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ribbonskiss · 4 months ago

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THE LEANOVER → OP81

Part 2 of 2. Read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: You come home on uni break to find your brother’s best friend, Oscar, is visiting. You both fall back into old habits, but some things are not the same.

Tags: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, slow burn, SMUT (18+), masturbation, Jack Doohan is from Melbourne in this one for logistical reasons, not proofread at all hah

A/N: finally!!! The end of The Leanover!!!! Sorry for the extended deadline, this one turned out chunkier than I expected and honestly I don’t know if I’m quite satisfied with it but it is what it is. Anyway, enjoy!

Oscar is a handsome boy. This is a fact you find to be so uncontroversial it may as well be accepted as a universal truth. There has never been a time where girls did not whisper amongst themselves when he would enter a room, where the mothers of his friends would not rave with great emphasis to his about how strong and handsome he’d become, where his presence at a function did not brighten up the place, because not only is he handsome, he is beautiful. Beautiful people are magnetic, you think; their beauty lies in their nature, their fundamental quality of supernatural grace, a gift bestowed by the forces that be towards the lucky few.

You recall his last year of high school. You were sixteen, still growing into your body and learning how to use a felt-tip eyeliner pen. Teenagers are fascistic about social hierarchy; they are greatly cognisant of their standings in the high school pecking order, intensely anal about preserving the rigidity of the structure, and thus you had long accepted your status as the forgotten sibling. Oscar and your brother were athletes, students with clout attached to their names; you were awkward, unaware of your own intensity, intimidating to a fault, but more than happy to lay low. Two individuals of such different standings in the social order should never interact—but for the first (and only) time you were now going to the same house parties and birthday bashes, and here was the greatest display of Oscar’s beauty. You can never forget that image: the figure of him standing on the other side of the room, so broad-shouldered and trim, freckles of sun damage littered over his skin all the way down his neck like constellations, his head turned away from you to reveal his chiselled jaw as he speaks to someone while holding a can of Reschs. And suddenly his eyes would meet yours, catching you in the act, and he’d give you a gentle smile.

You were always so grateful for this. So grateful he would look your way and beam so brightly, a glimpse of his inner calmness, his quiet gentle bliss. You were never under the impression you were the only one to be so blessed by his grace; you were just happy to be around him. Sometimes when he would come over, sprawl himself over your couch or lay on the floor, pissing himself laughing at your brother’s antics into the late hours of the night, you’d ask yourself whether you should feel guilty for being the only witness to this part of his life. This secret of his: that Oscar is so much more beautiful than most people will ever know. Not his fans, not his colleagues, not the majority of the world. This is between you and him.

And now you have him all to yourself. A bit greedy, isn’t it? The past week you’ve spent together has been nothing short of lovely. You find out that he’s strangely disciplined. Oscar’s a dutiful housemate, doing the chores you even forget about without the need to be prompted, unlike most guys his age. He likes to hum to himself when he’s got the vacuum going and he thinks you can’t hear him butcher the tune of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel. He’s a good cook who prefers careful measurement over eyeballing. He doesn’t read books like you do, but he’s happy to lie on the couch all day and watch a show with you on the telly. And he’s surprisingly touchy—he seems most pleased when you’re both on the couch, your legs crossed and stretched out, resting on top of his, his hand on your foot, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You don’t speak during these moments. Nothing needs to be said; things just sort themselves out.

At some point in the afternoon you get tired, yawning to yourself, and without even needing to look at you Oscar reaches over, tugs at your arm to tell you wordlessly to turn around. You oblige; your head against his chest, his fingers trail up your forearm to your shoulders and, eventually, the back of your neck, smoothing over the soft, fine hairs that reside there. You’re too tired to mind the goosebumps the feeling of his fingertips on your skin gives you, or the increasing thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat underneath you. You shift in his arms, folding your legs up in a way that makes the hem of your shorts ride up, exposing the curve of your thighs all the way up towards the swell of your—well… It would be so uncouth for him to look there.

It never occurs to either of you that the hardest part of the process is done. The feeling returns: the feeling that arises in you when he looked at you from across the room at those parties all those years ago. The feeling of knowing that person so incredibly well. Of sharing a secret together, and letting that secret grow bigger and bigger until it takes on a life of its own. Of sharing that life together. These things do just sort themselves out, but you would never know until you speak of it.

You are growing increasingly needy. There’s no other way to put it. You’re fucking dying. The heat of the dry, punishing Australian summer is starting to get to you, even with how skimpy your attire has gotten, and having him around twenty-four seven is starting to feel more like divine punishment than intervention. You were wrong all along: Oscar is not an angel, but a demon sent to terrorise you all your life until you give in and the Devil can steal your soul for all of eternity.

He works out every other day. That’s at least three days where he’ll disappear into another room in the afternoon for hours, slips right out just to slip into the bathroom, and then waltz back into the living room as if nothing has happened. But something has happened.

Oscar has a very basic wardrobe at home. He likes his soft, mild colours—dark greys and soft whites, beige tones, navy and olives… It’s very on brand for him, yes. And here he is again, today, emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him out the door as he runs a hand through his slightly damp hair. He’s wearing a crisp heather grey t-shirt, fresh from the pile of laundry you’d folded yesterday. The sleeves can barely withstand the size of his biceps; he’s just gotten new dumbbells in. And god, the smell of his skin, the musk of him mixed with the soft clean scent of soap still radiating off of him. It’s like crisp hot white bedsheets, fresh out the dryer, already crumpling under the weight of two lovers, bodies sticky from tangling into each other; like soft detergent left out in the garden, where the grass is freshly cut, and the warm sun hits your skin.

This is as close to a primal urge as it will ever get for you. The first few times you could just tell yourself to look away, but now the smell of him is unavoidable, overwhelms your senses, and lights your entire body on fire. You stick your nose into your book the entire time and pray he goes away. Oscar retreats into the kitchen and wonders if your book is really so good that you’d be that engrossed by it. He’ll have to start reading again soon.

“The worst thing a woman can do,” you say, hand in the air with great feeling, “is be cut down in her prime by a man.”

Three beers in and you’re starting up your great tirade already. Oscar watches with an amused smile as he sits on the grass, green Peroni bottle in hand. “I know it sounds so pathetic and untrue, but it is true,” you continue, pacing back and forth with a giggle. “It’s true! I’m so much better off now. No offence, Osc, you’re one of the good ones.”

“I’m very flattered.”

“You should be,” you nod.

He reaches over and grabs a fresh beer from the esky, flicks the cap off with the belt he’s taken off, and hands it to you. You thank him; “just trying to stay in your good graces, missy,” he chuckles.

You sigh, taking a swig of it as you look up to the sky. “Frankly, I’m glad that part of my life is over already,” you say. “I’m not happy to admit it, but for a long time, I had just thought of myself as undesirable. Invisible.”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows with great concern, an ocean tide of emotion threatening to wash over him. “Impossible.”

“Possible,” you nod, with a bitter smile that’s less regretful than accepting of your past. “You know. Surely you remember.”

Of course he does. He remembers every little thing, because they’re not little to him. He remembers it all, how he’d scare off sleazy, drunken boys from approaching you at parties. Even after he graduated, the threat remained: you mess with her, you mess with Oscar Piastri, the F1 big shot. Boys never looked your way because of that; he used to hold you by the end of the party, sitting on the porch of whatever house you’re at, you latching onto him in your drunken half-slumber, both of you silently wallowing in your desires. Drowning, suffocating in each other’s warmth. Then he’d stay over at your house and wait until your brother fell asleep to press his ear against the wall, listening to your muffled sobbing. You were always too eager to suffer alone, to make a martyr of yourself and accept the cards you had been dealt.

But you stand tall now, a soft smile on your face suggesting a great deal of growth. It’s what he’s always found so beautiful in you. Beauty, he thinks, lies in the spirit, an ability to have infinite love and bliss in the face of the frustrations of one’s life. You are a complete soul, whole in ways he may never be, capable of learning to love over and over again and of light-heartedness in the face of turmoil. He knows he cannot truly achieve this because you are his Achilles’ heal. He cannot bear to think of you off on your own without him, doing things with other slimy ratty boys, going places he may never know of. Having a life without him in it. Oscar frowns; had he been too selfish in denying you all your opportunities? You had graduated high school without losing your virginity, without ever being in a relationship, and he wasn’t sure your first kiss would even count as a kiss. He can’t imagine how much that must’ve crushed you—and he was away, far away on his stupid little racing circuits instead of being at home, comforting you, as he should’ve been.

You wave it all off, as if you could hear his thoughts. “Well, I’ve done all of it now anyway, and I’m happy to report that it’s not for me.”

He cocks up an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘it,’ Tiny?”

“The hookup thing,” you shrug.

Oscar’s chest feels like it could explode; cold flashes wash all over him. “Oh?”

You playfully shush him. “Don’t tell my family, okay?” you chuckle. “But, yes. I tried it. It was good, until it wasn’t. Very quickly I realised I’m kinda, like, spiritually forty. I need to stretch in the mornings and tuck in by eleven.”

“And kick-ons aren’t until at least one,” he tuts. “You’re always been a sleepy girl.”

“That is true,” you nod, taking another sip of your Peroni. “Anyway, it was worth it, at the very least just to get it all out of my system. I’m very comfortably single now.”

The sky is darker than it should be. The sun has already tucked itself away, and it’s not even evening time yet. “You know, it’s so cliché,” you continue. “That Sally Rooney quote, it’s just like that. I went to uni and got pretty. And all of a sudden men saw me—I mean, I was pretty much invisible before. Before in school, when you and my brother were still around, guys used to do this stupid, horrible thing where they wouldn’t speak to me, they’d just speak to you instead. Even when the topic was about me. Well, no one knows I grew up with Oscar Piastri when I’m at ANU. I’m just me, and I’ve got a nice haircut and a decent rack of tits. And they see me, they see me now and I realise now that they’re all just sort of stupid. I’m very sorry, Oscar, but boys are stupid.”

“No need to apologise,” he snickers softly. It makes you smile a little wider. “But surely they were not all so bad?”

“No, I really don’t know how to pick ‘em. They really were all that bad,” you chuckle, eyes creasing as your cheeks push up in laughter. “Think the best one might’ve been the guy I lost my virginity to.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He hums, pretends to be normal about it. “Tell me more,” he says.

You nod and oblige. “It was early in the school year. I went on four dates with him,” you start. “He seemed right on paper. Double major, worked for a diplomat, spoke two languages and was well-travelled. Maybe a bit pedestrian in his taste in music and films, but it didn’t bother me so much. We talked okay. He knew what to do, how to be courteous, held doors open and shit—I didn’t know what the whole dating thing was meant to be like, and I was easily impressed. He took me back to his after the fourth date and we listened to his vinyls: corny 70s Greatest Hit compilations and his favourite Kanye albums.”

You take a break, pulling out a thing of lip balm and unscrewing the cap before squeezing it out. “He told me he used to take ballroom lessons for some weird high school thing he did, and he twirled me in his arms, and it made me feel so light and small and girlish that I felt like I was floating.” Your finger spreads the balm over your lips, the feeling cool and tingly on your skin. “He told me I was funny. He kissed me, and his stubble was so sharp and gritty against my skin that it gave me traction acne the day after. He held my hand the whole time. He was an awful kisser. Just kept jamming his tongue in. But it was sweet enough. No one’s first time is good, anyway.”

Oscar tries to swallows down the lump stuck in his throat. His fingers and toes are tingling, chest tight and contracting still. You take another swig. “I’ve had too many of these,” you say.

“You’ve had three, Tiny.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” you shrug, yawning as you set the bottle down on the wooden table outside in your garden. “I think I’d better fuck off to bed now. Sleep tight, Osc.”

He doesn’t sleep in your brother’s bed that night. No, he takes out the spare mattress again and drapes the spare velvet blanket over himself, because he could never forgive himself if he jerked off in his best friend’s bed to the thought of his best friend’s sister. No, there would be no good excuse for that, but tonight is one of those nights where a man simply cannot hold himself back anymore. The alcohol is still burning in his stomach; when Oscar shuts his eyes, all he can see is these elaborate images crafted by his mind’s eye of you, placed in all the scenarios you’d described to him, only replacing that dirty fucker was him, being so gentle and delicate and loving, just how you deserve it. It should have been him there instead to do it all right; it is true that losing one’s virginity is often an awkward affair, his own experience was no less lousy, but if anyone were to have a perfect instance of it it should be you. Oscar can see it all now, how he’d go about it. Holding onto your soft curves as he pushes himself in slowly, the little gasps that would escape your honey-sweet mouth, so warm and wet on his lips. He would die happy, he thinks to himself, as his hand roughly palms his length, hair dampening from sweat in the blistering summer night heat. Cicadas sing outside his window; he heaves wildly, chest rising and falling dramatically as his hand gets slicker with each stroke. He had no idea he could even leak that much.

Thank god you’re sound asleep. He grips tightly onto the soft blanket, balling it in his fist as his eyes shut again tightly, the guttural noise he lets out much louder than he intended. Then Oscar collapses; his limbs go slack, heart beating out of his chest still as he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, hand now sticky with his spent. The mattress is damp with his sweat. If he wasn’t before, he’s royally fucked now.

Your parents called; they’ll be home on Christmas Eve, but only in the afternoon, and they’re picking your brother up as well. Which means the two of you have some shopping to do; the house should be looking festive in time for their arrival. Oscar pushes the shopping cart, following you deep into the maze that is Kmart. He helps you haul the Christmas tree box in and out of his car. And he watches as you pull its branches down, giving it shape before littering it with baubles and tinsel. And when it comes time to finish the tree, you look him with bright eyes. He smiled at you, takes the Angel Gabriel out of your hands and places it on top of the tree carefully. You put on your silly little Santa hats and poorly bake gingerbread men.

You never end up throwing the rager Oscar jokingly suggested, but you do hold a small get-together after running into some old schoolmates at the shops. So it turns out that a few girls you used to do drama class with are in town, and of course anyone Oscar invites is going to show up—he’s Oscar fucking Piastri—so here you are, with a decent turnout of people currently congregated in the back garden and the living room. You’re thankful enough of them showed up on such short notice, with Christmas Eve only a few days away, and you’re thankful everyone seems to have gotten more civil and mature since you’ve left school.

The doorbell rings more than once, and you peel yourself off of the couch to go answer it, Balter tinnie in hand now that you’re all out of Peronis. Your eyes widen once you fling the door open, revealing a familiar face, standing with a smile on his face and a couple guys behind him.

“Surprise,” Jack chuckles.

“Doohan in the flesh,” you quip with a smile. “You cheeky boy. Since when were you in town?”

“Since yesterday,” he shrugs, and the guys behind him file past you into the house at the sight of some of their mates. “Heard you were throwing a thing with Big Shot Oscar. Hope you don’t mind that I’m crashing—I come bearing gifts.”

You shake your head. “Of course not, no, I’m glad to see you,” you say, though you sigh at the sight of the twelve-pack he’s got in his hands. “Mate, Strong Zero? It’s not that kind of party.”

“Some of us can handle our liquor,” Jack laughs, putting the pack in your arms before smoothing his hair back. “Don’t spoil the fun for the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes, turning your back to him as you walk down the hallway back to the kitchen. “Congratulations, by the way,” I say. “I’m glad to see two of our finest graduates succeeding.”

“I can tell. You’re beaming, clearly,” he jokes, following you in. “It was never in doubt for Oscar, anyway, so I think I deserve a bigger congratulations for making it, no?”

You peel apart the drink packaging, the tins of drink coming loose on the kitchen counter. “Let me get this straight: you want me to be more proud of you for being a worse driver than Oscar?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m just repeating your words, Jack-Jack.”

