#and is it worth saying 'nice' just for that?

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 | Jackson!Joel Miller x reader

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summary | Your postcards become a personal journal during patrols with Joel.

author's note | a little late, but this is my entry for @jolapeno's dear-uary! i had very little idea what i was going to do initially, but this kinda turned into its own thing. i hope the postcards are a nice addition to the fic, they were quite fun to make.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, jackson era joel, patrol partners, quiet!reader, enemies to lovers, one instance of choking, mentions of violence, angst, mean!joel, voyeurism, forced orgasm, thigh riding

word count — 7k

“It’s the fifth time I’ve came back and she’s been sleepin’,” Joel gripes a handful of feet below as you feign resting, trying to relax the sneer that threatened to cross your face, annoyed with the exhaustion that never left but loathing the man who couldn’t seem to give you a break, “or writing in that damn book, ignoring us.”

“I’ll talk—” Joel interrupts Tommy once more, with emphasis on the amount, but Tommy reels him in, squeezing down on his shoulder as you peek through one eye over the railing, scoffing under your breath, “I’ll talk to her, alright? S’awonder what a simple conversation can fix, Joel.”

His approach comes later during shift change as the night slowly melted into dawn, the sun rising on the horizon in waves of orange and purple, creating a cotton candy sky, hearing Tommy’s voice carry as he greeted people along the way before the scuff of his boots stopped behind you, you turn to peer up at him sheepishly.

“Not a good look, y’know?” Tommy says redundantly, “I’m not tryin’ to gripe you out, but Joel—”

You nod knowingly, waving him off as you toss your pencil and notebook aside, adjusting your jacket over your shoulders as you sit upright, rubbing the sleep out of tired eyes.

“You can always put me on kitchen duty, hell I’ll take—”

“No—no, I’m not moving you. You havin’ trouble sleeping in the singles?”

The apartments, the singles—it varied, depending on who you asked. A place for the younger, single survivors in Jackson. With the constant sound and rumble of life within the walls, you should feel safe, a subtle semblance of home, but sleeping alone was hard. Trapped within four walls, drowned out by the eventual silence as night fell, it left room for the nightmares.

It was easier here, surrounded by others, sounds to help keep you grounded, the fresh air despite the stale smells and faint fumes of rotting corpses. You couldn’t explain it, but it was easier. Besides, it wasn’t like you were being completely negligent—even Tommy knew that.

“I have trouble sleeping in general,” You feed him a half-truth, “I’ll keep it together, though. As long as it keeps Joel off your ass and mine, I wouldn’t be thrilled to be on the receiving end of one of Joel’s outbursts.”

“Tantrums, more like.” He jokes with a smirk, his teeth peeking out under his thick mustache. “I really don’t mind if you’re dozing off a bit, s’long as there’s others keepin’ watch. Maybe–just maybe, try and keep up the act when Joel’s coming and going.”

“Can do,” You agree with ease and Tommy smiles, pointing lazily toward your notebook.

“I’m curious, though—whatcha got goin’ on in there?”

Your brow furrows until you look over your shoulder and surmise what he’s referencing, picking up the notebook carelessly and flipping through to show him–it was a mix of random doodles and sketches, some vulgar words scribbled in by a mix of immature men who you’ve come to befriend with reluctance on the job, a detailed log of everyone’s schedule as they leave and return, random details of weather patterns, things you’ve noticed along the skyline toward the inner city, several months worth of information that Tommy nods at, thoughtful as he looks over the pages.

“Don’t let ‘em give you a hard time,” Tommy tells you, folding the cover closed.

“Yes, sir,” You say endearingly, mostly as a jest at Tommy’s expense, knowing he despised the word, making a face as he turned on his heels to leave.

“Shit makes me feel old,” He gripes, shaking his head in a mix of disdain and amusement, “stop it.”

You smile at his annoyance as you tuck your belongings away into your pack and trade your rifle off to Jesse, who seemed more than eager to take your shift with bright, well-rested eyes and a grin of his face as greeted you both.

As you expect, there is little sleep to be had as you hit your bed, tossing and turning as you fiddle with the ripped hole in your bed sheet or spend time counting the stains on your ceilings—mold spots and holes, signs of a building that was on the way out, but hanging by a thread.

Tommy wouldn’t condemn the place unless it was in shambles, finding use of just about anything if it still had enough life in it. 

And you follow Tommy’s instructional plea—even if it killed you to appease Joel, who seemed just as critical if not more as he rode up on his horse every few nights.

Their shifts weren’t always regular and Joel often picked up extra patrols when someone else couldn’t, complaining entirely too much for someone who seemed like they couldn’t stand living within the sanctuary of Jackson, like he’d rather tough it out on his own.

Ellie blamed it on his inability to let himself settle—Jackson was home, his family was here, and physically he could exist, but he never seemed quite present.

You catch Ellie on a shift change as Tommy and Joel approach, trading out your jerky for her sandwich as she hurriedly tucked it away like she was going to get caught doing something she shouldn’t, snorting softly at her actions as Joel scowled, pulling at the reigns of his horse as he drew near.

The call of your name has you perking up, peering around Ellie’s head at Tommy with a less than enthusiastic look on his face, rifles held between both of the brothers grips.

“I’m askin’ for a huge favor,” Instantly you knew, posture slumping slightly as your boots sunk into the snow, “Cindy’s sick—caught the same bug that’s been goin’ around. Can you cover another shift? I’ll owe ya.”

“Seems more like you’re telling me,” You retort, stretching the beanie down over the back of your head to cover your ears, the cold biting at your skin, “—it’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“Thank—“

“But I want the weekend off.”

“Done.” Tommy agrees without problem.

The patrol box wasn’t all that bad anyways, insulated enough that you weren’t freezing your ass off, enough room for two people, it could be worse. It was better than walking the strip of the barricade, shivering until you couldn’t even feel your toes.

Wyoming winters were brutal, but it seemed like the end of the world had found a vengeance to fight back with, giving you the harshest versions of every season. A blizzard was expected within the next few weeks and those were never ideal—extra patrols, doubling watchmen, curfews. It sucked.

You find yourself sketching out the same tree line you’ve drawn a hundred times, wispy tendrils and thick trunks that wove together like a web, time drifting by with ease as the night swallowed up the day, the thick blanket of snow reducing both the noise and allowing a soft illumination as you peered off into the distance, almost mesmerized at the glowing orb that seemed to grow closer and closer. 

Tommy and Joel were the last ones out, everyone else having returned back hours prior, keeping in mind that they had taken the furthest patrol out north, so it wasn’t all that surprising.

But, it doesn’t take long for you to realize that Joel and Tommy are not alone, horses trotting quickly toward the gates as a small group of raiders followed closely behind and shot of rifle rounds with no exact target, whizzing by your head as you opened the door and ran to your own rifle, sliding to the wall for cover as you quickly loaded your gun and swung it over the ledge.

It wasn’t often that you had to use it outside of training and target practice, finding that Jackson had always been relatively quiet—except for now, as the brothers tumbled to cover as shots fired from your left and right, a few of the attackers succumbed to their flurry of wounds.

You watch as one raider attacks the brothers head on, short-lived as Joel attacks him with his fists, a hand bunching into the front of the attackers shirt before he’s crushing his skull in with pure rage and strength, eventually ending up with his hands around the other man's neck while he choked on the blood that spilled from his mouth, the light in his eyes slowly fading.

There’s a straggler on the outskirts, though, blending in as he slid through the tree line and attempted to attack Joel from behind, you quickly aim down your sight through the scope of the gun, following a straight and calm line as the man approached, stepping a few feet away from Joel before the bullet slices through his head, falling to the ground in an instant. 

Joel’s head whips toward you, your head peeking over the scope as you examine the body before looking over at him, seemingly stunned but the expression was subdued, quietly mouthing something to his brother who wasn’t as good at hiding his shock. 

Either you had made the right choice in saving Joel’s life or he was going to twist this on you, somehow proving that you could’ve killed him with your carelessness, letting a shot ring out so close to his head.

The dread you were feeling does come to fruition as Tommy knocks on your door that weekend, your soft voice welcoming him inside as you perched against the alcove in your room, a small ledge tucked against the windowsill. 

“I ain’t here to lecture you,” Tommy begins, cutting through your doubt, “feel like I’m constantly askin’ so much of you but Joel and I can agree on one thing. You’re a damn good shot.”

You scoff at that, almost a laugh. 

He leaned against the wall near the small kitchen tucked into the corner of the apartment, arms crossed over his chest.

“We lost James,” from what you recalled, he was a young kind, inexperienced, reckless too, “poor kid never fuckin’ listened, got shot before he could even get his gun out.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask bluntly, looking up at him through a downturned gaze, picking at the chipped paint by your feet.

“We’re down a person. I want you to take over.”

“I thought this was a council decision. Some prestigious thing, putting people through tests before they could—“

“It’s the least of my worries. Maria’s close to her due date too, that storm is creepin’ in. We ain’t got time to waste, we’ll be doubling patrols soon. Are you in or out, kid?”

Tommy’s face screamed desperation, sunken eyes were a telltale sign of lacking sleep, stress rifling his features. He had a lot on his plate, the weight of Jackson on his shoulders, his burgeoning new family growing within a few weeks. You had a soft spot for him unfortunately and it was always your downfall.

“I’m in.”

—

“You listen to every word I say,” Joel tells you, snaking by the others loading up their saddle bags, side stepping the horse’s head as he crowds you into the small space of the stall, “Every single word, got it?”

He’s never been friendly—cordial, maybe. But, Joel wasn’t the type to ask or suggest. It was always order and demand, his harsh tone constricting the words to instill an edge that had your brows furrowing down into your lids, face scrunching up in annoyance.

You agree regardless, nodding your head as you clip the saddlebag closed.

“I need to hear it.”

“Got it,” You retort, sarcasm laced around your tongue, “Every single word. You say run, I run. Jump, I jump. Good enough?”

Joel shakes his head slightly at your tone, looking off toward the entrance of the barn at his brother who was deep into a conversation, displeased with the idea of being paired with you.

But, he was the only one Tommy trusted to train you properly, even if it meant several hours together with a good chance you both might kill each other. 

With Joel, you were safe from everything else but him.

“Yeah, thas’ good.” He relents, turning on his heels before he finishes his sentence.

The weather was only just beginning to pick up, the winds whipping your loose hair over your face, pulling them from the tie you had pulling the majority of it back, hood snug over your head. You hear the distinct sound of leather rubbing against itself as Joel tightens his grips on the reins of his horse, settling beside you quietly as Tommy called off everyone’s posting.

You were assigned to the ski lodge far north, the furthest they patrolled but for good reason. It kept the raiders at bay, staking claim so far out and keeping them away, for the most part. Plus, it gave them an early jump on any of the migrating groups of infected, finding that they often moved in hoards during the colder months, picking off the stragglers that wandered in.

The trip is cold, lips dry and cracking by the time you reach the lodge, but relatively easy. 

“Tie ‘em up,” Joel instructs coarsely, waiting to latch the door closed as you tie the horses up to the makeshift post in the foyer, his foot holding the door open as you step past him, shoulder brushing his elbow as his eyes track the touch silently, clicking the lock into place.

“Beds are up there,” Joel pointed toward the right corner, couches lined with sheets and pillows, “s’better to sleep down here with this weather, place don’t keep out the cold that well unless we got a fire going and even then…”

“I’ll be fine,” You assure him tensely, stripping your jacket off your shoulders and slinging it over the back of a nearby chair, pack falling slack against the floor, leaving you free to wander around.

“Sign us in,” He points vaguely in the direction of the bar, an old leather booklet resting against the wall with a pin tucked around a page, his voice carrying as you walk further away, “I’ll start up a fire.”

Joel was like a ghost, almost forgetting he was there until he’s approaching behind you, that familiar grimace on his face as he finds you scouring through the book, curiosity getting the best of you—it was harmless, but Joel thought otherwise.

“Is this gonna be an issue?” He asks, eyes widened slightly in an expectant manner, waiting for your response.

You wrestle with the urge to roll your eyes, neatly writing your names down into the book, checking quickly at your watch before you snap the book closed and shove it aside.

You move to walk around him, but his palm flattens out against your collarbone, shoving you back into place—he wasn’t letting you move without an answer.

“No,” You answer casually, pushing his hand away gently, “Are you gonna explain how any of this works?”

“We take turns,” Joel says, mirroring your early actions as he strips off his couch, the warmth of the fire already spreading throughout the room, “I’ll take first shift ‘til morning, then we swap.”

“And if we see something?”

“You wake me up,” He tells you, “otherwise, don’t.”

It was a simple but lethal instruction, a warning.

This was going to be absolute hell.

Luckily, the conversation dies out and you wander toward the small gift shop attached to the bar. It was mostly picked through besides the small plush bear sitting alone on the shelf and a revolving carousel of postcards, aged from both weather and time. You spin them around careful, mindlessly plucking a few that still seemed in good enough condition before you’re shoving them away in your bag, ignoring the creak of a chair as Joel sat with his rifle in his lap, leaned back as he stared out the long expansive window that covered the wall, just on the edge of cliff with a substantial drop.

It had a beautiful view, breathtaking, really. But, looking in his direction only made you feel more and more unsettled, taking your seat beside the fire quietly.

“Should get some sleep,” He suggest without turning his head over his shoulder, your eyes glancing in his direction, “don’t need you fallin’ asleep on patrol here.”

And normally, you could find yourself falling asleep easily given the situation. But, you were on edge, fearful, something twisting in your gut that kept you from relaxing. You’ve heard the stories about Joel, how ruthlessly he killed and maimed. A man of action rather than peace.

You pull a single postcard from your back to distract yourself, hoping that it might help lull you to sleep eventually.

And you wished it had gotten easier, but the more you were paired with Joel, the more tension it seemed to cause, always unspoken—Joel never reacted, barely skirting the idea that this was becoming a problem, the lack thereof with communication, speaking only when you absolutely needed to.

His questions were always odd, like a robot attempting to make small talk—and often, it was observations, one-off statements that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did.

But, they did.

“Sleepin’ with that knife ain’t safe.” Joel told you on a crisp, stormy night at the end of January, the tail end of it peeking out from under your pillow, one eye peeling open to look at him with disdain.

“Says the man who sleeps with a rifle on his chest.”

Joel chews at his bottom lip, looking down at the bulky weapon in his lap before he ignores your retort, focusing his gaze on the book in his grip, something he’s read through about a hundred times, attempting to give himself a different view, flipping through the pages mindlessly.

“Where’d you learn to use a gun like that?” He asks suddenly, cutting through the silence again.

Another question, one you could leave unanswered. 

“We’re not put in the watchtower without gun training,” You tell him, “seems kinda self explanatory, Tommy trained me himself.”

“That kinda shootin’ isn’t taught.” Is all he replies with—almost like an accusation. 

“I think you’ve forgotten that QZ kids were born with a gun in their hand.”

It was an asinine exaggeration, but still wholeheartedly the truth. You knew every part of a gun before you could even confidently tie your shoes, it was unfortunately second nature when you had a gun in your hand, similar to a knife. Your grip tightened around the handle as you closed your eyes, succumbing to sleep eventually.

You wade in and out, peeking through bleary eyes and always find Joel’s eyes on you, whether purposeful or not, he was always watching. Even as you wandered, no matter where you were—maybe it was his own strange way of hoping that it provided you comfort, that he was always watching out. But, it never made you feel safe. Not really. And, in turn, you find yourself doing the same thing.

He’s more relaxed when he’s sleeping, the familiar scowl non-existent as he snores alongside the crackling fire or roar of wind, his boots untied and loosened but never off, never too comfortable. Joel always slept with his arms crossed, sitting up or lying down, occasionally mumbling in his sleep as he whimpered, his face contorting in the only sign of emotion you see from him outside of anger and annoyance.

You scribble out your thoughts on a postcard to pass the time.

He never asks about the stack of postcards in your bag, remaining blissfully ignorant. It was an unspoken agreement, that prying wasn’t something either of you were going to make an attempt at—you could simply exist around each other, no baggage or stories to be traded.

For now, at least.

–

It was nearly four months of patrols when Tommy lays his plans out and surprisingly, Joel doesn’t seem displeased and truthfully, things had become easier with him than anyone else.

You didn’t have to put on an act for him.

He could tell when you were exhausted or irritated, giving you space with a silent pass of the sandwiches he had picked up before leaving, retreating to his own corner, though his eyes still lingered.

It had taken a few months, but you did feel that safety with him that Ellie often talked to you about—his steadfast personality, knowing that if something were to happen, he’d handle it. 

But, he’s still a mystery.

“Ellie told me ‘bout that time you killed a group of raiders tryin’ to attack her,” You start the conversation bluntly, biting into the steak sandwich, “You like knives more than guns?”

Bold, he thinks. That’s fuckin’ bold.

“Guns are loud,” He replies, “Knives aren’t.”

You think back to the incident at Jackson with another set of raiders, witnessing Joel kill a man with his bare hands and think - maybe he preferred neither, if given another choice.

The prospect shouldn’t excite you or even entertain you, the brute power he holds.

But, it does.

You make a soft nose of acknowledgement as you nod your head, noticing the subtle glint in his eyes as he revisits the memory with Ellie, his face twitching at the sight of the broken glass slicing through a poor kid’s neck, right along the jugular as he choked on his own blood.

“You kill anyone?”

“A few—just…for survival.” You weren’t sure why you lied.

Joel wasn’t threatened by you in the slightest and lying wasn’t going to change that.

You’ve been lucky enough to avoid it until recently, bouncing from place to place until you landed in Jackson. It had been your home for a while now, so long that you didn’t like to think about it, staying in one place for such a long period of time. 

Joel sat a few feet away in the small house nestled on the mountain, a cool breeze stretching through the open window as Spring had taken hold, flowers blooming over the edge of the windowsill where they threatened to creep in.

His feet were near your head, resting against the ledge of the window as he leaned back in his chair, tapping his knife against the wooden leg of the chair as you pretend to sleep, shifting slightly as the blanket drifted down your body, layers shedded and crumpled by your feet, leaving you in a thin top and and jeans as you turned to your stomach, moaning softly, content.

He’s been less shy about his stares, or oblivious, his gaze lingering when you would catch him in the act—but you count the second in your mind from the moment you catch him through your squinted gaze, his eyes drifting along your body curiously.

Ninety-five seconds.

It was a new record.

And you dream of him that night, it wasn't the first time.

But, this time felt different. Usually the dreams drift away the moment you wake, like a distant and distorted memory, but this one is vivid and lingering as you watch Joel, who had caught you in the midst of your wake but he'd fallen asleep shortly after.

Some fucked up and empty part of you wishes it was reality.

-

You end up at the same patrol a month later, the heat of summer creeping in.

You hadn’t been paired together in a couple weeks and Joel seemed lighter as he stepped beyond the threshold of the house and stripped off his pack, busying himself with a quick sweep 

Wiping your hand over your forehead, skin damp and sweaty as your pack falls to the floor, you sigh, fanning yourself with your hand as Joel catches a subtle glimpse of your obvious discomfort.

“Did Tommy ever fix the water?” You ask with a slight hint of annoyance, more than willing to douse yourself in a bucket of cold water to get some relief, “Please say yes.”

Joel chuckles at that, a small sound that you would have missed had you not been paying direct attention to his response.

“Yes, a couple weeks ago,” Joel answers simply, sinking lazily into the couch, allowing himself a moment of well-earned rest after the long ride here, “go on—I’ll cover the first watch.”

It was all the encouragement you needed. 

And the shower is marvelous, leveled at the perfect temperature to let the cool water wash over your skin, cleaning off the thin layer of dirt that had accumulated from Jackson to here, listening to the faint footsteps as Joel traversed the house, assuming he was setting things up in the bedroom—doors opening, floorboards creaking, the sounds were like a comfort. 

Joel doesn’t talk unless he absolutely has to, more settled in the idea of just existing around you—he knew it brought you a semblance of feeling safe, but he was forcing himself to keep that distance, remaining vigilant to the eyes that constantly watched him, occasionally catching himself doing the same.

Even now, it was like a trance, his head bowed as he passed the bathroom, noticing the small crack in the door as he heard your melodic hum filter over the sound of water, singing a song that reminded him of before, his favorite.

Was it your favorite too?

He doesn’t mean to, not really, but then you’re turning your body away from the shower-head, eyes closed and head tossed back as you washed your hair, the gap in the curtain from this angle giving Joel a perfect view of your body, the pristine slope of your breasts down to your stomach, a few faint scars he followed before his eyes landed on your pelvis, the trimmed patch of hair nestled above your cunt, feeling his throat swell as he swallowed.

The faint creek of his footsteps gives him away, he knows, but you don’t react.

It wasn’t until the midnight hour rolled around, falling asleep on your shift, that Joel sneaks out of the house—sometimes he just needed the silence in nature, no birds chirping overhead, the faint distant growl from traversing hoards that didn’t carry out this far, if he closed his eyes, it was almost as if everything were normal, like he was back at his house in Austin, enjoying a moment out on his back porch.

Unfortunately, Joel was a paranoid man; your quiet footsteps catch him off guard, only feeling your presence as you arrive at his back, turning on his heels in an instant as his hand latches around your throat, tackling you against the ground with his knee digging into your stomach, your face pinched in pain as you throw weak punches at his chest, gasping for air.

He seems trance-like, eyes glossed over as you struggle to breathe, vision blurring around the edges as it begins to tunnel, you muster as much strength as you can to wheeze his name.

“J-oel. Joel, s’me.”

Your voice, broken and strained, seems to break him out of his deadlock grip on your throat, dark eyes snapping back into a soft chestnut, his face softening as much as it could while still remaining hardened, scrambling away from you without a word. Like you had attacked him.

You let out a flurry of coughs as you roll to your side, massaging your throat as your sounds come out raspy and weak, feeling slight pain as you swallow and attempt to rise to your feet, seeing Joel hesitate from your periphery for a moment, considering helping you.

“Coulda fuckin’ killed you,” Is the only thing he offers.

“Yeah,” You respond bitterly, “Almost fucking did.”

“You got a habit of sneakin’ up on people like that? The hell were you thinking?”

He rubbed a hand over his graying beard, the other hand cocked against his hip as he kept a safe distance, watching you pick the clumps of dirt and grass from your hair. 

He’s angry. Angry?

Why the fuck was he angry?

“I was worried—you like to leave at night,” You explain through a strained tone, a tic in your jaw as you clench down, eyes sinking into a scowl as you challenge his expression, “the last thing I need is finding you dead and having to explain that to Tommy.”

A tense silence stretches over, a slow and powerful breath through his nose before he relents and stomps past you, leaving you in a similar position to his earlier, watching his figure trail toward the house as your head turns back toward the sky, covered in stars and picturesque.

The kind of sight you wouldn’t believe if you weren’t seeing it in person.

Joel liked simple pleasures, a moment of silence and a place to sit with himself, and you had disrupted it - the only true moment he had alone all day, to sit, to think. The guilt settles in quickly, lingering for a moment before you decide to make the walk back toward the house.

