#but also wanting them to look like messy handwriting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

capitanooos · 1 month ago

Text

trios never work // satosugu x reader (business au)

-`♡´- pairing : gojo satoru x geto suguru x reader

-`♡´- summary : after they cut you out of their lives nine years ago, an unexpected reunion takes place. how do they react? what happens next?

-`♡´- warnings : gangs. pet names, alcohol consumption. nothing else really

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission

nine years. It had been nine years.

The first year felt unrealistic. It was strange. going from being side by side with each other almost 24/7 to no contact at all. [Name] didn’t know what she did wrong, just that one day Satoru and Suguru decided they didn’t want her in their life anymore.

She remembered everything of their last day together, every once in a while it would suddenly pop back up into her head, but in that first year, it replayed again and again; every day.

“Suguru!” [Name] had called out to one of the two teenage boys as she caught up to them “hi!”

Suguru flung his arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into his side as she greeted Satoru.

“Where have you been, doll? We were looking for you.”

[Name] laughed as she grabbed their hands and pulled them along. “Shoko and I accidentally forgot to sleep, so when I did fall asleep around ten I was doomed to wake up late.”

The two boys looked at each other and smiled, the little ball of sunshine walking in front still pulling them along.

“So four hours of sleep and already this energetic? you still gotta teach me that trick.” Satoru commented as he looked at her, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She replied with a ‘real magicians don’t explain their best tricks’

After they walked for a while, they finally reached the top of a mountain, looking down on the city below.

The beginning of summer break celebration was going on, kids from their private school and from public schools in the city came together to celebrate. Many people crowded the streets, there was music, and they could see everything perfectly.

“look who knows the best spots once again”

They had spent the entire afternoon on the top of that mountain since classes were canceled due to the celebration. Their fellow students were down there, having fun.

But as they were probably dancing and partying; Satoru took on the challenge to chase [Name] around the hill, she yelped and ran behind the other boy, clutching to the back of his shirt for protection as she heard the two boys negotiate.

“Don’t you dare Suguru,” she warned, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. He placed one of his hands on hers and suddenly pulled her to the front. “Not you too please! ah!” she yelped, but the next moment she was giggling, she could never stand a chance against their tickle war. Ever since they found out she was very ticklish a few years ago it had become a thing for them to annoy her with. Whenever it was if she were sad, annoyed, angry, or if they felt like it, the boys would look at each other and [Name] would run instantly if she saw. (Which she most of the time didn’t and fell into their grasp giggling.)

Later at night they went back to the school, they had watched the sun set, then the fireworks, and then [name] and Satoru listened and looked in awe as Suguru pointed out constellations in the night sky. It was perfect.

At some point her eyes fell and she slept. The black haired boy looked down at her sleeping on Satoru's shoulder before giving a sad smile.

“She will never forgive us.”

“But at least we'll protect her.”

The next morning when [name] woke up in the room she shared with Shoko there was a little note on her nightstand.

‘you’re gonna be okay’ in Satoru’s messy and rushed handwriting. She got dressed and ran out of her room, looking for her best friends. what did Satoru mean with that she was gonna be okay?

She looked all over the grounds, the dining hall, library, common rooms, classrooms, the fields and gardens. Eventually she decided to also check their dorm. Girls and boys weren’t originally allowed in each other's dorm rooms, but since everyone was packing their stuff for summer the teachers didn’t care. So she followed the familiar path towards the boys their shared room. The posters were gone from their door, but they probably took those down first she thought. [name] knocked on the door, no reaction. She opened the door to find it completely empty except for the furniture that belonged to the school.

Graduation was next week, why were they moved out already? For the last few years they always did that together. Where were they? As she turned around and bumped into Nanami, he looked just as confused as he took in the empty room.

He looked at her, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. She knew what he was gonna ask, “They’re putting their stuff into the car or?”

She showed him the note in her hand and Nanami just got more question marks behind his eyes.

For a week she wondered where they were, she held hope they’d come knocking on her temporary apartment building her parents owned as she waited in the city for graduation. However; no knock came, no call, no letter or note, nothing. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru disappeared from the radar.

When graduation rolled around word went round that Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru would not be attending. They had waited for this moment for she didn’t know how long. Plans were made to go out with their other friends after, they had plans for the future! But now, instead of her two best friends cheering on her louder than anyone else as she held her valedictorian speech, her other friends cheered double as hard. They knew she’d been struggling this week. Shoko had crashed at her temporary apartment since she didn’t want to deal with her parents. Nanami also came by daily, and if they hadn’t been there, no one would’ve known what would’ve happened to [name].

The second year was still unbearable. [Name] worked a lot, saving money, attending college, going out with her friends on the weekends. She often found herself looking to her sides, expecting to see one of her two former best friends walking there. She always looked for them in crowds, she looked everywhere, but they were nowhere to be found.

In the third year [name] finally figured out her future. She was in her third year of college but decided to drop out. She saved a lot of money, and she was relatively well off so she bought a building in the busy city and within six months the place opened to a magnificent night club and partially a cafe two times a week. It took a lot of promotion, and a lot of patience until the place blew up.

In just the first year that it opened, she gained so much she paid off the entire loan of the building. It hit off with people her age, and at just nineteen [name] was going to become one of the youngest millionaires of her time, she just didn’t know it yet.

Her friends loved the place too, and they were immensely proud of [name] after what she had gone through a few years prior. She proved to the world that the only person she truly needed was herself and that she could do whatever she wanted to.

The second year after opening the fourth without Gojo and Geto [name] opened a second location of her club across the world in Los Angeles.

And now nine years later, and six locations in Tokyo, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, NYC, Paris and London [Name] had in fact become the fastest growing self made millionaire at her age. She lived in Beverly Hills, had her own place designed and built and she was living the life.

Now; in her bathroom it was still a calm Saturday night but she knew that in an hour she would be in her own club, observing the people as she sipped on her drink. Saturdays were the busiest; first day of the weekend but that also meant a lot of money.

“Scarlett?” [name] called out to her assistant who walked towards the entrance of the bathroom. “Take two weeks off, alright? Paid vacation of course, take your wife anywhere you want, put it on my bill. It’s summer and you haven’t been on a break since last year. It’s not up for debate.” She was fixing the last strands of her hair before turning towards the woman in her doorframe who looked a bit ill at her words. “Now, how do I look?” she gave Scarlett a smile.

“As beautiful as always. And… Are you sure you’ll be fine? I mean… Two weeks is a lot.” Scarlett loved her job, not because it paid well, or because her boss was very generous. She loved her job because her boss felt more like a close friend rather than a boss.

“You’re right, make it three weeks. You deserve it, you and your wife both. I’ll be fine, I know how to start a washer and dryer, I know how to do the dishes. What else would I need? Now, have fun on your vacation, you better send me pics, and have fun! I gotta get going now though cause I'm already late.”

Scarlett still looked a bit sick as she bid farewell to her boss, but at least she could finally take a break, which she was too shy to admit she actually needed.

[Name] walked through the front door of the club, she didn’t pick favorites is what she told others, but the location here in LA and the one in Paris were definitely her favorites of the six she owned. The music was beaming, lights flashing and the scent of alcohol and sweat hung in the air. Security guards nodded at her in a silent greeting as she made her way to her office, one of them trailing her for her own protection. Tonight was going to be a good night, she thought as she poured herself a drink, quickly drowning it before taking a glance at the paperwork that had been assembled on her desk during the last few days. She’d take it home when she left tonight. The security guard opened the door again and waited for her to lock it, after she gave him the signal he didn’t have to trail her tonight.

She walked past the VIP area, making some small conversations with people she’d seen before. There were new faces too, there always were. All different types of ‘em too. It was a safe space as well as a club. She stopped at Toji’s table, how he and her met was a long story. Everyone at [Name] her boarding school knew of the Zen’in family and their generations at the school, same as the Gojo family, as well as her own. She’d seen him here at the club one day a few years ago, standing at the bar and damn he looked familiar she had thought. It soon clicked in her head and she walked up to him.

“Zen’in?” she had called as she stood behind him.

“Fushiguro now actually, took my wife's last name.” he said as he turned around, looking at the young woman in front of him. “Wait,” he had studied her face, until his eyes landed on the obvious giveaway of her family “[last name]?”. She nodded and smiled in response to his guess. “Never thought I’d see one of you all the way out here.”

“Well, someone has to be the millionaire of the family.” Toji’s eyes widened as he asked for more details, giving an impressed grin when he found out she was the owner.

“You got it good, girl. I wouldn’t have suspected you to be the type.”

“Hello again, it’s been a while.” She sat down on the couch next to him, observing the people as they danced to the music. There were some empty glasses in front of him but Toji seemed rather sober.

“[Last name], you look good tonight.” he gave her a grin, it had been a few years since his wife died, the first few years were a mess for him, he was in here every night drinking away his grief. But over the years he had come to accept her passing and actually started taking care of his son again. Now he came every weekend, mostly just Saturdays since that's when his son was at his friends’ or godfathers house. “Thank you,” she smiled at him, smoothing out the satin dress on her body. “How’s Megs?” She hadn’t seen either of them ‘cause they’d been residing in Japan for a while. Toji smiled at the mention of his son. It took him too long to realize that the little boy was his light in life, his wife lived on in him and oh he was amazing.

“He’s fine, great actually. He graduated from Jujutsu High a few weeks ago…” as Toji said that an old but familiar scent hit [name] her nostrils and she immediately turned her head around but didn’t find what she smelled. “It was amazing to see him receive his diploma. To be really honest, a few years ago I thought I’d never be back at that place again after I graduated years and years ago myself.”

“He’s so grown up already, I can remember when you told me he just started.” [Name] turned her head back towards her friend with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “And to be fair, I don’t think I’ll ever return to Jujutsu High again, no matter the reason.” there was a reason- there were simply too many memories there that she had tried her hardest to forget. Those memories being the ones she just smelled.

The mixed scent of sweet floral yet strong cologne and a really overwhelming smell of pine and vanilla still hung faintly in the air.

It can’t be, she thought. Her mind was just playing tricks on her because Toji had her remember things she didn’t want to. There’s no way.

Yet when she bid farewell to Toji and walked towards the bar she smelled it again. The bartenders didn’t look up when she walked behind the bar and poured herself a drink, yet she overheard their conversations.

“That man's eyes… wow! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that bright!”

It’s not him. They’re not here.

“But the other one! His shoulders… my god.”

[Name] walked away before she’d drive herself insane over this. There was no way they were here. If they were, she would’ve spotted them already. Even though a decade can change a lot about a person; Gojo’s bright blue eyes and bright hair and Geto’s long dark hair and muscled figure always stood out, especially when together.

She wasn’t even sure if they’d recognise her. She cut her hair, the final stages of puberty hit her later so she got some more curves and flesh, her style had changed and so had her personality. Though deep down she knew that if she’d ever see those two boys again, she’d turn back into her old bubbly self if it took too long. She always had a soft spot for them, no matter what happened or how much she denied it, they would always be a part of her past. Toji had also once told her she walked around like she owned the place, to which she replied that she did. He’d given her credit for the remark and she’d told him to put things on her tab that night.

With a racing heart she went back to observing the crowds. Walking alongside tables, along the dancefloor, everywhere.

Theres no way these two fucks still wear the same cologne after years.

She sipped her drink, it burned in her throat, but it wasn't unpleasant. She walked towards the staircase for staff and security. All the way up it overlooked the layout of the building and she could spot things easier.

I’m going to drive myself insane by looking for people that aren’t-

Her train of thoughts stopped when she saw a mob of bright white hair, she stared at it for ten seconds before looking at the person's face and she felt her head get light, looking besides him she saw a familiar black haired man.

Fuck.

She turned around, not being able to look anymore. The top of the stairs wasn't lit, so the chance they would’ve seen her was slim, very slim. [Name] sunk to the ground and drowned her drink in one go, this time the burn lasted longer and she closed her eyes. A few years ago she had promised herself that if she’d ever find them in her club- her property, she’d get them kicked out. Yet now that she found them, that seemed impossible. She couldn’t just walk up to them and tell them to get out of here.

Why not?

Why not? There was no reason as to why not. As she said, it was her property, she could do whatever she wanted and before she realized it herself she was already making her way to the table they were sitting at.

The music seemed to dim, the world became clearer yet also blurrier as she stood in front of them.

“Get the fuck out of my place.” she said, there was anger and aggression in her voice as she looked at them. “Now.”

Gojo and Geto both looked up at the person speaking to them. Geto had to do a double take as he took in the woman before him, but Gojo’s heart and smile dropped instantly.

“Get out. You’ll be okay.” her own eyes met Gojo’s blue ones, sending back his own words he left on that note nine years ago.

[Name] raised her eyebrows in amusement as she looked at the two men infront of her. They changed so much, yet nothing at all. She’d wait sixty seconds before she would raise her hand and look to the side to call security.

“[N-name]? What are you doing here?” Gojo stuttered.

“Running my club, what about you?” she smiled sarcastically before glaring at him. “Leave. You two wanted me out of your life, now I want you two out of mine. Leave and never show your face here, or at any of my locations, ever again. You have one minute before I call security.”

Geto stared at her with wide eyes, the woman in front of him was not the one they left behind nine years ago. There was no sign of silly jokes and giggles, lit up eyes and playful eyerolls.

This woman was cold. That was the only word that came to Geto’s mind. There was no love in her eyes anymore, her spark wasn't the same. And the worst part of it was that Gojo and he were probably the reason for it.

“Ha! Look who it is, man I didn’t expect you here. Isn’t Megs at your place?” Toji suddenly appeared out of nowhere and his words made [name] even more lightheaded. He wrapped his arm around her waist briefly, a small sign of affection and recognition as they exchanged glances. “You know them?” she asked Toji who enthusiastically replied.

“Yeah! Blue eyes is Megumi’s godfather, didn’t I tell ya? But I was just gonna head back out, got an emergency meeting first thing tomorrow. See ya [name], take care of yourself, alright?” he waved goodbye to Gojo and Geto and walked out.

Great. Fucking great.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking-

“Follow me, no questions and you'll walk out of here unharmed.” she spoke in a cold tone before turning around and making her way to her office.

What the fuck was happening. Who had cursed this upon her?

She unlocked the door to her office and walked in, pouring herself another drink as the two men came in. “Sit.”

They did as she said and sat down in the chairs facing the desk. Gojo sneaked a look at one of the papers on her desk. It showed the gain of the last month. That was more than his and Geto’s company made… in three months…

He quickly sat back when she turned around and sat in the desk chair with her drink in hand. It was a fancy black one, CEO’s would have it- he had one alike.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” Gojo said, trying to make small talk.

“And I thought we’d be friends forever.” She took a sip of her drink, looking at both of them before speaking again. “Explain. You have ten minutes, and I am solely doing this for the sake of Toji and Megs cause I will not let them know we are on bad terms.”

They stared at her. Nine years ago she would have blushed and tried to hide away or scold them to stop, but now she stared back, no trace of blushing on her cheeks.

“Get to it. We’re adults now, we both have running businesses. So let's get over it.”

Geto sighed, this was more complicated than the situation nine years ago was. Or maybe explaining it nine years ago would’ve been easier, [name] was easier then. Not in a bad way, she changed, they all did, but Geto had the feeling that she would’ve understood it better back then rather than now. Both Gojo and Geto felt the anger radiating off her, she looked like she could in fact kill both of them right now.

“We got mixed up with the wrong people in our last year.” Gojo suddenly said and she huffed in annoyance but kept quiet. “You know we were already making plans for our business back then, we tried to make some ties here and there and a particular branch of people scammed us. That’s how we met Toji too, he was mixed up with the same people. They had known I came from money and so they stalked us around, even at school. Pretty soon they found how close we were with you and before we knew it they had entire records open on you. Where you lived, who your parents are, all that type of things! They found your birth certificate! With that came that they found out you came from money too- old money. So they started with threatening to keep us hostage ‘till you paid them a fine, knowing you would.

After we complied and gave them some money they continued with the blackmail. They came to us with pictures of you asleep, during class, free time, of your apartment in the city. They said they’d kidnap you, said what they’d do to you if we wouldn’t give them more money once our business grew. They knew it would grow because of my father, so we had to cut ties with you to protect you. On the last night-”

“Enough.” She took a long sip of her drink and threw her head back. “You know how much this sounds like bullshit? Protect me or they’d kidnap me and torture me unless-literally speaking-you payed them a fuck ton of money. You could’ve fucking told me? You could’ve waited ‘till after graduation? Yet you decided not to knowing I would be a fucking wreck for years upon years. And then suddenly, after almost a decade you show up in my club acting like a bunch of fucking pussies. The boys I knew wouldn’t pull shit like that! They’d fight cause they’re rich private school jackasses who wouldn’t back out of a fight, nor abandon their best friend simply because some fuckers threatened to hurt her! This could’ve easily been fucking figured out because for fucks sake Gojo! You! You are the heir to one of the oldest bloodlines in country, and so am I so I personally do not see where the fucking problem lies in that it could not have been resolved! And you- no. Don’t you both see the logic in this?” She took a deep breath and looked them both in the eye. “I am drunk alright but even I can see this is bullshit.”

She threw her head back again and took a deep breath and exhaled it.

“You don’t know how scared we were to lose you to them, [name]!” Geto looked at her, but she was looking at the boring white ceiling. “Yeah, well. You lost me because of your fears of losing me.”

Silence hung in the air for a minute or so as she let those words sink in.

Don't do it. Do not do it. It doesn't matter how close you used to be with them. It doesn’t matter that they took your v-

“Okay here's the deal. It's friday, or well saturday by now probably. Tuesday this place is a cafe, like it is two times a week. You both come here at ten AM, and well talk then, cause again I am fucking drunk.” rolling her head back and looking at them she sighed “Now get out.”

Gojo and Geto gave each other a look, then looked back at [Name]. She looked back, even though her eyes were a bit bloodshot and teary, her gaze was filled with anything but care and love. Geto took a deep breath before standing up. “Will you get home safely?” He asked and she could see there was genuine concern in his eyes as he frowned a little.

“I’ll call my assistant to come and get me.” She rolled her eyes and gave them another look that told them to get out.

Only [Name] forgot that she had sent Scarlett on vacation, so when she dialed her number it went straight to voicemail. She walked out of the club with the stack of paperwork from earlier in her hands and called an uber. The driver said he was near and there within a minute, so when eventually a black car stopped in front of her she got in. Vaguely she heard him ask for her destination and she gave her address.

Tonight hadn’t gone as planned, at all. She had expected a calm evening but it was anything but. [Name] had always thought she was over it, over them, or at least for the biggest part. There were always small reminders of them in everything she did or had. But she really thought she’d be able to kick them out, out of her club and out of her life just like they’d done to her. Their explanation–it made sense but it didn’t. Sure she knew they were busy setting up their business, she knew they were making connections. But stalking? The threats? It seemed unreal, yet it was known that around that time there was a peak of criminal groups disguising as business people in Japan.

[Name] searched for her wallet and pulled out three bills of twenty when the car stopped in front of the gate to her home.

“Keep the change.” she said and stumbled out, typing in the code of the gate and walking in. She stood still for a moment, looking up at the sky before collapsing on the grass. LA didn’t give the best view of the stars, yet she stared at them anyways, the moonlight shining down on her. It didn’t take long before her eyes closed and she fell asleep under the stars.

Satoru and Suguru watched the woman collapse on the grass and they jumped out of the car. How she hadn’t noticed it wasn’t her UBER, they didn’t know. The gate closed just before the two men could reach it.

Satoru slammed on the gate, while the other used his brain and looked at the numbers. Three of them were slightly stained with a black substance–probably mascara that [name] had rubbed onto her hand when she rubbed her eyes.

Suddenly Suguru saw it, those three numbers were the first three numbers of his birthday.

“Over us, my ass.” he said as he typed in his birthday on the keypad.

The other looked over at him and stared as the gate opened. “How’d you do that?” “It was my birthday.” they were both a bit dumbfounded by it, but neither of them would be lying if they denied her birthday was also still their phone password.

Once the gate was open enough they ran through it. The once nicely stacked papers were now sprawled around her as her chest slowly rose up and down. Suguru rushed towards the papers, those were finance and he knew she’d be pissed if they flew away. Satoru ran to get the woman off the grass, he mentioned for Suguru to grab her purse and fish out her keys as he carried her to the front door.

“Fucking hell sweetheart, you never fail to get us concerned do you?” Satoru held her tightly as Suguru opened the door with the sixth key he tried. They stared in awe as the lights turned on. Yeah, this is definitely a [Name] house. “Couch?”

“She never liked sleeping on couches, let’s just find her room.”

The two men wandered around the massive house, looking inside every room in the hopes it was her personal bedroom. They stumbled across her office, multiple empty bedrooms–and bathrooms, tons of dead ends, and lots and lots of paintings. But finally when they took one corner it became clear this was where [name] spent most of her time. They opened the biggest door and it revealed a bedroom, adorned with adorable furniture and picture frames, and of course more art. This was definitely her room.

Suguru looked at pictures of a teen [name] with Shoko, next to it stood a picture of Nanami–which didn’t seem to be a very old picture. He saw lots of familiar faces. Even some of Megumi and his friends. In the meantime Satoru had carried her to her bed and laid her down.

“We either wake her up and get yelled at, or we leave her like this and she’ll wake up feeling terrible.” Satoru turned on the light on the nightstand and looked at his best friend.

To be completely honest–they hadn’t known they were in her club tonight. They both knew she owned a chain of clubs, just like how she probably knew about their business. Their surprise to see her had been much alike to [name] except for the hatred. Both of them had said it. That she’d hate them once they left, and she did, they saw the anger this evening. Though it was a surprise she didn’t turn violent, not that [name] was aggressive or anything, but what would any sane person do when they’d see the person who made their life miserable by leaving her alone?

It was probably Toji’s appearance who stopped her from doing that.

“Or we do our best to make her comfortable cause she ain’t gonna be sleeping well in that. If she wakes up we accept the result. If she doesn’t; we leave as quietly as possible and see her tuesday.” Geto proposed and already turned to what he assumed was a walk in closet.

He blindly grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of shorts from a random drawer and walked back out. As the two stood beside the bed looking at the sleeping woman another wave of realization hit them but it soon faded away and they got to action. Sure it was a bit weird they were changing their former best friend's clothes while she was sleeping, but they’d rather have her comfortable rather than ripping an expensive looking dress.

You just do this because you want to make up for the time you lost with her.

It wasn’t the first time they had changed her clothes, saw her shirtless or passed out. Yet it was a very different situation now. Nine years had passed.

It took them a while, and some whispered curses and confusion of the dress [Name] was wearing later, they stood back and watched as she lay there, sleeping. Satoru had gone to get a clean glass of water for on her bedside while Suguru tucked her into bed.

“You’d definitely have our heads if you knew we were here…” he spoke as he gently lifted her head to get the hair out of her neck. That’s when he realized she also still had make-up on, best leave that for her to do when she wakes up, Suguru thought.

“Scarlett? Scar don’t forget…” Suguru froze as he watched [Name] stir in her sleep. He carefully reached out and placed a hand on her head.

“Go back to sleep, pretty girl.” He closed his eyes, the sound of her voice hadn’t changed, though when they talked earlier it was rougher, there was hatred in her voice. Now her voice was soft and calm, like it had been all those years ago.

They’d spent summers at each other's houses, mostly Satoru’s or [Name]’s, and every morning the boys would hear that soft, whiney, sleepy voice and they’d just melt. Surrender whatever and tickle and smother the girl in hugs and kisses.

Some outsiders called them ‘like siblings’ , some said the three could argue like a married bunch, others said they were invisibly bonded, like a string always connecting them wherever they went, always coming back to each other.

Suguru kneeled beside the bed, looking around the room. Though [Name] may be in her late twenties, the way she decorated her room was still the same as in her high school days. Picture frames with pictures of friends everywhere, posters of shows, bands, movies on the walls. Plants here and there, a pile of laundry on the floor along with some dishes.

Her bedside table adorned a book, a cute lamp Satoru turned on earlier, some flowers, another picture frame with a picture of her with some friends… No, not just some friends.

It was [Name], with Satoru and himself.

Suguru swallowed, he remembered the day that picture was taken all too well. It had been their last first day at Jujutsu High, also known as their first day of senior year. God, they were all young then, Suguru thought. Young and clueless. No idea what was bound to happen not many months later.