“Never said I was a worse driver,” he snickers, shaking his head as he folds his arms over his chest. “You snuck that in yourself. But I always knew you were biased, so I won’t take offence to that, Tiny.”

You turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. Dramatically, he throws his hands up in a display of surrender, but your conversation is cut short.

“Well, well, well,” Oscar grins, strolling into the kitchen and approaching Jack with wide arms. “Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver.”

“Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver,” Doohan beams, dapping Oscar up before pulling him into a hug. “How you been, mate, good?”

“Nah, yeah,” Oscar chuckles, glancing back to you with a smile. “It’s been a splendid break for me. You been good? Didn’t realise you were back.”

“Yeah, just landed yesterday,” Jack nods, a hand on the back of his neck. “Heard you two were doing a thing, thought I’d be jet lagged out of my mind but nah. Wouldn’t miss this.”

You notice Jack’s a little taller than Oscar, who’s having to tilt his head up a little. “Appreciate you showing up, mate,” the older one says. “I’m gonna go catch up with some of your mates, but stick around, yeah?”

“Absolutely, man,” the younger one says with a smile. “Good seeing you again.”

Then Oscar leaves, fingers gliding over the skin of your cheek in passing, a gentle action of tenderness, as if to say goodbye wordlessly. Doohan wiggles his eyebrows. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” you exclaim, eyes avoiding his gaze as you snatch a Strong Zero for yourself.

“That,” he presses on, finger extended now to point to where Oscar had put his hand on your cheek. “The little hand-cheek-look thing. The fuck? Do you have something to tell me, pal?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please mate, just be normal—”

“Don’t gaslight me,” Jack says, as stern as he can be.

“He’s been living in my home!” you gasp. “Of course we’re a little close!”

“Living in your home—”

“Not by choice,” you roll your eyes. “Just—my family’s all out of town right now. He’s kind of all I have at the moment.”

“Agh!” Jack groans, smacking himself on the forehead. “Genius move. Fuck, I should’ve locked you two in a room myself years ago—”

You put the tin back onto the counter and slowly turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

He frowns. “Oh, man,” he pouts. “You don’t mean to tell me you two are still doing the thing?”

“What thing?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“You know, the thing,” he says, eyes innocent and wide as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The weird game you two play. I thought you guys would have gotten over it already.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, making you stammer and go red in the face as your confusion worsens. Jack notices this. “What, you really don’t know?”

“No, Jack, I do not,” you manage to breathe out. “Please, enlighten me.”

He shakes his head, lets out a strange chuckle as he leans back against the wall, having taken a tinnie off the counter. “This would be funny if it weren’t so tragic,” he starts, grimacing. “Oscar used to push guys on the soccer team around for talking about you. He’d go silent whenever you were around and get clammy in the hands. He got weird whenever he’d even hear your name. And I’m sure I don’t have to list out your incriminating actions.”

Needless to say you’re taken aback by this. Eyes wide and blank, you look at him with shock as your mind oscillates between delight and horror, hand resting on your chest as if your heart needs the help. Jack sighs, and after a moment of tense silence he speaks again. “I take it that’s enough proof for you.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“We thought you knew,” he shrugs. “And it wouldn’t have been my place to meddle, and also, it was kind of amusing to watch.”

You scoff bitterly. “Amusing.”

“Well, not so much now,” Doohan nods.

Silence fills the kitchen again, the chatter outside quiet against the deafening quietness inside. “You do like him, don’t you?” he asks earnestly.

You don’t answer, but all he has to do is look at your solemn face and see the emotions threatening to spill out of you. He comes closer, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Just take your time, mate.”

You nod, but you hear Oscar’s distinct timbre in the distance, speaking rapidly to someone. You turn your head and see him standing in the living room near the couch, and then—like magnets—he seems to feel your eyes raking over his figure, and meets your gaze as his head turns a little. Suddenly you’re sixteen again. He’s smiling at you like he used to, so fondly and sweetly, all the way from another room. Everything has changed but this feeling is the same. Oscar nods his head gently, as if to tell you ‘I’m doing okay over here, and I hope you are too,’ and you realise he’s dropped out of his conversation now just to look at you. He has always done this.

The hard part is over, but you didn’t know until it was spoken of.

You sweep the crushed cans off the table and into the garbage bag, back starting to hurt from all the cleanup you’ve had to do. Thank the lord they all left early; you haven’t been able to enjoy yourself fully since that talk with Doohan. Since then his words have just been eating away at you the whole night, but you can speak to Oscar just fine, you think. You’re trying your best, at least.

“Jesus, have the lights always been this bright?” he says, and by the way he’s stumbling onto the couch and slurring his words a little, he’s probably more tipsy than he’d like to admit.

You shake your head, turning around to face him. The cans inside the bag you’re holding clank against one another. “Fun night?”

“Not particularly,” he says, eyes shutting as he throws an arm over his face, lying down flat on the couch. “Just, those fucking Strong Zeroes, man.”

“I told Doohan he shouldn’t have!”

“He really shouldn’t have.” Oscar groans, eyes shutting tighter as he tries to push his face into the couch, and you chuckle before going back to cleaning up, moving towards the pile of cans on the kitchen island.

“Don’t leave,” you hear him say behind you.

You turn around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?” you say. “I’m not. I’m just going into the kitch—”

“No,” he whines quietly, muffled by the fabric of the couch. “That’s too far. Stay.”

You stand still, still holding the bag in your hand, visibly confused.

“We should always be in the same room,” he continues. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

You flush at his words. You’re not sure if he quite grasps the implications of what he’s saying, but you chalk it all up to his current state—surely he’s just a clingy drunk. You put the garbage bag down against the wall, approaching the couch as he pulls his legs back to make room for you.

You sit down. “Are you feeling alright, Osc?”

“No,” he replies, too quickly for your liking. Oscar shuffles back onto his back, eyes still shut as his tone is reduced to grumbling. “I had this really awful thought the other day that we’re so far apart. I’m off doing my races and now you’re off at uni doing whatever.”

You cock your head to the side, clearly about to protest, but he starts up again. “I just want to know what you’re doing all the time,” he admits. “And how you’re feeling. I miss you all the time, and I wanna know you’re okay.”

“Oscar,” you frown, putting a hand on his arm tenderly. “If you want to stay in touch more, of course we can—”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay in touch. I wanna be with you.”

You pull your arm back. He winces, missing your touch. “Tiny, this must sound so crazy.”

“No,” you assure him, though you’re struggling to comprehend his words. “I just don’t know what you me—”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your blood runs cold even as your stomach shatters and explodes into a million butterflies that feel hot like lava inside of your body. “I know it must sound so crazy,” Oscar chuckles bitterly. “I know it must be so crazy…”

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think it’s crazy. I just, I wonder how you’ll feel in the morning.”

“It’s not the alcohol.”

He opens his eyes only to look at you, pupils darting around slowly to find you, the only soothing sight when the lights are still killing him. Oscar smiles a little at your familiar face. “I spoke to Doohan,” he explains.

“Ah,” you mumble, flushing. Of course he did.

He pauses a bit, tries to find the courage to speak again. He finds it in how your eyes seem to shine a little brighter where you’re sitting, mesmerised by how beautiful you are tonight. “He’s right, you know. I feel a bit silly, or stupid rather, like I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Well,” you chuckle timidly, looking down at your hands. “I would have some explaining to do myself, too.”

Oscar smiles to himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath; he didn’t even realise he’d been holding it in this whole time. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that.”

At his words, you look up to meet his eyes again, to see how he’s smiling now, and it makes your chest expand with warmth, heart pumping fast. “I’ll feel the same in the morning,” he says, sitting up clumsily now just to look at your face better. He doesn’t want to look away ever again. “I promise you that. I’ve felt this way since forever—I just didn’t know the word for it yet.”

Your eyes widen just a little more at his words; you don’t recognise the inexplicable feeling that’s captured your body, but you think this is what he means. The thing he didn’t know the word for. But you know the word for it now.

“I think I love you too,” you say.

Oscar lets out a quiet noise of relief. He finds your hand in your lap, takes it in his, and just holds it. You look at each other for a long while, taking in the details of one another’s faces. “You don’t look a day over seven,” you chuckle, and it makes him grin softly.

“That’s alright. Did you feel then how you feel about me now?” he asks.

“I think you sealed the deal when you helped me get up on my feet after falling off the slide,” you quip with a smile, and he squeezes your hand a little approvingly.

“You remember that.”

“The little things aren’t little to me, either,” you say, and his heart soars at your words. Oscar can’t resist it anymore; he tugs on your hand a little and pulls you into his arms, hands latching onto your waist as he holds you tightly. You fall into each other like magnets. It just feels right, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but nothing in this world is truly given this way. You had been working for it your entire life, but you’re only knowing this now.

His lips hover over your cheek, and it makes you shiver, but it shouldn’t be like this. “I don’t want our first kiss to be when you’re drunk,” you tell him, pulling away from his flushed face. “It’s… You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. It just has to be right.”

Oscar swallows dryly, but he nods. “You’re right,” he says, with a gentle smile that tells you he’s being sincere. “You’re right. Not like this.”

He pulls you in again, holding you even tighter this time. You feel his heart beating out of his chest against yours, his warm breath against your skin, the warm his arms keep contracting as if he’s afraid to let you go. A warm waft of air filters through the window, left ajar, and swirls around the two of you, bodies now entangled. Neither of you can find a reason to leave, so you don’t. You never end up cleaning the kitchen that night.

The sun’s starting to filter through your blinds now, and you know you have no excuse to stay in bed anymore, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up. Your brother’s bedroom is probably collecting dust already; ever since that night, Oscar’s been sleeping in your bed now, and you both sleep so much better with a cuddle buddy by your side. He likes to be big spoon, but he’s happy to hold you face to face as well, duh! Why would he upset with getting to see your face, eyes shut so peacefully in slumber? He likes to wake up before you because of this, just so he can catch a glimpse of you so soft and pliable in his arms, comfortably happily asleep, but today you’re the one who wakes up first, stirred awake by the birds chirping outside your window.

You try to slip out of his grasp, but he just tightens his arms around you, furrowing his eyebrows in his sleep. You try again and he does it again, this time with a grumbling noise that makes you chuckle.

“Oscar,” you smile, press a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “They come home today.”

“So?” he grumbles back, eyes still shut as he pulls you in, tucking your head under his chin. “What’s it got to do with us?”

“We’ve got to make them brekky, babe,” you chuckle. You press a kiss to his neck now, before deciding you can’t really resist littering them all over his skin. “They’ll be starving by the time they get here.”

Oscar makes a strange, hushed noise. “Well, doing that certainly won’t get me out of bed.”

You’re confused, but then you realise something’s been pressing up against your thigh, worsened by how he keeps pulling you back into his arms. “Oh my god, Osc,” you yelp. “Just from a few kisses?”

“And maybe a very good dream,” he mumbles back. If he were awake, he’d surely be laughing, pleased with himself.

“You dirty, dirty pervert,” you snicker, but you’re tutting at him in a way that sends a tingle down his spine, and your fingers inching down the trail on his stomach is making him shiver. “You’re shameless.”

“Yeah, but something tells me you like it,” he says, but he can barely finish the sentence before you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, shimmying them down. His length springs free; your eyes beam a little too brightly at the sight of it, making him laugh.

“Someone’s eager.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been dreaming about riding you into the bed for actual years,” you chuckle, long fingers wrapping around him. “You look delicious in the morning, you know that? All sleepy and dishevelled. It’s very sexy, Osc.”

“Ah?” he says, a moan disguised as a word. Your hand starts to move and he can barely hold himself back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your mouth is hovering over his cock now, warm breath making him shiver before your tongue makes contact with his tip, swirling all around the head in a way that makes his eyes roll back. “Holy shit,” you hear him mutter to himself, and you smile as you drag your tongue all over the length of him.

“Babe, I love the teasing,” he breathes out. “But I don’t think I can quite take it this morning.”

You hum to yourself, biting back a cheeky smile as a thought pops up in your head. “You know, you’re right,” you say. “We’re running on a tight schedule. And we could use something that saves time, so… if you’re getting head, you could give it too, no?”

Oscar’s face lights up at your words. “You wanna sit on my face? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.”

“Fuckin’ hell, any day of the week, missy.”

With that, he puts his hands on your head and pulls you up for a kiss that deepens into a little more. His lips are soft, mouth hot and wet; you feel yourself dampen a little against the cotton of your panties, something he feels too as his hands travel all the way down to your ass, fingers reaching past the fabric of your shorts inside to find the wet patch growing at your cunt. Your fingers hook into the waistband of both layers, tugging them off eagerly as he steadies his hands on your hips again. You turn around, and now Oscar’s got your pussy hovering right over his face. He think he’s salivating at the sight of it. Is that too crude? Jesus christ, it’s just so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined, waking up with you by his side, having the girl of all of his dreams with him now, eating your pussy first thing in the morning.

“You’re not so tiny anymore, hey? You’re a big girl now.”

You flush at his words. “Just get to it, Piastri.”

He needs no further encouragement, hands on your hips pulling you down to his face, tongue flicking a long stripe all the way down your cunt. You cry out at the sudden contact, and you realise very soon that he is very good at what he is doing, soft wet tongue sliding between your folds carefully, lips wrapping gently around your sensitive clit, hands gripping onto the meat of your ass, an action that signifies a clinginess you’d never know from how soft-spoken he is. He eats you out like a hungry man, lapping up the wetness that soaked your panties before eagerly. When you wrap your lips around his cock, taking all of him in until he hits the back of your throat, it makes him groan against your pussy, and it feels so strangely good that you keep throating him just like that every once in a while, just to feel him shift underneath you and thrust into your mouth a little. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, and he is, but he just can’t resist it when you’re doing that.

“Fuck, babe,” Oscar gasps out, pulling away as his fingers continue to rub at your clit. “If you keep doing that thing, I won’t last very long.”

You can tell by his tone he’s slightly embarrassed about taking such little time to get there. “We’ll get there together, I promise,” you say. “Just—ah!—keep using your fingers.”

He smiles, happy to oblige. This time he dips a finger inside you, tongue now swirling around your clit as his finger curls, finding that cushiony spot inside you that makes your back arch a little. There it is. He slips another finger in, tongue flicking fast against you, fingers pumping at a steady pace as you suck his cock sloppily, drool pooling at the base, fingers still wrapped around his length, lazily moving up and down. It’s all too much for the both of you, both moaning and whimpering against one another as your bodies start to get more and more sensitive, responding to each motion with a little more volume. Your back arches, his hips thrust; you know you’re both getting to that climax.

“Babe, fuck—”

“I know,” you gasp, a long mewl drawing out of you as his fingers, soaked in your slick now, keep thrusting in and out of you. “I’m—hah—almost there, too.”

He nods his head eagerly and latches his wet mouth back onto you, eating you out desperately as his hips start to move on their own, filling your mouth and muffling your increasing cries of pleasure as your eyes shut and roll back.

“I can’t take it,” he moans loudly. “Babe, I—oh my god!”

Just as Oscar starts to flood your mouth, you collapse onto him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, body slack and limp. “Jesus,” you heave out, flipping onto your back off of him, swallowing all of his load down your throat. The sight of it makes him whimper. You take a good look at him; he’s got your slick all over his face, glistening from his lips down to his chin.

“Christ, I made a mess of you,” you chuckle, embarrassed, but he seems proud of himself.

“A souvenir, yeah?” He jokes, and you push his chest, rolling your eyes, but he pulls you into his arms. “God, that was fuckin’ amazing. You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

You pull the duvet back up over the both of you as you lie down once again, resting your head on his chest now as you look up at him with a smile. You wipe at his mouth with your hand. “There.”

