#last was blind channel just this week

[because-its-eurovision]

my last three braincells

[theflyingfeeling]

Hi dear, so excited to see you doing Valentines promts again!

How about Olli/Allu having a very moomin date? 👀

Hiiiiii! I'm so excited to be writing these again! <3 Here it comes, my first Valentine's Day prompt fic of the season! ✨

First of all, I'm not sure if this is moominous enough for you, sweet anon, but I hope you like it nevertheless 💖

Second of all, this maaaaaaay have gotten a little out of hand, and not only in terms of the wordcount. You'll see what I'm talking about when you read it 🤭

It's kind of an AU, but nothing too specific, just your regular no-band AU in which Olli and Allu meet each other for the first time (in person). Again, read and find out 🙏

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words: 5708 (see? unnecesarily long 🙄 so you better make yourself a nice cup of something and just sit back for this one!)

rating: something between G and T, I guess 😅

trigger warnings: none, but prepare for a whole lot of pining and a bit of sillyness, as per usual 🥰

edit. now also on AO3 💖

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“Your Tinder date wants to take you where?”

Aleksi sighed as they stopped to wait for the traffic light to turn green.

“First of all, it’s not a date, and certainly not a Tinder one,” Aleksi corrected Niko for about the twelfth time that day. He still regretted telling his friend he was meeting this guy he had been chatting with on a discussion board almost daily for over a year. Too embarrassed to admit it was a platform for fantasy role play, Aleksi had seen it best to simply answer “online” when Niko had asked him how he had met Olli, which naturally had led to Niko promptly deciding “online” equalled a dating app. “Second of all, I don’t think he’s actually taking me to the Moomin Café, we’re only meeting there.”

“Of all the places in the city?” 

“It’s a recognizable landmark!” Aleksi exclaimed and proceeded to picture the two-metre Moomin statue that stood in front of the theme café dedicated to beloved literature characters. With a small smile forming on his lips, he then imagined his internet friend waiting for him beside it, hopefully wearing the cool leather jacket Aleksi had seen in pictures, and was almost left behind when Niko suddenly jaywalked across the street.

“Still,” his friend said when Aleksi strode to catch him up, “the place doesn’t exactly ooze romance.”

“I told you, it’s not–”

“Not a date? Then why on earth did you send me all those selfies of you posing in different outfits, asking for my opinion? I’ve never seen you want to impress anyone that bad without hoping to get in their Moomin sheets.”

“I’m not– wait, what?” Aleksi turned to look at Niko to see the man hardly able to hide his amusement.

“Well, since he’s taking you to a Moomin café I suppose he also has–”

“Just– just shut up, okay? Whatever he has in his bed is irrelevant because we are not–” Aleksi’s heart almost stopped when his eyes spotted the enormous Moomintroll down the boulevard and, indeed, a man he recognized as Olli standing next to it. To Aleksi’s mild disappointment, Olli wasn’t wearing the leather jacket but a simple outfit of black pants, a white t-shirt and what seemed to be a bucket hat on his head. He had a searching look in his eyes, stopping to glance at almost every passerby as his fingers fumbled with the zipper of the waist bag he was wearing across his chest.

“Is that him?” Niko whispered as they approached the front of the café.

“Y-yeah,” Aleksi said and cleared his throat, surprised to hear his own voice come out so hoarse and breathless, just because he caught a glimpse of his long-time internet friend for the first time in person.

All the way walking downtown, Aleksi had been annoyed by Niko’s insinuations about the date (which was not a date) with his online boyfriend (who was not his boyfriend), all the while trying to calm down the strange feeling in his stomach that he tried to explain with having drank too much coffee at breakfast (which he chalked up to barely having slept the previous night (because his head had been full of Olli and his rosy cheeks and gentle eyes until dawn, stuck in his mind after they had said goodnight to each other on Skype at two in the morning)). He had rolled his eyes at Niko’s merciless teasing, because there was no way he was going to admit he had been counting the days until they’d finally see each other face-to-face, sighing longingly or giggling into his pillow whenever he imagined even standing in front of Olli, mere metres away from all that charm and beauty that had Aleksi forget his lines during role play or smile to himself when he saw something that reminded him of Olli.

Maybe he’d even be bold enough to hug him. From Olli’s Instagram Aleksi had gathered Olli didn’t shy away from physical endearments, at least not with that curly-head blond Olli had told him was his best and oldest friend – “like a brother,” Olli had said, and Aleksi tried to ignore why hearing that had been such a relief – but of course Aleksi couldn’t know whether being physically affectionate applied only to Olli’s closest friends. He wouldn’t blame Olli for wanting to just nod at him from a respectful distance on their first meeting; he was still, all things considered, just some random dude he had started speaking with on the internet one blessed day.

They were roughly ten metres away from the entrance of the café when Olli finally noticed him. When their eyes met each other, the curve of Olli’s eyebrows softened and his lips parted, but then he directed his gaze to Niko walking next to Aleksi, and suddenly he looked just as lost and nervous as he had just moments before while he had been waiting for Aleksi to show up.

“Right, I guess this is where I leave you to it. If he turns out to be a serial killer or some other kinda lunatic, just give me a call and I’ll come rescue you, yeah?” Niko tapped Aleksi’s shoulder and skipped to the other side of the street before Aleksi could argue that he was pretty convinced Olli was neither of those things and that he wouldn't need to be rescued, thank you very much.

Aleksi saw Olli’s shoulders relax as he walked closer, then his lips starting to curve upwards. When there were only a few metres separating them, Olli glanced at the ground before looking up at Aleksi again, no longer able to hide his smile. 

“Hi,” Olli said softly and stretched out his arms towards Aleksi.

“Hi,” Aleksi sighed, and when Olli pulled him into a hug he was sure he was going to cry. Olli felt as soft as he looked and smelled even better than what Aleksi had imagined in his head, of honey and perhaps a hint of citrus. 

“So good to see you,” Olli said, much closer to Aleksi’s ear than he had anticipated, so close that it gave him goosebumps, even though in Olli’s embrace he felt warmer than he ever had in his life before.

“Yes, at last,” Aleksi agreed. All the sudden dopamine in his system made him so daring that he nudged the side of Olli’s head with his, causing the man’s hat to fall off. 

“Woops,” Olli laughed as he noticed the impact their embrace had on his headwear and finally let go of Aleksi.

“Sorry,” Aleksi smiled, crouching to pick up the hat. Handing it back to Olli, he noticed the Moomin character embroidered on it.

In his mind, he saw Niko raising his eyebrows knowingly.

“Shall we go in? They have an offer on cinnamon rolls today.”

Did I not tell you so? Aleksi heard Niko’s voice in his head. 

Yeah, and? Aleksi telepathically replied to his friend; with the way Olli was smiling at him, a little shy and his Groke bucket hat somewhat askew as he held the door to the café open for him, Aleksi would’ve walked through the gates of Hell if that’s where Olli wanted to take him.

Aleksi nearly gasped when Olli touched his lower black lightly as they entered the café, gently guiding him forward to the cosy coffee shop that filled Aleksi’s nostrils with the mixed aroma of brewed goods and freshly-baked bun. They didn’t say much as they stood in the queue to the counter, just sort of smiled at each other, and Aleksi wanted so much to pull Olli in for another hug or at least hold his hand a little.

“So, umm, who was that, by the way? The guy you came with,” Olli broke the silence between them. Aleksi was in a hurry to answer when he noticed Olli’s smile had begun to falter.

“Ah, that was just my friend Niko. He insisted on escorting me, like some sort of…chaperone. He once had a Grindr hook-up steal his sunglasses, so he doesn’t trust anyone he meets online anymore.”

(There was no point arguing with Niko that maybe he had just lost them himself, because why would someone run off with children’s heart-shaped sunglasses that were no use for anything, least of all for blocking the sun, as the lenses were glittery and tinted pink.)

“Oh, so he’s like Joonas,” Olli rolled his eyes. “I believe he’s sitting in that Starbucks on the other side of the street spying on us, in case you decide to brutally murder me in broad daylight.”

“I guess that just means they love us?” Aleksi shrugged amusedly. 

“I suppose so, but why they gotta be so weird about it?” Olli laughed and shook his head. His sunkissed curls swayed on his forehead, and Aleksi felt the same urge to sweep them off with his fingers (or with his lips maybe) that he had often felt when they had been laughing together at something silly via Skype. Olli probably noticed his dreamy expression, as he was soon to smile at the floor below their feet, an attractive blush spreading to his cheeks which looked even more velvety in real life.

It seemed they had winded up in the middle of the worst rush hour at the coffee shop, for it took them several minutes to reach the edge of the counter. When they finally did, Olli turned his back to Aleksi to get a tray from under it, revealing the illustration on the back of his shirt. Aleksi remembered having seen that exact t-shirt on Olli before, with the small text on the left side of his chest, so he was taken by surprise staring at the print of a mountain and a rainbow peeking from behind it.

“So, umm, do you come here often?” Aleksi asked, thinking it would be a less awkward conversation starter than “nice shirt”, which would’ve only revealed Aleksi had been checking out his backside (which was quite nice, there was no denying that), but then he realised how tacky the opening line he had gone for must have sounded; he had heard Niko hitting on unsuspecting guys and girls at the bar with that exact question every Friday night.

For that reason, Aleksi sighed in relief when Olli turned back to look at him with a small smile, neither embarrassed nor bothered by his corny (but accidental) pick-up line.

“Every now and then. Their muddler cake is heavenly,” Olli replied, then added in a lower voice: “although it is quite pricey.”

“Their what cake?”

“Muddler cake!” Olli beamed. “It’s like mud cake, but, you know…. Muddler,” Olli then pointed at the stack of Moomin mugs in front of them, his index finger directing Aleksi’s gaze to a purplish mug with a character wearing a saucepan for a hat.

“That’s a… muddler?”

“Yeah.” Olli’s grin was even wider when he picked the mug up and set it down on the tray. “And that’s his sweetheart, Fuzzy.” Olli showed Aleksi a pink mug with a character in a wedding gown decorating its side.

“Should I get that one then?” Aleksi smirked, hoping the flirt (this time intentional) would not go unnoticed by the other man.

“Actually I have something else in mind for you, hold on…”

Aleksi watched as Olli eyed the collection of mugs in different colours until his finger stopped at another one of purple colour. Aleksi couldn’t pride himself on knowing a whole lot about Moomins, but even he could identify the character on this one as Hemulen, the philatelist friend of the Moomin family.

“Hemulen? Care to tell me why?” Aleksi inquired, squinting his eyes at Olli, whose smile went from ear to ear by then.

“Well, you know, ‘cause he’s… bald. Like you.” The restrained laughter was obvious in Olli’s voice.

“You’re comparing my appearance to that of a hemulen?! I could so easily be offended, you know. I thought we had moved on from the bald jokes by now.” Aleksi sniffed dramatically, although he could no longer force back his own smile. He had gotten used to his friends ridiculing his new haircut weeks ago already.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. To be fair, you look nothing alike: at least Hemulen has some hair on his head.”

