#after everything that happened to her the last two volumes

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 8: The Lie of Quiet

A/N: I'm still sleep deprived. I hope you guys love it! xx Elle

Warnings: Panic attack, mentions of past abuse, slight homophobia

Word Count: 4.1k

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Azzi woke up slowly, just like she had been doing the past few days. It was nice to not have to be up before the Sun every day. She smiled to herself realizing she didn’t really have any plans today. Granted, she needed to figure out what she was going to do next, but according to Paige, she had no reason to rush.

Her phone vibrated on her nightstand. Brow furrowed; she turned it over.

Paige Bueckers.

Why the hell was Paige calling her at 6:30 in the morning?

“Hello?” She spoke softly.

“Good morning, Azzi. Sorry to call so early, but I have a meeting at 7:30, so I won’t be able to take Soleil on her school tour. I know it’s last minute, but can you get her ready and take her?”

Azzi didn’t think Paige took a breath. “Let’s calm down. I’ll come up now.”

She pulled an oversized hoodie over her pajamas, slid into her slippers, and headed up to the penthouse.

She was in another suit. God. Azzi needed her to stop wearing those. They made her brain and her face overheat. She was so freaking hot, and Azzi couldn’t have her.

“Hey, Az.” That nickname. Again! Blue eyes trailed from her fuzzy slides, up to her bare legs, the tiny strip of her pink pajama shorts, to the big gray sweatshirt, finally landing on her face and messy bun. “You’re making it hard to want to leave for work.”

Azzi’s face was burning up. “Oh! Th-thanks.”

The smirk on Paige’s face turned into a genuine smile, small, but there. “Thank you for covering on such short notice. It’s just a new client, and they’re going to bring in millions if it goes well.”

Azzi exhaled, walking to the couch. “No problem! What all do you need me to do with Soleil today?”

“It was supposed to be a chill morning for us. We were gonna go out for breakfast, go to Four Oaks Christian to see if it would be a better fit, have lunch, maybe watch a movie. I hate missing time with her for fucking meetings.” She sighed.

Azzi’s eyes widened. “You want me to tour another Christian school after everything that happened yesterday?”

Paige’s blue eyes locked onto the doe-eyed ones. “I made sure they knew she had a gay mom. Said it’s fine and they respect all kinds of families.” She shrugged. “It’s just a tour. You know what a school needs, and I trust you. You’ll know if that place is good enough for Lei or not.”

Eyes wide, Azzi choked out, “You’d trust me with a choice that big?”

“Azzi, I told you. You’re family now. That means I trust you. Means we all trust you.”

Warmth blossomed in Azzi’s chest. She had forgotten what it felt like to be trusted, needed, accepted. “O-okay. I’ll make sure to take notes for you.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I promise I trust your judgement.” She smiled.

Azzi’s ears rang. Paige smiled. At her this time. The first smile she’d seen that wasn’t directed to one of her sisters or Soleil. It was a smile for Azzi.

God, she had to get a handle on this stupid crush.

She was snapped out of her trance by the press of cold metal on her hand. She felt a slight spark when Paige’s fingers brushed over hers. “Here’s my card. Whatever you need goes on here.” She paused, smirking. “Actually, I’m gonna check and make sure you spent enough for breakfast and lunch for two people. If it’s not up to my standards, you’ll be receiving a nice gift from me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes.

She’s so dramatic. She thinks. But she likes to take care of you. The other side of her brain helpfully provides. Yeah, because you’re like a sister to her. She literally just told you that you’re family now.

“I’m gonna tell Soleil bye, then I’ll be out of your hair. She’ll wake up and come out when she’s ready. Please just make sure you’re at the school by 11.”

And Azzi was left alone. She plopped down on the sofa, turning on Zootopia. She scrolled on TikTok, volume down so she could hear Soleil when she wakes up.

After a while, she heard light footsteps. A lump of fuzz crawled onto the couch, burrowing into Azzi’s side.

“Good morning, Soleil.” Azzi whispered.

She got a grunt in return and let out a light giggle at the lack of energy. She had no idea Soleil could be this still.

The two stayed cuddled on the couch until the movie ended. “Okay, Pretty Face. We gotta get ready. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

A mumbled “Kay,” and two outstretched arms was all Azzi got in response.

She helped the girl brush her teeth and wash her face. She sat cross-legged on the floor while she waited for Soleil to pick an outfit.

After she’s dressed in a yellow gingham romper, Soleil approached Azzi shyly.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Azzi brushed the girl’s hair from her face.

“Wan you to do my haiw.” She mumbled. “Please?”

Azzi smiled. “Of course I’ll do your hair! I thought you’d never ask!”

Soleil giggled. The first sign of normalcy from the girl.

“Let’s get your shoes on, and we can do your hair downstairs at my house.”

Two bubble braids and a pair of stark white Converse later, Soleil was ready. Azzi was very much not.

She was slicking her damp hair into a ponytail, going through different outfit options in her head. She should probably look the part. She should look like she could afford a thirty-thousand-dollar tuition. She should look like one of those moms who had it all together — the kind who dropped their kids off at school, hit Pilates, cleaned the house, baked dessert, and finished laundry before pickup. Even though she didn’t belong, she needed to look like she did, for Soleil and Paige’s sake.

Before her mind could spiral, Soleil’s voice called out from her closet. “We match?”

Azzi was secretly grateful that the girl had helped her eliminate some choices on what to wear. “Of course, sweetie!”

She met the girl who was holding on to one of the yellow dresses, much too short to pull it off the hanger. The dress was perfect. It would hit the middle of her calf, and it had thick straps with a neckline that covered most of her cleavage. She decided to pair it with woven wedges, a matching purse, and a pair of sunglasses.

Soleil came up to hold her hand while she looked in the mirror. They made a cute pair.

Azzi made sure to grab Paige’s black card off the table before meeting Morgan downstairs.

Today, Morgan was driving Paige’s everyday car instead of the Escalade. “Hi Mo!” Soleil greeted cheerfully.

Morgan replied back just as happily, and the two launched into a conversation as Azzi buckled the girl in.

“Good morning, Morgan. We’re headed to Wheat’s End Café.”

The ride to the café was short but filled with lighthearted comments from Soleil about being happy to stay home from school today.

The two of them walked into the café, hands tight in each other’s grasp. Azzi saw that shyness peeking out of Soleil again, almost shocked at how quickly she hid into herself. She took a picture of the menu and pulled the girl to the side, so they could talk about what they wanted in private.

“So, do you want something sweet or something meaty?” Soleil pointed to a picture of a cinnamon roll and a chocolate chip waffle. “How about we get one of each and share?”  Soleil nodded, burrowing her face in Azzi’s neck. “We can get some fruit and some bacon too, and maybe a bagel and lox for Morgan.”

Azzi hoisted her up and held her quietly until they got to the front of the line. “Do you want to tell the barista what you want, Lei?” She burrowed her hair into Azzi’s neck, even more than before.

“My daughter is shy like that too. What would you to like to get?” The barista smiled gently.

Azzi’s smile faltered a bit at the woman’s assumption. She couldn’t have known any better, the matching dresses and closeness definitely made them look like a mother-daughter duo. She put in her order quickly, adding two hot chocolates, getting the order just as quickly.

Morgan drove them to Lakeshore East Park and started on her bagel while Soleil and Azzi found a table in the shade. Soleil sits quietly while Azzi sets out the fruit, bacon, part of the muffin and waffle. When Azzi blows on her hot chocolate before giving it to the little one, who smiles. “Mommy does that too.”

“There she is,” Azzi grins. “I didn’t think you were ever gonna talk to me again!”

Soleil giggles, “I don’t like new people. Mommy telled me stwangews not safe.”

“Your mommy is right, like always. But you don’t have to worry when you’re with me. I got you Lei Lei.”

She nodded, looking at her food. “Awe these gluten fwee? I don’t wanna get sick.” Soleil asked, face falling slightly.

Azzi gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “Of course they are gluten free! I’m allergic too.”

The smile that stretched across Soleil’s face was worth all the gluten-filled foods Azzi would miss out on. “Nobody else was gluten fwee. Now we can be best fwiends!”

She crawled into Azzi’s lap, content to eat her breakfast in her lap. Their informal breakfast date was filled with giggles and jokes about any and everything.

They ended breakfast full and happy. Azzi snapped a selfie with her and Soleil’s syrup and icing covered face and sent it to Paige.

Azzi: Soleil is a MENACE. a perfect, cute, sugar-coated menace 😍 10/10 would recommend.

She’s just finished wiping her face when she gets a reply.

Paige Bueckers: She gets it from me. You can do this every day if you want. We’d love it

A little shocked and flushed, Azzi hearts the message, while she and Soleil walk back to the car.

Azzi: heading to four oaks christian now. will lyk how it goes

“Okie dokes Soleil. We’re going to see a new school. I know you get a little nervous when you go somewhere new, but that’s okay. I’ll be right there with you, and if you don’t like it, we don’t have to stay! I just want you to try, and then we’re going to pick up lunch and go home. And we can eat and watch a movie if you want?”

Soleil’s brows furrowed with determination. “I twy my best.” She paused. “And I want Fwozen.”

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Four Oaks Christian School was a nice school. It would take about an hour to get there in the mornings, but the view of Lake Michigan made it worth it. The campus didn’t even look like you were still in Cook County; full frees lined the road. It was quiet out here, and Azzi felt the stillness may work well for Soleil.

Soleil reached for Azzi’s hand, grip firm as they walked to the office. Her romper looked bright against the landscape; sunshine personified. Seeing a few parents getting in and out of cars, Azzi smiled knowing her dress made her look like she belonged in the PTA meetings and lunch bunch clubs.

When a smidge of doubt started to peak in, Azzi felt Soleil grip her hand a little tighter, looking up with a nervous face. She didn’t have time to be insecure; Soleil needed her to be steady.

Soleil’s grip tightened the closer the got to the front desk, but after Azzi checked them in, the girl stood next to her, instead of hiding behind her legs. Small victory.

A bubbly redhead came up to them. “Good morning. My name is Ms. Clarkson We are here for a school tour for Little Miss Soleil Bueckers, right?” She knelt, much like Azzi did the first time she met the girl. “Hello Soleil. I like how you’re matching with your mommy!” She smiled. “I have shoes just like yours too!”

Before Azzi could correct the woman, Soleil had muttered a quiet, “Thank you.” She’d pushed herself closer to Azzi, but she was proud of the girl for trying so hard.

Azzi felt her shoulders drop a little when the woman turns away from them to lead them deeper into the school.

The three of them walked to all areas Soleil would see during the school year. The cafeteria had fresh fruits and vegetables and a separate prep area for children with allergies. She would go to art and music classes twice a week, but she had PE every day. Science classes occurred on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while she would have Spanish on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

They had chapel the first thing every morning. “As we are a Christian school, we provide instruction about the attributes of God and character of Christ. Every week, the children learn about a new virtue, and they talk about it every morning in chapel. They will have many opportunities to work on these virtues throughout the week, and the child with the most positive points in each class will be recognized at Friday chapel.”

Ms. Clarkson continued to add little facts here and there. Parents were always able to come have lunch whenever they wished. There were multiple security guards throughout campus. People couldn’t get into buildings or classrooms without being buzzed in or with a badge (Paige would love that). Soleil would have a buddy in second grade to help her adjust to any changes, and once she got to second grade, she would get her own little buddy.

Once they approached the two preschool classes, Ms. Clarkson spoke a little quieter, only to Azzi. “She seems a bit shy, but if she would like, she could sit in Mrs. Russell’s class. That’s the class she would be in you decided to send her here. It shouldn’t be too overwhelming; our classes are very small. There would only be five other students in there with Soleil.”

Azzi nodded and thanked the woman, guiding Soleil a few feet away. “How you feeling, sweetheart?”

Soleil shrugged a bit, “It’s pweety. But want you to be my teachew.”

Azzi’s heart clenched, like it always did when Soleil said something sweet. “Well do you wanna see how the other teacher is? It doesn’t mean you have to stay with her. Just trying it out, okay?” Soleil nodded. “If you don’t want to, you don’t need to. We can go get lunch and go home right now.”

She tugged at the hem of her romper, shuffling her feet nervously. “I twy. But I can come back?”

Azzi touched her forehead to the girl’s. “You can come back whenever.”

With a nod, Soleil let herself be guided into the classroom. Azzi stood back and watched Soleil introduce herself to the group.

She slowly and silently backed out of the room to finish the tour with Ms. Clarkson.

“So, do you have any questions for me?” Ms. Clarkson beamed.

Azzi inhaled deeply. “Soleil was just pulled out of St. Paul’s because of their views on our family. She was getting bullied about it, and we’re not putting up with that again. How do we make sure that doesn’t happen?”

Ms. Clarkson’s brows pinched together. “I’m so sorry she had to go through that. At Four Oaks, we have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, for any reason. We also teach the children that we must be accepting of all people, no matter their background, religion, race, wealth. We pride ourselves on creating close classroom communities where children wouldn’t even think of picking on others.”

Azzi nodded, finally able to breathe a little easier. She let Ms. Clarkson go through the student handbook and list the extracurriculars and parent nights they offered. She noted all of them, making sure to listen more intently on things Soleil would like. She wanted to make sure she could give a comprehensive report to Paige.

She watched Soleil through the window. After a few minutes, Soleil had come out of her shell a bit, raising her hand to give input about the story Mrs. Russell was reading. Once the story was over, she sat next to a darker skinned girl. She shared her crayons and paper with Soleil.

Azzi snapped a picture of a bright smile and sent it to Paige immediately.

Azzi: maybe got a winner? 🤩🤩 sunny girl loves it!

Paige Bueckers: She’s shining already. Thank you so much, Azzi.

When 1:00 rolls around, Mrs. Russell’s class moves into silent reading time, and it’s time for Soleil to go.

Completely gone is the shy girl from an hour ago. “Mrs. Wussell’s woom smells like candy! Did you see my new fwiend? Hew name is Mia!” She reached her arms up, and once Azzi had Soleil perched on her hip, the girl went on her tangent.

Ms. Clarkson walked them back to the front office, and Azzi took advantage of the deep breath Soleil paused to take and turned towards the redhead. “Thank you so much for the tour; she loved it. I’ll talk to Paige, and she should be getting back to you all this evening.”

Azzi walked to the car with Soleil on one arm and the student handbook, tuition paperwork, and enrollment packet in the other.

The sun was bright in their eyes, and Azzi knew Soleil’s future at Four Oaks could be just as bright.

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Their day had been perfect. They had a perfectly delicious breakfast at the park. They had found the perfect school for Soleil (even though she said she still wanted Azzi to be her teacher). They had picked up pho from Azzi’s favorite Vietnamese restaurant. They were heading home to watch Frozen and pig out on the delicious soup.

Nothing can stay perfect for long though.

Downtown Chicago was always busy. People always knocking into each other without a second glance. For this reason, Azzi held Soleil close to her chest, having the little girl wrap her arms around Azzi’s neck before they got out of the car. Morgan had pulled as close as possible to Aurelia’s doors. She’d offered to carry the food up to the penthouse, since Azzi’s arms were full of Soleil.

Azzi was it three steps from the car before she saw him.

When she’d looked out of the car window and caught the first glance of the slicked back blond hair, her breath hitched a bit.

But she talked herself down. There was no way anyone had already found out she’d moved to Aurelia. And in a flash, the hair had disappeared. She was just anxious and wound up because of all of the people.

She exhaled deeply. Morgan came around to open the door for Azzi and Soleil.

Adjusting her grip on the girl, she slid out of the Range Rover smoothly.

With the first step, she felt a heated gaze on her. Not like the one from Paige this morning, the kind that made her warm inside. No. This gaze made her spine go straight.

With the second step, her eyes darted around. Eager to find who was staring at her and making all the hair on her arms stand up. So focused she didn’t hear Morgan calling her name.

The third steps she took had her locking eyes with him.

He found her.

Grant found her.

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Paige had a spending problem. Not all the time, but when she decided to spend money, she went big every time.

She wasn’t impulsive. She was comparing cars, seeing which one she should get next. She’d narrowed it down to the Aston Martin DBX707 and the Porsche 911 Turbo S. They could both fit Lei’s car seat in the back. There were both performance cars, and the cost for each was well over 100,000. But Paige had just signed her biggest client of the year; she deserved a treat.

Before she could compare the engines, her phone rang. MoChellie.

Paige’s heart stopped for a second. What the fuck happened for Morgan to be calling her?

She took a deep breath, answering the call.

But before she could say anything, she could hear whimpering in the background. Soleil.

“Morgan wha –”

The chauffeur cut her off frantically. “I need you to get here. Like now.” She rushed out. “I don’t even know what happened. I was dropping them off, and we got out, and Azzi just starts looking around like crazy. Holding on to Soleil real tight. She looked scared. And I thought it was just a lot of people or something. But then she got real stiff, and I couldn’t even ask her nothing before she was back in the car with Soleil.”

Paige was already up and on the elevator to the lobby before Morgan had started the second sentence. “Where are you now, Mo?”

“I haven’t moved! Azzi still has Soleil in her lap, and I don’t wanna drive if she’s not in her seat.”

“Alright, I’m on the way. Stay on the phone and let me know if anything changes. Try to get her to calm down, okay?”

Paige made it to Aurelia in record time. Spotting the car the girls are in, she turned off her McLaren with the push of a button, rushing to the SUV.

She probably shouldn’t have knocked on the window. She could tell that she’d startled Azzi. The brunette’s eyes were wide, wild, and wet.

Paige yanked open the door roughly and pulled Azzi and Soleil out of the car. She didn’t let Azzi say anything, just pulled the two of them into her body and moved them into the lobby.

She knew the three of them were getting strange looks from people in the lobby, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get Azzi and Soleil somewhere safe, so she could figure out whatever the fuck was going on.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, Paige let out a deep breath.

“I think she saw someone in the crowd.” Paige jumped, forgetting Morgan was following her. “I think that’s what freaked her out.”

Paige nodded, “Thanks for getting them back to the car Morgan.” Her eyes drop to the bag of food. “You can keep that, and I’ll DoorDash something. You’re off the rest of the week.”

“Thanks P,” Morgan says as the elevator dings. “I’ll see you later. Let me know if y’all need anything.”

Paige walked them off the elevator, giving Morgan a head nod before the doors closed again.

After guiding Azzi to sit on the couch, Paige went to take Soleil from her arms.

“No.” Azzi’s arms tightened around the girl, voice sharp.

“Hey, hey, Az. It’s me. It’s just Paige.” Her hand came up to cup her tanned cheek.

Big brown eyes fluttered, head shaking a bit. Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, and her arms fell limply to her side. “I – I – I’m so sorry, Paige. I just – I didn’t know. And he just – I don’t –” Tears filled her eyes again as she tried to explain.

“It’s okay, Azzi. I’m gonna put Lei down. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” Paige said softly.

Paige was unsure how Soleil was able to fall asleep with all of the commotion, and thought maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

Azzi was in the exact same spot, still like a statue.

“Can you tell me what happened, Azzi?” Paige sat next to her.

“He found me. My ex – Grant – he found me, and he was waiting outside. I thought he was gonna get Soleil. Didn’t want her to get hurt. I’m sorry, I just wanted her to be safe.” A whimper escaped, and Azzi shot up, turning to the elevator. “I have to go.”

At this, Paige stood quickly. “Wait, wait, wait.” She said reaching for Azzi, hands dropping when Azzi flinched. “Azzi, you don’t need to go anywhere.”

“But he found me. He’s gonna be pissed. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Tears were falling down her face fast now.

Paige raised her hands and moved towards Azzi slowly, “Did he hit you, Azzi?”

Another flinch and whimper. “Only once. I left that night.”

The blonde pulled her into a tight hug, her body tense with rage. She took a deep breath, noting the man’s name. She’d have Ash look into him. “That’s good Azzi. You got away from him, and you don’t have to go back.”

Pagie tugged her closer. One hand on her waist, one hand on the back of her neck. Azzi melted into Paige’s embrace. Then, sobs racked her body.

“It’s okay, Azzi. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

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A/N: I had to end it here, or this would’ve been a 6k word chapter! I’m hoping to be able to post the next chapter by tonight! Go Wings!! xx Elle

[grumpkinpumpkinhead]

The only reason I really want Taiyang in Vacuo is so we can get a scene like this with Weiss and Zwei while Blake is meeting her girlfriend's dad for the first time.

[buttercupshands]

rewatched Kurogiri's holiday story from ultra impact (not related to sketch at all)

(but it did inspire me)

on another note

finally!!

[gorgeys]

purple tongues ★ mari ibarra x fem!reader

some couples measure their love in pictures, or flowers, or kisses.  you and mari measure yours in slurpees.

word count: 2700 warnings: maybe mari a little ooc?

a/n: this is barely edited so it's a little rough around the edges

also this is supposed to be the first part of that big mari fic i was teasing here. i started writing a part 2 with more snapshots of mari and reader's relationship in the future but it might never get done who knows.

missing my shayla sm 💔💔

it started the night before everything began.  the night before you left for nationals.

you and mari had ditched the bonfire party early on, mari claiming "this looks like a scene out of can't hardly wait, minus anyone fuckable."  instead, the two of you walked down the lonely, dark neighborhood roads, music fading out of earshot and hands brushing with each step.

mari filled the silence by making fun of everyone's outfits that night just to hear you laugh.  you filled the space by leaning into her side and finally grabbing her hand, which left mari's heart thumping against her rib cage.  until you both stumbled across wiskayok's only 7/11.

sure it was cramped and old and smelled like weed, but the way mari opened the door for you and drawled "after you, milady," made it seem like the fanciest place in town.  you laughed all the way to the slurpee machine, mari guiding you with a hand on the small of your back, where you both reached for big gulp cups.

"half cherry, half coke," you say, filling your cup to the brim.  "just like god intended."

mari scrunches up her nose in disgust, but it's more cute than anything.

"no, no, no.  see, you gotta get blue raspberry like a real adult," mari says as if she's enlightening you.

"yeah, right."  you roll your eyes, but your smile speaks volumes.

she grabs a few crumpled dollar bills from the back pocket of her jeans and throws them down on the counter like it's not even a question that she's paying for you.  then she tugs you by the hand out the door and finds a nice spot on the curb illuminated by the overhead streetlight.

she outstretches her legs and lazily leans back on one hand, the other bringing the straw to her lips.  she moans dramatically after taking her first sip.

"enjoying that?" you ask, glancing over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"oh yeah," she says, grinning back.  "a thousand calories and enough artificial sweetener to kill a horse.  nationals here we come!"

you laugh, the sound mari's come to love so much, before taking a sip of your own.

there's a beat of silence.  it's something mari used to hate, but has come to understand since meeting you.  she actually finds herself enjoying the quiet when it's shared with you.  still she's always one to break it.

"isn't this so much better than getting puked on by randy walsh?" 

you look over at her and grin.  because yeah, that had actually happened last year and she would spend the rest of her years teasing you about it.  but you also smiled because there was no one else you'd rather be with.

"yeah, it really is," you say, breathlessly and genuinely.

when mari turns and sees the way you're looking at her, full of love and everything she doesn't think she deserves, she feels like her heart might as well jump out of her chest and into your hands. because mari, whose first language is sarcasm and shit talking, somehow harbors a soft spot in the shape of you.

"don't look at me like that," she says, but her words lack the bite they usually have.  her eyes flicker down to the asphalt, a similar smile spreading across her face.

you lean in closer, lowering your face so she's forced to meet your eyes.  mari's the opposite of shy, so you can't help but take advantage of moments like this, when she's nervous to show how much she really cares.

"like what?" you ask, a teasing edge to your voice.  like you already know what she's going to say.

"like you love me or something," she says, trying and failing to sound casual.  she looks back up at you, leaning back on her hand with that easy smirk.

"but i do," you say, resting your cheek against your knee, still smiling up at her.

"obviously, you dork."

a breathy chuckle pushes past your lips before you cup her face in your free hand.  your lips meet hers halfway in a strong, sure kiss.  it's not perfect by normal standards --both of your lips are freezing and taste like artificial sweetener and you can hear boys shouting on the other side of the parking lot.  but in that moment, it feels perfect to the both of you.

when mari pulls back she grins like she's just won the lottery.

