest. Sometimes, you made it so hard for him to have any self-control, and in those moments he almost lamented his powers. His strength made your being with him inherently dangerous, yet despite the risks, you willingly sought out his embrace and intimacy.

“Always yours,” he muttered huskily against your lips. 

You looked at the sweater on the floor, smiling at the gesture. “Thanks.”

“Can’t have you catching pneumonia on the way home, can I?” he said as you pulled the sweater on.

You grabbed your suitcase off the bed, and he took it from you with ease, holding it in one hand, his other arm firmly around your waist. He’d flown you plenty of places before, and though you were no longer nervous like the first time he took you flying, he loved how you clung to him anyway.

[negansbackdoorwhore]

Scrimmage

Summary: Negan coaches college ball for a small community college. One of his players however keeps up a little game that he is tired of playing

Warnings: swearing, age gap (early 20s reader, Negan is mid 40s), smut, p in v sex, daddy kink

Negans POV

There she goes again, purposely wearing those fucking short shorts. They hugged those thighs tights and made her ass pop. Fuck, what I’d do to her if she was mine for one night. But I can’t risk my fucking job over pussy. I try to ignore the way she sways her hips when walking past me and how she’s able to be a star during practice. There is no denying that most of these girls are crushing on me but Y/N just has to make her desires known in a more outlandish way. She was by no means shy about the attraction, sometimes I would slip up a flirty comment to amuse her game. But never actually go to touch her or anything stepping over that boundary.

Tonight was a scrimmage game to see how well we are prepared for the season. Along with to see what we need to practice on. As the game went on, a few students watched in the gym and I focus on different plays.

“C’mon girls! Defense, defense!” I call out and blow the whistle for a quick time out. They came over to the side line and gather in a circle.

“We’re doing great so far, but defense needs work. It doesn’t really work out well if we can’t keep the opposing team off our dick, right?” They laugh at my joke and nodded in agreement. I blew my whistle once more to set off the game again. Much improvement in our team and I shout out my criticism and let them finish out the last quarter as champs. We had a little get together after they showered up in the cafeteria. Apparently, there was a little froyo social, bullshit that college campus’s do. I snuck away as the girls started talking whatever girl language they do. Hopefully, they have fun tonight. I sigh and walk back to the gym to gather my stuff to go home. As I unlocked the gym door, I go to my office and flip the light switch.

“What are you doing here?” I sigh looking at Y/N on my desk, her legs are crossed. “Not much. Just waiting for you…Daddy.” I hissed as I heard that nickname and shook it off. I move pass her and grab my duffle bag.

“Get out of here and go to that gay froyo social.” I say making sure all my things are in my bag. I then heard movement around and hoping she left. But instead heard the locking of the door.

“Y/N. I’m telling you one more time, leave.” I say in a stern tone and remove my hat. I run my fingers through my hair as I turn off my computer.

“Am I not attractive?” The question made me turn my head towards her. “You are very attractive, Y/N.” I say throwing my bag on my shoulder.

“Am I not your type?” She keeps on asking and trying to trap me. “I don’t have a type.” I say trying to dismiss her. “Then what is it? I’m twenty one, so it’s legal and I’ve caught you staring at me numerous times…” She says reaching to touch me but I dodge the advance.

“This is inappropriate and you know it.” I say going to unlock the door and then heard her let out a dramatic sigh. “I see how it is. Coach Smith is just too scared.” I gripped the door handle tight, I knew exactly what she was trying to do. I just shook my head and unlocked the door to make my leave. “Fine. Run away like a coward.” I heard her say in a disappointed tone.

-

Another week passed and I was grading the last few exams. I hated graded these papers especially since I’m supposed to be hands on. But can’t be so lucky as the curriculum calls for state testing and at least a few tests to exercise their brains. I sigh feeling bored already and sip the coffee from my thermos. It was late evening as I got stuck here. I did however procrastinate my duties, I had a couple dates with a few faculty members. Unfortunately, they were boring and even worse no pussy either. I growl under my breath and felt it was too long since I’ve felt the warmth of a woman. Two long months and not getting my dick wet. I lean back in my office chair and ran a hand over my chin. As I took a break, I heard some noise outside of my office. It sounded like some stupid kids finding the empty gym to fuck. I would leave it alone but hearing some guy get lucky instead of me, just pisses me off. I go to stand up and open my door to see some frat boy with Y/N.

“Shit! You fucking lied to me!”

“Hey! I didn’t know he was still here.” She retaliated and I was fucking furious. For one, she was here with this idiot and the other thing was that she intended to let another person have her.

“That’s no way to speak to a lady. Now, I’ll give you two options. One, you can leave and I won’t do a fucking thing. Two, I’ll suspend you and fail your sorry ass.” I say looking at them both. I scowl at Y/N to make her feel how angry I was.

“Fine. I’m out of here.” He walked away quickly and Y/N was shooting daggers at me. “Thanks a lot! I was trying to have fun but I can’t get that when you’re around.” I shook my head and grabbed her wrist. “I’m so sick and tired of your ass. You need someone to fuck you? Fine, I’ll change your fucking life.”

She didn’t put up any physical protest or verbal as I lead us to my office. I could practically feel her excitement as I push further inside and lock the door.

“Get your ass on the desk.” I say removing my cap and see her immediately jump to my orders. I smile to myself seeing how happy she was, I was too. Finally get to feel that tight cunt on me along with her ass. I bit my lip and approach the desk. Her thighs opened for my body to fit and instantly my lips were on hers. I held her by the waist as I leaned down to deepen our kiss. Fuck, they were so soft and tasted like honey. I groan into her mouth and felt her hips buck. I grin against her lips as I felt her thighs going around my waist.

“Eager?” I teased her and grind against her, she let out a cute whimper to feel my semi erect cock. I bit my lip and moved to bite her neck. Her skin tasted just as good as I sucked a dark hickey on her bare neck. Want everyone to see that she’s owned by me. And me alone. I growl as I move lower and felt her body through the thin shirt.

“Fuck. Coach.”

“Not coach. Negan or Daddy, either one is fine as long as you scream it.” I heard her breath get heavy at the statement and took the opportunity to kneel down. Y/N looked down at me, all that cockiness she had was out the window. It turned me on even more, seeing her slick mouth shut and her actions were all shy. All because I have her trapped under my grasp. Her limbs were trembling as I had my head between her thighs. I bit my lip looking at her turn red.

“Someone getting cold feet?” I teased as I reach to tug away her shorts. She tensed instantly and almost pushed me away. I look up at her and stopped my hands from going further. I can read how nervous she was to do this and pecked my lips on her knee.

“It’s okay. Just relax baby, Daddy won’t hurt you.” I coo as I gently massage her calf. I move to stand up and moved my hand up from her leg toward her chin. I held her cheek gently in my hand as my thumb swept along her skin. She was still flushed and I saw how she wanted to hide from my gaze.

“And I thought you’d be more fiesty. Guess that was all bullshit, but don’t worry. I know how to treat a fine piece of ass.” I kiss her again but this time, softer and more attentive. She moaned against me and I reached my hand lower to touch the front of her shorts. Her thighs daring to close but I stop the resistance. “Be a good girl. Let me touch your pussy.” I purred and her muscles slowly untensed. I caressed her through her shorts and felt her hips buck.

“Mm baby. You like that?” I say pressing harder and kissing the mark I left. She only nodded and I bit down on that spot, making her let out a wince.

“Use your fucking words.” I warned. “Yes, I like it.” She whined feeling my hand go beneath the fabric. I felt the little damp spot on her panties making me growl. Fuck, I barely even touched her. I could feel the excitement in her body after making such a noise. I go by her ear and nibbled her earlobe as I growl again. She let out a moan this time as my finger teased her clit.

“Negan, it feels-“

“Oh yeah. Tell me baby, tell me how I feel.” Y/N moaned and went to hide her face in my chest. Her hands reached to grip onto my sweatshirt. I laughed lightly and shoved her panties away. I moaned at the warmth of her nectar hit my skin. I felt her erect clit practically twitch against my touch. Her body clings to me as I finger her dripping cunt. Her noises were muffled into the fabric of my sweatshirt and I kissed the top of her head. Her thighs dared to shut. Damn, she must be close.

“Don’t do that. Be a good girl and let me make you come.” I say against her ear and felt her pussy clenching on my fingers. “Daddy!” She squealed into my chest as I felt her come. I groan feeling her sweet juices coat my hand and brought her into another kiss. I groan and pulled away to take off my shirt. I heard Y/N catching her breath and guided her hand on the buldge of my sweatpants.

“It’s big…” She said in a shaky tone but I reassured her motions and pulled down the waistband. My cock sprung out almost hitting poor Y/N in the face. She visibly shook at the sight of me.

“Don’t worry about putting it in your mouth. We’ll do that another time, for now…” I take her hand and had her touch my shaft. Fuck, her skin was soft and warm. “Just play with it. Get a good feel for me, sweetheart.” Her palm gently went down my cock and back up. She was still shaking but it only made me twitch in her hand.

“Don’t be scared to get a little rough. Go on and give a firm squeeze.” I instructed and she obeyed immediately. I bit my lip feeling her slowly jerk me off. “Oh shit. That’s a good girl.” I praised and see her body language change, she must like that. I smirk to myself and go to stroke her hair. “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?” I asked and gently massaged her scalp. Y/N let out a light sigh at my attention and it encouraged her to go faster. I moan and starting to buck my hips against her. Her grip grew tighter as I felt her.

“Shit. This is making Daddy feel so fucking good.” I smile and brought my hand to lift up her chin up at me. Her eyes were full of desire and I wanted to fill that need. Along with her pussy.

“Behind? Or do you want to face me?”

“What?” She asked and I laughed lightly at her question and squeezed her chin. “How should I fuck you? Behind or do you want look at me?”

“Can I look at you?” She says in a hesitant tone and I gently push away her hand off my cock. I lean over her and kissed her lips as tugged for her shorts to come off. Her hips lifted up and I quickly toss them onto the floor. She shivered feeling the cool touch of my wooden desk as my hands brought her legs to my waist.

“Like this?” I ask knowing fully well how embarrassed she was having me doing this to her. Her cheeks were flushed and her thighs tensed. “Hold on to me, I want to feel you scratch my body as I make you all fucking mine.”

“Yes Daddy.” She whispered and I felt my cock turning to steel. Y/N’s arms go around my shoulders and I lean lower to guide my body to tease her wet slit. I groan at the feeling and heard her let out a moan. I bit my lip and eased the tip inside. She was already squeezing me and I go deeper watching her expression closely.

“Relax for me.” I whispered and stopped my movements feeling her clenching harder. Her nails scratched my shoulder and eventually her velvet walls relaxed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never felt someone this big.” She winced gently moving her hips up making me moan. I took the opportunity to go all the way inside and moaned at how good she felt.

“Fuck. Tight little pussy on you, feels so fucking good on me.” I moan slowly moving my hips as she whimpered to feel me stretching her cunt. I reached my hand to hold her hip as I kept my thrusts slow to make sure she was adjusting to my size. I was really giving her the special treatment, might as well savor this. I lean closer to her face and kissed her softly. She moaned on my lips and I moved up for her legs to go onto my shoulders. She let out a surprised noise as her back landed onto the papers on the desk. I could careless about that shit right now.

“Oh Y/N.” I groan as I move inside of her as her cunt started overflowing with her sweet juices. Her hold grew tight on me as I started to pound her into the desk. I couldn’t hold myself back, it felt too fucking good.

“Fuck! Daddy!” She whined as my hips seem to have control over me. Well fuck, I think I might be in love with her cunt. “Good girl, letting me have you like this.” I groaned feeling her clench down on my cock.

I growled as those perfect manicured nails dug into my skin and I pumped my cum deep inside this perfect pussy. I moan and dug deep to hit that special spot and watched her mouth hung open. Her eyes shut and tears roll down her cheeks. Fucking fuck fuck fuck! This might’ve been a mistake….

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, CH3 - Yan!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: non-con, lactation kink (with geto), cock warming (in both holes), fingering, rimming (fem. receiving), vibrator wands, anal (with dildo), groping, mentions of diet monitoring

Geto shows you a bit of mercy following… all of that. As he helps you settle in, he allows you to continue your graduate studies online via a heavily locked, proctored, and guarded computer, and under strict supervision by any of his devotees. You suppose you can’t complain in that regard; maybe he has some sense, knowing how expensive higher education already is, and you’re almost done, anyway. Once you graduate, he doesn’t have to worry about that, anymore, and he claims to be a patient, understanding man.

What a bucket of sheer bullshit.

There are other rules you have to follow. He puts you on certain medications, that he doesn’t discuss the purpose of at all. He makes you exercise, since he figures it best you maintain peak health. He plans to monitor your diet, but he’s not overly restrictive.

It’s crass, and it’s frankly unbelievable how quickly your life went to shit after working at that goddamn café. Funny how the most trivial decisions in your life can change the entire trajectory of it—for better or for worse. And this is so much worse than you have ever imagined. (And that imagination of yours doesn’t stretch very far, because you don’t want to entertain the possibility of just how much worse your situation can get. After all, you have bear witnessed to some unseen forces both Geto and Gojo are gifted with manipulating. You can’t even perceive it. So what the fuck?)

After submitting your assignments for the week—you’re thankful you can uphold at least one aspect of your life—you accompany the twins while Geto is off scamming his clients. You know very little of the cult he organizes, but apparently, it’s all just a big coverup. You don’t care to dig into the details, either. You have seen enough of what he is capable of doing, and that’s as much as you need to know.

Nanako shuffles the deck of cards for another round. The twins engage you in friendly games of Nines or B.S. It is actually sort of endearing they want to make you feel like you’re part of the family, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have fallen for it. But now that you know the reason Geto and Gojo targeted you in the first place is because they wanted you, you’re frightened of crossing them, as well.

Now you’re in the middle of a third round of B.S.  

“Okay, well, I’m putting down a 3—!” you lie through your teeth because all you have are Kings, Queens, and Aces, which Mimiko immediately calls you out on.

“B.S.! That’s a hefty hand of cards now!” she giggles with a little twinkle in her eyes that otherwise seem dull and lifeless.