–

What you aren’t expecting to find is Joel, sifting through your bag, items sprawled out on the floor and the thick cards fitted between his calloused fingers, covered in filth as he read over the notes you had left over the past few months, internal thoughts that you wouldn’t dare let slip.

He'd broken the one unspoken rule you both had kept with each other.

Some of them were slightly more embarrassing than others, forbidden to see the light of day until now, meticulous notes about the details of his face as he slept, how you found the rhythmic sound of his breathing comforting or even more damning, how the more aggressive side of him did the exact opposite of what it should.

It excited you. Turned you on, though the cards held more flourishing details about why and how. Because even then, moments prior as his hands pressed against your throat, there was a brief moment of exhilaration, excitement. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you scramble, stumbling toward him and reaching for the cards he holds easily out of reach, a hand pressing against your shoulder and squeezing tight enough to hold you back.

“You wanna explain this?” Joel asks, the type of tone that made you want to shrink.

Your mouth parts for a moment before you find your voice, brow knitting in frustration as you reach for the postcards once more, failing, “Those are private—why are you snooping?”

“You left a mess,” Joel explains away, the items of your bag spilled on the hardwood floor, chuckling as he continues, “Huh, private? Ain’t much privacy to be had when you’re writing about me.”

You can feel your heart racing, knowing if Joel moved his hand an inch further down he would feel it too.

The stack had to be at least twenty postcards thick, some innocently tame and just a means to let your thoughts and feelings flow, most of them answering questions Joel had asked you earlier in the night that you had refused to answer, giving him nothing to work with.

The ones he does recite are damning, tossing them to the floor as he flips through the stack before reading off a particularly recent one from earlier that night, his confidence slowly flagging as the words leave his mouth.

Shower. Watching me.

It felt good.

“Goes both ways,” You sneer, pushing his hand away and making one final reach for the cards as you successfully pry them from his grip, stuffing them away in your bag along with your other spilled belongings.

Joel’s expression shifts slightly, staring down at your kneeling figure as you avoid his gaze. His boots scuff against the floor as he crowds you against the wall, nowhere to run when you rise to your feet. Attempting to scare, to provoke.

Daringly, you challenge him, “I’m not the only one watching, Joel.”

His eyes narrow, searching your face for any sign of a bluff. For a brief moment, you almost expect him to deny the obvious—lie, lie, lie.

But, even he couldn’t deny the strange connection; or, affliction, that had riddled you both.

You could blame it on the close proximity built over months of isolation, often paired together over your willingness to work efficiently and without issue as time went on—Tommy was used to people butting heads, arguing, favoring one person over the other.

With you two, he could send you off for a patrol and not have to worry about things being left behind or forgotten.

You were innately quiet, even in Jackson, never wanting to ruffle anyone’s feathers or stir up trouble—that was left for the rowdy teens and few and far between drunks. Joel almost suspected you as mole for a brief time upon your arrival in Jackson, a worry soothed by Tommy over time.

But now, he doesn’t know what to think. He can’t figure you out and he’s not really sure he wants to, but you’ve got the kind of look in your eyes that calls out to Joel, silently.

He’s never met someone so controlled, knowing when to keep to themselves and when to bite back; it strings, that bite. He feels it in the way your jaw tightens, attempting to shove past him.

He glances down, noticing the knife tucked away in your left hand. A low, threatening chuckle releases from his lips as his hand grips your wrist, holding it up between your bodies.

“What’re you plannin’ to do with this? Stab me?”

“M’not against it,” You try to keep the strength in your voice, but it wavers slightly.

“I know that look,” Joel challenges, “You ain’t ever killed like this—s’too close, too personal.”

He knocks the knife away with a quick jerk of your wrist as you stumble back against the wall, praying he didn’t hear the small gasp slip from your throat as his chest presses against yours.

“So, you like watchin’ me sleep?” Joel asks in a taunting tone, “Enjoy jottin’ down all those dirty little thoughts thinkin’ I wouldn’t see ‘em?”

“They weren’t meant to be seen. They were private,” You retort, feeling the weight of his body as you exhale, lashes fluttering at his hot breath as it ghosts your face, reiterating, “Private, like my shower? Or, how about all the times I’ve caught you watching me? You know, we could go back and forth about this all night but frankly, I don’t mphh—”

Joel’s hand claps tight over your mouth, effectively silencing you as your face contorts in frustration, hands curling around his thick forearms and fingers, attempting to pry his hand away.

“Look at me,” He goads, repeating it more menacing as you fight against his hold, nodding in satisfaction when you finally relent, “Yeah—now and don’t you fuckin’ lie to me, you left that door open because you hoped I would, right? Stop tryin’ to act so innocent, girl.”

It ignites a fire in you, the demeaning monaker that transforms into enough strength to fist your hands into his shirt and shove him into the reclining chair positioned behind him, a heavy grunt releasing from his chest as you stumble over his boots and into his lap.

“Don’t call me that,” You seethe, not amiss to the immediate instinct of Joel’s to catch you, thighs bracketing his right leg as his hands squeeze your waist, keeping you upright.

Joel speaks your name, almost taunting, “S’that better? Or is that little crush your harboring hopin’ I’ll call you somethin’ a little sweeter?”

You feel the weight of his thumbs as they curl into your belt loops, body swaying with the motion as you take a seat on his lap, ass pressed against his knee and you watch as his chin gradually moves to rest against his chest, his eyeline following your movement.

“Don’t call me anything,” You retorted, his eyes flicking up under a heavy gaze.

Joel was simmering with a controlled rage, his hands squeezing at your hips as he jerked you forward suddenly, your hands grasping onto the back of the chair over his head, the friction at the seam of your denim as it rubbed against your clit, nestled between slick folds that couldn’t hide the arousal you were feeling, how the heat that radiated off of Joel made you sick with want.

“Alright,” He agrees, “then go on ‘head, get off me.”

Something tells you it is definitely a trap.

A moment later, you can feel his fingers gripping around your backside, digging into your ass as he pushes your hips backwards once before slowly guiding them forward, your sneakers scuffing against the hardwood as your lips parted, a silent breath slipping out.

“Go on—get off,” He taunts, the double-entendre making your brain go fuzzy.

“Joel,” It was a weak attempt to tell yourself and him this was a bad idea, but with the pleasure swelling in your core, it comes out more relaxed - you moan his name and Joel hears it.

“You ain’t good with words, but you can show me,” He remedies, the subtle movement as you grind against his leg, denim on denim but you’re almost positive he can feel how wet you are through the fabric, or how the shared heat was almost sweltering, “rub that pretty pussy on me.”

You have half the mind to snark at him, but think back to his eyes on you on the other side of the bathroom door, how he had admired without guilt, no truer words having left his mouth.

Guiltily, you lean against him, forearms resting where your hands were previously gripping, aiding in the quickening pace of your hips as you breathed softly into his ear, one of his hands slipping under the fabric of your shirt, palm spread wide over your back as the chair creaked with the shifting weight.

Your breath hitches, a sharp gasp as Joel’s calloused fingers rub against your spine. The friction against your clit is overwhelming, intensifying with every roll of your hips under his guise, the desperate need for release building in your core, quietly aware of the weight of Joel’s cock through his jeans, hard and neglected.

Your hand slowly moves toward the button on his jeans, ghosting over the swell of his cock before his fingers grip your wrist and return them to their original spot, “This ain’t for me,” He reminds you, “Keep goin’—show me how bad you need it.”

His words spur you toward the ledge you were teetering on, movements increasingly more wild and frantic, soft noises gradually becoming louder as his hands roam your body, the one on your back remaining as a constant while the other roams toward your front, squeezing gently at your breasts through the flimsy bralette, his thumb brushing pointedly over your nipple as you moan.

“Fuck, I’m c—close,” You warn him, blindly finding his hair with your right hand, squeezing at the strands as he grunts, head tilting back against the chair as you moan brokenly, a sob escaping your mouth.

His voice carries you through, his voice enveloping every point of your existence as your orgasm starts and crescendos, “That’s it,” He coos, “s’alright, let it out.”

You obey, weak whimpers cry into his neck as you hide away, hips grinding lazily through the aftershocks as his arms wrap around you silently, holding you steady as the sound of your ragged breath fills the room alongside the quiet chirping of nocturnal animals.

“Gonna write about this later?” Joel teases, whatever hostility he was holding earlier now non-existent, clearing his throat as you lean back, ignoring the obvious thick and permeating tension that was blanketing you both, still unaddressed.

“S’not funny,” You respond, climbing off him unsteadily before you turn your back to him and gather your belongings into a pile and shove them back inside your pack, “You weren’t supposed to see ‘em.”

“We’re partners—you think keepin’ secrets is smart?”

“It’s harmless—and what about you?” You begin, suddenly settling back into your own quiet rage, “Sneaking around, watching me? I notice shit too, Joel.”

Joel sits in quiet contemplation, his permanent scowl growing deeper as his knuckles rub at the spot where your cunt previously was, “Alright—new rule.”

Your eyebrows raise in anticipation, never really prepared for what Joel ever had to say.

“I ask questions, you answer ‘em. For every one you answer, I’ll answer one too.” Fair enough, you think, but then he continues, “It stays between us, alright? And if you want something—ask for it. No sense in bein’ shy ‘round me anymore.”

Not after that.

Baby steps, you say to yourself. 

The thick air between you seems to open, like a weight off your chest.

“Alright,” You reply softly, “I can do that.”

Joel leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes intense as they lock onto yours. "So, those notes. How long you been writin' 'em?"

You smile with a newfound giddiness, though still mostly subdued, biting at your cheek to stop the spread of your grin, shaking your head as you lock down at the stack of postcards stuffed into your bag.

“Only since we got paired up,” You admit, “every other night or so. When I can’t sleep.”

Which was often.

He grunts, processing the information as you fiddle with the strap of your pack.

“Is it my turn?” Joel nods quietly, shifting back in the chair, ignoring the slowly waning bulge in his jeans that he would surely deal with later, “Well—how long have you been watching me? Or, well–why?”

“That’s two,” Joel chastises, but there was no real bite behind it, “Since you came to Jackson, figured you weren’t good—”

You know what he means—mistrusting, suspicious. 

“Does it bother you—that I do? You scared of me?”

You shake your head shyly, avoiding his gaze.

It was the darkest, most sinister parts of Joel that drew you in.

“I think you’d be terrified of the things I like about you, Joel.”

Joel doesn't respond outright, but his subtle grin is enough confirmation for you. He knew exactly what you meant.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I was in a car accident yesterday (car took most of the damage, I’m ok other than bruises and sore muscles) and the whole thing has been a whirlwind of insurance and hospital and half asleep crying. I was wondering if I could request James potter x reader for comfort in a situation like that? I’m going through it rn lol hope you’re having a good day :)

Oh I'm sorry lovely! I had a very similar thing happen a little over a year ago, it's sooooo exhausting even when luckily no one is seriously hurt. Thanks for requesting, hope you're having a good/better day too <33

cw: past car accident, no details but talk of general aftermath of police questioning, insurance, etc.

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 799 words

The way James half-jogs up to the automatic doors of the hospital, seeming caught between walking and running, feels like someone is pressing down on the bruise of your chest. You wish you’d called him sooner. 

“James,” you call as he comes in, hating how your voice cuts through the taut quiet of the waiting area. It’s worth it for how his whole self softens when his eyes find you. 

He slows to a fast walk the rest of the way to you, the urgency slowly leaving him—which is appropriate, there is no urgency, everything has happened already—like an engine running out of gas. You stand as he nears, and both of you reach for each other before James hesitates. His hands stop midair, his brow tightening for a moment, before they come tentatively to your elbows.

“Hi,” he says, squeezing. “How bad is it?” 

“For me or the car?” you joke. 

“You.” James is feeling too earnest for joking, it seems. “Well, both of you. But you first.” 

You really thought you’d cry when you saw him. Worried you’d make a whole scene, blubbering and inconsolable, but you don’t seem to have any tears left. It makes sense, you suppose; you’ve cried a lot in the past few hours. First the slow, shaky kind right after getting out of your car, and then a real cry when a police officer had pulled you aside to get your version of events. (It had been embarrassing. She’d been nice about it, though.) Now, you wait for the tears to come, but for all your relief at seeing your boyfriend you feel rather dried up. 

It makes you wish, once again, that you’d called James sooner. You’d wanted to, of course, but you’d been nearly certain you’d be even less capable of holding yourself together if he were there, and there wasn’t much reason for him to be anyways. He was at work and you weren’t terribly hurt, so there was really nothing he could have done while you were talking to the police and the tow company and the paramedics and attempting not to drown in an overwhelm of insurance information. The only thing you really wanted him for was to hold your hand.

“I’m okay,” you say, the necessary preface. “A bit bruised up. My chest got the worst of it.” 

Unconsciously, your hand comes to your sternum as if to demonstrate, gravitating towards the center of the ache. James’ hand follows, seemingly just as thoughtless as it covers your own. He can’t see the bruise, but he makes a low, sad sound anyway. 

His care softens your voice. “They said my neck will probably hurt tomorrow, but it doesn’t yet.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James sounds really, truly heartbroken for you. “And the rest, it hurts a lot?” 

You shrug. What’s a lot? You know you could’ve had worse, much worse; still, you could do without that frightening soreness that comes with each breath. 

“It’s not too bad,” you say. “I could still hug.” 

It’s the question he’s been dying to ask, clearly. James’ arms are around you in a second, ardent but still gentle, palms pressing to the high and low points of your bag. It’s a good hug. You melt a little against him. 

James tucks his face into the side of your neck, like he’s trying to get as much contact with you as he can. “I wish you’d called me when it happened.” 

“You were at work.” 

“I’d have left work.” 

“There wasn’t anything you could do. I was fine, I just had to…” a little sigh escapes you, exhaustion creeping in now that he’s here “...talk to people. Insurance and all that.” 

James makes a soft, half-agreeing sound. His thumb strokes the base of your neck. “Still. I could have held your hand.” 

A new ache rises in the back of your throat, coming to join the rest. You wind your arms tighter around James. 

After a few, silent moments, he kisses your neck chastely and loosens his hold. “Ready to go home? Anything else you need?” 

You shake your head. “I’m signed out,” you say, so eager you feel like you could float out the doors. You hope you can entice James to lie in bed with you when you get home. You think you’ll sleep until tomorrow. “Let’s go, please.” 

“Alright, you don’t have to say please, sweetheart.” James curls an arm around your shoulders, pressing a smile into your cheek. “We can go. You need one of those wheelchairs for me to take you out to the car?” 

“Ha ha,” you say drily. “No.” 

“Just checking. Think maybe I ought to ask for one, just in case?”

“James. I will take your car home without you in it.” 

“Alright, lovie, I’m coming.”

[businesstiramisu]

my tags:

#ironically this specific issue is one that Linguistics 101 has been known to convince people on#not everyone ofc (you still get people handwringing about websters 3rd sometimes and it's been 60 fucking years)#but explaining linguistic descriptivism to your average over-eager undergraduate grammar pednat usually does the trick

responding tags from @stardew-bajablast:

#<— prev#as a former ‘over eager undergraduate grammar pedant’ myself i can attest to this#literally watched one (1) video about linguistic descriptivism that i stumbled upon on youtube#was like oh shit i’m actually being a dickhead and wrong on top of that#i feel like esp in the digital age with texting people are more receptive to the fluidity of language#although i say that having just scrolled by a screenshot of a tweet in scots and tons of replies complaining about ‘bad grammar’#and ‘why can’t you just type normally’ -_-#so maybe we haven’t advanced as much on this issue as i would have thought

Thank you for sharing! It was very nice to get a reblog corroborating my claim that this does work sometimes. 😛 I think I must have had a similar epiphany at some point but I don't really remember it. I did take an introductory linguistics class in college though which remains very influential on my mindset and interests.

(Also thank you & lol for correcting my typo on "pedant".)

To the actual point of OP though... I do agree, in some cases. And in even more cases, that whether or not it's possible, it's not worth derailing the conversation, getting people's back up, picking a fight. I still think it's worth learning more*, both so that you know for yourself & so you have good arguments available when it is worth it, but frequently it's better for you to just think "wow, wrong" and move on with your life. We can't all be Brennan Lee Mulligan

*on this specific issue, two good places to start: languagelog on when and why prescriptivism is bad (and good!), paintingthegreyarea (h/t allthingslinguistic) with a personal account of unlearning pedantry and a broader view of its harms.

when i was younger i used to believe that you could make anyone understand anything if you explained long enough and hard enough but then one time i said "who would have thunk it" to a classmate in college and she turned to me with such sincere disgust on her face and said "it's who would have thought" and i took five seconds to contemplate how i could possibly convey to her why i said it that way and i came up empty and that was the first crack in the windshield

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[gayfrogs7]

MAGA: You're wrong! And I'mma sit here and call you slurs and threaten your death!

Me: Can you explain with insulting anyone why I'm wrong?

MAGA: *dead fucking silence*

Me: Okay... So I'm right.

Like you can't just keep telling people they are wrong with no evidence to back that up, and if you can't have a single conversation with evidence you may have without insulting me or anyone else the whole time I'm just going to assume that you don't have anything worth saying.

Be nice for once, people might be willing to listen. My DM's are open if you want to nicely talk to me about why you believe I'm wrong with things that aren't just opinion but fact.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????

[aardelea]

How does he react to catcalling?

Hey there!

Thank you so much for your request, and my sincerest apologies for how long this took—I’ve been completely swamped with work and just couldn’t find the time to get to it sooner. I really hope the Anon who originally asked for this still gets to read it!

I have to admit, I struggled a bit with this headcanon. I’ve experienced catcalling myself, but never when someone was with me. And since everyone reacts differently and the circumstances are always unique, it was quite challenging to figure out how each character would realistically respond. That said, I hope the final result still resonates with you.

Since your lover’s reaction would largely depend on how you respond, let’s assume for the sake of simplicity that everything happens so quickly, you don’t even have the time to react.

Happy reading! 😊

You finally have some free time and decide to go for a stroll through the city—maybe grab a bite together or run a few errands. Since there's no convenient way for you to head there together, you agree to meet directly in town. The designated meeting point is a public transit stop, where you’re already waiting in a great mood, excited to see your boyfriend.

However, your mood quickly sours when a young man approaches, flashing you a sleazy grin. He whistles and, as he gets closer, says, "Hey there, sweetheart. Nice ass." He smirks as he walks past, completely oblivious to the fact that, at that very moment, your man is approaching from the opposite direction.

Jin

Frustrated that he wasn’t there in time to prevent the situation altogether, Jin doesn’t waste a second. He immediately steps in front of the guy, blocking his way.

The stranger halts in confusion, swallowing any irritation he might have had about nearly bumping into someone—because Jin’s icy stare alone is enough to freeze him in place. Without a word, Jin grabs him by the collar and yanks him toward you, none too gently. Whatever the guy tries to stammer out is ignored. Once he’s standing right in front of you, Jin simply states, “Apologize.” He doesn’t even need to use his Stigma—the demand alone is enough to make the guy comply.

How long this ordeal lasts depends entirely on the stranger. Jin won’t be satisfied until the guy is on his knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. And if he needs a little extra motivation? Well, a swift nudge to the knees or a none-too-gentle smack to the back of the head should do the trick.

Even if you try to intervene, Jin won’t let up until he deems justice served. Once he’s finally satisfied, he lets the guy go, casually drapes an arm around your shoulders, and walks off with you. “Never settle for second-rate. You’re worth more.”

Tohma

A true gentleman, Tohma takes care of his lady. No random punk is going to get away with dumping his unresolved perversions on you. He strides up to the guy, blocking his way with his usual unreadable grin. Outwardly, he looks calm, but inside? He’s absolutely seething.

"Well, well. What do we have here? Surely I must’ve misheard. It almost sounded like you said something wildly inappropriate to the lovely lady behind you." The guy just scoffs and replies, "Dude, are you deaf? Get outta my way, three-eyes."

Tohma sighs theatrically. “And here I was, hoping we could handle this the easy way…” You watch as he leans in and whispers something in the guy’s ear—something you can’t quite hear. When he pulls back, he’s still grinning, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. The guy, however, stands there frozen for a solid few seconds before quickly turning to you, bowing deeply. "I deeply apologize, ma'am. My behavior was highly inappropriate. I wish you a pleasant day." His eyes flick nervously toward Tohma, who only smirks and says, "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Without hesitation, the guy scurries off. Tohma turns back to you, offering his arm with an easy smile. "Shall we, beautiful?"

Luca

Luca is a man of honor. There’s no way he’d ever let something happen to you under his watch. That’s why he’s frustrated—no, downright disappointed in himself—for not arriving earlier to stop this from happening in the first place.

Without hesitation, he steps in front of the guy, blocking his path. “That is no way to speak to a lady. Not in Japan, not anywhere in the world. Apologize.”

"Dude, what’s your problem? Move," the guy snaps, attempting to push past him. But Luca isn’t budging. At first, he still seems composed—polite, even—but his gaze darkens with every second. "Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time," he says, his voice lower now. "Apologize for your unacceptable behavior. Or I’ll make you."

The stranger hesitates when he notices Luca’s hands clenching into fists. Begrudgingly, he turns to you, gives a half-hearted bow, and mutters an apology. Then, glaring back at Luca, he asks, "Happy now?" Luca’s only response is a cold, "I better not see you anywhere near her again." He doesn’t even bother watching him leave—his attention is immediately back on you, making sure you’re okay.

Kaito

Kaito might call himself a coward, but his actions tell a different story. When it really matters, he always pushes through his fears. And seeing you in distress? That’s more than enough to make him act.

Is he scared? Absolutely. Does the idea of a confrontation terrify him? More than anything. But will he let that stop him from standing up for you? Never.

Whispering a few words of encouragement to himself, he clenches his fists, marches up to the guy, and grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. "What the hell do you think you’re saying to my girlfriend?! Apologize!" His attempt at a deep, commanding voice comes out… well, more like a high-pitched shriek.

The guy barely spares him a glance before slapping his hand away and walking off with a dismissive, "Man, you’re nuts." Kaito, now fuming, yells after him about how he clearly has no manners and must’ve been raised by wolves. After throwing in a few extra insults for good measure, he rushes to you, wrapping a protective—and slightly trembling—arm around your shoulders. "Are you okay? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Please tell me you’re okay…"

Alan

Just as the guy turns to leave, he suddenly collides with something—or rather, someone. Hard. He stumbles back, landing unceremoniously on his ass, cursing loudly. "Dude, watch where you’re—" His words die in his throat the moment he looks up and meets Alan’s impassive stare.

The guy sees nothing but blank indifference. But you? You know Alan better than most. And you can tell he’s barely keeping his fury in check.

"Do you think that’s an appropriate way to speak to a woman?" Alan asks coolly, unmoving. The guy quickly shakes his head. "Then apologize." The silence stretches as the guy hesitates—until Alan’s voice cuts through the air again, sharper this time. "Now."