"i love you too," she says, the words rolling off her tongue more naturally than her own name.

you smile, reaching down and interlacing your fingers with hers on the pavement.  you don't have the guts to say it, but a part of you is thinking it: maybe this could be forever.

if you had known that was going to be your last taste of normal, you would have stayed there even longer, would've bought mari another slurpee, would've kissed her one more time under the neon sign of the store.  instead, you walked her home an hour or two later, kissing her cheek at the door and whispering how beautiful of a night it had been with her.

the next time you think about slurpees, you're a thousand miles deep in the canadian wilderness.  you're starving, borderline freezing to death, and you've just watched your closest friends die.

you're tucked under as many blankets as you could find, legs tangled with mari's beneath them as you try to keep out the cold of the approaching winter.  your faces are so close that you can feel her warm breath fanning against your nose, a welcome reminder that she's still there.  she can feel your hand trembling as it holds onto her arm and the way you stiffen each time a strong gust of wind enters the hut, as if you're waiting for something bad to happen.

you think she might be asleep until you feel her fingers start to trace your cheekbone.  her touch is so gentle you have to question if it's really there or if you're just imagining it.

"do you remember our last night?" she whispers.

you open your eyes, and from the way the moonlight reflects off of them, mari knows you do.

"i think about it all the time," she confesses.  "when i can't sleep, i just try to remember you that night.  how pretty you looked under the streetlight and how stupid i was for not telling you then."

your lips curl into a weak, sad smile.

"and how you threw your head back and laughed at everything i said, even when it wasn't funny.  and-and how everything felt perfect when you held my hand."

"mari..." you whisper, leaning forward so your forehead rests against hers.

"and how happy you were to just be there with me.  i'm scared i'll never see you like that again."

you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tears start to swell.  you haven't cried in a while, but as every sight, sound, and taste from that night comes rushing back to you, you suddenly realize how much you've lost.

"i'm scared too, mar," you say, hand moving from her arm to her cheek.  "and i don't know what to say to make it better."

mari exhales, shaky and slow, like she's trying to keep it together for you.

"you don't have to say anything.  it's just...my favorite memory.  you're my favorite memory.  even if you do get that disgusting cherry coke mix that tastes like battery acid."

"shut up," you laugh quietly, pushing her shoulder.  it's a small, broken laugh that catches on the edge of a sob.  "it's so good and you know it."

"yeah, whatever," she says, smiling wider than you've seen in a while.

"i think i'd cut off my left arm just to have another one of those," you sigh.

"what?  slurpee?"

"yeah, that.  but also just...another night with you."  your hand's cradling her neck now, holding her like she's the only thing you've got left.

"tell you what," she starts, voice nearly breaking.  her fingers brush your hair out of your face.  "first thing i do if we get rescued, i'm taking you back to that place.  i'm getting you your battery acid slurpee.  we'll sit on the curb and you'll hold my hand and i'll kiss you so hard our tongues turn purple.  we'll rewrite the memory.  i promise."

a loose tear trickles down your cheek as you nod your head. 

"deal," you whisper.  then mari leans forward and kisses the tear away.

"i love you."

"i love you more," you say, wrapping your arm around her as she buries her face in your neck.

you close your eyes and you see that image of mari: laughing, carefree, straw between her lips.  and for the first time, you let yourself imagine what it will be like after you're rescued, when you get to see that version of mari again.  and it's the first time you have a semblance of good night's sleep since the plane crash.

and then it finally happens.  rescue comes even though a part of you had given up on it entirely.  and mari's there, holding your hand through it all.  from the hospital, to the anxious plane ride home, to seeing wiskayok for the first time in almost two years.

and then, just like she promised, you're sitting the passenger seat of mari's car as she drives you back to that 7/11.  it's a quiet drive, one where you're staring out the window and taking in the sights and sounds of the town that hasn't changed a bit since you last saw it.  and mari's fingers are tapping anxiously against the steering wheel while her other hand rests in yours over the center console like a lifeline, grounding you when everything feels like too much.

when she finally pulls into the parking lot and puts the car in park, you both just sit there.  it looks exactly the same way it did on that night: neon sign outside, too-bright fluorescent lights inside, and the kids with their bikes loitering around the entrance.  it was as if time had frozen that night, and the store had been awaiting your return all these months later.

mari exhales a heavy breath from beside you.

"you good?" you murmur, eyes never leaving the store.  this feels like a dream.  one you thought you'd never get to fulfill.

"yeah, it's just...a lot," mari says.

it shouldn't be a lot.  it should just be a random 7/11 in some random boring town.  but to you and mari, it's everything.

"i know," you say, squeezing her hand.  "we don't have to if-"

"no, i want to.  i've been waiting to.  it's all i've been thinking about for two years and now it's here."  she looks over at you and smiles.  "come on, let's go."

she gets to the door first and holds it open for you.

"after you, milady," she says, just like last time, except her voice is softer and more careful now.  it's a small but sharp reminder that you'll never get back the innocence you once had.

you don't throw your head back in laughter this time, you just smile, hand still in hers, tugging her inside after you.  the smell of weed hits you like a freight train, but for once, you don't mind.  you lead mari to the slurpee machine that's still in the same spot and you sigh when you see the flavors are exactly the same: cherry, blue raspberry, coke, and that weird sugar free green one that nobody gets.

"god, mar, i might cry," you say.  you expect her to tease you like usual, something about how much of a sap you are, but instead she releases your hand and holds your waist instead.

"me too," she says, resting her chin on your shoulder.  you spare her a smile over your shoulder before reaching for two of the largest cups.

"coke and cherry?" she asks.

"just like god intended," you say, pulling on the cherry lever.  mari watches you, no longer bothering to hide the fondness in her eyes.

she eventually heads for blue raspberry, telling you, "somethings never change."

"and i never want them to," you say.

"me neither," she says, looping an arm through yours and guiding you toward the unbothered cashier.

mari tries to pay but you're quicker this time.

"nope, i've had this debt for two years.  time to repay it," you say, sliding a couple crumpled bills of your own onto the counter.  you had been sure to grab them before you left the house just for this very occasion, so that, for once, you could be the one to take care of mari.

"it's two dollars, you idiot," mari teases before dragging you outside to the same spot on the curb under the same flickering streetlight.

the two of you wordlessly sit, knees brushing.  for once, the night air is warm and the sounds of wiskayok hum in the background and there's no weight on either of your shoulders, no fear.

"we're really here," mari says, leaning back on her hand like muscle memory.

"just like you promised."

"i didn't even know if we were going to make it out when i told you that," mari admits.

"i know," you say, elbows resting on your knees.  "but that didn't matter.  just thinking about it made everything a little less bad.  and now, being here, with you, it's better than i could've ever imagined."

she recognizes the way you're looking at her, like she hung the stars in your sky.  it's the same look you gave her that night, the one that made her heart jump and scared her a little.  except now she doesn't shy away. she melts right into it.

she lifts her cup in the air like it's something sacred.

"to making new memories," she says. 

you tap the rim of your cup against hers, making a plastic clinking sound.

"to us," you add. 

because that's what it's been all along, the two of you. and after everything, you know that's how it's going to stay: the two of you tethered, two halves of a whole.

you hold eye contact as you both take your first sips, until the slush hits her tongue and mari's eyes roll back in her head.

"oh my god, that's the best thing i've ever tasted," mari groans, dramatically throwing her head back in true mari fashion.

you can't even respond, you're chugging it so fast.  but then reality hits

"fuck!" you curse, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your palm against your forehead.

mari turns to you, smirking as if watching you suffer is her favorite comedy.

"brain freeze?"

"yep," you wince.  "battery acid's never tasted so good."

mari laughs, setting her cup down on the pavement.  then she turns her body fully toward yours, like she's about to say something immensely serious.  but there's still that mischievous glint in her eye that tells you she's got something up her sleeve.

"now, time to fulfill the prophecy."

you blink at her and the sudden tone shift.

"what?" you ask, giving her a concerned look.  "are you going all lottie on me?"

"no, dummy, purple tongues," she says like it's the most obvious thing ever.  "i gotta keep my promise, don't i?"

a breathless, free laugh escapes your lips.  it's been so long since mari's heard it, she thinks she might cry.

"you're so stupid," you say, though you're already leaning in.

she grabs your face with both hands, still cold from holding the cup, and pulls you into a kiss.  it's not stolen like it was before.  now it's slow and timeless, but still certain.  she kisses you like she wants to steal back every moment she thought she'd never get with you.  and you're more than willing to let her.

"love you," you whisper against her lips, her hands holding you firmly and not letting you escape her.

"love you too," she whispers back before kissing you so hard you get dizzy.

and that's how your favorite tradition is formed: you, mari, slurpees, and a whole lot of love.

[gyaruhana]

Omg can we get some more player 120 (Cho Hyun-ju) sfw n nsfw headcanons where shes protective n dominant? Pls n thank uu I loved ur last work w her🩷

Cho Hyun-ju/Player 120 - Headcannons (sfw + nsfw)

Synopsis: more Hyun-ju headcannons !

A/N: ask and i shall serve !!

Warnings: smut content

SFW:

➠ i'm immediately jumping into the scene in the last episode where she was locked in bc holy moly she was so hot.. ➠ wouldn't let you go with her unless you were well-trained with a gun and able to handle it ➠ even then she's always keeping you close behind her ➠ When she's not shooting at the guards, she's looking at you to make sure you're doing okay ➠ if you run out of ammo, she doesn't hesitate to give you one of her magazines ➠ If you end up panicking she's immediately there to distract you from the gunshots and reassuring you that everything is fine and you'll both be okay ➠ and you both will be because she refuses to die or to let you die ➠ not when you both had already made plans for Thailand after you get out of here ➠ On a lighter note !! ➠ most doting girl ever ➠ does give you some of her food sometimes if you're feeling hungry ➠ If someone insults you, she's instantly at your side to defend you ➠ she HATES people thinking they can treat you badly ➠ do play with her hair she loves it sm ➠ expect her to hold your hand a lot because she's not afraid of PDA ➠ late night talks after lights out which sometimes just turns into staring into each others eyes ➠ so many quiet "I love you"'s whispered during those talks too ➠ likes when you cup her face in your hands honestly ➠ you guys are always talking about WHEN you make it out of this place and never if ➠ so so many plans for Thailand ➠ After the death of Young-mi, she definitely needed your comfort and got so much more protective of you ➠ if you go to the bathrooms, she's right there behind you ➠ you're basically never alone during the games ➠ Absolutely fights for you ➠ Overall, so protective of you and not afraid to put someone in their place if they disrespect you

"I have a few nice places to live in Thailand saved on my phone. I can show you them when we get out," you speak from your bed as you turn to face her. She smiles slightly at your words and nods her head. You both had been planning for Thailand since forever and now the dream seemed so much closer with the money you could take home. Even if some people died, neither of you would be next. Not as long as you were there to protect each other and survive this hellish place together. "I'd like that,"

NSFW:

➠ Again, she's gentle. ➠ not a big fan of having public sex so she often takes you to the bathroom with her if you guys are in the mood ➠ most skillfull pussy eater icl ➠ she knows exactly how to make you feel good ➠ gentle and meaningful kisses that convey so much love ➠ she's just a gentle cutie ➠ always whispering praises to you ➠ baby, my girl, sweetheart - literally every sweet pet name in the book ➠ refuses to be rough with you because she wants to help you relax and be calm from the stress of the games and the death ➠ always kisses you after making you cum on her fingers ➠ which happens quite quickly honestly.. ➠ she's just a little too good at fingering you.. ➠ she's practically memorized every part of you though that's why ➠ encourages volume and expressing how you feel ➠ she bases her pace on your facial expressions because she's ridiculously observant ➠ Overall, gentle girlfriend who knows how to please you<3

"You're close, yeah?" She says quietly as she looks up at you, her fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you quickly. The two of you didn't have a lot of time as the guard waiting just outside the bathroom likely wouldn't let you stay for long. That's why she was so quick with her fingers. The last thing she'd want is for you to be left without a release. "Go ahead. Cum on my fingers, my love,"

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

FUCK YOU, don't leave me

Part Four: Better Terms (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five)

Special Thanks to @gallyismylittlesilly for reminding me to keep writing this lol :)

Gally x Fem!Reader NSFW

Your purely-sexual relationship with Gally is threatening to blossom into something all-too-terrifyingly real. Your unsaid feelings for each other create an awkward tension that breaks abruptly one night in a very unexpected way. Is this the end of your relationship with Gally? Or just the beginning?

Genre: enemies to lovers, lowkey angst at the end, smut scenes sprinkled throughout

Word Count: 4.4K Read Time: 14 Mins

Warnings & Info: protected p in v sex, blowjob, Gally praise kink???kinda???, nonessential OC’s, movie versions, takes place in TMR with thomas but kind of in a vacuum the plot doesn’t move forward Gally's thoughts in green, Y/N's thoughts in blue

Authors Note: I KNOW I SAID THIS WAS GONNA BE THE LAST PART BUT IT’S ACTUALLY NOT THERE’S GONNA BE ONE MORE LOL. I picked a different format for these last two parts and I hope you like it. I cannot believe the amount of support I’ve gotten on this, I truly appreciate all of you so much. Thanks for waiting so patiently as I abandoned and then re-found this fic:)

–Prologue–

The time has come. That dreaded moment nobody who drank too much last night wants to reach. But it’s here:

The morning after. 

The time when the sun seems too bright, the world seems too loud and everything is moving too fast for you to collect the disjointed memories of the events that led you to the state you’re in now. You’re sweaty, shaky, have a pounding headache and a very weak stomach that is violently threatening to empty its contents, if it hasn’t already. 

This is usually around the time that you start swearing to yourself, your friends, and anyone that will listen that you’re “never drinking again”. This is almost always a lie. 

The version of you that downs shots like they’re water has never met the version of you that is bent over a toilet, feeling those shots come back up, burning your throat just as much the second time as they did the first. The drunk version of you thinks the hungover version of you is a buzzkill and the hungover version of you thinks the drunk version of you is a maniac. But they’ll never meet, so they’ll never reconcile their differences, and you’ll cycle between them continuously until you get older or more boring or die.

The hungover version of you and Gally are doing about as well as you’d expect them too. The former is currently ducking her head behind a bush next to the Med-hut to vomit up bile for the third time this morning and the latter is swaying unpleasantly on the construction site of a new hut that’s going up, silently willing the sun to stop beating down and the volume of his crew’s voices to silence. It is the opposite versions of these two people that have set into motion a chain of events that will lead to a conclusion neither of them would be able to fathom at this moment. 

In exactly 49 days starting from today, Gally will confess his feelings to you. And in exactly 49 days and several minutes starting from today, you will confess yours back.

How exactly does this happen? The versions of you and Gally that exist today still despise each other. 50 days hardly seems like an appropriate turnaround time to go from hatred to fondness. In fact when you look back on the events of this story, the timeline befuddles you as much as it would anybody else. It’s hard to look at the big picture and see the slow change from you two being The Glade’s biggest rivals to then becoming a steamy secret hookup, then a very strange situationship, and then finally two parts of a genuine, real connection. But when you zoom in on all the small moments, (ones that seemed insignificant at the time), it becomes clear as day.

{<--------->}

Day 1

“You came back late last night,” Gia poses suggestively while straightening out the covers on her bed.

“We thought you died,” Ariana continues with mock concern, braiding her hair while sitting on the hut floor.

“Or fell in the pond,” Lireale counters earnestly, setting a stack of her newly folded clothes into her trunk.

“So which one was it?” Elsie takes the direct approach while sitting on the edge of her bed, removing her socks.

“Neither; I just got lost for a bit. Drunk Y/N has a terrible sense of direction,” 

Your lie comes easily and your friends roll their eyes at your poor decision. You usually loved these nighttime debriefings but this one was starting to feel like a minefield.

“I thought you might’ve snuck off with a boy,” the newest Greenie pipes up quietly from atop her new bed in the corner, a smile tugging at her lips. The group breaks into barking laughter that’s just distracting enough to keep anyone from noticing the heat prickling under your eye sockets.

“Y/N isn’t exactly into boys,” Ariana pipes up with a knowing look at you as soon as the laughter dies down.

“I would be if we lived somewhere normal. But we don’t. Trust me, greenie, none of these shanks here are worth any of our time,” Your friends give a rousing cheer and the conversation pivots naturally to the new greenie and how she’s liking The Glade so far. You’re grateful their eyes have left your face, allowing your blush to dissipate gradually and your mind to stop replaying flashbacks of the night before.

Day 2

“Jesus, Newt, I don’t know! I was drunk, I don’t even remember going into the woods the other night. All I know is that I somehow made it back to my hut before morning” Gally snaps, trying to stop the barrage of questions tumbling from his friend's mouth.

“Well, drunk you seemed to be on quite a mission,” Newt counters with a grin, not at all phased by the Builder’s trademark aggression. Newt has a creeping feeling that Gally is full of shit and knows exactly why he entered the woods the other night, but he knows better than to press him. It’s rarely worth it to pick a fight with him.

“I’m sure he was. Next time I’m hammered, I’ll let you know what that mission was,” Gally grumbles, trying his best to put on a sarcastic tone. If he ever did get drunk enough to confess the mission he had been on the other night, he’d throw himself to the Grievers.

Day 5

It hadn’t taken much, really. Some lingering glances, a head jerk in his hut’s direction from Gally, an acknowledging nod from you, a hand signal from him; closed fist to open palm twice in rapid succession (flashing five fingers twice = meet at ten). You’d both been a lot more apprehensive losing your clothing sober, but you’d quickly picked up the passion that had burned the other night once more.

You’re on all fours with your back arched on Gally’s bed and he’s standing behind you, thrusting his hard cock into your quivering pussy as he grabs your waist tightly.

“Are you close?” the Builder huffs out in a low tone.

“Yeah…” He is determined to not leave you without a climax this time and reaches a hand around to your front, fumbling blindly until he locates the bundle of nerves hidden between your folds. When his rough fingers begin to fondle it, you feel a jolt of pleasure zap your body that causes your arms to buckle beneath you.

“Keep…doing that….and…slower….pleeease”. The whine on that last word makes Gally’s cock ache for release but he focuses on delivering you slow thrusts as he swipes at your clit. You feel the warmth building in your core as each stroke pushes you further to the edge until you’re gripping the sheets beside your head and pushing your thighs together, riding your climax to its satisfying finish.

“Did you..?” // “.....duh,” // “Can I-” // “Yeah go ahead,”

With your permission given, Gally quickens his thrusts for a few seconds, his own familiar wave of pleasure washing over him as his cum spurts into the condom buried deep inside of you.

Neither of you says a word while cleaning up and redressing, too high off the post-orgasm endorphins to trust your mouths not to say anything stupid.

“You fuck better when you’re sober,” you finally state with an air of constructed indifference.

“Really?” Gally raises a well-defined eyebrow at you, his blue eyes wide.

“You’re less sloppy. More…” // “...Focused?” // “...Intentional.”

Gally’s heart is pounding in his ears. Your praise of his sexual prowess seems to affect him more each time you express it.

“Thanks. You’re more…responsive, when you’re sober,” It was your turn to become skittish at his soft-spoken, rather clumsy compliment. 

This conversation has been backed into an awkward corner. You cross the room to his door, avoiding his eye contact in the process, ready to make a quick escape.

“‘Night” // “Yeah see you, um, later I guess” // “Yeah,”

The door closes quickly behind you, leaving Gally to curse his lack of verbal smoothness in his now starkly empty hut.

Day 7

You’re wrapping a thick gauze bandage around Chuck’s left ankle, which he rolled while trying to catch up with Minho earlier today. Why Chuck would ever believe he would be able to catch up to a guy whose only job is to run, is beyond you. The youngest Glader always seems to be tripping over his own feet, so this incident is nothing new. As he chatters idly, Jeff pokes his head around the med-hut’s dividing wall.

“Are you close?” he asks simply, entirely unaware of the context in which you last heard that phrase.

“What?!” you snap, your head swiveling so fast to meet his eye line that your hair slaps you in the face.

“Are you close to being done with Chuck?” he repeats, his forehead creasing in bewilderment at your reaction. “Fry burned his hand, we need the exam table,”

“Oh, yeah, give me two minutes,” you reply, relief coloring your voice now.

Day 11

Alby had sent one of his orderlies to fetch Gally “to talk”. The entire walk over, the Builder’s stomach had been doing somersaults. Had Alby somehow seen? Did someone else, and had they told? Did you tell him? His panic was for nothing, as it turned out the resounding answer to all of them was “no”.

All Alby had wanted to say to him was a generic message of praise. He gave sincere thanks for the incident-free bonfire night and encouraged him to keep up his civil behavior. He told Gally that he appreciated that he could be the bigger person.

The Builder had tried to conceal a chuckle at his leader’s choice of words as he exited the meeting room. He knew he shouldn’t be reminiscing about the walls of your pussy taking his cock as deep as he could bury it while getting genuine compliments from an authority figure, but the memories were too intoxicating to stop.

They had him riding a high of lustful endorphins for the rest of the day that confused his crew as they whispered theories to each other about what the hell was making their otherwise surly leader so easy-going today.

Day 14

“Dinner in the Med-hut tonight?” Minho asks comfortably, taking a spot behind you in line in the dining hall.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta restock supplies. Tomorrow Alby’s doing an inspection and the place is a goddamn disaster,” you sigh, not looking forward to your task but feeling it might be better with Minho to keep you company. The Runner was notoriously easy company to keep.

“Cool, I’ll give you a hand,” he states.

“No you don’t have to, you can just sit and talk to me while I-”

“I want to help,” Minho cuts you off, surprising himself with his boldness. Too forward, Minho, way too forward.

“Ok then. I’d appreciate your help,” you smile back, pleasantly surprised by his kindness.

Maybe not too forward?

Day 17

“...and thanks to Gally and his Builders for the new hut by the Map Room. I’m sure everybody who no longer has to sleep in a bloody hammock is grateful,” Newt reads from a clipboard of meeting notes, pride coloring his tone. A small smattering of applause ripples through the meeting room, with the inhabitants of this new hut clapping louder than all others. 

Gally gives an uncharacteristic smile that warms his usually stony face. You lock eye contact with him from across the room. Your gesture is small, (an almost-imperceivable nod and one singular clap of your hands), but he finds himself exceptionally appreciative nonetheless.

Day 19

You’re on your knees in the deadheads with the full length of Gally’s erect cock sheathed in your willing throat. He’s standing against a tree with shaking knees, his large fingers threaded through your soft hair, scattered moans and guttural whimpers falling from his lips.

“Fuck, ‘mclose…” he manages to breathe out, his grip on your hair tightening. 

Your heart flutters at this comment and you alternate between taking his entire length to the back of your throat in short, coarse jabs and swirling your tongue around his tip. The fluctuation is overstimulating for Gally, who still can’t believe you agreed to do this to him, in the middle of the work day. Maybe it’s this sudden surge of gratitude that brings a certain nickname to his mind.

“Thank you…princess…” he moans out, cringing slightly at his own comment at first but quickly losing himself in the pleasure once more. You run your tongue back and forth over the sensitive area just underneath his tip and stroke the rest of his shaft with your right hand.

“Princess…’m gonna…cum-” he chokes out, which serves as your cue to take his entire length deep in your throat and swallow every spurt of bitter liquid that ejaculates from his swollen tip. Gally releases his death grip on your hair and smooths it out softly, breathing heavily and trying to get his vision to quit spinning.

He looks down at you, as you release your mouth from around his cock and plant small kisses up and down his shaft that send shivers through his already-sensitive body.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a blush, his rough hands traveling from your hair to your cheeks, where he cups them gently. The gesture is affectionate, which means it’s very out of character for Gally. So is apologizing, actually.

“Sorry for what?” you inquire, making eye contact with him through heavily lidded eyes.

“The nickname. I know it was dumb, I don’t know why I thought-”

“I liked it, actually,” you confess, standing and brushing away the dirt that sticks to your knees.

Gally pulls up his pants and boxers that had been pooling around his ankles and breaks out into a proud grin. He stretches himself to his full height and leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Well then; have a good day princess,” he coos, letting the lust color his voice as he slinks away before you can respond.

Day 21

The air in between you and your Runner companion is unseasonably chilly but calm. Birds chirping loudly in the trees, leaves rustling in the trees and two pairs of boots squelching on the wet ground creates the sonic palette beneath your easy conversation. You gather white-headed mushrooms littering the forest floor to make a pain-relieving salve and deposit them in the wicker basket Minho insists on holding for you. 

“No offense to those guys obviously,” you start, depositing a handful of mushrooms into the basket with a soft thud, “it’s just that I wish we could have, like, real clothes,”

“Ones that aren’t sewed by teenagers using whatever materials they can find?” Minho asks with a smile.

“Yes. Ones that might be a tad more flattering to my figure,” you chuckle, straightening up from your leaning stance to stretch the loose fabric of your tunic to its full size with your hands. Minho seems to ponder this comment for a moment.