You sigh in defeat, grinning as you swipe the hefty stack of cards in question and keep them steady in your hands. As long as the girls are enjoying themselves, you suppose.

“Well! I put down my only card which is a 4!!! I win!” Nanako laughs as she slams the card down on the low wooden table before doing a little victory dance.

“Wow, I haven’t played these card games since childhood. It brings back a lot of memories,” you comment, and Mimiko perks up at that.

“We hope you can make tons of new memories with us,” Mimiko replies. At that, you frown a bit.

“Girls,” you start, drumming your fingers along the table. “Forgive me if this is out of line to ask you, but why did you request me?”

“Because we like you,” Nanako answers quickly. She and Mimiko exchange a look.

“And we don’t want Master Geto to get lonely,” the twins say in unison.

Finally, Mimiko adds, as her eyes seem to understand more than she ever dares let on: “You seemed lonely, too, so we wanted you here with us.”

You are, you definitely concede to that, but this is not the remedy you had in mind.

“Master Geto is our hero,” Nanako babbles on with a fond smile. “He rescued us from a village when we were really small! The villagers were going to kill us because they thought we were heretics. But he killed them all before they could. So we owe him everything! We wouldn’t be alive without Geto!”

You freeze as you process the information. That’s a side to Geto you’re not sure you admire, because he still killed people as a means to an end. While to protect two girls who aren’t as innocent as they seem…you still aren’t wholly convinced of him being a hero in any sense of the word.

But maybe that doesn’t matter, because he’s a hero to these girls. It doesn’t seem to bother them what he does, because they blindly follow him.

“I see,” you mumble, handing your cards to Nanako as she shuffles the deck for a new game. You hear the opening door emit a slight creak and there enters Geto, smiling at the sight of you bonding with his girls who he holds dear to his heart. His heavy footsteps draw near, and your breath hitches. Instinctively, you rise to your feet to greet him.

“My little dove, I’m happy to see the twins enjoy your company so much already,” he drawls as he beckons you to come to him with a curl of his finger. You wordlessly obey. You don’t look into his eyes.

But then he tucks his bony fingers under your chin and lifts your head. Before bidding farewell to the girls,  

“Follow me,” he instructs, and you once again wordlessly obey, your feet already moving to follow him back to his bedroom.

At least you know the underground dungeon is a one-time thing…but that doesn’t make your situation any less difficult.

“I’m sorry I had to steal you away,” he sighs as he shuts the door before pinning you there. “I missed you too much.”

“I thought the girls were the only reason you chose me,” you retort, but there’s no true bite to your words. You know better than to try to fight back a force you don’t understand.

“True,” he concedes with a low hum, as he drags his finger along your jawline. You can’t stop yourself from wincing at his touch and he tuts at that. “But you must understand how much I desire you, too.”

“No, I don’t, I’m afraid,” you mumble and you hear him sigh once more, pressing a feathery light kiss to your forehead before pulling away.

“I merely took you away so we can further discuss this arrangement. As you know, you’re to remain with me. Satoru will make occasional visits here, and he plans on stopping by later in the week,” he rambles on. “I expect you already know what he expects. He has this thing about sharing, and he’s as fond of you as I am.”

“So what,” you stammer, as your timid eyes meet his. “Is this some kind of sick free use fantasy of his?”

Geto purses his lips. “Call it what you like. But if you knew what was best for you, you’d accept it. After all, I can’t have him be unfulfilled, hm? He’s dear to me, you know.”

A response dies on your tongue—how the hell are you supposed to react when you know you can’t speak your truth? Not unless you want to be scorched to death like those chefs and those customers. Yet even in spite of that you find yourself grinding your teeth, your response packing a lot more bite than you want it to as your blood simmers beneath your skin.

“Alright. Whatever,” you finally say. “I’m just glad you’re sensible enough to let me finish pursuing my education.”

“Of course,” he jives, in a tone that insinuates you’re the foolish one for expecting otherwise, folding his arms over his chest. “Under strict supervision. Not that there’s much you can do if you try to run or call for help. Satoru and I have eyes everywhere, my little dove.”

You nod grimly. “If that’s all you wanted to say, may I be excused?”

His eyebrows furrow. “You don’t have power over that.”

“Geto,” you sigh, daring to take a step closer to him, resting a gentle hand on his chest. “Please, have a heart. I know you must have one somewhere if you did what you did for the girls for the reasons they claimed.”

“So, they told you,” he mutters, as his eyes bore into yours, as if searching for some kind of reaction other than what you’re displaying which is sheer indifference. That’s what you ought to strive for in a situation like this, isn’t it? Because it’s not like you can ever expect to be happy in this arrangement. “The girls were vulnerable then.”

“Yes,” you respond, tone laden with disgust. “In an effort to convince me about you, I suppose.”

“Did it work?” he asks, casting a side glance at you. He sounds… hopeful. And you want to squash those dreams beneath your heel like it’s a nasty bug. He doesn’t deserve anything from you, not a single damn thing.

“You figure it out,” you retaliate, the venom still oozing in your tone unintended yet you can’t stop it from spewing everywhere.

You almost regret it as soon as those words slipped from your mouth. Something flashes in his violet eyes, but he holds himself back this time. Huh. Maybe you can have a voice somewhere. Not all hope is lost, perhaps?

Biting back a groan, he replies: “If it will take you a bit more convincing, then I suppose you would be delighted to know that within reason, you are still allowed to go out from the temple. As long as you’re with us. You’re part of the family, and we want you to be comfortable here with us. It’s only appropriate you behave as if you operate as one of us.”

Gosh, that guy really likes spewing a lot of bullshit, doesn’t he?

“Nothing is going to change, Geto,” you tell him, “Nothing you do to try to win me over is going to work.”

His hand constricting around your neck interrupts you, and you struggle to breathe as his nails dig into your sensitive flesh.

He pins you to the door behind you, your head colliding with a light thud. You grunt, gritting your teeth.

“Have you stupidly forgotten your place?” he sneers into your ear. “You’re alive because I want you to be. I can kill you in the blink of an eye. Yet you’re here for one reason—because I will it.

“Be a good girl, little dove, and I’ll be the perfect lover for you. But you try to cross me, or be a little brat? It won’t be good news for you. Do you understand?”

You curtly nod, struggling to speak. He relaxes his grip on your neck. His eyes soften.

“I don’t wish for things to be difficult between us, but you humans, you monkeys…you all think you’re holier-than-thou. Which can’t be further from the truth,” he snarls, “I want this to work out, my dear. Not just for the girls, but for me and for Satoru. Don’t you understand?”

He cups your face, thumbs brushing along your skin as his violet gaze bores into your eyes.

“You’re wanted here. Alive and well and thriving. We will leave you wanting for nothing as long as you cooperate,” Geto finishes, releasing his grip on you. He shuffles around the room and acquires you a robe similar to his. He tosses it to you. “Get dressed now. And don’t be shy. I’ve already seen everything so there’s no reason for you to hide.”

Something lodges in your throat; a protest dying on your tongue as you do as you’re instructed. Light wisps of the fabric fill your ears as you strip down, fold your clothes and set them aside, and arm yourself in the robe. It’s pure silk. Airy. Light. Comforting and breathable. Almost like you’re wearing nothing.

Geto tilts your head up by the chin again and latches something around your neck. A pure gold chain, skintight. The pendant in the middle is the cult’s insignia.

“I’d have used a collar if I didn’t find those so vulgar,” he whispers, as his finger brushes down your cheek. So light you can barely feel it. “Plus you’re far above such dehumanization. Consider it a compliment. I don’t say such words to monkeys, especially. You’re part of the family now. Soon, you’ll be acquainted with the rest of them.”

People actually follow this guy? …And why does he call humans ‘monkeys’? Is it some weird evolutionist crap?

You avert your gaze to your feet. You don’t know how all of this sits with you, but all you have to know is that you’re not okay with it. Dread coils in your stomach and heart. You can’t believe what’s become of you, and you’re not even fighting back—why not? Because you don’t know what you’re facing. How can you fight back when you’re not even fully aware of the world of which you unwittingly entered?

“Before we go,” he drawls, grasping your hands and dipping you slightly as he presses his lips to yours for a moment. He then scoops you into his arms princess style and carries you to his bed. “I want to enjoy some alone time with you.”

He leans in again, pressing his lips to yours. Soft, light at first. But then his kisses become hungrier. He pries apart a bit of the robe—the robe must be for easy access, huh?—tracing the outline of your lacy baby pink bra as he trails kisses along your collarbone.

“The medication might take a bit to work, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t…enjoy these,” he grunts, removing your bra to reveal your beautiful mounds; the tip of his tongue flicking at your perky nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You can’t fight back the low hiss from the contact that becomes a low moan. Your nipples are already oversensitive as it is.

He draws his tongue around your nipple, growling low and guttural. More experimental sucks and you swear you feel something. You gasp, your lips still parted as his eyes widen. Something hits his tongue. White liquid.

Is that what all of this is for..?

“B-but I’m not…” you whimper, chewing on your lip.

“The medication I put you on,” he explains as he removes your nipple with a pop, kissing around your mound. “Combined with your new nutrition plan. It aids in this.”

He pinches your nipple and more milk splatters onto his lips, which he eagerly licks clean with a pleased sigh before latching onto it again, suckling hard. More pitchy whines escape your parted, rosy lips. Instinctively your hands move to cradle his head in place.

He’s drinking your tit like his life is on the line, like he can’t live without it.

“Geto…?” you whimper, as a blush blooms on your cheeks.

“Suguru,” he corrects, his voice muffled slightly.

“Suguru, I…” your breath is caught in your throat before another moan leaves your lips. He continues to greedily nurse on your nipple, the slosh, slosh, sloshing of the liquid leaking from the tip so lewd and intimate.

He finally pulls back, tongue running over his lips as he catches any lingering droplets of your milk. He sighs, purely content for the moment. Before he adjusts your robe, he kisses along your breasts.

“Pull yourself together,” he commands, though his tone is softer—bordering on affectionate, even. “The girls want to go out to eat.”

Geto following through on his promises, being a man of his word and all, so you’re allowed to go out with them like a normal family. As normal as this family can appear, anyway.

The twins want to go to check out some new bakery since…considering what happened at the café you worked at, it’s probably best not to return. Besides, he also explains to you that to the public you’re just another member of the family. Your school doesn’t think you’re kidnapped, so there’s no reason for you to not be able to stretch your legd as long as you’re kept on a tight leash.

You may call it merciful, but it’s just basic human rights to you.

You halt in place as you take in the scenery of the park Geto and the twins take you on a stroll through. It’s a gorgeous, spacious botanical garden with duck ponds and various stone paths leading to different segments. It’s beautiful, yet your eyes rest on a particular couple having a picnic under a cherry blossom tree. It’s not in season. Ut the prospect alone is romantic enough. Yet another thing you have lost your chance at having.

Geto calls out your name, and you twist your head to meet his cold gaze.

“We must get a move on. The girls are very excited to try this place out. We don’t want to make them wait, don’t we?”

“May I request a quick break?” you mumble, your gaze flitting back to the couple grazing in their little corner. A longing sigh leaves your plump lips. Why has something like this happened to you? Why not some other unfortunate soul, someone who may actually benefit from this? (If anyone can benefit from such an absurd arrangement?)

Geto approaches you, his cold gaze melting into something almost tender. You wish you can spit in his face. You wish you can taunt him, mock him, beat him down. But you have no power over him and you know it. You have to play the long game. That’s fine. You can do that.

You may not have any power…yet.

“Is something troubling you?” He follows your gaze to the blissfully unaware couple, a frown stressing his features as he appears to be grappling with why they caught your attention.

“You took so many of my dreams away,” you mutter, tone sharper than intended but you get your point across, nevertheless. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the robe Geto gave you. You await punishment for any perceived defiance, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as you wait to embrace a slap, or anything other physical blow. Yet nothing comes.

You pry your eyes back open. He’s drawn near you, his face contorted into a contemplative expression. As if he almost feels the weight of some guilt over his actions but you know that to be false. Just in your imagination. No one as heartless as he can feel a shred of remorse.

“That may still be a reality,” he assures you as he rests a firm hand on your shoulder, squeezing it. “Between us.”

You shake your head. “No. I’m more like your concubine. There is nothing between us.”

Geto’s body tensed, his nostrils flaring and his breath hitching in his throat. He glowers at you, and you know you’re about to face something terrible for calling him out on his bullshit.

“For that to be true, you would need to be living in a status below me, which clearly isn’t the case,” he explains as he attempts to regain his composure; he’s not one to lose patience but around you, that’s become a challenge for him. As if to prove his point, his finger traces along the gold chain of your neck. “You are…special, to me. I only hope you come to understand how much you matter here.”

You’re so fucking full of shit, you think to yourself, knowing better than to speak your truth.

He murmurs your name. “Let’s not cause a scene around the girls. They want to bond with you.”

You glance at Nanako and Mimiko, who seem absorbed in their own world, walking ahead of you and Geto, babbling to each other about some gossip magazine they read together.

“Fine, only for the girls,” you scoff as you attempt to maintain a neutral expression, brushing past him. You grimace as the gold chain hidden beneath the robe he forced you to wear jingles a bit—that’s just to reinforce the fact that you have no power over yourself anymore.

He may not think of you as a pet, but he treats you like one.

“Mr. Geto! Hurry up!!!” Nanako calls from over her shoulder as you approach her. You let out a little gasp as Nanako grasps your hand and squeezes it, like a child would with their mother.

“I’m coming, Nanako. Don’t worry,” he calls back as he catches up in a few strides. He tags behind you, his stare boring into the back of your skull as you keep holding Nanako’s hand. Between the girls, Nanako appears to be more openly trusting.

In spite of yourself, you smile at the idea. Even if the girls have set you up to live under Geto’s rules, you don’t mind being around them. You do wish it was under different circumstances…

Nanako calls your name and your eyes meet hers.

“What kind of video games do you like?” she asks, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Oh! Um…” You rack your mind for something. “I used to love playing Mario Kart back in the day! And Sonic Adventure 2. But I don’t think I ever strayed beyond that…”

“Oh! Then we can introduce you to cool stuff! Geto doesn’t like to play, so it’ll be awesome to have you be playing against us!”