“Aw,” he frowns playfully. “I quite liked it.”

“You fuckin’ pervert,” you say, going to push his chest again but he catches your arm with his hand.

“Don’t get feisty,” Oscar chuckles, shaking his head before pecking you on the forehead. “Let’s just lay here for a bit. And you know, I’ve been thinking.”

Your finger traces shapes on the freckled skin of his bare chest. “About what?”

“About you, coming to see me,” he says. “You know… I was thinking, maybe you could schedule your classes with me in my mind? You know, money’s not an issue. Transport, accommodation, passes, I can take care of all of that. I just need to know you can see me. Not for every race, obviously. But some of them. It’d mean so much to me, Tiny.”

You look up at him now, smiling. “Of course I can,” you nod gently. “It’d mean everything to me too, Osc.”

His face blooms into a smile, eyes raking over the details of your face, savouring it as if he hasn’t a million times before. “Then it’s done,” he says, bringing your hand up to kiss it. “You can’t escape me now.”

“Like I’d ever want to,” you roll your eyes.

Before Oscar can counter with a snarky remark, the door flies open.

“Piastri—seriously? My fucking sister?”

That’s the end! Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Leave em all in my askbox, and again, thank you so much for reading!

#oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 fanfic

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xetlynn · 3 months ago

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arcane imagines- silco

Uptown Girl

[main page] [arcane]

prompt: in which reader is from piltover and is over the rich, everyday loop-lifestyle. sneaking out and going to the undercity to where she finds the last drop. (Inspired by the song Uptown Girl by Billy Joel)

inspiration and idea made by: @s1lc0luvr

Sitting quietly at the dinner table, tapping your foot in a bored motion. Antsy for the food to be served while your parents sit across from you. Sneakily glancing at one another due to their daughter’s incredibly dark makeup. “What happened to your new makeup kit we bought, dear?” Your father was the first to speak up which surprised you as it had always been your mother to call out your rebelliousness.

“Hm? Oh, it was too light.” You answered, peering back into the kitchen, ready to scarf down the food and head right back up to your room. “That um- that was the point, sweetheart.” His voice was sharp even with the short stammer. “It washed me out, I’m going for a darker look now.”

You weren’t really giving him the time of day, curt and simple responses as your eyes wandered over everything. As if you hadn’t lived here your entire life. The same thing every night. Dinner with your parents at 5, sometimes 6 if they were caught up in their work. Normally it’s quiet except for the few questions about your grades in school- now university.

Forced to wear neat and tidy clothing, dressed as if you were going out somewhere instead of the comforts of your own home. No elbows on the table. Posture straight, head up. Head down and it was a thirty minute lecture. “Darker is a bit… bold even for you. [Name].” Uh oh. First name. You were in for it now.

“Boldness is intriguing, I’m intriguing.” You hum, your face told them how uninterested you were. “You can be intriguing without the devilish makeup.” Your mother spoke up this time and finally your eyes snap in her direction. “Devilish? It’s just black eyeshadow.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. She always knew how to make 10 to 100.

“It’s the way you wear it, it’s not right on that beautiful face of yours.” She exclaims but you ignore her, the servers placing down the plates of food. Putting the leftovers onto the middle of the table. “Wash it off immediately after dinner.” Your mom asks- no, demands. “Planned on it. Gonna go to sleep early.” You lied, stuffing your mouth with the bland food that was similar to every other night.

“I don‘t think you understand me. You are not to wear it again.” She tells you, you look over at her for a moment, then back down to your food. “Understood.” Normally you’d argue but you knew it was a lost cause. Instead you were lying, telling her what she wants to hear and then you were to do it all over again.

At the end of dinner you excused yourself, thanking the cooks and servers for the meal before heading up to your bedroom. The same steps you take ever since you were a child. Dinner, then bed. Sleep then breakfast in silence like the night before. School, extracurricular, back home. Study, dinner, then back to bed.

A loop that was never ending.

A loop that you were getting sick and tired of.

Entering the bedroom you quickly lock the door behind you. Dropping to your knees beside your bed and pulling out a box filled with dark clothing. Carefully picking out a cute set and then shoving the box back underneath your bed. You knew tonight was going to be the night you finally snuck out.

Over this white bread lifestyle.

You needed to experience something new, something different than what you were used to.

You change out of the tight, pretty clothing. Roughly putting on the dark red tank top, ripped up black jeans with these spiked belts. Topping it off with leather boots that were a little ragged down.

•••

It wasn’t difficult to sneak out, climbing out of your window that had a small roof leading to a good ole climbing tree. Wandering into the Undercity, that was a bit more challenging. You had no idea where you were. Where you were going, no clue. But you needed to venture out. Experience more than what your parents had planned for you. Living inside a planner with no true grasp of the world outside.

And somehow, you were now standing outside of a bar. Hearing voices and clatter from the outside. Music and big booming voices of older men cheering for something.

Only time you’ve heard anything similar is when your parents threw a gathering with their work buddies. The men cheering for some sport they were into and the women gossiping about whatever… Leaving you alone with the children that didn’t have nanny’s or babysitters for the night. Anxiously you opened the door, your feet seemingly moving subconsciously further into the building.

A few eyes peered onto you, but instead of slouching you confidently lift yourself up. Steps more quicker and you sat down on the bar beside an unknown person.

You didn’t even look over at them. Staring straight ahead as if you were on some sort of mission. “What can I get for ya, lil lady.” A gruff voice comes from the rather large man in front of you. Your eyes flicker up to him.

“Surprise me?” You smile, eyes half-lidded. He snickers. “Got just the thing.” He nods his head, he glances over at his friend that was right next to you. Letting out a small snort before heading off to make your drink.

You didn’t notice that said friend had his eyes on you ever since you walked in. His eyes bulging out of his head, mouth going dry at the sight of you. You were quite possibly the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

And when you sat next to him it was as if his heart dropped to his stomach. Childishly it was like fate to him.

Now he kept sneaking little peeks your way, sipping on his own drink. Wondering if he should say something. He just couldn’t stop looking at you. Your very presence has him weak.

You fidgeted with your fingers as you patient wait for your first bar-made drink. Of course you’ve had alcohol, trying pathetic sips from your parent’s wine collection. Some of your father’s whiskey he head in his office. But never a full on drink to yourself.

Taking a deep breath you turned your head to the left, looking straight at the man who has already been staring at you for a while. His jerks a bit to look away but he fights himself. “Hi.” You breathily say, not expecting your neighbor to have been so… attractive.

Even his air was knocked out of him from actually seeing your face so close to his own. Accidentally spilling his own drink down the sides of his mouth. It dribbles down his chin. “Hello.” He rasps as he quickly wipes up the liquid.

“I’m [Name].” You stick a hand out, smiling at him. You didn’t know how to start this, this environment was all new to you. “Silco.” He takes your smaller hand into his own, giving it a firm shake. His hand was surprisingly cold but you kind of enjoyed the feeling. Letting him go felt heartbreaking almost. “Do you come here often?” It was a cliche, and common question that he had half the mind to make fun of you for but instead he answers truthfully.

“I do, the bartender, the owner is my friend. So I come in for the free drinks” He points to the large man who was talking and laughing with a customer as he continued to make your drink. “Oh, that’s cool. He’s the owner as well?” You inquire, going to lean your elbow on the counter to mirror the man beside you but stopping yourself in habit.

He catches that but ignores it, focusing back on your face. Observing every crevice and curvature of it. “Mhm, his name is Vander- I haven’t seen you around here before, you’re not from Zaun, are you?” He quizzes and your body stiffens.

“Is it noticeable?” You murmur, the corners of his lips etched upwards. “Only a little bit, to ones paying close attention.” He answers and you gaze up at him. “And you’re paying close attention to me?” It was bold.

And as he was about to respond a heavy glass smacks down in front of you.

“A good Old Fashioned.” He says, Silco lets out a small huff, glaring up at his long time friend who had a smug smirk of his own. “Thank you! How much is it?” You reach into your pocket but he shakes his head. “On the house for the first timer.” He winks at you before walking away. Leaving you and Silco alone once again.

“Oh! Your friend is quite nice.” You grin, taking a small drink of the alcoholic beverage.

Silco watches as your eyebrows scrunch together, along with your nose as you dislike the drink before quickly trying to cover it up with another smile.

“So, Silco. You were paying close attention to me?” You ask in a flirty tone. He was amused by you, the way you continued to drink down the wretched liquid you obviously didn’t like. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He answers, taking the glass from your hand and replacing it with his own.

“You’ll like this better.” He promises, you raised a brow but decide to trust him. Trying it, your eyes instantly light up. “This is a lot better!” You say and he chuckles. “It’s a favorite of mine.” He informs you as you take another drink. “What is it?”

•••

That was the first night of many, making an effort to come and see him at least two times in the week. Silco was a breath of fresh air that you couldn’t get enough of, wanting to know more about him.

Dressing in edgier and edgier clothing, making sure to match the colors you saw him wearing the last time you saw him. And once he noticed that, he’d attempt to do the same.

You were head over heels for him, talking about him to friends from University. Telling them how sweet he was to you. How even though he’s from the Undercity he was quite careful with you. Gentle in the way he spoke.

And Silco couldn’t get enough of you, counting down the hours until he saw you. The way his heart raced thinking about you. His eyes dilating each time he spoke of you to his best friend. He didn’t even mind being teased by the big lug.

He knew you were out of his league but he didn’t care. He selfishly kept talking to you. Entertaining the thought of being with you.

•••

“Silco!!” You sang, placing down a box. His face scrunched in confusion, looking down at what’s in front of him. “Open it.” You excitedly beam, clasping your hands together. “You don’t have to get me anything, [Name]. This is the fifth gift you’ve given me.”

The way your name rolls off his tongue makes you want to melt right then and there in the spot. The feeling making you giddy. “Open it.” You repeat, ignoring his words. He lets out a short breath through his nose. Doing as told. It was a bracelet.

Lately it’s been things he’s told you he’s been meaning to get from the market. Never having the time to get them so you’re sure to make your own time and grab them each time your parents make you go out. And every time you gift them he’d say the same thing. “[Name], you didn’t need to do this.”

This time it’s a bracelet. This shocked him, he lifted it out of the box. Admiring the black leather that had yours and his names engraved into it. “I hope it’s not too bold of me. But I really like you.” You take the bracelet from him, unsnapping it open. “We even have matching ones.” You show him your own wrist. Waiting for him to give you his own wrist to snap on the leather.

“It might be a little childish, if it is. I apologize. I can understand.” You sheepishly say, fiddling with the bracelet in between your fingers. Instead of saying anything he shoves his wrist out in front of you. Seemingly speechless. “You like it?” You tilt your head.

“Put it on.” He says and you giggle, taking his wrist and gently placing the bracelet underneath, bringing each side over and snapping it. He watches as you do so. His eyes filled with admiration.

“Perfect.” You tap it three times, your eyes now catching his.

“Perfect.” He repeats softly.

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wondrluv · 3 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 LUKE AND Y/N

𝜗𝜚 HOW THEY GET TOGETHER

➪ they met in late august of their sophomore year

➪ it’s when she’s on her way to class and she physically runs into him, stumbling backward before he catches her

➪ they briefly exchange some words and the only thing she knows leaving that conversation is that his name is luke and that he’s in a frat

➪ she spends the next month dragging her friends to different frat parties in hopes she’ll see him

➪ they see him at every party they go to and at every party the two always have some sort of interaction with each other

➪ it’s early october when the two finally have a ‘real’ date

➪ the two end up going to get ice cream in his truck and she admits that she thinks about him alot

➪ full blurb kind of thing can be found here !

➪ their friends with benefits situation starts at the end of winter break/the start of their second semester of sophomore year

➪ at first the two of them take it slow and are just trying to get into it without causing too much tension between them

➪ but by the end of january and beginning of february, it falls into a steady rhythm

𝜗𝜚 THEIR RELATIONSHIP

➪ the two could not be more protective of one another

➪ two songs i relate with them are into you by ariana grande and uptown girl by billy joel

➪ luke’s nicknames for y/n: pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, gorgeous

➪ y/n’s nicknames for luke: lu, lukey, pretty boy, baby, handsome

➪ luke’s love language is physical touch and words of affirmation

➪ everyone thinks their a couple though most of their friends do know that they are just ‘friends-with-benefits’

➪ they’re always hanging out at one or the other’s rooms

➪ luke picks out her outfits whenever he stays over at hers

➪ they love going on late night drives together in his truck

➪ luke loves when y/n gets drunk because she gets so clingy and needy which is one of his favorite things in the world

➪ between the two of them, i could not tell you who is the more clingier one

➪ luke will always have his arm wrapped around her at parties unless she wanders off

➪ and he’s always making her sit in his lap when she does her homework

➪ another one of his favorite things is when she wears one of his button-downs especially if it’s unbuttoned

➪ but he’ll put her in them after they have sex so there’s been plenty of times where he wakes up to her making breakfast for them in his shirt and a pair of socks

➪ y/n attends all of the frat parties that she is able to, especially when she knows it’ll be the first time seeing him in a while

➪ she takes every opportunity just to ogle him, whether they’re sitting in his truck or he’s walking her to her class

➪ they are best friends, so they’re also just pure chaos together

➪ they go out to target and just goof around all the time

➪ they do a lot of tiktok trends and challenges together (buying each other things, ‘jacked-and-kind’, etc.)

➪ luke definitely will get her a shirt that says ‘luke’s girl’ on the front or ‘property of luke hughes’ on the back, either way it’s a white shirt and has pink lettering

➪ she plays with his bracelets when she’s anxious or just needs something to do with her hands

➪ if luke doesn’t have his hand on her thigh then something is seriously wrong

➪ they rarely fight but when/if they do it’s usually very messy and since the two can hold grudges forever, they could go weeks without speaking to the other

➪ very competitive

➪ luke will occasionally ‘try’ to help her with her homework but it always ends with them making out

#𝜗𝜚 into you au !#𝜗𝜚 luke and y/n !#luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader

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billionstarsandhereweare · 9 days ago

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a/n: hi fellow DD friends, I may or not may not have posted the first chapter of my jump into the DD fanfic world. hope you enjoy!!! also on ao3

summary: Struggling musician meets struggling-slightly-less lawyer. Inspiration is sparked. Chp 1/?

word count: 7k

pairings/notes: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader, no use of y/n though reader has a nickname, post netflix DD s3 but pre-DD:BA

“Oi! Barkeep! You in there?”

Startled by the noise, you jolted awake. As you rubbed the sleepy haze from your eyes, the front door of the bar slowly came into focus, along with the digital clock above it. 4:10PM. Shit. How long had you dozed off?

“Seriously girl, let me in! It’s frickin’ freezing out here!”

You rose from the metal stool you had been resting on and made your way towards the tiny foyer. Still drowsy, you fumbled with the old brass deadlock before managing to slide it open. As you swung the door open, you were greeted by a bearded grin and wet work boots.

“Dang Josie Jr., you’re not used to these late nights are you?”

“Shut it, Jackson. And I told you not to call me that.”

Jackson gave you a smirk. “Pardon me, ma’am.”

Rolling your eyes, you shuffled your way back to your regular position behind the bar. You’d be worried that Josie would be disappointed for opening 10 minutes late, but none of the regulars were waiting, and Jackson wasn’t the type to complain. Especially since Tuesdays were usually the slowest afternoons of the week.