“I don’t know…” he mumbles, “I don’t think your figure needs much flattering,”

The statement hangs in the air for a moment, almost creating a tense cloud that you quickly dissipate with a well-placed snide comment.

“Yeah right,” you snort, forcing down the smile that threatens to envelop your face.

Day 24

“Y/N, can you toss me that rope?”

Gally realizes his faux pas as soon as the question leaves his lips. Everyone in his immediate vicinity snaps their heads up to look at him, having never heard him say your name for any other purpose than to start a fight. He tries to keep his expression neutral, though internally he’s panicking. There’s no way his fellow Gladers could work out that you two were having sex based on him asking you to hand him a piece of equipment…. but could they? 

“Sure, here,” you respond evenly, tossing the rope that was sitting in the grass next to you towards the Builder. You try to ignore the stares and hope the heat in your cheeks can be easily excused by the midday sun.

“Thanks,” he mutters, and all but leaves a cartoonish puff of smoke behind him, as he turns on his heel and returns to the task he needed the rope for.

That was bold, you think to yourself, watching the Glade’s inhabitants dart their eyes between you and him in bewilderment. You fix your face into a neutral expression, and silently plot to slug Gally in the arm for being so obvious when you see him in his hut later tonight.

Day 27

As it turns out, Gally asking you to hand him a rope is indeed enough to stoke rumors in The Glade that have been steadily growing for several days now.

“It was so weird,” Gladers would whisper to their friends who didn’t witness the minor incident, that has now been retold so many times it’s akin to legend.

“I thought they hated each other?” another would ask.

“I guess they made up,” others would chime in reluctantly.

You and Gally’s outright display of civility seemed to have marked a distinct end to an era for the most prolific gossipers among The Glade’s midst. For months upon months, they could rely on your feud with him to create consistent, free entertainment that provided a welcome respite from the horrors of everyday life. But now the fireworks seem to be over and the only question on everyone’s mind is; why?

Day 29

Gally stands in front of the closed door and allows his eyes to linger on you longer than he normally does. It’s bonfire night once again, and the both of you got stumbling drunk and ended up back here, repeating the steps of last month’s escapade like a well-rehearsed dance. He watches your figure, clothed in just your linen bra and underwear, sway to a beat no one but you can hear. 

Gally can’t explain why, but he’s beginning to like this arrangement for more than just sexual gratification. After the stress of each day beats him down, he can look forward to moments like this. Watching you dance to an imaginary audience, concealed in his hut, away from prying eyes and Grievers and mazes and chores. Just you and him, in your own little world. 

Day 32

“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever actually told me what you’re into. Like, in words,” you say, pulling away from kissing Gally and continuing the conversation you’d been having a few minutes ago about your preferences in bed.

“Oh, uh, fuck. I guess…ok, don’t laugh at me,” he shoots you an acidic glare. “But I guess I like when you…compliment me? Like when you tell me I’m doing good or I feel good or whatever. It’s uh…it motivates me, I guess,” His face is bright red and his stomach is doing flips; he’s never been this honest and it’s making him feel uncomfortably exposed.

“I probably would have guessed that,” you chuckle, diffusing the tension, “Noted,”

You file this information in the back of your mind and pull him back into you.

Day 34

“So you and Y/N are on better terms then?” Minho asks tentatively over dinner.

“Uh…” Gally pauses. To an untrained eye it might seem like he’s embarrassed, but he’s actually searching his mind for an appropriate half-truth. He is an impressively bad liar and might not be able to contain just how much better the terms he’s on with you are when asked about them directly.

“Yeah kinda. We uh…talked and kinda realized the whole feud thing is dumb. It’s childish,” Gally dismisses, clipping his voice with frequent pauses to keep his tone steady.

“Oh, that’s…that’s great dude!” Minho exhales, trying to keep the swell of excitement from bursting through his chest. If Gally doesn’t want to kill you anymore, then there aren’t many other obstacles keeping him from pursuing you.

Minho steers the conversation away from his question easily, starting in on the newest Greenie and how he nearly took Newt’s head off with a backhoe earlier today. 

Both the Runner and the Builder are blissfully unaware that the slight blush in both of their cheeks have the same source.

Day 35

“You’re so big, Gally,” you moan out, feeling every inch of him stretch your walls deliciously.

“You fill me up so well…” he leans down to kiss your neck, “...no one else could make me feel like this…” his thrusts quickens as desperation for you sets in, “...you’re so hot…” he whimpers in your ear, feeling his climax looming, “...and strong,”

Your addled mind, too preoccupied with the feeling of Gally’s cock sliding in and out of you, starts babbling compliments that are a lot less sexual in tone. 

“You’re so pretty…and smart…you can do…fucking anything. I’m happy I can…do this…for you. You deserve…a fucking��.break. You’re so strong…and good. Gally; you’re so good….you’re good…you’re so good…soooo good…Gally…”

It’s this phrase that causes the Builder’s heart to race like never before. You’re so good. Not good at fucking you, not good in bed, just good. Inherently worthy. 

He’s never had anyone tell him he’s good, full stop. He thrusts harder and sloppier, trying to repay you for the praise. When his orgasm does come, it’s better than all of the other times combined.

He leans down to kiss your collarbone. It’s gentle and needy, not frenzied like before. You feel a drop of liquid on your bare skin, then a few more, then a stifled whimper. 

Gally’s crying. 

His face is hot and he can barely process the feeling of finishing inside you over the shame that’s now washing over him. He kisses your skin, trying to cut off his sobs with the pressure of his lips.

You instinctively run your warm hands up and down Gally’s arms, which simultaneously soothes him and furthers his embarrassment. He sighs and slowly lowers his torso on top of you, nestling his head in the crook of your neck. His heavier body causes unpleasant pressure on your chest but something tells you that moving will spook him. So you don’t. 

Until he pushes himself off of you jarringly, wiping his face and beginning to dress under the oppressive silence that’s now fallen between you two. You do the same, trying to keep your eyes off of him. You debate whether you should just leave his hut without saying a word, until you turn to face him. 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, bouncing his left knee nervously, his hands clasped in a tight fist in front of his mouth, his eyes staring straight ahead. You sit down next to him and place a timid hand on his arm, which he immediately flinches away from.

“Jesus, dude, I can’t touch you now?” you hiss in a biting tone. You know that Gally deals with outright aggression a lot better than shows of vulnerability.

“I just didn’t know what you were doing, damn,” he responds in an equally huffy tone, though his body language doesn’t match. He lets one of his arms fall from his face and you both intertwine your fingers. Another moment of silence passes, and he finally speaks.

“I don’t-I don’t know what that was. I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t expect-I didn’t think that’s what you were gonna say and I-”

“It’s fine. I didn’t know I was gonna say all that stuff either. It just kinda…came out,”

“Yeah…yeah I get it,” 

Another agonizing stretch of silence fills the room.

“Did you, uh…did you mean it?” he winces as his mouth forms the words, as if anticipating a gut-punch.

“Mean what?” Playing dumb won’t stop this display of feelings but it’s your only defense. Gally doesn’t realize that vulnerability terrifies you just as much as it does him.

“What you said. That I’m…” his voice falters. 

He knows he’s about to puncture the nonchalance of your dynamic like a pin through a balloon. But he can’t stop himself. He thinks about the way your praise made his heart race and the rush of affection towards you he’s feeling right now as your hand is wrapped in his and out comes the word vomit, stinging his throat almost as much as the real thing.

“…pretty and uh, smart and that you like doing this for me…” he’s nervously scanning your face for a reaction but it’s your turn to look straight ahead now, becoming frozen with panic. “...and that I’m-I’m good. Do you…really think I’m good, Y/N?”

Yes, you want to scream, yes of course I meant it. All of it. Yes Gally; I think you’re-I mean, yes; you’re good. 

But you don’t say that. You can’t bring yourself to. This is all starting to feel very real and very far from the no-strings-attached sex you signed up for. You’re not ready to admit that this might be something more. So what you actually say is,

“I don’t know. It was just bedroom talk, Gally. I-I just got carried away. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that any of that meant-”

“Right, yeah, ok,” Gally cuts you off quickly, feeling a terrible ache rumble his chest, like a wall’s been dropped on top of him. He feels the hot sting of humiliation like flames connecting to his skin. He drops your hand quickly and resumes his original position of clasping his fists in front of his mouth, his elbows propped up on his knees.

“Gally I-” It’s already too late for justifications. The moment has passed.

“I think you should leave,” he’s still staring straight ahead, his eyes glassy.

“Uh, ok. Like, now?” you try to keep the pain out of your voice by feigning confusion.

“Yeah. You came here to fuck me and you did so, you can leave now,” he snaps back. Anger always seems to suit Gally better; it’s more becoming of him. 

“I don’t…I don’t understand what I did wrong,” Yes I do.

“Nothing’s wrong. We’re done having sex. Get the fuck out of my hut now,” Please don’t leave.

“Fine asshole; I’m leaving!” I’m sorry.

You rise to your feet dumbfounded. I’m sorry. You grab your jacket from the floor. I’m sorry. You walk to the door. I’m sorry. You turn the knob. I’m sorry. You step over the threshold. I’m sorry. You shut the door behind you. I’m sorry.

Despite the hundreds of times the phrase “I’m sorry” pounded in your ears as you left Gally behind, you never found the courage to say it out loud. You wipe your own tears from your eyes as you walk back to your hut, hoping that wasn’t the last chance you’d ever get to say it.

{<--------->}

Tags: @katie-tibo @my-little-universes @cthood @decaffeinatedpuppygiver @sarahstar11

[slutforvoldy]

“ YOU'RE LOSING ME. ” ( lando norris ! )

SUMMARY: the reader struggles with the painful realization that no matter how much she gives, lando will never fight for her the way she fights for him.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, lando is a d!ck, gaslighting, communication issues, mentions of y/n

pairing: lando norris x female!reader

tag-list: @oscduck81

a/n: this may or may not be loosely inspired by a real life experience..........

THE ROOM WAS dimly lit, the soft blue glow of Lando’s sim racing setup casting shadows across the walls. The hum of his game filled the silence, the sharp sound of tires screeching on a digital track drowning out the soft, broken sobs escaping your lips.

You lay curled up on the bed, your back turned to him. Salty tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the pillow. You weren’t even sure why you were crying anymore—was it sadness? frustration? or just the aching emptiness that was growing inside you?

You knew he could hear you. He always could.

But just like every other night, he turned up the volume of his game. Hinting an unspoken message: I don’t want to hear you. I don’t want to deal with you.

And gosh, it hurts.

He always does this. He rarely talks to you despite living in the same apartment. As if there is a big wall between the two of you. As if both of you have two different worlds. His priorities had shifted, and you weren’t part of them anymore. Gaming. Racing. Nights out with friends. Work. Everything came before you. And no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you knew deep down that he just didn’t care the way he used to.

He used to act differently when your relationship started. You missed the time when it felt like his world revolved around you, when he made you feel like you were the most important thing in his life, but now you don't know when or what went wrong. You can only wonder what happened to the man you love.

Your friends are all begging you to leave.

"Wake up, Y/N!" "You deserve better." "What else is there to hold on to?"

It started to become obvious that the things Lando has been doing have been affecting you to the point that you started seeing a therapist, desperately trying to piece yourself back together.

But the worst part is that Lando never even noticed.

You knew that this was not healthy. You knew you should leave. But things are easier said than done.

The thought of walking away—of starting over, of loving someone who wasn’t him—made your stomach twist. It felt impossible, unbearable.

Despite everything, despite the pain, you still wanted to stay. You clung to the hope that one day he would wake up and realize what he was losing. That he would see you again—as someone he once loved. Someone worth fighting for.

So you stayed. Because letting go felt harder than holding on.

It’s a big day in Abu Dhabi—the moment that will decide the 2024 Formula 1 constructors' championship. McLaren almost has an even tie with Ferrari; therefore, they desperately needed Lando to win. So you take your time to self-soothe after what happened last night.

"You just don’t understand, Y/N. Why can’t you just accept the fact that I’m a busy person?" Lando exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice.

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, I’m sorry—if bar-hopping with your friends and getting all over the media with random girls counts as 'busy,' then I must be such an idiot for not taking the hint!"

His jaw tightened. "Those pictures are from a long time ago," he muttered.

"Oh, really?" you said amusingly while scoffing.

Silence stretched between you before you finally snapped. "All I ever wanted was for you to notice me! To talk to me! Hell, to actually see me! Is that really too much to ask?"

Lando ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I don’t understand, Y/N. I’m giving you all the attention I can."

But it was never enough. It never felt like enough.

You sighed in defeat, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know you wouldn’t understand."

This morning, like every morning, you glared at him with storms in your eyes. But he didn’t notice—he never did. You wondered how numb he could be to not feel your grip on him slipping away. How could you love someone and not see them breaking right in front of you?

All you needed was his reassurance—that despite everything happening, despite the way he treated you, you were still the one he loved. But every time you brought it up, he twisted it around, making it seem like you were the problem. Every conversation turned into an argument instead of a solution, and with each fight, your resentment only grew.

One night, you needed him more than ever. After a brutal argument with your parents, they kicked you out, leaving you with nowhere to go. Lando was the only person you could turn to—the one person you thought you could rely on.

"I tried calling you. I rang your doorbell over and over and over again, but you never answered." Your voice wavered, frustration and hurt bleeding through. "So tell me, Lando—where were you that night?"

"I was sleeping!" he insisted, his tone defensive.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Sleeping? Really?" You shook your head in disbelief. "I literally saw the notification on your Twitch that you were live with Max!" Your voice cracked as anger and betrayal surged through you. "You left me outside your house for hours!"

Lando exhaled sharply. "Maybe it’s your fault for always expecting too much," he muttered under his breath, but you caught every word.

Your stomach twisted as you stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Maybe..." His voice became louder. "It’s my fault for not being enough for you," he added, his voice flat.

"Or maybe it's our fault for not making this relationship work properly."

That was your breaking point.

Lando won the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, securing McLaren’s victory in their fierce battle against Ferrari for the Constructors' Championship. You were proud—proud that your boyfriend had claimed another Grand Prix win, proud that his team had finally won. But deep down, you knew the truth: tonight, he wouldn’t be celebrating with you.

You often envied the girlfriends of other drivers—the way they rushed into their arms after a win, how they spent their victories surrounded by their girlfriends and families. But for you, it was different. You longed for that warmth.

Now, it was time to pose for the cameras, to put on a dazzling smile and make your relationship look picture-perfect—at least on the surface. In the photos, you were the devoted girlfriend, the perfect couple. But behind your fake smile, a storm raged inside you.

You had always been there for him—through his highs and lows, his victories and defeats. But when it was you who needed him, he was nowhere to be found.

And as the flashes of cameras captured the illusion of happiness, a sinking realization settled in your chest. You couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep giving all of yourself to someone who never gave anything back.

One thing was clear tonight—you were done hurting yourself for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you.

You took a taxi back to the hotel alone, your vision blurred with tears as the city lights streaked past. The moment you stepped into the room, you began packing—hands trembling, heart racing. You hadn’t planned this, but deep down, you knew it was inevitable. It wasn’t just impulsive; it was necessary.

As you zipped up your suitcase, your fingers brushed against a worn polaroid tucked between your clothes. Your favorite picture—back when love still felt easy, when he still looked at you like you were his entire world. You held it for a moment, your thumb tracing the edges, debating whether to take it with you.

But some things belonged to the past.

Flipping it over, you picked up the hotel pen and, with a heavy heart, wrote your final words.

I love you forever, Lando. I'm forever grateful. —Y/N

You placed the polaroid on the bed, letting it rest there. Then, with a deep breath, you grabbed your bags and walked to the door.

Before stepping out, you turned back for one last glance at everything you're about to leave behind. All of the memories you and Lando had, either good or bad.

Just like that, you walked out of his life, and with every step, the weight you had carried for so long finally began to lift.

[dreamsteddie]

Steve H.

Part Two, Part One

Okay, I started the last post with a "Haha wouldn't it be funny" which turned into a long, not-so-funny rant. So! Here is the funny part!

Steve is Dustin's brother and Claudia's son in all but law. He lives with them, calls Claudia mom and refers to Dustin as his brother, takes them to all his school events until he graduates and helps pay the bills after high school. Claudia never pressures him to apply to colleges he doesn't even want to get into or makes him feel like he has to move out any time soon when he turns 18, so he stays and gets a part-time job at Scoops where he bonds with Robin for life.

At the same time, drop out Eddie and his uncle Wayne move to town when the power company transfers him to the plant in Hawkins. It serves them well since Eddie needs a fresh start after getting tossed out of school without a degree for unjust reasons. He needs some place where he can make friends and get a job without his reputation hanging over his head, and Wayne would never abandon his nephew.

So they land in Hawkins and Eddie finds his feet by visiting the library and happening upon a gaggle of kids commandeering one of the reservable conference rooms for DnD. They're are a few older kids closer to his age there too, but the curly-haired one is definitely running the show.

Meanwhile, Wayne has failed to mention to his nephew that the main reason he agreed to the transfer uncontested was because he hit it off with one Claudia Henderson at a diner after a fishing trip and has been dating her without Eddie's knowledge for 8 months. He breaks the news to his Nephew when he starts making plans to propose and wants to introduce Eddie to Claudia and her sons before he does. Wayne loves Claudia but Eddie comes first and he wants to make sure they'll all make a good family.

So they go over to the Henderson household for dinner one night, Wayne having wrangled Eddie into a black button-down and jeans without holes so Claudia doesn't think he raised a ruffian.

Dustin answers the door and immediately freaks out because he's so excited. He's met Wayne before and so has Steve so he knows things are serious and there's a good chance Eddie becomes family down the line.

Yelling in excitement the whole way Dustin drags both men into the kitchen where the root of all Eddie's troubles can be found.

Steve.

He immediately starts bitching at Dustin about acceptable volumes, towel over his shoulder and hands on hips and Eddie is Gone. Sent. In the stratosphere and immediately smitten. He's lost in the clouds planning their own wedding until reality crashes back down on his head as Steve extends his hand and introduces himself as Dustin's brother.

Eddie, of course, does not know that Steve is not actually related to anyone in this family legally or otherwise and no one thinks to clue him in since they're all so accustomed to the family dynamic.

If Google had been around in the 80s Eddie's search history would be full of "Is it illegal to date my uncle's step-son? NOT RELATED BY BLOOD" "how many degrees of separation in the family tree is acceptable?"

Que Eddie desperately trying to suppress his crush and not ruin his uncle's happiness by wooing his almost step-cousin ew like he really wants to.

But it's so hard! Steve is so beautiful and kind and dorky and a little weird and basically everything Eddie could possibly want in a boyfriend! Eddie wants to bite his freckles and hold his hand so badly but he won't ruin Wayne's future marriage because he kissed his future stepson like they're characters in those soap operas Claudia likes. He won't!

And then to make matters worse Steve seems like he really wants to bond with Eddie. He's always asking him to hang out wether that's going to the mall to hang out with his best friend Robin or swapping tapes at Claudia's house or showing Eddie all his favorite spots in Hawkins. (Steve is very much dropping hints that he wants to date Eddie who he's 96% sure is into him but Eddie is too caught up to notice)

It comes to a head on the day of the engagement. Wayne enlisted all three of "his boys" to help set up a nice dinner party with their closest friends, something Claudia has always mentioned wanting to host, while Joyce invites her out for some shopping and girl time. Steve and Wayne do most of the cooking while Eddie and Dustin are on set up picking up the flowers and pulling the nice table setting down from the attic before separating to get dressed in their nice outfits.

It's like a moment from a fairytale when Steve walks down the stairs and smiles at him. He's so fucking handsome it makes Eddie's heart ache with the cold realization that he's fallen completely in love with a man he can't have. Eddie can feel a prickling behind his eyes but he brutally shoves the sensation down. Today isn't about him.

Eddie puts on a happy face. It's not hard, he is truly happy for Wayne. His uncle deserves the world and both him and Claudia looked so in love when she said yes. He just wishes it didn't have to mean never having the man of his dreams. Eddie sticks the party out and he thinks he did a pretty good job hiding his mood right up until Dustin barges into the basement where the hideaway bed lives. The plan was always for the whole new family unit to stay the night so Eddie heads down as soon as it is acceptable to fall face-first into the pillows and trash around a little bit. Maybe even scream. Sue him, he's heartbroken.

That's how Dustin finds him and he immediately starts crowing that he knew something was up with Eddie. He starts pestering in true Dustin fashion until Eddie inelegently blurts out "I'M IN LOVE WITH MY FUTURE COUSIN IN LAW!"

Dustin blinks at him for a few minutes while Eddie freaks out because he's been so good only for Dustin to bully a confession out of him the day his uncle got engaged like a jerk!

But then Dustin is literally rolling around on the floor howling with laughter and Eddie has never wanted to strangle someone and disappear at the same time in his whole life. He's about to start asking Dustin what the fuck is up when the younger boy sits up and says "He's not my real brother!" at which point it's Eddie's turn to blink at Dustin in silence.

Dustin explains that while Steve is definitely his brother in all the ways that matter he's not actually related to Dustin or Claudia, nor was he ever legally adopted.

Eddie hardly lets Dustin finish his story before he's booking it up the stairs to Steve's room with a truly unprecedented display of athleticism on his part. He franticly taps on the door, aware enough to avoid banding on it like he would like to lest he disturb the newly engaged couple down the hall.

Steve opens the door, eyes wide and slightly frantic. As soon as his eyes meet Eddie's they disappear from his eyeline because Eddie has dropped to his knees, hands clasped together, and begs "Mary me!"

Of course, they don't get engaged that night. Eddie kind of just panicked and said the first thing that came to his head, but they kissed and began to date with the full blessing of their weird little family.

[myladybelle]

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter four

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, reader wears shorts and a t-shirt, use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: patrick girlies, this chapter is for you (sorry in advance for the angst) xx 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒’ 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 – 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔. 𝟏𝟐:𝟓𝟓𝐏𝐌.

It was the perfect day for a game of tennis, and you had never seen Tashi so excited to watch a match unfold. 

“Okay seriously, you’re starting to freak me out, Sally Sunshine,” you said as you took your seats, eyebrows furrowed as you stared incredulously at your best friend.

Tashi rolled her eyes, sipping from the straw in her blue Gatorade bottle. “I’m just thrilled to see two little white boys battle it out for your phone number,” she retorted with a cheeky grin. “I mean, Patrick’s probably going to win so I guess that’s unfortunate if you like Art best, but one of them is definitely getting your number.” Happily, Tashi set her drink down and leaned back on her arms. “This is going to be a great day!”

“Alright, I think you may be enjoying this a little too much,” you admitted, trying not to laugh.

“Well I think you’re not enjoying this enough,” Tashi retorted. “These two guys are going out there today, not to win the Junior US Open for their careers, but to get you to go out with them. How many girls can say that about themselves?” Your cheeks grew hot at the implication, but you tried to wave off Tashi’s assumption.

“Who says they’ll ask me? What if whoever wins asks you?” you argued.

Tashi stared at you, unimpressed. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flat and unyielding stare that spoke volumes of her disapproval of your uncertainty. She remained silent, her unconvinced gaze conveying a clear message of criticism more effectively than words ever could. Still, she indulged you.

“That’s fucking insane, Y/I,” Tashi declared. “After everything that happened last night, I don’t know how you could ever think I’m the one they’re interested in.” She smirked. “But don’t take my word for it, let them show you on the court today. I doubt you’ll need any further convincing after that.”

Sitting at the edge of your seat, your fingers tapped restlessly against your thigh, the tension in your body reflected the tension between Art and Patrick as they came out onto the court. You were too nervous and rigid to applaud them, and each heartbeat felt like a drum in your chest as your eyes flickered between the boys. The electric anticipation in the air mingled with your personal stakes, making your breath catch with every second ticking closer to the start of the match.

It was a gorgeous day, just as Tashi had happily declared earlier; clear, blue skies with a blistering sun in the early afternoon. In the heat, you were dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a fitted red Stanford t-shirt, and your favourite white sneakers that Nike sent you for free when you attended the Junior Australian Open. You anxiously picked at the beads of the friendship bracelets on your wrist while you waited for the match to begin. 

When it did, it was your turn to be stunned by their performance.

Patrick was playing like a man possessed. 

From the first set, the match between him and Art was electric. Every stroke was more powerful and precise than any you had ever seen Patrick play in the past. The thud of the ball against the racket echoed like thunder throughout the court, and his grunts of effort punctuated the relentless rhythm of the game. His volleys snapped with a precision that left the crowd breathless, and even Tashi’s eyes darted to follow the blur of the ball with heightened interest. 