Originally the picture was just meant to be of [Name], but the two boys had decided to photobomb, so it was [Name] cutely standing in front of the camera, and then two teenage boys coming up behind her with weird faces. The girl absolutely adored the photo, it had been on her night stand ever since she got the photos back on paper.

Suguru cast his eyes down to the floor before the door opened and Satoru came in, nearly on his tippy toes to try and make as little sound as possible. “Got the water, let’s… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, let’s get out of here before we wake her up.”

When [Name] woke up the next morning she had zero recollection of what happened after she exited the UBER. To her surprise, she was no longer in her dress, wearing clothes she hadn’t seen in years, ones she tucked away after high school ended and never looked back on.

She noted the freshwater and aspirins on her bedside table. Her dress from the night prior neatly folded and put on her vanity stool.

Odd. She thought as she got up out of bed. She also found her phone on her bedside table, plugged into the charger, on do not disturb. Very odd.

She opened up her phone, seeing hundreds of messages from Scarlett, and as she opened them the woman herself called.

“[Name]? Thank god, are you alright? What were they doing carrying you?” Scarlett immediately bombarded her with questions, and [Name] could not phantom what she was talking about at all.

As Scarlett continued talking [Name] walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror just as Scarlett spoke words she did not want to hear at all.

“What were the owners of S&S Industries doing inside of your house?”

Tuesday rolled around in a haze. The weekend was a blur, [Name] was not prepared for the day to come. This was the exact reason she always had Scarlett make her appointments.

She arrived at the location an hour early, making sure everything looked better than good. It had to be. Her staff had welcomed her with a warm welcome, big smiles and kind words, as always. She told them an important meeting of sorts would be taking place around ten and to be polite, solely to tell them again how important it was.

Out of pure coincidence, Megumi and his friends showed up ten minutes before ten, distracting [Name] from the nerves that were eating away at her. She was sitting down in a booth in the center of the cafe, Nobara and Megumi sitting next to her as Yuji ordered him and his two friends breakfast. It was always nice to have the kids come by, have breakfast with them, today was just really unfortunate.

“You kids will have to pick another table to eat at, yes? I have a meeting here in a bit.” She looked at Megumi, noting how much he looked like his father. Her phone chimed, and the time told her it was a mere five more minutes before she had to face them–sober.

“Business meeting? More locations? Important? Collabs?” Nobara looked at her with big eyes, [Name] adored the younger girl, she reminded her of her younger self a lot, and she guessed Nobara saw her as a big sister, always clinging to her side when the two saw each other.

“Not quite, just… some people from high school, but you have to promise me not to give any weird looks when you see them, okay?”

She looked at them again, their confused looks bringing a nervous smile on [Name] her face as she shooed them away when the door opened.

“Tell your dad I said hi.” she messed up his hair before walking towards the two men in the entrance.

Enough hours were spent trying to come up with what to say at this exact moment, she had so many options, yet none came to mind as she looked up at them.

[Name] looked up at the two men and swallowed, her head felt light as she offered a small smile–already regretting everything.

“Hi, welcome.” she dipped her head out of respect before turning around and mentioning for them to follow her. She spared the kids a look, and as expected they were staring at the trio with big confused eyes. Oh how much they looked like Gojo, Geto and herself when they were younger, and she could only hope they wouldn’t meet the same fate.

Once they were seated in the booth a waiter came by and took their orders, which were still the exact same as a decade ago.

“It’s a nice place you build here.” Geto was the first to speak up.

Hesitantly [Name] looked up at him and smiled, “Paris is even better, bought this old place, renovated it completely but kept the old looks on the inside. It took a while but it’s perfect…” She again looked at the kids, Nobara was already looking at her and offered her a thumbs up. “So, Megs’ godfather huh?” Gojo met her eyes over his sunglasses he still wore, guilt was evident in them.

He nodded softly, “Yeah… Saved Toji from one of the gangs we got mixed up with, he made me his godfather about a year later. What about you and Toji?”

“Me and Toji? In what way?” She raised her eyebrows, knowing fully well what he meant. “Toji is a family associate, loyal customer, and a great friend. Nothing more. A bit too old for me.”

Silence fell over them again until their drinks arrived. The air was tense, guilt and regret hung in the air as well as sadness and anger. It wouldn’t take much for [Name] to burst out in tears. For the first time in years she was at arms length of her best friends, she looked at them and savored the moment even though they hurt her so badly.

Gojo still stirred sugar through his coffee as he sat in the middle seat, stealing Geto’s small cookie when he wasn't looking. His hair still messy but not messy messy, his undercut now much more noticeable than when they were teens and still those cursed sunglasses that hid his mesmerizing blue eyes.

Grew up to meet the Disney prince standards. [Name] thought.

Geto… His hair was longer, half put up, half falling down his back. He put on more muscle, a small smile still always present on his face, soft and caring eyes staring back at her as she took him in.

Oh fuck.

“You’re staring, doll.”

She flushed, blood rushing to her cheeks as she got caught. She swallowed, saying the first best thing that came to mind.

“It was a real asshole move, you know. Nine years ago. It really fuckin’ hurt and it could’ve been atleast brought to me in a slightly better way.”

You didn’t have to cut me off completely out of nowhere. Was what she meant to say, but she knew the boys got the message already as they dipped their heads.

“It took me four years to stop looking to my sides for either of you, I couldn’t sleep in my family home anymore cause every meter of the premises reminded me of you. I never stopped looking for you in crowds, I never stopped smelling ghosts of your scents wherever I went. I never had the nerve to throw out pictures of you, of us. I never changed my phone password, I- I never got over it, over you two.”

[Name] had tears in the corners of her eyes as she grabbed her tea to calm herself. Every inch of her just needed to tell them everything. How she felt, how it hurt. Everything.

Her lips quivered when a hand took her mug out of her hands and arms wrapped around her. The smell of a strong cologne filled her senses and that was all it took for the tears to fall. She was pulled closer until she could feel the material of his sweater on her cheek. Suguru Geto was hugging her for the first time in nine years. A feeling she never thought she’d feel again as she held onto him for dear life.

Somewhere in her mind [Name] remembered what she thought not too long ago. If I stay around them for too long I'll go back to my old self in no time.

“Easy, doll, we’re not going anywhere... Not again.” Suguru whispered softly rubbing soothing circles on her back as he held her close. “It’s okay, shh.”

He slowly rocked them back and forth, locking eyes with Satoru who was having a hard time holding his emotions in check. Gojo also didn’t dare spare the kids not too far away a look, not knowing how’d they react to the scene in front of them.

Carefully Satoru sat up and reached out to [Name], her head still half shielded away by one of Suguru’s hands. When their eyes locked she broke free from the other man and embraced him.

“Always stealing the ladies away from me,”

“Yeah, well, I think there's no more need for other ladies now that we have the best one of all back.”

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

dont forget to like and reblog <3

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #suguru geto #geto suguru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

182 notes · View notes

hysteria-things · 5 months ago

Text

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART SIX.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris hang out after what feels like forever, and he finds something personal of yours under the bed. because he’s nosy, he can’t help but open it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, that should be it :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,034

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: changing up some things…

(dividers by @strangergraphics)

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 disbelief, the nostalgia hitting him like a truck. nothing and he means nothing has changed about your house from when you guys were little. hell, there still was the wall by the doorway where it had your heights written in pencil. it faded throughout the years, but it’s still visible. his heart hurts when he realizes it stops at age ten.

the both of you talked as if you guys didn’t stop talking at all. “let’s chill out in my room.” you say, grabbing his hand and guiding him up the stairs.

although he was in here the other day, he didn’t get to really look around until now. your room captures you perfectly. you sigh, sitting down on the mattress that is filled with stuffed animals. you pat the spot next to you for him to take, and he does. “sorry if it’s messy.” you bite the inside of your mouth before speaking again. “now what? i was never a good host.”

“whatever you want to do.”

groaning, you get up and wipe your palms on your pants. “what i want to do is go pee. i’ll be right back.”

walking out of the room, you leave chris there alone. he rose himself off the bed and slowly walked around. he laughs to himself. he realized you became more comfortable with him again in the short hours you’ve been together, despite recent events. next to the closet door, there’s a bookshelf with a ton of books on it. the same bookshelf that was filled with dr. suess and harry potter. now, it’s filled with… interesting.

he leans down, reading the spines with furrowed brows. twisted games? the nanny? icebreaker?

stay curious for this one, chris.

next to the flatscreen TV on the wall, you have a lot of other stuff hanging up, one being your varsity award for volleyball. two pictures however stood out to him — besides the dinosaur with sunglasses painting you also have hung up. one of them is a polaroid of you and nate, recently took at the local fair. chris makes a face at that.

the other photo is of these two kids, roughly the age of seven. they look like twins; boy and girl. the rest of your family doesn’t live here, hence all of the pictures of them. because chris does nightly facebook searches to keep up, he noticed these are your cousin’s twins.

smiling softly, he thinks about how much you love your family. you’ve always been a family person, even if they aren’t here. he understands what that’s like. being in L.A. while everybody else is in boston sucks, but luckily they got a few months to be back home.

as he turns around to sit back down on the bed, he sees a notebook sticking out from under it. he doesn’t want to look through your belongings, but curiosity got the best of him. he bends over to pick it up and open it while lowering himself to sit down.

there is a note on the inside of the cover.

he skims through the pages to see how much you wrote and it is a good amount. he stops when the handwriting suddenly changes, meaning that you stopped writing for a while. the other entries had smudges on them except for the ones he landed on. this one must be new.

so, he started to read.

dear journal,

i’m sorry i ditched you for about a year and a half. i don't have an explanation for it, but lately, i’ve been itching to write. i remembered i had this journal - thanks to my cousin bethany for getting you for me for my 9th birthday. i know you’re an inanimate object, but i forgot how relaxing it is to write down my thoughts for nobody except myself.

i can’t help but cringe at what i wrote in the past, and i sincerely apologize.

“i can’t wait to marry kevin one day!”

“omg, he talked to me today!”

“i think we’re going to be together forever!”

i’m gagging just rethinking that moment. come on now.

anyway, life has been crazy lately. shoutout to the sturniolos for ditching me and acting like we didn’t grow up together! appreciate you guys for real. i’m exhausted.

the thing is, i always had trouble sleeping. i know i just said i’m exhausted, but it’s 3 AM and suddenly it feels like i’m wide awake. i just know i’m going to be grumpy for the next few days. a lot has happened ever since they left. i’ve changed, and i hate/love it at the same time.

i’ve been going out more, doing shit i shouldn’t. (don’t tell my parents…) something also happened a while ago that’s still a blur. i can’t put my finger on it. all i remember is that the police came to my door and asked me a ton of questions about somebody.

anyway, life has been happening too fast. i would appreciate it if it slows down a tad. on the upside, my mom said the rest of the family is coming here soon. i don’t know when, but soon. bethany would for sure be happy to hear i’ve started writing here again.

my thoughts are draining the second i write things on this paper, so i’m going to try and get sleep. i’ll update you whenever i can.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

me again: at approximately 4 AM. today has been something else, let me tell you. my mom came up to me yesterday and told me some unfortunate news. can you guess who’s back in town? if you guessed my lovely besties, you’re correct! and do you know whose birthday it is, meaning i have to go to the party? you’ve guessed it! my BFFs!

doesn’t help that i’m on my period right now. i can’t do this shit.

either way, i had to be there for nate. he’s the one that stuck around. marylou will forever be the original best friend in my opinion. she stuck around, too. it’s her children i got a bone to pick with. (except justin. he’s cool.)

seeing them in person for the first time in so long had me tweaking. i admit that i was a bitch to them at the party, and not to be a bitch now, but they deserved it. however, when i saw chris, my first thought was about how he’s such a cutie still. i hate my mind for that.

i tried to ignore them for the rest of the party, and it was semi-successful.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

you will not believe this. nick messaged me on instagram saying how sorry they were and asked to meet up at my house. for whatever reason, i said yes and they came over. we sort of cleared everything. key word, sort of.

they said they wanted me back in their life and apologized for what they did. i still need to give it time, but we do want to start hanging out again soon. i missed those dorks.

that’s until chris stopped me and asked for the note he wrote to me when we were little. the note he promised me to keep, and i obviously did. i’ll tape it here.

this little piece of paper is my favorite thing anybody ever gave to me.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

sorry, i left you hanging for a few days, a lot happened in such a short amount of time.

long story short, jaiden and claudia invited me to a party. chris texted me while i was there. he seemed a bit weirded out about why i was at finn yaw’s party, but i hope he knows i wasn’t there for any specific reason. i do appreciate that he cares about my well-being, even after the downfall.

i got home not long ago and he’s texting me as i’m writing this. he just asked me to hang out tomorrow which shocked me a little, but i said yes.

not going to lie, i’m excited to hang out with chris, even though i have no idea what we’re doing. hopefully, it goes well.

- y/n

chris snaps out of it as he hears you walking back into your room, making him shove the book back under the bed. he feels kind of honored to be a part of your little notebook. “sorry, that took longer than i wanted. i had to deal with something.” you say, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “why are you smiling like that?”

“smiling like what?”

“like… that,” you say, circling your finger that was pointing at his face.

“no reason.” he shrugs “anyway, what’s next on the y/n agenda?”

you look around the room while biting the inside of her cheek. “are you hungry? my dad made ribs last night and it’s to die for.”

jumping up from the bed, you motion him to follow you. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on the four light switches that are on the wall. you waltz over to the fridge and open it, going on your tippy toes to grab the container on the top shelf. “how many do you want?” you ask, going on your tippy toes once again to grab paper plates in the upper cabinet.

“three is fine. do you need help?”

you shake your head. “no, i got it.”

chris stands by the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room. he leans against it, watching you plop three ribs onto his plate and only one on yours. you take his plate in your hands and reach up to the microwave. you stick your tongue out and groan. you’re struggling because of how short you are since the microwave is on the wall above the oven.

“i got it.” he chuckles, grabbing the plate from your hand and sticking it in the microwave. his hand grazes the side of your arm as he puts in two minutes and presses start. you cross your arms without looking at him. “i could’ve gotten it.”

“yeah, right.”

sitting there for two minutes feels like ten before the microwave finally goes off. you start running to the microwave but he stops you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself by reaching for it. i got it.”

he takes the plate out and feels a rib with his finger. he nods. “it’s good.”

“okay.” you say with a low tone. he looks towards you to see you staring at your rib that still lies cold on the plate. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t think i want this anymore.” you quickly open the container, plop it back in, and stick it back in the fridge.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 sitting in your room, matt had to come pick his brother up. you and chris are currently standing on the front porch, having one last word with each other. matt is waiting in the van at the end of the stairs.

“it was nice hanging out with you again,” you say shyly. “we should get everybody back together soon.”

“i agree.” he smiles “i’m sure i’ll text you later.”

getting closer to him, you pull him into a hug. it was abrupt, but he hugged you back of course.

then, the horn of the van beeps causing you to jump and pull away. “can you hurry the fuck up? nick is waiting for us at home and is obnoxiously annoying. mom also made dinner.” matt screams from the window.

“i’ll see you around,” chris says, jogging down the stairs. he gets in the passenger seat and grabs the seat belt to strap himself in. matt waves to you, which you graciously return.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 them to get home. they live close to your house, and the duration is no longer than five minutes. he takes off his shoes at the door as his phone vibrates from getting a text.

y/n😶‍��️

thanks for today

i had fun :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws

#[ ✿ ] promise?#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff

272 notes · View notes

incarnadin3 · 3 months ago

Text

How Obey Me Brothers realized they were in love with MC: Part One, Lucifer

A/N: This idea was in my brain for a while so I decided why not write it? Also, am I the only one who writes well in their head but struggles to write it on paper??? Like wtf should I yap on here.

Lucifer: The Mighty Firstborn

Since Lucifer was the first born, all the major responsibilities were naturally given to him. From paying bills, and managing Mammon's spending, to ensuring the House of Lamentation was running properly, it was quite a lot for the Avatar of Pride.

But his pride refused to let him show weakness, instead working himself overtime to stay on top of things, which often led to him burning himself out, like today.

Mammon had somehow managed to steal Lord Diavolo's card and spent a hefty amount on gambling. While the Prince seemed unfazed, perhaps even a bit amused by the ordeal, Lucifer had been livid.

After lecturing and tying him up to the ceiling as usual, he had been working through a stack of papers, ranging from letters from angry witches demanding their money back from Mammon, to debts that had to be payed because of his greedy brother.

As the moon rose higher in the sky, the stack of papers did not seem to lower, towering over him, waiting to be reviewed.

Even though it didn't outwardly appear that Lucifer loved his brothers, at heart, he really truly did.

Which was currently the reason why he had Mammon's homework in front of him, one of the many he had forgotten to do in his haste to go gambling.

Lucifer sighed, scribbling in the answers, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly at the messy handwriting. Mammon wasn't one to have good handwriting, and if Lucifer wanted to pretend that Mammon was the one who wrote in th answers, he had to copy his handwriting.

As soon as he wrote the last few words, his pen instantly slipped from his fingers, and his head dropped forward onto his desk, and he was knocked out cold.

The next day, as he discreetly slid the homework papers into Mammon's bag before the teacher began to collect them, he realized that in his haste to do Mammon's homework, he had forgotten to do his. Him, Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, the Mighty Firstborn, the one who never missed a single assignment, was about to get berated for not doing his homework.

He tensed up as the Teacher approached, nodding approvingly as she took Mammon's homework, then held out her hand expectantly at Lucifer, wait for him to hand in his homework.

"𝘐…𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬…."

"𝘌𝘹-𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦?"the teacher stammered, staring at him as if he head sprouted two heads.

He merely sighed, his head dropping as he heard Mammon snicker in the background. Suddenly he heard another voice intervene.

"Teacher! Lucifer did do his homework! I accidentally took it thinking it was mine!"

Lucifer just stared in surprise, confusion, and shock as you gave an embarrassed smile, holding out the homework, his name written across the top. He watched as the teacher glared and lectured you on not stealing other's homework and passing it off as their own, even if it was by mistake.

As the class continued, he could barely focus, as he noticed you place a comforting hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing it in comfort as they continued their lesson. As he finally began writing his notes in for the class, a small note suddenly got slipped into his hands.

We all appreciate your efforts, especially your brothers. You are truly amazing for doing what you did. We love you -MC

Lucifer couldn't help but blush slightly, a few tears at the corners of his eyes, as he reread each kind word.

He looked sideways at MC, who was ever so focused on their notes, thoughtfully chewing their bottom lip as the worked. It was at this moment that he realized that he truly loved you, and would be willing to kill for them.

After Lilith's death, it was as if no one wanted to appreciate his efforts. True, his sin made it harder to express himself, but his brothers refused to even try to understand him or appreciate why he did what he did. But today, seeing you go out of your way to appreciate him, made him realize that maybe, just maybe, there was some happiness in store for him.

#obey me #x you #x reader #x y/n #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me nightbringer #obey me leviathan #obey me simeon #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me fluff #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #obey me luci x reader #obey me luci x mc #obey me mc

315 notes · View notes

ginevrapng · 10 months ago

Text

you write fwb!james letters. you don't see each other in most classes and thanks to james don't pass each other in the hallways either because of that you slip him letters other ways. when you are in the same class you go past his desk and slip a note under his unopened textbook. you'll transfigure your notes into different things, over time james has gotten use to having things turn up in his bag that he swears he doesn't own before he realises it's you transfiguring different things and he swears every time you make it your mission to transfigure it into weirder and weirder things, he won't know how to explain it if someone ever saw a muggle garden gnome in his bag.

every time he reads your notes he has to make sure he's alone and no one will come in and interrupt him, not just because they're notes from you but also because said notes make his trousers tighten and his cheeks red, thinking about all the things you wrote to him and imagining what he'd do if you were there with him.

"i saw you in charms today and you looked pretty, i wanted to drag you out of the classroom and kiss you until our lips looked swollen and we have to separate to breathe." james thought you looked pretty that day too.

"i went to see your quidditch game. you're actually pretty good. your hair was even more messy than normal though." when james read that he flung himself on his bed, holding the back of his hand to his forehead, grinning. you don't like quidditch. you came anyway.

"when do you think we'll see each other next?" soon, he hopes.

"i think i'm starting my period, my breasts are tender :( you're always good with your hands." the implications makes his head fuzzy. he'd absolutely look after you, he'd touch you gently and make you feel better. he'd hug you softly if you'd let him and do anything that'll help you feel a bit better.

"can you touch me in history of magic again?"

"some information that you might want to know: i'm on birth control."

"next time i see you i want to give you a blowjob. you didn't take your shirt off last time but you have to next time, it's not fair."

james mumbles, "you're killing me" under his breath.

he can't bring himself to ever throw the letters away, they're from you. he sometimes reread the letters late at night while jerking off and thinking of you and the things he'll do the next time he'll see you. he doesn't regret keeping the letters... he doesn't... that is until sirius found them at least.

opening up one james' drawers next to his bedside table he finds your letters to him, curiously sirius glances at the first note and a cocky smirk appears on his face. sirius picks up the whole pile of letters and waves it in the air. "prongs," he says in a singsong voice, "what's this?"

james looks up and sees his friend holding up the notes you've sent to him. he panics but he hides it well, looking away back at the marauders map where he was previously spying on filch.

"i've been fucking with snivellus. i've been sending him love letters." he keeps his tone as even as he can, sirius can't know they're from you.

"this isn't your handwriting james," he replies still smirking.

"anybody can change their handwriting sirius." james says still looking down but he hasn't been paying attention to the map as soon as sirius found the letters.

he doesn't say anything for a second until, "fair enough." sirius plops down on the bed next to james looking over his shoulder at the map. "why didn't you tell the rest of us though?" sirius questions suddenly as he just thought about it.

"didn't think it was that important." james doesn't know if sirius will believe him so before sirius can think it through james starts talking about their quidditch game coming up.

sirius has no reason to doubt james in the end and even gives him ideas in the following weeks to write to snape. he'll have to be more careful next time with hiding your notes, he still won't throw them away though.

#james potter x reader #james potter smut #james potter hc #fwb!james #james potter fic #james potter x reader smut #james potter x you #marauders smut #marauders fic #♡ james #hp #harry potter #hp x reader #harry potter x reader #hp x reader smut #harry potter x reader smut #my man was nearly caught <3 #♡ mine / writing #don’t let the muggles get queue down

521 notes · View notes

sports-on-sundays · 4 months ago

Note

I’m sorry Ik request are closed but o really need a part 2 of Lando and Oscar

one for two / LN4 & OP81 / Part 2

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - The drama ensues. Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Picks up straight after where part 1 left off. Takes place from Monaco GP 2024 to Spanish GP 2024. Short time frame, but a lot happens.

Warnings: mention of vomiting, crying, "I'll kill you" joke, swearing, very slight innuendo, if I missed anything let me know

Requested?: Yes, by this anon, everyone who answered in the poll in a way, and by @gracielukey

Author's Note: Fret not, I will be writing a part 3!

“Wait, Y/n, one second-” you hear behind you as a hand wraps itself around your arm. You look back to see Oscar Piastri beaming at you with a smile worth a ton of gold on his face. He’s out of his race suit and now back in regular street clothes: a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and an expensive black watch on his wrist. “I still haven’t given you your birthday gift yet.”

Oh, yeah, that’s right.

Earlier, when both McLaren boys had snatched each of your hands, pulling you in separate directions, both thoroughly excited to show you whatever gift they’ve gotten for you for your birthday, which just so happens to be today, the Monaco Grand Prix, you had shook them both off and waved them on to go do their PR duties.

For once in your life, as someone who is in marketing in McLaren, you got to do a fraction of your actual job concerning the two drivers, and not play the part of both their dramatic love interest.

Yet here you are again, looking back at a handsome Australian boy with earnest brown eyes, waiting for you to come with him so you can see your present.

You sigh, smiling. “Alright, Oscar. Show me this present of mine.”

He leads you to his driver’s room, where he holds the door for you to follow him in, and gently shuts it.

You have a jolting memory of the last time you were led into a driver’s room and the door was shut behind you, and the driver was saying he had something for you. It had been Lando’s driver’s room in Miami, after he won the race, and, well, you’ll never forget what the gift he had for you had been.

Lando’s kiss.

Though it didn’t really change anything at all, it seemed to change absolutely everything.

And now, just standing here, watching Oscar rummage around in his piles and bags of contained mess, you can’t help yourself from blushing as the memory floods back to you.

Oscar snaps you out of your dreams, though, when he straightens, holding up a small box that fits in his palm and a white envelope, and says, “Here… Don’t know if it’s your type of thing, but…”

“Jewelry?” you raise your eyebrows, eyeing the box.