“You better be paying for those overpriced muddler cakes,” Aleksi muttered, pretending to appear insulted but failing horribly, judging by Olli’s heartfelt giggles. 

“Oh, that goes without saying. You can actually go and find us a table, I’ll order and pay.”

Aleksi left Olli at the counter and hurried to claim the window table for two that had just become vacant. He gently removed the Moominpappa plushie that was sitting on the other seat and put it on the windowsill. While Olli was making their order of muddler cake and possibly some other Moomin-themed treats, Aleksi stared out the window to watch the people passing by, although he hardly registered anything he was seeing.

He had been too nervous to confess his feelings to Olli via web camera, too afraid of rejection, too anxious when thinking about the possibility of Olli laughing it off instead of returning his feelings. Many times he had broken his own heart by imagining how Olli would’ve been outraged by Aleksi claiming to have a crush on him when they had never hung out in person, or how Aleksi would make it awkward by having assumed Olli was into guys when they had never really had that talk. It wasn’t long ago since Aleksi had come out of the closet to his family and closest friends, so he was still a little cautious about who he confided in and was yet to figure out how to bring it up in a casual conversation without being too blunt or clumsy about it, but he had tried dropping subtle hints along the way. While he wasn’t sure of Olli’s orientation yet, he couldn’t help but hope that the lingering looks and the rainbow on his shirt meant something.

Before Aleksi could allow his mind to wander too far from his current reality, Olli appeared opposite him with a soft oof as he set the tray on the table between them. On two plates there were pieces of the alleged muddler cake, and on a third there was a large cinnamon roll for them to share, Aleksi assumed. The Moomin mugs Olli had chosen for them were now filled, with Moomin characters drawn on the creamy topping. Aleksi noticed one of them had a small heart next to Moomintroll’s head, a detail the beverage Olli claimed for himself was missing.

He mentally added it to the list of Possible Signs He Likes Me Too (But Let’s Not Get Our Hopes Up). 

“Mmmmh,” Olli hummed when he sipped his coffee. The cream left a small white line above Olli’s upper lip, on the tufts of facial hair he was sporting there. The sight was too adorable for Aleksi to say anything about it.

“It’s so nice to finally hang out,” he said instead.

“It really is,” Olli agreed. “And to think we live so close to each other, what took us so long?” he chuckled into his cup, making the cream on top of it waver.

“I know, right?” Aleksi chuckled back, albeit knowing exactly why, at least on his part: he had been scared of appearing too eager or too creepy or too anything to suggest they meet face-to-face, until Olli himself had brought it up the other day.

He had to take a sip from his own mug to gain more courage for what he was about to say next.

“You know, I… I’ve been looking forward to this ever since we made the plans. I really enjoy your company.”

Olli stopped forking his chocolate cake to look into Aleksi’s eyes, his features so soft and endearing Aleksi wanted to lean over the table and snog him silly already.

“Me too,” Olli replied, and suddenly it wasn’t only the coffee warming up Aleksi’s insides. “In fact, I…” Olli laughed shortly and turned to admire the pastry on his plate again, “I’ve been so excited I’ve hardly slept lately.”

“Oh,” Aleksi said, because oh. “I mean, you too?”

“Yeah,” Olli laughed bashfully, and there was clearly something extremely interesting in his muddler cake, as his gaze was nailed to the plate. “I can only hope my poor neighbour downstairs hasn’t made a complaint about me for stomping around in the middle of the night.”

The image of Olli pacing back and forth his living room with an expression not unlike the one Aleksi had seen on his face outside the café, just because he was too thrilled about their date-that-was-not-a-date, made Aleksi fall for the man even harder, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. As far as Aleksi knew, no one had ever felt that way about seeing him before, or at least no one had ever confessed it to his face.

“Well. Now we’re here,” Aleksi smiled at the man, almost crossing his fingers under the table in a prayer for Olli to look up at him again and make him feel those sweet little butterflies in his stomach once more.

His wish was granted when Olli did exactly that, his smile cuter than ever, if that was even possible.

“Yes. Here we are.”

After the sort-of confessions and the slight awkwardness was over and done with, their still-not-a-date-but-kinda-starting-to-look-like-one advance more relaxedly as they moved on to talk about the topics they usually discussed, from music to sci-fi movies to their favourite show wrestlers, until both their mugs were empty and there was nothing but crumbs left on their plates. They had spent over an hour just chattering away, but then Olli glanced at his watch and the approach of their inevitable parting began to hollow out Aleksi’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I’ve kept you to myself for too long, you must have other things to do today,” Aleksi said, although he would’ve done anything to keep Olli to himself just a little longer.

“I don’t, actually. Nothing but a pile of laundry waiting for me at home,” Olli answered as they stood up. The black bucket hat Olli put back on his curly head had seemed a little silly to Aleksi at first, but now he wished he wouldn’t have to let it out of his sight. “What about you? Any plans for the evening?”

“No, not really. But I should be going back home soon, or else Rilla will sulk at me for the rest of the day.”

Olli’s eyes brightened at the mention of the dog. “Oh, Rilla! I wish I could meet her too one day, I always love it when you show her on Skype.”

A wild thought popped up in Aleksi’s head; a silly, unimaginable, and completely absurd thought, but he decided to give it a try anyway.

(Niko wouldn’t have to know.)

“Why don’t you come and meet her now? My place is only a short bus drive away. That is, if you think your pile of laundry can wait a little longer still.”

The Groke hat did an excellent job at shading half of Olli’s face when they stepped outside in the sun, but Aleksi could still make out the smile sneaking on Olli’s lips, slowly but surely.

“I suppose the dirty socks won’t miss me too much.”

~

Niko would be disappointed if he knew, Aleksi thought to himself almost the first thing he opened his eyes the next morning.

Almost, because his first thought had been how cute Olli’s little snores sounded next to him.

His second thought had been how soft Olli’s hair looked, dishevelled and covering his eyes, before Aleksi had reached his hand to sink his fingers in it to discover it was exactly as soft as it looked.

And his third thought had been how enticing Olli’s lips were, how heavenly they had felt against his own the night before, how he couldn’t wait until Olli woke up so he could get a taste of them again.

Then, maybe as his fourth thought of the day, he could spare one for his poor friend, who only wanted the best for him. However, considering Olli was yet to show his homicidal tendencies by stabbing him with a kitchen knife, ransacking his entire house and kidnapping Rilla, Aleksi allowed himself to bask in the knowledge that Niko had been wrong, for once in his life.

They had entered the house with Rilla barking at Olli and Olli awwing at Rilla, until they had come to a mutual agreement of liking each other a lot, or so Aleksi gathered by the way they had later that evening snuggled on Aleksi’s sofa, almost making him feel like the third wheel. Aleksi had cooked them pasta for dinner and they had walked Rilla at sunset, admiring the colour of the horizon and finally holding hands when they had turned back home at the end of Aleksi’s street. Glasses of red wine had been poured and long, yearning looks had been exchanged as they had sat around Aleksi’s kitchen table until the wee hours, talking and laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company, after months of wanting to do nothing but that, but somehow both of them being too afraid to make the first move, as Aleksi had figured by then. 

Olli had already been on his way to the front door, out of Aleksi’s desperate reach, but something had stopped him, had made him stay, made him linger in Aleksi’s touch when they had hugged one last time. 

Aleksi’s breath had caught up in his throat and all his thoughts had fallen out of his useless head when Olli had glanced at his lips once, twice, perhaps a third time if Aleksi had given him the chance before bringing his own to Olli’s; he could no longer stand just imagining what kissing Olli would be like.

Now he knew; soft and delicate at first, almost hesitant, until Olli would wrap his arms firmly around Aleksi’s body and devour him, push himself even closer to Aleksi, despite the fact they were already pressed tightly together, skin on skin, mouth to mouth, heart to heart.

The bed had creaked when they had fallen on it, but soon after the room had been filled with entirely different kinds of sounds. If Aleksi wasn’t still flying high on the euphoria he had felt then, he might have been embarrassed about how needy he must have sounded. Instead, he was comforted by finally being sure Olli shared his sentiments, needed him close just as much as he needed Olli. Aleksi almost laughed out loud when he thought back to all that pining and wondering he had gone through over the past months, blind to the fact it had all been mutual; that Olli had felt exactly the same all along. 

Now, with the dawn already greeting them behind the curtains of Aleksi’s bedroom, Aleksi smiled as his unexpected (but oh so desired) overnight guest shifted beside him, nuzzling his cheek against the pillow. 

“Are you awake yet?” Aleksi asked him.

“Mmmmmmmhhhh,” Olli groaned in a way that sure awoke certain places of Aleksi’s body. “Maybe.” Olli’s speech was muffled by the pillow.

“Well, I suppose you’ll let me know when you’re awake enough to continue where we left off last night. I’m kinda missing those lips of yours, you know.”

Said lips then curved into a lazy grin (and almost burst Aleksi’s heart with bliss when doing so).

“C’mere then,” the lips mumbled, and Aleksi didn’t need to be told twice.

His plan of spending the morning in bed uninterrupted was threatened, however, when he heard a quiet ping from his bedside table.

Accompanied by loud objections from Olli below him, Aleksi reached for his phone to find a notification from a new WhatsApp message from Niko.

How did the Tinder date go? Please answer or I’ll assume you’re lying dead in a dumpster.

Aleksi giggled while writing his reply, with Olli peppering his chest with small kisses.

It was… Moominous 😏

Then Aleksi put his phone on silent, leaving Niko to wonder what ever he meant by that, and turned his attention back to something a little more urgent.

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[Meanwhile at the Starbucks across the street:]

The moment he stepped in the coffee shop and saw the man sitting by the window, Niko recognized him immediately; the bright blonde curls, the expressive blue eyes, and the plump red lips that were now pursed around a straw instead of Niko’s dick. The man was even wearing the same DIY style jean jacket he had thrown on the floor of Niko’s bedroom when they had made haste to undress each other on that steamy summer evening some weeks ago. The name scribbled on the plastic cup he was holding also matched the one imprinted on Niko’s memory.

On his forehead, half buried in the fluff of messy curls, Niko spotted a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses.

“You!” Niko gnarled at Joonas, who slowly moved his gaze from the window to Niko’s direction.

“Huh?”

“Thief!” Niko spat once he was standing next to Joonas’ table. It appeared seeing the man again after that night triggered something in him that resulted in only being able to form single-word sentences.

“Excuse me?” The way Joonas squinted his eyes told Niko his face didn’t ring a bell to him.

“Those are mine!” He pointed at the sunglasses resting on Joonas’ locks.

“Ummm, no they’re not? Also, who are you again?”

Niko clenched his fists; the audacity of this man, first for taking possession of his property, and secondly for not even remembering “the best cock he had ever had”.