Art, drenched in sweat, scrambled helplessly across the court, barely managing to return each powerful shot. You knew he was a pretty conservative player – especially compared to Patrick’s intense, emotional playing style – but this time, he was forced into a desperate defensive stance. Patrick was quick, accurate, and relentless. Across the net, Art nearly fell over as he sprinted from one corner to the next, barely keeping up with the gruelling pace his best friend set.

“Okay, this is kind of hot,” Tashi admitted, grinning widely at you. 

“Two good-looking guys playing tennis? Yes, I see the appeal,” you joked, keeping your eyes trained on the match. “Hence the Nadal favouritism.”

Tashi snorted. “Right, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What then?”

“Don’t you get it? The real game of tennis isn’t even happening on the court,” Tashi explained to you. At that moment, Art mishit the ball and sent it soaring high in the air, giving Patrick ample time to deceive his best friend and hit a gentle between-the-legs shot, winning the point as the crowd cheered. “It’s happening right here…” she trailed off, applauding when Patrick turned to bow at you while Art stared at you dejectedly, trying to catch his breath.

Patrick took the match in straight sets.

It was the best game of tennis he had ever played, and it had the spectators begging him for more when he was finished. With the crowd, you applauded his victory, laughing when he instantly turned to find you and sent you a satisfied boyish grin. Even though Patrick had described going pro as a way to avoid having a normal job, it felt like this match meant more than that. 

Feeling overwhelmed by the crowd and the growing realisation that you had entered a game of mental tennis with these boys, you told Tashi you were going to the bathroom to excuse yourself. The nervous exhilaration of watching them play mirrored the rush you felt when you played tennis, your heart pounding and your palms sweaty. Burdened by the tension and emotional rally, you needed a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts.

“Hey,” Patrick called after you, running into the hallway with flushed cheeks and his racket in hand before you could disappear. 

You sucked in a breath, heart hammering nervously. No. He couldn’t be… could he? 

Plastering a false smile on your lips, you turned to meet his eyes. Out of breath and drenched in sweat, Patrick’s chest heaved with exhaustion. Despite his tired muscles, his eyes were alight with the fire of victory, radiating pure exhilaration and triumph. Your Stanford t-shirt – which cut off above your shorts to display a sliver of skin – revealed a hint of your bare abdomen. That was enough for Patrick to feel something stirring in his stomach, thinking of how his hands and lips had touched you the previous night.

“Hey,” you echoed, letting him hug you despite how sweaty he was. It felt oddly casual, considering how well you knew the inside of his mouth, but you tried not to dwell on it. “Congratulations on winning the Junior US Open! That was quite a match,” you complimented.

He smiled proudly. “You think so?” Knowing your attention had been on him for the last two hours had made him smug and confident. He was glad he’d played so well while you were in the audience and hoped you were impressed.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t lie to you,” you dutifully replied. Patrick believed you; you were so earnest and generous last night that he didn’t think you had it in you to placate him. “You were electric, Patrick. It was really a special game to watch. You should be proud of yourself. You were doing far more than avoiding a real job,” you added.

“Well, thanks.” Patrick eyed you, trying to figure out your expression. Your words were genuine and kind, but the thin smile on your face didn’t reflect that. You hated that he could tell you were acting weird. After knowing Patrick for exactly one night, it wasn’t fair that you were an open book to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You tilted your head, eyes widening in a way you hoped was innocent. “What do you mean?” you said in an airy voice.

“You have this look on your face that I can’t figure out,” Patrick explained. 

“Oh, that? I’m just channelling my inner Mona Lisa – always keeps people guessing,” you joked, hoping he’d brush it off and move on. It was unfortunate that you slipped into old habits when you were nervous, but Art and Patrick had rattled you the previous night, and now you didn’t know how to behave around them. “Nothing to worry about!”

His face fell. As you watched the joyful glow of victory drain from his eyes, your heart ached for him. “You’re making jokes to deflect me,” Patrick realised. “I thought we got past that last night?”

You simultaneously hated and loved that Patrick knew you were resorting to your go-to method of distracting people from your true feelings. 

“We did,” you promised, feeling guilty for trying to deceive him. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. What’s up, Pat?” The nickname flew from your lips without a second thought, allowing his mouth to curve into a grin.

“Well, I’m not sure if you remember the terms of our agreement, but it stipulates that I get to have the number of my choosing if I win. Which I did,” Patrick mused joyfully. “So, here I am, hoping to cash in my prize…”

You were hoping he wasn’t going to ask you.

Your stomach twisted into knots, and your hand reached for the friendship bracelets on your other wrist. The weight of having to reject a genuinely great guy settled over you uncomfortably, increasing your anxiety. Your heart raced with dread as you searched for the right words.

Patrick stood there with a hopeful smile, his lake-blue eyes shining with anticipation. Rather unlike the cocky Patrick you met last night, his fingers fidgeted nervously with his racket, utterly unaware of the impending rejection. His earnest expression and boyish excitement replaced his usual suave smirk, and you noticed how attractive he was with his sweaty tousled curls and prominent arm muscles.

“I think you should ask Tashi for her number,” you blurted out. Immediately, your eyes squeezed shut, and you realised how blunt that was. When you opened your eyes, you saw the startled expression on Patrick’s face. “That was awful, I’m so sorry–”

Clearing his throat, Patrick rubbed the back of his head and waved you off. “No, no, it’s okay–”

“No, it’s not,” you denied. “It’s just that I’m sort of going through a break up right now.”

Patrick opened his mouth to respond, closed it, and stared. “I didn’t realise you had a boyfriend.”

You chuckled awkwardly. “I don’t. It’s not that kind of break up,” you amended your earlier statement. “God, this is going to sound so stupid, I’m breaking up with tennis, Patrick.” 

“Oh.”

“I know that’s dumb but it’s the only way I can describe it.” You reached out, touching Patrick’s elbow and hoping the gesture comforted him. “This whole thing with giving up tournaments is really messing with me, and I just don’t think I can be with a guy whose whole life is the professional tennis world right now,” you admitted. “It’s going to be hard enough playing at Stanford. I don’t think I can put myself through that. It’s just too painful.”

Patrick nodded. “I get it.”

“I think you’re going to do great things when you go pro, Pat,” you encouraged, grinning at him and dropping your hand. “I truly mean that. But I’m not going to be able to pick up the phone and talk through the match with you. Not when I’m–”

“–Breaking up with tennis, I know what you mean,” Patrick filled the gap for you. He tried not to, but he looked crestfallen. His eyes lost their characteristic heat as he smiled sadly. “It’s okay. I understand.” It was like a shield went up, and his eyes suddenly seemed empty. “Are you sure you can’t give me your number? Just to piss off your mom?”

A surprised laugh escaped you. “What?!”

“Didn’t you say I was on her blacklist for my serve?” Patrick recalled. “I bet she’d hate it if you dated me.”

“As much as I’d love to see the look of absolute horror on her face when I tell her I’m going out with the guy with the disastrous serve, I’m still going to have to say no,” you replied. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “That’s a pity.”

“I think I’m just too sweet for you,” you revealed what you had been thinking since last night in the hotel room. “I’m not going to get in the way of whatever you and your kind-of-girlfriend have going on. Besides, you need someone strong by your side to amplify the best parts of you. And there are so many amazing parts. Tashi can be that person for you, I know she can.”

“Okay, yeah,” Patrick agreed reluctantly. He didn’t know what to say to you, especially after you had indeed been so sweet to him in your rejection. You didn’t realise Patrick liked that you were so lovely. He craved your honeyed words of affection and encouragement. But Patrick also wanted to please you, and the last thing he wanted was to be the reason for your discomfort, especially during your ‘break up’ with tennis. “I’ll go find Tashi, then,” Patrick decided.

You nodded, sighing in relief when he didn’t seem too upset. “You won’t regret it,” you maintained, and your smile was so beautiful it hurt him. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Patrick agreed. He searched your eyes intently, hoping to discover you changing your mind and giving him your number. A beat of silent contemplation later, he let it go, trying not to let the crushing disappointment hang visibly between you. “I’ll see you, Y/N.”

When Patrick turned around and left you in the hallway, you slumped against the wall, exhaling shakily. You put your hand on your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You didn’t know if you had done the right thing, but you hadn’t lied to Patrick. Even though you liked him, you didn’t think you could have a professional tennis player boyfriend right now.

Around the corner, Art was pressed against the same wall, frozen in shock at what he just overheard.

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐙-𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍. 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 – 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗. 𝟎𝟖:𝟎𝟎𝐏𝐌.

One of the many things you and Tashi always had in common was your penchant for being on time. 

You were always punctual, a habit ingrained from countless times of being let down by your mother, who never showed up for anything but tennis matches. Your awareness of the time and dedication it took to build a tennis career made you value everyone else’s time more, ensuring you never wasted a minute.

It was a shock to the system when you walked into the Ritz-Carlton and saw Tashi waiting for you by the reception desk. 

You were awestruck by how much she had changed and yet how much remained the same. With an aching heart, you tried not to list all the major life events you had missed. There was a bittersweet pang of regret for not being there to share in those moments but also a profound relief in knowing you had carved out a life for yourself that you genuinely loved. 

As you and Tashi stood face to face, the years melted away, blending past sorrows with the awkward unfamiliarity of your present selves.

She broke the silence like she always did when you were younger. “Thank you for coming,” Tashi acknowledged. Her voice was deep and firmer than you remembered.

You nodded. “You said you needed to see me. I knew it had to be important,” you replied. “I like your hair.” It was shorter and blonder than the last time you saw her, around three years ago at the French Open. 

Tashi smiled. “Thank you. You look great, by the way. I always knew we’d get older and you’d just keep getting prettier.” 

She brushed her hair behind her ear, and shiny beads caught your eyes. They widened a fraction when you realised Tashi was wearing a homemade friendship bracelet. You couldn’t tell what was spelt out on the white beads from your distance from her, but you couldn’t help the twinge in your stomach at the sight of her wearing something that used to tie you together for so many years. 

Seeing your ex-best friend wear a friendship bracelet made by someone else was like noticing the delicate thread that once tied your hearts together had been cut and replaced, leaving you with a hole where your bond used to be.

Eyes sliding down to see what you were staring at, Tashi awkwardly moved her hand behind her back. You blinked, trying to focus. 

“Oh, um, my daughter made that for me,” Tashi admitted.

That surprised you. “Really?” you said, wonder clear in your tone. “You were always too impatient to make them when we were younger. I can’t believe you taught your daughter how to make them.”

Biting her cheek, Tashi shook her head, a potently nostalgic glint shining in her eyes. “I didn’t,” she confessed. “She learned from Art.”

“Oh.” 

Talking about Art – your first love and her husband – felt surreal to both of you. It was a topic that remained unspoken for so many years, especially after your friendship ended. Now, as Tashi finally broached the subject, it felt like too much time had passed to address it. 

“It’s one of their favourite things to do together,” Tashi explained. “It’s one of the few things she does without needing a cartoon or musical playing in the background. She really enjoys it, especially when Art joins her.”

You sighed and rubbed your forehead. “I don’t want to talk about Art, Tashi.” She relented, nodding and averting her eyes. “What’s her name?” you asked. 

Tashi lifted her arm, readjusting the bracelet and letting you see the letters printed there: LILY ❤️. 

A lump formed in your throat, and your eyes stung as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Your chest tightened with the effort to maintain composure, exhaling slowly to calm your nerves. Lilies were always one of your invisible strings as friends, a sign from the universe that you were put on this earth to be Tashi Duncan’s best friend. Now, they were a reminder of your broken friendship and Art, the boy who always bought you lilies to brighten your dorm at Stanford.

Even though the thought of a little girl who was half Tashi and half Art warmed your heart, you kept your guard up. You had been stung by your ex-best friend too badly to forgive and forget over one kind gesture.

“Why am I here, Tashi?” you wondered. Even after all these years, it was odd not calling her T, the affectionate nickname you had used since you were fourteen. 

“I need your help.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only person who can fix this.”

“What are you talking about? You’re being so cryptic,” you complained. “Just tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”

Tashi inched closer. “Okay, I’m sorry. Look, why don’t we get a drink and then talk?”

“I don’t drink.” The pointed manner in which you said this wasn’t lost on Tashi, who cringed a little.

“I know. We could get tea?” Tashi offered. 

You raised an eyebrow and studied her expression. Scrutinising your ex-best friend’s desperate – yet seemingly genuine – eyes, you wondered if there was any hidden motive behind her words. After so many years apart, you were painfully aware that you would never truly know if Tashi was being honest or deceptive. It had been too long since you could tell her every thought and emotion from one glance. 

All you could do now was trust your gut and hope you weren’t walking into a trap. 

“Tea sounds fine.”

Together, you walked through the lounge and approached the bartender to ask for boiled water and tea bags. As Tashi ordered, your eyes swept the room, and your heart dropped to your stomach when you made contact with a familiar pair of lake-blue eyes. 

Patrick.

He was equally stunned to see you, doing a double take as his flirtatious smile gave way to a yearning expression. His eyes widened, and his lips parted like he couldn’t school his face and hide his true feelings.

You hadn’t seen him in a while, a very long, painful while, and you had missed him despite everything. 

A wave of panic surged through you, your heart aching with a force you hadn’t anticipated. Your pulse quickened, and your breath caught in your throat, unprepared for the flood of old emotions rushing back with such intensity. It was a confusing mix of fondness and anger, both longing for what once was and resenting the pain Patrick had caused you.

“Is everything okay? What–” Tashi caught sight of Patrick and frowned instantly. She rolled her eyes, infuriated that he had to appear now, the night you finally agreed to speak with her. “Unbelievable,” she muttered angrily. “Do you want to go up to my room?”

“W-What?” you stammered, meeting her eyes. It hurt more than you thought to wrench your gaze away from Patrick; it left you feeling empty. 

“We can take our tea up and talk there, away from prying eyes,” Tashi explained, looking at you with meaningful sympathy.

She was giving you an escape.

Well, sort of. 

“Will we be alone?�� you asked anxiously.

It was like choosing between two evils; being stuck with Patrick or Art. You didn’t know which would be more eventful or painful.

“He’s with my mom and our daughter,” Tashi assured you. “It’ll just be us.”

“Yes,” you agreed, nodding. “Let’s go to your room.“

Once the thermoses filled with boiled water came, you followed Tashi to the elevators. She pressed the button, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive so you could avoid Patrick.

Of course, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity to speak to you slip by him. “Y/N–”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tashi interrupted Patrick, crossing her arms and glaring at him. 

You and Patrick stared at each other. It hurt how good he looked after all this time. You actually liked the beard and shorter, styled hair on him. He looked more mature, and the reminder of all the time that had passed since you last saw him made your heart ache. 

Blue-green eyes flickered from you to Tashi. “I’m playing at the Challenger,” Patrick explained, trying to mask his irritation. He didn’t appreciate her interruption, and his image of her changed drastically when he found out why you stopped being friends at Stanford.

“Yeah, I know that. But you’re not staying here, are you?”

Patrick shook his head. “No. Why are you staying here? I assumed you guys would rent a villa or something.”

Tashi sighed. “Lily likes hotels.” Patrick stared at her, not recognising the name. “Our daughter.”

“Oh,” Patrick mumbled, disinterested. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, hands clenched into fists to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you like he used to. “As lovely as it is to see you again, Tashi, do you think you could give us a minute?” he wondered.

Tashi frowned, looking over Patrick’s shoulder and spotted the brunette at the bar watching him in confusion. “Are you on a fucking date?”

You shut your eyes, frustrated and overstimulated. The two of you hadn’t been together in years, but it was gut-wrenching to hear that Patrick had happily moved on after everything you went through together.

“No. Well, yeah, but it’s not–” Patrick paused to rearrange his thoughts. “I just need a place to sleep,” he confessed dejectedly.

“What? Wow.” Tashi tried not to laugh.

“Can’t all stay at the Ritz,” Patrick retorted.

“Actually, you could if you wanted to,” you snapped, finally having enough of Patrick and Tashi’s verbal acrobatics. “Your meagre financial situation is entirely self-inflicted.”

Hurt painted Patrick’s features, and it was both painful and satisfying that you were the cause of it.

“Okay, well, can you seal the deal and leave?” Tashi complained. “You’re on opposite sides of the draw. You’re not gonna play each other unless you’re both in the final.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

“No, you typically fall apart in the second round,” Tashi snarked.

You were done listening to their petty fighting. “Hey, Tashi, I’ll be there in a second,” you interjected. Even though you hadn’t seen Patrick in years, it hurt to hear Tashi berating him. He’d meant so much to you for so long, and you couldn’t listen to it any longer.

Tashi eyed you carefully, pursing her lips and nodding. “Do me a favour. Stay the fuck away from us,” she told Patrick before she walked down the hallway to give you some privacy.

You didn’t know what was worse, hearing Tashi yell at Patrick or standing alone with him.

“So, uh, how are you?” Patrick asked nervously. 

You couldn’t think of any time he’d been nervous around you, not even the day you broke up. Maybe the day he asked for your number at the Junior US Open, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

“I’m okay,” you replied. “Getting ready for the US Open and, uh, reconnecting with old friends, I guess.”

“Wow. So that’s back on then? You and Tashi?” He didn’t even try to hide his distaste.

“No, not at all. She just texted and I thought I’d see why she reached out,” you explained. “Listen, Patrick, I should let you get back to your date–”

“I know I don’t deserve your time after what I did but I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” Patrick blurted out. You paused, watching him with big eyes and waiting for him to go on. “That night? It’s the biggest regret of my life.”

“You don’t have to–”

He looked at you knowingly. “Yes I do. I shouldn’t have done it, I should never have given you that ultimatum. I was an idiot, Y/N.”

“Patrick–”

“I should never have said that you had to say yes or we had to break up. Letting you go is the biggest mistake I ever made.” Patrick glanced at the shiny floor of the hotel and shook his head in disappointment. “I should never have told you to walk away.”

You smiled sadly, trying not to cry. Your lower lip wobbled, and your hands trembled. “We weren’t ready, Pat,” you whispered.

“I think we were.”

“No, we weren’t,” you insisted. The memories of that heartbreaking day crashed over your mind like relentless waves, devastating you in an unforgiving flood of sorrow. “If the only options are to marry you or break up, then we weren’t ready.”

“I never wanted anything more,” Patrick insisted desperately. You believed him. The anguish shone in his eyes today like it did all those years ago, the longing and devotion. “And I’ve never wanted it with anyone else.” 

“I know, Pat. I know you did. But relationships can’t be all or nothing, not for me.”

With red eyes, Patrick stared at you sadly. His bottom lip quivered like he was fighting off tears. You had never seen him like this, not even the night you broke up. “I needed to be your everything, anything less hurt, Y/N,” he confessed. “It still does.”

“And that’s how I know we weren’t ready,” you declared. 

Patrick was always a paradox. 

He was complex and inspired emotions in you at a heightened level you’d never experienced before loving him. But with that came a blurred line between fantasy and reality; he was inconsistent and contradictory, and the struggle between love and torment was exhilarating and heartbreaking.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Patrick said when you were lost for words. He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and took a few steps back, not wanting to crowd or pressure you. Nodding awkwardly, he bowed his head in farewell and turned to leave the hotel.

“Pat?” you called after him, voice cracking with emotion. He stopped to listen. You had replayed that night so many times over the last eight years, fantasising about how things might have gone if you and Patrick stayed together. “If we had waited and figured things out, really talked through everything and made sure we were ready… I would have said yes if you asked me again,” you revealed.

Patrick didn’t turn around to look at you until he heard your footsteps grow quiet. You joined Tashi and stepped into the elevator with her, so Patrick risked one last look at you. When the doors shut, he reached under his shirt and pulled out the gold chain that hung from his neck, fiddling with the engagement ring he bought you nine years ago.

He hadn’t taken it off since the night he proposed to you in Atlanta, the same night you broke up.

[whirlybirbs]

— BE OKAY ; 2 ; SATORU GOJO ; 五条悟

summary: the engagement is on. you move to tokyo. pairing: satoru gojo / f!reader ; arranged marriage word count: 4k (oops) tags: taika clan reader, arranged marriage trope, jjk world building, welcome to the show ijichi, satoru gojo and his luxe shampoo, friends-to-lovers, texting as a plot device a/n: fanfic more like me crafting the most insane apartment layout based loosely on actual shinjuku rentals that are currently on the market. anyways,,, [PLAYS "GETTING TO KNOW YOU" ON MAX VOLUME] ← previous

"Train outbound for Tokyo, now boarding at platform three."

Your mother kisses your wind-chapped cheeks in the winter sun, hands you your bento, and makes you promise to call once you’ve settled in. She tugs on your scarf, and you squeeze her hand as hard as you can.

You pick a window seat so you can wave to her as the train pulls away from Kagoshima station; you hope she doesn't see the tears that begin to well as the distance between you two grows. You crane your neck to watch and wave over the back of your seat as she gets smaller and smaller and smaller. You feel like a child ushered onto the school bus for the very first time, sent off into the unknown, and torn from the safety of your mother's love.

You wind your arms around your bag as your lip wobbles; the bento, still warm, is like an anchor in your hands. 

She promised she would be okay.

You argued with her last night — like a warrior making her last stand. 

"You will be alone," you'd snapped over dinner, "What sort of daughter am I, leaving you so soon after Papa died? It's wrong. I should spend the engagement here—"

But, she wouldn't hear it. 

Your mother knew you would sacrifice everything if it meant her happiness. Your mother knew you'd put everything on halt, just as you did with your father's health. Work, friends, dating... All of it, put on the back burner to grow cold. 

You were so fiercely devoted to your family — and Chiyo Taika wondered how she became so lucky in this life. The cards were always in her favor. Even now she feels that way as she watches the train carrying her only child wind away into the distance until it's nothing but a spec on the horizon.

You grip the bento tight, lean back into your seat, and exhale tightly.

By mid-afternoon, you'll be in Tokyo.

You drop your head back against the seat and screw your eyes shut. Your tears do not fall.

All of this is happening too fast. You feel like you can hardly catch your footing. 

One second, you're shaking Satoru Gojo's hand for the first time. The next week, your mother receives a call from the Gojo Clan seeking her input on updated terms of the arrangement — which she did all while gripping your arm, a finger to her lips to urge you to be quiet, while on speaker phone. 

Sneaky.

The newly agreed-upon terms seemed straightforward enough; there was to be no dowry, and an amendment made to the timeline of... childbirth. Those changes, the man on the phone said, came from Satoru Gojo himself. From the sounds of it, the clan heir wasn't budging, and agreeing to his (no room for negotiation) terms was the only way this marriage would even take off the ground. 

And that was much farther than the clan ever got with Satoru Gojo on the topic of marriage. So, a win is a win. 

You shouldn't complain. 

The fine print meant that your mother would be brought into the fold of the Gojo Clan and looked over financially. She could stay in Kagoshima if she wished, or if she wanted to be closer to you in Tokyo, she was welcome with open arms. 

Your engagement to Satoru Gojo would last six months to a year pending the usual, official, formal announcement. If all went to plan, the wedding would be held — at the latest — this time next year.

In the meantime, Tokyo was going to become your new home.

More specifically, Satoru Gojo's three-bedroom apartment in Shinjuku Ward. 

Why he's renting out three bedrooms in Shinjuku is beyond you — I mean, we get it, you're the Heir to the Gojo Clan. But, c'mon. Isn't that a little excessive?

(You snooped. Of course, you snooped. You were laid up in bed, boring holes into your phone screen in shock. Between the two available unit layouts you saw listed for rent, they were both close to 700k yen a month. Who even has that kind of money?)

The train rattles you back to the current moment. Your phone in your back pocket buzzes.

Ijichi? Is that, like, his butler?

He would have a butler.

You hit send — and then hesitate. Is that too dry? Too formal? What if he thinks you're boring? Or... stale? 

Wincing, you send one more message before locking your phone and tucking it into the front pocket of your bag.

Satoru Gojo, as he bounds up on the steps — two at a time — of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, snorts a little at his phone. 

Cute. 

Turns out Kiyotaka Ijichi is not a butler. 

He is, however, a very good driver and a nice man, if not incredibly nervous. He helps you with your bags outside of Shinjuku Station despite your bowed attempts to dissuade his help. You don't want to be a burden — but Ijichi says that's what he's there for according to Satoru Gojo. 

"Don't let her lift a finger," Satoru said, pointing in Ijichi's face that very morning, "We've gotta make a good impression, bud. It's her first time in Tokyo!"

"Sir, I'm sorry to pry, but... who... is she again?"