The guy scrambles to his feet, turning to you with a deep bow, stammering out rushed apologies. "I-I’m so sorry, miss, that was incredibly rude of me… I didn’t mean to…" Alan steps closer, his gaze still pinned on him. Once the guy finally finishes groveling, Alan simply says, "That’s enough. Leave."

As soon as the guy scurries away, Alan steps to your side, his expression softening just a fraction as he looks at you. "Are you alright?"

Sho

Even though Sho is usually a pretty laid-back guy, he takes your well-being very seriously. If you show even the slightest sign of discomfort after what just happened, he will react immediately.

In his usual relaxed manner, he approaches the guy, casually placing an arm around his shoulder as if they were old friends. With a not-so-gentle turn, he maneuvers the startled stranger toward you.

“She really is quite attractive, isn’t she?” With these words, they stop right in front of you. “Why don’t you tell us what else you find so great about my girlfriend? Please, I’d love to hear your opinion.”

Judging by how intimidated the guy looks while futilely trying to escape Sho’s grip, you almost feel sorry for him. Almost. “This is a huge misunderstanding. Seriously, man! I didn’t know she had a boyfriend!”

“I don’t see how that makes anything better. Come on now, apologize.” … “S-s-sorry.” The stranger’s stammering is barely comprehensible, and any confidence he had before is completely gone. After some further insistence from Sho, a somewhat coherent apology finally comes out. Sho then pushes him away with a “See? That wasn’t so hard,” before turning back to you. “You really do attract these kinds of guys like a magnet, huh?” he teases as he casually drapes an arm around your shoulders and starts walking toward the city center.

Leo

Leo knows exactly the type of guy with that sleazy expression and can sense what’s about to happen before it even unfolds. Since he can’t prevent it, he decides to take a different approach to protect his girlfriend’s honor. He pulls out his phone and starts a livestream—just in time to catch the guy’s sleazy remark.

“And this, my dear viewers…” He switches his camera to selfie mode, filming himself with a cheerful expression as he moves in sync with the stranger, casually throwing an arm around his shoulder so that both of their faces are in the frame. “… is exactly the kind of pathetic guy who thinks it’s okay to harass women. Say hello to our audience, loser.”

“What the…?” The moment the livestream comments start flooding in, the guy realizes what’s happening. Panicked, he wriggles out of Leo’s grip and bolts. “Looks like he’s suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, huh? So, ladies watching this stream—watch out for this guy. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

He abruptly ends the livestream, and by the time he reaches you, he looks visibly upset. “I seriously can’t take my eyes off you for one second, can I?” His tone is sharp, but you’ve been with Leo long enough to hear the concern beneath it. He glances over his shoulder one last time before turning back to you, wrapping an arm lovingly around your waist.

“Come on. You get to choose which restaurant you’re treating me to.” Before you can protest, he plants a kiss on your forehead, and for just a split second, you catch the softest, most affectionate smile on his lips.

Haru

Haru is naturally a peaceful person who avoids conflicts whenever possible. However, he also has a strong protective instinct, so he would step in immediately if he saw someone—especially you—being harassed.

Since he prefers a calm approach when dealing with people (except when he’s with friends), he quietly walks up to the stranger, placing a hand on his shoulder. His demeanor is more de-escalating than threatening.

“That’s really not a good way to treat someone. Don’t you think you should apologize?” Unfortunately, even the best advice rarely gets through to people like this. The guy angrily slaps Haru’s hand away and snaps at him to keep his hands off.

Haru sighs, watching the guy walk away with a disappointed look before turning to you and gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Are you okay?” He will spend the rest of the day trying to distract you from what happened, making sure to give you plenty of sweet compliments—careful not to make them too suggestive—so that this experience doesn’t taint your perception of receiving compliments in the future.

Towa

Since this scenario takes place in broad daylight, I assume Towa isn’t able to speak properly just yet. He may be a free spirit who doesn’t always follow societal conventions, but he immediately recognizes the situation unfolding before him.

Without hesitation, he strides toward the stranger, roughly grabbing his shoulder and letting out a deep, guttural growl (you know the kind of sounds Towa makes—there’s no easy way to describe them). The guy quickly yanks himself free and glares at Towa. “Are you out of your mind, attacking me like that?”

This is the moment when Towa’s gaze darkens completely, and as if on cue, the entire sky follows suit. Rain begins pouring down in sheets, and lightning strikes all around you. The stranger panics, breaking free and sprinting off to find shelter. You could swear the lightning bolts seem to follow him as he flees.

Thankfully, you’re standing under an awning, and as Towa approaches you, his intense expression shifts into one of deep, heart-wrenching concern. If you want the storm to subside along with his mood, you’d better reassure him that you’re okay.

Ren

One might assume that Ren wouldn’t notice an incident like this because he’s glued to his phone, but he actually pays much more attention to his surroundings than people think.

Annoyed, he puts his phone away and steps directly in the stranger’s path, visibly irritated. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You really think it’s okay to talk to women like that?”

The guy looks intimidated at first but quickly recovers his arrogance. “And who do you think you are, talking to me like that in the middle of the street?” Ren, unfazed, remains perfectly calm. He knows his height and build give him an advantage, and while he would never willingly get into a physical fight, he uses his presence to his benefit. He deliberately squares up to the guy, emphasizing the size difference.

Combined with the cold look in Ren’s eyes, his tactic works. The stranger hesitates, then turns back to you, muttering a quick, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” before slipping past Ren and vanishing as quickly as possible.

Ren smirks slightly, satisfied with the outcome, then walks over to you with a more serious expression and pulls you into his arms. “Just ignore guys like that. They’ve got nothing going for them except a big mouth.”

Romeo

No one. I repeat. Absolutely no one except Romeo himself has the right to throw any kind of compliments at his property his beloved. Especially not suggestive ones. Just because he always tells you to keep your head high and learn to stand up for yourself doesn’t mean he lacks a protective instinct.

Accordingly, one of Romeo's legendary outbursts of rage comes to light, which he directs straight at the stranger. "What the hell do you think you're doing, talking to my wife like that, you miserable piece of trash, huh?" Romeo wouldn't rule half of Sinostra if his demeanor wasn’t absolutely terrifying and intimidating. He will most likely have the same effect on the stranger. If yelling doesn’t work, Romeo doesn’t hesitate to draw his weapon. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s aimed it at someone.

Similar to Jin, he will make the stranger apologize in the most humiliating (and, for him, the most degrading) way possible. The only difference is that Romeo will keep shouting at him the whole time and threaten to ruin him and his entire family if he ever hears that he’s misbehaved in any way again. Even if it’s just carelessly throwing a cigarette on the street instead of using a proper trash bin.

As the stranger runs off, nearly sobbing and looking back now and then to make sure Romeo isn't following him, Romeo doesn't spare him another glance. Instead, he turns to you. "I certainly hope you’re not intimidated by such a pathetic maggot. Let’s go. He’s wasted enough of our valuable time."

Taiga

As Taiga approaches and observes the situation, an uncontrollable rage builds up inside him. He quickens his pace and makes a point of standing tall as he nears the scumbag.

Before the stranger can turn around and continue on his way, Taiga loops his arm around his neck while passing him, forcing him back in your direction with sheer strength. From an outsider’s perspective, the gesture might look friendly at first, but the stranger's face tells a different story as he realizes Taiga is just one move away from choking him into unconsciousness.

"Oh yeah, she’s a real cutie, isn’t she?" he says in a low voice as they both move toward you. Though Taiga's words are directed at the young man, and his tone carries an unmistakable threat, his gaze remains locked on you, a clear, sadistic grin on his lips. "Too bad for you that she’s my cutie."

He continues to push the stranger forward until they both stop in front of you. Panic is written all over the man's face as he seems to sense Taiga’s thirst for blood just as much as you do. Taiga releases his grip on his shoulders and instead grabs the nape of his neck, digging his nails into the man's flesh, making him stare at you with both terror and pain in his eyes. "Don’t be shy. What do you say when you’ve disrespected a woman?"

The young man stammers out apologies, becoming more remorseful the tighter Taiga's grip gets. He only stops when the stranger sounds sufficiently pathetic in his ears. "Do you accept his apology, kitty cat?" Your answer will determine whether the poor guy gets away with just a scare or spends the night in the hospital.

Ritsu

As we all know, Ritsu is the type to always carry both his voice recorder and his camera. As he observes the scene in front of him, he doesn’t hesitate to pull out his camera and snap a picture of the man passing by.

The guy looks at Ritsu in confusion, then walks toward him angrily, asking in an aggressive tone why he took a picture of him.

"I simply took a photo of my beautiful girlfriend," Ritsu replies to the accusation of photographing him without permission. "Unfortunately, there's also some guy in the frame who just made some inappropriate remarks toward her. What a shame." As always, Ritsu remains calm during the exchange.

When the man protests that "it’s not illegal to talk to women," Ritsu nods in agreement. "True. However, now I know your face. And if I ever hear that you’ve broken the law in any way—even if it’s just a parking violation—you can bet I’ll make sure you pay for it."

The guy stares at Ritsu in disbelief and suddenly looks very nervous as he abruptly turns and hurries away. Ritsu pays him no further attention and calmly walks up to you. Before greeting you as usual, he asks if you’re okay and thenoffers his arm as you both continue toward your destination.

Haku

Haku is a pretty laid-back and calm guy. Instead of resorting to physical violence, he prefers to use words. Nevertheless, he absolutely despises seeing his princess being harassed by sleazy men. And even Haku can get a little rough sometimes.

As he walks past, he places his hand on the stranger’s shoulder, turning him toward him. His grip is firm enough to stop the man from walking away. "Hey, don’t you think your behaviour was completely inappropriate? Do us all a favor and apologize to her."

Haku doesn’t have an imposing height or an extraordinary build, so the stranger probably isn’t too impressed by his words. He roughly pushes Haku’s hand away. "It’s none of your business how I talk to women. Do us a favor and scram." As the guy turns to walk away, Haku casually calls after him, "Oh, so I’m just imagining things when I say your grandmother is utterly ashamed of you?"

The stranger hesitates, turning back briefly, stammering, "How do you…?" before scurrying away even faster.

Haku then turns to you, making sure you're okay. Depending on your mood, he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you remember this day in a positive light. Casually, he drapes his arm around you as you walk together. If you ask whether he really saw the guy’s grandmother's spirit, he just smirks mischievously and says, "Who knows?"

Subaru

Subaru is a calm and peaceful guy. While he reacts immediately to imminent danger without hesitation, he has never been one to engage in open confrontations. So, in this situation, he would focus more on comforting you than dealing with the stranger.

Since Subaru avoids touching people, he wouldn’t physically stop the stranger from walking away. On top of that, he feels uncomfortable being recognized as an actor. Despite his growing fame, it seems to have made him more self-conscious rather than confident.

Nevertheless, Subaru is clearly angry and addresses the stranger with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "That kind of behavior is inappropriate and clearly made her uncomfortable. You should apologize."

"And what, you think you’re her knight in shining armor? Piss off." With these harsh words, the man walks away.

Subaru doesn’t waste any more time on him and instead turns to you with a concerned expression. Whatever it takes to cheer you up and distract you, Subaru will do it.

Zenji

Let’s assume that Zenji is alive in this scenario, as his current situation obviously prevents him from taking any real action. Although he is an optimist who believes in the good in people, he is not someone who lets others walk all over him.

At first, he approaches you with his usual cheerful demeanor, but his expression darkens quickly when he sees the scene unfolding before him. After hearing the stranger’s passing comment, Zenji strides straight toward him and deliberately stops in his path, forcing the man to halt and look at him.

"It is unbecoming to behave this way in front of a lady. You should apologize to her." Zenji's tone is unusually serious, and the look in his eyes is something you rarely see in your friend. However, the stranger seems unimpressed and asks Zenji what his problem is for suddenly confronting him.

"Can’t you see that your words made her uncomfortable? You still have the chance to make it right." Unfortunately, this type of person is rarely moved by morality, and Zenji’s words have little effect. Laughing, the stranger turns away and walks off.

Zenji watches him for a moment, his initial anger fading into slight disappointment. Then he turns to you, pulling you into a reassuring embrace and checking if you’re alright. He apologizes for not being there sooner, so you wouldn’t have had to go through this situation in the first place. Some people just seem to have lost their way.

Rui

In the past, Rui would have immediately confronted the man, calling him out on his behavior without a second thought about the consequences. He would have been firm but never aggressive, relying on his natural charm to coax an apology out of the stranger. After all, he considers himself a pacifist. However, if things had escalated, I doubt he would have simply let it go—and he might have resorted to physical force if necessary.

But things are different now, and Rui is painfully aware of it. Under no circumstances would he risk a physical altercation where he might, at worst, end up killing his opponent. That’s why he swallows his pride and sense of justice, standing by silently as the man walks past him without a word.

Visibly worried, Rui approaches you and immediately asks if you’re okay. The worse you feel after the encounter, the more it reflects in his own expression. He will apologize over and over for not being able to do anything, and no matter how many times you reassure him that it’s alright, he won’t stop doubting himself and his worth in your relationship.

You should keep in mind that this man would do absolutely anything for you if he could. Even though you are the victim in this situation, and depending on your personality, you might be struggling mentally as well, don’t forget to check on your partner. He is suffering right along with you.

Ed

How in the world did you manage to get Ed out of the house during the day? Or to get him moving at all? This must be true love. As he watches the scene unfold, a faint grin spreads across his face, and he eyes the stranger carefully while walking toward him.

"Well, well, a textbook chauvinist. I thought speaking to a lady like that was outdated. Don’t you think an apology is in order?" The stranger stares at Ed, perplexed by his old-fashioned way of speaking. "What do you want from me? You talk like my grandfather. Get lost." With that, the man turns away and walks off.

"Take care! Even in a beautiful country like this, it’s not as safe as you might think." Ed calls after him. The stranger briefly glances back, asks if Ed has a screw loose, and then continues on his way. All the while, Ed hasn’t stopped grinning. The way he watches the young man leave is eerily similar to a predator studying its prey before striking.

"Shall we?" Ed asks, holding out his parasol invitingly so you can stand under it with him. "Don’t worry. People like him always get what they deserve sooner or later. I believe you call it karma here." You already have a sinking feeling that what awaits the stranger has nothing to do with karma. Whether you choose to bring it up with Ed is entirely up to you.

Lyca

Lyca is still adjusting to life among humans and the social norms that come with it. However, he has had a strong sense of justice for a long time, so the moment he sees someone speaking inappropriately to you, he immediately steps in.

He tries to rein in his anger, as he has learned the hard way that people often fear him when he gives in to his wilder instincts. No matter how despicable the stranger is, he is still human, and Lyca has likely accumulated some emotional scars from past rejections. The last thing he wants is to add another one to the list.

"Hey, that’s not okay," Lyca says as he approaches, stepping directly into the stranger’s path. "Apologize to her." "And you shouldn’t just talk to strangers out of nowhere, so I guess we’re even," the man replies dismissively, turning away to continue on his way.

Lyca watches him go, and for a brief moment, you see him start to lift an arm as if to stop the stranger. But halfway through the motion, he freezes and lets his arms fall back down in frustration.

He clenches his fists for a second before relaxing them again and walking over to you. He asks if you’re alright, making sure to call the guy an absolute jerk for speaking to you like that. Even though Lyca sounds normal, you know him well enough to see that he’s deeply frustrated about not having done more. A few comforting words might help him.

Yuri

Coming from an well cultured background, Yuri would never allow a woman’s dignity—especially his own woman’s—to be insulted like that. His rage is evident as he turns to the stranger, his voice booming. "How dare you address a lady in such a disgraceful manner, you worm?!"

The stranger seems startled by Yuri’s sudden outburst but ultimately remains unimpressed. "No need to yell, man. I was just giving the lady a compliment."

"You call that a compliment, you simpleton?! Apologize at once!" Though Yuri usually prides himself on handling matters with a level head, it’s clear that he’s struggling to keep his composure. The stranger snorts derisively and walks past him. "What a lunatic…" you hear him mumble as he leaves.

Yuri glares after him for a moment before turning to you. With quick steps, he reaches you, protectively wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Pay no mind to that coward. Some men simply have no idea how to treat a beautiful woman properly."

Jiro

Jiro is unfamiliar with common social conventions, so there’s a good chance he won’t immediately recognize the situation for what it is.

Since there is no immediate physical threat from the stranger—who simply walks past after making his inappropriate remark—Jiro might just stare after him in mild confusion before turning to you and asking if you know the guy.

What happens next depends entirely on your reaction. If you’re visibly shaken or uncomfortable, Jiro will immediately pick up on it. He’ll ask you if the man did something bad to you, and if you say yes, he’ll offer to "take care of him"—which, knowing Jiro, would be done in the most terrifying way possible.

If you act as if it’s no big deal or say it doesn’t bother you, Jiro won’t push further and will simply continue with your plans for the day. However, if you explain to him what catcalling is and why it’s inappropriate—or if you struggle to hide your discomfort—he will definitely remember this situation. The next time something similar happens (though hopefully, it never will), he won’t hesitate to react much more… forcefully.

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY • JEY USO

author’s note: did someone say new mini series ? 👀 well yes! although writing is gonna be quite slow due to school starting backup, I wanted to leave you guys with something cute starring our 2025 royal rumble winner jey uso🤭 forgive me for not giving you smut in this first part but trust me when I say it’ll be worth it in the long run. I hope you enjoy this my loves, and happy reading💗 (p.s. I made a playlist to go along with it, you can shuffle it up too🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ you can find it here)

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem oc!cherise aka candy

tags: 18+ (there’s no smut but still has suggestive themes), slow burn, drinking, lap dances, lewd conversations, teasing, lots of touching, kissing, pet names (baby, mama, pretty girl. baby girl), flirty banter, jey falls for her at first glance.

word count: 2k words (somethin’ short n sweet😌)

The bass reverbs through the strip club, rattling the walls like a second heartbeat. The air was thick with marijuana smoke, spilled drinks, and anticipation. It was the kind of place that dared you to loosen up, a melting pot of the desperate, the indulgent, and those just looking to forget about the realities of their day to day lives.

Jey, sitting on the edge of a low velvet couch, nursed a glass of hennessy, his dark brown eyes surveying the scene with feigned disinterest. Jimmy, on the other hand, leaned back beside him, grinning like the damn Cheshire cat, a few shots in and already loving every second of the night.

“This the spot, Uce,” Jimmy drawled, gesturing at the stage. “Told you. Ain’t no better way to celebrate your Rumble win than seeing a few bad ones tearing it up on the stage.”

Jey wasn’t convinced. He leaned forward, elbows on his jean covered knees, his silver chain glinting in the low light. “Man, you know this ain’t my scene. I only came ‘cause y’all don’t shut up. Coulda stayed home, kicked my feet up, and played my game.”

Jimmy clicked his tongue. “Nah, Uce. This is a night of celebration. Tonight’s the night we get you to let loose.” He raised his glass in a mock toast.

Across the room, Trinity —or her stage name called her—Naomi. The long-legged, dark skinned goddess with waist-length black & neon green braids and thighs to die for worked her magic. She straddled some middle-aged white guy in a button-down, grinding with a confidence that made her the club’s crown jewel. She caught Jimmy’s eye and gave a sly smile with a wink for good measure.

“Yo, there she go!” Jimmy grinned, practically bouncing in his seat. “My girl, Trin. You see that, Jey? That’s art. Respect the glow.”

Jey rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smirking. “Bruh, you actin’ like she your girl for real.”

“She is though,” Jimmy shot back, the grin never leaving his face. And it wasn’t a joke. He wasn’t even subtle about it. Whenever Jimmy showed up, Trinity made a beeline for him, and they always disappeared into the VIP section.

Jey chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You wild.”

But his attention shifted when the next dancer strolled onto the stage.

“Alright fellas, hold onto your Benjamin’s ‘cause it’s about to get sweet up in here! Coming to the stage, she’s sugar, spice and everything nice, with curves so delicious you’ll forget your own name. Be careful though, she might leave you with some cavities by the end of the night. Give it up for the lovely Candy!”

The second she stepped out, the crowd of men leaned forward, like hungry sharks. She wasn’t like the others though. She was new, fresh-faced, and a bundle of nerves. But that didn’t matter right this second. She played the part, masking her shyness behind a seductive smile that could melt anyone with a pulse.

Candy was beyond gorgeous. Her smooth, brown skin shimmered under the stage lights, and the crimson two-piece she wore clung to every dip and swell of her body. Her hips swayed to the R&B song, deliberate, teasing.

“Goddamn,” Jimmy whistled low. “New girl got somethin’ fierce, huh?”

Jey was speechless, he couldn’t look away. Her curly hair was pulled into a updo, soft coils framing her soft, heart-shaped face. Full lips painted glossy pink parted into a playful pout as she ran her hands down her figure, playing to the crowd. But her eyes. Those big, dark, and doe-like eyes held a hint of innocence she couldn’t quite shake.

“Yeah, somethin’ for sure,” Jey muttered under his breath, heat pooling low in his groin.

Candy noticed him immediately. She was used to clients ogling her—most of them practically drooled or disgustingly grabbed their crotch in front of her—but he was different. He had this calm, magnetic energy, like he was letting her come to him. It made her stomach flip, even as she forced her most sultry grin.

When her set ended, and the applause faded, Candy slipped off the stage. But not before glancing over her shoulder and locking eyes with Jey.

♡

"You heard who's out there tonight, right?" Trinity grinned, her deep brown eyes glinting with mischief as she adjusted the thin straps of her bra. "You about to be real blessed, baby girl."

Cherise arched a perfectly sculpted brow, feigning disinterest. "Oh yeah? Who?"

Trinity sucked her teeth, nudging her shoulder. "Don’t act cute, Cher. The man of the damn hour is in VIP. Your VIP, might I add."

Cherise played coy, but her stomach did a little flip. She’d already heard that Jey Uso was here tonight. And apparently, he was her very first private dance.

Her pulse raced.

"He cute or whateva,” she said, glossing over the fact that she was a fan. She’d watched him claw his way to being a singles star. And now he was here, in her club, about to have her in his lap.

Trinity laughed, low and knowing. "Oh, he real cute, baby. And he got that mouth on him. Knows how to talk to a woman, make her feel good." She winked, nudging her shoulder with her own.

Cherise rolled her eyes but smiled. "You sound like you speaking from experience."

"Nah, Jimmy got my full attention," Trinity purred, licking her lips. "Speaking of which, you know that man is gonna be deep in this pussy before the night over. So if you hear me any noise, mind your business."

Cherise giggled, shaking her head. "Y’all so damn nasty."

Trinity flipped her braids over her shoulder. "Mmhmm, and you 'bout to be nasty too. Just don’t let Jey have you falling, mama. These wrestlers? They dangerous."

Cherise smirked. "I can handle myself."

Trinity just laughed, giving her ass a playful slap before strutting off toward VIP.

Cherise exhaled slowly, fixing the sheer, sparkly robe draped over her curvy figure.

Showtime.

♡

The VIP room was warm, lit with soft purple lights that shined against the dark leather couch and mirrored walls. Private, sensual. The kind of space that invited sin.