“Those are my sunglasses that you stole from me after you… you know, after we…” Niko was hesitant to continue, nodding politely at the couple with two young kids in the next table following the scene with disapproval written on their faces.

“...After you ran away from wherever they were keeping you and you mistook me for someone else?” Joonas offered unhelpfully, a mix of confusion and amusement gleaming in his big, annoyingly alluring eyes.

Pure spite had Niko leaning in to whisper in Joonas’ ear.

“Don’t you dare pretend you don’t remember me when I milked you so good you probably couldn’t remember your own mother’s name for days afterwards.”

Niko closed his eyes and bit his lip when he felt Joonas’ hot breath in his ear, memories of their night together coming rushing back and going straight to his groin.

“Bold of you to assume that doesn’t happen to me every Saturday night.”

“You are unbelievable,” Niko growled back before standing up. “I’m afraid that makes little difference though. I’m here to collect back what’s mine, whether you plead guilty or not.” He straightened his hand towards Joonas as a request to be handed back his stolen possessions.

“Wait, are you actually being serious? You really think I’ve taken your sunglasses?”

“I know you’ve taken them!”

“I’ve never met you in my life, you madman!” Joonas insisted with creases on his forehead as he stood up and headed to the door. Niko followed him outside, not wanting to let those sunglasses out of his sight again.

“I don’t know what you were on that night to have been blessed with such a severe amnesia, but we have met before!”

“May I inquire where or when you think that happened?” Joonas’  lopsided grin was just as charming as the first time Niko had seen it. It made him furious.

“A couple of weeks ago. At that new LGBTQ club. After… after you DMed me on Grindr.”

“The Queer Room?” Joonas appeared to be racking his brain for a moment, then he shrugged. “Sorry, honey. I can’t say you’re the first guy with whom I’ve been palling around there.”

Joonas’s face looked genuinely apologetic, which made Niko wonder if he really was as clueless as he seemed, or whether he himself had imagined the whole encounter in his daydreams.

Still, it didn’t solve the mystery of his missing sunglasses, the sunglasses he was sure were the exact same ones the blond guy was now lowering on his nose.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to refresh my memory,” Joonas flashed that awful, sly, stunning smile of his again. 

“You wish.”

“Suit yourself,” Joonas shrugged again. “See you later, strange sunglass gu–”

Niko was livid at himself, for letting himself be bullied to take such desperate measures, but the deeper he stuck his tongue down Joonas’ luscious mouth, the more of it he wanted, had wanted since Joonas had sloppily kissed him goodbye before stumbling out of his bedroom.

They were both a little breathless when they broke the kiss. It took a while for Niko to realise Joonas was still holding Niko’s lower lip in between his teeth, until the man sucked on them one more time before letting Niko go. Niko’s own fists were still gripping the collar of Joonas’ jean jacket tightly.

“Wow. I can’t believe you actually gave in.”

…Wait.

“What?!”

“And I can’t believe you fell for that? Man, the Theatre Academy has no idea what they missed when they rejected me,” Joonas chuckled, wiping his mouth.

“You–” Niko let go of the man to inhale and exhale a few times before continuing, “you do remember me.”

Joonas tilted his head. “Oh, babes, I saw you bounce across the street before you walked in.” Then he lifted his hand to touch Niko’s chin. “I was instantly reminded of the night we shared.”

“Yet you have no memory of committing a theft?” Niko crossed his arms on his chest and lifted his chin to meet Joonas’ stare.

“That I genuinely don’t, because it never happened. Maybe this is just your subconscious telling you you miss me…”

“Oh, fuck off,” Niko snapped, trying to ignore Joonas’ hand sneaking on his hip. “The only thing I’m missing from that night are my fucking sunglasses!”

His outburst made Joonas sigh and roll his eyes. “Clearly you are not ready to consider the possibility we might own identical ones and that yours are just somewhere in your car or apartment.”

“Clearly you’re not ready to admit you mistook those as yours and just took them without asking!”

“Look,” Joonas moved his hand on Niko’s shoulder, “we could do this the whole day. Let’s just go to your apartment and–”

“So that you can steal more of my property?!”

“–AND I will help you find your stupid sunglasses! Since they’re so goddamn important to you.”

The thing was, they weren’t even particularly dear to Niko; in fact, they were more or less a kids’ toy, something he had bought as a joke when tipsy from margaritas, and pretty much useless if you needed something to shade your eyes from the sun. It was more about principle and dignity than anything else. (Tommi had not stopped giving him shit ever since Niko had told him about the incident.)

“And also to prove my innocence,” Joonas added, his lips pouting.

“Something tells me you haven’t been innocent since you came out of your mother’s–”

“You leave my mom out of this!” Joonas yelled at him from behind him when Niko began walking towards the bus stop. He made sure to wipe his smile off by the time Joonas caught him up.

~

“Where have you seen them last?” Joonas asked. They had been rummaging through Niko’s two-room for nearly ten minutes, and still the only pair of heart-shaped sunglasses they had seen were the ones sitting on Joonas’ head.

“On that chair in the hallway. Where you took them from.”

“Oh, just drop it already,” Joonas frowned. “You do realise I have things to do and places to be, yet I’m here helping you put your mind at ease about this puzzle, out of the pure kindness of my heart?”

The remark made Niko’s mouth snap shut. If (if!) Joonas was being truthful and knew nothing about Niko’s glasses, it truly was rather considerate of him to be there with Niko, turning his apartment upside down in search of the cursed piece of accessory, even if he also had his own reputation at stake.

“Well, they’re not under the sofa cushions either,” Joonas sighed and threw them back on the couch before slumping on them himself. “Is there a place we still haven’t looked?”

“I doubt they’re in the oven or in the bathroom sink cabin.”

“Oh, I’d check those too if I were you, just to be sure. You don’t wanna know where my friend Olli once found his phone after an unusually wet night out.”

Joonas’ anecdotes, as intriguing as they were, were of little help in their current task, so Niko decided he’s better off not knowing indeed.

“Did you check all your pockets yet? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve panicked, thinking my wallet’s been stolen when I had just forgotten it in the breast pocket of another jacket.”

“They’re not in my pockets.”

“Did you check though?”

Niko groaned at Joonas’ persistent eyebrow raise, but turned on his heels nevertheless. Once in the doorway, he started groping the jackets and shirts hanging from the coat rack.

“They’re not in my pockets, because I never put them in my–”

His hand touched something hard inside his grey hoodie, making him freeze.

Because he never did put his sunglasses in his pocket, not since his new Ray Bans had dropped on the pavement and broken into pieces. However, there they were, as if by some miracle, even though Niko could’ve sworn over his 00s nü metal CD collection that he had not put them there.

Or… maybe he had? His brain was too confused to make any sense of the situation.

“Oh, hey, you found them!” Joonas rejoiced as he joined Niko in the dim hallway. “Well, looks like you owe me an apology.”

The smile on Joonas’ lips was sweet as ever, and Niko couldn’t wait to wipe it off.

“Oh, I‘ll show you an apology,” he murmured and began pushing Joonas towards the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s notes:

Aaaaahh it’s been a while since I last wrote an “after-credits” scene 🥰

I wanted to include Aleksi’s Moomin sheets somehow but I couldn’t think of a convenient way to do that (i.e. I didn’t want to make the fic any longer than it already was), so you’re just gonna have to do the job yourself and imagine they woke up in Aleksi’s Moomin sheets 💕

Muddler / Fuzzy / Hemulen (the new Hemulen one looks so nice 😍)

Moomin coffee art

The Moomin Café referenced here is partly a product of my imagination. The only Moomin café in Finland at the moment is at the Helsinki-Vantaa international airport. There used to be one in Helsinki but it was closed during the covid lockdown and from what I've heard/seen, they did have Moomin mugs (duh!), gigantic cinnamon rolls, and Moomin plushies that you could position on the chairs to keep you company (I never had the chance to go there 😔). I assume the Moominworld theme park in Naantali also has some kinda Moomin café (I’ve never been there either :\)

Muddler cake -> not a thing, I completely made that one up 😂 It’s ridiculous, I know, but I just couldn’t help myself with the word play!

...Sooooo, did the incident with the heart-shaped sunglasses go as told here, or did Joonas actually take Niko’s by accident, not realising this until he was at home, and then proceeded to keep them with him at all times in case he’d run into Niko again (let’s assume they hadn’t exchanged numbers and Niko had been so outraged about his stolen sunglasses that he had deleted Grindr) and then just put them in Niko’s pocket when Niko wasn’t looking, because why should he just admit he had taken them, especially with Niko storming in the Starbucks accusing him of theft, when he could play with Niko a little instead? Who knows 😏)

[eternally-racing]

sleep tight | lando norris

pairing: lando x reader

genre: fluff, a smidge of angst maybe

wc: 1.3k

summary: As the summer break comes to an end, Lando needs your help when he just can’t fall asleep.

_ _ _ _ 

“You’re still up?” you whisper as you feel Lando shift again in bed next to you. 

Getting back into the race week routine was always a challenge after a long holiday, and this summer break was no exception. After jet setting around Europe, partying in Ibiza, and spending many sleepless nights taking on late night adventures, you'd expect that the two of you would be sleep deprived enough to pass out the moment your head hit the pillow - but unfortunately it seemed like that was far from what was happening for your boyfriend.

There were still a couple of days before Lando needed to hop on a flight to get to the next track, but it still felt like a sharp return to reality as you returned to your apartment after your fairytale vacation. Instead of pizza boxes, there were meal prepped chicken wraps in your shared fridge, and tomorrow Lando would spend the whole day in the gym getting back to his workout routine.

That brings you to your current predicament. The both of you have been laying in bed for probably well over an hour now. And while sleep comes to you easy, of course it’s Lando, the one who has to be up at 6am tomorrow, who can’t seem to fall asleep. 

“Sorry, I was trying not to move around too much.” Lando whispers back, groaning slightly as he wipes at the tiredness in his eyes. 

You turn around to face him, immediately seeing the frustrated look on Lando’s face. Your bedroom is bathed in darkness, the moonlight trying to seep in through the cracks in your blinds. 

Instinctively, you reach over to smooth out the creases in Lando’s forehead, then take the time to run your fingers through Lando’s curls. He lets out a soft sigh at the action, the relaxation evident on his face. 

You both stay like that for a couple more minutes, and you’re mentally crossing your fingers that he somehow falls asleep. For a moment it’s peaceful, but the mirage is broken when Lando’s face scrunches up beneath your hold. 

“Oh god, Jon is gonna kill me.” Lando groans as he turns over to check the time on his phone. 

Lando is half debating just getting up and starting his workout now. Sure, he may be running on being awake for almost 25 hours at this point - but if he’s going to be awake, he might as well be productive. 

“I’m going to make you some tea with honey, okay? Just stay here, love.” you say gently, kissing his forehead as you walk out of the room. 