"I never said," Gojo remarked cheerfully as he pulled Ijichi around the corner; then, the white-haired Jujutsu instructor leaned in close and whispered lowly, "And don't ever ask me again. Got it?"

The seriousness in his voice was enough to make Ijichi break into a cold sweat.

Truth be told, Ijichi wasn't really sure who he was expecting to pick up outside Shinjuku Station, but it certainly wasn't the pleasant young woman in his back seat making small talk with him over the weather and smiling at the sights out the back window. 

At a stop light, Ijichi adjusts the rearview mirror to get a better look at you.

...Who are you?

Don't ever ask me again. Got it?

You're leaning across the back seat, eyes wide with awe, as you take in the bustle of the city.

You're definitely not his sister. As far as Ijichi knows, Satoru is an only child. He sure acts like it. You could be a cousin from the Clan, but isn't it, like, a prerequisite to have white hair or something? And Ijichi definitely doesn't recognize you from their school yearbook. Maybe you attended the sister school in Kyoto? 

But, Satoru did say this was your first time in Tokyo.

...Who the hell are you?

"I really appreciate the ride, Mr. Ijichi," you say softly as you lift your gaze to meet him in the mirror, "I can't imagine it's very fun to drive in all this traffic, so thank you very much."

Ijichi rubs his cheek to will away the blush.

You're too nice. You have manners. 

So, there's no way you're a girlfriend of Satoru's. There's no way. Ijichi decides that's simply impossible three minutes into the ride to his boss's apartment. 

You even try to tip him after he helps you unload your bag from the back and carry it into the lobby. Ijichi shyly promises there's no need for that, and gives you his card promising that he's only a call away in case you need anything else. 

"Have a nice day, Mr. Ijichi!"

...Definitely not his girlfriend. Too nice.

The receptionist at the front desk is young and pretty, and she takes your ID to confirm you're who you say you are as you marvel at the lobby. There's art. A small fountain on the back wall. The modern touch is nice. The lobby is nice. Really nice. Definitely 700k-yen-a-month nice. 

"Here you are," the receptionist hands back your ID with a smile, then hands over the FOB to apartment 601, "Welcome home, we're happy to have you. Mr. Gojo let us know to expect your things within the next day."

The moving company was due to arrive with the handful of boxes you packed up from home tomorrow. 

Er, well, your other home. This place is home now. 

Apartment 601 is, as one could guess, on the sixth floor. It's got easterly facing windows and an open floor plan with modern appliances, one and a half baths, and three bedrooms. You know these things before even stepping inside because, like you mentioned, you snooped. 

But, that was that. It's a different thing completely to walk into that luxury apartment and see it for yourself.

There are flowers on the counter.

A big bouquet of peach roses, white buttercups, and baby's breath. 

You close the door behind you, stepping out of your boots, as you take in the entryway, the kitchen, and the adjoined living room in awed silence.

It's clean. Really clean — like, incredibly clean. 

The shoes in the entryway are aligned neatly. One pair of dress shoes and a pair of heavier-duty, black boots sit beside one another. There's a coat rack, and you recognize that suit jacket he wore to your father's funeral hanging there. 

Quietly, bag slung over your shoulder, you slink inside the kitchen. 

The back hallway leads to the other bedrooms and bathrooms, no doubt. 

This is the sort of kitchen your mother would have dreamed about. The appliances scream money — everything is either black or stainless steel, from the toaster to the espresso machine. Even his plates, dishes, and bowls look more like fine art than anything. Everything has a place in this kitchen, and it's all done tastefully. 

You eye the bouquet. 

There's a plain white card in front of it.

Your name is written in flowing script.

You pluck it up.

Welcome home. Settle in. Your bedroom is the second on the right. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call.  —Satoru

...The note is the polar opposite in tone compared to his earlier texts. It feels like whiplash. Even the handwriting doesn't seem like the Satoru Gojo you've come to understand, three degrees removed.

Either way, it's sweet. Even if he definitely had someone deliver these and write the accompanied note.

You thumb the card as you begin slowly creeping through the rest of the apartment with a wandering curiosity.

The large floor-to-ceiling windows allow for a lot of natural light in the living room and kitchen. The sectional is leather, and there's a large (definitely decorative) book on the coffee table about feng shui. The art on the walls is mostly traditional, sticking to the grey and black color scheme of the entire apartment. 

You poke your nose through the small floating bookshelf beneath the television. The books — ranging from translated classics to non-fiction — look largely untouched but free from even a spec of dust. 

Whoever styled this apartment was really into mid-century modern. Something tells you it was not Satoru Gojo.

Why?

Well, his bedroom for starters.

You're being nosey. You know you're being nosey, but c'mon. This is your home now — and you're telling me you wouldn't poke your head in, at least, to see what your future husband's bedroom looks like?

The answer is: much less put together than the rest of the apartment.

Like a puzzle, you're beginning to get it. Satoru Gojo pays for a cleaning service — and a good one at that. 

But, his bedroom lacks the sterile, clean, modern touch that the rest of the apartment does. There are wrinkled photos taped to the far wall above a disorganized desk. His closet is open, displaying an array of shoddily hung dress shirts and slacks. The lampshade beside his bed is lopsided. His bed sheets are patterned — striped blue and white, and his pillowcases don't match. There's a worn and faded bear, once white and now a loved cream, half tucked beneath his pillow. The sun's late afternoon rays are warm against the carpet, casting shadows across a lone dress sock at the foot of the bed.

Something about all of it is endearing.

Quietly, you shut the door.

Your room is more like the rest of the apartment — with crisply tucked edges on a queen-sized bed with pristine white sheets. You place that little card down on your bedside table as you shrug off your backpack. 

You packed the essentials. A few changes of clothes, skincare, and some makeup all tumble onto the bed as you begin the slow process of putting things away. It feels a lot like killing time. After all, according to Satoru's text, he would be home later in the evening.

You have no idea what time that really means, but you hope it's enough time to at least let you shower away the travel day. 

You hesitate, though, over the threshold of your room. 

His response is nearly immediate.

And rapid.

You snort. The blue heart is cute.

Scoffing a little at the wifey comment, you bundle your change of clothes and toiletry bag into your arms and shake your head.

The bathroom — the full bath between you and Satoru's room — is just as swanky as the rest of the apartment. You lock the sliding door behind you.

Black tile, a waterfall shower, bamboo wood accents, and hand soap that you can't pronounce. It's French. 

You take your time in that shower.

I mean, how could you not? 

All of this is really putting the Taika Clan to shame — it's not even like you grew up destitute, but this level of wealth? 

Your shampoo is off-brand. Meanwhile, the shampoo in Satoru Gojo's shower (that, yea, of course, you use because... something, something, what is yours is mine in marriage? Right?) is in a fancy bottle that takes you far too long to figure out how to open. 

You almost drop it, and swear your soul almost leaves your body.

The conditioner is just as nice.

By the time you're done, the bathroom is thick with steam and you're bundling up in one of the handful of towels folded beneath the sink. They're black and soft and you laugh a little at the sight of a single, white hair clinging to the one you snag.

It's the first indicator Satoru Gojo was even here, aside from his room, of course. 

There's a corner tub and the toilet has a bidet and the medicine cabinet above the double sink is stocked with more products you can't pronounce. You chew your lip, pushing your wet hair aside as you poke your nose inside. You yank the cap off what you assume is shaving cream and sniff — it's sandalwood and musk. It's nice. You hum in soft agreeance (he's got good taste) as you eye the label, and then carefully put it back. 

There's some sporty deodorant, an old tube of emergency acne cream, an electric toothbrush... and beside it, another toothbrush. Same model. 

You squint.

Two toothbrushes, huh? 

You make a mental note about it — maybe it's an exes? Too sentimental to let it go? You get it, you've been there.

You close the medicine cabinet after your continued snooping, wipe away the condensation on the mirror, and begin to sort yourself out. 

You're finally landing on the couch — hair wet, body clean and face dewy — by the time six rolls around. Now, in the dark of the apartment, the fact this place is going to be your new home starts to set in. You bury yourself a little deeper into your sweatshirt and decide you'll text your mother. You'll let her know that you've settled in and—

"Ooooh, honey!"

The door is jingling unlocked.

A slight wave of panic washes over you — like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't. And then, you remember you live here now and—

"—I'm home!"

You poke your head up over the edge of the couch to see Satoru Gojo cross the threshold of his entryway. His eyes already seem to know where to look for you. That blindfold is still on, but you swear you can feel his gaze.

At the sight of you, his posture tightens a little.

His lips break into a smile that is disarmingly handsome. It’s enough to wind you, and you feel a little bit like floating, but you push all that away. 

You’ve thought a lot about how this moment would go. You've laid in your old bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to script it in your head until the wee morning. You wondered if it would be painfully awkward, or tense, or cold. 

How do you go from being complete strangers to newly engaged lovers?

"Welcome home," is the best you can offer as you sit up a little straighter.

Satoru throws his arms open and his grin goes a little lopsided. The bag of takeout in his arms dangles dangerously as he does a little spin. 

You catch yourself fighting the urge to check him out.

“Sooooo?” he croons, “What do you think? Nice, right?”

Slowly, your smile begins. It’s clear he’s trying to dissuade any awkward tension. You watch him cross into the kitchen as you stand, bare feet padding across the hardwood as you knit your arms around yourself. 

"It's... really nice," you say quietly as Satoru plops the takeout beside the bouquet, "The flowers were a sweet touch."

Satoru throws you a grin over his shoulder as he gathers two sets of chopsticks for you both. He knocks the drawer shut with his hip as he throws a thumb to the roses.

“Hey, can’t have my fiancée thinkin’ I don’t appreciate her,” Satoru chirps as he brushes past you; you catch a glimpse of the button pinning his jacket shut. A Sorcerer’s pin, “How was your travel day? Did Ijichi give you any trouble?”

He grabs the bag of takeout and takes it with him.

He moves to flop lazily onto the couch. His feet immediately land on the coffee table. His socks are patterned. There are cats drawn as sushi on them. 

That word — fiancée — doesn’t feel real. 

None of this does, frankly. 

He begins unbagging the meal on his lap, delicately holding out your order of tonkatsu in one hand as you follow his lead and land beside him on the couch. The box is warm on your thighs. Satoru is already cracking open his order of udon.

You watch him slurp up a huge bite of noodles as you slowly crack open the plastic lid to your dinner.

"You know, I thought he was your butler."

Satoru pauses mid-chew as if he didn't hear you, then breaks into a grin that transcends his full mouth. "I don't have a butler."

"Well," you dig a piece of tonkatsu out and take a small bite, "I didn't know who he was. He was nice, though. Great driver."

“My coworker,” Satoru leans his head back and grins up at you, though there’s no telling where he’s looking with the blindfold, “A real stick in the mud, sometimes. Totally doesn't think he's good at his job, but — and don't tell him I said this — he's pretty great."

"Does he teach?" you ask, taking another bite; the food is really good.

Satoru's expression, as much as you can see it, seems to brighten. "Ooh, so you know I'm a teacher, huh?"

"It's, like, the one thing I know about you," you concede quickly.

"Okay, okay, now you've got me curious," Gojo finishes his bite before throwing his arm across the pack of the couch and gesticulating at you with his chopsticks, "What else do you know about me, huh?

You take another bite and chew slowly. You don't speak until you've swallowed — only to drag him along. It works. His attention is so heavy it feels like a physical weight on your chest.

"You're thirty," you tap your finger as you count off the things you know, "We have the same birthday. You're an only child. You've got that whole Limitless thing going for you — cool, by the way. Uh, hm. What else..."

"Wow," Satoru mumbles, "They really kept you in the dark about me, huh?"

"In all fairness," you smirk, "Someone really dragged this whole thing out."

"Parents didn't want you getting your hopes up?" he smirks.

"Eh," you shrug in mild disagreement, "I think it was more that they didn't want to make assumptions about you."

For some reason, that hits Satoru right in the heart.

He's quiet for a beat, and you wince internally. 

"Sorry, was that—?"

"No," he waves you off with his chopsticks, "No, it's cool. Just not used to... that, I guess."

You hum, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you push your tonkatsu around.

"...What would you have wanted me to know?" you ask him after a beat, lifting your chin, "Like, what makes Satoru Gojo Satoru Gojo?"

He's not really used to being asked about himself.

Actually, he can't remember the last time anyone even asked him something like that. Maybe on one of those shit dateshe went on last year when he told himself he'd actually give dating a try? But, even then, his answers weren't honest. 

The last person he was ever really honest with was Suguru.

"You first," he deflects easily as he scoops up another heaping bite, "You liked the flowers, so roses, check. And tonkatsu, check."

You smirk.

"Also an only child—" you begin.

"And thirty—"

"—And thirty," you confirm as you take another bite; your posture is loosening up, "Uh, not a trained sorcerer — might as well get that out of the way early."

Satoru almost chokes.

He blinks beneath his blindfold as he snatches a napkin and coughs. 

You quietly rock a little. 

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Now hold on—"

"—I was educated privately but—"

"You didn't attend a Jujutsu technical school?" Gojo gawks, sitting up straight; he drops his food to the coffee table and turns to face you. There's a flare of disbelief coursing through him. 

You shake your head.

And then Satoru throws both hands up to stop you before you can speak.

"Then how the hell did you know how to cancel out my Infinity?"

You blink.

Your brows raise and you gesture in the air as if to say 'go on'.

Satoru can hardly believe this.

"You didn't know that you did that—?"

"Did what?" you ask, leaning forward and forgetting about your meal, "When? Now?"

"No, not now," Satoru exasperates, "At the funeral service. When you shook my hand."

"...Right," you squint, "I... shook your hand... and...?"

"You canceled my technique," he stresses, "Limitless. Y'know, the Limitless."

"Oh!" you brighten — and Satoru can see you suddenly get it. You sit up a little straighter, then move to place your dinner on the coffee table; your smile is proud, "That's my technique!"

Well, what the hell.

"You couldn't tell?"

"It's not like I can use the techniques I disrupt," you chide just as you've been chided before by your trainers and instructors, "Void Hand stops at that. I can void a technique upon touch. Sometimes it... just happens." 

"Because your control isn't refined, because someone didn't attend a Jujutsu technical school," Satoru says tightly; suddenly, he sounds like a teacher, "Every technique has a reserve. There is no exception to that rule."

You blink.

"No way," you laugh incredulously, shaking your head, "The technique has been around for generations — if it had a reversal, I would know. My Clan would know—"

"Clans know a lot they don't share with the class," Satoru cuts and narrows his eyes as he leans back and crosses his long legs, "Trust me on that."

The silence that stretches between the two of you is long. Satoru can see the thoughts racing by as your eyes bounce around, spaced out. 

So, he leans over, pats your knee, and grins.

"Guess we got our work cut out for us, huh, wifey?"

You don't argue with him.

[starsinthesky5]

what was the team like when they found out Joe was dating songbird?

in celebration of our two favs getting extended and family staying together <3

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh, they were shocked. not because they doubted joe’s ability to pull—let’s be real, of course he could, and everyone knew that—but because he was private. painfully private. joe wasn’t the type to be out and about with just anyone, let alone dating someone like her. seriously dating her. not after everything that happened with his last relationship.

so when they found out who she was? yeah, it was like their brains short-circuited.

“nah, no way,” ja’marr had said, staring at the photo in utter disbelief—the one joe had sent ja’marr of him and her on their little backyard date last night. “our joe? this joe?” he jabbed a finger toward the quarterback, who sat unbothered, scrolling through his phone.

tee let out a low whistle. “man, i gotta give it to you,” he said, shaking his head. “when you do something, you really do it,”.

joe just shrugged, all nonchalant, like it wasn’t the biggest flex of the decade. “yeah, i guess,”.

oh, that smug little..god damnit joe. 

cue immediate chaos.

some of them were just in disbelief. others were immediately on google, scrolling through pictures, looking her up like they hadn’t just heard her on the radio that morning. and then there were the ones who instantly started grilling him.

“how’d you even meet her?”

“who made the first move?”

“you sure she likes you?” (that one earned a glare.)

“bro, do you know how many people have been obsessed with her since, like, forever?”

and then there were the guys who suddenly became self-proclaimed fans, acting like they had been day ones just because their QB was now dating her. andrei had her music playing in the locker room the next day. mike tried to casually bring up one of her old albums in a conversation. one of his other teammates asked him if he could get him and his girlfriend concert tickets for her next tour, to which joe just gave them a blank stare before walking away.

but the teasing? that was relentless. anytime she was mentioned, joe got looks. anytime one of her songs played, someone turned the volume up. if they caught joe smiling at his phone for a little longer than normal, they teased the fuck out of him. 

like the time ja’marr caught him watching a video she sent him during film.

“yo, joe, you good over there?” ja’marr called out, smirking like he’d caught joe red-handed.

joe didn’t even look up. “yeah, why?”.

“’cause you cheesin’ at your phone like it just told you you won the lottery,” tee chimed in.

ja’marr leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse. “bet it’s a video from Y/N in LA. let me see,”.

joe locked his phone immediately. “mind your business,”. 

“uh-huh,” ja’marr laughed, turning to the rest of the guys. “man’s whipped,”.

or when one of her songs played in the locker room and everybody turned to look at him.

sam hovered over the speaker, scrolling through the playlist with an innocent look. “huh. how’d this get on here?”.

“crazy coincidence, right joe?” trey chuckled, turning the volume up.

joe just shook his head as her voice rang through the room, completely unfazed. “you guys are so childish,”.

“nah, we just love supporting our QB’s girl,” ja’marr grinned. “in fact, we should start requesting this at the stadium. make it his walkout song,”.

and then there was the time they were out at dinner and joe, for once, wasn’t on his phone—until it vibrated, and he checked it immediately.

“aw, man,” tee dragged, shaking his head. “joe’s got that smirk again,”.

ja’marr leaned in. “she text you?”.

joe ignored them, typing out his response to you without hesitation.

“what you tell her? ‘i miss you soooo much, baby’?” ja’marr teased in a dramatic voice.

“‘can’t sleep without you, my love,’” tee added with a mock pout.

joe didn’t even flinch. “y’all got jokes, but i do sleep better when she’s with me,”.

“jesus christ.” ja’marr groaned. “he owns being down bad. we lost him, man,”.

but as much as they teased, it was all love. because they had never seen joe like this before—and they wouldn’t trade it for anything. it was how she softened the hard edges, brought out a side of him they didn’t always get to see. and that was enough for them. 

still, that didn’t mean they were ever gonna let him live it down.

—

her first time meeting ja’marr & tee: 

joe had been keeping her under wraps from the guys for a while—not because he was hiding her, but because he knew exactly how this was going to go. ja’marr and tee weren’t just his best friends; they were menaces. the second they met her, it was over for him. the teasing would be relentless, and he’d never hear the end of it.

but he also knew he couldn’t avoid it forever—especially with how they constantly pressed him for details, side-eyeing him anytime he got that little smile on his face while looking at his phone.

so, he finally took the bullet and set up a dinner. nothing crazy, just a nice, lowkey spot with a private booth—somewhere comfortable, somewhere she wouldn’t feel like she was on display.

she was calm, cool, collected. joe? not so much.

“they’re gonna love you,” he assured her in the car, his palm resting on her thigh, thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against the soft fabric of her dress.

she smiled, squeezing his hand. “yeah? you seem real confident about that,”.

he let out a breath, shaking his head. “well i am, but they’re going to give me so much shit in front of her. i’m not confident that i’m making it out alive,” he thought to himself.

and the moment they walked into the restaurant, it started.

ja’marr and tee were already waiting at the table, leaning back in their seats, mid-conversation. but the second they spotted joe, they didn’t even look at him. instead, their attention snapped straight to her.

ja’marr was on his feet first, grinning. “so this is the infamous girlfriend,” he said, immediately pulling her into a hug like they were old friends.

tee followed, just as eager, shaking his head as he pulled her in next. “we were starting to think he made you up,”.

she laughed, completely at ease like she had known these two for her entire life. “i promise, he didn’t,”.

joe sighed, shaking his head as they all sat down and ordered drinks. and just as he feared, from the moment the conversation started, it was like she had always been part of the group. which meant telling all the embarrassing stories about joe without any restraint or hesitations. 

his worst nightmare. 

they were cracking jokes, roasting him mercilessly, and she was holding her own like a pro.

“you do know you’re dating the most boring dude ever, right?” ja’marr teased, smirking at her over his drink.

she hummed, pretending to consider it. “hmm. i don’t know. he keeps me pretty entertained,”.

tee snorted. “that’s just ‘cause you haven’t seen how routine he is yet,”.

“oh, i know all about the 8:30 bedtime and the meal preps,” she grinned, nudging joe with her knee under the table.

ja’marr burst out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. “nahhh…not the bedtime. man, you don’t even stay up for her?”.

joe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, but it didn’t hide the telltale blush creeping up his neck. “stop being annoying for like two seconds, damn,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“oh, we’re annoying?” ja’marr raised a brow. “this you?” he held up his phone, scrolling through what had to be old texts of joe constantly asking ja’marr to play iMessage chess with him, then grinned sheepishly like he had remembered something else to tease joe with. “bro, tell me why when we were at LSU, this man literally said he wasn’t dating anyone ‘cause football was his only priority,”.

tee wheezed, “ain’t no way. ain’t no way,”.

ja’marr leaned in, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “and now look at him. sittin’ here, all cuddled up next to his girl, lookin’ like a whole simp,”.

“a happy simp,” tee corrected, raising his glass in joe’s direction.

she just smiled, glancing at joe, taking in the way his face was so red. she reached for his hand under the table, squeezing gently, and he glanced at her with soft eyes, squeezing back. “he’s still focused on football,” she said, tone teasing. “he just has better, more special priorities now,”.

ja’marr and tee howled, and joe—defeated—just leaned back, shaking his head, but there was no missing the small, bashful smile tugging at his lips.

the moment that really sealed it? when she excused herself to the restroom.

joe had been relaxed the whole night, at least as much as he could be with his two best friends taking every opportunity to roast him. but as soon as she got up and disappeared down the hall, he felt the shift immediately. ja’marr and tee moved like they were in sync, both leaning in across the table, elbows propped up as they fixed their eyes on him like interrogators closing in on a suspect. “okay,” ja’marr started, nodding. “we like her,”.

“nah,” tee interjected, shaking his head. “we love her.”

joe huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. “yeah?”.

“hell yeah,” ja’marr said, leaning back in his seat. “she’s cool as fuck. holds her own, dishes it back—,” he gestured toward joe, smirking, “—and she got your ass blushin’ like a lil’ schoolboy,”.

“real talk, though,” tee added, a little more serious now, “she’s good for you. i can tell,”.

ja’marr nodded, nudging joe’s arm. “yeah. like, we joke about you bein’ boring, but i ain’t never seen you like this, bro. you just look…happy,”.

joe exhaled, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, but the small smile tugging at his lips was impossible to hide.

“i am happy,” he admitted, fingers tracing the condensation on his glass. his voice dropped, softer now. “really happy,”. he wasn’t usually one to talk about his feelings like this—especially so candidly with these two, who’d take any opportunity to turn it into a joke—but right now, he didn’t care. because the truth was impossible to deny.

tee grinned, nudging ja’marr. “man, you hear that? our boy’s whippeddddd,”.

“oh, big time,” ja’marr agreed, grinning. “gon’ have to start callin’ him ‘lover boy joe’,”.

joe groaned, dropping his head back. “and here you guys go again,”.

“nah, bro, we’re just proud of you,” ja’marr said, smirking. “for finally growing some balls and settling down,”

joe rolled his eyes, flipping him off, but tee just laughed. “for real, though,” tee said. “she’s the one, huh? we can see it in your eyes. you ain’t ever look at a girl the way you be looking at her…,”.

joe glanced toward the hallway where she’d disappeared, that soft, faraway look creeping back into his expression.

he didn’t hesitate.

“yeah,” he murmured. “she is,”.

[stylesispunk]

'I love you, it's ruining my life' | Part iv.

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter

Summary: You and Joel have your happy ending. w.c: 6,7k>

warnings: smut (sorry I'm not the best at writing smut), fluff, angst. time jump. Perhaps grammar mistakes because I didn't check grammar. Not the best piece of writing but now my mind is wandering on another story.

a/n: Part 4 and last one is here! Thank you so much for all the love you gave to this one, I'm really happy you loved it despite the messy writing. I may write for these two to clarify some things, or some details of their lives after this ending. If you have a suggestion, question, or want to talk to me, you can come to my dms or ask! Happy reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this right," he said softly, his thumbs gently caressing your cheek.

You nodded, a tear escaping down your cheek as you smiled up at him. "I believe you, Joel. And I want to try too. I want us to be together.