Jey sat in the middle of it, legs spread, shades still covering his eyes, hands resting on his thick thighs.

He looked too good, too comfortable, like he belonged there with his chains glinting under the dim lighting. And he was waiting for her.

Cherise stepped inside, hips swaying slow, the confidence she wore so well settling around her like perfume. She was used to this, knew the game, knew how to keep them entertained just enough to keep ‘em hungry. But this was Jey.

And she already knew—he was different.

Jey’s gaze dragged up her body, slow like drizzling honey, lingering on her thick thighs, the way her curves filled out the soft red lace she had on. He smirked, licking his lips. "Damn, mama… that’s what they lettin’ you walk around in back here?"

Cherise stopped in front of him, rolling her hips to the bass-heavy R&B music vibrating through the walls. "You like it, baby?”

"Shit…" Jey let his head tilt back against the couch, eyes dark, hooded. "I love it."

Cherise bit back a grin. "Flatterin’ me ain’t gon’ get you nothin’ extra, baby."

"Who said I was tryna get somethin’ extra?" He grinned. "I’m just speakin’ my truth.”

She let her hands trail over chest, feeling the solid warmth of him and the occasional thump of his heartbeat. "Mmm…I bet you be runnin’ game on every girl in here.”

"Nah." Jey licked his lips. "I’on even be in places like this, baby. My brother dragged me."

"Mmhm." She slid onto his lap, her thighs bracketing his, their faces inches apart. "So if I ask the bouncers how many girls you pulled back here, they gon’ say none?"

Jey exhaled a laugh, fingers flexing on her hips. "They gon’ tell you I been sittin’ in that VIP all night, mindin’ my business."

Cherise hummed, her fingers playing at the chain around his neck. "So what makes me special then?"

Jey tilted his head, watching her close. "You tell me, baby girl." His voice was deep, lazy, smooth as melted honey. "I ain’t the one who picked this dance. You did."

She smirked. "That’s cute."

"Ain’t it?" His grip on her hips tightened, dragging her a little closer. "Nah, for real, I can tell. You move different. You one of them girls that don’t let just anybody dude here, huh?"

"Mm-mm." Cherise dragged her nails lightly over soft curls on the back of his neck. "I’m picky."

"Yeah?" His fingers slid up her back, teasing at the base of her spine. "How I make the cut then?"

"I dunno…” She let her lips brush his jaw, just barely. "Maybe I got a thing for wrestlers."

Jey chuckled, low and deep, squeezing her waist. "You watch me, huh?"

"I keep up."

"Ain’t that somethin’." He leaned in, pressing his nose against her cheek. "And here I was thinkin’ I had to make you a fan."

"Mmm, you still might have to work for it." She pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, slow and teasing, right before she rolled her hips against his.

Jey sucked in a breath, his grip turning just a little rougher. “Aye, don’t play wit’ me, pretty girl.”

"Who’s playin’?" She dragged her lips down his throat, slow and deliberate, her hands traveling up his body, feeling the soft tonedness of his stomach. "You like that, Joshua?"

Jey froze.

His hands tensed on her ass, and she felt the shift, the way his whole body reacted to the way his real name left her lips.

"Damn…" He exhaled a quiet laugh, pressing his forehead to hers. "That’s how we doin’ it, huh?”

"Mmm…" She kissed the corner of his mouth. "That’s how I’m doin’ it."

"You somethin’ else, Candy…” His lips grazed hers, barely there, his breath warm against her mouth. "You gon’ drive me crazy, ain’t you?"

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see."

Jey groaned, squeezing her thigh. "You know what’s wild?"

“Enlighten me.”

"You sittin’ on me, talkin’ shit, got me damn near ready to risk everything in this bitch… and you still ain’t tell me your name."

Cherise laughed, slow and sweet, sliding a hand up his throat to his jaw. “You ain’t ask right."

"Oh, so I gotta ask nice?" His lips ghosted over hers again, teasing, taunting, barely touching but still driving her crazy. "That what you want, baby girl?"

"Mmm… maybe…" She let her tongue flick out, just barely tasting his lower lip.

Jey growled, deep in his throat, and finally…finally closed the space, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was slow, deep, and damn near dangerous.

Cherise melted into it, letting herself enjoy the way he tasted—Hennessy, something minty, something just Jey. His grip on her waist turned possessive, fingers digging in the flesh of her ass, rolling her just right against him.

His tongue slid against hers, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to memorize her taste.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Time’s up!"

They both froze.

Jey groaned, pulling back, licking his lips like he was pissed about the interruption. "Damn…"

Cherise smirked, slipping off his lap, dragging her fingers down his chest as she stood. "Guess you’ll have to come back if you wanna finish."

Jey leaned back, legs still spread, watching her. "You somethin’ else, girl."

She paused at the door, hesitated then turned back, biting her lip. "Cherise."

"Huh?"

"That’s my name."

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watched her walk to the door. She gave him one last look with a small smile perched on her kiss-swollen lips, “Get home safe, Joshua.” and finally exited the room.

"Cherise…" he repeated under his breath, the taste of her cherry flavored lip gloss still plaguing his taste buds in the most amazing way. "Yeah, I’ma see you again, baby girl.”

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[cleoselene]

don't doomscroll, DO SOMETHING. Don't complain, TAKE ACTION. here are things you can do:

call your Congresspeople. If you are living in a Democratic district, this is so easy! Tell them how YOU want them to fight! Don't just sit back and complain that "Dems in congress aren't doing what I want." CALL THEM AND TELL THEM WHAT YOU WANT. EMAIL THEM. And be nice about it, lead with the illusion that you trust them to do the right thing. "I know you don't really want this to happen, you're a good person!" methodology.

If your reps are like mine and horrible horrible monsters like Byron Donalds, then you have to make your phone calls differently. You gotta strategize these. There are two ways to do this: 1) be incredibly angry and aggressive, but filibuster about it. Don't give them any ability to get off the phone. Don't curse or insult, just properly outraged. The key here is to WASTE THEIR TIME. I spend about 45 minutes on the phone with one of Rick Scott's people once. The other way, i think is more effective, but this is better than nothing. The other way, 2) is to frame the specific issue you're calling about from the most conservative angle possible. If you're calling to support Ukraine, cry about how your daddy fought in 'Nam to stomp out communism, now you want to let a KGB guy like Putin bring back the Soviet Union? Act super fucking scared of communism. Say the words "KGB" and Putin together over and over. Talk about how America doesn't roll over for Russia, not now, not ever. This is just an example of a particular issue, but it can apply to any. My mom calls it the "sandwich technique." Lead with a compliment, then say what you really mean, and end with a compliment. People get tricked into changing their minds.

I realize this is tumblr so if you are really really that phone-phobic, apply this to email. But really, this is worth making the call for. The call cannot be fully ignored. An email can.

Join the class action lawsuit against the government for Breach of Privacy if you have Social Security or Medicare, and tell people you know who do to join it.

get involved at the local level. Agitate at city council. hell, RUN for city council. I promise you that no matter how unqualified you think you are, less qualified people have run and won. There was a town that had a golden retriever as its mayor for a while. You have to start thinking locally. You have to start doing things ALL THE TIME, not just every 2-4 years. This isn't just voting, but making your voice heard. That tumblr post about ten people showing up at a council meeting being able to change thing significantly? True. "But I live in a red area!" yeah, so do I, and that makes it even more important, since they're doing shit like banning books in schools here.

Run for office!! I just said that, but seriously, run for office!! AOC was a bartender before she got where she is now!! If I were not completely disabled, I'd do it. If you don't feel like it's for you, think of the people in your life who are capable who might be persuaded!

Focus on the real enemy. It's Republicans. It's not Democrats. Like I said, if you're unhappy with the way your Democratic rep is doing things, TELL THEM. Sitting outside the party and criticizing accomplishes nothing, it only weakens our only opposition party in this country. If you want to talk about third parties, MAKE ONE THAT'S VIABLE. But realize that will probably be decades of work. Stop complaining and start doing, start reaching out to the people who at the moment have some ability to do things and influence THEM. You can say a lot of things on the internet and expect to change the world, but you won't. (Yes, I realize the ridiculousness of me posting this on the internet, but I will be doing things, too, not just shouting into this void)

[steddieas-shegoes]

guilt fades, scars remain

written as part of @st-loveconfessions february kindness event for today: write a fic based on art! the moment I saw this absolutely stunning art by @stervrucht, I knew I had to get some words out. @runninriot also wrote something inspired by this art and it's just as stunning as the art itself, you can find that here!

rated m | 1031 words | cw: blood and injury | tags: eddie munson lives, steve rescues eddie, eddie has a crush on steve, pre-relationship, open ending but assume they're getting together

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The tears drip. The rain hits the roof. The sweat builds along his hairline.

Eddie’s alone. He’s scared. He’s sick of feeling pain everywhere.

“Eddie?”

The voice is back. He should be happy. Hearing Steve’s voice is a relief compared to what he’s been feeling for so long. He’s not even sure how long he’s been stuck here. Hours, days, weeks?

Years?

“Eddie.”

The voice is clear, but it’s always clear. Sometimes it’s far, sometimes it’s close. It sounds worried, but talking back to it doesn’t help.

He’s sure of only one thing: Steve Harrington’s voice is a balm on his nerves and patience alike. If he can’t have the real Steve saving him, he’s glad he at least has his voice in his ears.

Cool hands are covering his naked chest. It feels so nice, like an ice pack on an injury.

He supposes he does have an injury. Probably a lot if the shooting pains across his side and legs are anything to go off of.

“Eddie, hey.”

Eddie blinks. His vision focuses.

“There you go. Keep your eyes open. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry we kept you waiting so long.”

Eddie’s got tunnel vision, which is weird for a hallucination. Or maybe it’s not. He’s only done shrooms once and he barely even hallucinated before he passed out.

Eddie reaches one hand up to try to feel if Steve is real. He touches bare skin and he laughs.

“‘S fake.”

Steve’s got a lot of hair on his chest, he remembers from when he jumped into the lake. He remembers thinking how nice it must be to fall asleep on his chest, run his fingers through the soft hair there.

“What’s fake?” Steve asks.

An interactive hallucination is very strange, but it’s a nice distraction from the pain. It fades in and out like the intro and outro to songs. He’s gotta figure out how to put this into music.

“You,” he answers. There’s still no other voices and there’s no way Steve would rescue him alone. No one would let him come down here alone. “Me.”

“We’re not fake, Eddie. I knew we should’ve come back sooner. You’re fuckin’ delirious,” Steve sounds panicked now, and Eddie doesn’t want that. Hallucination Steve should be relaxed.

“Calm. Hurts, but calm.”

He’s being lifted up slowly and he’s sitting for the first time since the bats started trying to eat him. Feels a little weird, something internally screams, and then he realizes he’s actually screaming externally.

Steve’s trying to keep him calm and quiet, shushing him as he pulls him to his shoulder, hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s nice, smelling something that’s not the stench of the Upside Down or his own blood. Feeling something human where all he’s known is dirt and ash.

“It’s gonna hurt for a few minutes, but it’ll be worth it,” Steve’s saying in his ear.

Eddie raises an arm. It hurts. It’s not as bad as when he sat up, but it’s more pain than he should be feeling.

He must make a noise because Steve’s burying his nose into Eddie’s hair and it feels intimate in a way that doesn’t belong here. This place is broken, Eddie is broken, and Steve is stable.

“I’m gonna lift you up. Is anything broken?” Steve whispers against the side of his head.

Eddie hopes he remembers all of this. He hopes when he wakes up— if he wakes up— the first thought he has is about Steve touching him like this, making him feel alive and precious, worthy.

He must’ve answered Steve because he feels the ground fall out from under him and then searing pain in his side. Steve’s carrying him and he’s going to black out from the pain.

“Just a few minutes. Just hang on a few minutes. For me, Eddie,.”

Eddie can do anything in his dreams, so he hangs on for a while and then everything goes dark.

++++

“Eddie.”

The voice again.

It’s not clear this time, but he knows it’s Steve.

“Eddie, wake up.”

He blinks his eyes open and immediately closes them again, whining at the obnoxious bright light right in his eyes. If heaven is this bright, he’s not interested.

“Sorry. Let me turn those off.”

Steve’s voice is clearer now, sinking into his brain as the memories start to float back to him. Steve saved him. Steve showed up in the Upside Down shirtless and-

“Where was your shirt?” Eddie asks, voice raspy and trembling. He sounds as weak as he feels.

“My…shirt?” Steve asks.

“Y’were naked,” Eddie continues. “Nipples everywhere.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh and Eddie is going to combust. Making Steve laugh might be the best thing he’s ever done in his life…or death, if he’s dead.

“I was using it to stop the blood on your leg,” Steve explains. “It was still bleeding.”

He sounds…haunted.

“Did I die?”

Eddie focuses on Steve, the way he holds himself as if he’s in trouble, the way he won’t look directly at Eddie’s face. He’s guilty, but Eddie can’t imagine why.

“No. I don’t know how, but no.”

“You saved me.”

“I was almost too late.”

Eddie hums in protest. He’s too tired to argue, but he knows he’s right. Steve saved him. It doesn’t matter how long it took, or how many shirts were ruined in the process. He’s alive.

“C’mere,” Eddie whispers.

Steve steps closer. Eddie manages to grip his shirt, not tight, but enough for Steve to look down and then back up, finally settling on his face.

“Y’did good,” Eddie says. He closes his eyes hoping that’ll conserve energy to say what he needs to. “Thank you.”

“Eddie-“

“Sit. Sleep.”

He’s not sure if Steve listens because he’s already drifting back out of consciousness, but he can feel the weight of Steve’s hand in his and he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna let go.

When he wakes up, he still feels Steve’s hand in his.

His eyes flutter open to see Steve asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Shirt on, unfortunately.

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

liar

Summary : love is not an easy to admit, are you ashamed of it?

Warnings : MDNI 18+ Rockstar!Eddie Munson x FEM!reader, cursing, unprotected sex, self-sabotage, mentions of pregnancy, loss of virginity, slight sprinkle of readers uncertainty in her relationship, insecurity, low self-esteem, miscommunication, heated arguments, that's all! :))

What to Expect : SMUT, ANGST, FLUFF, the story goes back to past and to present, set in the 1980's and let's pretend Paramore existed back then lol

Note To Reader : I haven't made a Eddie fanfic with a Paramore song and I literally love them both, so, this is my chance! 🥰

Author Note : this been sitting in my drafts for way too long now, I have to cook this up and hopefully you will enjoy it! 🥺

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

❣ AGATHA'S MAIN PAGE ❣

1986 : The Record Label approves Corroded Coffin

"Where is she?!?" Eddie heavily breathes as he whipped his head everywhere to catch a glimpse of your figure but none seems to show

"She was here a minute ago- hey, what's going on?!?" Gareth wipes his beading forming sweat on his forehead

"Jeff!" He shouts out loud he did not mean to capturing everyone's attention in the bar

He looked at his panting friend who places his palms over his knees as he heaves air on his chest, confusion is written all over his face as he walks up to him

"Dude, are you okay-" he bend slightly to meet his gaze as he places his hand over his friend's shoulder as he dismissive his hand at him

"Y/N, where is she?" The desperation is clear to his eyes, this night was supposed to be eventful but it didn't worked out the way he thought it would be

"I-I saw her hopped into the taxi with a suitcase" Jeff stammers as he looked over at Eddie's shoulder someone is approaching them

"W-What?!? a suitcase?" He exclaims but before he could ask again, a familiar voice called out to him

"Eddie!"

"Harrington-" He furrowed his brows at him

"She told me to tell you-" he cuts him off, Steve took a deep breath before saying that could scarred his friend forever

"Tell me what?" He demands as he directly looked at him

"She's leaving" ❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❦❧❦❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦

1990 : Present Day

Fuck

Yeah, seriously fuck

It's been 4 years since the last time you ever laid eyes on him, is it just you or he looked like as if you're in the top of the world

Does he still loved you? until now?

Shit, you feel guilty for what you have done, selfish as it sounds, you save yourself first

But, at what cost? is it worth it?

.....if you could put down your pride, just speak the damn truth....no, it's not worth it

You regretted everything

and now, he's here accidentally bumped into your grocery cart in the dairy aisle at the supermarket

You discreetly put the milk slowly on the cart as you stop eye contacting to him, completely nervous to see him again

"Y/N? is it really you?"

You speak without looking at him, "y-yeah"

He quickly walks up closer to you as he tries to get your gaze back to him, you take a step back slightly as he spoke again, "I asked for this"

That's where you look back at him, "What?"

"I wished and asked that I get the chance to finally see you again"

He saw the guilt flicker in your eyes, you swallowed hard, the beating inside of your chest went fast forward

"It's been 4 years, Y/N, I-I just wanted to know what happened to...." He trails off as he sighs, "To us" he gestures his finger to you and to him

You know he deserves to know

It's your own goddamn fucking pride is what should be shut down

You just look at him and blink as you ignore his question as you move past him along with your cart

"Y/N! what-"

"It's nice seeing you, Eddie"

"But-"

"Goodbye"

You said it without sparing him a glance as he stare at the back of your head as he follows your figure walking away

He took a step forward as he hesitates to tail you, he sighs as he scratches the top of his head trying to understand what made you act this way

He doesn't even recognized you, it's like you changed

It may be 4 fucking years ago but still he is starting to get pissed off

Pissed off at the fact that you are simply trying to avoid him or get away from him as much as possible

He had rewind his memory to every moment that has happened in your relationship together, if he missed out on something that you displeased you

You could've addressed it to him not acting weird like this

He self-reflected but still there is this feeling that you're hiding about something but what is it?

But still, even the heights of this circus series of life events, he remains the same old Eddie, very patient and most of all very selfless

One of the workers at the supermarket asked him to move aside as they tried to place products on the shelves that made him snap out of his train of thoughts

He continues on his errands, once again, he saw you there, already at the check out, he deflated, you didn't react that way before to him like that and it confuses him

What the hell happened?

❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❦❧❦❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦

1984 : Prom

"Eddie!"

"What?"

You rolled your eyes playfully as he brings you closer to him holding your waist gently

You always loved how unserious he was as he stopped peppering you kisses on your whole face

You both swayed to the slow music playing at the background as he spoke again

"I've never thought that I could attend something like this"

"Yeah?" He raises both of his eyebrows as he uses his freehand to caress your bare shoulder

"To be clear, I don't hate it until I met you, now I am getting to understand why everybody else loves this" you say enunciate your point as you look around in the gymnasium

"I have no plans either, everything changed when I met you too" he says with so much certainty

"Really?" You bring back your gaze to him with hopeful look on your eyes and his heartaches how you sounded so in disbelief

"Are you kidding? you should've been the queen of the night! somebody bribed the damn thing" he dramatically exclaims as he gestures at one of the popular girls who always won every year

You laughed as you push him by the chest as he heartily chuckles

It's true, everyone's eyes are on you, Eddie reassures that you look in fact absolutely mesmerizing, he knows that you're so self-conscious and you're thinking too hard about it

"Y/N, you're so freaking beautiful" he says without a doubt as he cupped both of your cheeks

Your high from your laughter slowly died down abruptly but the smile has never left in your pretty face

You melt within his touch as you close your eyes as you place your hands over on top of him

"I....I love you" he declares it as he happily chuckles, he's so certain of it by the tone of his voice

You open your eyes and the tears starts to prick, "E-Eddie"

He shushes you, "I just wanted you to know that, it's true, sweetheart"

You slowly blink as you try not to shed any tear as he hugs you

❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❦❧❦❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦

1990 : Present Day

"Y/N, what-" he abruptly stops as he saw your expression

The cold features are sitting rightly on your face as the man stood before you as he dart his eyes back and forth at you and back in the grocery store

He watches as you aggressively put the paper bags at the backseat of the car, he clears his throat, "Who got you so crabby all of the sudden-"

"Get in the fucking car, Steve, I'm not in the mood-" you say to him as he can feel your eyes stabbing him as if he's the one who got you pissed off

"Y/N!"

Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he followed the familiar voice who is jogging on the way to you

"Oh shit"

"You can say that again" you say as you slam the door shut making Steve flinch in the process as he breathes out as places his hands over his hips

"Y/N, please, I just really need to talk to you-"

"Eddie, I seriously have to go now"

"Whatever it is that I've done back then, I am truly sorry!"

Steve looks at him in apologetically as he licks his lips, "Y/N, have a heart-"

"Don't start with me, Steve, get inside of the car!" You hit the hood of the car as you point an angry finger on him making Steve's jaw clench at your stubbornness

"Y/N, we've talked about this" Steve shakes his head as he motions to his old friend

Meanwhile, Eddie is puzzled to almost like sibling argument as he spoke once again, "What is it that you both talked about?"

That's when you both stop bantering at each other as you exasperated sigh as you and Steve share the same knowing look that you're trying to avoid for 4 years

"You can't escape this, Y/N!"

"Goddamn it! just drop it-"

"Give him a fucking chance!" Steve shouts back not giving a care to the people who are overhearing this conversation

Steve had enough of it, he is so done with being considerate with you, you need this confrontation

All he ever does is to be a good friend to you but he can't just fucking tolerate this behavior of yours especially when Eddie has never done anything wrong to you

Eddie didn't know that Steve was eating up a lot of conscience for keeping a very personal and delicate information about you

But, this isn't his problem, this is your life, but also he can't help but to meddle with your stupid decisions

"You gotta stop this, Y/N" Steve scratches his chin as he spoke through gritted teeth

"I am a little lost here-" Eddie shifts his foot sideways as he looks both of you for answers

"Your girlfriend is a fucking coward, that's what" Steve punctuates the word making his point as he exaggerates it

You glare at Steve who doesn't even give a shit about that look that you're giving to him

"Fuck you, Steve"

"See? What the hell are you even doing? You're running away again"

You're not going to be cornered not this time, not ever, you will put the pin back on the grenade, you can't say it out loud now

You fumbled with your keys as you finally get inside of the car

"Get out of the damn car, Y/N, we are not finished here" Steve says at the window of your seat as you stare at him

"Back off!" You yell as you flip him off as you ignite the engine, he surrenders as he looked at you in disappointment

You accidentally stare through Eddie's eyes, swirling in so much longing, longing for you

You almost faltered but you decided against it as you drove away

"This is bullshit, she's going to tell you the truth one way or another" Steve crosses his arms as he watches your car in the distance

"Tell me what?" Eddie appears in front of him with perplexed expression

"What happened back in 1985"

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1985 : Making it Official

Mascara's running down, your lipstick is smeared, your eyes are watery, your hair is a fucking mess as Eddie got you folded into half as he thrusts into you like his life depends on it

Your clothes are scattered everywhere in his room and so does his, he is so sexy, aggressive and gentleman at the same time, the way he handles you, he understands what you needed and your wants, he prioritizes more of your enjoyment and pleasure rather than his

You don't know how absolutely you feel of the way he's treating you like this, you feel so freaking special like it's so uncommon for you and also felt wrong for you to be treated nicely

He always said that you deserve it, you're worth it, you're capable of being loved and you will always will be loved, he's trying to remove that thing out of you

That you're always telling yourself that you're unlovable

He will be the first and last to you, a few guys here and there before him trying to hit on you, it's a big no for you, the only man that can only have access to you is him and it makes you feel a lot of emotions, you feel euphoric but also you felt you're about to cry

One big loud moan escapes your lips as Eddie groans when you don't stop clenching around him

When he kept that same rhythm and motion over and over your moans started to stagger as your mouth hanging out as your eyes roll back as you lift your hips to catch that sensation

He grunts, "Fuck, Y/N" he looks down as he watches his member slipping in and out of your pulsating cunt so smoothly and easily sheaths back and forth as he kisses you hungrily making you squeal and writhe beneath him

He swallows your moans as he pants as he bottoms harder into your core, he lift your wobbly arms as he goes deeper to you as you bring your legs to lock him in place and pull him closer to you

"aah- Eddie!" You croak out as you breathy sigh and whimper, he moans as he says your name and praises you

Your eyes starts to feel heavy as you feel him everywhere, the sinful sounds of both of your bodies slapping and the squelch makes you even more wetter and you can't deny that it's turning you on

"Shit, you feel so good"

"Oh my god! Right there!"