It’s definitely not the first time that Lando has had trouble falling asleep, but it hasn’t happened as much lately - the jet lag and exhaustion usually catches up to him the moment he steps foot back into your apartment after a long race. But no matter how long it’s been since his last sleepless night, it’s easy for you to fall into the routine of making a nighttime tea for him.

The only sound filling the room is the whistle from the kitchen that lets you know that the water is ready, and before you know it you’re back by Lando’s side. He’s sitting up now, back resting firmly against the headboard as he fruitlessly tries to fall asleep standing up. Lando says a quick thank you as you pass the mug to him. 

From there you fall into an easy rhythm of crawling into bed next to him, your head taking purchase in the crook on his neck. The silence feels far too loud, so the new sound of the nature channel playing softly on the TV is a welcome addition. You could pretend that you’re paying attention to the show, but the truth is that you keep stealing glances at Lando to see if he looks any closer to feeling at rest and ready to sleep.

“You’re so exhausted, Lan” you say as you look at him. Your hand stays tight in his as you give him a comforting squeeze. “Something on your mind keeping you up?” 

Lando knows you can read him like a book, that’s why as soon as the words leave your mouth he knows that you’ve already seen into his mind. Lando takes a shaky breath before he starts, turning you in his hold so you can face each other. 

“Something about going back to racing right now… I don’t know. There was just so much going wrong before, and then over this break I just felt so free. I feel ready to get back in the car, but I just don’t feel ready for everything else that comes along with it.” Lando admits.

Lando’s embarrassed more than anything. He gets to do what millions of budding drivers dream of doing but a few hundred only get to actually live out. How dare he feel anything but joy when he gets to drive in Formula 1? The guilt is what is swimming around in his head, keeping him awake - but he’s hoping he can keep those words unspoken so he doesn’t have to face the reality of his feelings. 

Lando worries when you don’t reply right away, but when he looks at you he notices that your eyes are focused on his cheeks. It’s only when you reach out to touch them does he realize that he’s crying. You cradle his cheeks in your hands, wiping away each tear as they fall.  “I’ve got you, babe” you whisper over and over again - letting Lando cry it out as much as he needs to.

“I’m so proud of you, Lan, always. I know I’m not out there on track with you, but I’ve got your back every step of the way.” There are small tears swimming in your eyes, but you keep them at bay because you don’t want to alarm your boyfriend.

“It’s okay to still struggle and have tough times - even if you are living your dream. And if there’s a day that comes where you don’t want to be in Formula 1 anymore, I’m still going to be here for you and love you just as much. You’re so much more than being a Formula 1 driver.” 

No more words need to be said, Lando just holds you tighter as you feel the sobs shake his body. Tomorrow, Lando will leave breakfast for you on the kitchen counter and a thank you note to express how grateful he is for your support. Tonight though, he just keeps you in his hold, intermittently giving you forehead kisses once he catches his breath, unable to find the words to express how much it means to him that you're here in this moment.

You don't know how much time passes, but Lando falls asleep just like that. You know that you will both wake up with achy necks and sore backs tomorrow, but you don’t dare move a muscle other than to turn off the tv, set your phone alarm, and send Jon a quick text that Lando had a rough night so he's prepared when he sees how he looks the next morning.

The next evening, Lando comes home from training at 8:30pm. The minute he walks through the door you can see the light ghost of a smile on his face, and without knowing it you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It’s a nice, quiet evening as you both settle onto the couch to eat Lando’s pre-prepped meals (because true love is being willing to suffer through unseasoned chicken and rice with your race car driver boyfriend).

Lando’s the first to head to bed for the night, letting you finish your episode of reality tv in peace when he sees how invested you are. Once you’re finished up for the night, you don’t even think twice before making a cup of tea and carrying it to the bedroom. Your spidey senses have proved you right as Lando lays awake, the frustration starting to settle in again between his brows. 

This time, instead of reaching for the mug, Lando immediately puts it down on the nightstand and instead reaches for you. He pulls you into his chest, intertwining his legs with yours he gives you another goodnight kiss. Within seconds, he’s fast asleep, his snores making you smile as they fill the room. 

This time there was no tea, no TV - it turns out all he needed was you. 

_ _ _ 

author’s note: this is my first piece of writing in an embarrassingly long time. Sorry that it got kind of sad, i am kinda sad so i fear that transferred over lol. Hope you liked this little fic! Until next time! - Em🤍

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I'm not around

Warnings: angst! mean!Steve, unrequited feelings, one sided feelings, mentions of Steve being in love with Nancy, mentions of death, allusions to suicidal thoughts, mentions of weed and alcohol

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Author's note: I promise, it's gonna get so much better soon, get ready for some much more angst in the next chapter, it's gonna hurt. @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, you're the bestest!!!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The living room is crowded, at least it seems that way to you. You aren’t used to being around so many people. You didn’t want to come here, but you had no choice when both Eddie and Robin had showed up at your house earlier today and practically forced you out of the house.

Now you sit here, sinking deeper and deeper into Steve Harrington’s couch, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. You’re playing with the loose string on the hem of your shirt as you look around the room. Robin is snacking on the m&m’s Eddie had brought as she’s looking through the pictures Jonathan had taken of her and Nancy just now. Eddie is out on the patio, smoking a cigarette and talking to Argyle who will leave for California in two days. Jonathan is staring at the screen watching some music video that is playing on the MTV channel, his pupils are blown and his eyes seem heavy, he is high out of his mind and for once, Nancy doesn’t seem to care, with her legs thrown over his thigh, she’s sipping on the beer that Steve handed to her a few minutes back, she is talking to Robin, unaware of the set of eyes on her. 

You restrain the eye roll as you look at him. 

Steve is sitting on the same couch you do, though with a big distance, you sit at one end and he on the other, far far away from you. You know he doesn’t want you here, you saw the look on his face when Eddie had dragged you into his house, a wave of something had washed over his face, something unpleasant, like he wanted to scrunch his face up in disgust at the sight of you – his mind had already erased your little moment at the Sinclair house, last week. Now you are back to normal. He made a comment, you made a comment and now you both sit there, avoiding each other like the plague. 

Secretly, you watch him though. 

Like you always do. 

And what you are seeing now, only fuels your annoyance and your wish to go home. 

The smile on his face that could never be directed at you, is directed at her. The love and the longing in his eyes that always lingers when she is around. She who had stolen his heart from the very first moment they saw each other. She who had always kept his heart even when she left him for the one she is smiling at now. She who will always be the one he will look at. 

You thought that he was over it, you thought that he was over her. But you were a little blind and maybe he was too when he told Robin that he was over her. He never was, he never will be. You saw the way he looked at her when she patched him up after he was attacked. You saw the way he looked at her in the RV. You heard the things he said to her, how he talked about his dreams that he surely saw her in by his side. 

You also heard the things he said about you when he thought that you were sleeping. You still remember how gut wrenching it felt to hear him say things about you to his ex-girlfriend. 

You huff in silence when his lips curl into a smile and his eyes light up when Nancy throws her head back in laughter. 

God, why are you even here? 

Eddie falls into the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. It feels as though a cloud of smoke had followed him because suddenly, the smell of snacks, fresh air and beer is replaced by it, along with the smell of his cologne.

Right. You’re here because of him. You don’t know why he feels the urge to drag you along to every group hang out. No one wants you around, you don’t even think that Robin wants you here, she barely talked to you since you came here. And the longer you sit in Steve’s living room, with an untouched can of coke on the table in front of you, surrounded by people who most likely cannot stand you or your presence, you wish more and more that Jason should have dragged you down with him. 

You don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere. 

Eddie takes a look around before he turns to you, the smile still lingering, though turning into a softer one when he notices the frown on your face. 

“What’s wrong, sweets?” 

You shake your head a little, trying to give him a smile, “nothing.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, whispering. 

You wonder if that is the reason why he always wants you around, so he can keep checking up on you, so he can make sure that you are okay, that you are still alive and not lying in some ditch after pushing yourself a little too hard while still recovering from surgery. 

Does he care so much because he knows that no one else would? 

Or does he feel like he owes you something because you helped him when it wasn’t even asked of you? 

You nod, “yeah, I just don’t know why I’m here,” you whisper to him, subtly gesturing to this tight friend group that you don’t fit into. 

Eddie is new to this as well, but unlike you, he’s open and friendly with everyone. He surely isn’t as cheerful as he was weeks back. Just like you, he is still recovering, hiding his inner scars from the face of the earth but still, he is trying. Trying to fit into this, and for him, it’s working, for you? Not so much. 

“Well, you’re here because of me,” he grins, tapping your shoulder. 

You huff but smile, looking down at your hands. 

Yeah, you wouldn’t be here otherwise. 

Had you not gone on a walk that one afternoon a few weeks back, you would have never ran into him. Eddie who had been a wanted man at that time, Eddie who was hiding at skull rock, in drenched clothes and with clattering teeth as he shivered like crazy. You remember how scared he looked when you saw him, how he thought that you would rat him out because at that time, you were nothing but acquaintances to each other. – You bought from him a few times but that was all. He always tried to make small talk, throw a few jokes at you, but at that time, he barely got you to laugh. 

You didn’t believe the rumors on the news, not even for a second, not even when Chrissy used to be a close friend of yours. 

You decided to help him, not knowing what else you were getting yourself into, not knowing that it wasn’t just him involved in a world you hadn’t known of yet, at that time. You got him dry clothes, food and the walkie talkie he had begged you for. 

You never expected Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson to show up moments later, though. And least of all, you hadn’t expected Max there. It felt like a surreal dream the moment they started explaining everything to you. The moment you found out the truth about Starcourt, about all the deaths in this town, about the lab, about Henry. 

You had only been allowed to be a part of it because of Max, because of your friendship with the girl you had grown protective of, because she let you help. 

The night in the upside down, the night at the Creel house led you here, into this friend group, into Steve’s house where you certainly don’t belong. 

You don’t know what that nagging yet empty feeling in your chest is, if it’s the trauma that is slowly catching up to you or if it’s from watching him watch her, or if you’re just simply having a bad day but it’s making you feel sick and restless, you want the ground to swallow you up. 

You muster up your greatest smile and flash it at Eddie, “yeah, cause you’re my very best friend.”

He snorts at you, hearing the sarcasm in your voice. 

“Your only best friend is Red.” 

You smile at his nickname for Max. 

“Hey Chica, do you wanna smoke this with me?” 

You don’t even pay attention or look up, not until Eddie chuckles and nudges your shoulder, raising his eyebrows at you to look up and when you do, you find Argyle looking at you with a dopey smile on his face as he holds up a blunt to you. 

Without thinking, you get up with a smile on your lips, “is that even a question?” 

It’s been a long time since you have had anything other than medication in your system, you are in dire need of something that will ease your mind and make you feel more than what you are feeling today. 

You fail to notice the disapproving look on Steve’s face, the way he tensely straightens up, slowly getting up as his brows knit together, more and more, watching in disbelief how you make your way over to Argyle. 