He pulled you into another embrace, his arms wrapping around you securely. "We will," he whispered into your hair. "We'll take it one day at a time, but we'll do it together."

For a while, you simply held each other, finding solace in the closeness. Eventually, you led Joel to the couch, where you both sat down, still reluctant to let go.

"I've missed you so much," you admitted, leaning to kiss his cheek. "Every day felt incomplete without you."

"I missed you too," he replied, his voice tender. "Every day I thought about you, regretting the decisions I made that pushed you away." Joel smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart swell. "Agreed," he said. "We'll make it right this time." He said, capturing your lips with a feverish kiss.

As Joel's lips met yours in a feverish kiss, a rush of emotions swept over you. It was a kiss filled with longing, passion, and the promise of a new beginning. In that moment, all the pain and heartache of the past seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth and intensity of Joel's love.

You melted into the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours and the taste of his love filling your senses. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, conveying a silent vow to make things right and to never let go of each other again.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed with emotion, you looked into Joel's eyes and saw a reflection of your own feelings mirrored back at you. He clutched your hips and pushed you against the door, shutting your mouth with his own for a hungrier kiss as if he wanted to devour you right here. Your fingers tangled into his dark locks, and he seemed to enjoy it because he released a heavy groan into your mouth, and you drank all those heavenly sounds with pleasure.

“I’m just gonna eat you,” he said, laughing, biting your bottom lip as you laughed lowly.

“That’s what I’m waiting for” you replied.

Both of you were out of breath as he cupped your face and brushed his thumbs against your cheeks like he was the most delicate thing he’d ever held.

Everything happened so quickly that neither of you realized how you'd gotten rid of your clothes, but you missed each other too much to even consider how this might have happened. He held you up against the wall, both of your legs wrapped around his waist so he could thrust fast into you while biting onto your collarbone. you were now moaning. Your head tossed back, and your nails left clear lines of red on his bare back, but this only fueled him, allowing him to pound his hips with greater urgency.

His hands were strong, but his touch was gentle. It was all over you including her face, chest, heart, and mind fantasies.

He was everywhere. You were battling to breathe while simultaneously feeling extremely lively. His fingertips touched your hot flesh, grazing with flames. Even as you burned, you clung to him like he was your lifeline.

He grasped your waist and continued to rock into you. The sound of your name slipped through his lips, mingled in with the groans and nasty words that made your cheeks flush and your eyes roll in delight. But in between the passion and filth, he expressed how much he loved and missed you.

You tried not to pay attention to those words as you tossed your head back, gasping for air, feeling your climax grow so close that your body began shaking against his. Your thoughts quickly went blank, and your toes curled as you shouted out his name, feeling his release not long after you ended. His thrust became sluggish and slow. It wasn't until he stopped that you fell back into reality.

He kissed the corner of your lips tenderly once you both had regained your breathing pace. He opened his eyes to yours. The gentleness of those brown eyes left a lump in your throat as he walked you over to your bedroom to lay you down on your bed.

“I love you so fucking much.”

Those words came again. He sounded out of breath when he spoke, and the raspiness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“I love you,” he mumbled again, this time crashing his lips with yours for what felt like a thousandth time. You then lifted your leg to his hips as you reached down to take him in your palm, and that sudden movement made his breath hitch.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, as if it could serve as a reminder that you were now each other's half.

He began caressing your breasts while inhaling fiercely into your exposed shoulder, dragging his hands down your hips to your stomach. You scorched your back, moaning his name, and he felt like he was going insane at the sight of you under his gaze, like this. His body between your legs offered him easier access to the image he wanted to keep in his thoughts every day.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his finger go down your body to the spot you wanted him the most. You were soaked, and he lost control of the sensation of you gripping around his digits. He attached your lips, groaning into the kiss, and began pumping his fingers, gradually increasing the pace as well. You had your hand behind his neck, panting for air but maintaining eye contact, watching him go insane at the sight of you.

"Joel, I…"

"I know baby… I know…" He breathed into your mouth and pulled out his fingers, causing you to gasp at the loss of his touch. In a short second, he managed to go down and kiss every single inch of kissing every inch of your body, till he reached your tights and placed his tongue on your core. You moaned loudly, arching your back and slowly moving your hips into Joel's tongue.

The bedroom swiftly became crowded with your moans and Joel's tongue lapping at your drenched pussy. He groaned beneath you.

Your fingers grasped his hair locks

"Good girl," he replied.

"Fuck! I'm.." You stuttered. He accelerated his rhythm and sucked as if it were his favorite thing in the world.

Soon after, you came. He licked you clean before slowly licking his way back up your body. Until your lips met in a wet kiss.

"You're my favorite person," he replied, a satisfied smile falling off his lips. He lay next to you in bed, and you both glanced at each other.

"Let's do it again sometime?" You made a joke.

"Why not now?" He asked.

You let him kiss you again, and your hands traveled to his neck once again.

Waking up next to Joel felt strange, not for the wrong reasons or the rust that had grown between you after a year of no communication, but because this time you allowed yourself to be his. The vulnerability was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The smell of his cologne lingered on your pillow, a comforting reminder of his presence. You reached out to touch the space where he had been, but the warmth was fading. Fear crept within your body, a gnawing anxiety that whispered, "What if he regretted and left?"

Your heart pounded as you sat up, scanning the room for any sign of him. Panic began to settle in until you heard the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen. You slid out of bed, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you as you made your way towards the sound.

In the kitchen, Joel stood by the stove, his back to you, humming softly as he cooked breakfast. Relief washed over you, bringing tears to your eyes. He hadn’t left.

There he was, only in a pair of jeans, in the middle of your kitchen, preparing breakfast for the both of you.

He turned, a smile breaking across his face, when he saw you. "Morning, baby," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "I thought I’d make us some breakfast."

You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and resting your cheek against his back. "I was scared you’d gone," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel turned in your arms, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I’m not going anywhere," he said firmly, tilting your chin up to look into your eyes. "I’m here”

Do you think I am a bad person?" You asked, your voice muffled as you hid your face against his neck.

Joel's body stiffened, and he gently pulled back to scan your face, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Wha—oh my god, what are you talking about?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions swirling inside you. "I mean, we both did things. Tess, my boyfriend...”

Joel shook his head, his grip on you tightening. "You did nothing wrong," he interrupted firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. "We were both trying to navigate a difficult situation, and we made mistakes, but that doesn't make you a bad person."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, his unwavering support and love bringing a sense of relief you hadn't felt in a long time. "I just... I feel so guilty," you admitted, your voice cracking. "For hurting others, for leaving you without a proper goodbye.” You paused for a moment. “I wasted a whole year, Joel.”

Joel’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled you into a tighter embrace. “You didn’t waste anything,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “We both needed that time to understand what we truly wanted and to realize how much we meant to each other. That year apart was hard, but it brought us here to this moment.”

You sniffled, burying your face in his shoulder. “But it hurts knowing I left like that. I should have stayed and fought for us.”

He gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. We both made mistakes. But what matters now is that we’re here, together, and we have the chance to make things right. We can’t change the past, but we can shape our future.”

You nodded, the tears slowing as you felt a sense of peace wash over you. “I want that, Joel. I want to build a future with you.”

Joel smiled, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and love. “Me too,” he said softly. “And we’ll do it, one step at a time, together.”

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, sealing the promise of a new beginning. As you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath match your own.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the weight of your guilt and fear beginning to lift. “For loving me,” you said, your voice steady and free from the guilt and fear that had once plagued you.

Joel's eyes softened, and his expression filled with warmth and understanding. “Always,” he replied, his voice a gentle promise. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

You both stayed silent for a while, savoring the closeness and the unspoken bond that had grown even stronger through your trials. The sun began to rise, casting a soft, golden glow into the room, and with it, a new day began—a day filled with hope and the promise of a love that could weather any storm.

As you nestled closer to Joel, you felt his arms tighten around you protectively. “Can you go back to bed, please?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You chuckled. “Why?”

“I actually planned to bring you breakfast in bed, and you kind of ruined my surprise,” he said humorously, a playful glint in his eyes.

A warm, genuine laugh bubbled up from within you. “Oh, did I now? I guess I can pretend to be asleep,” you teased, your smile widening.

Joel grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s the spirit. Now, back under the covers, and no peeking.”

You playfully rolled your eyes but complied, snuggling back into the warm bed. “I’m not peeking, promise,” you called out, feigning a yawn for good measure.

Joel kissed your forehead before slipping out of the room. You lay there, a smile lingering on your lips, feeling a sense of joy and contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time.

A short while later, you heard the sounds of clinking dishes, the faint aroma of coffee, and something delicious wafting from the kitchen. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter for both of you.

Finally, you felt the bed dip slightly as Joel returned, a tray in his hands. “Breakfast is served,” he announced softly.

You opened your eyes to see him setting a tray laden with pancakes, fresh fruit, and coffee on the bed. Your heart swelled with affection as you took in the sight.

“This looks amazing, Joel,” you said, reaching for his hand.

He sat down beside you, a contented smile on his face. “This is only the first breakfast of the million I’ll give to you.”

Three years later, Joel and you were happily married, living a life filled with love, laughter, and countless shared memories. On the morning of Joel's 35th birthday, he woke up around 5 a.m., immediately noticing your absence. The usual warmth of your presence beside him was missing, and concern tugged at his heart.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and listened. The faint sound of retching came from the bathroom. Alarmed, he quickly got out of bed and headed towards the sound. He found you kneeling in front of the toilet, your face pale and sweaty.

"Hey, what's going on?" Joel asked, his voice filled with concern as he kneeled beside you.

You looked up at him with a weak smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Happy birthday," you said softly, trying to inject some cheer into your voice despite feeling miserable.

Joel frowned, his worry deepening.

Joel’s concern didn't waver. “Then can you go back to bed and rest?” he pleaded.

You shook your head. “No, I should start getting ready for work.”

Joel's brow furrowed with worry and frustration. “Can you find a substitute?”

“Sure, at 5 a.m.,” you replied with a weak chuckle.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Please, just try to rest a little longer. We can figure out work later.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion creep over you. “Okay, I’ll lay down for a bit.”

Joel helped you to your feet and guided you back to the bed, tucking you in gently. He kissed your forehead, his worry evident but tempered by the love in his eyes. “I’ll make you some tea,” he said softly.

As you lay back down, you watched Joel move around the room, his concern for you touching your heart. Despite feeling miserable, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his unwavering support. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Joel turned to you, his eyes softening. “Anything for you,” he replied.

Later that morning, you both woke up to the sound of Sarah yelling from downstairs. “Dad! Breakfast is ready! Come on, it's your birthday!” Her voice carried a mix of excitement and impatience.

Joel stirred beside you, groaning slightly as he rubbed his eyes. “Guess we better get up,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You bolted upright, suddenly alarmed. “Oh my God, I’m late for work!” You scrambled out of bed, panic setting in as you realized how much time had passed.

Joel reached out, grabbing your arm gently. “Hey, take it easy. You’re not feeling well, remember? Just call in sick today.”

You hesitated, your mind racing with the thought of your responsibilities. But Joel's steady gaze and calming presence made you pause. “I wish I could, but I can’t; I don’t have a substitute.”

Joel sighed, understanding the weight of your responsibilities but still worried about your health. "I know it's tough, but your health is more important right now. You can't take care of others if you're not taking care of yourself."

You bit your lip, torn between your sense of duty and Joel's concern. Finally, you nodded reluctantly. "Okay, I'll call in and explain. Maybe they can find someone to cover for me."

Joel smiled, relieved. "Good. Let's go downstairs and have breakfast with Sarah first, then you can make that call."

You both got out of bed and made your way downstairs, where Sarah was already seated at the table, beaming with pride over the breakfast she had prepared.

"Happy birthday, Dad!" Sarah exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. "I made your favorite!"

The smell of pancakes and bacon filled the air, making you twist and feel nauseous. Before you even realized it, you ran towards the bathroom.

Joel's eyes widened in concern as he watched you bolt towards the bathroom. He quickly turned to Sarah, giving her a reassuring smile. "Hey, sweetie, can you wait here for a minute? I'll be right back."

Sarah nodded, her excitement dampened by worry. "Is she okay? But she loves the pancakes I make."

"She does," Joel said, trying to sound confident. "Just stay here and enjoy breakfast for now, okay?"

He hurried to the bathroom, finding you hunched over the toilet, retching. He kneeled beside you, rubbing your back soothingly. "Hey, it's okay. Just breathe."

You gasped, trying to catch your breath between bouts of nausea. "I'm sorry, Joel. I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning.”

Joel shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. "Nothing is wrong. Just rest, okay?"

After a few minutes, the nausea subsided, and you leaned back against the cool bathroom tiles, exhausted. Joel handed you a glass of water, and you took a few sips gratefully.

"I really think I wasn’t able to go to school” you admitted, your voice shaky. "But I feel so guilty."

Joel brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Don't. You need to rest and take care of yourself. I'll explain things to Sarah.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. "Okay.”

Joel helped you to your feet, and you slowly made your way back to the bedroom, where you sat on the edge of the bed while Joel returned to the kitchen to talk to Sarah.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, sitting down beside her. "Mom's not feeling well, so she needs to rest today.”

“I could stay to take care of her, you know?”

“Oh no. You’re not missing school lady”

Sarah looked a bit disappointed but nodded in understanding. "Okay, Dad. I just hope she feels better soon."

Joel smiled at her. "She will, thanks to your great breakfast. Now, finish up and get ready for school."

As Sarah ate her breakfast, the front door opened, and Tommy walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. "Morning, everyone!" he called out cheerfully. But his smile faded as he noticed the tension in the room. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Joel stood up, walking over to his brother. "Hey, Tommy, missus is not feeling well this morning."

Tommy's concern was immediate. "Is she okay? Do you need me to take Sarah to school?"

Joel shook his head. "As much as I would love to stay, we need to work Tommy “

Tommy set the groceries on the kitchen counter and turned to Sarah, giving her a warm smile. "Alright, kiddo, grab your stuff. We need to go."

Sarah beamed.

Joel watched them for a moment. He then made his way back to the bedroom, where you were lying down, looking pale but resting.

"Hey, Tommy arrived. We’re leaving” Joel said softly, sitting down beside you.

You nodded. "Okay”

Joel took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Just rest now. Call me if you need anything”

As you closed your eyes, Joel stayed by your side. A short while later, the door creaked open again, and Joel looked up to see Tommy poking his head in. "Hey, everything okay in here?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah, she's resting.”

Tommy stepped into the room; his expression serious but supportive. "Anytime. Does she need anything else? I can stick around, run errands, whatever you need."

Joel shook his head, grateful for his brother's offer. "We're good for now. Just knowing you're around is enough."

Tommy smiled. "Alright. Let’s go”

As Tommy left the room, Joel turned his attention back to you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, watching as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Joel lingered by your side for a moment, his hand gently caressing your hair. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering, "Bye, love. Get some rest." He stood up, quietly exiting the room to give you the peace and quiet you needed.

In the kitchen, Tommy was waiting, leaning against the counter. "You sure you’re, okay?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice.

Joel nodded, though he still looked worried. "Yeah, just trying to keep everything together. Let’s go.”

In the afternoon, you and Joel found yourselves at the supermarket, browsing the aisles to pick up a few things for his birthday. You had insisted you were feeling better, but Joel remained cautious, frequently reminding you to take things slow.

"How about we get some of that fancy cheese you like?" Joel suggested steering the cart towards the dairy section.

You smiled, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "Sure, that sounds great."

As you turned the corner into the produce aisle, you suddenly came face-to-face with Tess. She looked as surprised to see you as you were to see her.

Tess's eyes widened in surprise as she spotted you and Joel, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She was holding a child in her arms, and for a moment, you felt a pang of insecurity as you noticed how fondly Joel was looking at the little one.

"Hey," Tess said, her voice tinged with awkwardness. "I didn't expect to run into you guys here."

You forced a smile, trying to mask your own discomfort. "Yeah, same here. How have you been?"

"I've been good," Tess replied, her smile genuine as she glanced down at the child in her arms. "This is Max, my son."

You couldn't help but notice how Joel's expression softened as he looked at the child. It made you wonder—had you and Joel ever talked about having children? Or how you ruined his chance of having children with Tess when you decided to confess your feelings those years ago.

Tess continued, oblivious to your inner turmoil. "I have been in a relationship for 2 years now," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Things have been going really well."

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. "That's great to hear."

Joel spoke up, his voice warm, as he addressed Tess. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you."

“I see you are still pretty close friends,” she said. A hint of venom taunted you as she looked at you, then back at Joel.

Joel's expression remained composed as he reached for your hand, responding to Tess's remark. "Actually, we are married.”

Tess's eyes widened in surprise, and you could see a flash of disbelief cross her face before she quickly composed herself. "Oh, I see," she said, her tone masking any hint of her true feelings. "Congratulations."

You felt a surge of relief knowing that Joel had made it clear that you two were more than just friends. But the mention of Tess's son and her long-term relationship stirred up a mix of emotions within you.

Joel glanced at you, silently communicating his support, before turning back to Tess. "It's been good running into you, Tess. Take care."

With that, Joel steered the cart away, leaving Tess behind in the aisle. You followed silently, feeling a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling inside you. It was clear that seeing Tess and her son had brought up some unresolved feelings and questions, ones that you knew you needed to address with Joel.

The children, how could life have been if you hadn’t told Joel you loved him that night?

As you both walked back home in silence, Joel couldn't help but notice the weight of your silence. He glanced at you from time to time, concern etched in his features.

"Hey," he said softly, breaking the silence between you. "Are you okay?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and forced a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, though the tension in your voice betrayed your true feelings.

Joel stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "You don't seem fine," he said gently, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Is something wrong with you? Are you feeling nauseous"

“Are you sure?” he asked, once again.

“Yes.”

The evening was filled with laughter and chatter as friends and family gathered in your cozy living room. It was a celebration for Joel's birthday. The room was adorned with balloons, and the air was filled with the aroma of home-cooked food and the clinking of glasses.

Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time, catching up with one another, and sharing stories from years past. But amidst the joyous atmosphere, you couldn't shake the feeling of being lost in your own thoughts.

As you moved from group to group, exchanging polite smiles and engaging in light conversation, your mind kept drifting back to the conversation you had with Joel earlier that day. The mention of children had opened a floodgate of emotions, leaving you feeling uncertain and apprehensive about the future.

You tried to push aside your worries and focus on the festivities, but with each passing moment, the weight of your thoughts grew heavier. You felt like an outsider, disconnected from the joy and camaraderie that filled the room.

Amidst the laughter and merriment, you found yourself retreating into the corners of your mind, grappling with the decisions that lay ahead. Would you and Joel be able to find common ground on such a significant issue? And what would your future look like if you couldn't?

As the evening wore on, you excused yourself from the lively gathering, needing a moment alone to collect your thoughts. You slipped away to the quiet solitude of your bedroom, hoping to find clarity amidst the chaos of your mind.

As the night wore on, Joel couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Despite the lively atmosphere downstairs, a sense of unease gnawed at him, fueled by the memory of your quiet demeanor earlier in the day.

Excusing himself from the gathering, Joel made his way upstairs, a nagging worry tugging at his heart. He checked each room, calling out your name in a hushed tone, but there was no response.

Finally, he reached the bedroom and found the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open gently, he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

There, in the dim light filtering through the curtains, he spotted you sitting on the edge of the bed, your expression pensive and distant. Concern flooded Joel's heart as he approached you quietly, careful not to startle you.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and concern. "Are you okay?"

You looked up at him, your eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I'm fine," you replied, but the tightness in your voice betrayed your words.

Joel moved closer, taking a seat beside you and reaching out to gently grasp your hand. "You don't seem fine," he said gently. "Is there something on your mind?"

For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. But then, as you met Joel's gaze, you felt a sense of reassurance wash over you. You knew that no matter what you were facing, you didn't have to face it alone.

"I've just been thinking," you began, your voice wavering slightly. "About us and our future."

“Oh, please don’t tell me you want a divorce on my birthday.” He said this, lifting his hand to his chest.

You chuckled.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you reached out to cup Joel's cheek. "No, not at all," you reassured him, your voice softening. "I was just... reflecting, you know?"

Joel's expression softened; a hint of relief was evident in his eyes. "Reflecting on what?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"On everything," you replied, your gaze searching his. “I mean, we ran into Tess today, and I couldn’t help but imagine that I stopped you from having a big family.” You paused. “What if I can’t have children, or what if you don’t want to have them with me?”

Joel's expression softened further; his eyes filled with understanding as he listened to your concerns. He reached out, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Hey, listen to me," he said softly. "I understand why you're feeling this way, but I need you to know something."

You looked at him, your heart racing with anticipation of his words.

"I love you and Sarah more than anything in this world," Joel continued, his voice filled with sincerity. "And while I may have imagined a different path for us at one point, what truly matters to me is being with you, no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words washed over you, soothing your fears and uncertainties.

"I don't care about having a big family or whether we can have children," Joel said, his gaze never leaving yours. "All I care about is building a life with you.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders and a sense of peace settle over you as you realized that Joel's love for you transcended any external expectations or desires.

"I love you, Joel," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude.

"And I love you, more than you'll ever know," he replied, pulling you into a warm embrace as he cupped your face on his hands. “And if you want a baby, let’s make one right now, and I’ll send all these people away,” he leaned, kissing you softly.

"I love you too," you murmured against his lips, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

The idea of starting a family together filled you with excitement and anticipation. With Joel by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future held, knowing that together you could overcome any challenges and celebrate life's greatest joys.

With a playful grin, you leaned in to meet Joel's kiss, feeling a surge of happiness coursing through you, but the smell of alcohol on his lips made you stand up and run to the bathroom, once again to throw up.

Joel's concern was evident as he followed you to the bathroom, his brow furrowed with worry. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he kneeled beside you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the nausea subsided. "I don't know," you admitted, feeling a sense of unease settle over you. "I've been feeling off lately, and this just... I don't know what's wrong."

Joel reached out, gently rubbing your back in a soothing gesture. "Maybe you're coming down with something," he suggested, though his tone betrayed his uncertainty.

You nodded, trying to push aside the nagging suspicion that had been growing in the back of your mind. "Maybe," you agreed softly, though deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that something more significant was going on.

As Joel looked at you, concern etched into his features, he couldn't help but notice a certain glow on your face. It was subtle, but unmistakable—a radiance that seemed to emanate from deep within.

A thought began to form in Joel's mind, one that he couldn't quite shake. What if...?

His heart skipped a beat as he considered the possibility. Could you be pregnant?

The idea sent a surge of excitement coursing through him, mingled with a hint of apprehension. He knew that starting a family was something you both had talked about, but the idea of actually becoming parents was both thrilling and terrifying.

But as he looked at you, his mind flooded with images of a future filled with laughter, love, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet. And suddenly, the uncertainty faded away, replaced by a deep sense of hope and anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pushed aside his doubts and fears, focusing instead on the overwhelming love he felt for you and the possibility of a new life growing within you. He knew that whatever the future held, as long as you were by his side, he was ready to face it with open arms.

With a tender smile, Joel reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "I know this might sound crazy, but... what if you're pregnant?"

Your breath caught in your throat at Joel's words, the possibility hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you were speechless, the weight of the idea sinking in.

"Pregnant?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel nodded, his eyes searching yours for any sign of confirmation. "Yeah," he said, his voice tinged with hope. "I mean, it's just a thought, but... you've been feeling off lately, and the way you've been glowing... I don't know; it just got me thinking."

You took a moment to process his words; the reality of the situation was slowly sinking in. The idea of being pregnant fills you with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. It was something you had hoped for and dreamed about, but now that it might actually be happening, it felt almost surreal.

“Let’s go to the pharmacy.”

“What?! Now?” you asked, widening your eyes.

“Let’s buy a test; consider it a birthday present,” he said, already walking out of the bedroom, but you grabbed his wrist.

“But what if it comes negative?” You asked; fear was already creeping in.

Joel turned back to you, his expression softening with understanding. "Then we'll try again," he said, his voice gentle. "We'll keep trying until we get the result we want. But right now, let's just take the first step and see what happens."

He grabbed your face delicately. “And if you think I’m scared for what happened before... I know Sandy will protect you from above because you loved Sarah as if you were her mother, and I will not lose you, never.”

His words filled you with a sense of reassurance, and you nodded, feeling a surge of determination washed over you. "Okay," you said, your voice filled with resolve. "Let's do it."

The party was still in full swing when you and Joel returned, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Tommy spotted you both entering and quickly made his way over, a curious expression on his face.