"Yeah? You like that?"

"Don't sto-p p-please!"

He removes the hold from your arms as he lay it over his shoulders as you held him onto your dear life

He grips your hips tighter, you know you can't fucking walk for days or he will absolutely leave marks on there but you don't care, you feel like jelly

His eyes scans over the shades of purple spots are all over your neck and especially on the mounds of your breasts actually before he doves into you, you're already so worked up when he took a mouthful and kneaded your boobs so naturally

You chant his name when you tell him you're getting closer and does he as you arch your back as he lets out a guttural groan as your moans turned into high pitched tone as he sloppily kisses you, he rolls his hips once more spilling his load to your velvety walls

"Can't believe that you're my girlfriend" he says muffled as you can feel his smile at the crook of your neck

You chuckle as you try to reconnect with the earth

Both of you are breathing heavily as he collapsed on top of you as you instantly wrapped your arms around him, embracing him as you inhale his scent making you sigh in content

He gets up abruptly with the fear on his eyes, his eyes goes all over, you missed the way he looked at your stomach worriedly

You're not in the right headspace to find out what's going on as your brain feels like a mashed potatoes

"What's wrong?" You say lazily as you half-lidded awake

"I-uh- we should've used protection today, sweets"

"Oh...." you say as you take his hand in yours as you moved closer to him

The silence is deafening him and the nervousness grows even more bigger

"It's fine, Eddie, I loved how you feel inside of me"

"Y-Yeah?"

"Yes, Eddie, I do very much" you say as you yawn and he can see you're fighting off the sleep but still he needs confirmation that you're alright of what just happened

He blushes as he took a sigh of relief, "I-I am still sorry-" he immediately apologizes but you cut him off by saying

"I don't care, if you didn't pull out, I...love...you"

You left him with that as you fastly drifted to sleep, he is dumbfounded of what you just said to him, it's the first time ever you said that to him and he blinks one or twice he lost count but he just smiles as he admires you as he removes your hair out of the way from your face as he kisses your forehead

He pulls out of the covers as he carefully put blanket over to your body and his as he lift your head so you can lay over his arm as you mindlessly get comfortable from his warmth he smiles yet again when you lay your hand against his chest

"Oh, Y/N, how I love you so"

*Months later on that same year*

You feel nauseous everytime you eat, you didn't tell Eddie about it, but you've been like this for weeks now, you're having thoughts when you shouldn't be worrying about

But somehow, you're monitoring it, and it shows that you have possible signs of..... let's not go there

Eddie is so laser-focused on his music career and he's getting so well on it and you couldn't even more proud of him

A true artist, the attention to detail on every guitar chords that he's strumming and music sheets that are splayed all over his bed everytime you come over to his house, you've been so supportive of him and you always uplift no matter what happens, he works hard and he's saving up for everything that you both needed

He won't stop until he feels 100% satisfied with his work, he's very meticulous and the important of it all is that you're honest when he shows you a sample of his music, if you don't think it's a good record then he will write another set of songs, that's how much he trusts your opinion and it's like you're a part of his band, you watching them grow and help together, they're still act playful and being so goofy every so often when they're together but when it's about their goal? they're locked in with the mission to be recognized as real artists

Not some schmuck desperate rock band as the town would say

Yeah, you're brutally honest when it comes to this

But, what about your feelings?

"Eds, I'm going to take the restroom in a jiffy" you say as you swing your purse over your shoulder

He nods as he squeezes your hand, "You okay, sweetheart?"

You flash in a small smile, "Yeah, I'm fine, I think, I'm just tired is all"

He whispers, "Okay" he goes back canvassing music equipment in a department store

You finally have the restroom to yourself as you clutch in with your purse as you took a deep breath and you take out the oh-so-familiar device that indicates whether you think you are indeed carrying a child or not

You lock yourself in the stall and disinfect the toilet as you sat on it and pull down your underwear as you let your urine take a few drops on the mark

You clean yourself up as you get out of the cubicle and place the device on the neat surface of the sink as you wash your hands

You stare at it, you didn't take your eyes off it as you reach for the paper towel and you know it will appear for a few minutes

You see the one line already as you wait for the other one, you bit your lip as your knees start to bop out of your forming anxiety

The knock on the door startled you, a small gasp fell out from your lips

"Y/N? honey? are you done? I found the one that I like and I need your thoughts about it"

"Uh, yeah, just give me a second!"

You freshen up and keep it cool as you retouch your lipstick, you glance at the device and you did a double look on it

You picked it up as you slowly bring it closer to you for a better look, the second line is faded until it comes out it full color as you stumble slightly in your stance as you look yourself of your reflection in the mirror, it's positive

You're pregnant

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1990 : Present Day

"You're fucking insane"

"Trust the process, man-"

"She can't even just talk to me!"

Eddie mutters "sorry" to the people who are dining in the café

"It won't work" he whisper-shout to his old friend who is stirring his cup of coffee

"It will work" he corrects him as he takes a sip of his coffee

"When you say it, it sounded so easy-" Eddie scratches his head as he grumbles leaning backward at the seat

"You have to do it, Eddie, it's both for your own good" Steve tuts him as he states his point as he raises a finger at him

Eddie listens carefully as he sighs and nods at him to continue

"All you have to do is to corner her, she is strong-headed but I feel you're her weakness, she can't even stand you the moment you both just got reunited after 4 years" He throws his hands up as he scoffs as the scene earlier replays on his mind

"Harrington, I'm sorry-"

"What in the hell are you apologizing for?"

"For bringing you into this mess of mine" Eddie huffs as his eyes wandered around the diner as he watches people coming by

No, actually, it was you who brought up Steve into your goddamn business, but he didn't mind at all but a part of him is also feel like a bad friend for not saying the truth at all to his greatest pal that only to be reunited in this way when he wished it was other way around not like this

He also wants to fix this, it's been long overdue and he been keeping this for 4 years

"Hey, Munson"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens to you and Y/N, when you find out what really happened back then, if you did get mad at me, I understand and I deserve that and it's not my place to speak for her, she's the one must tell everything to you not me"

He listens intently as he tips his head slightly, "Well, I appreciate you for being honest"

He smiles then as his eyes lighten up, "Thanks, man"

Steve told him that you mostly walk at the park every Sunday at 8am, he said is the only peace time you have and then go back to your usual schedule

Eddie was sitting over a bench like half an hour until he straightens up seeing you there as you took in the sight of the river

He slowly get up and walks towards to you, he takes in a deep breath before he prays in his mind that this hopefully ends well

"Y/N?"

Your heartbeat stopped at the sound of his voice, you thought you're only imagining it as you slowly turn around to see the man right in front of you as he kept a personal space between the two of you

"What are you doing here?" You say as you look behind and sideways scarily

"I wanted to talk to you-"

"That's not gonna happen" you say plainly as you begin to walk off leaving him behind once again

Steve's right, you're a hard one to hold to stay put in place, "Y/N! you can't even give me a chance to speak!"

"What's there to talk about?!?" You argue as you continue to walk with the scowl on your face

He huffs with a laugh, "You can't get rid me off like this everytime-"

"Oh, yes I can!" You fight back as you stomp faster as he kept up with the pace

"Why are you dodging it?" The frustration on his voice is clear and it fuels you more

"You're fucking infuriating!" You reason with him, god, you can feel you're losing it, your time is out, you can't get away this time

He laughs in disbelief, "Wow? I am infuriating?!? and so are you!" He points to you as he breathes heavily

When you fall silent as he keeps following you, all you do is just briefly glare at him as you both walk past by people

"This is fucking getting out of hand, sweetheart, stop it" he says firmly as he shooks his head sideways

"Don't tell me what to-" you counter

"Stop it, I say!" He commands and before you open your mouth and he beats you to it

He goes right in front of you, blocking your path as you tried to get out of the way

"Look what the fuck what you're doing, scurrying away the moment when things get serious"

The tears began to prickle and sting behind your eyes as you try not to let him hold you, he hesitated everytime he really wanted to touch you, "Don't push me, Eddie-" you scoff

"Nah, I'm gonna push you once and for all, sweetheart, you're not going to win this time" your heart drops when he takes a grip tightly on holding both of your shoulders as you try to get out of his grasp but it won't budge

"Fuck you! Eddie, step away-" you cuss him out of your anger as the tears are threatening to spill anytime soon

"Stop being so difficult and just tell me!" His voice cracks and for a moment your face faltered, he saw it, all you need was a push

"I ain't got nothing to tell you!" One tear escaped from your eyes as you angrily wipe it off

"Oh yeah? What about what happened in 1985? you're not physically okay, I've never asked what's going on but I fucking know for sure something is up"

Your chest tightens when you look at him in the eyes and you can see he is determined to know what happened back there before

"N-No-" you stutter as you can't form any words after that, you have no more reasons to blew him off, you lose

He knew?

"I might be in a tight schedule in that timeline but I never overlooked of what's going with you, sweetheart, you can't fool me" he looks down at you with the same adoring eyes, it feels 1984 all over again and your stomach churns of what's coming

Your lips began to tremble as you look at him, you can't look away now, he's got you

"I know you still love me, Y/N, you're just being in denial"

"N-No, I don't-"

"What are you holding back from?"

You frown at him as the angry tears starts to roll in your cheeks as you hit his chest as he still kept holding you

"You don't remember it but I do, it was only one time you told me and I never stopped believing"

You know exactly what he's talking about

The night that you both made love for the first time

"I fucking hate you-" you cry out as you grab a fist from his shirt as you muffled sob in his chest

"We both know that's not true" he softly says as he pulls back you to look at you

The fire in your eyes has simmered down, only what's left is the fear in your eyes

"Why did you left in 1986?"

The words caught up in your throat as you gulped to his question

No, you can't lie to him anymore

"I-I was scared" another fresh set of tears cascading down as he wipes with his thumb

"Scared of what?!?"

"I was afraid!" You sniffled as you wept in front of him as you angrily ripped off his warm hands to your cupped cheeks

He looks at you as he waits for answer patiently, you try to muster up

"I was afraid of you finding out" you swallow as you duck your head down in shame

Before he asks again, in the corner of his eye, someone is running up to you

"Mommy!" the little girl with arms open wide as the small hands making a grabby action insinuating for you to pick her up

You whipped your head to scrouch down in front of your baby girl as you greet her as you manage to make a small smile as you kissed the crown of her head

Eddie knew his intuition but still he is taken aback from the revelation

You slowly meet his gaze, you thought you will see pure hatred towards you, but there was none

All you can see he is glad as you can see the corners of his lips turned upward to form a contented smile

The little girl is unbeknownst to the man who is looking at her with love on his eyes, she tilts her head as she waves at him, Eddie shyly waves back

"Okay, I'm done with cuddling" you chuckle as you put her down as she ran off playing with the other kids in the park

Eddie's eyes are fixed on his daughter and the giggle of her voice are such a blessing to his ears as he smiles at it

Your breaths are shallow as you can see him moving closer beside you

"She's beautiful"

"Yeah" you whisper

"Beautiful like her mother" he says as he looks at you as his eyes twinkle

The guilt creeps into your eyes as you're the one who takes his hand into yours as you became stunned when he gently squeezes it

"E-Eddie, I am so sorry, I know it's unforgivable for what I've done, I-I'm just so terrified-" you ramble as he dismissive his hand at you

"Of what? if I ever find out that you we're pregnant?"

You nodded and the hope is clear in your eyes, "I was mortified if you ever find out that you will..." you trail off as you shake your head

He lifts your chin up to meet his gaze once again, "I will?"

"In 1986, you brought the news to me that you're accepted in the record label and I tried to tell you so many times but I really couldn't bring it up to you and I didn't wanna be a burden on your dream, so, I just left" you sob as you close your eyes and you feel the weight of your shoulders finally eased out

"Oh honey, you will never be a burden to me" he kisses your hands as you let him embrace you

At that point, he understood what Steve meant to him at the diner last night and it doesn't matter to him anymore

All is forgiven, what's important to him that he's got you and you're back with him

The wait was worth it as he smiles down at you as he caressed your head

You pulled back with uncertainty in your eyes, "Do you hate me?" He knits his eyebrows at you

His eyes softens, "I can never hate you" he tucked a piece of hair into your ear

"Do you hate me?" He brings back the question to you as he pulls you impossibly close as you lock your eyes with his as he looks down at your lips anticipating his next move

"I lied to you, you always knew the truth" he lets you finish as he dives in

He captured your lips as you feel lushed pressing your chest against him as you throw your arms to kiss him back, melting as both your mouth and his collided to one another

"And that is?" He reaches back to peck another kiss to your lips as you smile at him, your heart is soaring as you both glance at your girl as you bring back your eyes to him as you confidently admit....

"I love you"

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 24

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n hi. it's me. i'm back. i don't have any excuses to make.

please also check out daybreak, posting weekly from now on (yes i did write an entire smau instead of queenmaker and sit on it for almost six months)

previous | masterlist | next

---

Comeback approaches like a hurricane; it's there, developing in the corner of your eye just off the coast of your island, and then all at once it is here, and it is so all-encompassing that you're not even sure where here is anymore.

Comeback. Debut. The most important day of your life. One of those.

 Time starts to fly by; schedules and practice and filming and every so often the chance to sleep or to grab something to eat with the others. It drags at your coattails, sticks itself to your feet and settles like a weight upon your shoulders, but you can't stop. There are performances to film, and then there is a concert that you are missing so much of the choreography for, and even when all of that is over, you are headfirst into award season and special performances and group activities for the company and-

First, debut. Second, everything else.

The camera sits on the table in front of you, staring with one dark, unblinking eye as a brush darts across your face, erasing all your imperfections. It fills your stomach with a funny kind of fear, small but poisonous, stinging when you think about turning it on - you've managed to put it off so far, waiting until your face was made up to at least avoid having to see your own naked skin reflected back at you in the viewfinder. No one else wanted to see that either, you're sure, after the things you've read and...well, the experiences you've had in the past. It's good to know your limits, after all.

That excuse is fast running out now though, and the time to go up towards the stage is drawing closer with alarming speed, and if you don't capture any footage before that happens, you're in some real trouble, no matter how loudly Seungmin and Felix are churning out hours worth of content on the other side of the room.

It takes real, deliberate effort to lean forward and turn that camera on once the makeup artist proclaims you ready, your hands delaying still as they fiddle with the angle and the focus, following the motions the manager that had handed it to you had shown you before he left. It gives you a little red light to say it is filming, and you swallow down the stone in your throat and sit up straight, looking around at the room to avoid the stare of its lense.

The first minute of your vlog is very boring. It's probably only the thought of some stranger sitting in a room later and watching you sit there awkwardly for a ridiculous amount of time that spurs you into saying anything at all. 

"Hello Stay," you begin, because it seems the only way to begin. The words feel awkward in your mouth, your tongue stiff and undeserving of saying them, and your throat scratches and dries; you think, as you speak, that you do not sound like a singer at all. "It's nice to meet you...for the second time." 

A noise rises up from behind you, giving you pause just as you run out of things to say - Han, running his voice up and down the scales as he begins to warm up. You've gotten used to that by now, the volume of the boys around you, but you're grateful for the excuse to pause in your self-rumination anyway, the precious seconds it gives you to figure out what it is you're saying.

Act normal, you tell yourself firmly as you turn back to the camera.

"I guess I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?" you say, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'm L/N Y/N from Stray Kids, and today we're at [] for our first performance of Back Door, and I have just finished with the makeup..."

In the corner of the viewfinder, you notice a face hovering over your shoulder; Jeongin, waving a peace sign just out of your field of vision. You turn to look at him, shuffling over so that he is in full view for the camera. "What are you doing?" you ask and he leans in closer, automatically fixing the angle for the camera.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing," he says, refreshingly peaceful compared to the chaos that is building in the rest of the room. "Is this a vlog?"

"Mhm," you answer, and he smiles and waves again to the camera. "Are you dressed already?"

"Nearly," he says, glancing down at his white shirt and the black necklace that dangles around his neck. "You have time still."

You glance down at yourself; hoodie and cargo pants, neat but not show-ready by any means. "Mine is cold," you say by way of explanation, thinking of the skirt and thin shirt that wait on a rack in the next room, a far cry from the long pants the eight of them are wearing; and you really do like the look you've been given, but the thought of sitting around cold before you had to was less than enticing. "I was going to go and change in a minute."

"Maybe you should swap with someone," I.N suggests slyly. "I bet Changbin would look good in a skirt."

"Changbin's pants wouldn't fit me," you throw back, and he has to turn away from the camera to hide the ugly laugh that snorts from his nose. "He's too-"

Short, you don't say, your eyes tracking the boy in question as he passes by. He pauses in the back of your video when he notices your eyes on him, looks between you suspiciously, and then dances his way out of frame, having decided, you guess, that you aren't up to anything worthy of comment.

The look you share with I.N almost makes you laugh again. "I'm going," you say, scooping up your camera as you stand, "before he realises we're talking about him."

---

"Why do you look nervous?" Chan asks, a shadow that suddenly stands beside you as someone clips a mic pack onto his belt. You eye him in disbelief to avoid turning to look at the hallway that leads to the stage again, trying to figure out if he's joking or not.

"I can be nervous if I want to," you answer after a few seconds, in a way that definitely doesn't hide how anxious you feel at all. 

"But you shouldn't be," he insists, "because there's nothing to be nervous about."

"You know that won't stop me," you scoff.

He cracks a smile despite himself. He almost laughs, except that he's busy turning to nod in acknowledgement of whatever the assistant behind him says on her way past. "It's going to be a good performance," he says, like the simple act of saying it is enough to manifest it into existance, like he would never believe otherwise.

"It's going to be good," you agree readily. "The concerts next week are going to be good too."

That smile flashes across his face again, his eyes lighting up. "You're excited?" he asks - and you almost feel guilty, that he would think that you wouldn't be excited, that you've worked so hard and put on such a stoic face that any of them might start to think this is a chore for you, rather than a dream coming true in front of your eyes.

"Of course I'm excited," you tell him emphatically, before he can get any ideas. "I can't wait to-"

"Y/N noona!" Changbin says as he strides across the room, stopping the thought halfway through. You turn to face him and the phone he waggles in his hand questioningly. "Take a photo with me."

"Right now?" you ask, looping your in-ears over your shoulders as if to demonstrate just how poor his timing is.

Changbin doesn't notice at all. "Why not now?" he questions. "I'm supposed to take a photo for instagram. Come and take one with me."

Beside you, Chan looks like he still has something to say, but when you glance at him, he only shrugs, turning away to fiddle with his own equipment. "Alright," you agree easily and follow Changbin, over to a bland enough piece of wall with decent lighting. You have a feeling someone has already scouted the room earlier for the best places to take photos, judging by how easy it is to find and how well it photographs.

It's a good distraction from the nerves for a few minutes, but it doesn't last much longer than that; especially not when Changbin barks and fusses over the angle and the faces, and then Hyunjin comes wandering over to take the camera out of his hand, and you realise that he's occupying you as much as doing what Skijigi have asked him to do. After that, you laugh and poke fun back at him with just the same vivacity, but it does nothing to assauge the anxiety that's planted deep in your gut, roots curling out to envelop you.

Somehow, when you're done, it is time to go up to the stage - and suddenly, you are engulfed within the group and walking that hallway you had been staring at what feels like moments ago, trying to swallow with a dry mouth and a stone in your throat and wondering if you'll actually be able to get any of the notes out at all.

Chan's hand touches your shoulder as you walk, appearing by your side in just the same way as he had earlier. You wonder if he can smell fear or something; or if you really are just that pale and drawn in the face, if your hands are shaking or something. Whatever it is, you're clearly not doing a very good job of hiding it. 

"You still look nervous," he tells you cheerily, and if he's aware that he's reading your thoughts, he doesn't give any indication of it, not even as he pulls you aside as you reach side-stage and glances up at the huddle of boys that continue to the bottom of the stairs, eyeing them as if there's something he doesn't want them to hear.

"I got you something," he says, when he's sure there are no eavesdroppers, and lets his lips curve in a secretive, delighted smile.

Your eyebrow raises in surprise, almost certain that he did not forget, but rather has been looking for the right time to bring it up - but he doesn't notice the look of disbelief, fishing a small, velvet bag out of his pocket. He offers it to you on an outstretched palm, a bridge to form the gap between you.

With timid, shaking fingers you take it, noting the pink that stains his cheeks and the way he cringes away from meeting your eye as you pull the drawstrings loose. "I saw you playing with the ones at K-Con," he hurries to explain before you can even see what's inside. "And you - fidget a lot. I thought it might help."

A ring tumbles out of the bag and into your palm, the full stop to the end of his sentence. It's only a plain silver band, softly curved at the edges and gleaming where the light hits it - nothing ostentatious or gaudy. Just a simple band for you to twist around your finger, the letters SKZ engraved on its inner circle.

"Thankyou," you manage to say as you slip it onto your finger - and then fiddle with it, twisting it and forth to distract yourself from the nervous hum that seems to hang in the air between you.

"Oh, no." He waves you away before you can even get the words out, that pink flushing his face. "Look, it works already." 

You glance down at your fingers and the twist of the ring, and feel the grin that bites at your face. "I like it," you admit, and try to breathe the nervous jitters out of your chest with the words. 

He looks...relieved? You're not sure, when the music blasts on stage and then cuts off and the crowd roars in response, cutting him off before he can say whatever it is that now lines the back of his teeth. It looks like relief on his face though; as if he'd been worried you wouldn't take the gift or something. Wouldn't see the sentiment behind it even if you didn't like it. What does he think of you, if that's how he thinks you might react?

The thought sends another thrill of fear down your spine, one that the scrape of that ring on your finger can't quiet. So does the scream of that crowd - adrenaline rises from your chest, wrapping its hands around your throat; that wild, senseless energy tensing in your body like you're about to run from a fight-

A hand claps your shoulder. "Are you breathing?" Seungmin asks, balancing on one foot as he leans around you to frown at your face.