Josie had been running this bar since you were a kid, and every Tuesday was the same. For most of your school years, you could be found doing homework in the back, stealing peanuts from the bar and stashing leftovers in the walk-in while your mom finished up her shift at the hospital in Uptown. Your apartment up on the fourth floor always felt too quiet, and as long as you stayed out the way, Josie didn’t mind you hanging around. The sound of beer bottles clinking, electronic dings from the dart boards, and clacking of billiard balls was better for your concentration than any white noise machine anyway. Mom had moved to Florida about ten years ago, but you stayed behind in the apartment while in college. You still studied in the back corner of Josie’s, the only change being that you added rum to your sodas. After graduation, she offered you a job to help stay afloat while you job-hunted. She was practically family and was much happier to bring on someone she already knew and trusted. You’d always had it as a fallback plan between jobs at music shops, private lessons, and your never-ending auditions for a consistent spot in an orchestra. Years had gone by since your first night there, and though your frustration grew more and more each day without a performance gig, you appreciated the steady income nonetheless.

“How long did Josie say she’d be out?” Jackson’s voice floated out from the back room, thuds following as he grabbed cases of beer and rearranged kegs.

“Couple of weeks, most likely. I told her to take whatever time she needed, it’s not like she’s had a vacation in the last however many years. I was starting to think she was literally chained to this place.” You really wouldn’t have been surprised if you found an actual shackle underneath the counter, with how much Josie worked.

He chuckled as he headed your way to check the canned beer fridge under the counter. An impressed smile crossed his face once he realized that not only was that full, but so was everything on the rail and the shelves.

“You’re making my job too easy, friend. Paula and I left everything a mess last night. What time did you even come in today to get this all taken care of?” Jackson asked.

“Around one or so. Eastern was here for a liquor delivery, so I popped down after my lessons.” Grabbing a rag from the ‘clean’ bucket under the sink, you squeezed behind him to start wiping up the rain he tracked in.

“For real though, if you needed help getting things set up, you could’ve called. I’m less than half a mile from here.”

You didn’t look up from the water on the floor you were trying to sop up.

“Does it look like I needed any help?”

Jackson faltered, voice falling. “I mean, no, I just…”

Now you glanced up at his six-foot-something frame. He seemed so much taller at this angle, yet he was almost shrinking back. It would have been almost amusing, him being afraid of you, but guilt immediately crept up in your chest instead.

“I’m sorry, Jackson. I’m just stressed out,” you admitted, “and I do appreciate the offer. Rough auditions this week, and I’m not used to working every night at the bar. Josie might never take another vacation if she finds out I asked you to help open, though.”

“Hah! Ain’t that the truth. Well, lemme know if anyone gives you trouble tonight, and I’m there,” clapping you on the back before he took his seat at the stool by the bar’s entrance.

You pulled yourself up off the floor, stretching and rolling your shoulders before tossing the wet rags into the ‘dirty’ bin. The bell on the front door jingled as the tension in your back released a little, settling into the normal weeknight routine as patrons filtered in for their usual drinks and games of pool.

Before you could even register time moving, nine-thirty rolled around and the bar was bustling. A couple of bikers by the pool tables loudly challenged their buddies to another round while a few others took turns at the dart boards, chatter and conversation filling the air. You were in your normal flow of handing out drinks, refilling the ice bin, and hollering at Jackson to grab yet another case of beer from the back when you heard a cheerful voice say,

“Well, it’s certainly nice to see you back instead of our usual wicked witch of a bartender!”

You turned around to be greeted by two men around your age, leaning on the bar. They stuck out in your memories of the usual Tuesday regulars, mainly because they were both in suits, a stark contrast to the usual biker vests and dirty canvas construction jackets usually seen. The blond one grinned at you, while his dark-haired friend had turned his head off to his left, eyes hidden behind maroon-colored lenses.

You gave the stocky blond a bit of a glare, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Ah, Foggy Nelson.”

“The one and only!”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten your incident with the popcorn machine last fall.”

He threw his arms out in exasperation and sighed, “Aw come on! It was a one-time occurrence, and I promise I made it up to Josie.”

“I don’t think calling her a wicked witch is a great way of making it up to her. Besides, I was the one sweeping up popcorn for hours, not her.”

“Alright fine, I guess I owe you for that. Why don’t you throw a drink for you on the firm’s tab with ours, I’ll take-“

You were already pouring a tall draft and a whiskey before he finished the sentence.

“Whatever beer is on special. Whiskey on the rocks for Matt,” nodding in his friend’s direction. “And no, Foggy Nelson, this is not going on your firm’s supposed tab. It’ll be $6 each.”

“What if I wanted something different?” frowned Foggy, picking up the frosty mug you slid in front of him.

“It may have been three months since I worked a Tuesday, but you’re pretty predictable. You only order something different if you’re trying to impress a woman and I’m pretty sure Matt’s not one,” you replied, barely managing to keep a straight face as Matt held back a chuckle.

“That’s… creepy, but impressive. I’ll give you that one, Z.”

Their nickname, well Foggy’s really, finally made you crack a smile. He had drunkenly bestowed it on you last summer when you and Josie were both behind the bar, as apparently “Jo and Z” was the funniest thing to him at the time.

“Hah! I knew I could break that scowl!” he said before turning around to head to him and Matt’s usual booth in the corner, stopping between to strike up conversation with one of the bikers.

“Truly is a golden retriever type, isn’t he?” you said, chuckling as you exchange a glass for Matt’s card.

“The enthusiasm never ends. Been like that since I met him.” Matt replied warmly, taking a sip of his drink. “I think he’s just excited to see you’re back, you’ve always been a little easier than him on Josie.”

“Eh, to be fair, Josie’s had to put up with him for longer.”

“That’s true. Speaking of, I’m assuming you’re here on a Tuesday because she’s out? Everything okay?”

You nodded and said, “Very astute of you. She’s out in Michigan for a couple of weeks, so it’s just me and Jackson running the place tonight. Finally convinced her to take a vacation.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Josie? Vacation? Never thought I’d hear those words together.”

“Trust me, it was no small feat.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s taking the time off. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her leave the bar. Go ahead and leave the card open, we’ll be here awhile. It’s good to see you again, Z.” Matt said, emphasizing your nickname with a small, amused smile.

“Good to see you guys too. I’ll come and check on your drinks in a bit.” He gave you a quick nod and flashed you a bigger grin, one that stopped you for just a couple seconds longer than it should.

It took you just a beat, but you managed to snap out of it, tossed your towel over your shoulder, and got back to work. You really need to get some proper rest girlfriend, thinking to yourself while shaking your head. Banter is half of what a bartender’s job is. Can’t be letting some dark-haired regular throw you out of your groove.

The night continued to rush by, a few rounds of draft specials for the mechanics up front, fives in exchange for quarters for the bikers at the pool table, vodka crans for the out-of-place college girls trying and failing to flirt with Jackson up front. He was effective as a bouncer, but there was something about the long, dirty blond hair tied back in a man-bun that college girls were drawn right to. They never made it far enough to realize Jackson’s type was guitar-playing hipster guys. As you started to head to Foggy and Matt’s table a little before midnight to grab their empties and hand out another round, you were still on autopilot.

“I’m just saying, this could bring in a lot of money. You remember what that is right? That green stuff that lets us pay rent and buy food?”

You probably shouldn’t have listened in, but you couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Comes with the territory, you thought to yourself.

“Foggy, I get that, but we started our firm to help people who need it. Not some sketchy guy working for a construction company that we can’t find any sort of information on.”

“How do you know he’s sketchy? What, did you use your ESP or something?”

“Knock it off. You know what I-”

Distracted, you stumbled over the uneven floor and the empty bottles in your left hand clattered to the ground in front of their booth. At least you managed to keep the tray in your right hand somewhat balanced. So much for staying in a groove.

“Look, it’s the wicked witch’s assistant!” an inebriated Foggy exclaimed, grinning and throwing his hands out in your direction.

After setting their drinks down on the table behind you, you crouched down to grab the empties rolling away. “Not doing super great at that, seeing as I’m throwing empty bottles at my regulars.”

“I think Josie would approve,” Matt said with amusement in his voice.

“Speak for yourself Matt, but I don’t much appreciate having things thrown at me,” Foggy shot in mock offense, his nose in the air.

“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Nelson. I’ll make sure I only throw things at the blind man,” you fired back without thinking. Right after the words left your mouth, Foggy choked on his beer, sputtering and shaking with laughter. As you realized what you said, your cheeks immediately flushed red and you stuttered out, “God, sorry Matt, I swear it was a joke – I didn’t-“

Matt let out a sympathetic laugh as he elbowed Foggy in the ribs, saying, “You only need to be sorry if Foggy drowns in his beer.”

You winced. “God no, seriously, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about-“

“Really, it’s fine. He makes worse jokes on an hourly basis at this point,” Matt said waving his hand, giving you a reassuring look that made the heat in your face fade just a little.

“Well, either way, I feel bad. Either for the joke or for making Foggy inhale his beer. Next round’s on me, just don’t tell Josie,” you offered, smiling at them both before sliding their drinks over.

Foggy flashed a smile back about as bright as a spotlight while Matt gave a thumbs-up before you walked back to the bar.

Twelve forty-five came around as you flipped on the overhead lights.

“Last call! Wrap it up everyone!”

You started pulling out receipts and ringing out orders. The biker guys were finishing up their last round of pool, and Foggy and Matt still sat at their booth at the opposite end, half arguing, half laughing about something you couldn’t quite hear. As Jackson started refilling the beer fridge for the final time, you realized you forgot the key to the safe at Josie’s place after dropping off the monthly invoices earlier in the morning.

“Hey, Jackson, can you mind the bar for five minutes? I need to run upstairs and grab the safe key.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Jacks.”

As you walked past the walk-in fridge towards the back staircase, you heard him retort, “But that’s what I’m good at, boss!”

“Five minutes! Don’t burn the place down!”

You trotted up the four flights of stairs to the hallway connecting your side of the floor to Josie’s. After punching in the code to her apartment, you entered the dark living room, immediately seeing the safe key on the end table where you left it. Stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatshirt, you decided to pop over to your place to grab your headphones, knowing it would be a welcome distraction as you needed to deep clean the back bar later on. Just as you crossed into your bedroom to grab them off the desk, a strange sound from the bathroom reached your ears. As you padded closer to the door, you felt your stomach drop as you recognized what it was.

Water fell in a steady stream down from a hole in the ceiling right above the showerhead, and out into the room. Your eyes darted over to the built-in armoire that held all your clothes to see that it was soaked, too. There was a single step down between the bedroom and bathroom, and as you looked down, you saw water covering every inch of the floor.

“Fuck!”

Racing back through the bedroom, through the living room, and into the kitchen, you reached the main water shutoff for the fourth floor in the utility closet. After grabbing and cranking it shut, you ran back to the bathroom to make sure that the water stopped, and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw it did. You fumbled for your phone, managing to dial the bar’s number with shaky hands. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

“Hey girl, what’s the hold up?”

Phew. “Oh thank god.”

Jackson picked up the concern in your voice near immediately. “What’s the matter?”

“Water line in my shower bust open. Not sure how. Gonna be cleaning this up for hours. Can you finish closing the bar down?”

“Shit. Uh, I can, but I need your register card first. Your lawyer friends are here trying to close out, looks like you comped some of their drinks. Need your card for that. Did you leave it by the bar?”

You frantically patted down the pockets in your jeans, felt the plastic card in your back pocket, and sighed. “No, I have it. I guess the water’s not going anywhere for right now. I’ll be down in a sec.”

You looked around at your bathroom and took in the damage. With this amount of water, you’d be cleaning it up until the morning. It’d be a small miracle if the whole room wouldn’t need to be gutted. A sinking feeling started to fill your stomach, but before you could let it settle too far, you shook it off, heading out the door and locking it before jogging back downstairs.

Once behind the bar again, you let out a sigh, realizing it had been only ten minutes, though it felt like much longer than that. All of the bikers were tugging on their jackets, and a very drunk Foggy was teasing Jackson about something.

“Sorry about the wait, guys. Apartment trouble.”

“It’s about time, Glinda!” Foggy slurred.

That got a chuckle out of you. “Foggy, I’m pretty sure Glinda was the Wicked Witch’s sister, not her assistant.” You swiped your card at the register and got their final bills printed out. As you handed them the checks and a couple of pens, you hurriedly said “I have to head back upstairs, but I’m sure I’ll see you two next week.”

“Is everything alright?” Matt inquired with furrowed brows while handing back his signed receipt and pen.

You ran your hands over your face, groaning. “Water line burst in my bathroom. Entire room is flooded. Gonna be in there with a shop-vac all night getting the water out.”

He paused. “Well, if you want some help...” Matt trailed off, though the look of concern on his face held fast.

You stopped for a second, considering. Nice of him to offer, I guess even a blind second set of hands is better than one. You scowled at yourself for that thought. Don’t be rude, you jerk. Not really in the habit of inviting men I hardly know into my apartment, but Josie has said they’re good guys, so…

“You know what, yeah, I could use it,” you admitted to Matt with a sigh. “You sure the one-and-only Foggy Nelson is going to be much assistance, though?” you asked, thumbing over at his drunken counterpart, using Jackson as support as he tried to put on his coat.

Matt tilted his head towards Foggy, pausing before he replied. “Hah, yeah, he definitely drank more than his fair share tonight. I’ll call him a cab and get him on his way home, and then I can help out.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

“Just helping a friend. Don’t worry about it.” He gave you that wide smile again, and you briefly forget about the mess waiting upstairs. “Do you want me to wait here in the bar until you’re finished up?”

You nodded, and then felt heat rise to your cheeks, slightly embarrassed once you realized that wasn’t something he could notice. “Um, yes – well, Jackson’s gonna take care of closing the bar, so he can show you upstairs and through my place once you get Foggy situated. I want to get a jump on it. Just uh, knock or something when you get to my bathroom so I don’t jump out of my skin when I see you standing there.”

Matt nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll be up soon,” he said before turning to assist a stumbling Foggy. You turned to make your way to the back stairs to start cleaning up the small pond waiting for you. Just as you passed Jackson, he grabbed your arm and in a hushed voice singsonged “Matt and Josie Jr., sittin’ in tree…”

You punched him in the stomach with your free hand before he got much farther. “Seriously, man?”

He let go and rubbed where you hit him, chuckling. “I’m just saying, I’ve never seen you invite a guy upstairs to your place.”

“Ah yes, because mopping up gallons and gallons of water in a cold bathroom just screams ‘romantic.’ Don’t know why I didn’t think of this pick-up before.”

“Every time he smiles at you, you stop for a second. I’ve never seen someone snap you out of your rhythm like that.”

You hated it, but he was right. Too observant for his own good sometimes. Crossing your arms, you glared at him and replied “Can you just let him in when he’s done and bring him upstairs? I’ve got a mini Hudson in my apartment and I’d really like to get started on cleaning it up.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’ll escort him,” Jackson said while rolling his eyes at you.

“Thank you,” you replied, then softened as you continued, “And thank you for helping to close things down tonight. You can go once you get Matt upstairs, I’m sure Carter’s waiting for you. We’ll worry about deep cleaning the back bar later this week.”

“Anytime. You know I’ve got your back.”

You gave him a tired but thankful smile and headed upstairs.

Even after cuffing your jeans to almost the knee, your legs were still soaked by the time Matt got up to your apartment. You’d managed to get the wet clothes out of the built in, wrung out, and tossed in a bag to take to the laundromat. You were just dumping the latest pass with the shop-vac down the drain of the tub when you heard a clicking in your bedroom. Wiping the sweaty strands of hair that had fallen from your braid out of your eyes, you looked up to see Matt knocking one hand against the frame of the door, cane resting in the other.

“Hey again. Jackson let me in. I told him I could find my way back to you,” Matt said before setting his coat and cane down to join you in the bathroom.

You felt a pang of embarrassment in your chest. “Oh, I told him to walk you back here. Didn’t want you to have to find your way around this maze of doors alone.”