“What the hell, Blondie!?” 

His raised voice startles everyone in the room. Robin looks up from the polaroids in her hands, glancing up at her best friend who is staring at you with angry eyes. Nancy and Jonathan turn to look at Steve before they turn to look at what he is glaring at – or who he is glaring at. 

Argyle and Eddie turn to Steve with confusion on their faces. 

And you, you halt in your tracks, and turn back slowly. Caught off guard by the intense look on his face, you freeze. 

“Are you crazy?” 

You open your mouth to speak, though you shut your mouth again when you realize that these words aren’t directed at you, they’re directed at Argyle. 

“She can’t smoke or drink! Her doctor said it loud and clear, and I warned you before!” He points at him. 

You’re taken aback by his anger, by his words. The fact that he remembered when even you, yourself have forgotten about it. You hate the way your heart flutters at that, you hate the way it makes your stomach feel all tingly. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, just because he remembered. 

You see the way Argyle’s face drops and the way he smacks himself on his forehead, “I forgot, I’m sorry, man,” he looks at you, pulling away the blunt he was just about to give to you. “Sorry, he told me… I wasn’t thinking.” He whispers, a little uncomfortably as a funny look takes over his face. 

Steve warned him? 

“Dude, I forgot too, don’t worry about it,” you pat his arm, giving him an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind mother hen over there, he’s overreacting as always.” You say as though you don’t feel your heart racing over Steve’s outburst. 

“And you.” 

You instantly turn to face him, just like everyone else in the room who watches the scene unfold with curiosity and confusion on their faces. 

You meet his hazel eyes, the ones that are still raging. 

“Stop being so fucking careless!” He snaps, pointing his finger at you now. “You’re getting on my goddamn nerves.” 

He places his hands back on his hips, huffing loudly. 

Your cheeks flush under his gaze, you can feel them burning, your heart beating faster and faster. You don’t know how to feel but all you can think about now is the look in his eyes when he realized that he hurt you back at Lucas’s place the other day, the words he had said to you. 

Despite the giddiness inside of you, you hide your feelings behind a smirk. 

“Wow, you do worry about me, Harrington. You weren’t lying.” 

He squints his eyes at you, nodding at your words with another huff. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. 

Everyone is looking between the two of you, waiting for the bickering to start, the way it always does, but Steve manages to bite his tongue. 

And you surprise the others by holding back your little remarks. 

“And fucking relax, leave Argyle alone, he isn’t responsible for me and neither are you, Lego head. Go and get high, you need to calm down.” 

Jonathan snorts at the nickname, he throws his head back, chuckling loudly as he mumbles ‘Lego head’. Argyle, who already had one too many drags of the blunt he passed around before, is barely holding himself together, threatening to burst into laughter too. 

Steve shoots Jonathan a glare, pointing at him to shut up. 

Nancy looks down, pressing her lips together with an amused look in her eyes. 

Eddie drinks his beer, hiding the smirk behind the can, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Sit your ass down, Blondie and drink your goddamn coke, don’t even think about weed or–”

“No weed, no beer, just fucking coca cola, got it, mom,” you roll your eyes at him and slump back in your previous seat, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He sighs loudly, sitting back down as well, he crosses his legs, giving you the side eye. 

“Goddamn brat,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“I heard that.” 

“Good,” he snaps at you. 

There is no tension in the room, not even awkwardness after this weird moment. If anything, everyone is still amused. 

“Always bickering like an old married couple,” Eddie snickers. 

Steve glares at him, and you, you would have dug your elbow into his side, but he is wounded and still healing. The band aids on his neck are the evidence that they are still bad. He is hiding him, and you wonder if he always will, you ask yourself if he will hide his pain the way you hide yours. 

You don’t even notice that Robin left the room, only when everyone moves on from what just happened and chatter fills the space again, do you take a look around. You furrow your brows when you find her spot empty. 

Argyle and Jonathan leave the room, stepping out into the garden with Nancy following close behind. 

“Are you still in for tomorrow?” You hear Eddie, directing his question at Steve. 

“Yeah, sure.”

You don’t bother to ask and find out what their plans are. 

Robin walks back into her room, with something in her hand. Her eyes are aimed at you, a smile on her lips when she walks towards you. She hands you a drink, a diet pepsi. 

“Here.” 

Your lips part as you stare at the can for a long moment, blinking. You tilt your chin up, looking up at her with big eyes. 

Her smile falls and a frown takes over, “shit, I thought you liked diet pepsi? Was it original?” 

You shake your head at her, taking the can from her hand, “n-no, it’s diet pepsi.” 

She paid attention to you. 

She smiles at you. 

She felt bad watching you sit there and being unable to drink beer or smoke weed with the others. And she remembers that you always asked for pepsi when you were still in the hospital, you hated the teas there and despised the fact that you were only allowed water. 

“I thought you liked coke, Blondie.”

Robin rolls her eyes at Steve. 

“It’s not my favorite,” you shrug, turning to look at him. “I prefer pepsi.” 

He squints his eyes at you, “so when you stole my coke the other day, you did it just to–”

“Get back at you, yeah. Cause you stole my coffee.” 

“When did he steal your coffee?” Robin asks. 

“When I came to family video to rent a movie–”

“Oh, you little liar,” Steve scoffs at you, “she did not rent a movie, she didn’t even come to look for one.”

A smirk tugs at your lips, if there’s something that you love more than the drink in your hand, it’s to get on his nerves. 

“Says who? I really wanted one but the customer service sucks when this one isn’t around,” you point at Robin. 

Eddie chuckles, turning to look at Steve who is glaring at you, before a smirk appears on his face, his hazel eyes twinkling with smugness. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t want to rent a movie, honey. You were there because you wanted to see me,” he says, cockily as he lets his eyes move from your face, down to your body and back up to meet your eyes. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the way he just looked at you. You don’t squirm in your seat, but you surely would if the others weren’t around. You grow flustered beneath his stare but you have come to learn how to hide it – Steve Harrington will never see you blushing over him. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you did just want to see him, because you always do, you always want to see him. No matter how much he hates you, no matter how much he despises you, you can’t help but want him, even if you continue to lie about it to yourself to stay sane. 

Steve Harrington had always been your demise – from the first glance. 

You couldn’t help but grow fascinated with him, watching him from afar with eyes the shape of your favorite sunglasses. You couldn’t help but care for him, even when he couldn’t stand you. 

Sometimes you feel like a creep, watching him and adoring everything about him, from his sun kissed skin, to his beautiful eyes, to his perfect hair, to that one smile that he blesses only those around him that he cares about – something that you will never get. 

Sometimes it’s hard to look into his eyes because every time you do look for a little too long, you feel like dying because suddenly, you see the world with different eyes, you see something beautiful, because he is in it and when you look away, when he is gone, it feels anything but.

Steve wouldn’t even bat an eye if you were gone. He wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t around. 

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed by the way he looks at you, by his presence, by all of this. You are in his space, you are invading, his home, his friend group, his safe place. The reminder of it, that you don’t belong here, lies heavy on your heart and you feel the urge to run away but you cannot give yourself away so easily, knowing that it would be awfully noticeable if you suddenly left after what he just said. 

So you put on a mask, the way you always do. 

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you smirk, tilting your head at him, “I mean no one else would come to see you, I took pity on you.” 

He clenches his jaw, his smirk falling into a frown. 

“Keep your pity to yourself, Blondie. I’d rather never see you again than see you when I don’t have to.”

You know how he feels about you, you know what he thinks of you, yet every single insult, every jab at you feels like a punch to your gut. But this, this was a punch to your heart. 

You know he wouldn’t grieve you if you died at the Creel house, but to know that he might have felt relieved to never having to see you again, hurts you more than you want to admit. 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie snaps at him as his brown eyes fill with anger at his words. 

Robin rolls her eyes, shaking her head at Steve in disappointment. 

But he keeps his eyes on you, struggling to read you, struggling to look past that smirk that is still going strong. 

“Well, I’ll put you out of your misery, Lego head,” you say as you place the drink on the table before you get up. 

Robin furrows her brows, looking you up and down, “what are you doing?” 

“I’m leaving.” You try not to sound bitter or hurt. “I’m getting tired and I forgot my meds at home.” 

Steve looks away from you, feeling a rush of guilt. 

“I’ll drive you–”

You cut Eddie off, shaking your head at him, “no, I’m gonna walk, I need some fresh air.”

Eddie looks at you worriedly, “sweets, I don’t want you to walk by yourself.”

“Eddie, I’m okay, I don’t get dizzy anymore,” you say, trying to smile at him. “I promise, I’ll call you later tonight.” 

He still looks unsure, not wanting to let you go like this. 

But he can tell that you want to be alone, right now, so despite his worry, he leans back again and nods begrudgingly. 

“Okay..” 

You walk out of the room, biting back the bitterness on your tongue, trying to swallow down the pain. You rush through the hallway and open the door, you only manage to take one step out before you hear footsteps behind you. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that Eddie being the stubborn guy that he is will try to convince you to stay, but when you turn around, it’s not Eddie’s brown eyes that you find yourself looking into, it’s Steve’s and it catches you off guard a little. 

He stops in front of you, his eyes scan your face and he huffs a little when he runs his fingers through his hair. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’s guilt and worry in his eyes. 

You hold onto the door, ready to escape whatever pain he will put you through again.

“Listen uh, that was mean,” he starts, now struggling to look into your eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, tugging at his hair. “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

You blink.

You swallow as you keep on looking at him with smugness, to hide the pain. 

“It’s okay, no need to hide the truth from me, you were just saying what you were feeling, right?” 

He opens his eyes and when he faces you again, he looks at you, really looks at you. He tries to find a hint of pain in your features or hurt in your eyes, but there is nothing. All he can see is the coldness in them. 

Nothing he could ever do or say would hurt you – at least, that is what he believes, what he always believed. 

“Right.” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks. 

“Good,” you nod and you tear your eyes away from him, unable to look at him any longer as you feel your heart cracking more and more.

“Y-You don’t have to go, Blondie.” He stops you once again, holding himself back from taking your hand. 

You slowly turn around and he still struggles to read you, even when you stop smirking, even when you only look at him with a straight face, not saying anything back. 

“But if you want to leave, no one’s gonna stop you.”

You see the indifference in his eyes, the coldness that is only there when he looks at you. 

Yeah, you know no one would. 

How can you care so much about someone that cares so little about you? 

How can you want him so bad when all he wants for you is to disappear? 

How can he worry one second and hate you in the other? 

How can you long for him after every hurtful thing that he said to you? 

You take a step away from him, blinking as you feel your eyes starting to burn. 

“Bye, Steve.” 

You turn around before he can even open his mouth, and you slam the door shut behind you because you don’t want to hear his voice. 

You walk away with tears in your eyes. 

You wish you didn’t come here today, every moment spent with him makes you want him even more, makes you hate yourself even more. 