You have to inhale to retort, and he smirks. "That's what I was wondering," Chan says behind that grin - but the brush of his hand over the back of yours is much softer; questioning, rather than the jolt of contact from Seungmin.

"I don't need to breathe," you throw at them weakly. "I'm a robot."

"How do I turn you off, then?" Chan asks, and then laughs when you stare at him, surprised. Betrayed, maybe, when you would have expected such a thing to come out of Seungmin's mouth rather than his.

You're distracted by the call of a staff member, waiting to usher you onto the stage - and there, again, are your nerves, returned in two-fold. Debut, you remember again for the thousandth time today. Your dream. Your reward. Your life's work, the only work you've ever learnt how to do.

The group huddle together, say some quick words of encouragement that float past you with registering at all. Your hand is warm in the centre of all of theirs, crushed by the weight of someone's palm as eight hands go down and whoever is on the bottom goes up, ruining the whole thing. You know that you laugh, between the groans and cries of retribution, but it doesn't reach right into your chest. All your attention is laser-focused on the steps before you and the buzz of the crowd waiting beyond.

You are not alone in your daze, at least. Many hands pat your shoulders, smooth your hair. Felix throws an arm around you until you reach the stairs, a one-armed hug while he talks about something in your ear. He lets you go while you climb, and follows on your heels out onto the stage.

The crowd is smaller than K-Con, to your mercy, even if they scream and cheer just as loud as that massive crowd had. It seems like a stupid thing to find comfort in a moment later, when the thought hits you again; of course the crowd is smaller. This is only a broadcast recording, not the concerts that leer at your from the near future.

Some of the boys are already at the centre of the stage, waving and talking to fans. You join them long enough for the official greeting - and then melt away into the background when Changbin immediately commands attention. You find Han there with you, arms swinging by his sides in one last warmup, but you can't think of anything to say other than the tight grin that offers itself to him, no doubt writing all you nerves right onto your face. The smile he gives you in return is sympathetic, and devoid of pretty words to go with it; just a flash of teeth, a puff of air that blows into his cheeks before exhaling. It's a little comfort, at least.

The call to begin shatters any calm it pulls over you just as quickly as it arrives though, the stage a hive of activity as everyone finds their places. For a long moment, no one moves and nothing plays, the tense, still seconds ticking by at an excruciating pace-

And then the music starts.

And then you dance.

And then you sing, loud and clear and bright - and steady, even with the complex movement of your body and the increasing cry of your chest for air. 

The finale rises and culminates with Felix's voice, standing at the end of the line behind you. You feel his weight bump against you as he shifts on his feet, hear the moment of silence and then the renewed cheer of the crowd when his ending fairy comes up on the screens. You can't see when it ends, so you count to five before you turn, ducking out of the line as requested and immediately finding the red light of the camera that was told to be waiting for you. Finger hearts, Felix had suggested backstage and Hyunjin had agreed, and so that is what you give them, angled just so by your cheek and the giddy smile that had been pulling on your lips before the music was even finished.

The stage goes silent, the few scattered beginnings of applause quickly throttled by the hands that remain in their laps. The seconds tick by at a glacial pace, the smile threatening to slip from your face. You glue it there with all the fire that remains in your veins.

You could swear the camera lingers, just to drink in your pain. Logically, you know it is the same time as Felix had. Somehow, the thought isn't comforting.

Finally, that lense clicks off and the boys move around you, giving the crowd something else to hawk and squeal at. Something they really want to see, you allow yourself to think acerbically, and carefully avoid looking any of them in the eye as you do your forced, casual wander off the stage. It is hard enough to achieve in your own bubble, to resist that urge to run, let alone if you catch anything like sympathy on their faces.

The first one below, you take one look at the playback monitor and excuse yourself to the staff, fleeing towards the bathrooms. You're dimly aware of footsteps behind you and the sound of your name, but they do not process and your feet won't stop - not until the heavy door slams shut behind you and the propel of your walk carries you in sight of the mirror over the sinks-

Beautiful, you'd dared to think earlier, staring vindictively at just the same image that looks back at you now. The careful fit of the navy shirt, the short skirt flattering the length and lines of your legs, the layered bangles and the diamonds that glitter around your neck...perfectly crafted to slip right in amongst the silk and patterns of the boys - and not unlike Midnight's dark queen concept either, the concept you hadn't had the right look for. You'd even liked your face, and the unearthly glow they'd painted into your cheeks, the perfect frame of your dark hair-

But something had displeased that crowd. Whether the look, or the dancing, or stupid, stubborn pettiness over girlish crushes - or all of it put together. It took a lot to silence an entire crowd. You knew that - you'd seen one refuse to be silenced before, but never nominally refuse to cheer. Never pass the sentiment around and come to an absolute mutual agreement.

It's a talent, to be able to do that by yourself, you think as you stare into your own eyes in the mirror; and you don't have it in you to deny the rush of feelings that wells in your chest this time, or the hot prick of tears in your eyes. Your thoughts are swept off in the storm, the questions clamouring, crying, begging for one answer; why, why, why, why. Why do they hate you, why are they so mean about it, why didn't you just go home? Why did you ever come to this country in the first place? Why id you think you were good enough to be worth their love?

A soft knock on the door precedes the tentative entry of an assistant; one of the girls from JYP that always travels with you on schedules. You know her name, but you should know her better; instead, you've just been keeping to yourself. Another point of failure, probably.

"Y/N?" she says, daring to put one foot through the door as you blink and nod in acknowledgement. "Sorry - we need to start heading back now. You can have another moment - if you need-"

"I'm coming," you hurry to say; and it is shame that colours your cheeks and gives you the strength again to swallow it down like a hard stone. The tears burn as you blink them away, as you stare at the mirror and decide that no more will fall except for the traitorous three that have already escaped. You'll have to go back on that stage - you won't go red-eyed and puffy, won't give them that satisfaction.

You'll have to do that ending again too, though. Weather that storm a second time. Well, you'll just have to make sure this take is perfect, and then no one will ask for a third. You'll be able to go home and hide.

Your moment is up. You know that, and so you turn yourself away from the mirror, to the girl that waits. She willingly averts her eyes as she steps out, holding the door for you until you grip the edge of it with your own hand and follow her.

Chan is waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall and staring at nothing as he waits. There's a dark anger in his eyes when he turns, but it isn't for you - no, the tissue box in his hand is for you, offered like a bridge that spans the gap between you. 

Warily, you draw one and turn aside to dab at your eyes and try to cool the burn in your cheeks. You want to cringe away from yourself and hide in the bathroom again, to put off facing him until he goes away - but if you do that, he'll know you're hiding, and the hovering assistant will bear the blame of not bringing you back, and those fans will think they know why it's taking so long-

Stupid. They already know that they've won. Chan can see you crying. There's no one left to make a fool of except yourself.

"Are you alright?" Chan asks - and just like you thought, there is none of that anger in the gentle voice that asks.

"It's fine," you answer, biting at your tongue agains the tears that threaten to stir anew. "Sorry. I just needed - a moment. I'm ready to go again."

"Take another moment," he tells you.

"I'd rather go," you say, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to - but it is only the tears that you are fighting, that horrible, gut-wrenching wave of emotion that wants to wash over you. "I'm fine. Really."

The tissue crushes in your palm. You wonder if the sceptical look he gives you is because of the makeup you've surely smudged, or if he just doesn't believe you. "Are you sure?" he asks, and you steel yourself as you breathe in.

"I will be if we don't talk about it," you tell him tightly, and then you take the lead before he can disagree. He falls into step willingly anyway, thoughtful or maybe brooding as you weave your way back to the stage.

"We're not doing the endings again," he tells you as you approach, right as the flock of makeup artists engulf you. Like they knew you'd be crying, you think acerbically, and then banish the thought before it can unbalance you again.

"Were there any notes for me?" you ask as a brush dusts your cheek. The dancing; that's the only thing you need to focus on. The performance. Do it perfectly, and you can escape. Subconsciously, you fingers find the ring, twisting it around and around.

"Not for you," Chan says. "Just try to enjoy it again, yeah?"

Several choice comments come to mind as you gaze at him, each one as dry and hurt as the last, but a look at the occupants of the room stills your tongue. Assistants and stylists and employees of the show - people that you shouldn't be caught speaking ill of fans or members in front of. You've read your contracts and the company ethics, seen the bill for your training attached to your name. You know how far fans and a good public image takes even the most insidious people.

"I'll try," you promise instead, firmly holding your tongue to your principals. No point complaining about hardships anyway. This isn't an industry that takes pity on those who are too weak to survive it.

Even so, the answer seems vapid and contrived the moment it spills out of your mouth. Chan doesn't have time to contest it; the others are already returning to the stage to entertain that undeserving crowd, and so you must follow too, side by side in silence. His microphone passes restlessly from hand to hand, even when you step on stage and his brow smoothes out. You wonder how long that rage will simmer beneath his skin.

Until he can do something about it, a little voice whispers to you with a thrill, watching his receding back.

The stage sweeps you away after that, Chan disappearing into the midst of the others with just one last glance over his shoulder to make sure that you're following. Seungmin replaces him, appearing unobtrusively in your shadow as Felix slings an arm back around your shoulders and bats his hand away from messing with your hair. They flank you until you drift into your position, and then the stage goes quiet so that the music can start again. 

The dance flies by; chorus, verse, bridge, dance break. The fans cheer and chant along as dutifully as they had the first time, but the sound resonates hollow in your chest this time, the faces that you give the camera manufactured rather than brought on by the music. It's hard to forget, now that you know the truth, that those cheers aren't for you; only the boys that surround you, their bodies moving in unison with yours. Part of them, and yet set apart. 

You'd come six years ago expecting to be the jewel in that kind of crown, you think. This crowd has made you the flaw, ugly and unmistakably out of place.

It's a relief when the song ends and you can let go, your shoulders slumping and your chin dropping to your chest as you stare at the floor and try to breathe. A hundred emotions sweep by you, there and then swallowed again by the storm that churns in your stomach; you flinch away from the crowd's laughter at something Han does, and then laugh when Changbin's face appears upside-down in your field of vision, his body contorted strangely in an effort to meet your eyes. There's still something hiding in Chan's eyes and Felix is openly angry, but Minho gives nothing away in the nod he gives you as he passes by. Changbin talks about what to get for dinner on the way back down the stairs, but the words just wash over you; you're not hungry anyway, after all of this, just hollow and restless and tired.

Your third filming trudges by much the same, correcting a small mistake by Han in the pursuit of perfection. The boy looks apologetic as he passes you by, but it's not him or the dancing that you resent. It's just a thing you have to do, until all nine of you are pleased, until you can finally leave that stage and draw the hoodie you'd worn here on a very different kind of morning back over your head and climb into a car to go home.

You don't win any awards. The boys hide their disappointment, but you know it is there. You know, too, where the fan vote went and why that trophy was stolen away from them. 

You're not really sure what anyone expects you to do about it.

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

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@keepswingin

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 7

Masterpost - Ao3

Danny’s on his morning run when he notices the buzzing in his pocket. He stops short, stepping off to the side of the path, so he’s not in anyone’s way. It’s odd, having a phone again. He’s long since buried his old phone in his backpack. It died weeks ago, and he doesn’t really see any point in trying to charge it, when it can’t fulfill it’s primary purpose. The new phone from Robin is clearly far more advanced. It’s weird, having to use a touch screen, and Danny really hasn’t fiddled with it much. He doesn’t really know who’s paying for the service, but he’d rather not test their patience with accidental charges. So he’s only messaged Robin, and only to respond, on the few occasions Robin has had follow-up questions. Now, he pulls the phone out of his pocket, wondering what Robin needs, but instead of a contact name, the text notification lists a number. 

Someone else is trying to call him.

Danny stares at the notification, fear condensing in the fathomless pit of his stomach. He’d known the phone was a risk when Robin had handed it to him. Had understood from the start that it was also a tool to track Danny. But there had been no reasonable way out of it; if Robin was going to make Danny exist, then he had to be able to contact him, for questions, or to let him know when his ID was ready. Sure, Superboy can listen for Danny’s voice, but he can’t exactly message Danny back without coming to meet him, and Robin undoubtedly doesn’t want to have to go through Superboy to talk to him anyways. So he’d accepted the phone, and he’d been careful not to go anywhere weird. 

What Danny hadn’t considered, is the notion that Robin might give the number to others. Or, worse, that others might be able to find it (a trail is a trail is a trail). Now, here’s the clear evidence otherwise. Alarms flare in Danny’s head as he reconsiders, counting all the ways in which this whole thing was a terrible idea. He doesn’t have friends to help him here. He doesn’t even have Vlad to fall back on. Anonymity was quite literally his only protection and he threw that away for, what, the chance that he might be able to go to space camp?

Something touches his arm, and Danny leaps back, weight falling onto his back foot and arms coming up as he glares at the person in front of him. But when he pauses to process, the only person in front of him is an old lady who he’s seen around plenty of times before. Great. This is a public space, and there’s other people here, and he just acted like he was gonna fight an old lady.

“I’m so sorry!” Danny exclaims, snapping his arms down. “I just-” Danny fumbles for a moment, trying to think of an explanation that doesn’t sound like an excuse.

“Oh, there is absolutely nothing to apologize for, dear.” The lady says with a smile, even as she takes a half step back. “I touched you without warning; your response to that is your own. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh...” Danny says. “Okay?” He frowns, trying to remember if he stumbled or something before he stopped. 

“Well, you looked at your phone and I thought you looked upset. So when you didn’t move after a minute, I thought you might have... well, I’ve seen that kind of reaction before, and it tends to not mean anything good.”

“Oh, that’s, um. That’s very nice of you.”

“Nothing of it dear! Now, I don’t want to pry into your business, but if you need an ear, or a hug, or just someone to sit with you for a moment...” She trails off. Danny blinks, and glances back at his phone.

“Um, I think- it’s fine. I probably need to go deal with this, but it’s nothing worth worrying about.” He plasters his best smile on as he says the last bit, and resolutely ignores the way her frown only deepens. “But I really appreciate the offer! I mean, really!” Danny takes one, then two steps back, then turns towards the entrance to the park, and sets off at a jog, calculating in his head.

It’s been about five minutes since his phone buzzed. Nothing’s happened yet, which means whatever situation probably isn’t hostile yet, so Danny presumably has some amount of time. And the first priority has to be keeping this poor town out of it, so the first thing he needs to do is get out of the town.

Luckily, Danny’s had a map of the best transformation spots building in his head since day one, so it’s a simple matter of running to the closest one, shifting, and then taking off under the cover of his invisibility. Once he gets some height, he starts scanning his surroundings for any odd activity, but everything in the town seems normal, so Danny refocuses, looking instead for a safe spot to deal with...whoever is after him now.

Five minutes later, Danny drops down onto an empty, overgrown lot, well away from anyone. The second his feet hit the ground, he looks down at the phone still in his hand. The unknown number is still there, staring him down from the notification screen. Danny takes a deep breath, and he swipes the phone open and begins to read.

Hey! I talked Robin into giving me your number so we could chat more easily! (it’s Superboy in case that isn’t clear)

Danny stares at the message, the dread in his stomach promptly evaporating, until all that’s left is a dense little nugget of embarrassment. Superboy. Who Danny knows and has talked to, and had been very friendly, and absolutely would have asked his friend Robin for Danny’s number. Because they’re at least sort-of-friends and that’s what friends do. They share their phone numbers and then send each other messages. And Danny reacted to a stupid message by panicking and fleeing the entire town like his phone was a bomb that he had to defuse in a desolate-ass field across from a shitty abandoned truck stop along an equally abandoned highway.

At least Superboy’s not here to see Danny look like a loser.

Hey! He quickly writes back. That’s a great idea, I’ll add you to my contacts :D

Danny hits send, then immediately takes off, heading back towards town. Maybe if he’s quick enough, nobody will catch that he left.

It’s kind of funny, in a way. Like, yeah Superboy had been acting friendly towards him from the beginning, but he hadn’t really thought about the other boy as being a potential friend or anything. There’s a part of him that feels guilty about it - that aches with the thought that he could be sending Superboy all the messages he would have sent to Sam and Tucker. He knows they’d call him an idiot if they could hear those thoughts, but the uncomfortable feeling doesn’t seem overly concerned with Danny’s attempts at rational thought.

He wishes they had come with him, even as he knows how unfair it would’ve been to ask. Their bond may be strong as hell (turns out half-dying in front of your friends makes for an unbreakable friendship), but his friends have families that love and care about them. Meanwhile, Danny’s family had always been a catastrophic mess. He’d always tried not to let himself think about it, but here in a different dimension, it’s easy to admit to himself how much it hurt to have his parents not realize he’d died.

They’d never even questioned it, not sought out a single further answer as to how the portal suddenly started working. Danny had spent weeks, falling through furniture and randomly going invisible, had suddenly started being targeted by their shitty home defense systems, and they’d never fucking noticed, because they’d been too excited that their beloved portal was finally working and now they could dig into their obsession all the more.

In retrospect, they should have realized Danny’s parents were ecto-contaminated far sooner. Even Box Ghost wasn’t that much of a freak for boxes.

“It’s fucking dumb,” Danny mutters, dropping down into an alley and transforming. “Fucking dead, and it’s a relief that they didn’t notice, because if my parents noticed anything about me, they’d only make my life fucking worse!” He punctuates the statement by kicking a half-crushed can as hard as he can, sending it flying directly at the wall. The clang echoes in the tight little alleyway, and again as it clatters to a stop a few feet away. He stands there, staring at the can for a moment, thinking about just letting himself cry. He imagines what would happen if he just collapsed onto the ground and started sobbing and never got up. It’s not like he has any responsibilities to get to, after all. Or, if he wanted, he could march back to the park and tell that nice lady that he’s not fine, and demand that hug she’d offered him. He’d feel dumb as hell, and it wouldn’t actually change anything, but he could.

He stoops down to pick up the can. Sam would want him to go recycle it. Superboy responds to his text with a goofy midair selfie.

* * *

Danny does not want to be doing math right now, so when his phone buzzes, he jumps at the opportunity to do literally anything else. Danny’s determined to do well in school this time around, and he’s willing to work for it, but trying to review and relearn everything  he should have over the last couple years sucks. Luckily he’s found some useful resources that he can refer back to when he inevitably discovers something else he should have learned, but preparedness is definitely better than playing catch-up. He’s only going to have two years worth of  high school grades, so each class is worth a lot more. Thinking about that, Danny kind of gets why Robin had offered to falsify his grades. He could only imagine how Jazz would’ve felt if her perfect GPA had been erased in Junior year.

But to Danny, the clean slate is already a boon. He’d quite literally scraped his way out of summer school by half of a percent this last year, and even though Junior Year had barely been underway when he’d fled, his grades had already been beyond recovery. And with no ghost attacks to contend with, Danny’s determined to prove he can get to college of his own accord.

Guess what! :D The message from Superboy says, when he opens it. It’s accompanied by a selfie, though it’s not taken in any of the rooms Danny’s seen in the many photos Superboy’s sent him.

Titan Tower’s been demolished and you’re all staying in Robin’s place for a week? Danny sends back immediately. He hopes that’s not actually the case, but Superboy’s always delighted whenever Danny sends him a snarky response, so he swallows the needle of anxiety. They’ve been texting for less than a week, but in that time, Superboy’s sent Danny dozens and dozens of messages. Solidly half of them are just random selfies, and the number that appear to be from inside their hero base has got to be some kind of a security problem, but Danny’s not about to challenge Superboy on it. It’s too reassuring, seeing the headquarters the teen heroes work from. Every selfie reveals more of the comfortable, spacious, and well-equipped base, and with every reveal, Danny feels a little more certain that they really aren’t being exploited.

Nope, comes the response. Then, a moment later, I’m at your new home! This is accompanied by another selfie, this one with an absolutely gorgeous framed print of the pillars of creation in the background. Danny straightens in his seat, as he stares at the message. He’d given Robin carte blanche when it came to furnishing his apartment. At the time  of their conversation, he’d been overwhelmed and didn’t want to think about anything like furniture, but now that he’s had time to think he’s been feeling a little regret about it. Danny’s used to living with stuff that other people have picked out, and the idea of having control over his furniture actually does seem like it could be cool. Still, he hadn’t felt strongly enough to say anything, afraid to risk disrupting whatever work Robin had already done. Besides, he’d assumed Robin would just give him the are minimum, and he could add stuff later, when he finally had the money.

Danny’s caught between desperate gratitude and guilt. The print in the photo is beautiful, and exactly the kind of thing Danny might have chosen, but he also knows how much quality prints like that cost. He hadn’t thought about it before, but furniture has got to be expensive too, even if it’s just the bare minimum. 

You still there, dude? Another text comes in and Danny moves to reply with shaking hands.

How much money are you guys spending on me?

The response isn’t immediate. Danny tries not to panic, but he can tell he’s going to fail. Instead, he shoves his stuff into his backpack as quickly as he can, holding his breath, because he absolutely can’t be trusted to stay quiet right now. He’s walking out the door to the library, when his phone finally buzzes again.

Okay so I sort of had to ask Robin why you would be worried about that, so like, sorry for the delay. There’s like a lot of gaps in my social knowledge? And I’ve never really had any control over what ppl do or don’t give me, so like. I didn’t realize that would upset you and I’m sorry? But also Robin literally said “not much, only a couple thousand” which is to say that I’m pretty sure he’s actually super rich and furnishing a home is literally peanuts to him.

Danny reads it, and then he reads it again, forcing himself to take deep breaths as he moves out of the doorway. Once he’s well away from anyone’s walking path, he lets himself collapse against the wall, sliding down until he’s curled up against the corner of the ground and wall.

It’s fine.

It’s gotta be fine. There is literally nothing in either of their behavior that has seemed even remotely cruel, and if Danny’s reading between the lines right, then Robin does this sort of thing to other people too, so it’s not even remotely about Danny. He doesn’t feel good about it, but logically it isn’t the level of problem that Danny is worried about. Danny can deal with the gross feelings. He can’t afford to do anything else, really.

After all, how the hell was gonna buy a bed? He has less than a hundred dollars to his name. Maybe he could afford it if he sold off the jewelry, but he absolutely couldn’t furnish a whole apartment. Besides, he literally asked for this. If he’s too stupid to realize the implications of asking for his apartment to be furnished, then that’s fully on him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, half on instinct, but really, what is ignoring Superboy going to accomplish?