Geto grumbles something to himself. “Video games are a waste of time.”

“Says you, Mr. Geto!” Nanako chides, “You just say that because monkeys make them!”

“Perhaps,” he concedes with a huff.

Monkeys? Again? Is that what he calls normies or something? Who does he think he is? Draco Malfoy?

“You’re not a monkey,” Nanako tells you with a cutesy grin. “You’re awesome! Geto thinks so too. He just won’t say it outright!”

You glance at him, eyes twinkling in curiosity. You’re far from flattered by the discovery, but you wonder what Geto really thinks of you.

He avoids your gaze, focused on his feet but he still tails close behind you.

“Geto,” you address him, but he interjects.

“Suguru,” he corrects you, yet again. “You don’t call me Geto.”

The slightest hint of irritation flashes in your eyes.

How about I call you Tweedledee and Gojo Tweedledum and we call it good? Oh how you wish you could say what you really thought.

“Suguru, I, um…” you start again, wincing at your own wavering tone. You make a face. You can’t believe yourself and what you’re about to do, but flashing Nanako an apologetic smile, you retract your hand and secure your arms around one of Geto’s. He tenses for a moment, likely from surprise, but eases into the touch. Nanako grins at the sight before turning to babble on about something with Mimiko.

“You don’t need to,” Geto murmurs to you, chin nuzzling into your hair.

“It’ll make them happy,” is all you say in response.

All you’re thinking of now is appeasing the girls. Your happiness doesn’t matter anymore. It seems as if it never did.

Geto only hums, securing his hold on you as you approach the new bakery the twins have been dying to try.

Per Geto’s command, you find yourself back underground. You know what’s coming next. While he hasn’t done all that much to you just yet, things are about to change. You shouldn’t get too comfortable.

Especially when you hear steps descending down there stairs. And in strides Tweedledum, adorned in casual clothes as opposed to the school uniform he had on last time. You can only wonder what kind of danger he puts his students in if he has this side to him.

He still wears those fancy Cartier sunglasses indoors and you don’t understand why—is it just symbolic of the fact that he’s richer than most people? It kind of seems it.

“Princess? Suguru? I’m baaaaaack,” Gojo announces in a singsong tone as he greets Geto with a quick smooch. You wince. Geto has kept his hands off of you for the most part in the first week. Perhaps in an effort to be hospitable and warm. But Gojo definitely has a lot in mind for you.

It’s a Friday evening. In another world, you’re probably helping yourself to a whole bottle of wine while binging terrible chick flicks until you pass out. But nope. Life has other cruel plans for you, and it’s all because of Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

Like Geto’s told you, he wants Gojo’s part of the deal fulfilled. You have to smile and bear it. You’re back in that underground dungeon but at least you’re a bit freer to move for the time being. This is where Geto arranges Gojo to meet for their ‘secret’ meetings that not even the girls know about, apparently. Gojo and Geto are supposedly playing on different sides of some war going on and you don’t care to dig into it all that much. It doesn’t involve you, anyway.

There’s a large, opulent, red velvet couch where you’re seated on, and Gojo slides in with you, yanking you into his lap as his hands are already all over your breasts just like before.

He whimpers into your ear; an unmistakable hardness rubs against your bottom. He smirks into your skin as he buries your face into your neck. A hand works to spring his cock free from his pants. Your eyes widen. Of course his cock is fucking huge.

“Suguru says we need to ease you into it, but I think you can handle it,” he mutters, removing your robe and pulling your panties aside. His finger drags down your folds, already a bit damp, and he sighs dreamily as he inspects the slick coating his fingers. “Hm. We need to slick you up just a bit more before I insert it, hm? Stretch you out with my fingers first?”

Through his endless babbling, you don’t notice he’s already slipped two fingers easily inside, cooing sweet nothings into your ear as your spongy walls are already squeezing around him. Geto soon accompanies you, settling onto the couch beside Gojo.

“Satoru,” he murmurs, “Completely lost patience, have you?”

They share a chaste kiss, and Gojo slips a third finger, making you keen from the wide stretch.

“Can’t help it, Suguru,” he pouts, keeping a gentle yet quick pace. “Been thinking about this pussy too long.”

Geto observes the scene unfold, his lips twitching into a smirk as his eyes fall to your pussy glistening in your building, soppy slick. Finally, he pulls them out, only to bring his fingers to Geto’s lips so he can suck them clean, groaning at your taste as Gojo lines the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

“Fuck, such a tight pussy, and the head’s not even all the way in,” Gojo chuckles, and you manage to shoot a glare which only seems to make him giddier as he inches more of his length inside. “Don’t worry, Princess. I won’t be moving. Just getting you used to it first. I promised Suguru we’d take things slow with you.”

Soon you’re fully seated on his cock, and God, his size stretches you so wide and fills you up to the brim. When he moves even fhe slightest bit you can feel his tip brush against that spot.

“Your tight little asshole must feel so empty,” Gojo coos in a condescending way, as he turns to Geto still slurping on his fingers for anything left of your essence before he retracts his hand. “Suguru?”

“She’ll need a bit more prep for mine in there, even if we’re not moving, don’t you think?” Geto muses as he drops to his knees, spitting into your back hole. You gasp in shock.

You can’t even fight it.

His tongue rims the ring of your ass before the tip catches. Geto lets out a low groan, his tongue laving around the rim a few more times before he plunges it inside.

“Su-Suguru…?”

“Oh, already on first name basis, are we? In that case, let me here you say mine,” Gojo purrs as he presses open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“S-Satoru…” you hate how weak and meek you sound, but you’re being assaulted on both ends.

“Fuck, my name sounds so good from you,” he growls, nipping at your supple skin, leaving behind deep marks.

Geto fucks his tongue deep inside your ass and you squirm a bit in Gojo’s hold. He’s the one tutting this time, gripping your waist.

“Go ahead, baby,” he taunts with a wide, manic grin. “The more you squirm, the tighter you feel. And fuck, do you fit my cock like the perfect little sleeve.”

Gojo whips out his phone, tapping record as Geto continues to twist his tongue deep inside and you can feel his wide smile as he performs for the camera. Luckily Gojo doesn’t record for long, slipping his phone back into his pocket, focusing on lounging as you’re warming up his cock with your twitching insides.

“Hey Princess, ever given a blowjob before?” Gojo asks as Geto pries his tongue out, only to soon replace it, teasing the ring of muscle with the girthy tip of his cock.

You shake your head. Gojo hums, tutting again as he pets your hair.

“No worries,” he laughs as Geto inches the head of himself inside of you, making you bite your cheek hard to avoid shrieking. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Somuchsomuchtoomuch—!

Geto finally has his entire size inside of you. And you’re filled to the brim in both holes. You feel like such a slut.

Your breathing becomes more broken. It’s so full.

You deflate between the two men. Tweedledee and Tweedledum really isn’t that far off the mark from describing them, right?

“You’re taking us better than we expected,” Geto purrs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Like I said before, it must definitely feel good to get real cock in there.”

“Just how much of a slut are you if you’ve been wearing these sexy panties and bras when you’re single? Were you secretly hoping for something like this to happen to you?” Gojo teases, playfully smacking your ass a bit too hard, making you yelp. “Our Princess really is that lonely, hmmm?”

“Satoru,” Geto admonishes, but he doesn’t seem to be all that angry, rather just as entertained. “Remember what I said about picking on the helpless too much.”

“You’re seriously on about that again?” Gojo scoffs, playfully bucking his hips to brush against that spot and making you gasp again. “Fiiiiine. I’ll play nice.”

“Please, it’s too much,” you beg through a moan.

“Oh? Is it really? Are you sure? But your holes are practically begging to milk our cocks dry,”’Gojo jives, nipping at your bottom lip before laving his tongue along it to soothe the mark forming there.

“Yes, little dove. We have to train you a bit, you know,” Geto continues, a finger tracing down your arm. “We’re kind enough not to pull the cart before the horse. We could have chosen to be crueler but that would prove ineffective.”

“Yeah, besides,” Gojo murmurs into your lips before softly pecking them. “There’s no fun in breaking someone we would rather cherish and spoil.”

Are these pieces of shit out of their goddamn minds!?

“I…” you whisper, clenching your fists as Geto adjusts in his spot a bit. “Please it’s too much…” You repeat, hoping they show you mercy and relent.

Gojo and Geto share a glance. Sighing, Geto is the first to pull out, but he’s shuffling around the room to find something. Perhaps a compromise.

Gojo finally pulls out, but keeps you secured in his lap. He spreads your legs wide and rests his large, calloused hands on your inner thighs. His grip is firm, as if daring you to try to break free. You know better than to try. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your fresh scent.

“Just got cleaned up and now we’re going to make a mess out of you again,” he chuckles darkly. Geto returns, a large vibrator wand and dildo in either hand. You pale at the sight. The very models you have used before…just how long have they been tracking you?

“While this goes here,” Geto announces in an authoritative tone, wriggling that long, slender pink dildo inside of your back hole without much an issue since it’s been stretched by his size a considerate amount. “This goes here…”

“Hold still, Princess,” Gojo purrs into your ear as you hear the click of Geto switching the vibrator wand on at a moderate setting. He pries your folds apart and rests it between them, and you shout in protest.

“No, no, no, please,” you weep, thrashing a bit in Gojo’s hold but with not much success. His grip on your thighs tighten, and it doesn’t even look like he’s putting much effort into holding you down yet here you are, struggling to break free. They’re not even bothering to use any real restraints because they can handle you on their own. You’re not sure what to make of that.

“I’m sorry, my love, but if this is going to work, you need to let us do this,” Geto commands as he massages the tip of the wand up and along your pussy. Already there’s the squelch, slorp, slick of your intimate juices. It’s so fucking humiliating and yet you find yourself inching yourself closer to the sensation. All the while Gojo’s fucking the dildo into your ass, sinking it all the way in and out. They work together like the perfect team of menaces, and that’s exactly what they are.

“Fuck, please, I can’t,” you whine as you feel your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave crashing over you. You shiver as your ass flutters around the dildo. Your pussy is pulsing against the vibrator and Geto decides to amp up the setting just a bit more.

“Yes you can,” Geto demands with a dangerous smile, pushing the vibrator to your circle your clit. “Let’s see if we can get a few more, hm? We know this isn’t your first rodeo with toys like these. I’m sure you’ve gotten carried away on your own.”

So what if you have?

He leans in, eyes locked on yours. “We won’t stop until we get five more out of you.”

“Damn,” Gojo laughs under his breath. “What happened to taking things slow?”

Geto gives him a non-committal hum. “Perhaps I lost patience, too.”

[madockisser]

cardan/nicasia: why they’ll never happen again analysis/speculation

a while back i saw someone (or rather, a thread of ppl saying that they hope cardan and nicasia don’t get it on in the next book which is supposed to be nicasias book (supposedly) and i even saw someone say they WISH THEY DO ?!

so here’s your fun reminder of what nicasia put cardan through!

I’ve gathered together all the shit nicasia did to cardan: being the first girl he loved then breaking his heart w his friend, allowing cardan to catch them ON HIS BEDROOM FLOOR. (not entirely her fault but she totally had shits and giggles abt it when cardan confronted her) then when Locke screwed her over, she got CARDAN and his power as prince, to harass the girl(s) locke chose over her, one of which cardan liked, then later on was trying to manipulate him to marry her (which i think is when cardan realized they weren’t rly even friends anymore), THEN kidnapping and torturing the girl she knew cardan loved, AND befriending his abusive neglectful mother!

like damn. how u even fumble that bad, not just romantically but as a friend.

also I’d like to add her consistent entitlement, not just the whole “i bully girls bc I’m a princess and i can!” but the “cardan take me back even after i emotionally ruined you multiple times!” 😐

poor cardan

anyway, I’ve read lots of holly black books, and she is VERY mindful w abusive sort of relationships. and cheating relationships. she writes about them a LOT and each time they are pretty irredeemable.

note(the only exceptions):Taryn and hazel (darkest part of the forest) who sorta cheated on accident/ it wasn’t their fault-> but didn’t end well

add on note sorry: “but nicasia cheated on cardan on accident bc Locke was a gancanagh!” false! nicasia admitted that what her and Locke were doing was prolonged, the scene that cardan finds them is not their first time screwing around. nicasia KNOWINGLY cheated on cardan. then she was like “ok but i still care abt u! take me back” ?

now you can say that it could sorta be classified as an accident due to lockes natures (which are actually really disturbing if u think abt it) and that’s true, i never blamed nicasia for that relationship, but i do blame her for all the utter dogshit she not only put cardan thru, but Jude.

and this is cardan we are talking about. he who killed half an army for Jude when madoc tried taking his daughter back (sounds funny out of context).

we must remember that cardan does not want Jude hurt and humiliated and that’s exactly what nicasia went and did to Jude. through all the books bro. nicasia literally kidnapped and tortured Jude in the undersea so there’s 0 chance of cardan touching nicasia unless maybe to turn her into a tree again (but he can always just do that at a distance 😛)

anyway back to the cheating:

which is why i know that holly would never pull any sort of bull w cardan and nicasia, and you may be thinking (well that’s bullshit what do u know?) 3 separate books w cheating tropes, and 5+ diff relationships that involve cheating w no redemption. LOL

anyway black and i certainly agree on that front, and the way she uses the trope so consistently, and makes it so the cheaters are never endgame, or have a horrible death (Locke AND his mom, also Eva Duarte 😭the dude Ben dated from dpotf, and Kaye and that guy Janet was dating, Val and Tom and dave and lolli (modern faerie tales)) is pretty telling!

holly is great at writing healthy relationships, and she knows that tcp is her biggest hit w the media, so she won’t go and fuck that, not just bc she would never and it’s out of her writing style and character and literally moral compass when it comes to writing relationships, but also bc her publishers/editors would NEVER let that slide.

but i can’t wait for her book! i love knowing that nicasia will never have a chance w cardan again, it’s no less than what she deserves 😋

anyway sorry for ranting! I just feel so strongly abt this topic, cardan would never cheat on Jude, since he’s been cheated on before, and it was heart wrenching, and bc of his upbringing, he would never. if you haven’t, go thru my masterlist in my pinned and find the cardan /nicasia thing where i explain why he wouldn’t cheat far better there!