You don’t go home, no, you can’t stand to be in a house that resembles nothing but loss. 

You turn the other way, towards Hawkins cemetery. 

You just need to vent. 

Even if only into the void. 

♡

tagging only friends & mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @livosssblog

[moonreader1010]

Pac- what are you known for/famous for 💋

Note- 1. The pictures used do not belong to me. All rights go to the owner. (2) This is a general reading for entertainment purposes so take what resonates.

Pile 1. Pile 2

Pile 3^

Pile 1- He said, "You bad, Nicki, " I said, "Thanks, sir" (thanks, sir)

Stay in some fresh prints, Ashley Banks, sir (banks, sir)

Call me A.I., sir, I'm The Answer (Answer)

I'm in the playoffs, sir, I advance, sir (advance, sir)

okay so I feel like there is soo much masculine energy (not to be confused with being a male) . It’s more like your energy is veryy dominant and assertive. This is how people perceive you. You are this untouchable personality to other’s. You are perceived like a perfect leader who can deal with literally anything that’s thrown at them. You are also known as someone who is very stable. And people know you as someone who can control anything. Due to this, there could be many people who come to you for support. You might have a rags to riches story (or might have this in the future) and this will influence greatly what you are known for. This will be your trademark like you will be known as someone who went ahead and built their own empire. You will be also known for you financial success. You are also known as someone who is very wise and compassionate.

Channeled/above mentioned song- sir by Nicki Minaj ft. Future

Pile 2: "Ayo, just last week I told 'em to pick a side (side)

I bust shots, don't duck if it don't apply ('ply)

Bae out in Paris, he told me to pick a ride (ride)

Sike, made you look, I still didn't pick a guy

I'm the trophy of the game, everybody tryna win me (win me)"

What’s with so much earth energy?? Lol. Anyway, before I even started shuffling the Cards I felt like you have a lot of jealousy surrounding you. Especially by women. Like you just get hated for no reason at all. So yeah. You could be known for being praised or being awarded a lot. Like it’s not even necessary that you actually get praised or awarded. There could be someone else getting the same things as you but no one would bat an eye but when you get those exact same things than everybody is protesting and being all jealous and bitter. And you know, when it comes to you then people only notice your success and achievements but they literally refuse to acknowledge the actual efforts that you were putting behind the scenes to get all that. They are almost blind when it comes to your efforts. Due to this, they could see you as someone who just gets stuff and gets a lot of opportunities. They might start rumours to ruin your reputation too. Despite this I can tell that you are known as someone who is fun. Like you know how to enjoy yourself. This makes these haters sooo mad omg keep it up. You could also be someone who speaks the absolute truth. You don’t really care who you are speaking against because for you if something is wrong then it’s f*cking wrong. You could also be known for your financial decisions like investments and stuff. And also the way you notice every detail.

Channeled/above mentioned song- hard white by Nicki Minaj

Pile 3- I don't want no drama

I just wanna be your diamond, babe

Guaranteed to be a problem

Every time I get around you, babe

I just want you to need me

You are known as someone who has been through a big event and that event has totally changed you. You could be someone who USED to compromise or let anyone walk over you but now you know your worth and won’t let anyone play with you or you heart. You are known as someone who is very difficult to approach as you keep your heart safe and hidden. Karma could have a lot of significance for you. You are known as a very balanced person. You are also known as someone who can’t tolerate injustice. You are known as someone who is dangerous and people shouldn’t message with you. People see you as someone who is very very brave. And they might see you as someone who is still looking for the right people to let in. You might have been overkind at some point in your life and people took advantage of that. I just wanna give you a hug so bad. But now you people think thrice before even considering using you or your kindness. You are also known as someone who is very independent.

Channeled/above mentioned song- favourite by Nicki Minaj

[vbecker10]

Trust Me

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N) - established relationship

Summary: You and Loki have been dating for a year and a half and you moved into his apartment in the Tower last month when your apartment's lease was up. Since you've moved in, Loki has been coming home late more and more often. You fear he is cheating on you like your exes did, you finally break down and confront him. He admits has been keeping a secret from you but it's not what you expected.

Warning: Angst of course, being cheated on in previous relationships (briefly mentioned), fear of being cheated on again, lack of trust, arguing, negative thoughts, Loki being a little stupid

A/N: Ok... tiny spoiler but there is a super fluffy ending 💚 I know it's kinda long but I just didn't feel like making this a two-parter

You have just finished cooking dinner and begin to set the table when you catch a glimpse of the clock on the stove. You feel a growing sense of disappointment, Loki should be home already. Sitting alone at the table, you look at the food for a few minutes until your phone vibrates causing your heart to sink. Without even checking, you know what the text will say.

<Darling, I'm so sorry I need to finish something for Stark. I'll be home late, don't wait up.>

You frown and scroll back up to the previous messages in the chat. Loki had sent you similar texts twice and you've only lived with him for six days.

<Okay. I made you dinner, it'll be in the fridge. Love you>

He replies quickly.

<I love you too>

You instantly lose your appetite and decide to put all of the food away. It is hard not to feel as if Loki is avoiding you. In the year and a half you've been dating, he only worked late a handful of times and it was never several days in a row.

What are the odds that his work load has suddenly increased now that I am living with him? you think as you fill with anxiety. No, Loki loves me, you try to reassure yourself. He would never lie to me, if he says he is working, he is working.

You get another text from Loki as you close the fridge.

<I forgot to tell you, I picked up all of the very specific snacks you requested. I am looking forward to spending the weekend with my arms wrapped around you while we watch that absolutely absurd show you love so much>

You smile, your worries fading quickly as you text him back.

You change the channel again but you are barely watching the TV. You've had an unusually long and stressful day and you really need to cuddle with Loki but something tells you he is not coming home just yet. Almost as soon as you think it, your phone vibrates and you sigh.

<I'm sorry love, I'll be home late again. Don't wait up>

<K>

You text back the single letter, unsure if Loki can tell the subtle difference between 'okay' and 'k' but you just don't have the energy to fake being fine at the moment.

Two minutes later Loki responds.

<I love you>

You swipe the message away without replying, putting your phone in your pocket. You turn off the TV and decide you're done for the night, you can't bare the thought of eating alone for the third time this week. Without eating, you take a shower to try and wash off the day then crawl into the large, empty bed.

Once you are under the covers in the dark, your thoughts begin to race. Why does Loki never seem to want to come home to me? Does he really have that much work to do or is it an excuse? What if he is tired of being around me? We only just started living together but it feels like he is just trying to avoid spending time with me. What could he possibly be doing until midnight three or four nights a week?

No, not what... who is he doing, the little voice in the back of your mind pushes through. He's cheating on me, I've just been too blind to see it.

But Loki said he would never betray my trust like that, he promised, you counter but your negative thoughts quickly return. My previous boyfriends all seemed honest too, until they hurt me.

There are other signs I've been ignoring, you allow yourself to think. The calls, the texts, you wipe away your tears and cling to his pillow. You had gone into your bedroom two weeks ago and Loki was sitting on the bed, scrolling through your phone. He told you he was checking the weather app before you left for the park but the answer didn't feel right. You had nothing to hide and would often let him use your phone without question but you couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking for something. One thing you learned from your first boyfriend was that if someone started snooping around, it was because they were hiding something of their own.

Soon after that, Loki began getting texts that he didn't respond to or he would leave the room to answer a phone call. He always insisted it was Steve, Tony or Thor and that it had to do with work but you found it harder and harder to believe him.

He probably didn't even really want me to move in with him, your mind switches tracks suddenly. Sometimes I feel like the only reason he asked me to move in was because I had complained that my lease was running out and he was tired of hearing about it.

That's not true, you try to correct your thoughts. Of course Loki wants me here. You remember what he told you when he was helping you pack.

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

Your memory of Loki is quickly pushed aside by your memory of crappy ex number two. You had moved in with him just after college when you both realized you couldn't afford to live in NYC on your own. You had only been together a few months before you signed the lease on a one bedroom and it was just two weeks later when he began working later and later. It turns out, what he really wanted was a roommate with benefits and to still see other woman.

"That's everything," you said, looking around your empty bedroom. You had a gnawing feeling, even then, that Loki would grow tired of you and cheat. You wondered if you were setting yourself up for another heartbreak and Loki seemed to sense your anxiousness.

He took your hand in his and kissed it lightly, making you smile. Then he said, "Darling, I know the timing seems convenient but I have been wanting to ask you to live with me for some time. I know you prefer to take things slowly but I would have asked you to move in with me a year ago if I thought you would have agreed."

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

I can't keep denying this, you roll onto your back and look up at the ceiling, tears streaming down your cheeks. Loki is cheating on me. The only question is did this start after I moved in or has he been doing it the whole time?

A few hours later Loki walks into the apartment completely exhausted, all he can think about is crawling into bed with you. He hates how late his project is keeping him, he misses you tremendously and needs to feel you in his arms. Loki is overwhelmingly concerned by your response, or lack there of, to his texts tonight. You had never not told him you loved him and it made him nervous.

He pauses in the dark when he is just outside your bedroom and realized he can hear you crying. His heart aches at the sound and he turns on the light when he enters the room. You roll over away from him, clutching his pillow tightly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he asks. You are silent, unable to answer his question. He crawls onto the bed next to you over the covers. You squeeze your eyes shut, hating how safe his actions make you feel, his chest flush to your back and his strong arms around you. "Darling, please tell me what's wrong," he urges gently.

"You're cheating on me," you state through your tears.

"No," he pulls back in surprise, "No, Y/N, you know I would never do that to you."

You shake your head, "You never come home."

"I'm sorry, I'm working on something-" he tries to explain but you cut him off.

"Who is she?" you ask sitting up. He moves to sit up and face you.

"Love please, I'm not-," he again tries to deny he is cheating but you don't let him speak.

"I know you aren't working this late, you never worked long hours before I moved in," you tell him as you wipe away your tears angrily. "Just tell me who she is unless... unless there's not just one other woman." Memories of your third ex-boyfriend flash through your mind, he had cheated on you with five women that you knew of but you were sure there had been others.

"There is no one else. I swear on everything in the nine realms I have been nothing but faithful to you," he promises quickly.

Your heart desperately wants to believe him. You love him so fiercely, more than you ever thought possible especially after you had been hurt so horribly in the past. Your mind, however, is convinced that you can't trust him and you shouldn't have let yourself fall for him. You know it will destroy you to leave him but you can't remain with him if the trust is gone.

"Look at me," he says, touching your cheek lightly. "I have never and would never cheat on you. I know you don't believe me right now and I understand you have been hurt in the past but I love you and I respect you too much to ever treat you the way those pathetic excuses for men ever did."

You sniffle and he says, "It's late, come with me tomorrow morning. I will show you what I have been working on. I will show you that you can trust me."

You nod in agreement although you are unsure how he can prove to you he has been faithful. He wipes your tears gently. "Don't," you whisper, pulling away from him when he moves to kiss your cheek.