He nods. “I don’t see you wearing jewelry a whole ton, but I thought you might really like this, regardless.”

You smile. “Usually I save it for special occasions, but I like wearing jewelry. Now, let’s see this card here…” He hands it to you, and you open it up. Oscar watches you intently as you begin reading his not-too-messy, not-too-neat handwriting.

Dear Y/n,

I just want to take this opportunity to say how much I appreciate you. You, as a person. Everything about you, I love. Your teasing, your jokes, your playfulness. Your hard work and dedication. You’re so understanding and kind. I love how gentle you are, yet also tough. You’re the perfect balance, for me and for anyone. You have the softest, most beautiful, caring heart, but a tough skin, too, and you can hold your own. You’re so strong and capable, too. I admire you in so many ways.

I love being with you. Time spent with you is my favorite time. Whether we’re just laying or sitting somewhere together, basking in each other’s silence and simply company, or going out somewhere, exploring someplace, and experiencing something together. I love it. I adore it. I love being with you.

Sometimes, I think about when we were little kids. I think about how we’d sit together and whine about how hard it is to be an older sibling, or how this or that rule by our parents was stupid. I remember playing with you, exploring. Even then, Y/n, we were forming a bond, and I think it’s beautiful. I hope we stay like this forever. Together.

I just want to be with you.

I remember as I got older and I moved, I missed you so much. So, so much. We stayed in touch, but you don’t know how much was missing without you always by my side. It’s like in a way you complete me.

I’m so glad that fate and time and whatever else all worked together that today, right now, you can be with me, on your twenty-third birthday. Twenty-three years, Y/n, I’ve known you. You’ve been my best friend. Somehow, we always keep running into each other. Like as if time and space and the universe knows we’re meant to be with each other, for each other, and it won’t let us be separated for too long. Like me and you have a magnet.

I love it, Y/n, and I hope you do, too.

I also love how beautiful you are. Your stunning eyes when they look straight into mine. The way you look over your shoulder and wink teasingly. The way your eyebrows scrunch together when you’re working hard or trying to figure something out. The way you flip your hair, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you laugh, and the way your touch feels; I love every single little ‘way’ about you. You are it, everything I want. I don’t know what you feel, but I know that for years, I knew it.

I knew I’m supposed to be with you.

If you don’t think so, that’s okay. But just know what I know. Because for years I was terrified to say it, but now, I know.

I know this, Y/n:

I love you. I always have, and I always will.

Yours truly, Oscar Jack Piastri 5/26/24

As you read the last words, you feel a lump forming in your throat as you softly gasp, “Oscar…”

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit over the top,” he says right away with a slightly nervous chuckle. “I don’t mean to seem sappy. I should have just left it at ‘happy birthday’...”

“No, no-”

“I just had a lot to say, I guess,” Oscar mutters, glancing down. “A lot to say, to make up for the years of staying silent.”

“Oh, Oscar, stop!” you laugh, your voice cracking as you suddenly throw your arms around him in a tight embrace. You feel your eyes begin to water as you squeeze them shut tightly and bury your head in his shoulder, murmuring, “This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read, Osc… You’re going to make me cry…”

As you hug him, it’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. He wraps his arms around you back, his hand slowly, absently beginning to rub your back.

You sniff a bit, whispering close to his ear, “That’s just about the most beautiful thing I’ve read… Oscar, I- I, um… I-” love you, too, your brain screams, begging your lips to form the words. You love him, Y/n. You know you do. Just say the words. Just say them.

But you finish with, “I- Thank you so much, Oscar. Thank you.”

He nods, resting his cheek on your head for a few seconds, before murmuring, “Why don’t you open the gift now?”

You nod, slowly leaning away. You mop up your eyes with your hands before taking the box. You slowly open it and gasp when you see a sparkling green gemstone inside, attached to a golden chain. “Oscar…” you breathe. “It’s beautiful…” You slowly begin taking it out of the box.

“Emerald, for May, on a gold necklace chain.”

You stop taking it out of the box to freeze and look up in surprise, eyes wide. “Real emerald? Real gold?!”

“Yes,” Oscar chuckles. “Yes, Y/n. It’s a real emerald on a real gold chain.”

Your jaw drops as you blubber, “Oscar… Oh my God, Oscar… you didn’t have to…”

“I think you’ve forgotten I can afford it. And I would spend any amount of money, if it was for you. But do you like it?”

“What do you mean?!” you exclaim. “What sort of question is that? Of course I like it! I love it!”

At that, the young McLaren driver immediately beams. “Here- want me to put it on you?” You nod vigorously, so Oscar takes the necklace gently from your hands and reaches around your neck to clasp it on you. You feel his soft hands briefly brush the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, before he takes them away and leans back to view you. “It looks lovely on you. Compliments your features.”

“You really think so?”

He grins with a soft chuckle. “Y/n, I know so.”

Once you’re done sitting with Oscar for a bit after that, just being with him, you exit his driver’s room into the hallway with a tired but contented sigh. You tuck Oscar’s note and the box the necklace came in into your pants pocket, about to get going and continue on with your life, when, once again, you’re interrupted.

You suddenly feel two strong arms wrapping around you from behind as the scent of Lando’s cologne fills your nostrils. He leans close to your ear, rocking you a bit, before murmuring in a gentle, concerned voice, “Hey, Y/n… How are you?”

You smile softly, feeling his warmth against your back. “I’m alright,” you sigh, your head still slightly in the clouds about Oscar’s note and gift.

Lando unwraps his arms from around you and gently guides you by your shoulders to turn around and face him. “What were you doing, hm?” he suddenly asks softly.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“In Oscar’s driver’s room. I saw you leave.” His tone is in no way accusatory. Just genuinely concerned.

“Nothing,” you frown, licking your lips. “Why do you care?”

He crosses his arms, the concern mostly falling off his face now as he says simply, reaching up to drag his thumb under your eye, “Because of this.” He holds up his thumb to show the chalky smeared mascara on it. “And because of the redness around your eyes. Are you okay?” The concern comes flooding back as he lifts his other hand to gently touch your cheek. “Did something happen? Did Oscar do something? Y/n, you know you can tell me. You know you can trust me.”

But you can’t help yourself but chuckle. In a way, it’s sweet how caring and worried Lando is acting, looking out for you like that. But also kind of funny that Lando thinks Oscar Piastri even has the capacity to do you any harm, at least not on purpose. So you say, “No, no, Lando! Don’t worry! I’m not upset! Those were happy tears!”

Lando doesn’t look much less concerned, though. “What made you so happy?” he asks carefully.

You sigh, figuring there’s no reason to not tell Lando, at least partially the truth. “Oscar just gave me a super sweet birthday gift is all.”

“Oh,” Lando nods slowly. “What was it?”

You smile and point at the necklace hanging around your neck, resting perfectly in the middle of your chest. “This…”

“Oh,” Lando says again, this time more impressed, looking down at it. “That… It looks beautiful on you.”

You smile wider. “Thanks.”

But then the British man swallows. “I know you’re probably tired and wanting to get back to your hotel room, but I have a gift for you, too.”

“Just make sure it’s not a kiss this time,” you softly tease. “I don’t think my heart can take it right now.”

“No, no, of course not. I actually bought you something for your birthday!” the Brit chuckles, his hand naturally falling to the small of your back as he leads you to his driver’s room. He keeps the door hanging open, though, and you’re sure that’s intentional, to give you more of a sense of reassurance. You appreciate it. “Alright!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” You shrug and obey, doing so. You feel him place some light, small item in your hand, before he says, “Alright! Open!”

You chuckle as you open your eyes, teasing, “What was the point of having me close my eyes?”

“So it was a surprise! Now look at what I got you, for God’s sake, Y/n!” he rolls his eyes jokingly.

You look down at the little card in your hand, shaped like a credit card. You bring it to your face and study it, until your eyes widen when you recognize what it is. “Lando, is this…?”

He grins broader as he sees the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It is.”

“You didn’t have to!” you laugh. A gift card for a free weekend to a luxury spa. You’ve often told Lando how nice it’d be to have a spa day, just relaxing and letting the weight off your shoulders.

But you weren’t expecting it as a birthday gift! And you definitely weren't expecting some expensive luxurious place, and for a whole weekend!

“And,” he smiles, reaching in his pocket to pull out a second, identical card which he places in your hand, too, “A second one, because I figured it’d be no fun alone, so you could bring one of your girl friends or something.”

You throw your arms around Lando and peck his cheek, which is a lot more of an easy thing to do with Lando than it is with Oscar. Oscar, you’re more emotionally connected with. But physically and romantically, you’re a lot more connected to Lando. Lando giggles as you exclaim, “How’d you even think to do this?”

He shrugs. “You talk about it. And you work constantly, so damn hard, you deserve a break. You don’t get enough credit for all you do. Take a weekend to just relax and enjoy, hm?”

You smile and shut your eyes, nuzzling your face into his neck, loving the sentiment, loving the gift, and loving Lando’s attitude in recognizing how hard you do work.

It feels so good to simply be appreciated.

The day after the Monaco Grand Prix, that Monday, Oscar texts you, asking you if you'd like the meet up before you have to go back to the U.K.

You're leaving tomorrow, so it had to be a yes.

Now you sit next to Oscar in his car, in the parking lot, as you buckle your seat belt and Oscar absently drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

Finally you break the silence with, "So, what's the plan, Stan?"

"Um..." Oscar begins, and just by one quick glance, you can see the deep thought written across his face as he looks forward out the windshield.

And you're right. The Aussie's thoughts are raging, about only one thing. And that thing, of course, being you.

He bites his lip, feeling a pang of slight desperation, but mostly just indescision.

He thought the nice note he wrote you for your birthday would've... given more of a reaction. Or maybe the necklace would've pulled at your heartstrings a little more. Just... Just a hug felt wrong to Oscar.

Why doesn't she love me back?

I whisper of a thought in his mind responds, Maybe it's got to do with Lando. Maybe she just simply doesn't love you because she loves Lando more.

He swallows a lump in his throat, pushing that thought out of his mind with, No, Oscar. She said she's got nothing more with Lando than she's got with you. You need to trust her. You know you love her. Therefore, trust her.

Of course, naturally, Oscar has no idea that he really shouldn't trust you.

Prompted by his thoughts, Oscar suddenly asks you, ignoring your own question, "Did Lando get you anything for your birthday? Just asking, because, you know, he had said he had something...?"

"Oh, yeah!" you exclaim. Oscar can't help but recognize the way your face lights up at the mention of merely Lando's name. You continue, "He got me a free weekend to a spa for two people!"

"Oh. You're going to a spa with him?" Oscar says slightly absently.

You laugh. "No, he suggested probably one of my friends. Lando would've told me if he wanted to go."

"Ah, right. Of course."

"Oscar?" you suddenly say, concerned, leaning closer. You place your hand on top of Oscar's drumming fingers on the wheel, forcing the nervous movement to stop. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmmm..." he sighs. Oscar, you've just got to make a move. A real move. Lando is loud, impulsive, fun. He wouldn't second guess.

Maybe you should take a hint from Lando.

Maybe she just needs to see, feel, experience me.

That doesn't sound right.

That doesn't sound like me.

Oscar closes his eyes, leaning back, entwining his fingers around your hand.

I'm not Lando Norris. So is that it?

That's it. I'm just not Lando Norris.

But despite the proclamation in his head, he snaps himself out of it. "Just... thinking back on the race. Sorry."

"Are you sure you're okay, Osc?" you lean in, more concerned.

It's like Oscar can feel his heart being squeezed, warmed. And another, louder, sudden thought enters his mind:

You won't let her go, Oscar, and you know that. You'll fight for her. You'll change for her.

You'll never be Lando Norris, but maybe you've just got to quit overthinking and start acting.

"Alright!" he says, a quite sudden smile appearing on his face as he squeezes your hand. "Yeah, I'm sure." He smiles, bringing your hand to his mouth to gently kiss the back of it.

He doesn't really see the blush on your cheeks when he does that.

He lets go of your hand and says, "Alrighty, let's go. I've got somewhere to bring you."

When you get to the destination, you laugh. "Oscar, it's just a park! You made it seem like you had this big thing planned."

"Oh," he smiles a bit. "Well, sorry. Do you have something against parks?"

"No- I'm just saying-"

"Yes, sure, whatever." He suddenly snatches your hand as he says, "Let's just go for a nice walk."

It's not common for Oscar to just take your hand like that, so confidently. Lando? Sure, all the time. But not really Oscar...

But you kind of like it.

As you walk, you just chat, until you're sure you've walked the entirety of Monaco before Oscar finally gestures to a lone bench in a solitary area, and you sit down together, hands still latched.

But you let go of his, saying with a chuckle, "I just... You know, my hands are sweaty."

"Oh, sure, of course. Mine probably are, too," he responds, running a hand through his hair.

You watch him intently as he does this, and reply a few seconds too late, "Oh, no, no, they're not! I like your hands."

And you immediately blush at the fact you actually just told Oscar Piastri that.

But he looks over with that little crooked teasing smile of his and says, "Do you?"

You grin back and shrug. "Hell yeah."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind, then."

That makes your mind immediately wander to what he could mean, and you feel bad for what you immediately think of.

Regardless, your face flushes.

And then Oscar makes the decision that he's wanted to make for months, and probably years. His twinkling eye meets yours as he says, "You like my hands? Well I like your lips."

Your breath catches and butterflies well up in your stomach as Oscar leans in closer. His hand gently cups your chin as he looks you straight in your eyes, his softening by the second.

In the exact moment that he should just lean in and kiss you, he hesitates and asks, "Is it okay if I-"

"Oscar! Yes!" you say without thinking.

Yeah, yeah. There you go again. Not thinking again, in the exact moments that you should think about it the most.

Oscar leans in, his head tilting to the side slightly as his soft lips meet yours. Your head spins as he strokes your cheek.

It's not too long and not too short. He pulls away, gazing warmly into your eyes.

There was something different about Oscar's kiss. Lando kissed you and kept kissing you, as if he couldn't get enough. Oscar stopped as soon as he knew it was the perfect time for both of you to pull away. Lando's kiss was hungry, Oscar's wasn't really. He enjoyed it, but...

You don't know.

Oscar's more romantic.

You feel simply by the way he looks at you...

You feel like a jewel. You feel beautiful.

Physically, Lando's kiss was probably better. But emotionally, Oscar's...?

You never knew Oscar could be this romantic. But, to be honest with yourself, Lando's kiss was hotter. Sexier.

God, you loved both.

You groan, falling into Oscar, throwing your arms around him.

Y/n! Y/n! You're comparing the kissing styles of the two guys you kissed without the other knowing!

They both think you're theirs!

"Are you okay?" Oscar immediately asks. "Listen, I'm sorry- Oh, God, listen-"

"No! Oscar, thank you..." you blurt shakily, leaning back to look at him.

"Uh... you're welcome..." He falters, before saying, "So... does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

Oh, God.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I'm ready for that- uh-" you begin nervously.

"Right," comes the brown eyed boy's curt response.

Oscar Piastri's vague clean scent fills your nostrils. Or perhaps it's the clean hotel sheets you lay in next to him. His soft touch massages your hand as you hum a song.

You know all the words, but you forgot the tune.

In another reality, he would kiss you and hold you and call you his. You would say without a fragment of a doubt that you are his girlfriend.

Like an arrow to your heart, his voice asks you once more: "Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

You're leaning against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, British voice speaking but saying nothing, and you begin, "Oh, uh, I-"

You wake up with a start, gasping. The last thing you remember of your dream was laying with Lando, about to tell him you love him.

What the hell, Y/n?

“What’s up?” you ask as you answer your vibrating cellphone.

Lando Norris on the other end responds, “Nothing much. What’s up with you.”

“Dunno. Just packing up to get ready to be leaving Monaco. But why’d you call?”

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Lando suddenly says. “Why’re you leaving Monaco so early? Come on, now!”

You sigh with a little smile, rolling your eyes as you throw another shirt in your suitcase. “Lando, this country is uber expensive. There’s no way I’m staying here any longer than I have to. The hotel price is ridiculous, and the rest of the team is leaving, anyway.”

Lando tsks before saying, “Come on, now. You won’t have to pay for a hotel room for extra days, you know. You can stay at my place, duh.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, Lando. You really want me to stay in Monaco.”

“Of course I do. But you know I’d let you stay at my place anytime.”

“Mmmhm. I know…”

“So? What do you say?” Lando asks.

You hesitate, before saying, "Lan, I already told the team I'd be leaving on the plane with them..."

“For God’s sake, Y/n, then tell them you’re not, check out of that damn hotel room, and c’mere!”

“Come where?!” you ask in slight exasperation.

“Where do you think? My flat!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do that, jeez. Text me your address. But God, why are you getting so worked up about this?”

There’s more silence before the Monaco resident says softer, “I just really want to see you, is all.”

You raise your eyebrows and say softer as you zip up your suitcase. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Not good enough for you, princess?” he teases.

“No,” you breathe, a slight smile forming on your face as warmth spreads across it. “No, that’s perfectly, one hundred percent, all the way, good enough for me.”

“Good.” You can hear the grin in Lando’s voice. “Then I’ll see you in a bit, you beauty.”

When you arrive at his flat and he opens the door, Lando wraps his arms around you, patting your back, before letting you go. “Hey, wanna come to the living room?”

“Sure,” you nod, taking in the rooms you go through as he leads you to the living space. You’ve never been in Lando’s flat before, but you have to say, it is thoroughly impressive. Soon, you’re in the living room, and the two of you plop down on the couch together. You sink into it and lean back, saying, “This is comfy.”

Lando just takes your hand and says, “Thanks.”

But you look up at him with a soft teasing smile. “So, are you going to tell me why on earth you suddenly got so clingy? You’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in three years! Just as a reminder, it was just two days ago.”

But Lando smirks, shrugging, and says teasingly, “Maybe I’m just a little obsessed…?”

“Obsessed?” you smile wider, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Oh, don’t flatter me.”

“Aw, why not? You’re cute when you’re blushing…”

“Lando, stop,” you snort, then add, “We’re supposed to be friends. I don’t think friends say this kind of shit to each other.”

“I like the way you say, ‘we’re supposed to be,’” the race car driver begins.

“Lando! We are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be!” you respond firmer, but deep down, you have your doubts. Your extreme doubts. Because being with Lando, it never feels like a friendship anymore, and you both know everyday you get closer and closer to finally just admitting you’re dating.

And the only reason why you haven’t yet is because of the certain someone in the way. Oscar Piastri, the sweet Australian boy from your childhood and teenage dreams.

Who kissed you like he meant it yesterday at around this time.

You feel your stomach lurch at the thought.

How can I so shamelessly act like this with Lando, when I know twenty-four hours ago I kissed Oscar back?

You jump when Lando says, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, “Is something wrong?"

You look up in slight surprise, eyes wide. “Uh- of course not. Why do you ask?"

But Lando's frown deepens. "Y/n, stop that. You know I know you're lying. I can see it on your face when something is bothering you."

You bite your lip. "Nothing is."

Lando heaves a big sigh before suddenly pulling you into his lap.

You flinch and lean away in extreme embarrassment, "Lando, what-"

"Just let me hug you, hm? You always say you're fine when you're not and I just want to help you. Let me at least hug you."

You sigh deeply and slowly let yourself lean into him. He strokes your hairline gently, and begins rambling. Lando Rambling, but in a gentle whisper.

You swallow back the huge lump in your throat, and despite your squeezed shut eyes and your raging mind, it's nice.

Until Lando is gently shaking you, and your eyes flutter open as you realize you had fallen into a calm, dreamless sleep against him. You feel his soft, nearly heavenly chuckle vibrating in your ear before you lean your head off his chest slowly. "Rise and shine, princess. You went right to sleep."

You yawn. "Shit, sorry about that..."

But Lando beams. "It's okay. It was cute. And do you feel a bit better now?"

You sigh and nod. "Yeah. I do, actually."

"Good," he grins, eyes twinkling, and leans in to give you a kiss on your cheek. "You probably just needed a nice big long nap."

You sigh.

If only it was as simple as that, Lando.

When I'm with Oscar, he seems like the obvious choice. But then I'm with Lando and he's so sweet and caring and loving and understanding and lighthearted and fun and handsome and perfect and-

And then he seems like the obvious choice.

Oh, Oscar. I couldn't stand to break your heart of gold, though.

And suddenly you freeze as Lando seems to read your mind for a second time, his voice saying softly near your ear, "Is it okay if I call Oscar?"

You snap your head back to meet Lando's eyes. "What reason have you got to call Oscar...?"

“So he can come over.”

You stare at him like he’s the craziest man alive. “Come again?”

“So he can come over and join us, Y/n. But you heard me the first time.”

“What’s your problem?” you asked quite bluntly.

“What’s yours?”

You stare at Lando, completely at a loss for words. Feeling slightly called out, to be honest. You breath deeply, before, with much effort, finally forming the sentence under Lando’s expectant gaze, “Lando, you know that Oscar thinks we’re dating. Even though we’re obviously not. If Oscar shows up… Lando, there’s too much drama you don’t know about. That wouldn’t-”

Lando raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, and says, “I know more than you think I do.”

You swallow, anxiously licking your lips. “Why do you want Osc over?”

“I’ve got some things to talk about with you. And him. With the two of you.”

Your face scrunches up as you ask hopefully, “About work?”

“Nope,” Lando says sternly as he opens his phone, scrolling his contacts, looking for Oscar’s.

You’re starting to get nervous. Real nervous. “Lando, please,” you begin, your voice laced with a certain amount of fear as you take the man’s hand. “Lando, what are you trying to do? Why? Lando, I… I’m not ready… Can you talk to me first?”

Lando looks up at you. “You clearly know what I’m doing, then, otherwise you wouldn’t be so panicked.”

“Of course I do…” you breathe. How the hell did it come to this?

Why did I think Lando was stupider than this? To not see the writing on the wall? To not see what’s clear as day?

Lando leans in closer, wrapping both his hands around yours. He stares you straight in your eyes. Everything about his actions is gentle, but his voice is painfully stern as he begins nearly whispering, “Y/n. I’m sick of this, and Oscar is, too. And you’ve had enough of this, too, whether you think you have or you haven't. I understand to a certain degree what’s been going on, but I don’t think Oscar has allowed himself to. We need to, the three of us, talk this over and figure this out. Pretending isn’t going to do you any good any longer, Y/n. And I think me and Oscar can both agree on the fact that we just want the best for you, yeah? So I know this is hard, but if you wait any longer, the situation will just get worse and worse. And now I’ve figured you out, so let’s just deal with this together, the three of us, and be honest. Okay?”

You hesitate as your eyes start to water.

You feel like you want to throw up.

I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted it to come to this. I just wanted it to work itself out on it’s own. I didn’t want Lando or Oscar to know. I wanted to figure it out alone.

“Lando,” you sniff, your voice cracking. Lando leans over to one of the end tables to grab a tissue, which he uses to wipe a tear rolling down your cheek. As you continue to cry, he hands the tissue to you and begins holding your hand as you use the other to rest your heavy head against it.

You sit there together for a while as you just cry, working through the emotions of the last months. Once you’re finally done, Lando says gently, “It might not get any easier, but please, Y/n. If you’re honest with me and Oscar, I hope you know that we’ll always be ready to help you and be there for you.”

“I know that…” you sniff. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose either of you, Lando. I can’t stand to imagine losing either of you.”

Lando nods slowly, and murmurs, “I can’t speak for Oscar, but just so you know, whatever happens, no matter what, you’ll always be my friend. And I’ll always be there for you. M’kay?”

You nod slowly, wiping your eyes one last time, those words providing just enough comfort for the time being.

“Alright,” Lando says, gently patting your hand. “Can I call Oscar? I’m sure I’ll be able to convince him to come over.”

“Yeah,” you smile weakly. “Unless he’s still sleeping.”

Lando nods and grins as he picks up his phone again to call Oscar Piastri.

When Lando goes to open the door, you follow close behind him, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. When he does open it, a surprised Oscar immediately sees you behind him and exclaims your name in shock. "Why are you here?"

"I invited her, too," Lando replies confidently, as if this is all completely normal, looking Oscar straight in his sweet brown eyes.

"Ah," Oscar nods slowly. "I can see that." He smiles awkwardly at you as Lando brings him in. He mostly just looks thoroughly confused, but doesn't take his eyes off you for a second.