He smiled gently at you. “It’s not a big deal, it’s pretty easy to hear where you are, what with the vacuum running and all.”

Another pang, then you started to stutter. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like- I mean, I meant-”

“Hey, it’s okay, really. Don’t worry about me, I get around fine,” Matt said through a quiet laugh. “Happens all the time.”

“What, the walking on eggshells-like attitude, or making women stutter in your presence?” Oh my god, shut up.

“Well, the first one more than the second, usually.” Matt grinned, shrugging his shoulders. As he started rolling up his sleeves he continued, “but enough about my problems, what do you need help with?”

Your eyes had drifted towards the now-bare skin of his forearms. He looked stronger than you expected for a lawyer, muscles flexing as the long fingers of his hand deftly cuffed his shirt at the elbow. You involuntarily licked your lips, admiring how the tendons in his broad hands rolled as he loosened the button on his other sleeve. Shaking it off, you tapped the corner of the bathroom and showed Matt where to start vacuuming up water.

“We can just dump the water in the tub, it’s a little over two feet to your left. Luckily none of the drains have an issue, it’s just the water line. I’m gonna go move this bag of clothes out of the way, I need to take them to the laundromat in the morning.”

“You’re welcome to use my washer & dryer, if you want. Probably about the same distance, but I won’t charge you a week’s worth of pay.”

Josie was right, these were good guys. “I may have to take you up on that. Don’t get too much in cash tips, mainly cards now. Even with the older biker guys, you’d be surprised at how many of them have points cards.”

You could hear Matt laugh as you dragged your laundry bag to the front door. Cleaning this unexpected mess up was certainly a little easier with good company. You made quick work of the remaining water as you swept the water towards Matt while he held the vacuum, and once the pond was reduced to small puddles, you tasked Matt with wiping out the built-in so the water didn’t seep into the wood more than it already had. You were moving out to the hallway to grab the mop out of the utility closet when you heard Matt speak.

“So, how do you know Josie? Other than working at the bar? I can’t imagine her hiring someone she didn’t already know.”

You couldn’t imagine it either. “I’ve actually known her for most of my life. My mom and I moved into this apartment when I was ten. Josie actually owns the first five floors of this building.”

Matt paused in disbelief for a moment and said, “No way, Josie, a landlord?”

“Seriously. Apparently her family’s owned the building, including the bar, for over a century. The bar was actually a speakeasy back in the 20s.”

A chuckle. “Just when you think you know your barkeep…”

“Don’t tell her I said anything, we don’t want to ruin her mystique, after all.”

“Not a word I ever would have used to describe Josie, but yes, secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks. Anyway, yeah, she’s been my landlord for 20-something years now. My mom moved to Florida years ago, but I was still in college so I stuck around. Josie covered the rent until I graduated and got a ‘real’ job,” you continued.

“What did you go to school for?”

You scoffed a little, and replied, “Music performance. Piano, specifically.” Not wanting to elaborate on your distinct lack of a full-time gig, you turned the question around. “Obviously you have a degree, considering your lawyer-ing. Where’d you go?”

“Columbia. Foggy and I both. We decided to start our own firm after working for corporations at our internship. Got sick of defending faceless businesses,” Matt frowned a little.

“Oh so you’re standing up for the little guy? We need more of that.”

“I’d like to think so. Eating rice for every meal is getting a little old, though. Law isn’t all glitz.”

You chuckled as you replied, “I feel that. The supply shop I worked for closed three months ago. Until I managed to start doing private lessons, I was pretty much eating bar peanuts and $2 frozen pizzas. Now I’ve upgraded to cheap Chinese.”

“That’s glamorous,” Matt laughed.

“Very,” you confirmed as you turned back to the task at hand. “So, now that we’ve got the water mostly cleaned up, I think I’m going to cut into this drywall. Gotta see what the damage is. If you need to take off I understand,” glancing at your phone, “I imagine law starts early and it’s past two AM.”

“I don’t mind staying and helping. I don’t sleep much anyway,” he quietly admitted as he leaned against the wall behind you.

You pulled your utility knife from your back pocket and started cutting into the drywall two feet off the floor. Once you got to the wall shared with the bedroom, your stomach sank.

“Shit,” you muttered. “Not what I wanted to find.”

“Seeped through to the other walls?”

“Yeah. Which means the restoration process is going to be more intense than I was hoping.”

Behind you, Matt paused, and then you heard him sniff. “Might be worse than that.” He walked up, close enough you could feel the heat of his body against your back. He gently set his hands on your shoulders, thumbs grazing the back of your neck, making you shiver just the slightest amount at the unexpected, but not unwelcome touch. He leaned over you and sniffed again. “Smells like mildew… maybe mold.”

He must have sensed the pause before you started to speak and answered your question before it could leave your mouth. “When you can’t see, you tend to be able to hear and smell things before others. Lack of one sense heightens the others.”

“Gotcha. Well, if it’s mold, I might be able to see it, now that the wall is open.” Grabbing your phone, you turned on the flashlight and directed it at the wall you cut open. After your eyes adjusted to the light, you could see some kind of discoloration on the inside of your bedroom wall. As you squatted down and leaned in closer to inspect it, you were suddenly hit with the musty odor that confirmed it. Definitely mold or mildew. You looked over your shoulder to see Matt’s figure back in the doorway.

“Yeah, there’s definitely something in there. Gonna have to have the entire floor looked at, probably. So much for my plan of sleeping on Josie’s couch.”

“I take it this isn’t your first water leak.”

“I’ve seen enough to know how this goes. The water damage was going to put me out of a bathroom for at least a month, but mold...” You pulled your braid loose and ran your hands through your hair, unease settling in your chest like a boulder.

Matt cleared his throat. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wh-What?”

He paused before he repeated the question, though out of apprehension or concern, you weren’t sure. “Do you need a place to stay? I’ve got a spare room. If that is actually mold, you probably shouldn’t be around it any more than you have to be.” You were pretty sure he could tell you were staring at him, mouth agape, as he continued, voice quieting as he softly said, “Josie acts like a real hardass, but she’s always been kind to me. I’ve known her for a long time, too. Helping you out would be helping her so…” He rubbed the back of his neck, unease in his voice as he trailed off.

You were still staring. You swore he could hear your heart, it was beating so loud, banging against your ribcage as you tried to process what exactly he had offered. Finally managing to break your mental block and work through the situation, you stuttered out, “I uh-, I-I could use a place for tonight. I think I’ll probably end up with a hotel or rental through my insurance, but I won’t know until tomorrow.”

He relaxed a bit, shoulders dropping. “Well, pack up what you need.” He took a few steps, closing the distance between you before reaching a hand down to help you up. Taking it, you stood and replied, “Thanks. Shouldn’t take me too long to throw together a bag.”

“Can’t resist helping a damsel in distress,” Matt replied with a playful grin. “I have a moral code to uphold.”

You rolled your eyes but replied gratefully, “You’re gonna end up drinking for free with how much you’re helping me out, Mr. Murdock.”

He just smirked and repeated your remark from the bar earlier. “Don’t tell Josie.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. If you wanna wait out in the living room, I shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes.”

Matt nodded before turning and leaving you alone in the bathroom. After taking a few deep breaths, you quickly ran through a mental checklist of what you needed to grab. Shower stuff, meds, charger, backpack... As you started opening the drawers in your vanity, you caught your reflection in the mirror above the sink. The circles under your eyes, ones that had seemingly been getting darker over the last few weeks, were accompanied by mascara smudged from sweat, your irises rimmed with red from tiredness. You hastily pulled your hair up into a bun and tried to wipe the marks under your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. A few strands of hair made their way loose, and if you weren’t so exhausted, you knew you’d be feeling self conscious about what a mess you were.

You made your way into the living room once you had everything packed up to see Matt waiting calmly by the front door. He lifted his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Have everything you need?”

“I think so. You really okay with me using your washer? I’ve got probably half my closet stuffed into this laundry bag. May double your water bill for the month.”

Chuckling, Matt replied, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to pay me back.”

“You’re quickly approaching ‘free whiskey for life’ status here.”

“Maybe that was my plan all along.”

“Can’t believe I fell for the good Samaritan act!” you laughed as you laced up your boots. You moved past him, reaching for the front door. “Go ahead in front of me so I can lock up.”

He stepped out into the hallway as you slipped into your jacket and tossed your backpack over your shoulder, quickly following him out the door.

“We’ll take the stairs over to the right, it’ll let us out the back of the building,” you said as you gathered up your laundry bag. A hand brushed against your elbow, causing you to jump a little, not expecting the gentle grip of his fingers.

“Sorry,” Matt said softly. “Do you mind guiding? It’s a little easier than using the cane inside.”

“Oh, yeah - sorry, it’s not you, I just get kinda jumpy when I’m tired,” you said as you let Matt move his hand into the crook of your arm. Truthfully, you were thankful for the warm weight of his fingers as they landed on your bicep, as it helped balance out the load of laundry you carried in your other hand. As you exited the building into chilled, damp February air, you found yourself drawing closer to Matt’s side, involuntarily seeking the warmth that seemed to radiate from him. A cold breeze blew across you, carrying the faint scent of leather and wood from him to you. You turned the corner, following his directions as you made your way to his apartment, and an impulsive question tumbled from you.

“Have you always been blind?”

You felt Matt stiffen next to you, tension running up his broad frame.

“I guess you get asked that a lot. Stupid unfiltered thought, sorry.”

“It’s a pretty common question, yeah. Not stupid though. And your answer is no, I haven’t. Happened when I was a kid,” Matt responded, though you could still feel what felt like discomfort at your questions.

You walked a few steps without speaking, unsure of how to continue the conversation. You finally managed to answer with, “I can’t imagine how hard it would be to adapt to that.”

“I still struggle with it sometimes,” he admitted softly, “but there’s beauty in how I see the world now.”

“That seems like a very healthy way to look at it. No pun intended.”

You got a quiet chuckle from that. “Took me awhile to get there. Might be resilience, or maybe I’m just stubborn.”

“We’ll call it resilience. Sounds better,” you smiled, nudging him.

“Fair enough. My turn for an invasive question,” he countered, nudging you back. “What’s a classically trained musician doing at a dive bar?”

You groaned in response. “Guess you deserve a question since you answered mine. Currently ah, between gigs. And by between gigs I mean I haven’t gotten a call back from an audition in over four months.”

“Wow. Competitive field?”

“It is, but I’m not sure if I’ve hit a bad string of luck or if I’m just terrible at this point.”

“I haven’t heard you play, but I highly doubt it’s the last one.”

“Ever a gentleman. I’ve got a couple more lined up in the next few weeks, and at least I’ve been able to use my degree in the meantime. Got a handful of kids I teach during the day.”

“Sounds like you might be as resilient as me,” Matt replied pointedly with a smirk on his face.

“Touché.”

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the way. Once you reached his building, he unlocked the front door and held it open for you, and you entered a generic-looking lobby with beige tile floors and off-white paneled walls. Gesturing to the stairs on the left, he explained, “I’m on the sixth floor, but we can take the service elevator.”

Just looking at the metal stairs had your legs feeling weak, the weight of your laundry bag seemingly growing heavier. “Thanks,” you replied tiredly, “not sure I’d be able to haul all this up tonight.”

You followed Matt past the stairs down a short hallway that led to the service elevator. He entered first, hitting the ‘6’ button while you followed behind. Once inside, you leaned against the cool metal of the walls, eyes closing as your exhaustion began to settle in. You didn’t notice the elevator car opening on the sixth floor, though you did feel Matt’s hand gently press on your lower back.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside so you can get some actual rest,” he said. You stepped out of the elevator into a brightly lit landing, letting Matt move in front of you to unlock his front door.

It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the dark entryway. Compared to your apartment, which you’d always described as “cozy,” Matt’s seemed almost cavernous. It appeared to be an old warehouse that was turned into a living space, with exposed brick all the way up to the top of the easily 20 foot ceiling. Across from the entry where you were standing, there were twelve-foot tall windows that filtered the light from the street lamps outside, giving the room an eerie yellow glow. On the left, a large, frosted glass door separated what you assumed was a bedroom area from the living room. Your eyes swept over the oversized leather sofa & chairs to the right side of the space that held a simple galley-style kitchen. Dark, espresso-stained cabinetry spanned most of the length of the back wall, flanked on one side by a stainless steel fridge, and a pocket door on the other.

You managed to pull your dropped jaw shut after muttering, “Jesus. This is your idea of law not being glitzy?”

Matt didn’t move from the entry where he was hanging his coat. “Wait for it.”

A flash of light lit the apartment up, startling you. You walked over towards the bank of windows, searching for the source. Peering through the fogged panes, you could make out a billboard with what looked like spotlights dancing behind it.

You let out a low whistle. “Good lord.”

“Been there for years. It’s a little distracting, apparently. Got a good deal on the place though.”

“Why on earth is that across from an apartment? That’s gotta be against… some sort of building code.”

“This floor is all apartments now, but it was warehouse space up until five or six years ago. This is the only one that faces it, so it isn’t really an issue for anyone else. They don’t get the cheap rent, though.” Matt shrugged before walking over and to the kitchen island where he dropped his keys. He waited, tracking your footsteps as you slowly walked through the living room, taking in the space before you made your way to lean against the island.

“Bathroom and laundry are behind you to the left,” he said once you had settled at the island in front of him. He motioned behind him, “Spare room is through that pocket door. There’s a murphy bed in there, just pull down on the handle on the wall and it’ll come down. Should already be made, except for the pillows. Those are in the dresser. I’ll go put your laundry in the bathroom.”

You walked past him, inspecting your new room for the night. The ceiling was a lot lower here, and it couldn’t have been more than seven feet deep total. The wall across from the doorway you stood in housed the murphy bed Matt had mentioned, flanked on either side by tall shelves filled with books. A red metal dresser sat in the corner of the small room.

“All good?” Matt asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah. I hate to ask, but you wouldn’t happen to have a pair of sweatpants or something I could borrow would you?” you asked, picking at the damp denim against your thighs. “I think all of mine ended up getting wet.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

As Matt left the room, you reached up for the metal handle of the bed, pulling it down smoothly away from the wall. You were fluffing the pillows from the dresser as he returned, sweatpants in hand.

“Here you go. Brought a shirt too, just in case. You get the bed set up alright?”

“I did. Gotta say, it looks way more comfortable than Josie’s couch.”

“Good. I’ll let you get some sleep then. I have to be at the office in the morning, but you can stay as long as you need to. I’ll leave a spare key on the counter.”

“Okay. Thanks for the sweatpants. And the bed. And the help. And everything else.”

Matt gave you a soft smile. “You can thank me by getting some rest, you need it.”

No way you were arguing with that. “Good night, Matt.”

“Good night,” he replied, sliding the door shut.

You peeled off your damp jeans and slipped into the borrowed sweats before crawling into bed. Exhaustion quickly washed over you as you pulled the sheets up and around your shoulders, inhaling the faint scent of detergent, cotton, and oak before sighing and shutting your eyes. Sleep claimed you almost immediately, your worn-out body finally at rest.

Somewhere above you, a door creaked open.

#daredevil #matt murdock x reader #fanfic #matt murdock #it’s also my birthday BUT you get a gift instead! the gift of a matt murdock fic!

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exhaslo · 2 years ago

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Ghostface!Miguel x Reader PT.1

A little drabble until the poll is done~

Warning: Minors DNI, murder, drugs

It had been a long day and you were ready for some R & R. At least, you wanted to. It was Halloween and you would have loved nothing more than to go home, shower, and watch Halloween specials while munching on some candy and popcorn. That would have been your dream night after a long day of work, but those plans had derailed. One of your dear friends had invited you to a Halloween party. And what's better?