"What's going on with you two?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

You exchanged a quick glance with Joel, the excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. "We'll tell you later," Joel replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Before Tommy could press further, you grabbed Joel's hand and gave him a knowing look. "Let's go," you whispered, your heart pounding with anticipation.

With a shared smile, you and Joel hurried upstairs, the excitement building with each step. As you reached the bedroom, Joel wasted no time in tearing open the packaging of the pregnancy test, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation.

You followed suit, your heart racing as you carefully followed the instructions on the box. With bated breath, you both waited for the results; the tension in the air was almost palpable.

And then, finally, the moment of truth arrived. As you stared down at the test in your hands, your heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Was this really happening?

You exchanged a hopeful glance with Joel, his eyes shining with anticipation. With shaking hands, you picked up the test and examined the result.

“I can’t watch,” you said, pacing back and forth.

As you paced back and forth, the tension in the room palpable, Joel reached out, gently grasping your hand to offer you reassurance. "It's going to be okay," he said softly, his voice filled with confidence. "No matter what the result is, we'll face it together."

You nodded, trying to steady your trembling hands as you continued to stare at the test in your grasp. With a deep breath, you finally mustered the courage to look at the result.

And there it was—the moment you had been waiting for—the positive sign you had hoped for. Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you looked up at Joel, your heart overflowing with emotion.

Joel's eyes lit up with joy as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I can't believe it," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "We're going to have a baby. My baby is having a baby”

Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, you melted into Joel's embrace, your heart swelling with love and gratitude. "Our baby," you whispered, your voice choked with tears of happiness. "We're going to be parents."

Joel held you close, his touch gentle yet reassuring. "I couldn't be happier," he said, his voice filled with awe and wonder. "This is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for."

As you and Joel stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the sound of knocking on the door broke the moment of quiet intimacy. You exchanged a glance with Joel, both of you momentarily lost in your own thoughts, before realizing that Tommy and Sarah must be looking for Joel to sing happy birthday.

Joel gently released you from his embrace, his eyes still filled with wonder and excitement. "I'll go get the door," he said softly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before making his way to the door.

You took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that still lingered on your cheeks as you tried to compose yourself. The news of your pregnancy still felt surreal, but the joy and happiness it brought were undeniable.

As Joel opened the door, Tommy's and Sarah's voices filled the room with cheerful birthday wishes. But their smiles faded as they took in the sight of you and Joel standing together with tears in your eyes.

"Hey, what's going on?" Tommy asked, concern etched in his voice as he glanced between you and Joel.

Joel's smile widened, unable to contain his excitement any longer. “We have some news," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We're going to have a baby."

As Joel's words hung in the air, the room seemed to hold its breath. You watched as Tommy and Sarah's expressions shifted from confusion to realization, their eyes widening with disbelief and joy.

"We're going to have a baby," Joel repeated, his voice thick with emotion as he reached out to take your hand, squeezing it tightly.

Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes as she let out a gasp of joy, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "That's incredible!"

Tommy's eyes sparkled with excitement as he pulled both of you into a tight embrace, and his voice choked with emotion. "Congratulations, you two. This is amazing news."

In that moment, surrounded by the love and support of your family, the reality of the situation hit you like a wave. You were going to be parents—a thought that filled you with a profound sense of gratitude and awe.

Loving Joel didn’t ruin your life.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you exchanged tearful hugs with Tommy and Sarah, feeling overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. This was the beginning of a new chapter in your lives, and you couldn't wait to embark on this journey together, hand in hand, with the love of your life by your side.

taglist 💌: @immywonderdefender @sarahhxx03 @powellssaturn @ifall4dilfs @harriedandharassed @skysmiller @missladym1981 @brittmb115 @guelyury @heartpascalispunk @ashleyfilm @loveisacowboyyy @southernbe @pedrolom @maryfanson @neganbestie

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 7 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sprout?” I say, looking up from my computer.

“What are we having for dinner?” Tara asks. She limps around the back of the couch with her crutches before leaning them against the coffee table and plopping down next to me.

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Thai food?”

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder, letting her eyes skim over the finance essay I’ve been working on. Because Christina Carpenter is still in London Tara’s staying with me until she comes back. At first she said it was to keep me company, but I know she’s just too scared to stay home alone since the last time she was alone she was attacked.

“Okay then, I’ll order something. Is there anything particular you want?” I ask, closing my laptop and pulling out my phone.

Tara shakes her head and grabs the remote next to me, turning on the TV.

“Alright.” I scroll through the options and choose two similar dishes and a side of spring rolls. I go to pay and order, but Tara stops me, turning down the volume of the TV and lifting her head off my shoulder.

“Wait.”

“What? Do you want something else after all? Pizza? Or sushi?”

“No, but you should order some Pad Thai,” she says, shifting nervously.

I chuckle softly, her sudden change in behavior going completely unnoticed. “You just said you didn’t care what I got you.”

I go to change her order, but she stops me by taking my phone away.

“It’s not for me,” she clarifies quietly which makes me raise my eyebrows and look at her expectantly. “It’s for Sam.”

I frown. “Sam? But she’s in Modesto?”

After giving our statements to the police and getting checked out at the hospital, Sam left immediately to pack up her life in Modesto. She promised Tara she’d return to Woodsboro for good as soon as she’d taken care of everything and I thought it would take her more than just three days to get everything in order since that’s how long she’s been gone for now, but apparently not.

“No, she called earlier while you were in the shower and said she was on her way back,” Tara clarifies, watching me nervously and waiting for my reaction.

“O-Okay,” I stammer. “So, you told her she could stop by for dinner?“

Sam and I haven’t talked about anything that happened yet. Not about Ghostface, her psychosis, or my feelings for her which Richie so graciously revealed to her, and not necessary just because we haven’t had the time to yet. No, I’m just not ready for it, but it seems like Tara thinks otherwise. Or she just doesn’t care, either way, Sam is on her way here now and a talk will be inevitable.

“Yes. . .” she says, hesitating slightly before going on. “And I may or may not have told her she could also stay with us until mom gets back.”

“What?!” I shriek, my eyes widening.

Tara shrinks in on herself, nodding, and to make matters even worse she adds, “And I also kind of told her it was your idea because she said she wouldn’t come if you didn’t want her to.“

My jaw drops and I blink in surprise, completely taken aback.

“So, just a heads up when she thanks you for inviting her, I guess,” she squeaks out, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh my God, Tara—“ I run my hand down my face and groan, “—I don’t even— Why would you—?”

“I didn’t want her to be alone,” she’s quick to defend herself. “She said she would just stay at a motel until she finds an apartment, or mom gets back and allows her to stay with us again, but I couldn’t just let her do that. After everything that’s happened she—“

“I get it.” I cut her off and drop my hand in my lap.

Of course I don’t want Sam to be alone. Not after everything that’s happened. She needs someone, she needs Tara, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m nervous to face her and that I’m upset Tara went behind my back.

“So, she can stay for a while?” she asks hesitantly which makes me sigh and nod.

“Yes, she can stay, but don’t ever pull something like that again. I mean, I love you, Sprout, but that’s just— No.”

Tara’s shoulders sag with relief and she nods adamantly. “I won’t, I promise. I wasn’t thinking when I did it. I just didn’t want her to be alone and since I’m staying with you, I figured it would be fine if she just stayed with us, too. I mean, you are best friends. . .“

“Were,” I correct, but it doesn’t faze her. She just hands me my phone back and I, now resigned to the idea, wordlessly add the Pad Thai to our order before finally paying for it and ordering it. “So, when is she going to be here?”

Tara checks her own phone for the time. “She said she’d be here in an hour fourty five minutes ago, so in about fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes. Wow, okay. This is really happening. First I don’t see her for five years, and now she’s going to be living with me.

Luckily I have a guest room she can use since Paige and Liam stay over all the time, but we’ll still be seeing a lot of each other and I don’t know how to act around her now that Ghostface is gone.

“Okay.” I take my laptop off my lap and put it on the coffee table. “I’ll get the guest room ready then.”

The first night Tara stayed with me, she slept in the guest room, but then she had a nightmare and crawled into my bed which is where she’s been sleeping with me ever since, so I’ll have to change the sheets before Sam gets here.

I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed Tara’s already slept in, but Tara was sweating quite a lot when I found her screaming and shaking in her sleep, so I’ll just go ahead and change them real quick.

“I’ll help,” Tara is quick to offer, but in the end I do all the work since she can’t stay on her feet for long without her crutches.

It is a little difficult to get everything done with only one arm, but in the end, I manage just fine and not even a minute after I’m done the doorbell rings.

“That’s Sam,” Tara says, limping out of the room. I follow her nervously, but keep my distance when she greets Sam at the front door.

The two of them share a sweet hug and exchange some mumbled pleasantries before Tara invites Sam into the apartment.

The older Carpenter sister looks around curiously and sets her bag down to take off her shoes and jacket, her eyes landing on me as soon as Tara steps out of the way.

“Hey,” she says, straightening up and tucking her hair behind her ears.

I awkwardly lift my free hand in greeting. “Hi.”

“Thanks for letting me stay with you for a couple of days,” she says, smiling a thin-lipped smile.

Tara watches us curiously, waiting for my reaction.

I don’t want to make this any weirder than it already is, so I just nod and say, “You’re welcome. The guest room is all the way down the hall to the right.“

“Thank you.” She picks up her bag again and steps further into the apartment. Her movements are uncertain and I can tell she doesn’t really know how to act, so I say, “Why don’t you go put your stuff away and freshen up a little. We’ve got Thai food on the way and Tara’s already picked out a movie.”

“Yeah, okay.” She looks like she wants to hug me, she even steps a little closer, but then she thinks better of it and turns on her heels, heading to the guest room.

I let out a shaky breath as soon as she’s out of sight and head to the kitchen, Tara following me on her crutches.

“So, what was all that about?” she asks, leaning against the counter when I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. “I mean, I know Sam was gone for five years, but the two of you weren’t acting this weird around each other three days ago. Did something happen?”

What didn’t happen? We almost died several times, I found out she was seeing visions of Billy, and after all this time, she now knows how I feel about her and she has yet to say something about it.

I have no clue how she feels about it. Does it bother her? Does it make her uncomfortable? Is that why she hasn’t talked about it yet? No, she can’t be, if she were she wouldn’t have agreed to come here, right?

“It’s. . . nothing,” I say, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

Tara raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she doesn’t push it which I’m grateful for because Sam enters the kitchen a moment later.

That was fast. . .

She’s changed out of her jeans into some sweatpants and has tied her hair into a low ponytail.

“Did you get everything sorted out in Modesto?” Tara asks and Sam nods, accepting a new bottle of water when I hand it to her.

“Quitting my job was easy and it didn’t take long to convince my landlord to let me move out before my lease ended,” she explains, slowly but surely getting more comfortable in my space. Her brown eyes take in her surroundings and when she spots an old picture of Tara, herself, and me on the fridge her face softens and her eyes find me.

She once again has an unreadable expression on her face, but before I can dwell on it, the doorbell rings.

“That’ll be our food. I’ll be right back,” I say, excusing myself and making my way out of the kitchen to the front door.

The delivery guy is around my age and he smiles when he hands me our food in a plate bag, but then his face drops and his eyes widen in realization.

“Wait, aren’t you one of the people involved in the Ghost—“

“Nope.” I hand him a five dollar bill as a tip and slam the door in his face before he can finish his sentence.

This has happened several times now. Every time I order food or go out to the convenience store around the corner, I get recognized and asked about what happened.

It’s something I could really live without because it brings back the memories of what happened, but I guess people are just curious and it’s going to take some time for them to find something new to obsess over.

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head to get rid of the memory of Richie’s lifeless body and head into the living room where Sam and Tara have already made themselves comfortable on the couch.

They’re chatting about God knows what but stop when they see me come in with the food.

“Finally!” Tara eagerly accepts her food when I hand it to her and steals one of the spring rolls before I can set them on the coffee table for everyone to share.

I smile and take a seat next to her, taking my own food out of the plastic bag before handing Sam who’s sitting on Tara’s other side her Pad Thai.

“Thank you. What do I owe you?” she asks, her eyes lighting up ever so slightly when she opens the takeout container and sees what we got her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say, waiving her off, but she’s not having it.

She frowns and sets her food down in her lap. “No, please tell me. You’re already letting me stay with you for free, the least I can do is pay for my own food.”

“It’s really no problem,” I say before gesturing at Tara. “This one’s been mooching off of me for years now, so paying for one more extra meal really isn’t going to make a difference.”

It’s true. I’ve paid for a lot of Tara’s food and whatnot over the last couple of years, but it’s does matter because my parents left me quite a bit of money when they died. My mom was an investment banker and had quite a bit saved up before she passed, so that’s where most of it came from, but I also got a bunch of money when I sold our old house.

“Hey!” Tara protests around a mouth full of food and shoves me playfully, and I just shove her back and poke her cheek.

“What? You sayin’ it isn’t true?” I teased and when she doesn’t answer I just chuckle softly and turn my attention back to Sam who’s still looking a bit torn. “Really. It’s no problem. Just eat. I’m sure you’ll find some other way to make it up to me.”

Her face softens and she finally nods, her brown eyes shining with gratitude. “Okay. . . Thanks.”

I send her a tight lipped smile and focus back on my own food, giving Tara permission to finally start the movie she picked once we’ve all settled down properly.

It’s almost three in the morning and I still can’t sleep.

We went to bed a couple of hours ago, after finishing our dinner and watching another movie, but I just can’t sleep.

I kept tossing and turning in my bed—grateful that Tara decided to sleep in the guest room with Sam tonight—until I just couldn’t take it anymore.

Now I’m sitting at the kitchen island, in the dark, with a steaming cup of tea in front of me. I was hoping it would maybe help me feel a little sleepy, but so far no luck.

I’m as wide awake as ever because my mind keeps replaying what happened three days ago at Amber’s. I can still hear the gunshots, Sam’s pained whimpering, and Richie’s gurgling when he chocked on his own blood.

So many people are dead, and all because of Richie and Amber’s fucked up dream of making a new Stab movie.

Wes and his mom’s funeral is next week and I’m planning on attending it, but I don’t know how I’m going to handle it yet. It feels like it was only yesterday that I went to my parents funeral and I just know going to theirs will bring back a whole lot of memories.

After everything that’s happened I’m just glad nothing happened to Liam and Paige. The two of them are still in San Francisco, but they texted me earlier that they’d be returning some time next week.

“Can’t sleep?”

I flinch so hard, I spill some of my tea over the back of my hand, making me hiss in pain. I look over my shoulder and exhale shakily when I see Sam standing in the doorway with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Jesus, Sam,” I whisper, wiping my hand on my pajama pants. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” She approaches slowly and hesitantly takes a seat on the high chair next to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. . .” I look at her and when our eyes meet in the darkness I drop my defenses and let my shoulders relax. “Do you—Uh— Want some tea?” I ask and when she nods I get up to make her a cup.

“So. . . Can’t sleep?” she asks again when I turn on the kettle and I sigh before answering, keeping my back turned her way.

She makes me nervous, looking all calm and cozy in my space, and the fact that she’s wearing my faded high school hockey sweater is making it even worse.

Where did she even get that?

The only explanation I can come up with is that Tara gave it to her since she’s always raiding my closet for oversized stuff.

“Yeah, you know—Nightmares. . .” I say, taking out a mug and putting a tea bag in it before filling it with hot water.

“I get it. I get them, too.” Sam smiles sadly and accepts the tea with a grateful nod when I hand it to her. Our fingers brush for a second which sends sparks up my arm and I’m quick to pull away and take a seat on my chair again.

“Right.” Of course she has nightmares, too. It’d be weird if she didn’t. After all she was the one who was being manipulated and used for this whole new-stab-movie bullshit. The rest of us just got hurt.

I can feel an awkward silence settling over us, and take a sip of tea to distract myself. Sam is playing with the string of her tea bag, glancing at me every so often as if she wants to say something.

For a couple of moments, she doesn’t, seemingly scared of how I might react, but then she seems to gather enough courage. She turns in her chair to face me and buries her hands in her lap, saying, “They’re mostly about you, you know?”

I set my tea back down and turn to face her as well, frowning. “Huh?”

“The nightmares,” she clarifies, her dark eyes searching my face for any kind of reaction. “Every time I try to sleep, I see you, covered in blood and dead. Tara, too, sometimes, but it’s mostly just you.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised, but don’t say anything because it seems like she isn’t done talking yet.

“I can’t stop thinking about the way you literally collapsed right in front of me at the hospital. There was so much blood and then at Amber’s—the blood on your face from your broken nose—I thought you’d been shot in the head for a second when I saw you lying in the living room.” Sam wipes at a stray tear without breaking eye contact. “And then you stood up to Richie for me, a-and I thought, this is it. He really is going to kill you now, but then he didn’t. He just kneed you in the stomach, but in my dreams h-he shoots you. Every. Single. Time. He shoots you right in front of me and I—“ She lets out a shaky breath, “—I just can’t bear the thought of losing you. . . Not after everything we’ve been through. Not before I can fix things between us.”

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and reach for one of her hands, taking it in mine and squeezing it gently. “You’re not going to lose me.”

She shakes her head and sniffles. “You don’t know that. Ghostface could come back, or-or you could get into another accident.”

I sigh and look away. She’s right, but the fear of what could happen shouldn’t stop us from living our lives. “I know, but the chances of either of those things happening again are slim to none, sooo you have all the time in the world to make things up to me,” I joke quietly, which makes her chuckle sadly.

I know I said I wasn’t mad anymore, but that was when I thought we were literally going to die. Now, I can’t say I’m still mad, but she does have to prove that she wants to be in my life again— that I can trust her and rely on her again.

She interlaces our fingers and lifts my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles which makes me freeze. “I will make it up to you,” she whispers, moving closer to tracing the index finger of her other hand over the bruised bridge of my broken nose and around the edges of my black eyes. Her touch is gentle and makes my skin tingle, and I instantly miss it when she lowers her hand again.

“I promise, I will make it up to you,” she says again, but this time her tone is different. There’s more conviction in her voice and she looks as serious as I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are practically boring into mine and the intensity of it all makes me look away nervously. “Listen, about what Richie said. . .”

I tense. Oh no, here it comes. . .

Why did you never say anything? How long have you felt like this? I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way about you.

I can already imagine all the things she’s going to say, but then she surprises me by going on.

“About my visions of Billy. . .” She cringes and looks away right as I look at her again. She keeps our fingers interlaced, but leans back a little as though she needs the space to think clearly.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I reassure her, seeing that it’s making her uncomfortable, but she shakes her head and looks at me again.

“No, I really do. You invited me to stay with you, so the least I can do is tell you what you’re dealing with,” she says and it almost sounds like she’s afraid of herself.

I want to tell her that I’m not dealing with anything while she’s here, but she looks like she really wants to say her part, so I stay quiet.

“I started seeing visions of Billy after I found out he was my real father,” she whispers, her grip on my hand tightening. “And it scared me so much, but I didn’t go see a therapist until years later, after I left. . . I was prescribed some antipsychotics, and for a while they worked, and I stopped seeing him, but lately they haven’t been working anymore.”

I can’t imagine how scary that must be. My aunt— my father’s sister—was bipolar before she died of cancer a couple of years ago, so I kind of know what a struggle it can be to have mental health issues, but I can’t fathom seeing visions of my dead serial killer father.

“I don’t know how to make them stop because I’m already taking some pretty hardcore pills. It’s like— I see him in the mirror, or any other reflective surface, a-and he talks to me, like an embodiment of all my intrusive thought but I- I promise you I’d never hurt you or Tara because of him. It’s just draining and— I’m sorry. . .” Her breath hitches and she disconnects her hand from mine to press the heels of her palms against her watering eyes.

She’s shaking and crying quietly, and the sight of it breaks my heart, so I get to my feet and pull her into a hug.

“Don’t apologize,” I say softly, feeling a little of my worry fade when Sam wraps her arms around my waist to hug me back. She slides off her chair to stand as well and buries her face against the side of my neck.

“I just feel so awful, you’ve got enough to deal with, the last thing you need is me dropping all this shit on you. I have no right to just come back into your life and—“

“Nu uh,” I cut her off. “What role you play in my life is up to me to decide. We’re far from being okay, but I still care about you and I want you to know that I’m here for you, got it?”

“I can’t just—“

“Got it?” I cut her off quietly, squeezing her in my arms, or well, just arm since my right one is still in the sling.

Sam sighs, but finally caves, nodding again my neck and tightening her hold on me. “I don’t deserve you. . .”

“Maybe not yet, no, because what you did really hurt me, but I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere,” I say honestly, allowing her to pull back and look up into my eyes.

My heart flips in my chest at her intense gaze, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly parted as if she’s about to say something.

Nothing comes out however and we just stand like that for a couple of moments, staring at each other and relishing in the other’s warmth.

That is until a scream makes us pull apart. My eyes widen and for a second my heart drops, but then I relax again when I realize what’s happening.

Tara.

Sam, however, looks alarmed, her eyes wide and she goes to grab a knife from the knife block on the kitchen island.

“No, wait.” I grab her wrist mid reach and pull her with me. She looks flabbergasted, probably thinking why I’m so calm, but when we get to the guest bedroom, realization seems to dawn on her and her face softens at the sight of Tara thrashing on the bed with her eyes closed.

I let go of her wrist and quickly move to Tara’s side. “Hey, Sprout, wake up, it’s me.” I grab one of her flailing arms and shake her a little. “Wake up.”

Tara whimpers in her sleep and furrows her eyebrows, so I shake her again.

“Tara!”

That snaps her out of her dream and she shoots up, clutching at her chest with wide eyes.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.” I let go of her arm and rub my hand up and down her back as Sam cautiously approaches the bed.

She takes a seat on Tara’s other side and gently takes her bandaged hand into her own.

Tara looks between us with teary eyes and closes her eyes for a moment, catching her breath.

“It all felt so real,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say quietly, sharing a sympathetic look with Sam over her head. “But it wasn’t. You’re here and you’re okay.“

Tara sniffles and opens her eyes again. She looks at me first, then at Sam before letting out a shaky breath while nodding.

“A-Are you going to be okay?” Sam asks gently, shuffling a little closer until she’s sitting next to Tara with her back resting against the headboard.

“I—“ Tara swallows thickly,”— Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just a little shaken, that’s all.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced, but accepts her answer and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to watch something, or do you want some tea?”

“Can you just stay?” Tara asks with pleading eyes, glancing at me before adding, “Both of you?”

I glance at Sam and when she nods faintly, I agree. “Of course. Move over.”

Tara shuffles to the middle of the bed and lifts the comforter so I can lie down next to her while Sam slips under the comforter on her other side.

Tara grabs Sam’s arm and wraps it around her stomach so she’s being held from behind before placing her head on my shoulder.

“Good?” I ask as soon as she’s settled and she nods with a content sigh.

Sam and I share another look over her head and when I see the care and gratitude in her eyes I send her a soft smile.

We’re going to be okay.

“What’s all this?” I ask the next morning, walking into the kitchen where Tara’s sitting at the kitchen island and Sam is standing over the stove.

Soft music is playing from a speaker and it smells delicious and when my eyes land on the stack of pancakes in front of Tara I know why.

“Sam is making pancakes!” Tara grins and plucks a blueberry from her plate into her mouth.

“I can see that.” I chuckle and take a seat next to Tara, smiling when Sam shyly slides a cup of coffee in front of me. “Thank you.”

“They’re chocolate chip,” Tara muses around a mouthful of food.

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“The pancakes,” she clarifies which makes my eyes snap to the stack of pancakes in front of her.

No. That can’t be. Surely Sam doesn’t remember such a trivial little—

“Your favorites.”

My eyes snap back up and I find Sam smiling hesitantly.

“At least, I hope they still are,” she adds, scratching her neck awkwardly.

Amazed, I nod dumbly which makes her perk up and finish plating the rest of the pancakes. She joins Tara and me at the kitchen island and hands me my own plate.

“Thanks,” I whisper, taking a careful bite of the pancakes and feeling my heart warm at the nostalgic feeling that washes over me. We used to make these pancakes all the time when she’d sleep over, and right now it’s the first time I’m having them since she left. I just couldn’t bring myself to make them without her.

Sam steals a couple glances every now and then while we eat and smiles when I finish my entire stack of pancakes in less than five minutes.

“Oh, by the way,” Tara says after a while, grabbing a stack of envelopes from the chair next to hers. “I got your mail out of the mailbox for you.”

I take a sip of coffee and take them from her with a hum, skimming my eyes over them, only mildly interested.

Most of them are ads or bills, but one catches my attention and I’m quick to open it and read it.