Soon, you're all seated around Lando's dining room table, you and Oscar on one side, facing a lone Lando on the other side, feeling like you're about to be interrogated.

While Lando doesn't ask, 'Where were you at the time of the murder?' he does say, "I think we've all got some thing to be honest about. Oscar, I mentioned it on the phone to you, but I think all three of us have got some... stuff to discuss."

Neither you or Oscar say anything. You're too nervous to speak, and Oscar's too confused.

Lando sighs, seeing neither you or Oscar have nothing much to say, and says, "Alright, then." He slaps his palms down on the table. "Oscar, you and Y/n... You'd like to date her, yeah?"

Immediately Oscar's eyes widen, and his hand tightens around his cellphone in his hand as his pale cheeks redden. "I- What sort of-"

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Oscar admits carefully, but sort of bluntly.

"I'd like to date Y/n, too."

Oscar stares at Lando. His grip on his phone tightens slightly, but that's the only sign of a reaction his body shows as he says softer, "Well, of course."

Lando's gaze averts to you.

You sigh. The awkwardness in the air is making it stuffy and hard to breathe. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.

"Y/n?" Lando prompts.

Your words get caught in your throat, and instead comes out a weak cough.

Apparently Oscar takes it as a sob, because immediately his hand is on your back, and he's leaning close, saying softly, "Y/n. Are you okay?"

As you bury your face in your hands and nod, you don't catch the dirty look Oscar throws Lando, and Lando's effort to ignore it. Once you've caught your breath, you barely get out, "I love you both."

Oscar's hand slips off your back as Lando reaches across the table to take your hand in his.

"I- you-" Oscar begins, before his eyes turn on Lando. "You knew about this, Lando? You knew?" You can feel the stress and, frankly, anger, radiating off of him as Oscar says, turning to you, "Y/n, I told you if you loved Lando, you could let me go. I would've taken it..." He runs a hand through his hair. "I would've. Y/n, I swear I would've. Why'd you have to play with my heartstrings? Why'd you do that, Y/n? Why'd you do that to m-"

"Oscar, stop!" Lando suddenly snaps, standing up. "Don't you see the state she's in? This is harder for her than it is for you!"

"Just stop fighting," you barely whisper.

Neither men hear you as Lando grabs Oscar's wrist and tells you sternly, "Y/n, you just stay here. I'm gonna go talk with Oscar alone, if that's fine."

But Lando doesn't wait for your input before he tugs Oscar out of the room and slams the door behind him. You suppose it wouldn't matter much anyway. It's not like you would have any idea what to say, anyway, if you'd have been given the chance.

You stare ahead in a strange mixture of regret and dread. Fear of past decisions and fear of future decisions, too.

After the door slams, unbeknownst to you, Lando immediately shoves Oscar against the wall and snaps, "What the hell, man?"

A long breath exits Oscar's lungs as he stares back into Lando's hazel eyes. "What?" he sighs.

"Don't you see she's in distress? Give the girl a break-"

"I need to give her a break? Lando, I kissed her. Do you think I would've fucking done that if I knew she was seeing you? We can both say it was all friendships all along, but we also both know this's bullshit." Oscar gulps before muttering, "She's a fucking cheater."

"No, she's not!" Lando suddenly defends. "You just don't understand."

"Yeah! Clearly I don't," Oscar says gruffly.

"So are you going to let me explain what I think went on?"

"Why don't we hear it straight from her? You could very well be biased."

"Do you think she wants to say it? Oscar," Lando sighs. "Won't you just listen to me?"

Lando watches as the Australian bites his lip, before saying, "Have you kissed?"

"Once."

"Same..." Oscar hesitates once more before asking, "So it's just the 'friend' thing? She's in love with both of us so she's been convincing herself she can stay both our friends forever."

"Well... right. And neither of us knew that was going on, and... Yeah, you know."

"How'd you find out?"

"It became too obvious. But Oscar, you've had your suspicions before the beginning."

Oscar sighs, staring down. "Right. So. She denied it because she loved us both."

"That's what I'm reckoning."

"What did she think she'd accomplish? Why did she think letting that happen would do any good? We both thought she was single. And technically, she was, but not really, because, we- you- I- you- you know..." Oscar trails off before dragging his hand across his face and leaving it over his eyes. "Oh, God."

"It's complicated," Lando nearly whispers.

"You... You can say that again..." Oscar breathes, his voice cracking as his other hand goes to his face, his pointer and middle finger pressing hard into his temple.

"Oscar?" Lando suddenly asks, his hand resting on the younger man's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Shit... I don't know..."

"Oscar, are you-"

"No- I mean, I am, but-"

Oscar is interrupted by Lando's arms suddenly wrapping around him in a hug and Lando murmuring, "Now both of you are crying?"

Oscar, despite himself, finds his face falling into Lando's shoulder as he begins, his voice just slightly hoarse, "I'm not crying, by the way. It's just... Lando, I've been in love with her for years; I swear, probably a decade by now. And I've known her literally my whole life. A part of me just always expected she'd always be there and I'd always just... that I'd always have enough time to wake up one morning and ask her out. I should have done it quite literally years ago. But I didn't and that's why we're here now, me feeling as if I have more of a right to her love, though really, I'm not worthy of her at all." Oscar lets out a shakily breath before adding, "I regret it so, so much, Lando."

Lando's arms around him tighten. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

"Osc, I just want her to be happy. But I know her dating me isn't the solution. Because she'd be devastated to date me but not you, and vise versa. She's head over heels for us both."

Oscar gulps. "Well, then what the hell do you suggest?" He leans away from Lando, wiping at his eyes with his thumb.

"Oh, Oscar," Lando sighs deeply. "I don't fucking know."

After that, the two stand in silent contemplation, worrying, pondering. Feeling. Emotion. Passion. Pain.

Before Lando finally says carefully, as if walking on eggshells, "...What if we both dated her...? Just kept doing what we've been doing, but the other one knows about it, so she doesn't have to feel guilty about it, but we both still... you know, get to date her?"

Oscar bites his lip. "Couldn't that get complicated?"

"Of course it could..." Lando trails off, before picking up more positively, "But sometimes the easier way isn't the right way, Oscar. We both know it'd make her happier to date us both. And we both know we'd both be happier if we could date her, yeah?"

Oscar's silent, considering, his eyes slightly glazed over, despite the battle that's going on inside his mind.

"Osc...? Osc, please, mate. I think it's the best shot we've got. It'd mean the world to me-"

"Yeah," Oscar suddenly interrupts with a nod, leaning off the hallway's wall. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. We can try that Lando," he says curtly, almost hollowly as he suddenly reaches for the door handle back to the dining room where you sit.

But right before his hand meets the knob, Lando snatches it away in his own, pulling Oscar to face him again.

Oscar can't help but feel awkward at how close his face is to the other Formula 1 driver's, and averts his eyes to the floor because of this.

But Lando responds simply, "Oscar, look at me. In my eyes."

Oscar sighs and looks up, meeting the strong eyes of Lando Norris. "What?" he barely whispers.

"Thank you so much, okay?" Lando murmurs, squeezing Oscar's hand.

To Oscar, everything seems wrong. Why is he standing with his teammate, his rival, this close, holding hands, with such intense eye contact? This should be just him and you. Lando shouldn't be a part of this.

How was he so stupid to let Lando ruin it all?

Oscar, just try to trust Lando? Maybe he's right? You can conform for now, but don't conform with malice. Only allow yourself to feel anger towards Lando after it all falls apart because of him.

"'Kay," Oscar mutters back.

"And, listen, Oscar. I hope you know you can trust me. I care about you, too. So much. I like you so much. So, please. Just be real with me. M'kay?"

"Of course... Can we go back and see Y/n now?" Oscar mumbles, feeling slightly uncomfortable at Lando's extreme sincerity.

Alright, maybe more than just slightly uncomfortable.

"Sure," Lando nods, and the two men come walking back in.

They sit down, and once they've finished explaining to you their idea, you ask, "So, you're saying we all date? The three of us, together?"

"Yeah," Lando responds with a smile at the same time as Oscar responding, "Well, sort of-"

Both your pairs of eyes turn to Oscar. He swallows and adds, "I mean, yeah. Of course. Just sounds weird to me, for three people to be dating, but it's just because I'm not used to it, you know? It's good. It's fine."

"Oscar, are you sure you're okay with that idea?" you venture.

But there's no way Oscar's going to say anything but a convincing, "Of course!" after the way he saw your eyes immediately light up in hope when Lando explained his idea of the three of you dating.

So you nod, taking that answer, but just ask one more tentative question, "So, you two... you're okay with... you.. you know..."

Before Oscar's brain can even completely comprehend what you're asking, Lando throws his arm around Oscar's shoulders and exclaims, "Of course, Y/n! Me and Osc get on great! Plus, he's not so bad himself-"

And in that moment, you witness Lando lean into kiss Oscar's cheek just as Oscar turns to look at Lando to speak and-

Lando ends up pecking Oscar on his lips.

Oscar's eyes practically pop out of his head, and Lando, to be honest, looks somewhat surprised himself. But you're sure Oscar's brains are about to begin running out his bright red ears as his whole face goes fire hydrant red. "Oh..." he just manages, his hand dragging over his lip.

Lando laughs slightly awkwardly, deciding to pretend he meant to do that. He gives the other driver a pat on his shoulder before saying, "You know, Y/n, you know how flustered Oscar can get with you? Imagine how bad it could be with me. You know, me being so hot and sexy and-"

You giggle nervously and interrupt, "Yeah, yeah, Lando. I get what you're saying."

As the visit at Lando's flat goes on that day, you and Lando loosen up a fair amount at the whole prospect of the three of you dating, but Oscar doesn't seem to budge. Oscar ends up leaving early, so before you go to bed that night, you stop to bring up your nervous concern to Lando: "Lando, I just don't know if Oscar wants to do this... I mean, he doesn't seem comfortable... I just... I think he really doesn't like the idea of dating another guy... I mean, maybe he's- you know, he's not- He doesn't have those feelings for men-"

"Oh, gosh, Y/n, don't worry about that," Lando reassures you and himself, quite honestly. "He'll come around. Oscar just needs time." He adds with a tease, "I mean, who can resist me?"

"You're suggesting you're so hot you can turn straight men gay?" you ask, completely unimpressed, crossing your arms.

"No, no! Trust me, Y/n, Oscar Piastri is not a straight man to even begin with."

"But-"

"Shh. You're probably just tired. Go on, you're eyes are shutting on themselves. Just lean on me."

"But Lando-"

He pecks your lips and murmurs close to your ear, "I've got you here, Y/n. Leave all your worries for tomorrow morning, and until then, I'll deal with the rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure," Lando comments, yawning himself as you sigh, resigned, and snuggle into his chest.

You're practically out cold within minutes, which leaves Lando time to sit alone with his thoughts, stroking your hair, worrying and thinking.

What if she's right? What if this just isn't going to work with Oscar?

I thought maybe he'd be more open.

Oh, God. I don't want to hurt either of them, one bit. I love Y/n. I know I do, and I have for so long now.

And Oscar? I'm so fond of him.

Ah, here I go again. Fuck me and my distracted, wandering, boyish heart.

Just like with Carlos. Just like with Daniel.

I don't know I feel it until in one moment, one instance, they smile in a certain way or say a certain joke or do a certain thing in a certain way and-

And suddenly I'm mad in love with yet another person.

Oh, Lando Norris. If only you could date everyone in the world you ever loved.

Then I'd be dating a lot more than just two people. And on the first day of dating two people, it's already a mess.

And it's all my fault.

I guess I'll just have to be the one who fixes it all, then, too.

"Oh, uh, good morning!" you chuckle as you see both Lando's and Oscar's heads turn almost in unison when you enter the room in McLaren HQ. "When did you two arrive in the U.K.?"

"Yesterd-"

"This morning!" Lando beams, throwing his arms around you.

"Oh, alright," you chuckle again. "It's so nice to see both of you..." You smile awkwardly as Lando pulls away and Oscar pats your shoulder when a sudden thought comes into your head.

Is this something the three of us should keep a secret?

Strangely (and stupidly) enough, you forgot to discuss that.

"Hey, uh, it's great you're both here right now. I've got to talk to you about, uhm- some of the media plans we have for you regarding Canada... Let's talk in the hall; don't want to disturb people working in here."

Lando raises his eyebrows as Oscar takes on a perplexed look. Once you're out in the hall together, you lean close and are about to speak when Lando interrupts with a smirk, "So, anyway. What about those... 'media plans' 'regarding Canada'...?"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you grin, realizing how much in just a little over a week away you missed Lando.

Oscar suddenly gently takes your hand by your side and says, "Oh, come on, Lando. Y/n, what did you want to say to us."

And you suddenly realized how much you missed Oscar, too, in only a little over a week.

"Well," you start, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "About this... relationship... Should we... you know, keep it a secret?"

"I... think so," Oscar says carefully, squeezing your hand. "Imagine the media's response. And the fans: the fans would be unbearable."

Lando crosses his arms and whines, "So you're saying I can't even show my affection for you two? Oscar, we're always on camera."

Did Lando just say you two? you can't help but suddenly wonder.

"Maybe you are, but there's ways of avoiding it," Oscar comments, not seeming to hear.

Hm. Maybe I heard wrong.

Because deep down inside, despite your secret desires, you know that Lando and Oscar just agreed to this for you, and have no specific liking for each other.

And that's the thing that's making you nervous that this whole thing has no chance of working out.

"Boys. I agree with Oscar," you sigh. "Lando, I work in marketing and public image type stuff. If anyone knows about this, it's me. And I agree with Osc. It'll do us no good to make this public. Let's just keep it on the down-low."

"Can we at least make a compromise?" Lando ventures.

"Go on," you sigh.

"We can at least still keep acting like we're mad in love with you," Lando laughs. "Because we've been doing that this whole time. Just no one has to know about the dating. I mean, it'll seem off if that suddenly stops."

You bite your lip but murmur, "Fair enough."

Lando grins and comments, "I gotta meeting now. See you two later," giving each your shoulders a pat.

Once Lando is gone, you turn to Oscar and murmur, letting go of his hand to touch his arm gently "Hey, Oscar. Are you alright?"

Your childhood best friend looks to you, a smile immediately forming on his face. But his eyes remain a bit hollow, a bit sad. "Of course I'm alright. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... You haven't seemed yourself today, I guess is all."

Of course she says that, Oscar thinks. She's the one that knows me best, anyway.

"I don't? Well, I'm fine... I'm sorry if I don't seem it," Oscar responds, attempting to brighten his smile. "Anyways, I've got to be off, too, actually," he says, checking his expensive watch. He leans in to peck your lips as his hand brushes your waist, before waving and offering, "Catch you later, lovely!"

The combination of his affectionate gestures and him calling you 'lovely' kind of makes your head spin.

You lay next to Lando, absently stroking his cheek and chin, feeling his facial hair, as he holds you close, tracing sweet words with his gentle fingers into your back.

You sigh, completely contented in the practically perfect moment. You're in Spain, and it's Saturday night- the Spanish Grand Prix is tomorrow. You ended up taking the last Grand Prix weekend in Canada off, for your spa weekend. Either way, before the race tomorrow, Lando invited you for some snuggles in his hotel room, and there's no way you could say no to that.

So here you are.

But suddenly Lando whispers, "Do you think I should invite Oscar?"

Your heavy eyes seem to immediately open and sharpen at this suggestion. You take a moment to ponder his question, before asking one of your own instead of answering his: "Lando, do you like Oscar?"

"Y/n, of course I like Osc-"

"No, no, Lando. I mean... you know..." you begin carefully, "Do you like Oscar the way you like me?"

There's silence in the room as the air conditioner becomes deafeningly loud suddenly. You can hear a long, slow sigh escape from Lando's lips, into the air, before he slowly says, "Oh, Y/n. I've liked lots of people the way I've liked you in the past."

You smile a little. "I know. You're Lando Norris, for God's sake. Of course you have. But today, right now, in this moment, do you like Oscar the same way you like me?"

Lando presses his forehead into your shoulder before uttering quieter, "If I did, it wouldn't matter."

"Why not?" you prod.

"Because, Y/n, there's no way he likes me in the same way he likes you."

You sigh slowly, feeling a slight pang at hearing those words. You wrap your arms around Lando and pull him closer to you. "What do you like about Oscar...?" you whisper.

"Oh, fuck me, Y/n. Everything. His stupid sense of humour, the way he laughs at all my jokes, the way he looks at me with those brown eyes, the little birth marks all over him, how polite and calm and cool-headed and cooperative and agreeable and smart and sensible and friendly and genuinely good he is. His voice, too! His mentality. Don't fucking tell anyone this, or I will kill you, but I even like the way he's a little bit taller than me. I love his stupid hair and his big smile. His hands... I love them. I love everything about him. I love him, and it's like it all just hit me. I don't know, Y/n. I just don't know."

You lean in and peck his lips before whispering, "Oh, Lando Norris. I love him, too, for all the same reasons. And I love you, too."

"The thing is, Y/n," he barely whispers, "that he'll never, ever love me back."

That feels like a stab to your heart.

You can't imagine how it feels to Lando.

You cuddle him so close, and you hold each other so close, that you can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Lando," you whisper. "I wish it could all just work out."

"Me, too, Y/n.

"Me too."

"Heyyy, Osc!" you grin, knocking on his open driver's room door. "You feeling good for the race?"

He smiles to see you in the door. "Yeah, I am. Come on in. Thanks for coming to see me, Y/n."

"Of course. It's a treat to see your handsome face."

He beams wider but rolls his eyes, "Oh, yeah?"

"Of course!" you giggle a bit.

"Well, do I get my pre-race hug, then?"

You grin and throw your arms around him, giving him a big kiss on his cheek, "You'll also be getting a post-race hug, too, when you win it!"

"Well, I guess that's always the goal, but we'll see about that." He leans back to look at you, gazing so warmly, so intensely for just a second, into your eyes, before looking away. He opens his mouth to say something, but then quickly closes it.

"What is it, Oscar?" you prod.

"I just wanted to say I love you."

You grin. "Don't ever hesitate to say that again. You don't need to, because I love you, too. And you and Lando better stay safe out there on the track today for me, okay?"

"Oh, alright, and the rest of the grid can all die; they don't matter," he teases.

"Oh, shut it, you!" you laugh, exiting his driver's room with a wave, "Go on and get ready for your race now!"

"Bye!" he laughs.

"Bye, bye, Osc!"

You lay on the bed in Lando's hotel room where you laid just last night, but this time, there's two people laying with you rather than just one.

Oscar is fast asleep on your right side, his right arm draped over your body and his head resting against your shoulder. Lando is on your left, still awake, gently rubbing your left hand absently as he runs his hand through his messy curls.

"Do you think Osc-"

"Ah-" Lando exclaims softly with a little flinch. "I thought you were sleeping already!" he laughs a bit.

You nod, waiting a few seconds before reasking your question, "Do you think Oscar is feeling better about the whole thing?"

"Oh, God, Y/n, I don't know. I think he's just kind of rolling with the punches," Lando sighs deeply. "He just wants you. He'll do anything to have you. Even sleep in the same bed as me."

"Oh... right..." you sigh, wrapping your arm around the sleeping Oscar, pulling him closer to you as you rest your head in the little nook between Lando's cheek and shoulder.

You shut your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, but your thoughts are raging, just like Lando's.

Why can't it all just be right? Why does it have to be so difficult? Is this the right thing? Should we give up on it?

Why can't the three of us just be right for each other?

This whole mess is all your fault, Y/n.

Your uncertain heart pounds in your ears, faster and faster, making you nearly go insane.

183 notes · View notes

javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

Text

Tired

Summary: You had spent weeks looking forward to your date night with Javi, but once the day actually arrives, it seems like everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. Lucky for you, Javi knows just how to make your day better.

Word Count: 5.8K

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, bathtub sex (hehehe) vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, big ole nasty breeding kink (listen, who am I to deny this man as many children as he wants), alcohol/being tipsy, food/eating, mom guilt, Chucho being the cutest Abuelito, Javi winning the award for dad/husband/dilf of the year 😩🥵

A/N: .... Well. Here we are again 🫠 When I tell you have made a rent free residency in my head... I do not kid you AT ALL. This has been my favorite story for our sweet little family so far. It also may or may not be how Harper is conceived OOPS 🤷🏼‍♀️ I love them, your honor.

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Every day for the past three weeks, you had been counting down to the 19th on your family calendar stuck to the side of your fridge, where the words “date night” had been scribbled in Javi’s messy handwriting. While you loved your girls, it had been a while since just you and Javi had a night to yourselves, so when Chuhco offered to babysit, the 4 of you couldn’t have been more thrilled- You and Javi got an evening alone, and Lucy and Elliot got to spend the night with their favorite Abuelito (Grandpa) at the ranch, getting lots of quality time with the animals, and one too many late night snacks.

You had been looking forward to this day for weeks, and that’s why when the 19th finally arrived, you couldn’t have been more disappointed that everything that could have gone wrong that day, felt like it had.

Lucy insisting she help with breakfast before preschool and dropping the rest of the egg carton on your kitchen floor.

Elliot refusing to nap while Lucy was at school, leaving you with no time to get any of the things done around the house you had planned.

The dog getting into the bathroom garbage and then throwing up 14 qtips on your carpet.

The girls having a meltdown at the grocery store because they couldn’t bring home one of the balloons from the end of the checkout aisle.

Going on an hour long manhunt for Flipper, Lucy’s favorite stuffed penguin she insisted had to go with her to Chucho’s, which ended up being hidden under a blanket in her bed.

Snapping at the girls out of frustration as they chased each other through the kitchen while you were trying to finish making them dinner.

Your pounding headache and tired body from feeling like you had been doing nothing but scrambling all day long just to stay afloat.

And now, with Lucy teaming up with Elliot in their no-nap strike, you hadn’t even had time to shower or get ready for your date by the time Javi had gotten home, leaving you with barely under an hour before you had to leave to make it to your dinner reservations on time.

You wanted so desperately to just forget about the shitshow that had been your Friday, but try as you might, you couldn’t help but find yourself in an overwhelmed and grouchy mood. A mood that you did not want to be in on your long awaited date night with Javi, your internal battle of emotions only dampening your spirit further.

As you heard the garage door open and Javi’s familiar footsteps make their way down the hallway, you fought with everything in you to try and put on the happiest face you could, as if you were going to be able to will yourself out of your funk to enjoy the night with your husband.

“Hi, Hermosa.” Javi beamed, setting down his bag to wrap you in a hug, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead before looking down at you in slight confusion, seeing that you were still in leggings and one of his oversized t-shirts, hair plopped up in a messy bun with very little time left before the 4 of you needed to head out to Chucho’s to make it to your dinner reservations. “Listen, baby, you know I think you look absolutely stunning in anything, but I do think the restaurant may be a touch nicer than my 20 year old t-shirt from college.”

“I know, sorry, it’s just been- It’s been a day. The girls are in the living room playing, do you mind getting their bags and watching them until we have to go so I can shower?” You tried your best to force a smile up at Javi, who was now cradling your jaw in his large palm, tracing his thumb along your cheek. His big brown eyes stared back at you, almost as if he knew there was something off that you didn’t want to get into right now, planting another kiss in your messy hair as you let out a deeper than intended exhale.

“Of course, Osita. Anything else I can do to help while you get ready?””

“No, just that. Thanks, Jav.”

“DADDY!” Two pairs of tiny feet pattered down the hallway, Lucy and Elliot bolting towards their dad with arms outstretched, Javi now squatting down to greet them with a smile stretched across his face, almost as wide as theirs.

“Ahhhh, there are my pollitas! C’mere mis amorcitas (my little loves).” Scooping the girls up in his arms, Javi picked up Elliot and Lucy, resting one on each hip, peppering little kisses over their faces, making them erupt in laughter. “Let’s head back to the living room so we can let Momma get ready before we leave for Abuelito’s house, sí?”

“Okay, Daddy! Will you play horsies with us?” Lucy squealed, wrapping her little arms around Javi’s neck, giving him a hug.

“Of course, Lucy Goosey.” Javi turned back to give you one last smile as he whisked the girls off to the living room, the sight of him carrying your daughters with such genuine joy and happiness being the first thing that had brought genuine relief today.

The relief was short lived though, now looking up at the clock to see you were down to 45 minutes to shower and make yourself look like a halfway decent human. You frantically sped through your routine, cranking up the temperature of the water in the shower to as hot as it could go as you tried to wash away the remnants of your day. Unfortunately, the water could have been a million degrees and it wouldn’t have been enough- You forgot you were out of shampoo, having to settle for Javi’s instead, and after trying to speed shave, you realized as you were drying yourself off, you had completely forgotten to shave the bottom half of your right leg.