But feel free to add on, i probably missed a few things so lmk!! 🫶

[passivenovember]

(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)

When Billy Falls in Love

--

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red. 

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here-- 

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag. 

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows. 

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close. 

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar. 

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him? 

About his bones and blood. 

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--” 

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull. 

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

--

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue. 

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking. 

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black. 

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back. 

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness. 

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him, 

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock. 

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong. 

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies. 

If it kills him. 

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers. 

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington?  What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away. 

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky. 

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks. 

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks. 

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this. 

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

--

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt. 

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard. 

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door. 

Eddie doesn’t move. 

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up. 

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him. 

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy. 

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?” 

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him. 

He smells like peaches. 

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch. 

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare. 

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image. 

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

Billy stops. Waits. 

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning. 

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And. 

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does. 

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now. 

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then. 

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy. 

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him. 

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?” 

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.” 

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.” 

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.” 

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.” 

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.” 

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”  

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?” 

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.” 

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.” 

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.” 

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”  

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars. 

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking. 

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.  

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.” 

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf. 

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.” 

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?” 

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”  

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”   

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl. 

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?” 

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.” 

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”   

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough… 

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby. 

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek. 

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point. 

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?” 

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”  

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.” 

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment. 

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.” 

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me. 

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?” 

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?” 

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?” 

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?” 

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though. 

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.” 

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.” 

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?” 

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?” 

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?” 

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his? 

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.” 

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.” 

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.” 

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show. 

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.” 

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could. 

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.  

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.” 

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.  

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.” 

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.” 

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?” 

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.” 

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.” 

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.”  Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment. 

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” 

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.” 

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat. 

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me. 

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.” 

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?” 

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.” 

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?” 

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.” 

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.” 

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.” 

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.” 

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.” 

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.” 

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.” 

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.   

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off. 

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.   

 Dieter’s POV 

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day? 

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days. 

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home. 

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.  

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.    

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!” 

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored. 

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming. 

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing. 

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple. 

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first. 

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.” 

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.” 

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.” 

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…” 

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure. 

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.   

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.”  I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.” 

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?” 

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.” 

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?” 

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.” 

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.  

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?” 

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.” 

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position. 

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.” 

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting. 

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”    

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances. 

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble. 

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”   

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?” 

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming. 

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.” 

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face. 

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission. 

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.” 

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?” 

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.” 

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.” 

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”  

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok... 

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring  @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime  @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75 @pedrostories

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

[novankenn]

What If...

Pyrrha was also under the sway of Salem Cinder and Pyrrha love each other (Pompeii) Jaune and Emerald are married (Topaz) Jaune and Emerald have a child (Jasmine Esmeralda Arc) Jaune and Emerald are on the run from Salem & Ozpin

Scene : A cheap motel in Argus

==> @cheeseeater2 - What if Nora and Ren find Jaune and Emerald with the kid and let them go if only for the child to be safe. Jaune says even if they hate him forever he loves them and hopes they can be happy one day.

Of all the things Ren and Nora expected after hearing that Jaune had left with Pyrrha during the fall, and then discovering that he and Emerald were on the run from Salem's agents. Finding himself held at gun-point by the man he used to consider a brother, was not one of them.

It had been a stroke of luck, finding out Jaune and Emerald were expecting. It was through idle chit-chat with the other tenants of the apartment building Jaune and Emerald had been living in for the last almost year... before vanishing days before a fire gutted the building. So as they continued their counter operations against Salem's machinations, they kept checking local medical centers and hospitals.

At a stop over in Argus, about a year after the last lead that went cold at the apartment complex. Nora had decided on a whim to check the local hospital, and much to her utter shock she caught site of Emerald leaving with a bundle cradled in her arms. So cautiously she followed the obviously new mother, tracing her back to a rather shabby motel.

A scroll call and Ren was beside her with in twenty minutes. A hint of intimidation and they had the room number. The flimsy wooden door was no obstacle for Nora. She was through it at the first hit of her shoulder. Ren was inside a fraction of a second after Nora burst through the door. The screaming of a startled child, and the yells of a young women, filled the room. But what Ren really focused on was the cold barrel of a rather nasty pistol being pressed against the center of his chest.

"You don't want to do this Jaune." Ren calmly informed his former team leader. "This will just make things worse."

"You right Ren, I don't want to do this, but to protect my wife and my daughter... I will." Jaune replied, his voice measured, and forced like he was fighting the potential of his own emotions surfacing. "Back away Nora."

"Jaune, why?" Nora asked as she stepped back away from the door she had just smashed in.

"I made a mistake." Jaune replied. "Both Em and I did."

"And what do you call this?" Ren asked nodding towards the pistol pressed against his chest.

"Protecting our second chance." Jaune replied. "Em, are you and her okay?"

"We are, she's just a little scared." Emerald answered, as she gently rocked the bundle in her arms. "Shush that's okay sweetie. It's okay, daddy will keep the bad people away from us."

"We're not... bad people." Nora countered.

"Really?" Emerald asked. "You've been trying to find us for years. Chasing us from place to place. Making us uproot, time and time again just so we can have a life away from all the bullshit."

"But..."

"We made mistakes. We were lied to. Led on." Emerald cut Nora off. "We figured it out too late to stop them, so we left."

"And have Ozpin's and Salem's minions dogging us all over Remnant." Jaune added. "We're out. We want to be left in peace. We know nothing, nor do we want to know anything. We're out."

"Jaune, you know..."

"Who says it can't be that way? Ozpin? Salem?" Jaune countered. "Fuck them and their little war!"

"Jaune, language!' Emerald hissed as she continued to placate the fussy infant.

"I'm sorry, but the point remains. We're out. We just want to make a life, for us and our daughter. A quiet life." Jaune expanded upon his original statement. "Both of you away from the door."

"Jaune, this isn't the right way. Come back with us? Ozpin can..."

"Ozpin is a failure." Jaune rebutted. "If he had any brains or sense he would have at least had an idea that Salem was trying something after the breach."

"None of us..."

"No, we didn't." Jaune agreed, "But we we're students, why would we have? The ones in power should have been protecting us. Like I will Em and Jas."

"Jas?" Nora asked as she moved as far from the door, as she could without getting any closer to Emerald or the infant. "Is that her name? Jas?"

"Jasmine Esmeralda Arc." Emerald informed the group. "She's named after our mothers."

Jasmine started to fuss more.

"Is she..."

"She's hungry." Emerald answered as she adjusted how she was holding Jasmine while lifting the left side of her shirt to feed her bundle of joy.

"I'm sorry it came to this." Jaune commented as he moved himself to be standing between Emerald and the now sitting Nora and Ren, his pistol still trained on Ren. "I never wanted to hurt you, either of you. You mean too much to me, but..."

"Jasmine and Emerald mean more." Nora finished his statement. "I can understand that."

"Are you truly happy Jaune?" Ren asked, keeping his hands flat on his lap, in clear view. "I mean really happy?"

"I am." Jaune replied. "I... we made our mistakes, but Jas is the best of both of us, and she deserves a future."

"A future you're willing to kill to protect?" Ren asked.

"You need to understand, Ren. I don't want to, but I will. To protect Em and Jas, I will put down anyone that comes after us."

"What are you going to do now?" Nora asked, trying to lean just enough to see Emerald and her baby.

"Same as we always do when you two or Cinder and Pyrrha get too close. We'll leave, and find somewhere new."

"That's not much of a life." Ren commented. "Always on the run. Is that fair to Jasmine? To Emerald? To you?"

"If I could change it. If I could fix it, I would... but there's fat chance of that happening, isn't there."

"Can I... can I hold her?" Nora tentatively asked. "I won't do anything, I swear, I just... I just feel this need..."

"I don't..."

"It's okay Jaune." Emerald cut him off. "I trust her enough not to hurt Jas. She's not the type."

Emerald stood, up after burping Jasmine, and slowly approached, keeping out of Jaune's line of fire. She loved him, wholly, and she understood is consuming drive and need to keep her and their daughter safe. She had the same compulsion.

"Watch her head." Emerald softly instructed Nora as she lay the precious bundle of joy. Jaune and her little miracle into Nora's arms.

"She's so small." Nora whispered, a sad smile on her face. "She's so small."

"Jaune, put it away." Emerald smiled at him as she crouched next to Nora who was completely enamored with little Jasmine.

Jaune hesitated for a fraction of a moment and then reached up and pushed the pistol back up into his sleeve. Ren heard the click of the mechanism resetting.

"Ren," Nora softly spoke. "We can't keep chasing them. We need to help them."

"Nora?"

"She's so small, and innocent. She shouldn't have to suffer for Jaune and Emerald's mistakes." Nora commented her eyes never leaving the beautiful if but slightly chubby face. "This is a fresh start for them... and us."

"Us?" Ren asked.

"I hate what Pyrrha did. How she used us all. How she broke our trust... but I want to help protect this little one. I want to do that more than chasing Jaune or Emerald." Nora made a kissy face as Emerald smiled. "Everything we're doing is about the future right? Protecting it?"

"I guess." Ren responded.

"Then let's help them. Let's let this little one have the family the Grimm robbed us of..." Nora's eyes started to tear up, emotions she thought long gone washing over her.

"It's okay, Nora." Emerald comforted her one time enemy. "It's okay."

"There might be a way." Ren sighed as he spoke. "Because to be honest I'm tired of chasing you Jaune."

"If it's any consolation, we're tired of being chased by you." Jaune gave his former teammate a soft smile.

"Would you stay in Vale, if we could get you in without anyone knowing? If we could help you get settled? Would you stay?"

Jaune looked to Emerald who was still hovering over Nora, rubbing her back in gentle circles as Nora tried to get control of her emotions. Emerald gave Jaune a smile and a nod.

"I would, if we can be safe. Unmolested?"

"Only Nora and I would know. Not even Ozpin will be any the wiser."

"Tell me why?" Jaune point blank asked.

"I want my family back together, despite the mistakes we've all made." Ren replied. "You're our family Jaune, and we miss you."

"I miss you as well." Jaune responded.

"So, can you really help us? Keep us secret and safe?" Emerald asked as Nora, at Emerald's urging, transferred Jasmine back into her arms.

"We can." Ren replied.

"No," Nora spoke her voice breaking slightly. "We will."

Jaune swallowed hard, and moved forward, his arms spread accepting Nora and Ren into a hug that had been forever in the making. A familial embrace they had all missed.

[turtletaubwrites]

A Swordsman's Shame

This fic is based off of this request for headcanons of Zoro with a reader that is also a skilled swordsman with a unique and powerful sword. Then I received this lovely request to add to those headcanons with what would happen if that reader carried shame on their back. I hope you enjoy! ⚔

Pairings: Zoro x GN!Swordsman!Reader

Word Count: 1530

Ao3 Link

Summary: You and Zoro have the same dream, and it's built a passion between you. But something has been holding you back, keeping you from opening yourself up to your crewmate, your rival, your fellow swordsman.

Rating/Warnings: SFW, GN!Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Angst, Making Out, Mention of Blood and Violence, Sweat, (they've been sparring), Suggestive, Anger, Shame

A/N: The first request didn't specify, so I went with a GN!Reader for the headcanons. I know this request used she/her pronouns, but I did my best to stick with GN since that's what I did for the previous. I hope I did well with that, and I hope you still enjoy it!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

Another sparring session cut short. The clashing of blades replaced with the clashing of tongues as you raked your fingers through that green hair.

The hint of a growl from Zoro’s throat sent your eyes rolling back, his lips moving to your neck as you pulled him closer. 

His calloused fingers found the edge of your shirt, heated skin touching yours as he trailed up your lower back. 

“I’m sorry,” he panted, hands outstretched after you’d broken away from him, practically leaping to escape. 

“It– It’s fine,” you lied, trying not to pace as your skin flushed with embarrassment instead of passion. 

A few awkward moments passed before you mirrored Zoro as he sat against a tree. 

“Y/N,” he started, and you wondered how he would ask this time.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… Do you not wanna be with me?”

Fuck.

All these months together, training, fighting, saving each other. Finally meeting someone with the same drive, the same dream. 

You couldn’t even remember when you’d first fallen upon each other, who’d won the fight, if you’d even sheathed your swords before your sweat covered bodies had clashed in this new, exhilarating way. 

And now your shame was hurting him too.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep pathetic tears from welling, you stared at the grass between your clenched fingers. The ghost of a smile touched your lips at the thought of how similar those greens were.

“I want to be with you, Zoro,” you confessed quietly, watching his face slowly brighten, a crooked smile on those lips. 

“There’s just something…”

Your head fell back, hitting against the tree a few times as you tried to decide what to say. 

The truth? More bullshit? Goodbye?

His warm, rough fingers took yours, and you opened your eyes to find him so close.

“I wanna be with you too,” he shared with that little smile, before it turned into a smirk. “Even if you won’t let me touch that fancy sword of yours.”

“Never gonna happen,” you laughed, loving how he could always pull you out of a bad mood. 

Zoro waited for you, and you knew he could wait forever. He could sit here with you, or nap, and never rush it out of you.

Lips parted. Words almost came out. But there was that disgusting feeling bubbling inside. And as much as you wanted to trust him with this, he was the only person in your life that would understand, that would pity you. 

Zoro’s powerful hands massaged yours gently, relaxing the tense muscles after your fight. 

Those steady eyes focused on his task, giving you the same dedication he gives to everything. 

Please, Zoro. Please let me be right. Please be someone I can trust. 

He tensed as you pulled your hand away, dark eyes earnest as he watched your face. 

A list of excuses and explanations almost poured from your lips, but you held your breath. 

Fresh sweat dripped down your damp skin as you turned your body, turned your back to him. 

Shaking fingers almost gave up, but you pushed through. 

Bile rose in your throat as you lifted your shirt to show him. 

Your greatest shame. 

His silence felt worse than a blade, and you fought your body not to run.

Rough fingers left the gentlest of touches, bringing a gasp from you, and soft apologies from him. 

Stop shaking, you shouted in your mind, trying to be still as his fingers explored.

Those fingers trailed along your scar, the sensation sending chills over your skin. 