Apparently, your long time crush, Miguel O'Hara, was going to be there.

Now, Miguel was your friend. Had been for years since college. He was as fine as fine could be. You went from good friends to touching yourself to wet dreams of him every night. You had wanted to confess to the man, but he had girls all around him. Miguel was smart and stern. It was like he never took a day off to relax. You wanted to be his stress reliever.

"I can't imagine him at a party. Let alone a Halloween one," You mutter under your breathe as you put your costume on, "I hope this isn't too slutty."

You arrived at the location of the party, growing more worried by the second. This place seemed like those frat parties back in college. Miguel avoided those like the plague. You hesitantly grabbed your phone and noticed an unknown number calling you,

"Um, hello?"

"Hello, (Y/N)" The voice on the other line whispers. You tense slightly,

"Sorry, do I know you?"

"You tell me."

"Look, it's really loud and I'm super nervous right now. I can't even remember if I locked my own door, so I can't say who this is." You admitted, still hesitating on entering the party.

"Why are you so nervous?"

You gulped, "I was told the guy I like would be at a party and, well, it isn't somewhere he would be at...normally. That, and I feel so self cautious with my costume," You admitted.

What harm was there to let your heart out? It did make you feel better.

"Then call him and find out." The voice said in a demanding tone. You sighed softly,

"I was going too, but then you called. Anyway, you are you?"

"Someone willing to spare you."

The call dropped. You stared at the number in confusion, trying to think of who would call you like that. As you finally entered the building, you suddenly recalled the recent murders on the news. The only connection that was made was a random phone call from an unknown number. You heart rate spiked as you immediately called Miguel.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel answered. You bit down on your nail,

"H-Heeeey, so, super random. I was told that you were coming to this party uptown and well....I'm like freaking out because I got this strange call and you know how my brain leads from one thing to another and-"

"(Y/N), I need you to breathe. I'll be there soon."

-----------

You felt relieved when Miguel told you that he was coming. That was about twenty minutes ago. Time was going by slowly and your anxiety was rising. You were on your phone, googling everything about the Ghostface murders. He wouldn't attack you in a public place like this. Right? You were so focused on the news articles that you failed to notice some guys spike your drink.

You tried to calm down by drinking the thoughts away. You had a few shots, plus your tainted drink. Another ten minutes had passed and you were starting to feel woozy. You couldn't focus and decided to head to the bathroom in case you needed to throw up. As you stumbled, your phone rang again with the unknown number.

"Miguel?" You slurred, leaning against the wall.

"..." The voice was quiet at first, "You sound different from earlier."

"I don't feel too good. Migueeeeel," You groaned lowly. The voice grunted on their end,

"Don't hang up on me."

"Hey there, miss. Why don't we take you home?"

Your vision was blurred, but you could see two figures hovering over you. You tried to push them away, gripping onto your phone for dear life. The two men took it upon themselves to take you outside through the back alley door. The phone was taken out of your hands and tossed towards the concrete ground. You tried to complain, but they had covered your mouth.

"Don't think we can wait for the car-"

Before they could even finish their sentence, Ghostface appeared and started to stab them repeatedly. You slumped to the floor, unable to register what was happening. All you saw was red. You tried to come to your senses, barely registering that Ghostface was killing the two men before you. He didn't match the reports. Ghostface was supposed to be a calm and silent killer, not a stabbing maniac.

"(Y/N)! Are you alright?"

All you could do was whimper as you faded to black.

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

PT.2 Will be in a bit!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

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queenofhawkinshigh · 2 months ago

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OOC:

It actually drives me so crazy (derogatory) when people say Chrissy wouldn’t get into metal whatsoever.

Aside from the more popular songs, I wasn’t really familiar with it prior to S4, but I’ve been going through the albums the bands on Eddie’s battle vest came out with in 1986 and before and I truly believe there’s something for everyone who’s genuinely willing to listen! While I don’t think she’d be a secret metalhead and she’d have to be introduced to that world, I do think she’d be openminded to it—out of curiosity for herself as well as care for Eddie and his number one passion. I can’t get behind Chrissy seeing him smile so big he dimples and not wondering what about it gets him so fired up… and not understanding after he tells her and, more importantly, shows her.

It’d give her a chance to explore parts of herself she’s kept locked up inside. The bad, sad stuff people in that day and age would discourage talking about, I’m finding metal artists did. In a befittingly brave in-your-face kind of way! That kind of encouragement would be new and different and maybe even scary at first, but good. She’s never had a safe place to look at the way she grew up, at her mother’s cruelty and her father’s neglect, and scream about how unfair it was and how it hurt and still hurts. She’s lived her life never being able to let those feelings loose, so even some of the harder, wilder stuff could and, I think, would reach her heart.

Speaking of her heart, she’s a hopeless romantic—and there are actually so, so many romantic metal songs from that time period that fit Hellcheer to a T! She can listen to and love Steal Away (The Night) by Ozzy Osbourne and Fever by Judas Priest AND listen to and love Belinda Carlisle and Cyndi Lauper and ABBA. Why should she only love one or the other? Why not metal and pop?

Just imagine her excitedly taking the sleeves off a white denim jacket, dyeing it pink, and wearing it to the metal concerts she goes to with Eddie, buying a new patch or pin at the merch table to add to it. With! With her pastel candy stripe dresses underneath.

And just as excitedly taking Eddie to Billy Joel, both of them going nuts when he does Uptown Girl.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I do think it’d be the most awful thing ever for her to completely change—her hair and makeup and clothes and self—to fit in with Eddie and his friends. I don’t want that! The Eddie we know and love wouldn’t want that either. If he’s had a crush on her since middle school, he’s been crushing on her pink and peppy and poppy.

I just think she can be herself and enjoy being a part of something new—something she can deeply connect with—too!

Let my girl go crazy (complimentary)!

#hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #( i’m kinda scared to post this because i don’t wanna make anyone mad )#( felt bold might delete later )#i still need a tag for myself : ooc

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year ago

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uptown girl // mickey "fanboy" garcia

soft kisses shared in the bar light after a game of pool

she would do anything for her nerd boy. except maybe meet his friends in a crowded bar with a pool table where she can make a fool of herself in front of all of her boyfriend's friends. it's a good thing that mickey is a good teacher.

pairing: mickey "fanboy" garcia x female! reader

author's note: he had like four lines and i was prepared to go to war for this man.

the hard deck hummed with activity as she parked her car, flicking off the manual headlights before glancing at her phone, which was pinned to it's magnetic holder on the dashboard.

it wasn't too late to text mickey and tell him something had come up, was it?

as she was thinking it, as if mickey could hear her, her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a text message from her beloved.

mickey: hey sweet girl, are you almost here? everyone is so excited to meet you!

she sighed, switching the music off and cutting the engine, sitting in the dark car and waiting for the heated seat to lose its warmth. her relationship with mickey garcia was still very new.

they had only been together for a few months, having met at an eighties rock-and-glow dance night. she was standing by the stage, dressed in skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that glowed fluorescent in the blacklight, an old-timey glass sprite bottle in her hands as she sang bonnie tyler at the top of her lungs. he was the best dancer there, with a goofy personality that captivated her from the moment he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a slow dance to 'heaven in your eyes'.

deciding to rip the band-aid off, she grabbed her tote bag from the passenger seat and slipped out of the car, sea breeze cutting deep and sending a chill down her spine as she walked up the weathered steps to fightertown's navy bar.

her sweet boy was impossible to miss, his smile lighting up the whole bar as he stood next to the pool table, his short-sleeved button shirt untucked from his crisp blue jeans.

as nervous as she was, it was hard not to smile when she saw him, watching as he leaned over the table to delicately knock a striped ball into one of the pockets in the corner of the table. after the shot, he looked up, and infectious grin breaking out over his face when he saw her.

"hey, pretty girl." he beamed, passing his pool cue to a woman in a black turtleneck and jeans before he sidestepped the table and pulled his lover into an embrace. "i'm glad you came."

"hi, mickey." she smiled, kissing him softly. "i've missed you."

"are you ready to meet everyone? or do you want something to eat first? i can order you a plate of onion rings-"

she laughed softly, taking his hand in hers. she loved how attentive and sweet he was, always trying to dote on her whenever he could. when they were together, he hated letting her pay for things, even if it meant dipping into his not-enormous navy salary "mickey, it's okay. i have time to meet your friends before i order."

with a soft kiss to the side of her head, mickey looped his arm around her shoulders and they headed towards the pool table. "guys, this is y/n. my girlfriend."

she underestimated how much her heart would swell at hearing mickey say those words. hearing someone declare to the world that they had chosen her.

"y/n, this is natasha, jake, robert, bradley, hallie and javy."

"hello!" she squeaked, waving at the group. "nice to finally meet you guys, mickey has told me so much about you guys."

robert laughed, reaching out to shake her hand. "and mickey has told us even more about you. fanboy loves to talk."

she never though she'd meet someone who talked as much as she did until she met mickey. they could talk for hours, about anything and everything. when they were together, she suspected it would drive the people around them insane. except she didn't know how his friends would react, what they would think of her.

they made small talk for a little, while some of the guys and natasha all took their turns at the pool table. it was team game, although the teams seemed to be a little unbalanced in terms of skill level. mickey had pulled her into his lap, gently rubbing circles on the skin underneath her peasant top.

jake leaned over the table, his pool cue hitting the white ball, white harmlessly dusted the side of the ball he was aiming for, plunking down in the basket.

"god damn it, hangman!" javy groaned

natasha laughed, high-fiving bradley. "sucks to suck, bagman!"

mickey shifted in his chair, hands running up her sides. "our turn, pretty girl. do you want to try?"

she turned back to him, a small glint of panic in her eyes as she took his hand in hers. "i'm not very good."

bradley snorted, taking a sip of his budweiser. "we're miles ahead of hangman, you could break the table and we'd still be ahead of them."

"go on." mickey encouraged, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder blade. "i'll guide you."

she stood up, still clutching his hand in hers as she moved towards the pool table. hallie passed her a pool cue, and she stood nervously by the table until mickey came up behind her. his hands were warm through her jeans, his back against hers as he guided her into the correct position.

"you got this, sweet girl." he said quietly, kissing the side of her head gently, his hands over hers on the cue. "it's a straight shot into the basket."

mickey stepped back, his hands still on her waist as she took the shot, hitting with just enough force for the white ball to send the orange solid ball into the basket.

one fell swoop.

mickey's side of the pool table started to cheer, and her cheeks flushed pink as she turned around to wrap her arms around mickey, hiding her face from the crowd.

"great job, my darling girl." mickey laughed, kissing her softly. "are you sure you haven't played pool before."

"my grandfather had a table in his basement." she said sheepishly, leaning the cue against the table to she could slip her hands into mickey's back pockets. "but i haven't played a proper game since I was twelve. he sold the table when they sold the house."

"maybe you'll have to play more often." mickey said, leaning in to kiss her softly. "i love you."

"i love you too."

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @thatsdemko @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @httpiastri

#mickey garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #fanboy x reader #fools in love! event

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whiskey-bumblebee · 2 years ago

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Hey, hope you're doing good today 🤠 dbf!Hotch who notices reader "having trouble with her car" and he helps her? She's more than capable of doing it herself, but she just wanted a reason for Hotch to come over while her parents were away. She may or may not have self sabotaged it to get him over there shirtless in the blazing sun, offering a dip in the pool as repayment, but hinting at more 👁️🫦👁️ i hope that makes sense lol

I LOVE THIS IDEA! thank you bestie <3 get ready to meet the smartest bimbo ever

Uptown Girl

Pairing: dbf!Aaron Hotchner/Reader (gender neutral!)

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Innuendo, dbf!hotch (reader is an adult), brief mention of reader's parents (vague but they are Rich).

Tagging: @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat i think you two will like this <3

You can't hold back a smile as you dial Aaron's number from your parent's house phone. You twirl the cable around your finger as you glance around the freshly cleaned kitchen. There's a chilled bottle of San Pellegrino on the counter, the glass sweating from the heat. It's so quiet that you can hear birds outside, no doubt eating some fallen fruit from the trees outside the kitchen.

"Hello, Aaron Hotchner speaking."

"Hey Aaron Hotchner speaking," you tease. "My car won't start. I know it's your first weekend off for a while, but is there any chance you could come over and help me fix it?"

"Hmm," He says playfully. "And how do I know this isn't some elaborate ploy to spend time with me?"

"Come see for yourself," You reply, smiling. "It just won't start."

"Mhm," He agrees, and you can hear the humour in his tone. "And I suppose you can't just use daddy's Bentley?"

"Daddy doesn't drive a Bentley," You reply seamlessly.

Aaron's stumped for a second, and the line goes silent. "I thought he just bought a new one? A silver Continental?"

"Daddy drives a black Chevy Suburban," You say. (A/N: non-car besties: this is hotch's car <3)

Hotch clears his throat. "Baby, you can't just call me that."

"Aaron, please?" The playfulness has dropped out of your voice. "My car really won't start, and I'm supposed to meet my friend for tennis this afternoon."

"Of course," He replies. "Sorry, I thought you were just trying to convince me to come over."

"Would it be so terrible if I was?"

You feel a pat of guilt seep into your stomach, wondering if Aaron really did have more important things to do than attend to your car trouble.

"No," He adds, quickly. "I'd love to see you. Are you home alone?"

"My parents are in the Seychelles."

"Ah. So not home for dinner, I take it?"

You shake your head out of habit, then say no.

_______

When Aaron's black Chevy pulls up into your driveway, you come out onto the balcony and wave, then rush down the stairs to meet him. Sure enough, he sees your Corvette parked next to your dad's silver Continental.

"So you do have the Bentley," He teases, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist.

You kiss both his cheeks. "It's so good to see you."

"Well, you know why it's been so long," He sighs, caressing your cheek.

You look him over, his casual outfit throwing you off a little: dark blue Lacoste polo, straight-leg jeans, New Balance 574s. It was so different from his typical suit and tie, more dangerous somehow. Where you normally saw yourself as a paramour, sneaking in moments after work with your suit-clad lover, this felt more... ordinary. Like he was picking you up for a day of shopping, or to travel down to the yacht club. Like he might join you for tennis later. You tried to push the thought out of your mind, and to quell the fondness blooming in your chest.

"New York called, and I had to answer," You reply airily. "And you've been busy on cases, so it's not all my fault." You poke him squarely in the chest, and he smiles at the gesture.

"Alright, where's this car trouble you were telling me about?"

You lead him over to the spacious garage.

You slip into the driver's seat and turn the key. The car gives a few revs, then falls back into silence. You do it again for good measure.

"Let me try," Aaron says, leaning through the window.

He reaches into the car, turning the key himself. Sure enough, it doesn't start.

"Does your dad keep a set of car tools around in here somewhere?" He looks around.

You roll your eyes. "I have a set. I might be young and beautiful and wealthy, and young, and wealthy, and beautiful," You emphasize the repeated words, giving him a pointed look. "-but I'm not completely incompetent."

"Of course not, honey," He coos soothingly. "Are they in the back?"

You nod.

He walks around your car, and you watch him go in the side mirror, enjoying your view of his cute little ass in those jeans.

You hear his typical high laughter as he finds the tool set. When he walks around to the driver's side again, you smile innocently.

"What?"

He nods for you to get out, and holds up your tool set.

"The Swarovski crystals are a nice touch," He laughs. "And the pink."

"What? I can't have a cute little tool set to go with my cute little car?"

He rolls his eyes at you, but his grin tells you it's not with any real menace.

You hop out of the car and open the hood, leaning in just enough that you know your shorts will be showing off your assets.