You were thankful for the loud fan in your master bathroom, knowing it was enough to drown your tears as you stared yourself down in the mirror, feeling like an absolute mess. You didn’t feel excited, or pretty, or any of the things you wanted to feel before going out on your date. Truth be told, you felt like a shitty, worn down gremlin of a mom who just wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a blanket and hide away from the world for the rest of the night. Taking a long inhale, you shook your head, forcing yourself to wipe the wetness away from your cheeks to finish getting ready, and while with your hair and makeup done, and cute flowy dress wrapped around your body, you looked externally better than you had an hour ago, internally, you still didn’t feel much better.

You grabbed your coat and purse, making your way back into the living room to see Javi changed into navy dress pants and sport coat to match, with a white button down underneath, sitting on the couch with one daughter on each side, arms wrapped around them while they read “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” for what you were sure must have been the 17th time since you had gotten into the shower, considering it was the only book Lucy had wanted to read in the past week. Hearing you step through the doorway, Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip as he nudged the girls, pointing towards you. “Pollitas, look. Doesn’t Mommy look so pretty?”

“You’re so beautiful, Mommy!” Lucy grinned, bolting up off the couch, wrapping her arms around your leg, squeezing it tightly.

“So pweety, Mommy!” Elliot cooed, toddling over to join her sister, clutching around your other leg.

You could feel the tears beginning to well behind your eyes again, seeing your little girls attached at your hip and your sweet husband staring back at you, wondering how in the world had given you 3 people who loved you so much on the days you loved yourself so little. You let out a little gulp, trying to choke back your sobs, leaning down to kiss each of the girls on the head.

“Thank you Munchkins. Not as beautiful as my little chickens or as handsome as your Daddy, but that’s okay. You ready to go to Abuelito’s?” You mumbled through your words, your tone now making Javi’s brow scrunch in concern, giving you that look he gave you when he knew something was bothering you and you were being too stubborn to admit it. With enthusiastic squeals from the girls, they were practically running out the front door to the car, you following close behind them with their overnight bags, Javi following behind you just as closely, desperate to figure out what was on your mind.

The drive to Chucho’s was fairly quiet besides Lucy and Elliot’s sing-along to the Lion King soundtrack that had been a permanent fixture in your car for the past few car rides. As the girls half babbled the words in the backseat, Javi reached over, resting his hand on your thigh and rubbing soft circles against your skin, giving you that look that said, “I know something’s wrong and you’re not telling me”, you exchanging back with an incredibly unconvincing, “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

As you pulled up to the Peña ranch, Chucho was already outside, waiting on the porch in his rocking chair, his face beaming just as sweetly as Lucy and Elliot’s as they ran out of the car to greet their grandpa.

“Hola, nietas! (Hi, granddaughters!)” Chucho cooed, letting out a little grunt as Lucy and Elliot barreled into him, squeezing him in their grasp. “How are my favorite little ladies?”

“Hi Abuelito!”

The girls giggled as Chucho kissed them both on the cheek, smiling up at you and Javi as you carried the girls bags to the front door. “Oh díos mio, girls. Look at how nice your mamá and papá look tonight!”

“Thanks Pops.” Javi laughed, setting one of the bags down on the porch. “You still okay if we come pick these two monsters up tomorrow morning?”

“Monstruos? My sweet nietas? Never.” Chucho laughed, giving the girls a little shake as the two of them giggled at their grandpa. “Come by whenever you’d like. You know I am more than happy to have these two as long as you’ll let me.”

“Thanks, Chucho.” You nodded, setting another bag down next to the one Javi had placed on the porch. “Do you need us to do any-”

“Mija, I have everything I need. Don’t worry about a thing. Now go. The two of you deserve a nice night out. Me and the girls will be just fine, won’t we?” Chucho grinned down at Lucy and Elliot, bouncing in excitement.

“Thanks, Dad. Be good for your Abuelito, sí? I told him if you’re naughty, you’re gonna have to go sleep out with the cows.” Javi teased, kneeling down to the girls level, giving them a little tickle and kiss before wrapping them in his arms. “Te amo, Pollitas. (I love you, little chickens).”

“Bye girls, we’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We love you.” You joined Javi, crouching down to give your girls one last hug and kiss before they were already halfway through the front door, bursting into Chucho’s house with excitement.

You thanked Chucho again, making your way back to the car, pulling down the dusty, dirt driveway before making your way back on the road. “God, I’m convinced he loves those girls more than anything else on the face of this earth. I’m sure that means he won’t mind keeping them just a little longer tomorrow, huh, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, once again placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze before realizing you had been staring out the passenger side window from the moment you had gotten in the car, trying desperately to snap yourself out of the terrible funk of your day you just couldn’t seem to shake.

You felt the wetness beginning to pool under your eyelids, your breaths becoming shaky and weary, trying to pull yourself together from the tired, guilty and grumpy mess that you were, but it was no use. “Hermosa? You okay?” Javi asked again, confused by your silence, gripping your leg a little tighter, the sweet and gentle tone of his voice being the final straw that broke the camel’s back. You let your tears fall freely, your sobs becoming louder and heavier as you shook your head back and forth, Javi immediately pulling over the truck to the side of the dirt road, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you into a hug as you cried against his chest. “Baby. Baby what’s wrong? Hey, shhhh, it’s okay, Osita. I’m here, it’s okay.”

Javi held you, letting you take your time to cry before trying to prod about the reason behind it, feeling you take long, exasperated deep breaths against him before pulling away, wiping away the tears that had been flowing down your face. “It’s been such a shitty day, Jav. I felt like such a bad mom, and I’m so tired and I’ve been looking forward to this date with you for so long and I’m just fucking exhausted. I’m so sorry. Our date hasn’t even started yet and I’m already ruining it.” It wasn’t long before you were sobbing again, leaning back into the broadness of Javi’s body as he immediately wrapped his arms around you, gently cradling the back of your head as you cried, feeling his own heart break from seeing how hard you were on yourself.

“Hermosa…” He cooed, pressing you against his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair. “Baby… Listen to me, okay? You are not a bad mom. You are the most wonderful mother in the world to our girls. I have no fucking clue how you do what you do all day long, but there is no one else in the world I would rather have to help raise them with. You are so sweet and patient with them, God, they’re little mini versions of you and I couldn’t be happier. You are an amazing mom, you understand?”

“It didn’t feel like it today. God, they were so tough today and it was exhausting, I yelled at them today for running in the kitchen and I felt so bad, I just- fuck- being a mom is so hard, Jav. I love it, I do, I love those girls so much, but today I felt like I was running for worst parent of the year award. And now I can’t even pull it together enough for our date that we’ve both been looking forward to. I’m so sorry, Javi.”

“Osita, you are not ruining anything. Baby, if I get to spend time with you, I’m happy. I don’t care where we go or what we do, if I’m with you, it doesn’t matter. So, that being said,” he paused, tilting your head up towards him, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, “we’re gonna go home, pick up pizza, open a bottle of wine, sit and soak in the tub for as long as you want to, and then I’m gonna make sweet, sweet love to my beautiful, amazing wife until she knows just how much I love and appreciate everything she does for our family. Okay?” You let out a little huff of laughter, a small smile finally appearing in the corners of your lips as you helped to wipe your tears away.

“Are you sure? You planned dinner reservations and I-”

“I’ve never been so sure. I love you, Osita. You are everything to me, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make sure you remember it.”

“God, now you’re gonna make me cry even more, you dummy.” You laughed, Javi joining in as you gave him a playful nudge. “I love you too, Jav. You’re way too good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” As Javi’s sweet brown eyes locked with yours, the weight in your chest began to ease, wondering how in the world you had gotten so goddamn lucky. Buckling himself back in, and shifting the car into drive, Javi turned around, changing directions back to home, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Can we get breadsticks with the pizza, too?”

“Whatever you want, baby, it’s yours.”

With an extra large pizza and breadsticks in your lap, the drive back to your house was spent in a much lighter mood than your drive to drop off the girls at their grandpa’s. You switched out the Lion King disk in your CD player for Fleetwood Mac, the two of you happily singing along to “I Don’t Wanna Know” as you pulled back into the driveway of your house.

You were greeted by your dog, Bear, wagging his tail in delight at your presence from the comfort of the couch, rolling over to show you his belly, Javi gladly obliging in giving him some scratches before Bear gladly put himself back to sleep, curled up against a throw pillow. “Old man could really give two shits about us being home, huh?” Javi laughed, giving the dog one last pat before making his way back over to you in the kitchen, already shoving a cheesy piece of pizza into your mouth.

“I think he’s just as relieved from a night off from the gremlins as we are.” You laughed, catching a stringy piece of cheese that had fallen from your lips, making you and Javi both chuckle. “Is it bad if we eat pizza and drink wine in the tub?” You raised an eyebrow at Javi, gesturing towards your food, anxious to take a relaxing soak, your tub used more frequently by Lucy and Elliot than either of the two of you these days.

“Of course not, Osita. Why don’t you get stuff ready upstairs and I’ll bring wine and pizza up? What wine do you want?”

“I mean… It is date night. Should we break out the nice wine the Murphy’s got us the last time they came over? We did say we were saving it for a special occasion.” You smirked, holding up your half eaten piece of pizza to toast to your failed date night out, you and Javi both shaking your heads in laughter. Javi reached up in the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out the bottle and examining it before getting out a bottle opener and popping off the top.

“God, the amount of shit Steve would give me to know that this got opened to be drank in our fucking bathtub…”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You winked, giving Javi a kiss on the cheek before taking the last bite of your pizza. “Meet you upstairs?”

“Can’t wait.”

After making your way up the stairs and into your master bathroom, you cranked on the water in the tub, making it hot enough for your liking, but not hot enough Javi would complain about it being the surface of the sun. You thought that you had another set of bubbles to put in the bath besides the ones that you used for the girls, but after digging around in the bathroom cabinet, you had to settle for the bright pink, birthday cake scented bottle Lucy had insisted on getting during your last shopping trip. After the tub was full and bubbles were mixed and foaming, you stripped your clothes, dropping them on the tile floor in a heap next to the bathtub before tying up your hair and stepping into the water, sinking down to your neck and letting out a deep sigh as you closed your eyes in relief. You could feel the tension beginning to ease from your body, taking a moment to sit in the sweet silence before you heard Javi’s footsteps trailing up the stairs, gently swinging open the bathroom door, pizza and wine in his hands and a soft smile on his face.

“Give me one more second, okay?” Setting down his things on the counter, Javi exited back out of the bathroom, quickly returning with a handful of candles and lighter, placing them around the room and lighting them all before turning off the overhead lights, the light of orange and yellow flames flickering against the walls in a soft, warm glow.

“Wow, didn’t know I was going to the spa tonight. Very romantic of you, Jav.” You grinned, crossing your arms over the edge of the tub, resting your chin overtop of them as you stared at Javi, now undressing himself of his own clothes, throwing them into the pile with yours. “And the spa has hot naked men bringing me pizza and wine? God, I should come here more often.” You giggled, looking up at him in admiration as he passed you over your plate and glass before grabbing his own and stepping in to join you, sliding down the porcelain on the opposite side of the tub. “Thank you for this, Javi. I know it’s not what we had planned, but I really needed this.”

“Of course, mi amor (my love).” Javi smiled at you, bringing his slice of pizza halfway up to his mouth before taking an over exaggerated sniff of the bubbles below him. “Why does the bath smell like a birthday cake?”

“I thought I had other bubbles but the only ones I could find were Lucy and Ellie’s so we have birthday cake flavored bubbles.” The two of you laughed, shaking your heads as you bit down into your pizza, knowing that there was no one else in the world you could be happier to spend a night in a tub full of birthday cake bubbles with.

After you had finished your dinner and were a few more glasses of wine in, you had shifted in the tub so that you were settled in between Javi’s legs, resting with your back against his chest and leaning your head back on your shoulder with his hands wrapped around your body, the two of you chatting and laughing away, not knowing or caring how much time had gone by. You had covered everything from Javi’s day at work, to vacation plans, now to Lucy’s interest in soccer, which had been a hot topic of conversation.

“I know, I was talking to some of the other moms at the preschool about it, and they said they’d have their girls do soccer too, they just don’t have anyone to coach. They’re trying to find one of the dads to do it so they can start in the spring.”

“Are you trying to get me to coach a soccer team?” Javi laughed, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your arms. “Baby, I know absolutely nothing about teaching 4 year olds how to play soccer, you would be better at it than I would.”

“Well exactly, they’re 4 Jav, it can’t be rocket science. I think you would be good at it. You know Lucy would whip everyone into shape to make sure they listened to you.”

“Honestly, she would probably be a better coach than I would.”

“She honestly would. I’m being serious though, baby! You’re so sweet and patient with the girls. Plus, it’d be good eye candy to watch from the sidelines.” You giggled, tilting your head up towards Javi, biting down on your lip.

“Good eye candy, huh?” Javi smirked back down at you, sliding his hand down your arm to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Mmmmhhmmm. I could get to show off my hot, handsome husband and what a great dad he is for his girls. Make all the other moms jealous.” You cooed, shifting your body to face towards him, straddling over his lap, running your hands through the dark curls at the nape of his neck. You could feel Javi’s hands beginning to shift with you, now wrapping his arms around the small of your back, grabbing a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. You tilted your head, letting your lips land tenderly on his before his tongue was swiping in the opening of mouth, the tenderness transforming into a passionate electricity. You let your hands roam down his neck towards his chest, sliding down under the water over his stomach, palming at his dick, already half hard in your hands. “Such a good Daddy, that maybe…” You moaned in between kisses, “Maybe it’s time for you to give me another baby.”

Javi paused, his eyes going wide at your comment, his jaw almost hanging open as he let out a little gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Hermosa… Baby, are you serious?” He couldn't help but let a boyish grin escape from his lips, his face lighting up brighter than a little kid on Christmas.

You and Javi had agreed you had both wanted a third, but decided to hold off until Elliot was past the 18 month mark before trying again. Javi had been dying for another kid, and had been using as much self restraint as he could to keep from asking you every day if the two of you could start trying for your third child after Elliot had turned a year and a half. It felt ironic that the circumstances you found yourself in to ask him if he wanted to have another baby were because of how exhausted you were from the two you already had, but God, after thinking about him coaching that soccer team, there was something about the thought of your sweet, loving husband with another baby attached to his hip that made any ounce of willpower you had left absolutely dissipate. If Javi wasn’t hard enough from your touch, the thought alone of getting you pregnant again was more than plenty.

“You wanna put another baby in me, Jav?” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his cock, gently stroking it as he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder, quietly laughing to himself, almost as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Fuck me…” Javi hissed, tugging you closer towards him, the sudden movement making water splash over the sides of the tub. One of the hands grabbing your ass snaked around to your front, grazing over your hip and inner thigh before making its way between your legs and circling against your clit. “Fuck, I want to so badly. It’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks, how much I wanna grow our family, give the girls another sibling, see you all beautiful and pregnant carrying our perfect baby again. Will you let me, Osita? Let me fuck another baby into you, Momma?” The pressure of his fingers on your sensitive bundle of nerves had you moaning, letting out a soft whimper as his two fingers pressed deep into your heat, slowly rocking his fingers along the soft spongy spot inside you that he knew made you crumble.

“Oh my God, yes. Fuck- fuck, I need you to, Javi, please.” You whined, Javi’s mouth now working its way down to your breasts, sucking and flicking at your pebbled nipples as his fingers fucked into you deeper and harder, burying your head in the crook of his neck, the sensation of his tongue and hands making your pussy begin to flutter. The heel of his palm dug deeper into your clit, pressure building in your belly as your hips rocked against his hand, each roll making more and more water overflow onto the floor as you braced yourself, digging your fingers into the skin of Javi’s broad back as that sweet and familiar tingle built at the base of your spine.

“That’s it, sweet girl, I know you’re close. Give me one on my fingers and then I swear, I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, I’ll get you pregnant tonight.” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, feeling your cunt begin to clench around his fingers, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky as you moaned. Suddenly, you felt the coil in your belly snap, making you cry out as your orgasm ripped through your body, flooding every inch of you with euphoria and pleasure as you reached your peak.

Javi placed languid kisses and nips down your neck and collarbone as you slumped into him, coming down from your high with labored breaths, finally composing yourself enough to sit up to see the satisfied grin spread across his cheeks, a lustful and mischievous look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he stared at your blissed out face. “How much you wanna bet?” You smirked, biting down on your lip before leaning in to tug at Javi’s earlobe with your teeth as you scooted closer over his lap, shifting your body up in the water of the tub to hover over his cock, carefully guiding it to line up with your entrance.

“Bet what, Osita?”

“Bet that you get me pregnant tonight?” You mewled, slowly sinking yourself down onto Javi’s length, savoring the sweet sting and stretch of him inside you until you had bottomed out, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. “That 9 months from now, we’ll have one more baby that gets to fill another room in our house?” Gently, you began swirling your hips, letting Javi’s cock stay buried deep inside you, splitting you open in the best way possible, almost making you speechless.

“Jesus Christ, Hermosa…” Javi sighed, digging his fingertips into your sides, guiding your bottom half as it rolled in his lap. “I’d bet anything, because I’m gonna fuck myself so deep inside you, it’ll take. You want another baby? I’ll give you another baby, Osita. I’ll give you anything you want. My beautiful wife, amazing mom to our girls, fuck- you deserve everything.”

Moans escaped from both your parted lips as you began to raise yourself up and down along Javi’s length, now punching along the spot inside you that had your mind going numb. His fingers circled against your already sensitive clit as he thrust up into you, the feeling of him all consuming, even as the lukewarm water of the bath swirled between you. You draped your arms around his neck as his free one wrapped around the small of your back, your bodies melting together as one as you pushed and pulled with each stroke.

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench again, heat blooming in your belly with each swirl of your hips, tugging at the damp curls of Javi’s hair at the nape of his neck as his thrusts became more frantic and sloppy, telling he was just as close to reaching his own high as you were. “Fuck, Javi, fuck- I’m so close baby, oh shit- don’t stop.” You whined into the crook of his neck, pulling yourself even tighter against his body.

“I’m not gonna stop, Osita. Not gonna stop until fuck you full of me and fuck another baby into you. That what you want, Hermosa?” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, pounding deeper and faster into you with each word, the water from the tub sloshing and spilling onto the tile floor below you.

“Yes, fuck- oh my god, yes, fuck Javi, oh shit- fuck baby, I’m gonna-ahhhhhhhh.” Once again, your orgasm radiated through every inch of your body, making your legs shake and mind go blank as you cried out Javi’s name, practically melting into him as he continued to thrust into you with a desperate ferocity, close to his own end. Javi’s arms wrapped around your back, caging you against his chest, fingertips gripping in the soft skin of your shoulder blades as he fucked into you, babbling incoherently.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Fuck, I’m close too, Hermosa. Oh fuck- God, I can’t wait to see you pregnant again. So fucking beautiful carrying our baby. You’re such a- fuck- good mom to our girls, my fucking perfect wife, I’m so luck-ahhhhhhh.” With one final thrust inside you, you could feel Javi painting your walls in his spend, milking himself of every last drop, his breath ragged and heavy as he leaned into you, your chests rising and falling in sync as you came to.

“Well…” You laughed to yourself, shaking your head against Javi’s shoulder where it had been resting, now lifting up to grin at his blissed out face, “Safe to say we should probably clean this tub out before we let the girls use it again.”

Javi joined in your laugher, the two of you giggling to yourselves over your antics, peeking over the side of the tub to see the giant puddles pooling on your bathroom floor. “I mean, the water had soap in it, so at least the floor is clean.” Javi smirked, cupping his hand around your jaw, pressing his smiling lips to yours.

“Clean, really? Not like we need any extra towels or anything to wipe up all the water we spilled all over the floor because now it’s just magically clean, huh Jav?” You teased, giving him a playful nudge, Javi rolling your eyes at your heavy dose of sarcasm. “We probably should get out and wipe all of this up. Any longer in here and I think our future kid is gonna come out just as pruney as we are.”

“Dork. I’ll clean everything up. Why don’t you go put on pajamas and I’ll meet you in bed, okay?”

“Javi, I was just teasing. I am half the reason for this mess, I can help clean it up and-”

Javi silenced the rest of your sentence with his lips, capturing the rest of your words in his mouth. “I know you can, Osita. I want to. Let me clean up. Can’t have you working too hard, Momma. Gotta make sure you stay nice and rested so you can grow baby number 3.”

“You are ridiculous, you know that? You just gonna magically will me to be pregnant after tonight?” You sighed, laughing as the two of you made your way out of the tub, wrapping yourselves up in the fluffy towels you had left out on the bathroom counter, Javi draping his towel around the both of you as he leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair.

“I told you, I’d bet you anything. 5 bucks.”

“5 bucks what, smartass?”

“5 bucks says you don’t get your period and we find out you're pregnant by the end of the month.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, if you are anything, Javier Jesús Peña…” You smirked, pressing up on your tiptoes to peck another kiss on his lips, “it’s confident. I hope you’re right, but I’ll take your bet.”

If Javi was also anything, it wasn’t wrong. Because 4 weeks later, after a missed period and 3 sets of double pink lines on your pregnancy tests, baby Peña number 3 was on their way. So when you handed Javi 5 dollars and a little white box with one of your tests, you couldn’t help but laugh to know that even though your future daughter was the product of a date night gone wrong, it couldn't have felt more right knowing you were lucky enough to grow your family by one more with the man you loved more than anything else in the world.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

702 notes · View notes

miseria-fortes-viros · 1 year ago

Text

what if your best friend was annoying. what if he took every opportunity he had to make fun of you. what if he kept trying to pick off your scabs even when you pushed him away. what if you caught him looking at your bruises for too long. what if he hated your girlfriend. what if your best friend took you to a magical place and spoke to the forest. what if you recognized his messy handwriting scratched into a boulder. what if he drove you home. and again. and again.

what if he lingered in the driveway too long and watched your father’s fist land. what if in the time it took you to fall and smash your head on the railing he was there. what if it took three cops to pull him off of your father. what if he snarled like a dog and the look in his eyes was wild but he still managed to check if you were okay while they shoved him in the back of the cop car. what if you finally told them the truth about your father to keep your best friend out of jail.

what if your best friend could take things out of his head and make them real. what if he almost never slept because he was afraid of what he would wake up with. what if your best friend went to mass every sunday to apologize to god and he told you the nuns had an apartment they would rent to you for cheap. what if it was cold and cramped and bare but for the first time you slept somewhere without fear. what if your best friend knocked on your door most nights and slept on your floor. what if you thought it was because he knew you kept a gun somewhere and you didn’t want to think about what else it might mean.

what if your best friend started hanging out with someone awful. what if he stayed out all night racing and drinking and doing god knows what with this guy. what if you wanted him dead. what if you had a hand in his death. what if you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad about it because your best friend was safe sleeping on your floor again. what if your best friend asked you for help. what if he took you back to the church and you could just imagine him in there with his family before it broke. what if he closed his eyes and turned ideas tangible in one of the pews and you thought maybe there were two gods in this church. what if he looked at you like he thought there were three. what if the nightmares got him. what if your best friend bled out on the floor while you held him and panicked. what if you watched him take his last breath. what if you looked up and he was watching you cradle his head from where he sat on the altar. what if the scope of his power hit you just then. what if he told you to leave and you did. what if you let him dispose of his own corpse alone. what if you sat on your bed unable to stop thinking about the blood dripping from his mouth.

what if once you started noticing the curve of his lips and the cut of his cheekbones you couldn’t stop. what if you’d never truly felt safe in your life except when he was with you. what if your best friend was tall and strong and sharp and cruel and he made you smile like nobody else could. what if you were quiet and calculating but he made you loud and reckless. what if he radiated danger but you trusted no one else to walk behind you. what if everyone else kept forgetting which ear your father deafened you in but your best friend always remembered.

what if you went up to his childhood bedroom at the house where his father died and looked at all of his old things. what if you sat on his bed and thought about all the times he must have woken up staring death in the face. what if you looked up and he was standing in the doorway. what if he came over and sat beside you. what if there were bad memories here but also good ones. what if when he finally kissed you he did it slowly and carefully like he knew he was devilishly handsome at best and terrifying at worst. what if his big strong hands held you like he thought you might fall apart and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched you so softly. what if he left after that because he knew you would have a lot to think about. what if you went back to him that night and kissed him like you were starving for it. what if the second room you slept in without fear was also the second room your best friend had given you.

what if something demonic invaded your body. what if it used your eyes to spy and your hands to manipulate. what if the most important thing in the world was your autonomy. what if the demon knew it and made you sit helplessly as it stole it from you. what if it let you see just enough. what if your hands closed around your best friend’s throat and there was nothing you could do to stop them. what if you begged him to fight back. what if he just kept looking at you even as his lips turned blue. what if his hands still held you with love even while he was dying in yours.

what if the demon released you. what if you couldn’t stand by yourself. what if your best friend kept you up. what if you fell back against his chest and his arms kept you from falling and he whispered in your good ear something meant only for you and you gave in and began to cry. what if the bruises circled his neck for weeks. what if you could see the shape of your thumbs on his throat and couldn’t bear to look at it. what if you wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted you near him again. what if he kissed your fingers instead.

what if you thought you never wanted love or a home or a family. what if your best friend gave you all three. what if you woke up with his arms around you in the house where his father died and he made you breakfast and you laughed over coffee and his little girl gave you sticks and leaves and his bird gave you bottle caps. what if you wanted to go to college but you didn’t want to leave and he wanted you to go but he wanted you to stay. what if nobody had ever wanted you to stay before. what if you never thought you’d have anything worth coming home to. what if you never thought you’d call anywhere home. what if your best friend gave you an apartment. what if he gave you his home. what if he gave you his heart.