“So this is why…” 

Unable to stand it any longer, you tore away from his touch, pulling your shirt down as you faced those serious eyes. 

“I didn’t want…” you started, waiting for the ax to fall. Zoro’s face was intense, but you couldn’t read him, couldn’t prepare. “I didn’t want you to see.”

More silence. 

Humiliation filled your body, burning the longer he studied you.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to see?”

The derisive laugh that ripped from your throat felt like poison, like your body was grabbing onto the first thing that wasn’t shame. Anger.

It made you feel even more pathetic, but you couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Why do you think, Zoro? I’ve heard you say it. Hell, you almost died just to make sure it never happened to you. You would rather die than live with the shame.”

The anger in your voice grew sharp and loud, the clanging of swords. 

Until the last few words choked out, a sob finally escaping. You had to escape.

“Y/N, wait!”

Those rough hands couldn’t reach you in time, you and your sword fleeing through the trees as if distance could make the shame grow smaller. 

“Stop.”

Bark scraped across your shoulders as your crewmate shoved you into a tree, gripping your arms so tight you knew there’d be bruises.

“Just forget it,” you pleaded, looking anywhere but his eyes. “You win, okay? I’ll never be the greatest. I’ll always carry my failure on my back. I’ll alway–”

Zoro’s lips on yours was such a shock that you froze, mind going blank. The kiss was over so fast you felt dizzy, and those rough hands rubbing along your arms were your only anchor. 

“I’ve been lucky,” he nearly shouted in your face, the slight crack in his voice making your mouth fall open. 

“I’ve been lucky,” he continued, voice quieter, but no less fierce. “Yeah, I’ve kicked some fucking ass. But there have been a few times when I got fucking wrecked. If a swordsman had found me in those moments, if you or another crewmate hadn’t been there, I could have had the same scar.”

Heat was high in your throat. Part of you ached to take his comfort, but all you felt was the shame of his pity. 

“But you don't have it. I do.”

Zoro resisted your gentle push against his chest, pressing you against the tree a little harder. Tilting his head toward you, he trapped you with those dark, frantic eyes. 

“I know the kind of fighter you are. Did it make you stronger?”

“What,” you asked, your brows tensing with the headache all the emotions were building. He broke the fog as he shook you, hands still trapping your arms.

“Did getting that scar on your back make you stronger?”

This time the silence was yours, and Zoro waited like he always does. 

That fight, that loss. It had stripped you down. You’d nearly been killed, but it felt like being left alive was worse. Another insult. 

Crawling out of that self loathing, making the choice to still try, it was the hardest thing you’d ever done. But you never let it go.

The shame stayed with you, just as the scar always would. You could never achieve your goal, so why try? You were a fraud, hiding your flaws, and hoping no one would see what a joke you were. Already a failure.

“Did it make you stronger,” his deep voice came softly as he coaxed you out of your spiral.

Self doubt still held you, the feeling of being an imposter in your own life had been too solid for too long. 

Words almost left your lips. 

Zoro stopped waiting. 

“Y/N, you got back up. You train just as hard as me. One day we’ll really have to fight, and I’m not gonna take that title just because you think you don’t deserve it. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I–”

“Come on, swordsman,” he taunted, drawing his blades as he stepped away. “You think you’re not good enough? I’m gonna kick your ass then. I’ll finally take that cool sword of yours.”

“The fuck you will,” you spat, feeling that spark that he could always ignite in you.

“Ooh, big talk for a quitter.”

Your sword was drawn without a thought, the motion natural, like it was part of you.

“You talk too much,” you breathed as you started to circle each other.

“Ha, I think you’re the only person who’d say–”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me,” you seethed as you clashed against him, his defense not up to par.

“Won’t happen again, swordsman,” he growled, his blades meeting yours as your dance began.

Nothing like it. There was nothing like having an equal to train with. 

An equal. 

Someday you wouldn’t be. Someday one of you would go further, would take everything. Someday one of you might die on the other’s blade.

But for now, you danced. You fought beside each other, you challenged each other, you competed and trained like savages just to keep up, to stay equals. 

Your rival was right. That shame had made you stronger. 

And maybe you didn’t need it anymore. 

The clash of swords was cut short. The clash of tongues began. And his rough fingers tore away the disguise, the mask you never let down. 

Your greatest shame was bared to the forest, and Zoro’s soft kisses along your scar felt like freedom. 

The weight of shame on your back was lifted by that promise.

One day you might kill your rival.

But today, you might love him. 

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: You know, I wasn't sure about this one, but after editing, I'm pretty pleased. Guess we've all got that imposter syndrome sometimes 😅 Go believe in yourself, Zoro says so! 💚

Tag List: @shewrites02

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[mrsriddles-blog]

Get Him Back | D.M

Pairing: Slytherin Fem Reader X Ex-Draco Malfoy X Theodore Nott

WC: 4k+

Warnings/Notes: Bullying, mild language, heartbreak, angst…

Summary: In which, you and Draco ended on a bad note and you’ve decided to seek out revenge…but unexpectedly you fall in love.

Authors Notes: Honestly, not my best piece… :/ I know I could’ve done better, but I kinda just went with it on this. Theodore was unplanned lol

One, two, three

Wait, is the song with the drums?

“Draco, I understand that Miss. Y/n Riddle is quite pretty, but I would like for you to pay attention to my lesson.” Professor McGonagall says.

The class laughs and you refuse to turn around to give Draco that attention after everything you had been through with him. Pansy smiles sadly at you, seeing exactly how much this hurt you.

You knew Draco from around Hogwarts, but you both had gotten together over the summer after getting closer once your families came to know each other. Everything was perfect in the beginning, but it all came crashing down eventually.

Draco is quite good at hiding his true colors, especially at the beginning of a relationship. You learned that he hid those true colors for so long in hopes it would be harder for you to leave…that you would learn to deal with it like it was normal.

You’ve told Pansy that somewhere in his delusional mind that he must’ve forgotten you're a Riddle and you don’t put up with anyones bullshit. You don’t tolerate anyone's disrespect though…maybe a bad trait you picked up from your father, but it’s okay.

Draco was a sweet guy, but then it turned out he had a big ego and he was a narcissistic liar. He was the most fun guy you knew and he had weird friends like Crabbe and Goyle. They were funny too. He used his name and money to get you both into the coolest parties, nights that you felt like would never end.

But, then he started to show more of his true colors. He learned when he began to say things wrong or his lies somehow got twisted back on himself, that he could just take you to a place you dreamed of or to buy you a “sentimental” gift. You found yourself missing him on nights you felt really sad or alone, but your feelings for him were up and down. You knew you wanted to get him back for what he did to you. You want him to hurt the way he hurt you.

I met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring

He argued with me about everything

He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye

He said he’s six-foot-two, and I’m like, “Dude, nice try”

But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends

And he would take us out to parties and the night would never end

Another song, another club, another bar, another dance

And when he said something wrong, he’d just fly me to France

So I miss him some nights when I’m feeling depressed

‘Til I remember every time he made a pass on my friend

Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it’s up and down

If I had to choose, I would say right now

Pansy was dressed as an angel for the Halloween party and you were dressed as a devil. You wore a tight black mini-dress, and Pansy wore a tight white mini-dress. She had angel wings and a halo while you had devil horns and a tail. She wore white heels while you wore black. You stood in the corner with Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo and Blaise as you watched Pansy go get you both drinks.

She was on her way back when Draco approached her. You watch his flirty smile as he trails his hand up her arm to her face. You watch as that flirty smile dropped and his face twisted to one of pain as he crouched down to grab himself. You smirk as Pansy strides to you and hands you a green solo cup.

“Can you believe him? He just tried to make a pass on me? After the shit he did to you, he thought he had a chance with your bestie? He truly is a delusional fuck.” She snorts.

“He did that a lot when we were dating. He always had a wandering eye…I just thought I was being over-sensitive or something.” You say, glancing over at Draco who was now sulking at the bar.

“Hey, don’t let that dumb fuck make you sad. He is nothing to you.” She says sternly.

You smile, unconvinced as you down the drink in your cup. Mattheo and Tom watch with frowns, knowing very well you weren’t over Draco. They looked at each other before making their way over to the bar. You and Pansy moved out to the dance floor, dancing as Enzo and Theodore kept watch over you both.

You both stopped dancing like everyone else as you heard a commotion. You follow the shouting and see your brothers beating the fuck out of Draco. You push through the crowd, trying to diffuse the fight when Theodore wraps an arm around your waist.

“He deserves it fiore, just let it go.” He murmurs in your ear.

“But, if we don’t break this up…Tom and Mattheo could potentially get caught. If Snape hears this, he will be so mad. If they get in trouble and our dad finds out…they’ll get in so much trouble.” You say.

“Trust me, they won’t get in trouble. Your father has requested this to happen.” He murmurs.

You were at a loss for words as Mattheo and Tom stepped back, leaving Draco on the floor. He barely lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours before Mattheo throws another punch at his face, cursing him for even daring to look at you. You struggle against Theodore, but you manage to reach forward and put a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder.

“Matty, please.” You plead.

“This fucker deserves this and more for everything he did to you.” He snaps.

You flinch, not use to that tone from Mattheo. Growing up with the father you had, you three were always together. Granted, you three had a strange bond for being triplets, but your brothers had shown you a side they never showed anyone. Mattheo tensed as Tom sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he glares at Mattheo.

You take your hand off his shoulder, pulling away from Theodore before storming through the crowd before hearing a random girl laugh about you being sensitive. You turn, throwing a punch at her nose, hearing the satisfying crack as she falls backwards, unconscious.

You turn, continuing your trek to your dorm where you slam the door, locking it before lying on your bed. You grab the jumper that was Draco’s. You had stolen it from him, it was his favorite. You throw it in the fireplace, watching it burn with a sick satisfaction growing in the pit of your stomach.

I wanna get him back

I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

Oh, I wanna get him back

‘Cause then again, I really miss him, and it makes me real sad

Oh, I want sweet revenge

And I want him again

I want to get him back, back, back

“You can’t ignore me forever.” Mattheo sighs as he follows you to the Great Hall.

“She can, and she probably will.” Tom says, following as well, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

“She is ignoring you too dipshit.” He snaps.

Draco walks up to you, glancing at your brothers fearfully and you tilt your head at him, a small smirk on your face.

“Y/n/n, can we talk?” He asks.

“No.” You say.

“I want…I want to apologize…I messed up, royally and I just…I really miss you.” He says.

“Hey, fiore.” Theodore says, coming up beside you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, leaning down to kiss your head. You look up at him and smile. He smiled back, your brothers gaping at you both from behind you guys.

“You’ve…moved on with the guy I was worried about you cheating on me with?” He asks in disbelief.

“Malfoy…if I were you, I’d get out of my fucking face. If you truly knew Y/n, you would know you wouldn’t have to worry about her cheating. When she gives you the chance to love her as she does you, you take that fucking chance and hold onto it fucking tight.” Theodore says, splaying a hand on your back and stomach as he angles himself between you and Draco.

Draco scoffs, looking you over once before storming out of the Great Hall. You look up at Theodore and smile.

“Couldn’t have had better timing.” You say and he grins.

“Oh, I know.” He says.

“Um, excuse me. When the fuck did this happen?” Mattheo asks, stepping between you two, Theodore’s hands leaving you.

“We are fake dating in order to get Draco back. I wanted revenge and I decided to hit him where it hurts.” You explain.

“Fake dating…right.” He murmurs, looking at Theodore.

“Come on, fiore.” Theodore says, walking you to the table.

“Awww, I broke my streak of ignoring them.” You grumble.

“I think you ignored them long enough, fiore. They’ve apologized more than I’ve witnessed them fight…and they fight a lot.” He says, chuckling as your brothers take a seat at the table.

“So, what are the rules for this…fake dating?” Mattheo asks.

“No falling in love.” You say, picking at your plate of food.

“Like that ever works.” Mattheo mumbles, Tom the only one able to hear him.

Theodore wraps his arm around your waist, looking over at you for a moment. You glance down the table to see Draco glaring at Theodore. You felt a tinge of pride before you felt guilty for the fake-dating thing with Theodore. You knew he always had feelings for you, but you hoped that he’d get over it. But, by how easily he agreed to this plan of yours…you were pretty sure there were some underlying feelings there still.

So I write him all these letters and I throw them in the trash

‘Cause I miss the way he kisses me and the way he made me laugh

Yeah, I pour my little heart out, but as I’m hitting “Send”

I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends

Because everyone knew all of the shit that he’d do

He said I was the only girl but that just wasn’t the truth

And when I told him how he hurt me, he’d tell me I was trippin’

But I am my father’s daughter, so maybe I could fix him

“Theodore, are you ready?” You groan impatiently.

“Almost, fiore.” He calls from the bathroom.

You walk over to the mirror in his dorm, smoothing out the skin-tight dark green dress. You fix your hair, before looking yourself over in the mirror once more. You nod just as Theodore walks out. You look over to see him dressed in black dress pants, a white button up shirt that wasn’t buttoned all the way. Some of his sculpted chest was on show. His hair was a fluffy mess as usual.

“You look beautiful, fiore.” He murmurs.

Your cheeks flush red, smiling shyly at him as you nod. He chuckles, one that went straight to your core. You guys walk out and decide to immediately go to dance. As you're dancing, his eyes flicker over your shoulder as they harden.

He pulls you closer to him, his hand wandering down your ass and grabbing it roughly. You gasp, looking up at him to see him look down at you. He leans down and kisses you, one that is deep and passionate. Your hands get lost in his hair and you realize that somewhere along the way, you broke the number one rule: don't fall in love.

Somewhere along the way, you fell for his tender love and care. Not to mention how sweet and gentle he was with you. He treated you as if you were royalty and it was sweet. You found yourself loving the way he laughs and the way he grabs your ass. You pull back, only to pull him back into a kiss.

“I think I broke our rule.” You whisper against his lips.

“You didn’t say anything about already being in love, so I technically didn’t break it. I just hoped that maybe you’d realized how much you mean to me.” He murmurs.

“I’m sorry, Theo…I should’ve realized sooner.” You admit quietly.