Are you good? Do I need to find you? I haven’t gotten the hang of tracking heartbeats like Superman, but I can try? I like being your friend, please don’t let me fuck this up

Danny starts typing out a response. Deletes it. Tries again. He tries to lie and say he feels fine, but it just reminds him of the old lady’s expression the other day, and how she’d seemed more upset when he tried to brush his problems off. He takes another deep breath and tries to remember Jazz. They’d mostly avoided talking about Vlad. The whole thing was just so shitty and neither of them had the power to actually do anything, so they’d mostly pretended he didn’t exist, and Danny had done his best to play off the worst of his behavior. There had been one time, though. When Jazz had come home, upset about some conflict with a friend, and she had turned on him about it, lecturing him about boundaries and how important it is to tell people if you feel uncomfortable. She hadn’t explicitly said Vlad’s name but, well, who else could she have been talking about? So Danny forcibly gulps air down, and he tries to explain.

I’m not mad at you? Danny writes. I just - have a history with, like, gifts, and the idea of anyone spending much money on me makes me feel gross. Like in a ‘how is this gonna be held over me’ sort of way, y’know? He has to back up and rephrase a couple times, but eventually he feels like his response makes sense, so he hits send.

Crisis somewhat quelled, Danny gulps down another breath, and pushes himself back to his feet. There’s a mom nearby staring at him, though her kid seems focused on the book in their hands, so he mutters sorry, and starts heading down the street. 

Oh. Yeah, I think I get that. Superboy’s response is quicker this time. Can I, like, tell that to Robin? He might have an idea of how to make it not-a-gift?

Sure, Danny responds. I think I’m gonna go for a run, so if I don’t respond, don’t stress out.

* * *

When Danny finishes his run, he’s got a picture from Superboy of an absolutely adorable dog, and one single message from Robin that reads Don’t worry. Meet us at Emery Park at 5. We can discuss the logistics of it then. Robin’s absolutely tragic reassurance doesn’t really make him feel better, but it is sort of amusingly Robin-like, so at least there’s that. Danny has no intentions of trying to study now though, so instead he just wanders the park for a while, before slipping off to transform. When he comes back in his ghost form, he feels incredibly conspicuous and pretty much everyone seems to notice him. Mostly they just smile and nod in his direction, but one person actually comes up to him.

“Hey, uh. My sister was one of the people you saved last month, so like, thank you. She means a lot to me, and I don’t know what I would have done if she’d-” They cut themselves off with a choked noise, and they absolutely look like they’re about to start crying. Danny gets it; he knows full well what happened in the world where something happened to his sister, but he also has no idea how to reassure them.

“I’m very glad I was able to help,” Danny tries. “Um, how is your sister?” Good, that’s how to be empathetic, right?

“Ah, well you know. The smoke inhalation had her laid up for a bit, but honestly I think she was more upset about losing her home, you know? But she’s staying with me for now, so we’ll figure things out.”

“That’s good,” Danny nods. They’re not wrong; losing your home sucks. But this random person absolutely does not need to be subjected to Danny’s long list of misfortune. Luckily they take their leave after that, though whether it’s a result of Danny’s expression or their own emotions, he’s not sure.

Nobody else approaches him in the time it takes for Superboy to flip over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Superboy says, grinning as he lands in front of Danny. “Whatchu been up to?”

“Not much,” Danny says. “It’s really not been a productive day.”

“Shit, sorry.” Superboy winces.

“Nah, even before that, I was trying to review math, so like. Focus has been majorly my enemy, you know?”

“Ready to start school, then?” Robin asks from where he’s walked up to stand by Danny.

“Eh, probably not ever gonna be, so it might as well happen.”

“Right, well everything is ready, so if you’d like to adjourn to the apartment to discuss specifics?” Danny nods, and follows as they head off again.

Instead of walking, Robin pulls out a literal zip-line, and they quite literally take to the rooftops, all the way to a nice-looking brick building, not far from the center of town. Danny would wager that it’s within a ten minute walk of the library and the nearest grocery store, which is pretty sweet. Danny can even see little balconies along the front, as they approach which is pretty cool. so he might even get a view. Instead of heading to the front of the building, Robin drops down to street level, and Danny finds himself in a little parking garage when he follows.

“We’re less likely to get spotted this way,” Robin explains as he walks through the parking lot. “I’ll erase the security footage of us, but the less people know we came here, the safer your identity is.”

“Makes sense,” Danny says. “I can, um, make you guys invisible, but I’d have to be touching you to do it.”

“By all means.” Robin says, staring Danny down.

“Cool, um,” Danny glances over at Superboy, who nods, so he reaches out to grip their wrists carefully, and lets his invisibility wash over all three of them. He lets Robin lead them through the door, and up three flights of stairs. He stops in front of a door labelled 305, and a moment later, the door is open and the three of them are stepping inside. Danny drops his grip on them as the door closes, taking in the room around him.

Danny’s half-formulated fear of some fancy, swagged-out apartment that constantly reminds him of Robin’s generosity seems ridiculous in the face of the cozy, simply appointed living space in front of him. Instead of a table, there’s a small bar area built into the kitchen with a couple of comfortable-looking stools, and the couch in the living room looks comfortably worn, so Robin must have gotten it secondhand. The decorations aren’t extravagant either. The framed print Danny had seen earlier sits proudly on the wall behind the couch, but aside from that there’s only a couple minor decorations, and a lamp.

He turns to look back at Robin, who immediately steps forward and holds up a key ring.

“This key gets you into the building, this one is to your apartment, and this one is to your mailbox. There’s also a bike room in the parking garage we walked through. That’s what this last key is for, though I would advise still using a bike lock if you decide to get one.” He holds it out, after he finishes, and Danny nods, trying to commit each key to memory. After a moment, Robin continues.

“Your lease is in the folder on the counter, along with your personal documentation and a couple other things. As far as the funding of this is concerned, I took the slight liberty of forward-funding this with your theoretical payout for the assistance you provided during the train crash last month. So, if and when you decide to legally declare your hero identity, I’ll back-file the paperwork for that.”

“Oh,” Danny says. He looks around the room again, and then back at Robin. The internet had been entirely unclear if Robin had any powers, but Danny’s decided he’s got to be psychic. There’s no other way he could have planned this all out so perfectly. “Okay, that’s, um. That definitely works for me. Thank you so much.”

“You’ve gotta see your bedroom, though!” Superboy explains, grabbing Danny’s hand and pulling him down the hallway, and through the last door.

The bedroom that greets him is similarly balanced as the living area. The comforter alone makes Danny pause. As long as he can remember, he’d always secretly wanted a space-themed comforter, but he’d only ever seen the goofy ones made for little kids, but this comforter is decorated with an absolutely gorgeous cover; the star-spattered blue-black of outer space giving way at the bottom edge to a view of the earth itself, atmosphere pale against the onslaught of space. It’s gorgeous, and doesn’t make Danny feel childish at all. The wall behind the headboard is similarly impressive, with what has to be a composite print of high quality images of every major body in the galaxy, from the sun itself to the dwarf planet Pluto (Danny hadn’t been certain how to feel about that particular difference in classification when he’d first arrived, but he’s come around to it by now).

“Do you like it?” Superboy asks.

“It’s amazing,” Danny says. Stepping forward and falling onto his new bed. “I actually can’t believe this is all mine.”

“Your name’s the one on the lease,” Robin says. “Although please do let me know if you have a hard time making payments. I’m more than happy to assist, and if you need to make it a loan to feel comfortable, we work that out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Danny says, looking around the space again. He feels a lot less anxious just being in this space. Vlad would never have done anything like this. If he’d ever been inclined to get Danny an apartment, there would have been reminders of him everywhere. It’s not even like the kind of unwanted stuff Sam would throw at him and Tucker. This whole apartment really feels like it’s meant to be his.

“There’s also the beginnings of a wardrobe in the closet. Not much since I wasn’t certain of style preferences, but a few basics and a couple nice shirts for any job interviews and the like.”

“Oh,” Danny says. He really should think of better responses to what Robin says, but he keeps saying things Danny hadn’t even considered.

“Similarly, there’s some food essentials in the kitchen. We can always take anything you dislike to a food bank.” Robin continues, unhindered. “And the secondary bedroom is currently set up to be an office. Since you’re doing the school from home option, I decided it was worthwhile to set up a separate space for you to do that from. Separating work and relaxation spaces can go a long way to not going insane.”

“Oh.” Danny feels like a broken record.

“Furthermore, to head off any concerns, the laptop is one of my old ones that was sitting unused in storage. The planner, however, is new, and it is a gift.” Robin says, his mouth turning up into a slight smile. Keeping track of what you have to do is the most difficult part of online school, and the planner should help with that. Just don’t get caught up in trying to use it the right way. Whatever works best for you is the correct way.”

“Damn dude,” Superboy says, staring at his friend. “How are you gonna go and make school sound like it’s kinda fun?”

“If you’re interested, I could get you signed up as well.” Robin’s response comes immediately. 

“We should order pizza,” Danny says, flopping onto the couch. “Gotta hang out now before I get too busy with school.”

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 10

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

yn

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxfewtrell, landonorris and 638.946 others

yn sundays are race days 🏎️🤍

*tagged maxfewtrell, landonorris, kellypiquet*

kellypiquet my babies 🥹

landonorris 🧡🧡

maxfewtrell real flattering 😐

yn 😁😁

user where is alex??🥲

yn sick sadly :((

user oh noo, get well soon alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux thank you 🤍

user love their friendship sm

user p and the catsss

user the little hand i’m crying 🥹

-

You open the door to Max, who is holding his hands behind his back. “Don’t do that“ “Do what?” He scrunches his eyebrows “Hands behind your back. I’m a true crime listener, i’m always thinking about the worst case” Max slowly shows you his hands, a pink flower boquet is in his right hand and his phone is his left.

“I’m not sure how much damage flowers can do but.. Well you love flowers and now I made it awkward, haven’t I?”

You shake your head chuckling “Thank you.” You take the flowers off him and walk inside. Max follows you and makes his way to the kitchen, while you look for a vase in the living room.

P looks at you “What are those?” “Flowers, baby” “I know that” She says and puts her hands on her hips. In her size, an adorable sight. You smile and continue looking until you find one.

“Are they from max?” You nod “They are” “Like maxie gets for mom? Oh! So he loves you very much!” You look at the little girl “It’s just a nice gesture” P raised an eyebrow “Sure, miss almost kissed”

Your head snapped to her “What did you say?” “Nothing!” She goes back to playing with her toys and you make your way to the kitchen.

“Where’s Alexandra?” Max asked “Sick” You shrug. Max nods “Could you make P something to eat? She’ll be hungry soon and she is a nightmare when she’s hungry” You grimace. He chuckles but does it either way.

-

“So she is just sick?” Max asks, setting down food for P and sitting down next to you on the couch “mhm” You say, holding the bottle for the baby “I don’t believe it to be honest”

“No?” “No.” “Why?” You look at him with a knowing look “Ah. You told her” You blush a little and look back at the little human in your arms “Hey, i’m not mad you told her. But now it’s suspicious that she isn’t here” “That’s what I’m saying” You chuckle.

yn added to their story

-

“Are we gonna talk about this now or..”Max trails off. Max and Kelly already returned in the evening and picked the two kids up. Max was helping you clean up a bit because two young kids in the same space can be quite chaotic.

“We should..shouldn’t we” You sigh and stand up from where you put toys away. He nods and you both sit down on the couch once again.

You fidget with the hem of your sweatshirt “Do we wanna risk it or not? Is this worth it? Is probably what we should answer..right?” You nod “Yeah”

He looks at you “We can’t stay away from each other, and it’s killing me okay? I just..” He runs his hand over his face “This is all or nothing” You say quietly, which he nods to.

“We have to think about us..but..” “He’ll be okay. Your mom has a talent in calming and convincing her children. “ He says, reaching out to push a lose stand of hair behind your ear. You look up at him.

“he won’t leave you.” “You don’t know that, Max” “I do. Do you even know how much he loves you?” He smiles “You’re his person.” “Are you referring to Christina and meredith?” You smile “After you forced me to watch every season, can you blame me?”

“He’s my person too..” He nods “I know. And as long as we’re honest with him, he’ll be okay. We had our reasons to keep it this long but we didn’t go behind his back.”

You nod, your eyes focused on his. You lean in once again “If anyone calls, you’re not picking up and the door stays closed” He whispers, hand now resting on your cheek. You look into his eyes and stop moving.

“This would going behind his back tho, no?” You say quietly. Max squeezed his eyes shut and let his forehead meet yours “I have a feeling faith hates us” You chuckle “Why?” “Anytime we’re about to fucking finally kiss, something or someone stops us. Now that we’re finally here, you stop it again” He breaths.

“I’m sorry max, I can’t hurt him. Not after he reacted that badly to dan-“ Max pressed a finger to your lips “Don’t talk about him when i’m right here, please”

You nod pull away when your phone lights up in a notification. Max groans and you pick it up “It’s carlos..?” you say confused.

“What does he say?”

“How does everyone figure this out?” Max whines “It’s not like we were very subtle. The only one who really didn’t notice was Lando. And probably keegan cause he’s just..keegan” Max laughs “Yeah.”

“Oscar actually asked me about it when you two used to race in renault together” “Really?” “Mhm.”

“I’ll have to text lando that mom is coming. And the way I know her, she’s bringing dad”

“Yeah. But back to the original question..”

“Do you think we’re worth it? Are you ready for the confrontation with Lando?” You ask him “I am if you are” You smile lightly “Then we’re doing it?” “I guess we are. Better us than Da- the man who shall not be named.” You laugh “He’s not voldemort.” “He’s still a dick.”

-

-

The short time to Wednesday felt like forever. Lando kept trying to get out of you why your parents were coming. The only answer he got was “Why shouldn’t they?”

Lando was slowly going crazy. If they act like this, there must be something wrong. The last time everyone was this secretive, it only meant something bad.

So it was no wonder that Lando hadn’t slept when you picked up your parents from the airport “Hello my babies” Ciska pulls you both into a hug “Hey mom” “Hey” You both say. Adam pulls you and then Lando into a hug after you pulled away from Ciska.

“Let’s go shall we?” You say nervously. You walk next to your mother “Can someone tell me now why you’re here? It’s really worrying me” Lando says exhausted as you stop next to his car.

Adam looks at Ciska, who shrugs a bit “It’s nothing to loose your mind over. It is just better when we’re here. We’re going out tonight.” Lando eyes him “Going out?”

“Yes, at a restaurant. Let’s go now!” Ciska clapped in her hands.Lando helps them with their luggage as you sit in the backseat which your mother joins you in. She takes your hand and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

-

As you put on your jacket, Ciska stands in the doorway “He’s going straight there?” You nod “He’s meeting us there” “Have you told lando that max is coming?” You nod again “He knows. But he doesn’t know why”

You say with a shaky voice. Ciska stands behind you, hands on your shoulders “We’re here. And if this is what really matters, he’ll accept it. You don’t even know how much he loves you” “I’ve been hearing that a few times recently” You chuckle.

“Then it must be true. There’s nothing that could separate you two.” She kisses the side of your head and you walk into the hallway, where lando and adam are waiting by the front door, deep in conversation about the season.

“Ah! You’re finally here. Let’s go!”

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Lando norris, Yn norris, their Parents and Max fewtrell were seen tonight at a restaurant out in monaco! Fans seem to think, for a good reason, that this is about Yn’s tweet two days ago.

user max keeps showing up at their family dinners 😂

user chaos pure

user am I the only one who saw the video of Max and yn walking together??

user right? They seem to finally getting along

user finally no more war 😂

-

After you ordered, silence filled the table “So? We’re not here for no reason at all, are we?” Lando asked, playing with his napkin. Ciska looks at you.

“I wanted to talk to you..about something” Lando raised an eyebrow “And you needed Mom and dad for that? And Max?” “Yeah. Well mom and dad are just a safety measure.” Lando laughs “From me? Okay.”

“Lando.” Ciska warns “Okay okay. Tell me” “So uhm.. this actually goes a bit back in time.. way back actually..” You fidget “Have you broken something?” “No” Lando raised an eyebrow, still confused.

“Will you let her speak” Adam says now, taking a sip of his drink. Lando nods and looks at you “Uhm..So I uh.. Like someone” Lando nods “Okay? What does that have to do with me? It’s not Daniel, or?” You shake your head.

“Thank god. I love him as a friend but for my sister? Wasn’t so happy but it only matters what you want” He shrugs. You glance at Max, who returns the look and you look back at Lando.

Lando scrunched his eyebrows together but doesn’t say anything “I only really want to tell you and approach this because otherwise Daniel would and I don’t want you to find out from someone else and O don’t wanna loose you,so i’m telling you now, but I like max and he likes me and we’ve liked each other for a long time but we didn’t wanna go behind your back and-“ Lando sits up and blinks in surprise at your sudden fast pace confession “Hey hey hey, breath jesus”

You stop talking and look at him, tears welling up “You like Max?” He looks at him “You like her?” Max nods, lips pressed together. You clench your jaw “Please don’t hate me” Lando looks at you “What? Hate you?”

A tear rolls down your cheek “Yn no” He gently grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair into his arms. His hand cradles your hand and the other arm tightens around you “I could never hate you.” He pulls away and holds your face in his hands “How long have you..”

“Since.. uhm” “since we were sixteen” Max mumbles, loud enough for all of you to hear. Landos eyes soften “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I didn’t wanna ruin your friendship or.. our relationship” Lando keeps wiping the coming tears.

“I just want you to be honest, not hide yourself from me. I thought we were over that?” He sighs “You told everyone i’m off limits!” “Think. Have I told Max?” He looks at Max “Have I told you that?” Max thinks for a moment but shakes his head.

“Why did you think that is?” He looks at you “Why do you think carlos texted you?” You looked at him schockrd “What?” “I’ve known for a bit. It clicked when Daniel made a backhanded comment at the dinner. I can’t recall what exactly he said but you and Alexandra looked at each other and after that she kept glancing at max”

“So alexandra-“ “No I would’ve figured it out myself. At least when max started hating Daniel out of thin air. He didn’t hate him, he was jealous. And why do you think was keegan in your business?”

“You set him up?” “Made him act clueless and all. I wanted to confirm my suspicions. And don’t worry, I get why you didn’t tell me”

“See?” Ciska now says, smiling. Lando wiped the last of your tears and moves to hug Max.

“I don’t have to give you the speech do I?” He asked with raised eyebrows “No, No. I got it” Max says, raising his hands.

“Good. Oh the foods here!” He says excitedly as the waiter sets the plates down. You smile at him and sit back down next to Max. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and a warm smile.

-

After everyone had finished their food, Lando looks around. His face was reflecting that he was deep in thought.

“Lan? Everything okay?” “Daniel was about to tell me because he was hurt, right?” You nod “I think so..why?” “Just asking. Now he’s gonna hear a few things from me when he tells me. Guess who my new guest will be for the next grand prix” He smiles mischievously.

“Lando, no big scene.” You say, tilting your head “Yn. He tried to mess with you, hurt you by telling me. You think i’m just gonna let him? What would you do in my situation?”

You stay quiet, knowing you would do the same. Lando nods “See?”

-

yn

liked by danielriccardo, landonorris, maxfewtrell and 739.634 others

yn it’s race week 🤭

alexandrasaintmleux see you soon ❤️

yn ❤️

landonorris why always these random pictures? Why not the good ones you took of me?

yn I’m your sister, not your photographer.

landonorris 😐

user Daniel liked ahhh

user you think you’re the biggest mclaren fan and then there’s yn

-

I don’t like this chapter at all.. And lando is not as stupid as we thought.. and what in gods name is he planning? 😧

[asterafroditis]

Ur writing is so nice! Could I request Leona x reader, hurt/comfort? Whatever comes to ur mind! ^_^

𐔌 . ⋮ second to none .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Leona Kingscholar x gn! reader

𓏵 849 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, angst, hurt/comfort

yayyy, first request done (๑°ㅁ°๑)‼✧ feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Leona knew better than to let himself care. Caring led to expectations. Expectations led to disappointment. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

And yet—here you were. Again.

Sitting beside him in the dim glow of the Botanical Garden, unbothered by his sour mood, by the way he kept his back turned to you like a wounded animal trying to hide its injuries. You didn’t prod, didn’t push—you just sat there.

That made it worse.

"Kifaji again?" you finally asked, voice careful but not hesitant.

Leona scoffed, running a hand through his tangled mane. "What else is new?" His tail flicked sharply against the grass, irritation rolling off him in waves. "‘Prince Leona, you must do this. Prince Leona, your duty is to your kingdom.’ Blah, blah, blah—what a joke."

"It’s not fair that they treat you like that."

He let out a bitter chuckle. "Fair? Oh, don’t gimme that. You’re smart enough to know the world doesn’t give a damn about ‘fair.’" He finally looked at you, and for a second, the weight of his exhaustion nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. "And neither should you."

You frowned, leaning closer. "Leona—"

"No. Don't start." His voice dropped lower, rougher, like the walls he’d spent years fortifying were beginning to crack. "I know what you're gonna say. That I’m ‘more than just a second prince.’ That I ‘deserve more credit.’ That I should ‘believe in myself’ or some other feel-good nonsense." His jaw tightened. "I know all that. And it doesn’t matter."

You stared at him, your chest tightening at the sheer resentment in his voice—not towards you, but towards himself.

"Why doesn’t it matter?" you asked softly.

Leona clenched his fists, looking away. "Because nothing I do will ever be enough. I could be the strongest magic user in the kingdom, the best strategist they’ve ever seen—but at the end of the day, I’ll still just be the second-born. The ‘spare.’" His voice wavered, but he swallowed it down, forcing a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "If I can’t change that, then why the hell should I bother?"

You inhaled sharply, feeling your heart twist.

This wasn’t just bitterness. This was defeat.

He had already convinced himself that he would never be worth as much as his brother. That his best would never be good enough.

And the worst part? He wasn’t wrong—not in the eyes of his kingdom.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t wrong to you.

"Leona." Your voice was quiet but firm. He still wouldn't look at you, but he didn’t pull away when you reached for his hand, fingers gently brushing against his calloused skin.

"You’re right," you admitted. His ear twitched, but he stayed silent. "You can’t change how your kingdom sees you. You can’t change the fact that you’re the second prince. But that doesn’t mean you’re worthless."

His grip tensed, knuckles white. "Tch. That’s easy for you to say."

You held onto him tighter, rubbing your thumb over the rough skin of his palm, grounding him in the moment. "Maybe. But I mean it."

The night air was thick with the weight of his silence. His breathing was shallow, controlled—like he was forcing himself not to let your words sink in.

Like he was afraid of believing them.

Your free hand moved without thinking, fingertips ghosting over his knuckles, lingering in a way that felt too intimate to be casual. You could feel his pulse, steady yet tense beneath your touch.

"I wish you saw yourself the way I see you," you murmured.

A flicker of something passed through his sharp emerald eyes—something unreadable, something dangerous.

Leona was always good at pushing people away before they got too close, but this—this was different.

"And how do you see me?" His voice was quieter now, almost wary.

You hesitated for a moment, then tightened your grip on his hand.

"I see someone who’s brilliant. Strategic. Strong." Your voice softened. "Someone who doesn’t just follow the path set for him, but carves his own, even if no one else understands it."

Leona let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "Doesn’t change the fact that it’s a path to nowhere."

"Then I'll walk it with you."

That made him pause.