#and then what if u broke up with him while he was in a coma #oops!! still bitter about td3 pynch #the raven cycle #trc #pynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch #barbi.trc

683 notes · View notes

awkward-walking-potato · 3 months ago

Note

saw you wanted some wade requests so.... how about wade x a scatterbrained (probably has adhd) reader who always calls themselves stupid whenever they forget what they are doing \ walk into a room and forget what they were supposed to do?

Forget-Me-Nots

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring blankly at the open refrigerator. The cool air wafted over your face as you tried to remember why you had walked in here in the first place. You were sure it was important—maybe something for dinner? Or a snack? You couldn’t recall, and the longer you stood there, the more frustrated you became.

With a sigh, you closed the fridge door and leaned against the counter, muttering to yourself. “Ugh, I’m so stupid. Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Did someone say ‘stupid’? I’m pretty sure that’s a code word for needing more Deadpool in your life,” came a voice from the doorway. Wade strolled into the kitchen, a lopsided grin on his face as he made his way over to you. “What’s going on, babe?”

You glanced up at him, feeling a bit sheepish. “I came in here for something, but I completely forgot what it was. I feel so dumb. This happens all the time.”

Wade’s grin softened into something more tender as he reached out to ruffle your hair playfully. “First of all, you’re not dumb. Not even close. You’re just running on a different frequency than most people—one that happens to be way more interesting, might I add.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, even though the frustration still lingered. “I don’t know, Wade. It just feels like my brain’s always all over the place. Like I can’t focus on one thing for too long, and I keep forgetting stuff.”

Wade’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Well, that’s where I come in, babe. Ta-da!”

You looked down to see a small, brightly colored sticky note in your hand. On it, in Wade’s messy handwriting, were the words: You came in here for the snacks, didn’t you?

You blinked in surprise, and then a laugh bubbled up from your chest. “Wait, how did you—?”

“Because I know you, that’s how,” Wade said, looking way too pleased with himself. “And also because I’m a genius. But mostly the first thing. I figured you might get sidetracked, so I wrote you a little reminder earlier. Just in case.”

Your heart melted at the thoughtfulness behind the gesture, and you looked up at him with a mixture of affection and gratitude. “Wade, that’s so sweet of you. And, yeah, I was definitely thinking about snacks.”

Wade’s grin widened. “Called it! Now, let’s raid the pantry and find something good. I think we’ve got some chocolate stashed away somewhere.”

As the two of you searched through the cabinets, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of appreciation for Wade’s efforts. He didn’t just see your scatterbrained moments as a quirk to be tolerated—he saw them as an opportunity to show how much he cared about you. It was one of the many reasons you loved him so much.

Later that evening, as you were getting ready for bed, you found another sticky note taped to your bathroom mirror. This one read: Brush your teeth, beautiful. And don’t forget to floss—I know you hate it, but your smile’s worth it.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you did exactly what the note suggested. Wade had a knack for knowing exactly what you needed, even before you realized it yourself.

Climbing into bed, you found yet another note tucked under your pillow: You’re not stupid. You’re amazing, and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you. Now, get some sleep—dream of me, will ya?

You clutched the note to your chest, feeling your eyes well up with tears, though they were the happy kind. Wade always knew how to lift your spirits, to remind you of your worth, even when you were feeling down on yourself.

When Wade finally joined you in bed, you turned to him and snuggled close, wrapping your arms around him as you whispered, “Thank you, Wade. For everything.”

He kissed the top of your head, his arms encircling you protectively. “Anything for you, babe. You’re my whole world, scattered brain and all. And don’t worry—I’ve got plenty more notes where those came from.”

You smiled against his chest, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you drifted off to sleep. Wade might have been unpredictable and wild, but when it came to you, he was steady, thoughtful, and endlessly loving.

The next morning, you woke up to find a sticky note on your nightstand: Good morning, sunshine! Remember to take your meds and have breakfast. I made pancakes—don’t let them get cold!

You grinned, feeling a surge of affection for your wonderfully chaotic boyfriend. With Wade by your side, you knew you could face anything—even the most scatterbrained of days.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #deadpool oneshot #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson

124 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 1 year ago

Text

a place where i belong

also on ao3 // 13k words cw: verbal abuse; gaslighting; family angst; smut/nsfw

He’s in the kitchen when he hears it. Standing by the sink and downing a painkiller, shoes on, jacket on, car keys in hand. He pauses when he hears it, hypervigilant as always, freezing without swallowing the gulp of water, the pill floating in his mouth for a moment as he realizes.

A car pulls into the driveway.

He swallows, closing his eyes and sighing heavily, and he sets the glass in the sink.

He’d forgotten they were coming back today. It’s been on the calendar, marked with a vague, innocuous red dot that he’d begun to look past, to look through, to ignore without meaning to. He’s been too focused on everything else, on his own messy handwriting reading Lucas basketball - 3pm and kids theater - noon and Max physical therapy - 1pm. His weekly hours are jotted down on a piece of paper that’s stuck to the wall next to the calendar, updated every Saturday evening. Robin’s handwriting is just as bad as his, but he’s gotten better at reading it, the same way she’s gotten better at reading his.

Steve rests his back against the counter by the sink, taking a breath, steeling himself. He crosses his arms, clutching his keys in his hand so tightly the teeth bite into his palm. He looks at the ground. Follows the lines between the tiles with his eyes like he’s mapping out a maze. Or an escape.

He hears the front door open. Hears some shuffling, some muttering, the clunking of suitcases coming through the entryway.

And then he hears, “Steven, your car is filthy, when was the last time you had it washed?”

His eyes get stuck on a tile, at the corner of it. The tiles used to be a pristine, shining, sparkling white. When Steve was a little boy, they were always sparkling. Glistening. Always freshly mopped, scrubbed, waxed. They don’t look like that anymore. They’re dull now, still white but just barely grey. The one Steve is looking at has a crack in it. It’s a tiny crack, thin as a hair, branching off from the corner, but he sees it from where he’s standing.

“A few weeks ago,” he says, even though he knows it’s been months. “I don’t know.”

The house has aged with him, he thinks. His parents stopped making sure the floors were being taken care of when they started leaving. They stopped making sure the chimney was cleaned, the pool was cleaned, the walls were sturdy. Steve gave up on keeping everything in order when he started high school. When he started to question whether or not they were coming back at all instead of what day they’d show up.

Steve stares at the tile. Traces the crack in it.

“Steven, I paid good money for that car, I expect you to take care of it.”

He nods at the floor.

Quiet.

Good.

He hates when they come home. It’s like the house gets a little colder, like the echoes of the kids’ laughter get sucked out the windows. Like the last burning embers in the fireplace have turned to ash.

It doesn’t happen often, them coming home. But when it does…

“Goodness, this floor is filthy. We need to get these tiles replaced.”

He blends into the walls. Turns to mist that they look right through. Fades back into the little boy he used to be, too small to look into his father’s eyes or to reach the liquor cabinet, quiet and well-behaved and good.

They keep talking. He doesn’t hear his name. He keeps looking at the floor. He decides he likes the crack in that tile. He kind of wishes they were all like that. It took almost twenty years for that crack to appear, that tiny, thin crack. He wonders how many tiles there are in the whole room, wants to multiply that number by twenty. See if he’ll still be alive when they’re all like this one, damaged so subtly he has to look for it. He imagines it, the tiles grey and dusty with age, cracks spreading across them like a spiderweb across the floor. In his head, it’s beautiful.

And then he remembers that they want to replace them now. Because they’re not as shiny as they used to be.

Steve doesn’t feel very shiny. He doesn’t think he’s ever been shiny.

They’re still talking. Steve exhales.

His eyes find a scuff on his shoe. He blinks at it, trying to remember where it came from, and for an awful, awful second he thinks it’s from gym class, from basketball practice, from fucking around in alleyways, before he remembers.

He thinks it’s from the Upside Down. From running, hiding, fighting.

The keys bite into his palm, and he loosens his grip, inhaling sharply as his brain registers the pain. He looks at his hand, holding his fingers open to make sure he isn’t bleeding. He isn’t. His skin is red, indents from the teeth of the keys sharp in his skin, in the creases of his palms.

Fuck.

He looks at the clock across the room, and for a moment he wants to just leave silently, to walk right past them to the front door. But he doesn’t.

“Uh,” he says, quietly enough that he isn’t really interrupting them. They both look at him, turning their heads a little but still glancing at him out of the sides of their eyes, and he finally looks at them. Sees them. They look older than he thought they did, lines around their eyes and mouths and on their foreheads. His father’s hair is mostly grey now, his mother's still dark red. It looks fake, just like the pearls around her neck. “I need to… go.”

“Go where?”

“To— To pick up some kids.” He stutters. He hates stuttering. “And take them home, I— I told their parents I’d get them home by six.”

Walter sneers.

“Why are you driving children around?” he asks. But he isn’t really asking anything at all. He’s just… commenting. Like he always it. Your grades are shit. Your car is dirty. Why are you driving children around?

“I’m their babysitter,” Steve says. He used to hate that word. It felt so demeaning. He remembers his babysitters from when he was little, teenagers that only took the job for the money instead of for Steve, teenagers that would spend hours in the living room smoking or nursing beers and watching movies while Steve played by himself upstairs or in the corner.

But he doesn’t mind it now. Being the babysitter. Driving the kids around. Making sure they’re okay, they’re safe and healthy and happy. Even though he tells them to shut up, he likes hearing their laughter and relentless bickering from the backseat. Even though he calls them little shits, he thinks he loves them.

“Babysitter,” Walter repeats dryly. He’s making that face again. He’s always making that face at Steve. Like he smells, like he’s a stain on the carpet. Like he’s a dirty floor tile. Walter sighs, shaking his head like he’s disappointed. “We’re going to need to discuss your career plans, Steven, you can’t go on with your life babysitting.”

Steve stares at him blankly. He won’t meet Steve’s eye.

He’s wearing a suit. He’s always wearing a suit. Steve can’t remember the last time he saw him in anything else.

And now, come to think of it, Steve can’t remember the last time he saw him.

It’s been months that they’ve been away. Months since they’ve stepped through the front door into the boring entryway, through the boring hallway, into the boring kitchen. With no greeting, no Hi, Steve, how’ve you been? No We missed you, how are your friends? What happened with the earthquakes and the serial killer? Are you okay?

Nothing.

A comment about the dirt on Steve’s car, and the dull floor tiles, and Steve’s future career. He wonders if they even know what color his eyes are.

“Right,” he says finally, his hand clenching around the keys again. “Well, I’d love to have that conversation with you, but I really need to go, so…”

“We just got home,” Catherine says sharply, looking at him from where she’s sitting at the table, unbuckling her high heels. “You haven’t seen us in months, Steven, and this is how you greet us?”

Steve looks at her. At her hair. It’s stiff with hairspray, piled up on top of her head in fake curls. Her makeup is creasing in her wrinkles, and her lipstick is faded around the center of her lips. Steve blinks.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here right now,” he says carefully. “And I already told the kids’ parents I’d have them home by six, it should only take a few minutes.” He pauses, looking at her but feeling Walter’s eyes on him. Like he’s analyzing him, looking for faults. He can’t see the scars under Steve’s shirt. “I can’t just leave them there,” he says, pausing, thinking about how worried the kids would be. How they’d blow up the walkies trying to contact him, calling Eddie and Robin and even Nancy to ask if they know where he is, if they’ve heard from him. But he knows Walter would just laugh. “I’m responsible for them,” he finishes.

And he starts toward the door.

“When did you turn into such a little adult?” Catherine says lightly behind him, teasing. Careless.

He stops walking, fist tightening on the keys again. He’s facing the doorway, and the room is quiet except for the soft shuffling of her shoe on the ground as she undoes the buckle. And he feels like his whole body is aching and sore, because he was nine.

The first time they left him home alone. It was just a few days while they went to Indianapolis, but he remembers how quiet the house was. How he suddenly missed the smell of cigarettes and weed, how he missed the indistinct chatter of the television, of his babysitters’ voices muffled through the walls while they talked to their friends on the phone. He sat on the stairs for a while after hearing their car pull out of the driveway. Like he was waiting.

He realized after a few hours that without a babysitter, he could go outside. It was his first time outside without supervision.

He just tried to catch the fireflies.

Steve turns around and looks at them. They’re both looking back at him, eyebrows raised curiously at the way he stopped short, at the way he froze.

“Probably when I turned into an actual adult,” he says, his voice quieter than he intends.

Walter scoffs.

Steve feels like he just plunged into Lovers’ Lake again. Ice cold all over, in the dark. Eyes straining to see what’s ahead of him.

“You’re an adult when you finish high school, Steven. You’re a child.”

Steve blinks.

His gaze shifts over to him, to that fucking expression, at the earnestness in his eyes. The fucking ignorance. And Steve, inexplicably, laughs.

It’s a short laugh, but it’s almost hysterical, and he really just doesn’t know how the fuck else to react, to respond. They’re looking right at him. And they can’t see the age in his eyes, in his height, his face. They don’t even know him. He’s a stranger in their house.

They’re strangers too.

“I’m an adult, Dad,” Steve says dryly after the laugh, still half-smiling, even as the expression on Walter’s face deepens. Condescending, and mean, and judging, and even with the grey hair and the wrinkles, he’s the same man that Steve used to look up at as a child. “I graduated high school,” Steve says before Walter can say anything. “Two years ago.”

Walter blinks, making a face and looking at Catherine, who just raises an eyebrow at Steve.

“You were in Italy,” Steve says, trying as hard as he can to remain light, nonchalant, to keep his voice soft and sweet and quiet and good. “I sent you an invitation to the ceremony.”

“Oh, Steven, you know we never check our main when we’re abroad,” Catherine says lightly.

Steve looks at her. The faux kindness in her eyes. The smile gracing her red lips. Like it’s Steve's fault. Like he’s a child.

He hates her.

“Right,” he says softly, nodding slowly, looking away. “Silly me.”

“So you think finishing high school makes you a grown-up?” Walter says, amused. Steve looks at him.

“Isn’t that what you just said?”

“...Steven, you have no idea what it means to be an adult.”

Steve looks at him. At his face. The condescending shine in his eye, like he’s talking to a kid, like Steve isn’t his height. (Maybe taller. He’s too far away to tell right now.)

Stranger. Stranger. Stranger.

Steve nods. Puts his keys down.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

The phone is in the living room, near the doorway, and he closes his eyes as he picks it up, taking a deep breath before he dials the number he memorized within a day of learning it.

“Munsons.”

“Hey,” Steve says quietly. “Uh, would it be cool if you picked the kids up from the arcade for me?”

“The arcade…” Eddie repeats, his voice more distant like he’s leaning away from the phone. “Weren’t you getting them today? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve lies easily. But Eddie’s always able to know when he’s lying. Steve doesn’t know how he does it. Every time Steve lies that he’s fine, that No, my head doesn’t hurt, and I didn’t have a nightmare, I just wanted to get some water, and I feel fine. Eddie just… looks at him.

“Steve.”

And Steve always breaks. Lets the brick wall between them crumble to dust.

“Uh.” He pauses, glancing down the hall. He feels like they’re listening. “My parents came back a minute ago. We’re talking.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says. “Is everything okay? Do you need backup?”

Steve smiles into the phone, closing his eyes as his stomach flutters.

“No, just… It’ll be fine. We’re just talking.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, and Steve can practically hear the gears in his head turning.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get the little shits, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“‘Course, Stevie.” Steve’s stomach flutters again. “Good luck with your parents.”

“Thanks.”

They hang up. Steve presses his face to the wall for a moment, taking a slow breath before he exhales.

He goes back to the kitchen.

Leans against the counter by his keys. Crosses his arms and looks at the floor. Finds the cracked tile and stares at it.

It feels farther away now. Like he’s gotten taller.

“You don’t think I know what it means to be an adult,” he says.

“No, Steven,” Walter says lightly. Jovially. Condescendingly. “I think you’ve lived a very sheltered life. You haven’t seen the world, or experienced anything that could push you into adulthood. But that’s okay,” he adds like it’s reassuring. “You’re fortunate, you know.”

Steve's jaw twitches. He grinds his teeth. Stares at the tile, then the scuff on his shoe.

“Do you wanna know what I think?” Steve asks quietly.

Walter scoffs again.

The sound grates at the inside of Steve’s skull, and his stomach twists. His lungs feel constricted, like they’re too tight.

“What do you think?” Walter asks. His voice is gentle, so gentle it sounds like he’s talking to a five-year-old, humoring him, playing along. Steve lifts his head and levels a gaze on him.

And across the kitchen, in the soft late afternoon sunlight, Steve looks at his wrinkles and his grey hair and his goddamn suit, and he’s just a man. And Steve wonders how the fuck he used to look up to this man, how the fuck he used to think he was anything more than this.

“I think you don’t know shit about me,” Steve says softly.

Walter’s eyes widen, and he tilts his head in shock as Catherine lets out an Excuse me!

Steve nods, staring, and staring, and staring, and he can’t look away.

“I think you don’t know shit about me,” he says again. “I think I have been… through hell. And you weren’t here.”

“Steven—”

“You weren’t here,” Steve snaps, his voice a little louder. He uncrosses his arms and stands up straight, and he thinks he is taller than his father. His stomach twists again. “You wanna know when I became a little adult, Mom?”

She stares at him, eyes wide.

“I became a little adult when you left me home alone to fend for myself,” he says forcefully. “When I was a child. And I should have been off playing with my friends, and memorizing multiplication tables, and getting my knees scraped on the pavement.” His heart is pounding now, and he can barely hear himself over it. “I wasn’t doing any of that. I was learning how to fucking cook, because there was no one else to do that for me. I was learning how to reset the heat in the house, and I was growing up when I shouldn’t have been.”

“So you’ve been through hell because you had to learn how to use the stove,” Walter says dryly. Steve looks at him.

“God, you really have no idea who I am, Dad.”

“I’m your father,” Walter says, an amused smile teasing his lips.

“Is that what you call yourself?” Steve asks. “Is that what you tell people? That you’re a father? Because, I…” He scoffs and shakes his head, and maybe he’s more like his father than he’d hoped he’d be, but he doesn’t care right now. “I gotta tell you, man, that’s gonna be really misleading when people hear that.”

“You don’t think I’m your father,” Walter says. He’s starting to get angry, and a part of Steve feels vindicated. Good.

“No,” Steve breathes.

“How on Earth is he not?” Catherine interrupts, and Steve had almost forgotten that she’s even here, looking up at them from the chair she’s sitting in. “You have his DNA.”

“Right,” Steve says. “So we’re related. Biologically.” He looks back at Walter, and they’re closer than he thought they were, but he can't tell how close they really are. Concussions and trauma do wonders to one’s depth perception. “You didn’t raise me.”

“I didn’t raise you?” Walter says, his cheeks flushing red. Something in Steve cheers.

“No,” Steve says calmly. “You left me alone with teenagers that didn’t know shit about how to take care of children, and you left me home alone. By myself. In the middle of the fucking woods.”

“You weren’t that young, Steve—”

“I was nine.” He looks at Catherine, silencing her. “I remember.” He looks back at Walter. Their eyes meet. They have the same eye color. Steve hates it. “Fathers know their children,” he says. “You don’t know me.”

“Of course I know you,” Walter snaps. “You’re my son, Steven, how could I not—”

“How old am I?”

The room falls quiet.

Steve stares back as Walter looks at him. He can hear his own heartbeat, his own breaths. The water tapping in the sink. A bird chirping outside.

And he nods.

“You don’t know me,” he says quietly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You’re still our son,” Catherine says haughtily.

“...When’s my birthday?” he asks. When they’re silent, he says, “What am I allergic to? What’s my favorite color? Who’s my best friend?”

“The Hagan kid,” Walter says, like it’s an accomplishment, answering one question incorrectly.

“I haven’t talked to Tommy Hagan in three years,” Steve says. “And you didn’t know that.”

Walter huffs and rolls his eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that?” he mutters. “Look, Steven, this…” He gestures aimlessly at Steve, making a face. “Your favorite color, your friend’s name, they don’t matter.” He laughs lightly, dismissively. “You wanna be treated like an adult, but these are the things you care about, Steven, they’re irrelevant.”

“It doesn’t matter that they’re irrelevant, Dad,” Steve snaps, his voice louder. “It matters that you don’t care. I’m your kid, you should care about the things I like, and— and about my friends, and about my fucking birthday.”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” Walter says, his eyes darkening with anger, and Steve aches.

When he was six, he was watching Looney Tunes on the television on a Saturday morning. He laughed a little too loud, and he was sent to his room for the rest of the day. Because his father needed quiet to focus on his work. Walter’s always hated hearing Steve speak, so Steve has kept quiet. Seen and not heard. Fading in the background, hiding in plain sight. But Steve is fucking sick of being looked through. Ignored.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, almost on the verge of delirious laughter. “No, I’m gonna raise my voice at you. Because I’m pissed, and because you never had a problem raising your voice at me.”

“You were a child—”

“So that made it fine? To yell at me? To tell me to keep my fucking mouth shut? That’s all fine to tell a child?” He stares at Walter. “You wanna talk about the shit that actually matters, fine. Let’s talk about the shit that actually matters.”

He’s shaking now, breathing hard and trembling with twenty years of anger that's boiling and spilling over his edges.

“You guys know about Hawkins,” he says, crossing his arms and looking at the floor, avoiding their gazes as he takes a breath.

“About Hawkins,” Walter repeats.

“Hawkins, yeah,” Steve says. “The shitshow that is my hometown, you know all the shit that’s happened here, right? The missing kids, the— the fires, the lab.”

“Of course we know everything about this town, Steven,” Catherine says curtly. “We’ve lived here twenty years.”

“You really haven’t,” Steve says lightly. “But that’s fine. You know about everything.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “You know the girl that went missing?” he asks, looking up at them. “Barbara. And the whole conspiracy with the lab and the chemical spill and everything.”

“Yes,” Walter says. “We heard about all of that.”

They’re both staring at him curiously now, quiet while he looks back.

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “I was involved in all of that.” He watches their confusion deepen the wrinkles on their faces. “She was my ex-girlfriend’s best friend. She went missing from here, from—” He gestures out the window, toward the pool that’s covered with a blue tarp. The water is probably swimming with dead leaves.

“You know anything about Billy Hargrove?”

Catherine blinks.

“The… The boy that passed away in the fire,” she says slowly, remembering. “At the mall.”

The fire.

“The boy,” he mutters to himself before he bites his lip, pausing. “Yeah. The year before he ate shit, he almost fucking killed me.”

They both blink at him, blank.

“And he tried to kill me,” he continues, “because I stopped him from killing a thirteen-year-old.” He takes a shuddering breath, uncrossing his arms, looking at them, and his vision wavers as he remembers it, as he remembers the glass smashing over his head, the floor against his back, Billy’s laughter. The kids’ shouting. “He beat… the shit out of me. Gave me a grade four concussion.”

He looks back at forth between them, waiting for a reaction, but they keep staring. Catherine’s eyes are wide, but Walter just looks angry. Like Steve is wasting his time.