“Don’t apologize. I have you now and that is all that matters. However, I know you've been wanting to get Malfoy back and I don’t blame you.” He says, swaying with you to the sensual song.

“No, no, enough of this getting Malfoy back. Malfoy had his chance. Yes, he fucked up…but I can’t keep letting that hold me back. I’ve been sulking over a relationship that didn’t work out for obvious reasons and all along…I should’ve been with the person who was standing right in front of me.” You mumble.

“We’ll get him back together. But, as an official girlfriend and boyfriend duo. Maybe next time he’ll think before breaking a good girl's heart.” He murmurs.

“Nott, I get that you both are confessing your love right now, but please get your hand off my sister's ass.” Mattheo calls.

Theodore chuckles, looking down at you, squeezing your ass once more before moving his hand back to your hip. Your cheeks flush red as you shake your head in amusement.

I wanna get him back

I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

Oh, I wanna get him back

‘Cause then again, I really miss him, and it makes me real sad

Oh, I want sweet revenge

And I want him again

I want to get him back (and then? And then)

I want to get him back, back, back

You were in detention with Theodore, Mattheo, Tom and Draco. Mattheo and Tom got to sit together while you and Theodore got to sit together. Draco was sulking in the front of the room. You and Theodore were cuddled up together, whispering and laughing quietly.

“Okay, I get it. You are all happy, but will tone it the fuck down.” Draco seethes.

“Malfoy, I get it. You are throwing yourself a pity party because you let the best girl in this world slip through your fingers. But, that was your fucking fault. Just because you're pissed doesn’t mean you can take away her happiness. I’ll beat the fuck out of you before letting that happen again.” Theodore warns.

“I’ll help.” Mattheo chirps, grinning at Draco.

“So will I…I’m sure you remember that my methods are a bit more practical…like my fathers.” Tom says, looking at Draco unamused.

“Whatever.” Draco mumbles.

“Let’s get out of here. I have an idea.” You whisper to Theodore.

“Bet.” He murmurs.

You both were quick to leave, laughing quietly as you both snuck back to the Common Room. You grab his hand, dragging him along to the boys dormitories.

“Fiore, where are we going?” Theodore murmurs confused as you both passed his dorm.

“I figured out a way to get Malfoy back. We do it and get back to detention before Snape notices.” You murmur, excitement dancing across your features.

“Take it away, fiore.” He murmurs.

You continue to lead Theodore down the hall until you reach Draco’s dorm. You use a spell, unlocking his door before you both slip in. You see his broom in the corner of the room and grin. You pull the key to your dorm out before you start to completely ruin his broom. Theodore was quietly laughing from where he stood as you continued your handiwork. You stand, the both of you giggling as you both hurry back to detention.

“Where did you lovebirds sneak off to?” Mattheo asks.

“I got hungry.” You say simply.

“And I follow her wherever she goes. I’m simply only allowed a chains length away. She’s got me on a tight leash.” Theodore teases.

“Oh shush, I do not.” You say, your cheeks flushing red.

“Mhm, right.” He teases with his perfect small smile.

I wanna key his car (I want to get him back)

I wanna make him lunch (but then I, I want to get him back)

I wanna break his heart (but then I, I want to get him back)

And be the one to stitch it up (but then I, I want to get him back)

Wanna kiss his face (but then I, I want to get him back)

With an uppercut (but then I, I want to get him back)

I wanna meet his mom (but then I, I want to get him back)

Just to tell her her son sucks (but then I, I want to get him back)

“Who did it?” Draco demands, storming into the Common Room with his destroyed broom.

You look over, fighting the smirk that wanted to appear on your face. Your handiwork looked quite brilliant if you say so for yourself. So, this is what sweet revenge feels like? Theodore continues to rub your legs that were draped across his lap.

“Was it you?” He asks, storming towards you.

Theodore jumps up, standing in front of you as your brothers flank Theodore’s side. You stand up, only for Theodore to push you back on the couch. With one warning look from him, your ass was planted on the couch.

“You don’t get to come in here demanding stuff, Malfoy. Especially from my girl. If you ever come at her like that again, you’ll be in for a rude awakening.” Theodore warns.

“She has literally been striving to ruin my life because she can’t handle a summer fling.” He snaps.

“No, she hasn’t strived to do anything you idiot. You know it wasn’t a summer fling. It was a relationship that you messed up.” Mattheo snaps.

You push past Theodore, ignoring his stern scolding. You look Draco dead in the eye, before taking another step forward.

“If I’ve wanted to ruin your life, trust me, it would be in shambles by now. I’m far more capable and far more cruel than my brothers and father. There is a reason our mother isn’t named and trust me, I’m far too much like her.” You warn.

“Just admit it! This was you! My father will kill me if he finds out my new broom is ruined! You should know better than anyone!” He snaps.

“You're scared of your father? You're scared of what he might do? Well clearly you haven’t met my father.” You laugh coldly, shaking your head.

“Y/n…just admit it. Please.” He pleads.

“Admit to something that I had no hand in? I think you forget that you’ve got far too many enemies on your plate. Keep it up and I will give you something to worry about.” You murmur quietly, so only he could hear you.

He shakes his head, turning and leaving. You turn and look up at Theodore who was looking down at you with a stern look.

“Oh, come on. I handled that very well.” You sigh.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You should’ve stayed behind me and let us handle it. God knows what Malfoy would be willing to do to you.” He says, a frown evident on his face.

“But, I can handle my own problems.” You mumble.

“I know, but I’m here to help you.” He sighs, running a hand over his face.

You plop onto the couch, ignoring him as you felt both guilty and upset. You wanted to let him be happy with helping you, but you also wanted to be able to defend yourself. Theodore sighs, lifting your legs as he sits down next you, putting your legs on his lap.

“I know you can take care of yourself, but I want to be able to protect you. That summer…I could tell how much you loved and cared for Malfoy and he couldn’t even reciprocate that and he strived off hurting you. It hurt me to see you hurting…to see you with him when I wanted to be with you. I wanted to take care of you and to protect you…I wanted to show you what love could really be.” He says.

“I understand that, Theo…I do, but you can’t shield me from the world. There are some battles that are mine to fight. But, I’m not saying I don’t need you there with me. You’re my rock.” You explain.

Oh, I wanna key his car (I want to get him back)

I wanna make him lunch

I wanna break his heart (but then I, I want to get him back)

Stitch it right back up

I wanna kiss his face (I want to get him back)

With an uppercut

I wanna meet his mom (but then I, I want to get him back)

And tell her her son sucks, yeah

“Alright, are we done with this Malfoy revenge thing? Because as far as I know…you’ve made him jealous of you and Theodore…fake dating that led to real dating…ruining his broom…what else?” Mattheo murmurs.

“And there!” You exclaim as his pumpkin juice ends up all over his face and the front of his shirt.

“Is that it?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrug, unsure. You felt like there was one more thing you needed to do to ensure your revenge. You knew it wasn’t the brightest thing to keep doing this to Draco. Some would view that you had done enough. But, you weren’t so sure. Draco hurt you in ways you didn’t think was possible. You always thought of yourself as stronger than that.

“Draco has been talking about you.” Pansy says, taking a seat across from you after pushing Mattheo down the bench.

“Rude.” He grumbles.

“Oh, what has he been saying?” You ask curiously.

“That he misses you…that he feels bad…he might’ve said something about Theo, but I’m not sure if it’s true or not.” She says.

“What did he say about Theo?” You ask.

“That he’s been seeing other girls behind your back.” She mumbles.

“No, no, that’s not true. Theo wouldn’t ever do that.” You say, shaking your head.

“He has a track record.” Pansy mumbles.

You stay quiet, looking down at Draco before grabbing your bag and pulling out a truth potion. You pour it into your cup of pumpkin juice before switching yours and Theodore’s cups.

“Should I be concerned that you just have those on you?” Tom asks.

“It’s for good reason.” You mutter, tucking your bag away as Theodore walks in.

He sits, taking a drink of his pumpkin juice before looking around the table confused as they were all glancing at each other.

“So…my father has asked me to question you…in order for us to protect Y/n/n from getting hurt anymore.” Tom says.

“Ask away.” Theodore says.

“Are you being true to my sister?” He asks.

“Yes.” He murmurs.

“Is Y/n the only girl or do you have other side pieces?” He asks.

“Y/n is the only girl.” He says, his hand grabbing yours under the table.

“Do you love her?” He asks.

“Yes.” He says.

“What are your intentions with her?” He asks.

“To love her…to protect her… to cherish her and give her the world. I want to shield her from anymore hurt. Trust me, I never want to see her hurting again.” He says.

I wanna get him back

I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

Oh, I wanna get him back

‘Cause then again I really miss him, and it makes me real sad

Oh, I want sweet revenege

And I want him again

I want to get him back (and then? And then)

I want to get him back, back, back, back

“My lord, I-I’m sorry.” Draco stutters.

You were being held by Theodore. He had an arm around your waist, keeping you pulled back against him. He had a hand over your mouth so that your father wouldn’t be angry with you for trying to protect Draco. Despite everything Draco did to you, you knew even this was too far.

“You hurt my daughter. Do you know how much she means to me? She means the world to me and no one is allowed to hurt her.” Voldemort snarls.

Except you, you think.

“I’m s-sorry my lord! I’m so sorry! Please, please, I’ll do anything! Just make this stop, my lord! Please!” He pleads.

“You’ll be daunted with extra tasks and knowing that if you don’t finish them, the death of your father and mother before your eyes will be your fault before I kill you myself. Stay away from Y/n or I’ll ruin you myself, Malfoy.” He warns.

He let Draco up who left quickly, not sparing a glance back. Theodore uncovered your mouth before your father could see. He wipes the stray tear off your cheek right before your father turned to you.

“He’ll stay away from you now, princess.” Voldemort murmurs, stepping forward and cupping your cheek.

“T-Thank you father.” You whisper.

“Of course. Now go on.” He murmurs.

I’ll get him, I’ll get him, I’ll get him, I’ll get him back

Get him back, come on, come on

I’m gonna get him so good, he won’t even know what hit him

He’s gonna love me and hate me at the same time

Get him back, girl, you better get him back

I don’t know I got him good, I got him really good

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Wasted Love {Part II}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, High Angst

Words: 6.3k

Summary: Nope.

Note: Posted the first part of this months back and finally getting around to part 2. I hope you like it. Look out for the final part.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous: Wasted Time |

-Lewis-

"For fuck's sake!” He threw the controller across the room.  When it collided with the floor it shattered sending pieces everywhere. "Woah. Woah! What the hell?!” Andrew, Miles, and Daniel all looked at him with varying expressions of confusion, shock, and concern. "Yo, what the fuck is your problem? It’s just an L in MK," Andrew said. He sighed then rubbed his face, pressing a little harder than necessary. "Like we can go again, and I'll let you win if it's that serious," Miles said. He sighed again, his head miles, leaps, and bounds away from the video game, the living room, or his friends. His mind was still in that penthouse suite with you standing in front of him as you argued going back and forth both pushing and neither relenting even a little. His head was still there picking apart every word, every expression, every shuddered breath, every pupil dilation. "Yo, Lewis," Daniel called bringing his attention back to them. "Nah, this can't be about the game. Even you're not that petty," Miles said putting his controller down. "What's up?" He rolled his head around cracking each joint in his neck and shoulders. He hadn't realized until now how wound up he'd been over the last 2 and a half weeks. He also hadn’t realized how steadily his anger and frustrations were climbing too. What was him being in disbelief for the first few days after the confrontation turned into anger then annoyance. Right now he was festering and stewing in all three. He couldn’t believe that after everything you'd been through, everything you'd shared, the lengthy conversations, the trips to and from each of your homes, the late-night phone and video calls that lasted for hours and hours, the dates, the trips, the interactions with his family and him yours, all of it, you were here.

While he had thought you were building and strengthening and growing toward each other despite his insane schedule and lack of free time, that wasn't the case at all. If you had then there was no way you could have said the shit you did or believed he would do some shit like that. "Dude," Andrew began. "It's nothing," he lied. "Bullshit. It's not racing that's been going good, it's not the other hustles either. What, is it Y/N?" His entire body tensed at the mention of your name. That was different. Before, your name brought him peace, a smile and so much more. "Bingo. What is it? Haven't seen her in a few weeks, she too busy for your ass and you salty for it?" He was used to Daniel’s teasing, and usually, he would laugh it up and allow them to bust his chops, but right now Daniel was rubbing on a sensitive topic. Before he realized it he'd kissed his teeth. That action made all three of them perk up. "What's wrong?" "We're done," he blurted out as if the words were acrid acid on his tongue. They were quiet for a few moments, then Miles broke it. "Done? Fuck outta here. You're lying." "I'm for real,” he replied with a touch of exasperation in his voice. "What? What happened?" He sighed again then told them the whole story not leaving out anything. He wanted to hear their thoughts mainly because he felt they would take his side. As he went through the whole thing again he had to admit to himself that there were some things he shouldn't have said, things that he recognized fueled your ruthlessness, things he now regretted. When he'd said his piece he waited for them to tune in, however, a good minute passed before any of them said a word. They just exchanged looks as if speaking nonverbally and trying to come to a consensus. "She fucked up right." Daniel made a face. "IIIIIIII mean," he stretched out in that high-pitched tone that said even more.

"Hold on,” Andrew interrupted, “Has something changed? I thought you were all about her these last months. I thought since she finally gave you the time you were being real.”

“I was—am—was. Shit.”

“You slipped up?”

“No! It was nothing, it was work.”

They all gave him the look as if he was full of shit. Kissing his teeth again he rolled his eyes. “I’m telling the truth. It was work, nothing more. Hell I even told them that when they tried to tag team off each other to spit game. I told them I was seeing someone, and it was getting serious, and I wasn’t bout that life anymore.”

“That’s what I thought,” Miles said.

“I didn’t even know she was there. She showed me some fucked picture and she ran with that shit.”

“What picture?”

He opened his messages, found the picture then showed it to them. You’d sent it to him a few hours after you’d left when he texted you that, “You were fucking things up”, your reply was the picture and a simple reply, “Naw bruh you did that shit all on your own. Own it!” It was the last message you’d sent him. It was now almost 3 weeks later, and you were still radio silent.