You bit your lip, then continued, voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "You keep acting like you have to prove yourself to people who refuse to see your worth. Like you have to do everything alone." You sighed. "But I see you, Leona. And I’ll keep seeing you, whether you want me to or not."

He stared at you, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a huff, he looked away, running a hand down his face. "You’re too stubborn, y’know that?"

You smiled faintly. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

He scoffed. His tail flicked against the grass, irritation laced in the movement, but his fingers curled more securely around yours. Holding on like he wasn’t sure how else to keep himself standing.

Like maybe, just maybe, he wanted to believe you.

And for now, that was enough.

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 26

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20

Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: As Gabby arrives in Austin, excitement and nerves swirl as she prepares to introduce Glen to her father, Mike, and her uncle, Joe. Tensions run high at first with Mike’s protective instincts kicking in, but Glen remains steady under pressure. Over the course of the evening, Mike observes Glen not just through conversation, but through the way he interacts with his family and, most importantly with Gabby. Later, Mike takes Glen aside for the classic "dad talk," testing his intentions and ultimately finding himself surprisingly impressed.

Warnings: Mild Family Tension (Protective Father), Mild Intimidation ("Dad Talk"), Mentions of Grief & Deceased Parent, Mild Alcohol Use (Social Drinking)

Word Count: 4.4k

Gabby stepped off the jet bridge, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. The warm Texas air hit her as soon as she entered the terminal, a stark contrast to the cooler breeze she’d left behind in Los Angeles that morning. Even though she’d been looking forward to this trip for weeks, a mix of excitement and nerves settled deep in her chest.

She spotted them instantly, first her dad, Mike, standing near the baggage claim with his arms crossed his stance effortlessly exuding protective father energy. Next to him Uncle Joe leaned casually against a pillar scrolling through his phone, completely unbothered.

As soon as Mike saw her, his expression softened. “There’s my girl,” he said, pulling her into a hug that nearly lifted her off her feet.

Gabby laughed, hugging him back. “Missed you too, Dad.”

Joe grinned as he pocketed his phone. “Hey, kiddo.” He leaned in, kissing her temple. “How was the flight?”

“Long,” she admitted. “But worth it.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And how much of that has to do with seeing us and how much has to do with seeing this guy?”

Gabby sighed. “Here we go.”

Joe chuckled. “Oh, he’s been dying to ask about Glen since we got in the car.”

Mike ignored the comment, picking up her carry on like it weighed nothing. “So, what’s this guy like? Should I be worried?”

Gabby rolled her eyes. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”

He gave her a look. “That’s exactly what a daughter would say if she didn’t want her dad to be worried.”

Joe shook his head. “Mike, the man flies fighter jets in movies and wears cowboy hats. He’s probably fine.”

Mike grunted. “We’ll see.”

As they started walking toward the exit, Gabby sighed, deciding it was best to get ahead of this now.

“Listen,” she said, looking up at her dad. “Just… be nice, okay? No interrogation, no intimidation. I actually like him, and I don’t need you scaring him off.”

Mike smirked but didn’t make any promises. “I’ve got to make sure this guy is good enough for my little girl. If he can’t handle a little conversation with me than maybe he ain’t the one sweetheart.”

Gabby groaned. “Oh my God, please don’t say things like that when you meet him.”

Joe laughed as he slung an arm around Gabby’s shoulders. “I cannot wait for this.”

The drive out to Glen’s place was filled with long stretches of open land, rolling fields, and the occasional herd of cattle lazily grazing beneath the sun. It was a stark contrast to Los Angeles, and yet, Gabby had grown to love it from just the one other time she’d been here.

She glanced down at her phone, fingers hovering over the screen before finally sending a quick warning text.

Gabby: We’re five minutes out. Please don’t be weird.

The three dots appeared almost immediately.

Glen: Define weird?

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head.

Gabby: Just be normal. My dad is already skeptical.

Glen: Noted. Normal cowboy mode activated.

She rolled her eyes, slipping her phone into her lap just as the truck turned down the gravel road leading to Glen’s ranch.

As soon as the house came into view, Gabby spotted him. Glen stood on the front step, hands resting in his pockets, watching as they pulled up. Casual but put together in worn jeans, a fitted T-shirt, and boots that had clearly seen a day’s work. His hair was a little messier than usual, the late afternoon light making the golden strands even more noticeable. He looked ridiculously good, and her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of him.

Before Mike had even fully parked, Gabby threw open her door and practically launched herself out of the truck.

“Could’ve waited for me to at least turn it off,” she heard her dad mutter behind her, but she didn’t slow down.

Glen’s grin was instant the second he saw her, his arms open just in time for her to jump into him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Hey,” she breathed, hands threading through his hair as he caught her effortlessly.

“Hey,” he murmured back, holding her just a little tighter than necessary.

He spun her once before setting her down, but even when her feet touched the ground, he didn’t let go right away. His hands rested on her waist, hers on his chest, their eyes locked.

Gabby barely registered the sound of the truck doors closing behind her. It had been a month since she’d seen him in person which was too long. And judging by the way Glen’s fingers tightened on her hips for just a second, she knew he felt the same.

He tilted his head, dipping slightly not quite kissing her, but hovering close enough that her breath caught. It was a little more than PG, but still okay.

A pointed throat clearing from behind them.

Glen pulled back like he’d just been caught committing a felony. Gabby whipped around, finding her dad standing there, arms crossed, face unreadable. Her uncle, on the other hand, was barely containing his amusement.

Glen recovered quickly, his easy charm slipping back into place as he stepped forward, offering his hand.

“It’s really great to finally meet you, sir.” His tone was polite, confident, but not forced.

Mike took the handshake, firm, unyielding. “We’ll see about that.”

Gabby groaned internally.

Joe, ever the peacemaker, grinned as he shook Glen’s hand next. “Ignore him. He’s just mad Gabby didn’t tell him she was dating a movie star sooner.”

“I wasn’t hiding him,” Gabby defended. “I was just—”

“Delaying the interrogation?” Glen finished for her, smirking slightly.

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Smart man.”

Joe laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Glen didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Gabby’s carry on with one hand and rested his other hand lightly on the small of her back, guiding her up the porch steps.

“Come on in,” he said easily, glancing at Mike and Joe. “Make yourselves at home.”

Inside, the warm scent of home-cooked food filled the air, mixing with the faint crackle of music playing in the background. Gabby instantly recognized the lively hum of conversation. Glen’s family was already here.

As soon as they stepped inside, Cyndy appeared from the kitchen, her face lighting up.

“There she is!” she said warmly, pulling Gabby into a familiar hug.

Gabby sank into it, smiling. “Hi, Cyndy.”

“Glad you made it in okay, sweetheart” Cyndy said before pulling back, giving glen a knowing once-over. “This one’s been counting down the minutes.”

Gabby glanced at Glen, amused as he shook his head. “You didn’t have to tell her that, mom.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not subtle,” Cyndy teased before turning toward Mike and Joe.

“You must be Gabby’s dad,” she said, offering Mike a warm handshake. “Welcome.”

Mike took her hand, nodding. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course! We’ve heard a lot about you,” Cyndy said with a smile before glancing at Joe. “And you must be the uncle we’ve heard about!”

“Hopefully all good things,” Joe said, grinning as he shook her hand.

Leslie and Lauren entered next, both already smirking.

“Well, well,” Leslie said, arms crossed. “Look who’s back.”

Lauren grinned, nudging Gabby. “Still putting up with our brother I see.”

Leslie turned toward Mike and Joe. “Welcome, y’all. Hope Texas is treating you well.”

Before they could respondGlen’s dad, Glen Sr. stepped forward, offering Mike a firm handshake.

“Good to have y’all here,” he said, his deep Texas drawl evident. “Hope the trip wasn’t too bad.”

Mike met his handshake evenly. “Not bad at all.”

Joe, on the other hand, grinned and clapped Glen Sr. on the back. “I gotta say, I feel like I already like you.”

“Oh?” Glen Sr. raised an eyebrow.

Joe nodded. “Because the second I walked in, your wife hugged my niece like she was already family, and your daughters are roasting your son. Reminds me of what happens when some of our family gets together.”

Leslie smirked. “It’s our love language.”

Glen sighed. “Again, we’re done with that.”

Lauren grinned. “Sure, birthday boy.”

Gabby laughed, feeling a little overwhelmed but in the best way. The Powells were so effortlessly welcoming, loud, and full of energy. Still, she snuck a glance at her dad, wondering how he was taking all of this in.

Mike, to his credit, didn’t seem rattled. But there was a carefulness to his expression, like he was still taking stock of everything.

Glen, sensing the moment, gave a nod toward the hall. “Let me show y’all around.”

He led them through the house, giving them the full rundown.

“This is nice,” Joe said, whistling. “I see why you left LA.”

Glen nodded, hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Always knew I’d come back here.”

The late afternoon had settled into one of those perfect Texas evenings warm but breezy, the kind that made you want to sit outside for hours. As the group stepped onto the deck, the scent of smoked barbecue lingered in the air, mixing with the laughter and easy conversation of Glen’s family and friends.

A few people were already gathered some of Glen’s childhood friends, a couple of his college friends, and even a few Gabby recognized from L.A. all blending seamlessly with his family.

Glen Sr. had already settled into one of the Adirondack chairs, bourbon in hand, looking completely at ease. When he saw Mike and Joe, he gestured toward the open seats nearby.

“Y’all drink bourbon?”

Joe grinned. “Is that even a real question?”

Glen Sr. chuckled and leaned forward, grabbing a bottle from the small table beside him. The label was slightly worn, the kind of bottle that had been aged and saved for special occasions. He poured three glasses neat and handed them over.

Mike took his glass, hesitating for half a second before nodding in approval. “Alright. Let’s see what Texas has to offer.”

Glen Sr. smirked. “Careful now. This one’s got a bite.”

They clinked glasses, and Gabby watched in mild disbelief as her dad took a sip, let it sit for a second, then gave an approving nod.

“Not bad,” Mike admitted.

Joe took a sip, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Damn, that’s smooth.”

Glen Sr. grinned, clearly pleased. “Good. Now that we got that settled tell me, Mike, are you one of those fair-weather football fans, or do you actually know the game?”

Gabby blinked.

Her dad tilted his head. “Oh, I know the game. Played a bit of it in college back in the day.”

Glen Sr. raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Longhorns fan?”

Mike scoffed. “Bulldogs, actually.”

A collective groan came from the group.

Glen, from across the deck, shook his head. “Well, this just got interesting.”

Glen Sr. leaned back, swirling his drink. “I should’ve known. You’ve got that stubborn energy.”

Joe smirked. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The conversation naturally rolled from football to old rivalries, and even a few dad jokes that made Gabby physically cringe.

She sipped her drink, watching her father who had walked in here prepared to be skeptical now looking completely at ease, talking to Glen’s dad like they’d known each other for years.

Joe elbowed her lightly, chuckling. “Well, that was unexpected.”

Gabby shook her head, still processing the sight in front of her. “Yeah, I thought I’d have to drag him here.”

Joe grinned. “Looks like you might have to drag him away from here instead.”

The evening soon settled into a comfortable lull. The fire pit crackled low, drinks were being refilled, and conversations had broken off into smaller groups.

Gabby was deep in conversation with Leslie and Lauren when Mike noticed Glen standing alone near the edge of the deck, watching the night sky. Mike took a sip of his bourbon, then set his glass down with quiet finality. 

He crossed the deck, coming to stand beside Glen. “You serious about her?”

The question landed like a weight in the quiet space between them.

Glen turned fully to face Mike, no hesitation. “Yes, sir. I am.”

Mike studied him, his expression unreadable. “Serious is a strong word.”

Glen nodded, choosing his words carefully. “I know it’s only been a few months, and I get why that might seem fast. But I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

Mike exhaled, taking a slow sip of his bourbon. “You know, I’ve been around long enough to recognize when a guy’s just saying what he thinks a dad wants to hear.”

Glen met his gaze evenly. “I’d expect nothing less. But it’s not just words, sir. I mean it.”

Mike gave him a long, measuring look before leaning against the deck railing. “Alright then. Since it seems like you’re going to be around…at least for a while, might as well get to know you.”

Glen perked up slightly, a little surprised but open.

“Let’s start simple what do you do when you’re not making movies?” Mike asked. “What’s your thing?”

A small, easy grin tugged at the corner of Glen’s mouth. “Planes.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Planes?”

“Yeah.” Glen leaned against the railing too, suddenly more relaxed, more in his element. “I’ve been obsessed with them since I was a kid. I got my pilot’s license a few years ago. Any chance I get I’m up in the air.”

Mike hummed, genuinely intrigued now. “Commercial or just for fun?”

“Just for fun.” Glen shrugged. “I love the freedom of it. No cameras, no scripts just the sky and me. It’s kind of my escape when I need to get away.”

Mike nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Alright. That’s actually pretty cool.”

Glen smirked. “Thanks. High praise coming from you.”

Mike side-eyed him, fighting a smirk of his own. “Don’t push it, kid.”

Mike swirled the bourbon in his glass. “So, movies. That the plan all along?”

Glen chuckled. “Yeah. It’s all I ever wanted to do since I was a little kid. Liked entertaining people.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Glen exhaled. “I went to school at UT here in Austin. But I dropped out when acting took off. At the time, it felt like the right move.”

Mike’s expression didn’t shift much, but Glen felt the weight of his silence.

“So you never finished?” Mike asked after a beat.

Glen hesitated before shaking his head. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

Mike’s eyes flicked to him. “Yeah?”

Glen nodded. “I’ve been taking online classes to finish my degree. It’s a slow process, but it’s important to me. I want to finish what I started.”

Mike’s lips pressed together, considering. “That’s good to hear.”

And Glen could tell he meant it.

Mike sighed, shifting the glass in his hands. “Gabby’s been through a lot. She’s worked hard for the life she has. The last thing I want is for her to be an afterthought in yours.”

Glen’s jaw tightened slightly, his easy charm fading into something steadier, something real. “She’s not,” he said firmly. “I would never let her be.”

Mike took a slow breath. “You’ve got a big life, Glen. A flashy one. It’s a lot of attention, a lot of pressure. You’re used to it, but Gabby? She never wanted to be in the spotlight.”

“I know,” Glen admitted. “And I’m not gonna pretend to understand exactly what that feels like for her. But I do know that whatever she needs, whatever makes this easier I’ll do it. I don’t care if that means keeping things private, changing my schedule, or slowing down if I have to. She comes first.”

Mike studied him for a long moment. Finally, he gave a small, slow nod. “Good,” he said. “Because she deserves that.”

Glen nodded back. “I know she does.”

Mike tilted his head slightly. “And you? You deserve her?”

Glen swallowed, but his voice was steady. “I hope so. I’ll admit I have my flaws, but I really do my best to be good for her.”

Mike sat with that answer. It was the best one Glen could have given.

The evening had cooled, but the Texas heat still lingered in the air, softened by the breeze rolling across the open land. The sky was deep blue now, speckled with the first signs of stars, and the backyard was alive with movement laughter, quick footsteps, playful shouts carried through the night.

Mike stood on the edge of the deck, bourbon in hand, watching.

Below, a game of family football had broken out. It had started as a simple game of catch between Glen and his nephew, but then his sisters jumped in, then his mom got involved, and before long, Gabby with that fire in her eyes Mike knew all too well had grabbed the ball and challenged Glen to stop her.

That had been it. Now it was chaos in the best way. Glen’s dad stood a few feet away, watching the game with a lazy kind of amusement, shaking his head every so often at whatever stunt his son was pulling.

Mike, however, wasn’t looking at the game anymore. He was looking at Glen. And the way he was with his family. The way he let his nephew tackle him to the ground, even though he could’ve dodged easily. The way he high-fived his niece after she faked him out and scored. The way he laughed with his sisters, completely unfiltered, comfortable.

And then there was Gabby. Mike’s grip on his glass tightened slightly as he observed the little things. The way Glen’s eyes landed on her, even when she wasn’t paying attention. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Gabby was sprinting down the yard, ball in hand, her expression all determination and mischief. Glen caught up in a few easy strides, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around to stop her.

Gabby’s laughter rang out, her head thrown back against his shoulder, completely unguarded. Mike felt something tighten in his chest. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that in a long time.

Mike hadn’t realized how quiet he’d gone until Joe appeared at his side, hands in his pockets, following his line of sight.

For a few beats, Joe just watched. Then, smirking, he let out a soft chuckle. “So,” he said casually, “you like him.”

Mike scoffed, not looking away. “Didn’t say that.”

Joe hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “Right. You’re just standing here watching them with a smile on your face.”

Mike exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “He’s a good guy.”

Joe grinned. “Knew it.”

Mike rolled his shoulders, setting his glass down on the railing, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s just…” He sighed. “She’s my little girl, Joe.”

Joe nodded. “Yeah.”

Mike kept his eyes on Gabby on the way she and Glen moved together without even realizing it. The way Glen reached for her hand instinctively when she stumbled. The way Gabby swatted at him playfully, but never pulled away.

“She’s all grown up,” Mike said quietly.

Joe gave him a look. “You knew it was coming.”

Mike let out a slow breath. “Doesn’t make it easier.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled in the background, the sounds of Gabby laughing as Glen spun her again filtering up from the yard.

Then Joe, a little softer this time, asked, “What do you think Michelle would’ve thought of him?”

Mike huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, she’d have loved him.”

Joe chuckled. “Yeah?”

Mike turned, finally looking at his brother. “I mean, look at him. Charismatic, good with people, big personality, damn good smile. She would’ve liked him even more than Gabby does.”

Joe laughed shaking his head. “You might be right about that.”

Mike exhaled, a mix of amusement and something heavier sitting in his chest.

“She always said Gabby needed someone who could keep up with her,” Mike murmured. “Someone who wouldn’t try to dim that fire she’s got.”

Joe watched him carefully. “And?”

Mike finally looked back at the yard at Glen and Gabby, still wrapped up in their game, still looking at each other like nothing else existed.

“And I think she found him.”

Joe smiled, clinking his glass against Mike’s. “Guess that means you better start being nice to him.”

Mike scoffed. “Not a chance.”

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, you can’t be too hard on the kid.”

Mike just smirked, watching as Gabby tackled Glen to the ground.

Maybe he was being a little hard on Glen. But he was her dad. And it was his job to keep this kid on his toes.

Out on the lawn, the game had somehow turned even more competitive. Glen had the ball now, holding it just out of reach as Gabby circled him, eyes narrowed in determination.

“Oh, come on,” she taunted, hands on her hips. “What, you scared I’ll take you down?”

Glen smirked, spinning the ball between his hands. “Not scared. Just trying to figure out if it’s even fair to make you lose twice in one night.”

Leslie snorted from across the yard. “Glen, you’re talking a lot of shit for someone about to get absolutely wrecked.”

Gabby grinned. “Exactly.”

Glen just arched a brow, playing it cool. “Alright then. Come and get it.”

And that was all she needed. Gabby launched herself at him, fast and determined, catching him by surprise. Glen had half a second to react before she tackled him full force, sending them both tumbling to the grass. The ball slipped from his grip as they hit the ground, Gabby’s triumphant laugh ringing out into the night.

Pinned beneath her, Glen let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, so that’s how we’re playing, huh?”

Gabby grinned, straddling his waist, her hands planted on his chest. “You said to come and get it.”

Glen tilted his head, lips quirking up. “Should’ve been more specific.”

She laughed, and it was that sound the one that was easy and full and real that made Mike’s chest tighten again.

From the deck, Mike just shook his head, sipping his drink, watching it all unfold.

Joe, still standing beside him, let out a low whistle. “Man, she got him good.”

Mike smirked, unable to deny it. “Yeah. She did.”

And what was more surprising?

Glen let her win. He could’ve held onto the ball longer, could’ve stopped her from taking him down—but he hadn’t.

Because winning wasn’t the point for him. Gabby was.

Out on the grass, Gabby finally pushed herself up, still grinning like she’d won the Super Bowl.

“Alright, get up, old man,” she teased, reaching down.

Glen huffed, grabbing her hand. “I am in peak athletic form, thank you very much.”

She snorted. “Sure you are.”

Glen let her help pull him up, but instead of letting go right away, his hands brushed along her arms, then instinctively down to her waist, steadying her.

It was subtle. Effortless. Like holding onto her was something he didn’t even have to think about.

Gabby tilted her head up at him, still catching her breath, her smile softer now. For a second, it was like the whole game had disappeared. Just the two of them, standing there in the glow of the string lights, eyes locked, bodies close.

Then, Glen dusted grass off her arms, his touch lingering for just a beat too long.

“Can’t have you getting all dirty,” he murmured.

Gabby rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away.

From the deck, Mike watched it all. The way Glen looked at her. The way Gabby leaned into him without even thinking about it. The way they just fit.

Joe, who had also caught the moment, nudged Mike’s arm. “Well,” he said, “if you weren’t already coming around to him, that right there should seal the deal.”

Mike didn’t say anything at first. He just took another slow sip of his drink, exhaling through his nose.

Then, quietly, he admitted, “Yeah.”

Joe grinned. “Knew it.”

Mike shook his head, watching as Glen tugged Gabby back toward the game, their hands brushing as they walked.

“She’s all grown up, Joe.”

Joe nodded, his voice softer this time. “Yeah. She is.”

And as much as it ached in a way Mike wasn’t sure he was ready for, he also knew she was happy. And at the end of the day, wasn’t that what mattered most?

The football game had finally settled into easy conversation, the competitive energy fading into the comfortable hum of a warm Texas night.

Mike glanced at his watch, exhaling. “Alright, we should probably head out.”

Joe stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, wouldn’t want the old man to get too cranky.”

Mike shot him a look but didn’t argue. As they stood from their seats, Glen Sr. stepped forward, already reaching for the bourbon bottle on the table.

“Well, since you both held your own tonight,” he said, pouring a slow sip into his glass, “I’d say y’all are welcome back for another round tomorrow.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “That an invitation?”

Glen Sr. smirked. “More of a challenge.”

Joe grinned. “Now that’s something we can’t turn down.”

Mike huffed, but there was no real protest behind it. “Fine. But don’t water it down just ‘cause I’m the new guy.”

Glen Sr. chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they stepped toward the truck, Mike paused, turning to Glen.

For a second, it felt like a test all over again. Then Mike looked him in the eye, his voice calm, steady. “Take care of her.”

Glen didn’t hesitate. “I will.”

And Mike must’ve believed him, because he gave a slow nod before turning to get in the truck. Glen stood there, watching the taillights disappear down the gravel road, only letting out a breath once they were gone.

Glen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think that went okay.”

Gabby let out a laugh, stepping up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Yeah,” she murmured against his chest. “I think it did.”

Glen draped his arms over her shoulders, pressing his chin lightly to the top of her head, holding her close.

“So,” he said, voice teasing now, “does this mean your dad actually likes me? Or is he just tolerating me.”

Gabby pulled back just enough to grin up at him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Glen smirked. “Guess I’ll just have to keep winning him over, then.”

Gabby shook her head, laughing softly.