"Would you prefer if I sleep in the living room tonight?" he asks. His chest hurts even as the words leave his mouth but he knows if he pushes too hard, you will retreat further away from him.

You nod again, unable to trust yourself to speak. You want to tell him to stay, to comfort you but how can he if he's the one who caused you this pain.

"Okay," he says quietly. He hates knowing he hurt through his actions. He tucks you back under the covers and runs his fingers through your hair slowly in the hopes that you will relax even the slightest bit.

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel this way, this was not what I wanted," he says softly. "I was planning something for you and I didn't have time to work on it during the day. I should have thought about how you would feel when I didn't come home but I need you to know that coming home to you has always been the best part of my day."

"I love you," he kisses the top of your head and you feel him get out of the bed. He turns off the light but waits a few seconds before leaving, hoping you will change your mind and allow him to stay with you. As soon as he closes the bedroom door you begin sobbing again.

Loki paces angrily back and forth in the living room. How could I have been so stupid, how could I have missed how upset you were? he thinks as he runs his fingers through his hair. He never intended to hurt you, he had become so distracted trying to make sure everything went perfectly to plan that he let the most important person in his life slip through his fingers. He sits heavily on the couch, wishing morning would come quickly.

He lays down after a few minutes, his hand over his eyes and remembers the day he first asked you on a date.

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

"No, Loki, I'm sorry," you told him while you were sitting together in the park. You slowly removed your hand from his and shifted away on the bench.

A few days later, the two of you were cooking dinner in his apartment and you asked him if you could explain why you had told him no.

Loki was almost too shocked and hurt by your rejection to respond. You had been doing date-like activities for almost a month and he had finally decided to ask you out officially. After a long moment he said, "I understand. I'm sorry, I must have misread things between us. I thought..." he shook his head, his words dying off. "Friends then," he looked up at you and smiled.

"Of course," he answered, a part of him hoping there was still a chance, however small, that you would change your mind.

You sat with him at the dining table and said, "There are two types of people when it comes to trust. You're the first type, you trust with your whole heart unconditionally. Once someone breaks your trust, however, it is gone forever."

He nodded in agreement knowing he had trusted his father without question but once he found out the truth, it was gone and could never be restored.

You continue, "I'm the second type, I don't trust anyone when I first meet them. I can't help but assume everyone is lying or unfaithful or willing to hurt me until they prove otherwise. I wasn't always like this but all three of my previous boyfriends cheated on me so now I almost feel like I've lost the ability to trust anyone. It was why I have so few friends."

After another hour of telling Loki what they had done, he promised to find your exes and make them suffer for how they treated you. You laughed in response, telling him that they weren't worth him getting in trouble but you secretly loved how protective he was of you.

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

You roll over again, unable to get comfortable without Loki next to you. You close your eyes tight and try to force yourself to sleep but it seems impossible. I don't understand why he would do this, you think. He had tried for so long to earn my trust and convince me to be with him. Why would he throw it all away?

Three months later you were sitting on Loki's couch together, the same one he is trying to sleep on now. His arm was around your shoulder and you were leaning comfortably against him. Your mind wandered since you had seen the movie before and after replaying the last few weeks in your mind you realized something.

From the day you told Loki no, he had been nothing but patient with you, being the friend you needed. You continued to go to museums, parks, movies, from the outside it appeared as if it were dating but Loki never pushed you. He would hold your hand as often as he could and you discovered he gave fantastic hugs but he never went in for a kiss or asked you out again although you could sometimes tell he wanted to.

"Loki, ask me again," you said out of seemingly nowhere.

"Ask you what darling?" he laughed as he paused the movie.

"Ask me on a date," you smiled nervously. "That is, if you still want to date me."

His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his lips. "Y/N, would you go on a date with me tomorrow?" he asked, holding your hand.

"Yes," you answered and he kissed your cheek causing you to blush. He promised you that he would never make you regret giving him this chance.

There is a light knock on the door and Loki opens it slowly. "Good morning darling," he forces a smile and you can tell by the redness in his eyes he slept probably as well as you did. "I know it is early, but I need you to come with me. I can't bear the thought of you thinking I've cheated on you for a moment longer."

He stops in front of the last door in the hall and he clears his throat. "It isn't finished yet," he says before he opens the door. "I was hoping to have it ready for your birthday next month."

You both get ready in silence and leave the apartment. He walks next to you and you can tell he wants to reach for your hand but you keep your arms crossed against your chest. You step into the elevator first and Loki pushes the button for one of the highest floors in the Tower. You have never been to that floor and are honestly not sure what is up there. When you arrive, he leads you down the empty hallway without a word.

"My birthday?" you ask confused.

He nods, "You were right, I have been lying to you and hiding something but I never meant to make you feel as if I was trying to hurt you. I was a fool for not realizing this was a horrible idea."

Loki opens the door and the lights turn on as you follow him inside. You freeze, your hand covering your mouth.

"It's almost an exact replica of the Great Hall in the palace," he says looking at the high ceiling. He looks back at you, "You told me you wanted to see Asgard and this is as close as I could get to making that happen for you."

"Loki-" you can barely speak as your eyes try to take in the room.

Your heart fills with love but also pain and guilt that you hadn't been able to trust Loki the way he deserved. You slowly move through the space and you are blown away by the tall marble columns, stained glass windows and gold accents all around you.

"The calls and texts were to your friends and family," he explains. "I needed to go through your phone for their numbers. When we were at Scott's party last year, you said you had never had a surprise party so..." he shrugs. "I tried."

"I'm so sorry," you tell him, putting your arms around him but he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I thought you would like it," he says utterly defeated.

"I do," you tell him earnestly. "Loki this is amazing, you are amazing. I can't believe you did all of this for me. I don't deserve this."

"You deserve the world Y/N," he tells you, his fingers wiping away the tears you didn't realize had fallen.

"I gave you plenty of reasons," he corrects you gently. "I can see how... sketchy my behavior was. I just wish you told me your fears sooner, before they consumed you so completely. I would never be able to forgive myself if you left me because I did something stupid. "

You hug Loki tighter, resting your cheek on his chest while he runs his fingers through your hair. "No I don't," you tell him. "I didn't even try to believe you. I compared you to all of my exes and I assumed you were just like them even though you have never given me a reason to mistrust you."

"A lot of magic, that's why it is taking so long. It is draining to build the type of illusion that can withstand being touched and will remain even when I am not here," he explains.

"This isn't stupid, this really is amazing. I love it," you look up at the painted ceiling again. "I love you."

He smiles, "I love you too."

"How did you even do all of this?" you ask, looking around again in awe.

"It's why your always tired when you do finally come home?" you ask.

"Yes," he tilts your chin up. "But you are worth it." He leans down and kisses you.

The night of your 'surprise' party Loki walks into your bedroom with a beautiful deep emerald green dress. He smiles at your reaction and says, "This is my first gift of the night for my queen."

You finish getting ready and meet him in the living room. He stands from the couch, his eyes fixed on you. "You truly are a goddess," he says as he walks over to you. He puts his hands on your waist and you put your arms over his shoulders.

You blush at the compliment and joke, "You look half decent I guess." He laughs, both of you knowing full well how much you love when he wears a suit. Tonight he chose his black suit with a green dress shirt to match you and black tie. He leans down to kiss you and you find it impossible to let him go but he eventually breaks the kiss.

"Loki, you've done too much already," you can barely contain how happy and loved he makes you feel.

"You can only be so late to your own party," he smirks and you agree. Taking his hand, you walk towards the door but he stops you. "Wait, I think you are missing something," he says as he conjures a long, thin velvet box. "A second gift for my love."

"You deserve every bit of it," he says as he opens the box to reveal a gold necklace with a small resin pendant. You notice a tiny flower in the center when he places it around your neck from behind. "It's a freesia, the flower. They are often thought of as a symbol of trust and I want you to have this, to know you can trust me completely as I trust you."

He puts his arms around you and pulls you close. "You didn't ruin anything, please stop apologizing. And for the record, according to every single person on the team, I am the annoying one in this relationship, not you."

You fight to hold back tears and say, "I'm sorry I almost ruined everything. I can't imagine how annoying I must have been, constantly reminding you that I didn't trust you and comparing you to my exes."

You laugh and look up at him, "That's just cause they don't like you as much as they like me."

He smiles, "At least you like me."

You shake your head no and giggle. "I love you," you tell him then you reach up and kiss him.

He strokes your cheek softly, "That is all that matters to me."

Loki smiles at you before opening the door and the lights turn on. Everyone yells surprise as you step into the space and there is no need for you to fake being completely amazed. Loki has added so much detail work, flowers, candles and even some balloons since you had last seen the room. The Avengers, your friends, your family and some of your closest coworkers are here, ready to celebrate you. You turn to thank Loki and he lets go of your hand.

You look down in shock, covering your mouth with one hand as he reaches for your other hand. He kneels on one knee in front of you, a small ring box in his hand.

"Y/N," he starts but he is unable to get another word out

He smirks, "At least I was able to keep this a surprise."

"Loki..." you can barely believe what is happening.

"Yes," you answer quickly.

He laughs, "Darling, I didn't ask yet."

"I don't care, yes," you tell him and he stands up, putting the ring on your finger. You don't even look at it but you know it is perfect. You throw your arms around Loki and he picks you up, kissing you fiercely.

"I love you," you tell him over the sound of everyone clapping in the background.

"I love you too," he says before kissing you again.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @loreniscrying @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-ofthe-pages @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Six

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Six is here, sorry it took a bit but it's been a long week and I've lacked the incentive to actually start writing:/ BUT I honestly do love this next part, so I hope you do too!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

We’d kept the whole outing on the low during the ride over to Rosie’s school– seeing as the kid couldn’t tag along– and instead spoke of her lessons, what teachers she was dreading as well as the snazzy lunch they’d all been promised the week before, before she then mentioned the call that she’d had with her sister earlier the previous day. Which had ultimately reminded me to text my own on our way over.

After we’d watched the girl waltz up the school steps, bag in hand, Em and I finally managed to pull out of the mayhem that was ‘drop off’, Marshall having received more than his fair share of lingering looks from mums in passing cars and the one teacher that was on lookout, much to my amusement. And so it was only as we drove off that I looked over to find that he was wearing this tiny, barely there smile that on him all but screamed drollery.

“What?” I questioned around a wry chuckle, glancing between him and the stereo whilst I messed around with its many buttons in hopes to find a better channel.

Marshall shook his head minutely at me and continued to drive, though that smile of his stayed put.

“Come on,” I prompted again after settling on a station that would just have to do and hiked up a knee so that I could turn a little to face him better, “What’s got you all smiley?”

He cocked a single brow and shot a look my way. “Smiley?” He repeated sardonically.