“Woah, yeah. That looks bad,” Andrew spat out.

Daniel took his phone and studied the picture closer. “Is she kissing your neck?”

“No.”

Miles now snatched the phone and studied it. “And her hand--.”

“No. Nothing happened. The wild shit is this was a backroom photoshoot for the brand. We were posing for the designer for their social marketing.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t know. I shit you not, she blew in like a hurricane and within 10 minutes she was gone. She didn’t let me explain. Nothing. Someone sent her that picture.”

“Someone wanted to start shit and she took the bait.”

“9 months. 9 fucking months I’ve been bending backward trying to erase my past for her. 9 months I’ve been putting in wild effort to show her, prove to her I’m not the same dude I used to be, 9 months I’ve been going hard trying to show her what she meant to me and that I’m not fucking around when it comes to her, but 10 minutes and it all blew the fuck up. Now I’m angry, what the fuck was I doing this whole time? Why?”

They didn’t bother replying because there was nothing else to say. They knew everything he was saying was true. He’d cut out all the extra shit months ago because he wanted to get closer to you. He’d decided to be the committing type and he was happy to do it, happy to show you he was more than his reputation. He’d turned on plenty of trips, parties, and things of the kind with his boys because it would have backfired. He’d worked hard to earn your trust but in truth, he hadn’t earned anything. You still saw him as he used to be. And that was the hard pill for him to swallow.

~~~~~~~

-1 Week Later-

“Uncle Lewis let’s go in the pool.”

Snapping out of it, he smiled at his niece then nodded. “Of course princess, let’s go.”

He walked to the edge of the pool and stood beside her. As they prepared his nephew approached and began doing the same thing. As they counted down from three he jumped at 2.

“Aw, Uncle Lewis you cheated!”

He shrugged and watched them leap into the water creating massive miniature splashes of the one he’d just created. When they emerged they came after him trying to attack him like little baby sharks. Each of their attempts was blocked and turned around on them. When one failed he grabbed the other and tossed them across the pool then did the same for the other. Soon there was almost just as much water outside the pool as there was inside.

By the time he got out of the pool the sun was setting and he was exhausted. Dropping himself into one of the lounge chairs, he sighed and allowed himself to relax. However, relaxation wasn’t in the cards for him. Though the activity from before worked to distract him from his heavy thoughts, now with the absence of said activity it all came flooding back. With an exasperated grunt, he grabbed his phone off of the side table and then went to his socials.

As he aimlessly scrolled through the posts he liked a few and kept swiping. Some of the posts he registered others he didn’t. Within a few short minutes, he somehow found himself on yours. He didn’t even notice until he was staring at one of your recent posts, a picture of yourself staring deeply into the camera. It looked like something shot for a brand or a photoshoot rather than a natural selfie.

For several moments all he thought of was how fucking gorgeous you were. The saying ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’ rang true for you because every time he gazed into them he was always pulled into their depths to drown in their beauty. Fuck, he missed you he thought to himself. On the 4th post he’d landed on he sighed seeing you laughing uncontrollably with your best friend. You looked like you hadn’t a care in the world; like you were blissfully happy. The thought hit him then that you looked like you didn’t miss him one bit.

Acknowledging that made his heart thud painfully then his annoyance was back. It was just like you to leave him to fall apart while you escaped with carefreeness. He’d always suspected that he felt more for you than you felt for him. He guessed that this was his proof. He tapped the tag in the photo of your best friend and found even more videos and pictures of you. The backdrop said you were either on an island or some European seaside town and you were enjoying yourself. He pressed his finger to the screen, freezing the video on your smiling face. Drinking wasn’t really his thing, but fuck did he want a drink or three right now.

“You’re messing yourself up.”

Snapping his head up, he found his mother sitting beside him.

“Mum.”

“Not only are you messing yourself up with everything you’re keeping in but you’re trying to use everything you possibly can as an escape, case in point this last-minute trip,” she finished.

“Mum, it’s not like--.”

“And according to Miles and Daniel, you’re spiraling inside, and it’s not a little.”

“I’m fine, mum, I promise,” he half lied placing his phone on the side table face up.

“You’re not. How could you be fine? The first woman you’ve allowed yourself to fall in love with in years has done a flip and turn because of your actions.”

His brow rose, “What?”

“Acceptance of one’s actions is important, Lewis. I have always taught you that.”

“Naw. Nope, I didn’t do this. I didn’t make this happen. She is a distrustful person.” He sat up straighter then, “I worked my butt off to show her she could trust me, to show her that I wanted her and only her.”

His mother shook her head about that. “If you’re still doing the things you know are triggers for her, how are you proving anything?”

He looked at her incredulously. He knew she liked you a lot and had grown closer to you over the past months, but he didn’t know when she’d completely jumped on your ship while abandoning his.

“Mum, I can’t control half the things she thinks,” he pleaded.

“The pictures Lewis. The pictures and your choice of words.”

He sighed then because he knew that she’d talked to you already. He was tempted to ask his mother for the play-by-play, but he decided against it knowing she probably wouldn’t go for it.

“It was innocent. It was work.”

“Did you tell her that? You know someone sent her those pictures? Someone wanted to start problems and it was too easy because you helped them along.”

“I tried to tell her, but she basically called me a liar. She looked me in my eyes and decided not to believe me. Plus it’s a lot more than she ever afforded me. She’s photographed with a lot of guys all the time; some work, some not, she doesn’t explain any of it to me, yet I trust her enough to believe it’s not something wild or disrespectful. Yet when it comes to me, I’m automatically the knob.”

“Lewis,” she warned.

He raised his hand, sighed out then leaned back in the chair.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before he continued. “She treats me like an option mum--a bloody option. This whole year, the 9 we’ve been together and the 3 it took to claim her, I’ve treated her like my only choice.”

The truth to those words was a truth he’d buried deep. His mother reached over and took his hand.

“Sweetie,” she began.

He knew what was coming, knew she was either going to defend you or try to soothe the pain he felt. He didn’t want either.

“She acts like I never said the words.”

Another truth he’d buried. “I said them, I meant them and she--she never said them back, never even acknowledged them.”

That night was still fresh in his mind. The night when his body and heart felt matched perfectly, it was the night he’d said the words he’d felt for weeks and weeks before. He’d stared deeply into your eyes and said them. ‘I love you.’ He’d meant them. He didn’t know he could still truly feel that way about anyone or feel enough to say the words. You’d proven him wrong, and he was cut up because of it.

 “Lewis, I’m thrilled that you’ve finally found someone that you want in your life for more than a few months. It makes me so happy that you have found someone to love. She is a wonderful woman, but, who cares what she does? If this is how you feel how you truly feel, if she is who you choose and wholeheartedly want beside you then you are supposed to be with it be about her no matter what.”

“Seriously!? No.”

“That my love, is the difference between a boy and a grown man. A grown man is one hundred percent true to what’s in here,” she reached over then pat his chest just over his heart. “He is about it, and nothing changes it because it does not matter.”

“How—H--how do I do that? How in the world do I put myself out there--,” he voiced before she cut him off.

“--And invite her to break your heart? Is she worth the risk?”

He didn’t want to open his mouth to even answer this. If you weren’t worth it, he wouldn’t have spent so much time perusing you. He never would have made so much of an effort to include you in his world and life, he wouldn’t have waited 6 fucking months to sleep with you so both of you were sure where your hearts were, he wouldn’t have ever told you he loved you. Of course, you were worth it but the memory of the look in your eyes as you spoke to him, the last thing you’d said to him held part of him back.

“I have always been and will always be that bitch with or without you.”

That coupled with the way you looked at him just before the elevator doors closed held him back.

“Lewis!”

“I—I don’t—I don’t know anymore.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I thought I knew, thought I was so sure, I was sure, but--I don’t.”

This was fucked, he thought as he felt his mother’s eyes boring into him. When she stood she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as she did when he was a child after a spill. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out while he relished this comforting embrace.  It was in his mother’s loving and judgment-free arms he finally broke letting it all go.

Hours seemed to pass this way, or perhaps it had been just mere minutes. When his sister approached he felt heaps better but his heart was still heavy. A notification from his phone drew his attention as his sister sat on the floor before him. As he checked it, his sister gave her best attempt at a pep talk. Some words he caught others he missed but the sentiment was sometimes time helped people see the error of their ways and come up with ways to fix the errors. He didn’t know if she meant his errors or yours.

He went into his socials DMs and found a message from your best friend. After hesitating for a few moments he tapped into it and found a video. It took him to a recent video that was only available to her close friends. Your face came into view, and he instantly noticed the tears on your cheeks. You held your hand up to block the camera view, but the angle only changed.

“When bestie is tired of frontin' for the gram with the having the time of my life posts and allows herself to be sad and you gotta cheer her up,” your best friend said.

“Stop. You can’t record me like this. I’m not sad,” you protested.

“No?”

You were quiet for a few seconds. “No.”

Your voice was clouded as if your throat was tight words struggled to make it through. “Not sad—really, really sad,” you said voice a sobbing whine.

Fuck, he thought. He hated seeing you cry.

“What—what do I—do I do now?”

“Allow yourself to feel it,” your friend suggested.

You sobbed some more, and he watched your friend hug you before the video ended. So many things flew through his mind but the two things that kept coming around. The first was how much he missed you.

The second, you were worth it.

~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Everyone said that the first month of a breakup was always the hardest and those words were proving true. Since those elevator doors had closed you’d done everything to keep yourself moving. You piled on work to make sure you had no free time to sit and think. However, that didn’t quite work because wherever you went, something reminded you of him. Either it was a café or a location you went to for a shoot, or even something you ate. You nearly threw yourself into the ocean when one of the set interns brought you a glass of Almave.

When work didn’t prove successful, you picked yourself and your friends up for a girls’ trip to a faraway island. You drank, partied, and posted it all on your socials hoping you could fake it till you made it, but the faking became too much. By nightfall every night, you wallowed with a bottle or two of wine.

While you were beyond pissed at Lewis you also knew that picture was sent to you on purpose. You weren’t an idiot and had dealt with plenty of conniving, duplicitous bitches in your days. You knew someone was trying to fuck with you and start shit and you were giving them what they wanted. That didn’t matter because none of that changed the content of the photo.

Every time you came back to that no matter how much of your anger had dissipated, it all came back with that one nugget of fact. It was straight-up disrespect. If the tables had been turned and it was you, Lewis would have made a huge fuss over it by being extra petty. You refused to believe you were in the wrong, but several bits of your interaction tried to come through to show you had been in the wrong for a few things.

You were a passionate person and usually when arguing that passion shines through and oftentimes you get reckless at the mouth not caring how your words are thrown together or the force of those words. You knew you fought dirty; it was the only way you knew how. You blamed it on the years of living a single and independent life after one of the worst breakups of your life. It had caused more damage than good. You’d had no one to answer to, no one to consider or consult and you oftentimes still lived there in your head. It was a major switch to flip and a switch you failed, more times than you liked to admit, to flip.

You knew that night you’d said whatever came to mind and didn’t care if the words hurt. In fact, you said some things to cause pain and that was the source of your regret. Lewis had often told you throughout your 9-month relationship that your mouth would get you in trouble in more ways than one. He’d warned you about your recklessness and told you he wouldn’t stand for it because if he really wanted he could get just as reckless as you.

That was one of the things you loved about him. He wasn’t afraid to call you out on your bullshit and put you in your place when you got into your bad girlfriend mode.

Sighing, you raised the glass of wine to your lips and guzzled until it was empty. Your eyes fell to the now empty wine bottle, and you debated with yourself over getting another. It was the 2nd bottle of the night, and you knew if you got a 3rd you’d have entered lush territory, but you didn’t care enough to resist. So you slinked across the kitchen to the wine fridge and grabbed another bottle of wine, but before you closed it you grabbed one more just in case.

After you’d popped the cork and filled your glass to the brim your phone went off with a security notification. Checking the application, you reviewed the notice of someone entering your code into your security gate.

“What the hell?”

Another notification came in informing you a car was pulling up the drive. You went over the registered movements watching the videos to figure out if you had a security breach or if someone was just showing up unannounced. On the 3rd video, you realized who it was.

“No fucking way.”

You walked out of the kitchen, through your home, and to your front door. Before you got there, the bell rang. Once you turned the corner you saw who it was through the intricately decorated glass doors. Lewis Hamilton. Neither of you moved. You stood there staring at each other. You couldn’t read the expression in his brown eyes, but you could read the dark circles underneath them and his lackluster complexion. He looked slightly sick but also indifferent. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was having as hard a time as you were. You’d purposely stayed off his and his friends' accounts to avoid any excessive thoughts of him.

Lewis didn’t move a muscle, he patiently waited for you to make your move. It was a move you didn’t know how to make. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t wanted him to run after you and fight some more, but you also didn’t want to see him again. So one hand itched to grab the knob and open the door for him but the other hand wanted to override the security system and shutter down your house.

You closed your eyes and took several deep breaths giving your body control to see which side won. When your hand wrapped around the knob you wanted to break it. Once you opened the door, you snapped your eyes open.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you get past my gate?”

Lewis scoffed and slightly shook his head before speaking, “Let me in, Y/N.”

You scrunched your face and doubled down on your annoyance. “What? Not a chance in hell. Answer me. How?”

When your best friend's name came out of his mouth your eyes bugged. There was no way.

“Bullshit! There is no way my best friend would give you my security code for my gate without letting me know. There is no way!”

He looked unamused now.

“Yet she did.”

You studied him still shocked.

“Let me in.”

“No. Why would I do that? We have nothing to talk about.”

“I think we have a lot to talk about.”

You scoffed. “Five weeks too late. Anything I had to say was said already. We’ve both said enough. You should go 44.”

Lewis took a sharp breath in and released it. As it came out it sounded like a hiss. “Oh boy. Y/N, stop talking! For real just stop—fucking talking and let me in!”