“It took me three weeks to recover from it,” he says. “And you were in fucking Spain.”

His voice shakes.

“The mall fire,” he continues before they can say anything. “You know about it. Fourth of July, thirty dead.”

“Yes,” Catherine says softly.

“Take a wild fucking guess where I was.”

Silence.

Until Catherine’s voice says quietly, “...The mall.”

“Inside,” Steve says softly, looking at her intently. “With my friends, with the kids I babysit— and it wasn’t just a— a fucking fire.” He takes a shaky breath. “I can’t tell you what really happened, because I signed a goddamn nondisclosure agreement—”

“Steven, what—”

“But I can tell you,” he interrupts loudly. “That I got the shit beaten out of me again.”

A flash of light. A fist cracking against his face. An ache in his ribs, a sharp pain in the side of his neck. His own voice, rough from screaming, broken and pleading.

“Another grade four concussion. The medics asked for my home number so one of you could come to pick me up,” he says, his throat tightening, his eyes stinging. “And I had to tell him that you were in Chicago for a fucking business trip.” His breath shudders, and his vision blurs, and his hands are trembling as he gestures aimlessly, pointing to nothing. “I was driven home by a fucking government agent, because you weren’t here.”

“Steven—”

“You heard about the kids in town that were murdered?” he says, his voice breaking, tears sparking his eyes. “The kids that were fucking… broken?”

“...Of course we heard about them.”

Steve exhales shakily.

“...There was a serial killer loose in town,” he says, fingers curling into fists. “And you never even called.”

“We were working,” Walter snaps.

“You’re always fucking working,” Steve says strongly. “I got used to you not being around, but it didn’t make it any fucking easier. You weren’t here when I had concussions, when I couldn’t fucking see, or when my hearing started going, you weren’t here when I could barely move because my injuries were infected, you were never fucking here.”

“Oh, Lord,” Walter says, rolling his eyes and scoffing, glancing at Catherine. Steve’s stomach twists, and he can’t see clearly. Everything is too bright, swimming in his tears. “How were we supposed to know you were hurt?”

Hurt.

He makes it sound so… little. Like Steve had a papercut. Like he needed a band-aid and a kiss on his forehead to feel better.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Dad,” Steve says adamantly. “Obviously you wouldn’t fucking know, that’s not the problem— The problem is that you weren’t here for any of it, for anything I’ve gone through, and even when you knew what the fuck was happening in this town you couldn’t even be bothered to call, to— to make sure I was okay.”

“You said you’re an adult, didn’t you?”

Steve exhales.

He doesn’t feel like an adult right now.

He feels like a child. Like he’s five years old, searching for his parents’ attention, their affection, anything. Like they’re looking past him, through him, ignoring him in the hopes that he finally shuts up.

Seen and not heard.

“You said you signed a nondisclosure agreement,” Walter says. “Let’s say you really did— You have to be eighteen for contracts to be legally binding. So you’re an adult.” Walter looks into his eyes, like he’s sizing him up. “You shouldn’t need mommy and daddy to take care of you.”

Steve’s lip quivers. He blinks tears back. And he’s stuck here. A kindergartener in the body of a twenty-year-old, the way he was thirty when he was twelve. Unmoving.

Walter scoffs again, looking at Steve trying not to cry.

“Are you done with your little temper tantrum?” he asks dryly, turning slightly. “It was a long trip back, I’d like to take a shower and rest.”

And Steve longs to tell them. About the monsters, the dark, the flickering and flashing lights. About the Upside Down. To show them the scars that cover his skin.

“You weren’t here when I was a child, either,” Steve says, stopping him before he can leave, and Walter turns with a heavy sigh, giving Steve a bored look. Steve’s fists tighten. His nails bite into his palms.

“Steven,” Catherine says, standing from the table like she’s bored too. “That’s quite enough.”

“You weren’t here when I was injured,” Steve says shakily, his vision blurring again. “You weren’t here when I was concussed, and when I couldn’t see, and you weren’t here when I turned twenty, or when I graduated high school, and you weren’t here when I learned how to ride a bike, or how to swim, and you weren’t here when I got my first A, and you weren’t here for parent-teacher conferences— I went by myself,” he adds roughly, gesturing at himself, hitting his own chest.

“Steven—”

“You weren’t here when I had nightmares or when I got sick, I took care of myself.”

“It made you strong—”

“I was a child!”

He’s never raised his voice at them like this. Never yelled. But he’s crying now, tears falling freely down his cheeks as they stare like he’s grown another head, and he can’t help it.

“I didn’t need to be strong,” he shouts. “I needed to be loved, and I fucking wasn’t.”

“How…” Catherin huffs, her face red, and Steve looks at her, taking a hiccuping breath. “You think we didn’t love you,” she says. “But we provided a roof over your head, and—”

“A roof wasn’t enough,” he says, holding back a sob. “I used to— I used to wait after school, fucking waiting for you to come get me, to— to drive me home, I used to watch all the other kids with their moms and dads, I used to watch them laugh, and smile, and hug them, and I fucking waited for you. I waited until nighttime once, and you never fucking came.”

“Steven, that’s just irresponsible,” Walter says, and Steve hiccups.

“I was nine,” he says. “I waited for you, all I fucking wanted was my parents to drive me to school, and you were off in fucking Paris or wherever the hell you were. I had to teach myself how to ride a bike, and I had to take myself, because you weren’t here—”

“I have responsibilities—”

“I was your responsibility,” Steve finally screams. “I was your son.”

He takes a gasping breath as they stare at him again, and he wipes his face so roughly it hurts.

“I missed you,” he chokes. “I needed you.”

“You clearly didn’t need us that much,” Walter says, huffing, gesturing at him. His wedding band sparkling in the sun and Steve wants to melt it. “If you’re doing just fine now.”

“I’m not,” Steve says before he can stop himself.

He’s never said it before. That he’s not fine. Even when he was concussed, when Robin was concerned, he insisted he was okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad, Robbie, don’t worry. And he went home. Turned off the lights. Covered the windows. Laid in bed. Cried.

It’s some cruel, cruel irony that these are the first people to know.

“I’m so fucking far from fine,” Steve says. He covers his face for a moment, and for a brief second, he wishes he was bruised, purple and blue and bloody. He doesn’t know why. Maybe so they could fucking see it. So they’d believe him.

“...The first time my best friend said I love you to me, I laughed.” He looks at them, and he suddenly wants to crumple to the floor, to lean against the wall, to go to bed. Exhausted. “I never fucking heard it from you guys. Never heard it from my girlfriend. I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know what it fucking meant.”

He looks at them across the room. They’re both near the doorway of the kitchen, both turned slightly toward each other like they’re leaving, hesitating to watch Steve. Like he’s putting on a performance, like he’s pretending.

“You really fucked me up,” he says weakly, tiredly.

They’re quiet for a moment. And he doesn’t know what he expects. An apology. We’re sorry, Steve, we’ll be better parents from now on. We’ll be present in your life.

“I really don’t like the language you’ve been using today, Steven,” Catherine says. Ignoring him. The tears on his face. “It’s really no way to speak to your parents.”

But he supposes he should have seen this coming. The deflection.

He looks away, blinking tears back and exhaling, but before he can say anything, a car pulls into the driveway. He turns to look out the window, wiping his face as he catches the end of Eddie’s van before it’s hidden from view, and in spite of it all, he smiles.

That was quick.

He should have anticipated Eddie coming over as soon as he could. He probably sped on the way here.

“Who…” Walter starts, but he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open. The doorknob hits the wall with a muffled bang, and a moment later, Eddie appears behind in the entry to the kitchen.

Walter and Catherine part, looking him up and down, looking, scandalized, at the rips in his jeans, the swords on his t-shirt that form an upside down star, at his hair. And he isn’t even wearing a jacket or any jewellery, and Steve’s stomach flutters with the realization that Eddie really didn’t waste any time.

Eddie’s eyes find Steve, and he crosses the room, pushing past Walter.

“Are you okay?” he asks Steve quickly, his eyes scanning over his face, his body, lingering on the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Did they touch you?”

“No,” Steve says softly, wiping his face again, and Eddie’s eyes follow the movement. Steve thinks he must be holding himself back; usually after nightmares, he wipes Steve’s tears for him, the same way Steve wipes his. “No, I just…”

Eddie exhales, looking into Steve’s eyes, looking for a lie. He’s out of breath, like he ran here instead of drove, and Steve smiles weakly. Until Walter interrupts.

“Who the hell do you think you are,” he says forcefully, and Eddie and Steve turn to look at him. “Coming into my house.”

Eddie looks back and forth between Walter and Catherine like he’s trying to memorize them both, scanning their clothing the way they scanned his. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pursed, and even though from here Steve can’t really see him, there’s a warm pit in his stomach, because Eddie’s so beautiful, and he came for Steve, and he’s stepping forward a little bit like Walter is going to try to lay a hand on Steve, and Steve’s never felt so fucking safe before, and he doesn’t know what to do with this, and—

Catherine gasps. Steps back with a slight stumble even though she’s not wearing her high-heels anymore. Clutches at her pearls.

“You’re that boy,” she says, touching Walter’s arm and pulling. “That Hellfire boy, you—”

“Eddie didn’t do anything,” Steve interrupts, his stomach dropping, but Walter recognizes him too, and he turns red, glancing at Steve and then looking back at Eddie.

“Get out of my house,” he says, his voice too loud, and Steve feels so fucking small, and he hates feeling small.

But Walter starts toward Eddie when he doesn’t say anything, and Steve remembers suddenly that he isn’t small anymore.

He steps in front of Eddie, knocking Walter’s hand aside before he presses his fingertips to his chest, pushing him back gently. Walter stares, wide-eyed, red-faced.

“You lay a finger on him,” Steve says too calmly, “and I will fucking kill you.”

Walter blinks, shock coloring his face darker before he laughs, but it’s a forced laugh, and Steve’s never been more serious in his life, his hands shaking with adrenaline, his heart pounding, and Walter doesn’t seem to know that Steve will do whatever the fuck he needs to for Eddie.

“You think you can kill me, Steven?” Steve looks into his eyes.

He’s smaller than Steve. Not by much, but when Steve lifts his chin, he has to look down at him to hold eye contact.

“We just had a whole conversation about how little you know me,” he says quietly. “Do you really wanna fucking test me?”

He hears Eddie exhale behind him, but he doesn’t look away, staring into Walter’s eyes, challenging him, and his hands almost itch. He hasn’t had any fights in a good long while.

Walter looks past him, breaking eye contact, staring Eddie down now, but his eyes flicker like he’s looking across Eddie’s face, analyzing him. Steve knows what he’s looking at. The scar on his cheek, the mangled skin. Steve loves that scar. It had to be stitched together, but it makes Steve think of the constellation Cassiopeia, almost W-shaped. He longs to trace it someday. To thank it.

Walter backs up finally, and Steve exhales, watching him go back across the room to stand with Catherine, who’s still watching, wide-eyed, a hand on her chest over her heart.

“Sickening, Steven,” Walter says, shaking his head and glaring at Eddie. “Really. I thought I raised you to associate yourself with better—”

“You didn’t raise me,” Steve interrupts. “Stop… acting like you were some fantastic fucking father that a fucking stand-up job of raising a son, you didn’t do shit.” He stares, breathing hard, his back tingling with some sort of anticipation. “I did. Not you.”

“So you think you’re so independent?” Walter says with that awful fucking laugh again.

“I had to be,” Steve says softly. Eddie is closer now, still behind Steve, but less like Steve is protecting him, and more like Eddie is here. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

Walter looks at him. At Eddie. He’s holding the back of a chair, exasperated, and he shakes his head.

“Never thought I’d be so disappointed in my own son.”

Steve looks away, hesitating.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. His voice is so kind.

“...Can you go upstairs and pack me a bag?”

“‘Course.”

Eddie touches the small of his back gently as he passes by toward the entryway, where he passes Walter and Catherine with a faux polite nod that’s so on brand for Eddie that Steve wants to smile.

Walter glares at Steve while Eddie goes upstairs, and Steve can hear him breathing heavily. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw him this angry.

And then Walter is standing up straight abruptly, muttering something about fucking trash in my house under his breath as he leaves the kitchen, and Steve’s stomach drops as he follows, his vision blurring as his blood courses in his veins, fingers twitching. But instead of going up the stairs, Walters passes by them, headed toward the master bedroom, and Steve stops, watching. He scoffs when he realizes where he’s headed, and he leans against the wall. He hears a thump upstairs.

“Steven, you really…” Catherine shakes her head in disappointment. She’s got her arms crossed, twisting the plastic pearls of her necklace. “This is all very disrespectful.”

Steve looks down at her.

“...You think you deserve my respect?” he asks quietly. She looks at him like she’s alarmed. “You think I care if you think you do?”

He looks away before she can respond.

Eddie is coming down the top steps just as Walter appears again.

Steve looks up at Eddie.

He’s carrying a duffel bag on his shoulder, carrying the nail bat in one of his hands, and he raises an eyebrow as Walter yells at Steve from across the room.

“Where is it?”

“Nowhere you’ll find it,” Steve says lightly, lifting a hand to catch the bat as Eddie tosses it to him as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. Walter is huffing, and puffing, and it’s kind of ridiculous now.

“What’s he looking for?”

“Gun.”

“Ah.” Eddie is almost smiling. The gun is in the back of his van, taken for target practice when Nancy taught Robin how to shoot.

Steve turns back into the kitchen to grab his keys, swinging the bat. It scratches the tile floor. When he turns back around, Walter and Catherine are staring at it, at the rusted nails and the blood-stained wood.

“What the hell…”

Steve swings it again, moving his keys so he’s holding the one for his car between his fingers.

“You don’t know me.”

Eddie is by the door with the duffel bag when Steve gets to the hallway, and he looks into Steve’s eyes. The light is dimmer now. The sun’s starting to go down.

“Come to my place, yeah?” Eddie says softly, touching Steve’s arm gently, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his jacket before he squeezes. His eyes are shining earnestly, and Steve’s chest aches. He nods.

They both step out onto the porch. It’s cold out, the air biting at Steve’s face, but it feels refreshing, like inside the house was stuffy and claustrophobic, like he’d been trapped under a blanket for too long. Eddie goes to the van, tossing the duffel bag in as he gives Steve one more look.

“Is there anything else we don’t know about you?” Walter says behind Steve, who turns to look at him again.

Walter’s eyes are lingering on Steve’s arm, like he can see Eddie’s handprint on it, and then he looks into Steve’s eyes, shining with disgust and judgement and hatred, and Steve

doesn’t

fucking

care.

“You’ll never get to know,” he says quietly.

And he leaves.

He’s vaguely aware of Catherine saying something, her voice high-pitched and wavering, and Walter shouting something about the car, but Steve ignores them, blank and empty as he gets into the car and pulls out of the driveway. He glances at the house in the rearview mirror as he leaves. It occurs to him that with the location of it, hidden by trees, away from town, Steve could live in Hawkins all his life and never have to look at the house again.

He smiles.

Eddie and Wayne live in an apartment in town now. It’s two floors above a cafe that opened a little after Starcourt, and sometimes when Steve is going to the door, he smells coffee and baking pastries. It’s nice.

He doesn’t smell it at this time of night, though.

He and Eddie arrive around the same time, and they’re quiet as Steve parks next to the van, grabs the bat and silently follows Eddie to the door. Eddie leads him in, up the narrow stairs, and they’re quiet as he unlocks the apartment, as they step inside and kick their shoes off. Steve leaves the bat resting against the wall by the door in Eddie’s room, and Eddie tosses him his bag.

Steve looks into it, rummages through the bunched-up, hastily-packed underwear, jeans, shirts, sweaters. His fingers brush cold cans that he recognizes as his hairspray, and he smiles, his stomach fluttering because Eddie remembered where they were.

“Steve,” Eddie says softly. He’s leaning against his dresser. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says easily.

“Steve,” Eddie says again, almost whispering.

“I am, Eddie,” Steve says, looking up at him, his hands falling still on top of the bag. Eddie’s eyes are shining with concern, and his arms are crossed. “I really…” He trails off, looking at the ground.

It’s hardwood, the wood faded and creaky, and there are a few gaps between the floorboard. He can see the nails in them, shining in the dim light of Eddie’s room, and it makes Steve think about the tiles in the kitchen at his parents’ house. Faded and dull and cracked because they’ve been walked on. Used.

“I feel great,” he says, looking back at Eddie, half-smiling.

Eddie’s expression softens.

“Just tired,” Steve adds, looking away. “I haven’t… cried. In a while.”

“You wanna lay down?”

Steve hesitates.

“...Can I borrow a sweater?”

Eddie smiles.

“‘Course, Stevie.”

Steve likes it when he calls him that.

It makes him feel little, but not in the way his parents make him feel. Not little like a little boy, like he has to stay quiet, stay still, like he can’t ask for a second serving of dinner or turn the volume of the television up past three in case he pisses them off.

Little like Eddie will take care of him.

Which he does, even though he has no idea how it really affects Steve, how it makes butterflies erupt in his belly every time he touches him, every time he calls him Stevie. He has no idea how hard Steve is crushing on him, and a part of Steve hates him for it. For how sweet he is, how kind.

Because there are nights he’ll call after a nightmare and Steve will look out at the moon while he listens to him cry, while he listens to Eddie tell him he called because in the dream he lost Steve, because he needed to make sure he was okay.

Because Eddie touches him in ways no one else does, in ways no one else ever has. In ways Steve wouldn’t ever let anyone.

He blushes every time he remembers that night, the night he’d spent after staying up too late watching movies with Eddie. He’d had a gruesome nightmare, but as soon as his eyes opened he couldn’t remember what had happened. But Eddie was there, tentatively touching his hand, eyes wide awake, saying Stevie. Stevie. I’m right here. You’re okay. And Steve had just cried, reaching out to Eddie, who took him in his arms.

He held Steve until he stopped crying. And then he kept holding him. Steve had pushed his face into Eddie’s chest, gripping his shirt, listening intently to Eddie’s heartbeat. It was a little fast, but it still helped.

And then Eddie pushed a hand into Steve's hair.

Steve was already falling asleep, and he had let out a soft hum. Eddie pulled his hand away, apologizing.

Sorry, I know you don’t like your hair being touched.

And even half-asleep, Steve spoke.

Only you. Please.

Eddie pushed his hand back into his hair gently. Steve hummed. Eddie’s fingers twisted around the strands carefully as his other hand slid up Steve’s back, and Steve just fucking melted. He let out a whine that he could barely hear, and Eddie’s fingers curled into a fist, gripping his hair in a tightening fist until it almost hurt, and Steve groaned.

Too hard?

Mm. Feels good.

Eddie kept doing it until Steve fell asleep, pulling his hair, squeezing his fist in it, tugging until Steve’s scalp ached dully, and when Steve woke up, Eddie was still asleep, his hand still in Steve’s hair. And then it was normal, every time they slept in the same bed or sat too close on the sofa during movie nights, Eddie’s fingers would find Steve’s hair again.

They both change. Eddie tosses Steve some sweatpants along with the sweater, and Steve smiles, glancing up at Eddie as he changes, facing away from Steve. He’s paler than Steve, and Steve kind of wants to see what their skin would look like side-by-side, pressing close. His scars are mesmerizing. Steve wants to trace them with his fingertips, with his lips and tongue.

Eddie beckons to Steve when they’re climbing into his bed, and Steve sighs. They move into their normal position, Eddie leaning against the wall, Steve between his legs, back to his chest.

He feels little again.

Eddie’s arms wrap around him, hugging him tightly, and Steve lets his head fall back to his shoulder, sighing. He slides his hands over Eddie’s forearms. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, and the fabric is soft. Steve plays with one of the folds, looking around the room, and he realizes they haven’t communicated at all about how long Steve is staying here.

His bag is on the floor by the dresser. It blends right in with Eddie’s dark clothes littered around the floor and hanging out of his drawers, with the dark rug that Eddie bought when he moved in.

Steve’s eyes trail across the wall, across the sliding doors of the wardrobe that are partially open, the interior hidden in shadows. At the CORRODED COFFIN tapestry that’s pinned up, the Judas Priest poster on the back of the door. The photos and magazine pages and posters that are covering the old, faded wallpaper. Eddie’s lamps have a golden glow, and it makes everything look warm. Steve loves it here.

“How long am I staying here?” Steve asks softly, and Eddie snorts, arms tightening, burying his face in Steve’s neck.

“Forever?” he says. “I hope?”

Steve’s stomach flutters.

“You want me to stay forever?”

“Mm.”

Steve exhales when Eddie’s hand finds his, and he watches, spreading his fingers to lace with Eddie’s. His hand is a little cold.

“Sounds nice,” he says quietly. Eddie hums. He sets his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“You still feel okay?” he asks softly, his voice soft and breathy next to Steve’s ear.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. He feels so okay. Here in Eddie’s room, in his clothes, in his arms. “I feel good.”

One of Eddie’s arms reaches across his chest like he’s keeping him secure, and he rubs Steve’s upper arm, squeezing gently.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

Steve takes a breath, unlacing their fingers to trace the back of Eddie’s hand.

“It was kind of, like. A lot of stuff.”

“Tell me, Stevie.”

Steve closes his eyes.

“They, uhm. Came back and just… started telling me my car was dirty, started saying the— the kitchen floor was dirty, that they should get the tiles replaced. They didn’t even say hi.”

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes.

“And when I tried to leave, I had to, like, explain I had to pick up the kids, and Dad started, just, berating me for babysitting, and Mom made this… comment. That I was acting like an adult. And when I said I am one, Dad…” He exhales, pressing closer to Eddie, whose arms tighten. “Said I’d be an adult when I graduated high school.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment before,

“What?”

“Yeah, they don’t— they don’t even know how old I am.”

“Holy fuck, Stevie,” Eddie says softly, squeezing him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve ignores the butterflies that erupt in his stomach.

“It’s…”

“You don’t have to say it’s fine.”

“...It’s not fine.”

“‘S right.”

“I tried… I tried telling them, like— showing them how they just don’t know me, but they just— everything I fucking said, they just… Tried to make it so it wasn’t their fault. Pretended it was no big deal, even though— even though it is, I…”

“It is,” Eddie murmurs softly. “It matters to you, they never treated you right, Stevie.”

Steve exhales shakily, relaxing against him again.

“They’re so fucking condescending,” he says after a moment, his voice softer. Eddie rubs his arm gently, reassuringly. “He always does this thing, where, like… If I point something out, or I— I do something, he pulls this bullshit, and he’ll say, like, Oh, let’s say that’s true, as though I don’t fucking know, like I didn’t just fucking tell him.”

Eddie lifts a hand and reaches to touch his hair, running his fingers through it gently.

“He said I’d be an adult when I graduate high school, and then as soon as I told him I did, and I am, suddenly I actually know nothing about adulthood and I haven’t experienced the world, and I’m— Whose fucking fault is that? They never took me along on any of their fucking trips, they left me in fucking Hawkins, Indiana.”

Eddie plays with his hair, listening to him talk. His fingers are so gentle.

“He said I was having a temper tantrum,” Steve says, looking across the room. Eddie’s hand tightens, tugging gently. “I just… They make me feel like— like such a child. And it’s bullshit, because how can I feel so fucking little when they never treated me like I was little when I was?” he rambles. “They acted like I was a grown man when I was a kid, they acted like I knew how to live my life, but they were never there to show me how. And now I am grown, but they tell me I’m disrespectful, and that I’m having a tantrum, and…”

“Take a deep breath for me,” Eddie says softly.

Steve inhales slowly, closing his eyes, and he exhales after holding it for a moment, relaxing against Eddie again, who murmurs a soft, “There you go.”

“Can I tell you something?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve nods, holding his forearm with both hands as his fingers drag through his hair slowly. “...You did everything fucking right, Stevie.”

“...You think?”

“Jesus, yeah. They’ve never treated you the way you deserve, Steve, you have every fuckin’ right to stand up for yourself, to— to tell them to go fuck themselves.”

Steve exhales again, a feeling settling in his chest.

“I hate them,” he says quietly.

“Me too.”

“And I hate that fucking house.”

“You’re here now.”

Eddie tightens his fist in his hair, and Steve sighs, closing his eyes.

“Love you,” Eddie says softly. Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a second.

Eddie says that a lot. Every time they say goodbye, every time Steve does something stupid, every time either of them has a nightmare.