"It's hot," You mention innocuously, and pull off your tank top, tossing it aside without looking back at him.

You hear Hotch take a deep inhale from directly behind you. "It is," he replies.

When you turn around, he's taken his own shirt off. There's just a small patch of chest hair, but the droplets of sweat are just glowing. He's as fit as ever, and you can't help yourself, you reach out and touch his chest.

"What are you doing?" He murmurs. "What about the neighbours?"

You pull away then, and look from side to side. "Aaron, do you seriously think we're close enough to any other houses that anyone will be able to see anything? It's like your place," You say, starting to run your hands down his abdomen. "And I'm sure you remember all of the mischief we..."

"4th of July weekend," He finishes. "I remember."

"You normally don't need much convincing," You say softly. "Is everything okay?"

He nods. "I'm just focused on trying to fix your car so you can go to tennis later. I promise, if we had a bit more time, I'd be all over you."

You smile at that. "Do you have time?"

Aaron leans in and nips at your earlobe. "I would've invited you over today to catch up. I was trying to come up with an excuse," He kisses your neck, "-when you called."

You catch his jaw in your hand and glance at his lips until you're sure he's caught you looking. His lips part, and his breathing turns slow and deep. That's all the encouragement you need, and you kiss him.

Your lips are soft and slow against his own. Immediately, his hands settle on your hips, ever the gentleman, not wanting to go straight for your ass. He does, however, nudge your legs apart so he can slot his thigh between them.

Whining softly, you rub yourself against his thigh.

"Can I be honest?" You gasp as he angles his knee just right, sending hot pleasure through your veins.

"Go ahead," He says coolly.

"I broke the car just so I could watch you come and fix it," You whisper.

Aaron smiles at the fact that you were also trying to come up with some excuse to see him, then his expression lapses into one of sympathy. "Oh, baby. You could've just called. You know I'll come running."

You press your face into his neck, embarrassed by how desperate you were to see him. It wasn't the fact that you wanted him that worried you. Any reasonable person would want him. He was tall, handsome, and had a dick the size of Saturn. No, it was your need that worried you. The deep-seated longing that settled onto you like dust whenever you didn't see him. Sure, you'd been having a great time in New York, meeting people, buying art, hanging out with your best friends, but it was hollow without him. More than once you'd thought of calling him on the hotel phone, letting his deep, calm voice lull you to sleep. You always felt your best when you were around him, like he drew out your best attributes in the same way that a perfect wine would match the meal, note for note.

"You smell so good," You breathe. "I want you all over me."

"We should fix your car first, or call a tow truck. I don't want you to be stranded," He said, stroking your hair.

You shake your head, a small laugh passing your lips.

"It's not that serious. Watch."

You turn your attention to the hood, and after a few minutes, you're in the driver's seat, starting your car as normal.

Aaron quirked his brow at you. "How did you do that?"

"I disconnected the starter relay earlier," You call, then walk back over to Aaron so you can show him. You open the hood again, then show him the plastic box where you can remove the relay from.

"It even has a little diagram showing you how to take it out," You point out, laughing to yourself.

"Right," Aaron replies. "And where exactly would someone like you learn how to do that?"

"Someone like me goes to a lot of parties. Nothing convinces a bunch of wasted rich kids not to drive quite like not being able to start their Lambos."

You can tell the way that Aaron's looking at you, so you don't look over at him.

"Don't do that," You mumble.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that. Don't give me brownie points just for not being a total asshole."

Aaron sighs lightly. "Okay. But for the record, I think saving lives like that is commendable. Even if they're just 'wasted rich kids'."

"Alright," You say, closing the hood, trying to lighten the mood. "Do you want anything? Lemonade, coke?"

"I'm never sure if you're offering soda or something I could get in trouble for," He teases, catching your hand in his own as he follows you up the stairs to the house.

"Well, I'm sure my dad does have coke in the study, but if you're only looking for trouble," You pause in front of the door, turning around with a wide smile and your arms raised. "I'm right here."

"What about the tennis?" Aaron's already running his hands over your chest, nudging you through the doorway, towards the pool.

You grin. "She'll just have to play singles."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner/reader #criminal minds #fanfic #reader insert #dbf!aaron hotchner #dbf!hotch #my writing #hotch x reader #hotch/reader

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ultrone · 1 year ago

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what music do you think Jackie would listen to…?

very random playlist i know lmaooo i hope it’s at least a bit accurate. i tried to stick to before the 2000s as much as i could 🫡

Gwen Stefani/No Doubt for sure. I feel like she’d specifically love “Cool” by Gwen

I Touch Myself by Divinyls

Crush by Jennifer Paige

Fastlove, Pt. 1 by George Michael

The Cranberries (influenced by Shauna 🤔)

The King of Wishful Thinking by Go West (she got obsessed with it after watching Pretty Woman)

Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer

Back For Good by Take That

Some songs by Fleetwood Mac & Stevie Nicks, like Sable on Blond, I Don't Want to Know, Edge of Seventeen, Only over You…

Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) by Kate Bush

Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley

Madonna

Waterfalls by TLC

Right Here - Human Nature Radio Mix by SWV

Living On My Own - No More Brothers Radio Mix by Freddie Mercury

I feel like she’d also be lowkey into Country 😭

Shania Twain

Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus

Jolene by Dolly Parton

Amber by 311

Baby, I Love Your Way by Big Mountain

Angel by Shaggy, Rayvon

The Sign by Ace of Base (medicated Lottie got her into it)

Had a hanson phase lmaoooo 🧐

Torn by Natalie Imbruglia

Bitch by Meredith Brooks (she’d sing/yell this one in Shauna’s car)

I Try by Macy Gray

Girlfriend in a Coma by The Smiths

Alanis Morissette

There She Goes by The La’s

Two Princes by Spin Doctors

You Get What You Give by New Radicals

Fast Car by Tracy Chapman (I feel like Shauna would overplay it while driving)

Be My Baby by The Ronettes

Duran Duran

Bon Jovi

Fantasy by Mariah Carey

Genie in a Bottle by Christina Aguilera

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

Livin' la Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

Savage Garden

Uptown Girl by Westlife

Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

Summer Of ‘69 by Bryan Adams

The Power Of Love by Frankie Goes To Hollywood

Hero by Enrique Iglesias

Whitney Houston’s top hits

Let’s Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams

Some Aerosmith songs, like Crazy & I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s In His Kiss) & One by One by Cher

I Love You Always Forever by Donna Lewis

Black or White by Michael Jackson

Accidentally in Love by Counting Crows (from the Shrek 2 soundtrack 😭)

Alone & These Dreams by Heart

I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany

More Than a Feeling by Boston

What’s Love Got to Do with It by Tina Turner

Close to Me by The Cure

Blue (Da Ba Dee) by Eiffel 65 ☠️

Endless Love by Luther Vandross, Mariah Carey

Be My Baby & Divine idylle by Vanessa Paradis

Smile by Lily Allen

I’m Gonna Miss You by Milli Vanilli

Conga by Gloria Estefan 🤣

New Kids On The Block

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds

Queen

Hey Ya! by Outkast

Dreaming Of You by Selena

extra… songs she’d listen to if she spoke spanish or was latina cuz i’m mexican and i’ve been thinkin abt this 🙂‍↕️

Tu Dama De Hierro by Marisela

Belanova, especially Rosa Pastel, Me Pregunto, and Cada que…

Formas de Amor by Calo

Mi Media Naranja by Fey

Bazar & No Controles by Flans

Gracias A Dios by Thalia

La Ventanita by Garibaldi

Ahora Te Puedes Marchar by Luis Miguel

Cuando Calienta El Sol by Luis Miguel

Mírala, Míralo by Alejandra Guzman

Virgen de las Vírgenes by Gloria Trevi

Ni Una Sola Palabra by Paulina Rubio

No Puedo Olvidarme Ti by MDO

La Calle de las Sirenas by Kabah

Enamoradísimo by Mercurio

Veneno by Ragazzi

Dile Que la Amo by Kairo

Hombres G

Oye Mi Amor by Maná

Rica y Apretadita (feat. Anayka) by El General

Moriré by La Factoria

Enloquéceme & Shabadabada by OV7

Timbiriche

Amante Bandido by Miguel Bosé

Alejandro Sanz

#jackie taylor thoughts #yjs thoughts #yellowjackets thoughts #jackie taylor #yellowjackets #jackie taylor headcanons

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starlightsearches · 2 months ago

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star!! hello!! ☺️

I have been once again thinking about the arranged marriage au (frankly, I'm often thinking of the arranged marriage au lmao) and I also saw your post from yesterday (👀👀) so I thought I'd send in a question that I've been meaning to ask you for a while if that's okay!

my question is: how do you think the other officers (esp. like the older imperials) reacted to Hux marrying RC? were they like "wow finally he's doing something respectable?" or were they more like "yeah of course Hux would have to buy a wife?" or do they just not care at all? or did they have another reaction that I didn't think of?

and this is totally just if you have thoughts or if you want to answer - no pressure at all ever! 🥰🥰

and also, very unrelated to the question but still related to the arranged marriage au, I was listening to "uptown girl" by billy joel today (as one does lol) and I was thinking it's very Hux and his wife coded!! ☺️💕

okay that's all my random thoughts for today! ☺️ sending you love and wishing you strength to push through the last little bit until spring break!! 🥰🥰

Charlotte, my love!! I've missed seeing you on my dash 💖 I'm gonna ramble so I'll put my answers under the cut :0)

This is such a good question! I imagine that Hux probably had to share his plans in a meeting at some point, and the idea makes me laugh.

It would be some kind of strategy session or an update on progress made with certain allies—a semi-regular meeting that everybody dreads—and it's literally like Hux and a bunch of old-ass ex-imperials who make up the political arm of the Order, making vague threats and letting out barely concealed insults as they tick off agenda items and wait for the meeting to be over so they can all bitch in private.

Hux added something vague to the end of the agenda about a potential alliance and proceeds to sweat bullets throughout the whole meeting, certain that they can all smell the weakness on him, that they know. Lots of these men knew (and approved of) Brendol, and that's not something he can forget easily.

Hux manages to remain professional when he states his intentions to marry, claims it's all for the benefit of the Order (no other reason 👀), and he actually kind of sells it?

The ex-imperials are surprised, certainly, but also almost impressed. They're so used to butting heads with Hux, practically ripping their hair out because he's so stubborn and why can't he just see things their way?? Most of the men in that room were married for similar reasons, and they're honestly shocked he would do the smart thing for once.

It earns him a bit of grudging respect for a little while, but then they see him actually interact with RC after the marriage and they're like, "oops, our mistake. this guy is a total fuck-up 👍🏻."

In terms of the rest of the officers, there's so much comedic potential in Hux not telling anybody that he's gonna get married. I imagine that he put something benign in Mitaka's schedule on the day of the wedding about like "diplomatic visit" and when they get there Mitaka's like, "sir, this is a wedding," and Hux is like, "duh, I'm getting married."

I think opinions on the ship range from "what the fuck?" to "maybe he'll be less of an asshole if he's getting laid regularly." RC's initial experiences on the ship are . . . less-than-friendly.

Uptown Girl is a great Hux and wife song! It really is very strange for him to be around someone so soft and loving 🥰

Thanks for chatting with me, as always, my love!! I promise I will have new Hux and wife content for you to enjoy eventually!

#asks #star answers #charlotte tag

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coffeeandbatboys · 1 year ago

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Omg ok Uptown Girl with Jesse for the celebration! Congratulations my friend!

Seeeeeeesssss 🐍

Damn it you gave me a good one and I've been in Jesse feels lately so thank you!!!

warnings: reader is Padmé's senatorial aid, there's a creepy senator dude, Jesse to the rescue, Jesse sass.

Uptown Girl (Jesse x Fem!Reader)

You peek around you, eyes scanning the swarm of heads. No Republic cog. You frown.

Someone approaches and you nearly regurgitate your drink when you recognize the sharp features. Its the shady senator that you and Padmé often gossip about, and not in a good way.

"Evening, senator." You mutter, not bothering to use his name; especially since you don't even remember it.

He smiles, a sickly thing. "Evening Miss. Aren't you a fine vision."

You grimace at the comment.

"Thanks." You quip ingenuinely, hoping that he'll go away.

He doesn't. Instead, he keeps making comments that are getting you pretty uncomfortable.

You stiffen when he asks you to dance. You politely decline, but he is insistent.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Just one dance."

You physically recoil at the name, as if it's dripping with poison.

Before you can say anything, another voice cuts in.

"She said she doesn't want to dance with you."

You relax as familiar hands settle on your waist. Jesse is behind you, glaring at the offending senator who scoffs. He mutters something along the lines of 'kriffing meat droids', which makes your blood boil.

"She's no concern of yours, buckethead." The jeering voice calls. You match your lover's glare.

"And yet she's your concern? I don't think so buddy."

The senator's lips twitch into a snarl, but he shakes his head and stalks away.

Jesse is too busy asking if you're alright. You nod into his hand, which is cupping your cheek with such tenderness; One that's quite rare for an ARC trooper.

"My hero." You whisper, looking up into his eyes. They're soft and calm and filled with adoration.

You offer a soft smile and he does the same, taking your hand.

"Can I have this dance?"

You laugh a little. "Were gonna get caught if we do that, Jess."

He proceeds to look over your shoulder and have a silent conversation with your employer, comprised of a series of head tilts and nods. Padmé must give him permission, because he tugs your waist towards the exit.

"I swear, Jess. I'm jealous of your ability to communicate with her without saying a single kriffing word."

He rests his forehead against yours. "But I've only got eyes for you, Mesh'la."

You smirk. "Does that mean I'm yours?"

He hums a confirmation, lips tilting towards your own.

You close the gap between your mouths and savor the feeling of the kiss. His lips are surprisingly soft, moving perfectly with yours.

Your foreheads rest against each other again when you pull away, gently swaying to the rhythm of the music flowing outside. You notice that he's wearing dress grays, the fabric starched and hugging his body perfectly. Its criminal how this man can look good in anything.

"Do you want to go home or stay for a while?" He asks, hands resting on your waist.

You lean your head against his chest. "Home." You mumble.

He chuckles and pulls you into his side. "Then let's get going, Mesh'la."

#Jesse x reader #arc trooper jesse x reader #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper jesse #the clone wars #jesse tcw #tcw jesse #Arc trooper Jesse x fem!reader #Clone trooper Jesse x fem!reader #Coffee's 300 follower celebration #moots #Sees

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jtophat · 11 months ago

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My Ponyboy Curtis playlist because I love it, I listen to it quite frequently even when I’m not writing stuff involving him, and want to share it.

Fast Car- Tracy Chapman

Imagine- John Lennon

Dark Days- Punch Brothers

Mama Tried- Grateful Dead (The song is originally by Merle Haggard but I listen to the Grateful Dead version)

East Side of Sorrow- Zach Bryan

hope ur okay- Olivia Rodrigo

Renegades- X-Ambassadors

Everybody Wants To Rule The World- Tears For Fears

Boy In The Bubble- Alec Benjamin

Uptown Girl- Billy Joel

Everybody Knows- Sigrid

Friends In Low Places- Garth Brooks

Winter’s Come and Gone- Charles Wesley Godwin (Song originally by Gillian Welch but I feel like this version fits Ponyboy better)

teenage dream- Olivia Rodrigo

Youth- Daughter

Teenage Dirtbag- Wheatus

Friend of the Devil- Grateful Dead

You’re On Your Own Kid- Taylor Swift

Here Comes The Sun- The Beatles

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder- The Secret Sisters

My reason/analysis for each song is below:

Fast Car- I think the desperation for a better life but the cycle of how life can drag you down and make you live the same lives as the people is something that can relate to Pony. I feel like, deep down, he probably has a fear that things may not work out for him as well as people hope and that he may end up living the same kind of life as the rest of the people in his neighborhood which is why I also think it’s a great song to choose to have as the opener for the playlist. I know Luke Combs has a cover of this song and that it may be the more masculine take on it but I feel like the way Tracy Chapman sings it just has so much heart that it really works for Ponyboy. And plus, Tracy Chapman is my favorite artist so I had to go with her version.