No way. . .

My eyes widen at what it says, and I re-read it a couple of times before Tara notices my stunned silence and asks what’s going on.

“A scout from a hockey team in Boston was at one of our recent games and now they want to sign with me,” I answer quietly, still in shock.

I never expected this. I want to play professionally one day, yes, but I was actually planning on finishing my degree first.

“What?” Tara grabs the letter from me and reads it as well with wide eyes before looking back up. “This is— This is great!”

I frown and take the letter back. “Yeah. . . I guess.”

It is great that they want me on their team, but I can’t just drop everything here and move all the way across the country to Boston. Not only because of my degree but also because of Tara, and now, Sam.

“You guess?” Tara pokes my arm, excited. “What do you mean? This is everything you ever wanted!”

I glance at Sam to find her already looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and wistfulness.

“Yeah, but—“

“But what?” Tara butts in, waving the letter for emphasis. “This is your chance to get out of here and finally do what you’ve always dreamed of. How can you have second thoughts about it?”

Again, I look at Sam, but she’s no longer looking at me. She’s pushing a piece of pancake around on her plate, seemingly lost in thought.

We both know that if I go to Boston it will be incredibly difficult to fix our friendship.

I just got her back. I can’t just leave now, but then again, Tara is right. I’ve always wanted to get out of here after my parents died.

“I can’t— I mean— The semester just started— A-And you. . . I can’t leave you alone,” I splutter. I’m so overwhelmed with feelings, I don’t know what to say.

On one hand, this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I really want to go, but on the other hand, I don’t want to leave Tara, or Sam. They need me, especially Tara, and I don’t want to leave Liam and Paige behind either.

“But I’m not alone,” Tara counters with a gentle smile and nudges Sam. “I’ve got this one back now and I’m sure you can move your classes online or something.”

“Tara—“

“She’s right.” Sam cuts in, looking up from her plate. There’s a sad smile playing on her lips, but she seems just as resolved as Tara. “You should go. This is your life we’re talking about, and it seems like it’s high time you start living it.”

My mouth snaps shut and I stare at both of them with furrowed eyebrows for a couple of moments before giving in. “Okay.”

Looks like I’ll be moving to Boston.

_______________________________________________

Hi everyone!

I know this is a bit of a filler chapter, but it had to be written to bridge the gap between the fifth and the sixth movie.

Anyway, happy holidays! ❤️

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

P.S. If you like this story I highly recommend you check out @persevereforahappyending ‘s No Man’s Land. It’s a great read.

[its-avalon-08]

Hello! I loved the seb vettel breathe baby breathe fic! can u make one where seb and y/n are dating and they gte into a really wierd silent flight. they have been super distant for two months now. y/n works as a engineer in ferrari whilst seb is in redbull. they just lost the spark. seb gives one word replies and everything is wrong. one day y/n is sobbing silently in the kitchen and seb comes running. y/n and seb confront eachother. make it majot angst happy ending. thanks!

silence is the killer (sv5)

message from anon - "Hi! Sorry can u change the kitchen to balcony? I want it to overlook the sunset and stuff. sorry for the inconvenience"

The private jet hummed with an oppressive silence. Y/N stared out the window, the clouds mimicking the turmoil in her stomach. Two months. Two excruciating months of strained conversations, stolen glances that held a universe of unspoken hurt, and a gnawing sense of distance that had grown between her and Sebastian. It felt like they were on a high-speed train hurtling towards a destination neither of them wanted.

Earlier, as Sebastian zipped up his duffel bag, a question tumbled out of Y/N, a question that felt heavier than it should have been. "Going out tonight?"

"Party," he replied, his voice clipped. A pang shot through her. He hadn't bothered to invite her. It wasn't like him. They used to spend every spare moment together, decompressing after the pressure of the races, sharing stolen kisses in the motorhome, whispering dreams and secrets under starlit skies.

Their careers had always been demanding, both chasing the ultimate prize in Formula One. But this felt different. The spark seemed to have sputtered out, replaced by a cold, empty space where laughter and warmth used to reside. Every attempt at conversation was met with a one-word reply from Sebastian, punctuated by long, heavy silences that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. It felt like she was talking to a stranger wearing his familiar face, a ghost of the man she'd fallen in love with.

The silence was shattered by a ping from Y/N's phone. A message from Kimi, their teammate at Ferrari. "Big congrats on the promotion, Y/N! You deserve it!" Her heart swelled with a mixture of pride and a deep, gnawing sadness. A promotion – a culmination of years of hard work, a testament to her dedication and talent. Maybe this was a new beginning, a chance for a fresh start in her career, even if her personal life was crumbling around her like a sandcastle under the relentless tide.

Just then, Sebastian spoke, his voice laced with a hint of confusion, a stark contrast to his usual stoicism. "Promotion? How come I didn't know about this?"

Y/N's smile evaporated faster than champagne bubbles. "I told you," she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. The words felt heavy on her tongue, a constant reminder of the conversations that never happened, the silences that spoke volumes.

Sebastian's brow furrowed. "What? When?"

"Weeks ago," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "When you were...busy." The last word dripped with a bittersweet irony, a painful reminder of the long nights he spent training, strategizing, anything but spending time with her.

A flicker of something – regret, maybe, or realization – crossed Sebastian's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He blinked rapidly, a sheen appearing in his eyes that mirrored the cityscape lights reflecting in the car windows. Y/N saw it, the vulnerability beneath his stoic facade, a vulnerability that chipped away at the wall of resentment she'd built around her heart. But a bigger part of her was numb. The silence returned, heavier than before, a suffocating blanket that wrapped itself around them, stealing the oxygen from the conversation, leaving only the raw, exposed nerve of their fading connection.

The plane touched down with a soft thud, a jarring contrast to the turmoil within. They disembarked, the familiar routine of retrieving luggage a stark contrast to the turmoil within. Now, they sat in a car, Sebastian driving, the cityscape blurring past the window. Neither of them made a move to break the silence. It was a heavy silence, pregnant with unspoken questions, hurt feelings, and the fading embers of a love that might have been saved, if only they'd spoken sooner, if only they'd fought for what they had. The question hung in the air, a silent accusation: how did we get here?

seb's pov :

Frustration gnawed at me. The silence was suffocating, a tangible entity pressing down on us. Y/N stared out the window, her face a mask of what I could only imagine was hurt. The guilt gnawed at me, a dull ache in my gut.

The truth was, I didn't know how we'd gotten here. Everything seemed to be happening at breakneck speed – championships to defend, sponsors to meet, endless travel. Somewhere along the way, the laughter had died, the late-night talks dwindled, and the space between us had grown wider.

Pulling into the usual spot, I killed the engine. "Lunch?" I asked, the question heavy on my tongue. Y/N shook her head, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"No thanks, Seb. I have a mountain of paperwork to catch up on."

The dismissal stung. Back in the day, she'd have insisted we grab a sandwich, stolen a moment together amidst the chaos. Now, it felt like every interaction had to be negotiated.

I watched her disappear into the building, my gaze falling on Lewis strolling next to her, a playful jab at her shoulder eliciting a short laugh. It was the first real laugh I'd heard from her in weeks. A strange mix of jealousy and relief bubbled up inside me. Relief that she wasn't perpetually shrouded in sadness, but jealousy that it was someone else who'd managed to coax a smile out of her.

The rest of the week was a blur of meetings and debriefs. There were stolen glances across the paddock, a brush of fingers that sent a jolt down my spine, and the lingering scent of her perfume in the air after she'd left for the day. Every night, she leaned in, a ghost of a kiss landing on my cheek before she disappeared into her room. It felt like a plea, a silent attempt to bridge the growing chasm between us.

One evening, I found myself drawn back to our room after dinner. Y/N sat on the balcony, her phone clasped in her hands, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. My heart ached. I knew then that the distance wasn't just the result of our hectic schedules. It was something deeper, something I couldn't quite grasp.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the balcony. "Hey," I croaked out, my voice thick with emotion. Y/N startled, quickly wiping away the tear.

She turned to me, a flicker of hope sparking in her eyes before fading just as quickly. "Seb," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

We stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The silence stretched on, threatening to swallow us whole. But this time, something was different. This time, I wouldn't let it. I had to know. I had to fight for what we had, even if I didn't know where to begin.

The dam broke. Y/N's shoulders started shaking, a choked sob escaping her lips. Before I could react, she spun around, burying her face in her hands. Her body wracked with silent tears, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the quiet night.

My heart shattered in my chest. I rushed to her side, panic clawing at my throat. "Baby," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. Tentatively, I reached out, my hand hovering over her shoulder.

She flinched at first, then leaned back against me, the floodgates finally opening. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. My own vision blurred as a wave of guilt and regret washed over me. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, the scent of her shampoo a familiar comfort amidst the storm.

"Y/N," I choked out, my voice raw. "I'm so sorry. So incredibly sorry."

She didn't speak, just clung tighter, her sobs muffling against my chest. In that moment, the silence that had plagued us for weeks was a distant memory. The only sound that mattered was the ragged rhythm of her breathing, the steady beat of my own heart echoing the frantic rhythm of a race.

Holding her felt like holding onto the last shred of something precious. It was a desperate attempt to rewind time, to claw back the moments we'd let slip away.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her sobs subsided into hiccups. She pulled back slightly, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, held a vulnerability that tore at my soul.

"My heart hurts, Seb," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It hurts so fucking much, how did we get here seb? When did everything go wrong?."

The words struck me like a physical blow. The weight of her pain was a tangible thing, pressing down on me. I cupped her face in my calloused hands, forcing myself to meet her gaze.

"Mine too," I confessed, tears tracing warm paths down my own cheeks. "More than you'll ever know. Please lets just talk about it, don't give up on us baby please don't.."

The unspoken apology hung in the air, a silent promise to mend what we'd broken. We stood there for a long time, two souls battered by the storm, seeking solace in the wreckage. The path ahead was uncertain, but in that moment, we were together. And for now, that was enough.

We clung to each other, the world fading away into a blur of moonlight and the rhythmic chirping of crickets. Slowly, Y/N disentangled herself from the embrace, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"Talk to me, Seb," she said, her voice hoarse, but laced with a newfound determination. "What's going on?"

Shame washed over me. I hadn't realized how much I'd needed to hear those words. To finally break the silence that had choked the life out of our relationship.

"I... I don't know," I stammered, my voice thick with emotion. "The pressure, it's been building. The championship fight, the sponsors, everything just feels so overwhelming." My voice cracked, a sob escaping my lips. "I just... I shut down. Pushed everyone away, especially you."

Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. Y/N didn't flinch. Instead, she took my hand, her touch a beacon in the storm. Gently, she brushed away a tear that traced a path down my cheek.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady. "Let it out."

And I did. The words tumbled out in a torrent, a jumbled mess of anxieties and insecurities. The fear of failure, the weight of expectations, the constant feeling of being on the edge. I spoke of the loneliness that had gnawed at me despite being surrounded by people, the way I'd convinced myself pushing her away was somehow protecting her.

The entire time, Y/N sat beside me, a silent pillar of strength. She listened with a patience I didn't deserve, wiping away every tear that escaped, her touch a soothing balm on my raw emotions.

By the time I finished, I was drained, emotionally spent. I looked at her, bracing myself for the inevitable storm, for the anger and hurt I knew I deserved.

But all I saw in her eyes was understanding. A soft smile played on her lips, laced with a hint of sadness. "It's not your fault," she said, her voice gentle. "This sport, it gets inside you, twists and contorts everything until all you see is the finish line."

Relief washed over me, warm and unexpected. "You... you understand?"

She nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Of course I do. We're in this together, remember?" Her voice hitched slightly. "But you can't keep bottling things up, Seb. Talk to me. Let me in."

The words were a revelation. The realization that pushing her away had only served to push us further apart settled in my stomach like a lead weight.

"I will," I promised, my voice thick with emotion. "I'll try my best to communicate."

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy in the air. But this time, it was a different kind of silence. A hopeful one, filled with the promise of a new beginning.

As the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in a kaleidoscope of pinks and oranges, I knew we had a long way to go. But for the first time in weeks, I felt a spark of hope flicker within me. We were broken, yes, but not beyond repair. And with Y/N by my side, I was ready to face the challenges ahead, together.

We sat on the cool floor of the balcony, the city lights twinkling below like scattered diamonds. The weight of the confession had lifted, replaced by a fragile hope. The silence, this time, was filled with a tentative peace, an unspoken promise to rebuild. Y/N leaned against me while I played with her hair.

"So," I began, my voice rough from crying, "tell me about this promotion. You barely mentioned it."

Y/N chuckled, a fragile sound. "It all happened so fast. They needed someone to fill a senior role, and apparently, my name came up."

I couldn't help but feel a pang of something akin to jealousy. "Why didn't you tell me? We should've celebrated!" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, the memory of Kimi's congratulatory text a fresh sting.

Y/N's smile faltered slightly. "I tried, Seb. But you were always so… distant. Lost in your own world."

Her words hit a nerve, a stark reminder of my own failings. Shame burned in my gut. "I'm so sorry. I was a complete idiot."

Y/N reached out, her fingers brushing against mine. "It's okay. Just promise you'll listen now." Her voice held a note of playful challenge.

I squeezed her hand, the warmth seeping into my cold fingers. "Always."

We talked for hours, catching up on the lost weeks. I learned about her anxieties about the new role, the pressure to deliver, the long nights spent buried in technical manuals. She listened patiently as I recounted the grueling training sessions, the never-ending strategy meetings, the suffocating pressure to win.

"And those parties?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Stress relief, or just a way to avoid me?"

I winced. "Neither, honestly. Just… a way to escape for a while. I shouldn't have shut you out."

"Well, maybe next time, you could invite me to escape with you," she said, her eyes twinkling with a playful glint.

A relieved laugh escaped my lips. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep me grounded."

"Always," she replied, mimicking my earlier words before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on my lips. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a spark igniting a long-dormant fire.

"But seriously, Seb," Y/N continued, her voice turning serious. "Are you taking care of yourself? Eating properly? Getting enough sleep?"

The concern in her voice washed over me. "I… I try," I admitted sheepishly. Travel, training, and the constant mental strain often took a toll on my well-being.

She shook her head playfully. "Trying isn't enough. Promise me you'll make an effort. For yourself, and for me."

Looking into her eyes, the love and worry shining back at me, I knew I couldn't refuse. "I promise my love," I said, my voice filled with newfound determination.

The night bled into morning, the city lights giving way to the soft glow of dawn. We still had a mountain of issues to navigate, the road to recovery wouldn't be easy. But with open communication, a newfound understanding, and the unwavering presence of the woman I loved by my side, I knew we could face anything, together.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Y/N asked, her voice gentle as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The air hung heavy with unspoken thoughts, and I knew she could sense my hesitation.

"It's stupid, really," I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"Nothing's stupid if it's bothering you," she insisted, her touch a soothing balm on my conscience. Taking a deep breath, I met her eyes.

"Seeing you laugh with the other drivers," I admitted, shame creeping into my voice. "It felt… strange. Like you were a world away."

Y/N's brow furrowed in understanding. "Oh, Seb," she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of sadness.

"I know it's ridiculous," I continued, my voice defensive. "We're competitive, all of us. But seeing you smile… it just reminded me of how distant we'd become. When Kimi texted you about the promotion, I damn near wanted to strange him. All those time I declined lunch and Lewis came over and made you smile, I haven't hated myself more."

A small smile played on Y/N's lips. "Jealous of Lewis getting a laugh out of me?" she teased playfully.

"Maybe a little," I admitted sheepishly. "But mostly, I just missed seeing you happy, and having it be because of me."

The raw vulnerability in my voice seemed to soften her even further. She reached out, her thumb gently stroking a tear that traced a path down my cheek.

"We were both drowning, Seb," she said, her voice soft. "The pressure, the distance… it took its toll on both of us. But seeing them smile, seeing you smile, that's not a bad thing. It just means we know how to find joy, even when things are tough."

Her words resonated with me. Maybe, just maybe, she was right. Perhaps seeing her connect with others wasn't a sign of her drifting away, but a testament to her strength, her resilience.

"I guess I just…" I fumbled for the right words. "I just want to be the reason behind your smile."

Y/N's smile widened, brighter than the sunrise painting the horizon. "You are, Seb," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "You always have been, and I hope you always will be."

She leaned in then, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness, a promise for a new beginning, and a reminder of the love that had weathered the storm. We might have been bruised, but we were far from broken. And as we sat there, bathed in the golden light of dawn, a new chapter in our love story began.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ avaspeaks - anon ur such a star <3 i hope u enjoy this ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[candy-heart-brew]

I've seen some fans theorize that the lyrics to "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" tie into Frank's developing relationship with Eddie, potentially foreshadowing a grisly end for a favorite mailman. The lyrics are incredibly emotional and poor Frank sounds like he's fighting back tears during this entire record, making it feel like there's something more going on under the surface. While it's entirely possible that this is meant to foreshadow Frank and Eddie eventually being separated, I think the song's symbolism could be pointing to a different direction...

I touched a bit on this in a different post but to summarize: the attitude that Frank displays during "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" is completely at odds to his reaction to Eddie at the party. During BaBaG he's sad but resigned to fate, he knows that hibernation is inevitable but takes a bit of comfort in the knowledge that it's only temporary and that his loneliness will only last through winter. So, he does his best to power through, keep his personal feelings out of it, and assure his little friends that he'll be alright.

By contrast, his reaction to Eddie's behavior at the party is one of panic and confusion. He doesn't understand what's happening to Eddie or why he's suddenly gone unresponsive, he just knows that he isn't acting like himself at all and he can't accept that. He refuses to leave Eddie alone even after being ignored, continuing to push until he gets a response, at which point he immediately realizes something is wrong and tries to push further, only stopping when Eddie leaves. At this point in the story they don't appear to be especially close but Frank's terrified reaction speaks volumes about his true feelings for Eddie. And if this is how he reacts to him being quieter than usual, I can't imagine that he'd be much calmer or more composed in the event of losing Eddie altogether. IMO, he's far more likely to get angry and demand answers rather than wax poetic. So while "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" could potentially foreshadow Eddie's fate, Frank's subdued reaction makes me question that interpretation. I do think there's a deeper meaning to BaBaG, that Frank is singing about something other than bugs, just not Eddie. But then who? Well, as we found out in this last update, bugs are not the only creatures in the neighborhood that hibernate...

Think about it for a moment- Julie is going to be gone for months, leaving Frank all alone without his best friend. Who's going to invite him to games now? Who's going to listen to him about his interests and laugh at his jokes? Who's going to bake gelatin monstrosities with him? Julie is practically his other half so to lose her for months on end must be very difficult for him! He knows that she can't help it and he doesn't blame her but that hardly makes it any easier. All he can really do now is just push that sadness down, wish her goodnight, and wait for her to return.

Under this interpretation, certain lyrics in BaBaG take on a different meaning to me. Lines like "I know it's for the best, I can't keep you," or "I'll be the first to tell you, you just can't stay," could imply an oncoming rift between the two of them. The recent updates have implied that Frank and Julie were written to be a couple and were perceived as such in-universe. We don't yet know how the two of them felt about that but we do know that they were very close to the point of doing basically everything together! But now Frank is falling in love with someone else, someone who may very well come to eclipse Julie in terms of importance to him. No matter how much he loves her, no matter how much they might want to stay together, there are some things you just can't fight and this play-relationship they have can't last forever...

But that's just my interpretation!

[httpswritings]

Poison Paradise — Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Warnings: none.

Word count: Around 1,1k

Summary: Enemies to lovers (?) after a match.

Aitana tried to forget about how nervous you made her, but deeply inside, she knew any effort would be in vain. 

Spanish camp had been a stressful environment way before Aitana could remember, and that was key to getting closer with you.

Playing for Real Madrid against Barça had always been hell, but something shifted the last time you had to.

Aitana came up to you with a shy smile as she bit her lower lip.

Her eyes were widening and showed a mixture of victory and compassion.

She enjoyed playing against your team, relishing every victory against the historic rival in men's team history.

But watching you console your teammates as the first captain of your team was crushing her heart. You had walked all over the pitch, shaking hands with the Barça players, including Aitana, to then shift your focus to your teammates. 

Some of them were on their knees, others were crying or walking off the pitch as they stormed out, and some others did not care at all.

At one moment, the stadium felt way bigger than before, as the crowd sounds seemed to penetrate your ears until you were only able to hear a high-pitched sound. 

If you had been more aware of your surroundings, you'd probably have experienced a panic attack, but you were numb, and after another defeat against Barcelona, no one could blame you for not feeling anything anymore.

That's what Aitana noticed. She saw you looking at her as she approached you. Her soft smile quickly disappeared after noticing your blank stare. 

“Let's go inside? Do you need anything?”

She only got more worried after not getting any response back, quickly holding your hand to guide you as you both walked off the pitch.

As the two of you headed to your changing room, she got nearer you, her lips dangerously close to yours.

You started to feel more alive as her eyes looked at you.

Aitana looked visibly concerned.

“Let me get you some water.”

You harshly stopped her from leaving your side—maybe too harsh, as she bumped into you.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly apologized, thinking she was going to get mad, but she stayed quiet, looking from your neck to your lips.

You instinctively licked yours.

Your mind tried to regain focus, but could you blame yourself for not being able to?

She brushed your arms softly, as a way of easing you, but your thoughts had turned into a mess of neediness for her body.

You rolled your eyes when your teammate Maite approached you.

Maite had been Aitana's friend for a while, as they both had met some years ago during national camp.

She was visibly affected by the loss, too, so Aitana shifted the closeness of your body to Maite's, leaving you in a state of jealousy.

You weren't a jealous person; you didn't like Aitana, and you couldn't start having feelings for your biggest rival.

Surprisingly, Aitana had managed to get Maite head to your changing room.

She felt awful for brushing her friend off, but she needed to have a moment with you.

“Are you leaving now?”

You nodded.

She was running out of time.

Everything happened so fast.

The game, the aftermath, but somehow whenever she looked into your eyes, she felt time stopping, you being the only source of life.

Her hand rested on your waist.

“I'm proud of you.”

You rolled your eyes. 

Not at her words, but at the thought of the match you had just played.

“I appreciate it, but I don't feel like talking about this.”

She nodded and pulled you into a warm hug.

Her embrace made you almost cry, until you tilted your head, finding her neck.

It was an innocent move, the best way you found to stop the tears falling down, but as your nose softly brushed the skin of her neck, you noticed how she shivered and hissed in a low volume, even though you were able to hear it.

You separated a little bit from her, trying to figure out if she was feeling the same way as you.

You took as a confirmation the way she looked around, just in case someone was approaching.

It was not safe to do anything there, so Aitana grabbed your hand and pulled you into her team's changing room.

You froze at first, not wanting to enter the place where the players had been celebrating the victory, but you gave in and let her guide you through it.

The players looked curiously at you, not understanding why you were there or the quickness of Aitana to pull you into the bathroom.

“It's an emergency,” she informed her teammates, causing the opposite of what she had in mind, as they approached you both, who were already into a bathroom facility.

“Yes, she's fine. Don't worry.” 

You had to stop laughing as you shook your head, not being able to believe all the mess Aitana had done just to have some privacy with you.

She looked at you and slightly tilted her head to the left as a way of asking for permission, and you nodded.

With her hand placed on your left cheek, Aitana pressed her lips against yours.

Adrenaline rushed throughout your body.

You knew this was wrong; everything about this was awfully wrong.

But you couldn't get enough of the poison paradise Aitana's lips were. 

How could something so forbidden taste so good?

Her lips guided you through the kiss.

It started roughly, slowing down as you kissed.

Her knee pressed against your core as she was quick enough to cover your mouth.

You could hear the other players talking in the bathroom.

“Tell me you have some time left before you have to go. You don't know how much I've thought about this,” Aitana whispered.

You had to leave in about ten minutes, and you hadn't even showered.

“I can't...” 

She sighed.

“I've wanted this for a long time, too.”

Aitana looked up and smiled when she saw you smiling, warming her heart knowing the day you've been having.

She placed her head on your chest, “This is so wrong... Like so wrong.”

You laughed.

“I think we both know. But I really want— need to kiss you.”

Aitana looked at you as she licked her lips, and you laughed again, making her roll her eyes.

“Do I need to ask you?”

Aitana nodded, enjoying your desperation to feel her lips.

“Can you kiss me, Aitana?”

She softly grabbed your head, bringing it closer to hers but tilting it to the right, so she could reach your ear.

“As you wish, beautiful.” 

And with that, she linked her lips to yours, both of you tasting the bittersweet taste of rivalry.