It was a nightmare that prompted it the first time. Eddie had slept over at Steve’s, and Steve woke up to Eddie crying in his sleep, his body shaking as he cried into the pillow, whimpering and clutching at the blanket. Steve woke him up carefully, touching his face, his hands, his arms, squeezing as gently as possible, whispering his name. Eddie woke after a minute, his eyes finding Steve in the dim moonlight, and before Steve could even say anything, he was reaching out for him, sobbing and pressing his face into Steve’s chest as Steve pulled him into a hug. He whispered it when he stopped crying, as they were rocking back and forth, as Stee combed the tangles out of his hair.

I love you, Stevie.

And Steve’s world flipped inside out, and he was in pain, every cell in his body on fire, because he was hearing it, because Eddie told him, and because only Robin had ever said it to him like that, all three words, carefully annunciated, intentionally said. And also because Steve knew how he meant it.

I love you too, Eddie.

“Why’d you come?” Steve asks. “After taking the kids home?”

“Wanted to make sure you were okay,” Eddie says. “...Had a feeling.”

“...Thank you,” Steve whispers.

Eddie takes a breath, tugging again before he turns his face and presses a kiss to Steve’s temple.

He’s never done that before.

Steve feels almost sick with butterflies, and he can feel his face flushing with heat, but he can’t suppress his smile. Eddie looks at him for a moment, and then he does it again, slowly. Deliberately.

Steve exhales, letting himself feel it, Eddie’s lips on his skin, his breath warm and close. Eddie’s hand tightens again, his fist squeezing in Steve’s hair before he lets go.

And then Eddie’s lips press to his cheek, slowly and softly, and then again, and again, slowly moving down toward Steve’s jaw. Steve tilts his head, his eyes closed, and he’s scared to open them, scared he might wake up.

Eddie’s lips press under his jaw, sucking a soft kiss into his skin, and when he pulls away, his lips brush Steve’s skin as he murmurs, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

And Steve whimpers.

He’s gripping Eddie’s arm tightly, and he feels like he might start crying, but Eddie just kisses him again, moving down to the side of his neck, gently pulling his hair out of the way.

Steve bites his lip to hold in another sound, squeezing his eyes shut as he listens to it, to Eddie’s lips on his skin, to Eddie’s soft, slow breathing, as he feels Eddie’s fingers tug at his hair. He feels fucking weightless, like he’s floating in the air, like nothing in the world exists right now except for them.

“So proud,” Eddie breathes against his neck, kissing him again.

“Did I do good?”

Steve wants to jump out the fucking window.

His voice comes out weak and breathy, quiet and so fucking desperate that he flushes with embarrassment, and he opens his eyes like he’s going to look for an escape, to leave even though he just got here, but Eddie…

“So fucking good, Stevie,” he whispers without hesitation. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and he exhales sharply, his head falling back as Eddie kisses his neck again. It’s wet this time, and Steve keens at the thought of Eddie’s open mouth against him, of his tongue and his teeth and his spit.

“Eddie,” Steve whines breathlessly, squeezing his arm.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks quickly, his hand pausing in Steve’s hair.

“Don’t stop,” Steve says weakly. Eddie hums softly, his hand tightening, and Steve lets out a soft noise before Eddie kisses a slow line up the side of his neck until he finds his earlobe, where he pauses, kissing it before he sucks it between his lips as gently as possible. “Eddie.”

“Alright?”

“Mm. Feel so good.”

Eddie hums quietly, and Steve keens as he nibbles at the shell of his ear, his teeth nipping gently, tenderly. His arm tightens around Steve’s torso, his other hand squeezing in his hair so hard that it hurts, and one of Steve’s hands finds Eddie’s leg next to him, gripping just above his knee desperately.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs into his ear, like he just knows how overwhelmed Steve is, how his whole body is flooding with this feeling.

“You got me,” Steve repeats absently, head lolling back onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“‘S right, Stevie.”

He kisses his neck again, harder, more confidently, his teeth and tongue on Steve’s skin, and Steve fucking hopes he leaves marks in his path. He wants evidence of this, proof that it wasn’t all in Steve’s head like some fucked up wet dream.

Eddie tugs on his hair, moving his hand to the back of his head before twisting his fingers in it tightly. Steve lets out a broken noise, biting his lip to muffle it.

“Eddie—”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes.

“I…”

“What is it?” Eddie whispers, kissing his jaw gently. “Tell me.”

“Need more,” Steve says weakly, his face hot with embarrassment.

“More what?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve wants to be annoyed, to roll his eyes and tell Eddie not to make him say it, but he can’t, because his head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and his limbs feel heavy, and he feels fucking high, just because of Eddie’s mouth on him, because of Eddie’s sweet words.

“You,” he chokes. “Please, Eddie, I need you, please—”

“Fuck,” Eddie exhales, tugging Steve’s hair so his head tilts before he leans down and kisses his neck, his lips brushing his skin as he speaks. “I need you too, Stevie.”

Steve stifles a whine, pressing his lips together as Eddie sits up a little, leaning closer to kiss his neck, and he’s almost kissing his throat now as Steve’s head falls back, and Steve reaches up to his head, pushing his fingers into Eddie’s curls messily.

“Eddie, please,” he says softly. “More.”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses, breathing hard against Steve’s neck. “Turn around, come here.”

Steve turns, aching when he has to leave Eddie’s chest, and he tries to keep his balance on Eddie’s soft mattress that’s covered in blankets. Their legs tangle, and Steve has to take a moment to sort them out, and Eddie giggles softly, reaching to push Steve’s hair out of his face. Steve smiles hopelessly, moving forward.

Eddie pulls at his legs, tugging him so their legs are wrapped around each other, so their chests almost press, so their faces are close. Eddie looks wrecked, his cheeks flushed, hair messy, eyes shining like he’s going to cry, and Steve knows he can’t look much better. He exhales, reaching up to trace his scar. It stretches when Eddie smiles. Eddie closes his eyes, turning his head to let him.

His hands slide up from Steve’s legs to his hips, his waist, pressing and firm and gentle on Steve’s sides. Steve slides his hands to hold his face, leaning close enough that their noses nudge together.

Eddie exhales, his eyes fluttering shut, and his hands slide to Steve’s back, pulling him closer as he murmurs.

“So fucking proud of you, Stevie, I can’t even tell you,” he says softly, nudging their noses together again. “No fucking words.”

Steve’s body flushes with heat, and he melts, his hands slipping to Eddie’s neck. He can feel the scars under his fingertips.

He tilts his head, his eyes stinging as Eddie keeps talking, keeping whispering and murmuring about how proud he is.

No one’s ever told Steve that they’re proud of him. He’s never heard it before.

But Eddie says it so earnestly, like he’s fucking reverent, and Steve listens.

And then Eddie is kissing him between words, his lips gentle and a little chapped against Steve’s, and Steve feels like he’s going to fall over with it all, his lips parted because he can barely kiss back. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his chin, whispering to him.

“So proud of you, Stevie, you did so fucking good. So brave.”

Steve’s hands find Eddie’s head again, his fingers pushing into his curls, and he sighs, listening and listening and listening and absorbing the feeling of Eddie’s lips pressing to his softly.

His hands tighten in his hair after a moment, and he pulls Eddie in, shutting him up with a hard, lingering kiss. Eddie’s hands tighten on Steve’s waist, his fingers pressing into the scarred skin, and Steve’s whole body aches. They part with a slick sound and a gasp, but Steve pulls him back in before he can say anything, tugging his hair.

Eddie kisses him back desperately, clutching at his back, tilting his head to kiss him deeper, and Steve thinks he might be dying. It feels so fucking good, and the way Eddie is touching him…

His fingers dig into the knit of the sweater he’s wearing, holding him close as his legs tighten around him, and after a moment, one of his hands slides around Steve’s side, up over his chest slowly until it reaches his neck. It feels like he’s being so careful, gentle like Steve is delicate, and Steve’s never wanted to feel delicate before, but he’s basking in Eddie’s touch like it’s sunlight. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, and their chests are almost touching as Eddie nibbles his lip the way he did with his ear earlier.

It feels kind of silly, really, in the grand scheme of things.

That they’d survive the end of the world, stop the end of the world, live through horrors beyond comprehension, and Eddie is proud of him for yelling at his parents. And now they’re making out, kissing each other stupid in Eddie’s bedroom, surrounded by his posters and blankets and the glow of his cracked lamps.

But Steve can’t think of a single place he’d rather be.

Eddie is holding the side of his face now, his fingers gentle on his skin, and Steve holds in a groan when Eddie’s tongue slips past his lips, his chest tightening.

Eddie pulls away and they both gasp for air.

“Baby,” Eddie breathes.

“God, yeah.”

“Was that okay?” Eddie asks quietly, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek, and Steve closes his eyes as they start to sting. He doesn’t want to cry right now.

“Yeah,” he says weakly, almost choking the word out. “It was so okay, Eddie, I… Please.”

Eddie kisses him again. Pulls away to breathe, resting their foreheads together.

“Want you,” Steve says softly, whispering.

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but he can’t take it back.

Especially when Eddie is kissing him like this, like he’d die if he didn’t, like he’s drowning and Steve is air. Steve’s arms tighten around his neck, and he’s shivering, chills spreading over his skull, down his spine, as he listens to the soft breathy hums Eddie is letting out as he listens to the wet sounds of their lips, their tongues. Eddie licks into his mouth, licks his lips and his teeth and the roof of his mouth, and Steve lets him, even though their lips and chins are wet now, slick with each other’s spit, and it’s a little gross. Steve doesn’t fucking care. It feels good.

He lets out a whine, letting his jaw drop for Eddie to suck on his tongue for a moment, and his cheeks flush with heat. Eddie smiles against his mouth, kissing him again.

“You still want more?” Eddie murmurs, caressing his cheek. Steve exhales, nodding.

“Please.”

Eddie presses wet kisses over his jaw, down his neck, and Steve melts, his head falling back to give him room. He shivers, tightening, when Eddie’s lips find his throat, pausing to suck on his skin lightly before he continues, kissing across the scars on his neck.

His scars are lighter than Eddie’s. Shallower. A metallic, faded pink that only stands out against his skin when he tans.

His parents didn’t notice them.

Or the scar on his chin, which Steve forgets about himself a lot of the time. It’s from that night at Starcourt. He used to stare at it in the mirror, hating it, hating himself. It’s faded so much it’s barely noticeable, but everyone knows it’s there. Steve knows it’s there.

Eddie knows it’s there.

He kisses it when he finishes with Steve’s neck, holding Steve’s face in place as he presses kiss after kiss after kiss to it, softly and tenderly, and Steve wonders if he looks at this scar the way Steve looks at his scar.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, and Eddie presses his thumb to his lower lip, pulling it free before he kisses him gently.

“Do you wanna take your sweater off?” he asks quietly, whispering. Steve nods.

“You too,” he whispers, opening his eyes and meeting Eddie’s gaze. He looks so… tender. His eyes are shining at Steve, and he’s almost smiling, just barely, and his face is so relaxed, more at peace than Steve thinks he’s ever seen him while awake. “Please.”

Eddie nods, kissing him again before pulling his hands away from his face, and he reaches for the hem of the sweater Steve is wearing.

They have to separate for him to pull it up over Steve’s head, and Steve shivers when it’s off, the air in the room colder than he expected. Eddie tosses the sweater aside, his eyes skimming over Steve’s body, and he feels shy suddenly, overcome with the desire to hide his chest, his scars, the soft rolls of his belly.

Eddie pulls his sweatshirt off, and Steve watches, crossing his arms over his stomach as he looks at Eddie’s pale skin, at the scars that mark his sides, his chest. The art that’s inked into his skin. One of the tattoos is almost gone, the bare edges of it rough around the skin graft on his chest.

“Don’t do that,” Eddie says softly, like he’s scared of disturbing the quiet air. He reaches for Steve’s hands, pulling them away from where they’re hiding his stomach, and he leans in to kiss him, pulling his hands to touch Eddie. “Wanna see you.”

Steve kisses him back, squeezing his eyes shut, and he slides his hands across Eddie’s chest to touch his neck. Eddie hums, pulling his mouth away to look at him, and Steve blushes as Eddie’s eyes scan his chest, his arms, his belly.

“So fucking gorgeous, baby,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth.

Steve whines.

He pulls Eddie into another desperate kiss, and he shifts onto his knees, leaning over him, holding Eddie’s jaw so he tilts his head back.

“You too,” he says breathlessly, into Eddie’s mouth. “So fucking pretty, Eddie, you’re so beautiful it fucking hurts.”

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie pants, and he wraps his arms around Steve’s legs, holding him as they kiss, and it’s messy and sloppy and desperate, and Steve feels like Eddie is touching him everywhere, his callused hands rubbing away every bad feeling Steve’s ever had. He tilts his head, sliding his tongue along Eddie’s, and Eddie’s hands tighten, squeezing his thighs.

He slowly shifts onto his knees too, moving up so they’re face to face, and he hugs Steve’s waist, pulling him against himself. Steve groans softly, stifling it, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck again before he slides his hands over his shoulders.

And they can’t keep their hands off each other, palms and fingers sliding and pressing and touching. Eddie’s hand pushes into Steve’s hair, tugging sharply as he sucks on his lip, as his other hand slides across his back, gentle on his scars, and then he’s running his hands over Steve’s waist and chest and reaching down to his thighs, murmuring beautiful into Steve’s mouth, and Steve believes him.

They kiss until Steve’s mouth is sore, until his legs are tired from kneeling like this, until his chin is wet again, and Eddie is smiling against his mouth, still fucking talking, still telling Steve how proud he is, how good Steve was.

He kisses Steve’s neck, and Steve’s head falls back.

“God, baby,” Eddie breathes, panting as he kisses his neck again, and his tongue slips over Steve’s skin. “You’re so fucking good, shit.”

“Eddie,” Steve chokes, pushing his hand into his hair and pulling. “I need— Fuck, I need you, baby, Eddie, please, I—”

Eddie lowers so he’s kneeling, and he pulls at Steve’s thighs again, pulling him so he’s straddling his hips. Steve wraps his arms around him, letting out a sharp breath as he lowers, as Eddie licks a line up his neck. Eddie’s hand runs over Steve’s stomach until it reaches his sweatpants, and he touches him over them, gently pressing against his dick. Steve chokes, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, his other hand running up his back and holding the base of his skull. Steve nods. “Baby, I need words, please.”

“Yes,” Steve gasps. “‘S okay, it’s so okay, please, just… I need you .”

Eddie does it again, pressing and squeezing, and Steve is so hard it almost hurts, but Eddie is so tender with him, rubbing his back as Steve clings to him. They’re both breathing hard, and Steve is biting his lip to stay quiet, but it’s hard when Eddie whispers.

“Can I take it out?”

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. “Yeah. Please.”

He holds his breath.

Eddie’s hands are warm. And gentle. Eddie pulls away just enough to glance down to look, carefully tucking Steve’s sweatpants out of the way, and he’s smiling. Steve tugs at his hair, making him tilt his head back so he can kiss him so hard their teeth clash. Eddie is still smiling, his hand moving slowly, carefully.

When they part, Steve is gasping for breath, eyes squeezed shut so hard he might get a headache, and Eddie notices, reaching up and rubbing the spot between his eyebrows with his thumb.

“Breathe for me,” Eddie whispers. Steve exhales slowly, looking at him, watching as he nods, and lowers his head. A moment later, he’s letting a line of spit drip out of his mouth to Steve’s dick and Steve groans quietly, pulling him back into a hug as Eddie slides his hand to spread it. Eddie’s other hand presses to Steve’s back securely, holding him close.

“Do you like it?” he asks softly.

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve says, and he doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s so high-pitched, weak and shaky and breathless and so vulnerable he wants to hate it, but he also doesn’t care, because Eddie is holding him like this, touching him and letting him tremble. “I like it, I like it so much, Eddie.”

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs.

And fuck.

Eddie moves his hand slowly, and after a moment he shifts so he’s sitting, and they’re back to how they were before, their legs wrapped around each other. Steve keeps his arms around his neck, hiding his face. Eddie slides his other hand into his hair.

“You want me to pull?”

“God, yes,” Steve chokes. “Please.”

And Eddie definitely noticed how it made him feel just a moment ago, because—

“Good boy.”

Steve can hear his smile.

His hand tightens, his fist squeezing in it, and it’s a slow, dull ache that grows on Steve’s scalp. He stifles a groan, pressing his lips together.

“Stop doing that,” Eddie says breathlessly, his hand loosening, and Steve exhales with relief, his mouth falling open. A moment later he processes Eddie’s words, and he hums in confusion.

“Keeping yourself quiet,” Eddie says. “Stop, I wanna hear you.”

Steve blinks his eyes open, his eyes blearily finding the Slayer poster above Eddie’s bed. His vision is blurry, and he feels like he’s cross-faded, out of his damn mind with the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him.

“You don’t want me to be quiet,” he mumbles absently. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud.

“No,” Eddie says softly, twisting his hand. Steve’es eyes close again. “I don’t want you to be quiet. Let me hear you, baby.” He moves his hand a little faster, tightening his fist, and Steve lets out a whine, burying his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Louder,” Eddie says, moving his hand faster, his other hand tugging Steve’s hair sharply.

“Fuck,” Steve gasps before he moans weakly.

“Louder,” Eddie whispers, his hand tightening in his hair. Steve lets out a sob.

“Eddie.”

“There you go,” Eddie whispers, tilting his head to kiss his jaw, and it sounds almost condescending, but it wraps around Steve like a blanket. “Good boy. You don’t have to be quiet, baby.”

So he isn’t.

His mouth stays open, panting against Eddie’s neck and shoulder, letting out soft moans and whines and whimpers and Eddie’s name as Eddie pulls at his hair again, his other hand jerking Steve off, alternating between rapid and fast and slow and tender, squeezing and tugging and drawing it out.

“I love how you sound,” Eddie murmurs after Steve lets out a sob. “So fucking pretty, baby, God.”

“Eddie,” Steve whimpers.

“I got you, honey, ’s okay.” He scratches Steve’s scalp, pulling his hair.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Eddie lets out a soft noise, and he pulls at Steve’s hair sharply, tugging him away from where he’s resting his head, and he kisses him. Steve kisses back after a moment, almost lightheaded, and he clutches at him, at his hair, his arm.

“I love you too, baby,” Eddie pants when they part, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

Steve lets out a long groan, squeezing Eddie’s wrist.

“Eddie, I—”

“You can come,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s okay.”

He kisses Steve’s cheek, murmuring as Steve buries his face in his neck again, moaning as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, and Steve is crying into his neck, sobbing as his body floods with heat, as he comes.

“There you go, baby,” Eddie whispers, fingers still working, jerking Steve until he finally slows down. “Did so good, Stevie.”

“Fuck.”

Eddie’s hand finally stops, and he lets go, his other hand running through Steve’s hair comfortingly as Steve catches his breath. He tucks Steve back in his sweatpants carefully, patting his crotch when he’s done, and Steve snorts.

“You okay?” Eddie asks softly when Steve is breathing slowly. Steve hums. “That good, huh?”

“Mm. No one’s ever wanted to hear me before.”

“No?” Eddie says, running his hand over Steve’s back, tracing his spine. “But you sound so good.”

“Hm. I don’t know,” Steve mumbles. “One girl commented that I was noisy and it just… made me self-conscious, I guess.”

Eddie hums softly, sliding his hand up to hold the back of his neck, and it feels protective, possessive, and Steve could die happy here.

“I like hearing you,” Eddie says. “Don’t ever want you to be quiet.”

“Okay.” He takes a breath, nuzzling into Eddie’s neck before he kisses him gently under his jaw. “Can I get you off?”

“Mm. Yeah. ‘S not gonna take much, though, I almost came just listening to you.”

Steve giggles, lifting his head and reaching for the hem of Eddie’s sweatpants as their eyes meet. He pushes his hand under them, watching Eddie’s expression shift, watching his eyes flutter shut and his lips part, watching his shoulders slump. He’s still holding the back of Steve’s neck, and his hand tightens.

“Can I take it out?” Steve whispers.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie breathes. “Go ‘head.”

Steve does, licking his lips, and Eddie pulls him in to rest their foreheads together. Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and spits on his palm before reaching down again, touching him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, laughing lightly. “Fuck.”

“You always this easy?” Steve asks softly, whispering. Eddie hums.

“Only when I have the… hottest boy in the world touching my dick.”

Steve giggles, sliding his hand up and down slowly, listening to Eddie breathing heavily. He’s having fun. He’s never had fun like this during sex. It’s always felt like something to just do, to get done, to make his partner feel good. But even as he focuses on Eddie, he can’t stop smiling, watching his own hand on Eddie’s dick, listening to the soft moans and hums Eddie lets out. Eddie’s other hand finds Steve’s thigh and squeezes tightly, gripping so hard Steve wonders if he’ll leave bruises under his fingertips. He kind of hopes he does.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps after a while. “I’m gonna come.”

Steve kisses him. Messily, desperately.

“Come for me.”

Eddie grunts, his hand slipping to hold the base of Steve’s head, and he pants, breathing hard against Steve’s cheek as Steve watches, almost mesmerized by the come dripping over his fingers, his knuckles.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes as Eddie comes down, his grip on Steve’s leg and head relaxing. “You’re so…”

Eddie hums softly.

“So…”

“I don’t know,” Steve says quietly, pulling his hand away as Eddie softens, and he tucks him back into his sweatpants, imitating him with the gentle pat. Eddie laughs. He has a beautiful laugh.

“I’ve heard I’m a lot,” Eddie says.

“You are,” Steve says, looking into his eyes. He smiles, and Eddie tilts his head curiously. “In a good way,” he adds. “I like it.”

Eddie smiles bashfully, his cheeks pink, and Steve nudges their noses together, closing his eyes.

“...Are you gonna talk about it?” Eddie says after a few moments. Steve exhales, swallowing.

His hands are in his lap, and he looks at them, at the come on his hand.

“...I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Eddie touches Steve’s chin, gently prompting him to lift his head. He’s smiling when Steve looks at him, and he leans in to kiss him softly, chastely. Familiarly.

“Cool,” he says, his lips brushing Steve’s. “Same.”

And Steve laughs.

Eddie kisses him again, smiling against Steve’s smile, and Steve wraps his arms around his neck, keeping his dirty hand in the air as his other hand pushes into Eddie’s curls. Eddie’s hands slide across Steve’s back.

Steve pulls away.

“You are getting come all over my back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eddie says sarcastically, and Steve snorts. “What do you think about a shower to clean you up?”

“Ah, that was your master plan, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, my goal was to get you naked by getting you mostly naked.”

“Pure genius, Eddie.”

“I know…”

Steve follows him to the bathroom after they get clothes. (Eddie just gives him more of his own)

It feels nice when Eddie washes his hair. Even though he forms it into a mohawk with the soap. He’s grinning as he does it, his eyes sparkling, amused, and Steve lets him. It also feels nice when Eddie washes his body, which he does without saying anything, scrubbing him gently, tenderly, washing the soap away with the showerhead and pressing kisses to his wet skin. Steve does the same to him. It feels nice to do this, to help him even though he doesn’t really need it.

Steve kneels to do his legs, and as he does, he kisses his scars. Eddie holds a hand out, blocking the water from hitting Steve’s face. And Steve somehow falls in love all over again.

The tile wall is cold as Eddie pushes him against it to kiss him, but he doesn’t mind.

They separate to dry themselves off, and Steve stops him when he starts to scrub his hair dry with the towel. He scolds him lightly, pulling close and taking over, scrunching the ends and drying it gently, noting that he wants to get some product for him. Eddie just gazes at him silently, his hands on Steve’s hips.

“I love you,” he whispers when Steve hangs the towels.

Steve hugs him, and Eddie hugs him so tightly that he lifts him up a little bit, his toes touching the ground.

“I love you too.”

Over his shoulder, Steve can see them in the reflection of the mirror. It’s fogged over from the shower steam, but he can see the shape of them, their dark clothing in the bright light of the bathroom, and Steve sighs.

They go back to bed, arms around each other as they find their places again, Steve’s back to Eddie’s chest. Eddie kisses his neck. Steve closes his eyes.

“So what do you say about forever?” Eddie asks quietly as Steve is starting to drift off. He hums, turning to tuck his face into Eddie’s neck, and Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, holding him gently.

“Forever sounds nice.”

if you like my work maybe consider supporting me on ko-fi or looking into my commissions <3

#say it with me #This Is So Much Longer Than I Expected It To Be #oh well #steddie #steddie one shot #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

996 notes · View notes