Imagine- I think the song has a bit of a daydreamy kind of vibe that can represent how Ponyboy is described as having his head in the clouds. The song is also a call for peace and unity among people and asks them to imagine a world where what divides them no longer exists which is something that I can see Ponyboy longing for.

Dark Days- The song is about how love getting people through difficult times which is something that I think really works for the Curtis brothers because no matter what they love each other and will do whatever they can to help each other, especially after their parents die.

Mama Tried- I think the song works really well for the vibe of the gang as a whole even if it’s something that may directly relate to Ponyboy. And even if Ponyboy doesn’t get into much trouble I’m sure that he gets into more than his mother would have wanted for him (especially after goes on the run for Bob’s murder)

East Side of Sorrow- I think there is so much about the song that relate to so many people in the story but I’ll try to keep my analysis limited to Ponyboy. I think while when song talks about fighting a war that you don’t even know what your fighting for works well for the metaphorical war between the Greasers and the Socs in the books. It’s been going on long before Pony and will continue long after him and no matter what he will never fully understand it even though he too participates in it. “I lost friends in the August heat” I feel really relates to Johnny and Dally’s death, because it was probably about that time that the book takes place. And when the song talks about losing someone in the waiting room and that the doctor did all the could it really brings home the point about Johnny’s death. The song then mentions walking around the Tulsa streets while feeling fucked up which represent Pony’s depression after the death of Johnny and Dally and how he was aimlessly going through life. I also like how the song specifically refers to the east, and of course the Greasers live on the East side of Tulsa. The song then also talks about the sunrise as a symbol of optimism for the future and the sun imagery really works for Ponyboy. After all, sunrises can’t really be that different than sunsets for him.

hope ur okay- I feel like this is how Ponyboy will look back on the people he knew in Tulsa once he finally moves away. I also like how the song references a towhead blonde which is also similar to how Ponyboy describes Dally.

Renegades- I feel like this song really works for Johnny and Pony running away from Tulsa. Even though it’s a bit optimistic for the events in the book, I still feel like it also works for their friendship too.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World- I feel like Ponyboy would really dig the instrumentals of the song and the references to well, people wanting to rule the world works for the story in an odd way that I can’t quite explain. But the vibe of it just really works

Boy In The Bubble- I feel like the beginning of the song is really reminiscent of how Ponyboy and the rest of the gang will get jumped by Socs but in the end where it discusses the home life of the person who attacked the singer represents Ponyboy gaining an understanding of how things are rough all over Tulsa and that even Socs have problems

Uptown Girl- I feel like once Ponyboy starts liking girls (if he does even like girls because I’m not entirely convinced that boy is straight) he would mainly have a thing for Soc girls. The song is about a lower class boy wanting to get with an upper class girl which is what I can see for Ponyboy in the future.

Everybody Knows- The Greasers have the cards stacked against them and everybody knows this, especially Ponyboy.

Friends In Low Places- I was debating between this and Heathens but this won because it’s country (I feel like the gang would really like country music) and the friends in low places is an obvious reference to the gang. I also think that in a way it shows how Ponyboy is out of place in his classes because he’s a Greaser and there are a lot of Socs in them.

Winter’s Come and Gone- I love the outdoorsy vibe of the song and think that Pony would too. I also like the lyrics “so long now I’ve been out in the rain in snow” because I think it can work as a really interesting way of portraying the gangs struggles and how Ponyboy doesn’t feel like he entirely fits in.

teenage dream- Ponyboy really hates it when people refer to him as being a kid which is a sentiment that I think this song shares. I also think it has a slight desperation to be taken seriously which is something that I also think that Ponyboy relates to.

Youth- It only loosely relates but has lyrics like “if you’re still breathing your the lucky ones” which in a way works because it shows that even things are tough, as long as you’re still alive you’re pretty lucky. Because, as we see in the novel, Greasers tend to die young so those of them who still able to keep on living are pretty lucky.

Teenage Dirtbag- I feel like the title of song is probably a bit about how Ponyboy feels about himself. I also think that song relates a bit to teen who are bit more into counter culture/ may get into a bit more trouble which I think works really well with Ponyboy.

Friend of the Devil- From the title alone I think it works. Ponyboy is friends with a lot of troubled people, and some of them, like Dally, some people probably consider a bit devilish. The song as a whole may not perfectly work with Ponyboy but I feel like the vibe of it does

You’re On Your Own Kid- I feel like this is really a Ponyboy in twenty years looking back at his life/childhood kind of song. And also shows how at the end of the day, and even though the gang wants to help him, the only person who is truly looking out for him is himself. He’s not like the rest of the gang. He’s on his own.

Here Comes The Sun- The song has a really optimistic tone has promises of a better future. It also has a lot of sun imagery

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder: The song is hopeful for a future that is better than the present. I think that is the kind of sentiment that Ponyboy holds onto throughout life, especially during his childhood. I think if he doesn’t develop that kind of outlook he will probably be depressed for most of his life.

Some my analysis for this stuff is better than others and not all songs directly relate to Ponyboy, or even the gang/Greasers, but I think the vibe for each song works.

#I don’t think anybody actually cares about this #but I do so I’m forcing it to exist in the universe #the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy michael curtis #the outsiders musical #johnny cade #sodapop curtis #the outsiders darry #darry curtis #dallas winston #dally winston #the outsiders dally

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a-libra-writes · 2 years ago

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I goofed this post alfksakfk (iykyk) so! Back to it. This is very fun to think of! also ignore my romeo + juliet indulgences

So, Asa's always been a fairly indulgent and lenient father. He hadn't minded your going off on dates, as long as you were home at a reasonable hour. Yes, you're an adult, but getting your own place was still out of the question unless you were staying at the dorms at college. He never had to worry about you, either. The boys were always the same; college boys, sons of the rich acquaintances in your family's circle, some newcomers at the country clubs. Always the same types.

He never thought his princess would even think of getting involved with gangsters and bootleggers. Asa kept that part of his life very separate from his family. Even if you knew, your mother hadn't a clue. She wasn't the one who'd go along with Asa to the Maribel Hotel for years. Initially you loved it because it meant going to a fun, exciting place with your father, and getting fawned over by the staff. Then it meant getting to see the Marigold Room.

"Listen," your father began gruffly. "I know what you girls get up to nowadays, but - if you're going to be dancing, best do it here. Stay with your friends and no funny business, understand?"

Always too permissive, not that you had a habit of raucous drinking and partying. Getting access to the Marigold Room made you something of a hot commodity at school now, and it led to something else: a cold, club-shaped metal pin being dropped in your palm.

That's how you met him. This too-skinny, too-smiley, too-chatty violinist who played at the Lackadaisy club. You nearly made him forget about the next performance.

You sought him out the next few visits, but it was just easier to meet outside the club. That was like going to the next step with Rocky. He wasn't just some guy you flirted with for a night, you actually wanted to take him on dates. You knew lots of places to take him, and there was just something so .. so cute about how earnest and endearing and affectionate he was. There was no stuck-up airs or obsession with this family or that or thinly veiled condescension. He wasn't dating you because that's what was expected. And while you had plenty of swanky cafes to take him, he had all sorts of places you'd never seen on the "other" side of town.

(There's so many stars once you drive a few miles outside of the city. You two fell asleep naming them and just talking... then woke up hours later in full panic. You snuck back into the dorms at the crack of dawn, covered in mosquito bites and beyond giddy.)

Uptown girl with downtrodden city boy cliche? Yes, absolutely. Neither of you cared.

News that Atlas May was shot frightened you. You'd heard it before reading it in the papers - well, overheard your father's shock as he talked to someone on the phone. Your first thought was some kind of police raid on the speakeasy, and if Rocky was hurt. Asa didn't want you going to the clubs after that, even the Marigold room. He seemed spooked. That was fine - you were seeing Rocky more in the daytime hours, anyway.

Right, your father still didn't know about him ... at least he was too distracted with work to notice your happy mood and the pep in your step lately. Your mother certainly did, and she was harder to avoid. She was so sure it was some college boy. "What's his name, sweetie, we can invite his family for dinner. Oh! Maybe have a lovely afternoon boating. Or brunch at the club, with the Robinsons? What do you think?" Honestly, you'd rather throw yourself from a window.

You'd heard about the troubles Rocky was having at the Lackadaisy, and a few times you asked why he just doesn't perform at the Marigold Room. Okay, you were half just saying that because you wanted to see him more, risky as it'd be. The other half is you were a little worried about some of the things he was getting up to. You noticed the scratches and dents in his car, and his own bruises and messy clothes.

(He'd never wear the clothes you bought him during these little bootlegging adventures, though. He didn't want to mess up the things you so lovingly picked out. They were also the only nice ones he had.)

On that topic, it's really fun to dress Rocky up. You aren't trying to be patronizing or act like he's a charity case, but - he just looks so nice cleaned up, and look, you can't take him to a nice cafe when he both looks and smells like he rolled in dirt (and ... syrup?). So, sure, you bought a shirt here and tie there and maybe a jacket and well obviously he needs pants to match that and it really means nothing that they just happen to fit so well, you definitely weren't measuring him when he was asleep or anything. Rocky isn't bothered by it at all, he loves the gifts and attention. And it kind of does something to him when you smooth out the creases and make sure the tie is straight and hook your arm around his and walk down the street, totally happy and proud of him, not embarrassed in the slightest.

You know he wouldn't fight it if you kept him some kind of dirty secret forever. It'd hurt him so much, of course, but Rocky would let you do it. You knew he'd just smile and pretend it was fine, like he does when you mention your parents keep trying to set you up with this hotshot lawyer's son. You see the flickers of disappointment and hurt when you joke about how your parents would kill you if they knew where you were right now, then he tries to cover it up.

Rocky deserves better, you know. And this really isn't a fun little fling anymore, is it? It's getting serious. He has so much love he's nearly bursting from it and you really, really don't want that to be ruined.

God, what are you going to tell your parents? "It's fine, he's only been a bootlegger for almost a year, before that he was a perfectly honest dirt-poor fiddler! We're disgustingly in love already and he's better than all those snob-nosed spineless trustfund bozos you keep setting me up with!" Yeah that'll go over Thanksgiving dinner just great.

As if fate's sense of humor couldn't get any better, it's Mordecai who finds out first. That shadowy, really unsettling (and actually kind of dorky ...?) gunman your father keeps around. Mordecai is good at remembering faces. When Asa introduced you two, he knew he remembered your's. He saw you once or twice at the Lackadaisy, though he hadn't known who you were at the time. You stood out because you were actually chatty with that ridiculous violinist, where most were exasperated with him.

Mordecai recalls that, and Asa idly complaining about his daughter always ditching the dates her mother set up for her, when he spots you and Rocky out and about. Broad daylight, not trying to hide, but certainly not where the more affluent friends and family of Asa's would go. You were even dressed down and weren't wearing any jewelry.

Yeah, he's not getting in the middle of this. Even as things heat up between the Marigold Gang and Lackadaisy.

Note, Rocky is very aware of who your family is. You never hid it back when you met him, and as far as he's concerned, you're the picture of innocence and can't be blamed for anything your father or the gang do. He's trying to be cute when he calls you 'princess' or 'my lady' and it is cute, but... you also feel kind of guilty. Reciting plays and poetry is fun and games until he brings up Romeo and Juliet again. It used to be romantic, but now it just claws at something in you. "Rocky, come on, you remember how that ends, right?"

(Oh, and there's a matter of keeping this all hush-hush from the Lackadaisy crew, who already know Rocky has a sweetheart because he can't shut up about you, but they don't know who you are exactly. It's best Mitzi or Viktor doesn't catch sight of you, because they'll spot the family resemblance right away..)

And then there's your father finding out. It had to happen eventually, especially with Lackadaisy getting in on the Marigold's suppliers. He makes it clear to Mordecai that if some accident were to happen to "that boy", then you're young, and you'd get over it. This is just some late teenage rebellion, he tells himself. A fling you'll forget all about once the excitement wears off and your school work picks up. Mordecai isn't so sure about that.

He actually tried to warn you about it, but the thing is ... Mordecai is Mordecai. He's staring intently and of course he cornered you as you were leaving the hotel at night and he's deadpan as he says, "I'd begin reconsidering your choice of paramours; there isn't any way that this will end well for him."

"Mordecai Heller, are you threatening me?"

"What? No?" He's startled by the tone of your voice. Did you just pull a knife on him? From your purse? "Put that down - I'm giving you practical advice."

"Oh. .... Maybe next time, don't do it in a creepy alley?"

It's like ice water drops on you when your father brings it up. He just lets out a heavy sigh, the most perfect cliche noise that says he's not mad, just disappointed. Right away you know he thinks this little dalliance has only been around for a few months, if that. "Really, pumpkin? What about that lawyer's son we told you about, he's not half bad looking. Or that rowing team captain, you remember him? He really took a shine to you. Look, I know a guy with a cousin whose son is--"

You get the whole lecture: You're too good of a girl to run around with unwashed gangsters and besides, what about your studies? Think about what your mother would say. Do you really want her finding out? Or the country club, or god forbid, her little society ladies? He'd be sleeping on the couch and you'd be in a nunnery. Some scrawny hoodlum isn't worth all that trouble, is he?

Asa doesn't raise his voice and actually get angry until you defend Rocky, until you actually say his name. He actually slams his fist on the desk, making the candy jars and his name plaque rattle. The conversation is done, so you leave. And of course you go straight to Rocky and don't come home on Sunday for the usual family brunch, or the next one. Your father makes excuses for you. It's little consolation, because you know exactly what the gangsters he employs are capable of. And you don't think for a minute they'll spare Rocky. Why couldn't he have just taken the job at the Marigold Room ...

Onto pleasanter things. One of the greatest nights in your life (so far) was the massive city charity gala that the Maribel Hotel hosted every year. It stopped being fun for you years ago, but this time you had a date. You told Rocky to leave it all to you. Yes, your dad was attending, but he was always off schmoozing with his associates. Besides - this year's theme was a masquerade, no gangsters would be there, it's crowded, and you had Rocky dressed to the nines. No one would notice! It'd be great. This was a little secret you'd been hiding for a month, you just knew he'd love all the music and the ridiculous fancy foods and you just wanted to share something magical with someone you loved. Because you were very, very sure you loved him.

And Rocky looked so handsome you just couldn't keep away from him, and you two danced and laughed at the prissy food and absurd people like you'd imagined. Anyway, it was cut short when you were nearly spotted by Mordecai - who looked wonderfully out of place without a mask and dressed like a funeral director, but you'd laugh about it later. You grabbed Rocky's hand and just ran, and bolting up the backrooms and stairwells of the hotel you knew so well.

Maybe you should have been deflated. A silly, childish desire for a fairytale evening came crashing down thanks to reality, even if you knew Mordecai wouldn't shoot Rocky dead. But it was hard to feel too disappointed when you both were still giddy and laughing, gleefully stealing 'hidden' champagne from the general manager's office and climbing your way up the rickety fire escape - even with your heels and his suit you spent way too much money on - and spending the rest of the evening making out and giggling and watching the city from high above.

#im a dumbdumb lol this is why you use notepad or google docs or smh not the tumblr app #anyway im sure anon didnt expect all THIIS but idgaf #this is so self indulgent and i am gigglinggggg i am happy #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader

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