“What the fuck?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Do I fucking look like one of your side bitches, or your groupies?!”

From the heat rushing through you, you could tell that your anger was beginning to really boil now. With quick moves, Lewis moved from his side of the door to close the space between you. Before you knew it, he had one of his hands cupping your skull and his lips pressed to yours. Like magic as if on command you stopped moving and any thought of protest faded, hell any thought at all faded.

Lewis’ lips moved against yours in a way you’d found yourself missing the last five weeks. He kissed you like a starved man, like a man who’d come back to claim what was his and your body reacted in the only way it had ever reacted—eager acceptance.

A small whimper escaped you and that was when Lewis backed off. You kept your eyes closed relishing the feelings that had now bubbled up within you, feelings you’d been working overtime to suppress and ignore. One kiss was all it took for the geyser to erupt.

“You talk to fucking much for your own good,” Lewis whispered.

You could feel the whisps of his breath against your face and picked up the scent of mint, and some form of berry. You tried to control your breathing so he wouldn’t see how much he still affected you. Opening your eyes, you peered into his glossy doe ones.

“You’ve said more than enough. I still have shit to say. So listen.”

Lewis then squeezed your hip bringing you back to the present. It was then you realized your body was pressed to his and his hand was gripping you holding you against him controlling your body like he always did. Shit, you thought. You loved when he took control, loved how he always knew how to shut you up when you got into one of your what he would call Y/N fits. Lewis squeezed your hip once more while biting his bottom lip and you wanted to knee him in the balls because of how easy it still was for him to turn you on.

As if he knew it too, Lewis released you as quickly as he’d grabbed you and walked into your house. A shiver rushed through you making you shudder. Asshole, you thought while you closed and locked your door. When turned around he was standing there waiting for you. Rolling your eyes, you led the way back to the kitchen. Once there you grabbed your glass and finished it.

“Speak.”

Lewis scoffed. “Don’t test me, Y/N.”

Clenching your jaw you refilled your glass then watched him with slightly narrowed eyes. You were not going to make any of this easy for him.

“I’m tired of these subs you keep throwing my way. So fucking tired of it. It’s like you enjoy being cold and evil to me and that’s not even cool. I’ve never taken joy in being cold to you.”

Shaking your head you took another sip from your glass.

“I’ve known you for years. Yeah, it wasn’t like we were in the same friend group, but we were cordial. I’ve wanted you the entire time I’ve known you. Yeah, yeah, I was messing with other women throughout that time.”

“Messing? Just say fucking. Call a spade a spade and move the fuck on,” you blurted out.

“Again, stop talking!”

His voice bounced around the kitchen, but you didn’t feel fear. You’d never feared him. You knew he wasn’t one of those men who hit women. That had never and would never be him. Narrowing your eyes, you took a large gulp of your wine, your conflicting feelings wreaking havoc on you.

“You act like you don’t have a past or even things from your past you’re ashamed of. Shit Y/N! I’ve told you I am not that man anymore, I’ve changed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The silence stretched and you kept your eyes on him. He looked hurt but also frustrated. “I get that, and I’ve been killing myself by doing what I can to prove it to you, to show you I deserve your time.”

Shaking your head you scoffed. “You don’t have to prove shit else, Lewis. I have all the proof I need; I saw it all in that picture!”

“The picture was bullshit. Tell me you don’t get someone is fucking with you.”

“Again why do they want to do that Lewis? Huh! Is it because of your thot ass!”

“Oh my god, here we go again! Stop throwing my past in my face. I’ve owned it and have walked away from it. That picture was bullshit. I was working. What that picture doesn’t show--.”

You grabbed the wine bottle and began walking away. “I don’t give a shit anymore!”

Lewis’ hand wrapped around your wrist stopping your movement. “It was a photoshoot, Y/N. Someone took a picture of an impromptu photoshoot and sent it to you out of context.”

You scanned his eyes for any sign of a lie.

“You’re lying.”

“I have never lied to you. I swear it. You can even go to the brand owner and find out, it’s easy to do.”

You couldn’t believe that. “You’re lying Lewis.”

“I’m not. I told you I would never do some shit like that to you.”

You kept scanning his eyes unable to wrap your head around what he was saying. He had to be lying. Right?

“Look--,” he began dropping his hand and releasing you. With a sigh, he continued, “I came here to give you this.”

He then pulled something from his back pocket and held it out to you. The large brown envelope in his hand looked like doom in the form of an office supply.

“This is the last goddamn time I’m going to have you throw my past in my face. The last fucking time, Y/N. It’s not fair and I shouldn’t have to explain shit to you because this was before you and has nothing to do with us, here or now, but for some fucking reason I feel like I have to, and it irks the shit out of me especially since you don’t give me the same courtesy.”

His words felt like dull blades whipping against your skin. That flared your anger.

“You don’t have to explain shit to me.”

“Shut up!”

That was it. Though you liked it when he stood up to you, you hated feeling this backed into a corner, especially with the truths he’d just dropped.

“Listen, you’re not gonna be--.”

That was all you got out before Lewis’ lips were pressed to yours once again and again everything stopped. His lips manipulated you making you slump back against the wall you hadn’t realized you were pressed to. Lewis’ large hand squeezed your hip once again and you’d never wanted to strip someone more than him right now. When he pulled his lips from yours he kept his forehead to yours.

“You’ve never fucked with a guy like me. I told you that 9 months ago and it’s still true. I’m not going to just let you talk to me any old way. Those other fools were weak as fuck. I’m not weak. I can handle your ass,” Lewis said.

He didn’t need to say shit else because you were now turned the fuck on. Your eyes locked and it took everything in you to remain composed though his lips looked more and more tempting with each passing second.

“Are you listening now?”

You had no words.

“I’m done with that life. It’s boring, it’s old and to be honest it weighs me the fuck down. I want you and it goes past sex, it goes past claiming you or getting a notch, or even letting the world know I got you. None of that matters to me, it never has. I want you. I want Y/N. I’ve been real this entire time.”

Again he pushed out the envelope to you.

“After I give you this it’s all in your hands, your court, your decision. I’ll chase you but I’ll only chase you so far. This is how far.”

Your eyes dropped to the envelope between your bodies, but you didn’t reach for it. You couldn’t. You were actually scared of it and what it may hold. Glancing back at him, you studied his face.

“Your decision, make it. If it’s not me then cool. No hard feelings, we’re still friends and I’ll wish you nothing but the best but,” Lewis paused then cupped your chin as he pressed himself against you more. With his face mere centimeters from yours, he finished, “My lips will not touch yours until you come to me for it.”

Holy shit, you thought to yourself.

“Our next kiss if it’s in the cards will be done by you, not me.”

From the look in his eyes, you could tell he was serious. You could tell he meant this with everything. He was done chasing you, done giving and giving only to have you keep him at a distance. Fuckity, fuck, you thought.

“Are you gonna take it?”

You wanted to shake your head, but you couldn’t move. It was like he was the headlights, and you were the deer. You recognized the fear you felt. You knew it was do or die and you knew this was the moment of truth for your relationship. With what he’d told you about the picture being a set up you were more confused than ever. Rightfully, he shouldn’t even be here right now, not after your conversation before and how it all went down. He was still here trying to get you back.

You slowly took the envelope with a shaky hand, the only tell of your fear. Lewis slowly backed away from you while keeping his eyes on yours. When he was a few feet away he turned and began walking out of the kitchen.

“So that’s it?”

Lewis stopped then looked back at you. His expression was different now. You could tell how hurt he was now, how much you’d hurt him.

“You tell me, Y/N.”

You didn’t know what to tell him, so you didn’t say anything. Lewis nodded, the disappointment filling his eyes before he turned from you and walked away. You stood there listening to him walk through your house, his footsteps getting further and further away. When you heard the door close you released breath you didn’t know you were holding. The notification sounds from your phone told you that he’d driven down the drive and left the property.

It was then you put the envelope on the kitchen counter and took several deep breaths trying to calm yourself. No matter how many breathing exercises you did you still couldn’t calm down. Your mind raced replaying the conversation, dissecting every move, word, and glance, and analyzing it against every other conversation over the last 9 months. When your legs gave way from the weight of it all, you dropped to the floor. One question kept screaming in your head.

Had it all truly been wasted love or was there still hope?

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[dreamyvill]

Heart stopper

Angst no comfort

Not proof read

Everything went wrong so horrifically wrong, everything else horribly wrong, felt wrong the air that had been pushed into your lungs replacing the air that had been knocked out of you when you realized you’d been ambushed and the comms had been intercepted and he couldn’t hear you. How you heart was so erratic you’d bet it had to rock it’s self and count to ten to calm down after everything had settled. All the air that passed thought shallowly after you’d made your choice. Bold

Now here you were aching and screaming at the top of your lungs at the man you’d die for at any minute it didn’t matter. “fucking answer me” you said calmly trying to soothe your aching arm and heart. This felt like when you had did somthing bad and you thought someone knew and you were just waiting for the shoe to drop the anxiety you felt at the bottom of your heart and to the tops of your soul and being in every form it could possibly take.

Silence. It was infuriating “fucking answer me now” you screamed your sweet voice now high pitched and bare utterly agnostic on the eyes of everyone. Good you wanted him to suffer as you heart is…

“Luv’ m’trying to help” Simon bowed his head scared not from a physical threat or anything like that, scared of your tone you’d never spoken to anyone like that before not when you were barking orders at subordinates and not when interacting with the enemy for information. He’d much rather those voices than this. “Then fucking answer me then! Are you in love with Her”.

Bitter

“Love m’sorry” he tried to plead with you it felt like a firefighter trying to talk someone down from a cliff after the ink dried on all there notes stamped and in route. “Yes or no” you sour voice asked eyes narrowed and soppy. Hoping a quick nod would free him a swift yes of the head stepping forward trying to touch you. Bluntly stepping back chest rising and falling hard.

“Why? And don’t give me no bullshit about how you can’t help who you fall in love with that’s bullshit!” How could he love her she’d done nothing toe arm his love she wasn’t there for him how you were.

“She- she what huh what the hell did she do to deserve that?” You interrupted her was taking too long and it was pissing you off like he had a long list of reasons he was considering. “Please I don’t want to hurt you” he pleaded he never begged like this. “Mission failed bitch what is it huh” you needed a reason and he was stuck.

“She wasn’t there for you, she wasn’t the one who stood by you through the last ten months, the night terrors the ptsd. You didn’t fuck and make love to her for seven months straight sleeping next to her, waking up with her breakfast all that shit.” Did you mean nothing to him did all of that mean nothing.

“I would die for you I just took a fucking bullet for you, not because I had to but because I love you that’s not nothing there aren’t many people who would do that for love.” You had just jumped in front of a bullet to save him to make sure he didn’t die in the face of the enemy.

The coms had been jammed and there were more and more people approaching him, in a stupid act of love you raced over to his aid to see him down but fighting as well as fading into death. Fighting for him, beside him ready to give your life to save or die with him once the gun smoke cleared and you drug his limp body on one good leg and shoulder to the evac site shedding tear after tear for him praying to a god you were sure had domed you years ago. Pleading with him not to fade away in your arms an “I love you” on the top of your tongue when he asks for her.

“it’s everything” he whispered hearing how your heart broke right in front of him love gone like he had almost been.

“I hate you Simon”

[tinydeskwriter]

Hi! Can you write something with Carlos? After yesterday's events... I need to read something to cope, idk☹️☹️

You're Carlos Fucking Sainz

A/n: this is just a little something, a domestic moment after the bombastic news, Y/n trying to be there for her man. I was so sad for Carlos, I think this is the cuntiest Ferrari move ever, it's sure to make things unconfortable this season. It's not something particulartly big or elaborate, because I wasn't sure what you wanted, but I hope you like.

“Amore,” the Spaniard is surprised to hear the soft voice calling him, blocking his cell phone screen and placing it on the coffee table, turning to his girlfriend standing in the doorway.

Y/n arrived in Madrid three hours after the news was posted and a fifteen-minute call with her boyfriend left her heartbroken. She was lucky to have an extensive network and such a competent PA who managed to get her on a flight back home in record time—even if that meant she had to travel coach from Milan.

“Carinõ, what are you doing here?" The man got up and approached his girlfriend, kissing her lightly before pulling away to look at her, “I thought you weren't coming back from Milan until tomorrow."

“Aren't you happy to see me?" She tilts her head slightly and wrinkles her nose in the way she knows Carlos finds her irresistibly adorable.

“I'm always happy to see you." The words are genuine, but the smile is forced.

“I told the girls that my extremely hot and talented boyfriend needed me more than they did." Y/n wraps her arms around the older man's muscular neck.

“Not so talented apparently…” The woman's smile disappears when she sees his crestfallen expression and deprecatory tone when talking about himself. “They warned me ten minutes before the announcement went up.”

Y/n took her boyfriend's face in her hand, forcing him to look at her. Determination evident in her eyes.

“Carlos, bebé, you are amazing, never think otherwise, you are no less than Charles," she says seriously, “it's their loss, go after what you want my love, any team would be lucky to have you, Ferrari you've only been building tractors for years, you did your best, Hamilton will have the most disappointing end to his career there, and half the experts doubt that Charles will win the title racing for Ferrari."

“I'm going to be without a team in 2025..." the Spaniard says, moving away from his girlfriend, towards the large couch they choose together months before—his house was a true bachelor pad before she moved in, and it took some effort and gentle persuasion for her to convince her very headstrong man to allow her to change around.

Sitting on the huge, velvety blue sofa, with his arms crossed and beaked, his head thrown on the back and his eyes closed, he would look downright pathetic if he weren't so handsome—and if she didn’t love him so much.

At least for today, she wants to make him feel better, tomorrow and beyond, they take it one day at a time. Y/n sighs. She hates when Carlos is hard on himself, especially over a situation he has little to no control.

She takes off her own dress, leaving it pooling down the living room floor, in only a white lace G-string she sits on the man's lap, uncrossing his arms and placing his big hands on her ass. She laughs when Carlos immediately opens his eyes, staring at the pair of breasts in front of him with desire—she knows it's a low blow, but she just wants to see him a little more himself, sex won’t solve anything, but it will definitely take him out of his shell.

“Bebé, you are Carlos fucking Sainz,” she tangles her fingers through his dark strands, “fuck Ferrari, fuck Fred, fuck Charles and fuck Hamilton, show them all who you are, be your cuntiest self, ignore their bullshit strategy and their fucking favouritism, race for you, follow your instincts and get out of that tractor factory with a bang.” She kisses him deeply, biting his lips.