“Yes, smiley.” I pestered, then impulsively reached out to drag my finger over the curve of his mouth, not even second guessing the gesture. To my surprise though the action only made him blow out a mirthfilled breath and swat the offending limb away. I bit back my own grin, “It’s this thing, see, that happens when you contract the muscles in your face.”

“Huh,” Em said, pretending to mull the words over before he eventually turned to me wearing the stupidest face, “How many you reckon I’m pulling now, hey? Nah, come on now. How many?” He continued to prod after he’d only received an amused scoff in return from me. 

Marshall pushed away from the steering wheel when we slowed at the next stoplight so that he could lean over the centre console far enough to poke at my side. The move had me laughing at his sudden playful manner, backing me into the passenger door to escape.

“It’s all in the wrinkles!” I exclaimed in retort to his question, exerting myself even further when a hand jumped over again to pinch at my waist in retaliation, “You just gotta pay attention to them and–” I attempted to dodge the next onslaught of fingers which threatened to dig into my side, “and then I reckon you can count the muscles!”

“Fuck you, man.” Marshall snickered in relent, shaking his head at me after one last prod before we both jumped at the sudden sound of a blaring horn. All those facial muscles of his were quick to drop into a prominent scowl at the scare we’d been given when he shot an aggrieved look back at the driver behind us. Em gritted his teeth and switched gears, letting the car roll through the now green light at a pace set just to further aggravate the guy following us.

I rolled my eyes at the second beep and went to gesture something at the other guy when I was hastily reminded of the car’s too-tinted windows, so instead I just slumped a tad in my seat. “Americans.” I clucked, lips then twitching at the way Marshall’s head snapped over to me, eyes narrowed.

“Careful there, woman.”

With an impish grin, I widened my own eyes tauntingly in retort as he sped up, “Or what?”

Those familiar baby blues flickered across the expanse of my face, taking in the faint freckles and the bow of my lip, then they dropped down to the position I’d since manoeuvred myself into, observing, analysing even. Before they eventually slid back out the front window. 

“Tempt me and find out.” Is all that he replied before we were going around the next bend a little too quickly, fast enough to have me bracing myself on the side door just so that I could catch my balance. 

I watched on as he merely smirked, thumbs tapping effortlessly against the wheel to the radio, knowing full well what he’d just done.

I wasn’t ashamed to admit that it was much of the same antics throughout the rest of the journey too, Em pointing out stupid shit just so that he could jerk around and swerve a little too hard, which then prompted me into winding down my window so that I could call shit out to whatever unlucky fucker just managed to be passing by. 

The first time I’d done it he’d almost lost his nut, eyes as wide as dinner plates whilst he’d attempted to reel me back in and away from the window, probably waiting for somebody to recognise us, or rather him. But we’d been gone too quickly, only the last few decibels of my thick English accent trailing through the air behind us. 

I’d practically cackled at the picture he’d painted when I’d fallen back into my seat, his head swivelling every which way in a bad impression of an owl to try and catch a glimpse of the next supposed pap. Eventually though, he’d started to chuckle too, obviously having found somewhat of a thrill in it, and then egged me on to do it again. Not thinking that I actually would.

So we made a game out of it, switching up accents, pretending to know people we didn’t, telling pedestrians that their fly was down or that they had shit on their shoe. Even managed to get someone to knock on some random door, telling them that we were waiting on the guy who lived there. 

The one that Marshall seemed to prefer though was when we’d stopped at another red light and I’d wound down my window once more to start up a conversation with this older looking fella crossing in a pair of sunnies. He’d blinked at me, the guy, when I’d asked him how his husband was doing, questioning the most recent surgery and the man’s pruning addiction, before I’d switched up tactics completely and mentioned the dodgy kebab I’d had the night previous, clinging to my stomach and grimacing through the supposed unease I felt. 

The second the light had flashed green Marshall had floored it, shaking his head at the expression that had marred the poor guy’s face and grinning over at me like a madman. It’d made me wonder when was the last time he’d granted himself a little freedom, instead of constantly stressing about the public and media's perception. It got me thinking.

Soon enough though the crowded city shifted and changed once more, morphing away from the high-risers and scenic views into too many condemned buildings and yellowing sidewalks. I’d leaned forward in my seat to get a better look out of my window as we’d passed by a block of shuttered shops, taking in the swift adjustment. Em though, he only seemed to get more and more tense the further in we drove.

“Oh, shit! Look at that.” I suddenly awed after a short while, eyes having immediately been captured by the grand display of colours which lined the next street we drove down. It was a mural of sorts, painted along the side of what I could only dub as an offie, and so precise that it almost looked like the letters and characters were jumping out at you, forcing you to actually look and see. 

“Fuck, you don’t see work like that often,” I added as we drove on, Marshall’s gaze flickering back and forth between the mural and I before it was out of sight. Me though, I was still grinning and giddily leant in to explain how… “Back home it was all gang tags and area codes, but you could always find the odd piece hidden away if you knew where to look. More central though, you know? They put them on display up there like some kind of gallery, especially in the touristy parts. But in truth, they’re nothing like that– or that!” I found myself gasping again, crowding further forward in the car, enough so that my knees knocked into the dashboard to get a proper look at the next graffiti outline that cropped up.

It was of Diana Ross, afro swooping along the building's top edge as she posed, shoulder facing forward, eyes staring off into the sky above us. Her skin was a flood of blurred blues and vibrant purples, blending into a dark contrast that had been used to further accentuate her features; the long lashes, the effortless pout, and those all too familiar statement earrings.

Passing by, I almost wanted to ask Marshall to stop, I even went as far as to open my mouth to do exactly that until I witnessed the calculating look he’d since taken on. My brow furrowed at the sight of it, but he must have realised me looking all too quickly because in a split second he was watching the road again, face blank as he turned the wheel effortlessly down the next street.

I settled back into my seat and allowed my gaze to linger on the window and the world beyond it, feeling a tad bit settled now that we were away from the hustle and bustle of the inner city. It wasn’t that I disliked it so much that I would go out of my way to avoid it completely, it was just that I’d always been wired that way, no matter where I went. Much preferring the back streets, side alleys and cramped parade of shops to the metal structures that rose cloud high and the people who didn’t give a fuck beyond where they were headed. 

Trips into central London as a teenager, and even now as an adult, I supposed, always seemed to leave me feeling all itchy and cornered. It was just a lot to take in being surrounded by so much mayhem and all I ever really wanted to do once I was able to step through my front door at the very end of the day was to wash it all away completely in a too warm shower.

Even the thought of home had me smiling though, listening as the radio carried on humming out a dull tune, the frequency buzzing every so often. Em stayed tightlipped beside me, hunched in his seat as we drove through the next couple streets full of worn and tired houses, some boarded up, others littered with cardboard boxes and the like.

I licked at my lower lip and shifted after a while, dragging my stare away from the many mailboxes, and how they differed from the letterboxes we had back home, over to Marshall himself. I waited a beat or two, figuring he might finally speak up, but to no avail. “So,” I began instead, voice soft in the stillness that had since encased the car, “You gonna tell me where we’re headed yet?”

There was a pause, and then, “Figured I’d give you a real tour, didn’t I?” His eyes flickered over to me, then darted away again. I gave way to the small bout of patience I seemed to somehow own and it actually paid off because although Marshall’s jaw worked itself around his next bout of words, he did eventually say them, “City’s cool and shit, but it ain’t me.”

Looking over at the man, I observed the way his lips pressed together ever so tighter into a fine line that dimpled his chin and how his brow then furrowed even when his stare on the road didn’t dare falter. After hearing the reply I had an inkling of sorts about where we were heading, but nothing concrete enough to get my hopes up, especially not with the way he was acting. Growing more uneasy the further the wheels beneath us travelled. 

“And what’s that meant to mean?” I wondered aloud, keeping my voice soft and light as my head lolled back to rest against the seat rest and continue watching. The picture of pure innocence.

My gaze tracked the motion of his tongue when he rolled his lower lip inwards to lick over it. His front teeth prominent in the slight gesture, reminding me of the fact that once upon a time they’d been a lot more bunnylike. “You shared some tough shit with me yesterday,” He spoke, releasing his lip just as his hand rose to knuckle the underneath of his nose, “And you know, this is my way of repaying that, I guess.”

I couldn’t help my slight frown, “You don’t need to repay shit, Em. I didn’t tell you all that crap yesterday to gain something from you, especially not something that’s obviously making you uncomfortable– ‘cause yeah, I’d have to be an idiot not to have realised how your shoulders have pinched higher and higher the closer we’ve gotten to wherever the fuck we’re headed.” 

Letting slip a faint chuckle at his slight grimace, my eyes roamed over his side profile, willing him to look back at me and see the sincerity I felt. 

“But telling you about my sister and my past, that was me letting you in, alright? Means we’re friends now, even if you don’t see that. And, you’ve let me into your life too, in your own odd way– into your home even. So whatever you think this is,” I paused to shake my head at his stupidity and couldn’t seem to help the heavy exhale I then let go of, “I don’t know, just. I don’t want it, Marshall.”

Silence settled for a stuttered moment. There, there, there until–

“I know.” He sighed, fingers gripping the wheel a little harder in his evident struggle to form an actual reply, so I gave him another second or two to recite whatever it was that he wanted to say. Like usual, Marshall came through, “I know it ain’t like that. This bullshit truth for a truth thing, I never meant it like that. Just–” 

He released another weighted breath, this time it fanned out into a self-deprecating chuckle as he shook his head at himself. I waited in perch, breath captured somewhere between my lips and lungs. 

“This shit’s jus’ weird for me, yeah. I mean, all my guys are people I grew up with here, the same ones I’ve known since before I met Dre, since ‘fore high school even. I kept them round ‘cause I just couldn’t trust the people in this game, you know. But I did try. Tried bringin’ people in after Z got old enough to realise that me and her mom weren’t never gone work out, but that shit never stuck. They see all this and then they pull away ‘cause they realise too quick that this dump is me, that the man with the money is just that. A man that don’t have to just survive no more. That the cash and the rest of all that bullshit is just something that’s there. ‘Cause it aint never been about that for me, I said it from the start. This stretch of road is the place that raised me. That made me. They don’t understand why I can’t turn my back on that.”

I understood what he was saying in a way. I mean, I didn’t have his level of fame, nor had I been in the game for as long as he had. The man was an icon, not just in his genre but to the kids and the people who had grown up in poverty, who’d been seen as the outcasts. 

But still, it was always hard to see just how far past that line you’d drawn in the sand for yourself that the people you let into your life would get. 

Sometimes, they just bulldozed on through it before you’d even known that you’d been letting them toe at it. 

“I wouldn’t ask that of you.” I murmured after a beat, trying to control the way my chest had torn itself a new hole, something that only tended to happen whenever I let people slip so surely past my own defences. “And I know that you know that, Em. I mean, I’ve listened to your music, heard you even talk a bit about your life before this. So I can sort of comprehend how hard it must be for you to allow me this. But again, you don’t have to.” I assured him with a fond smile, humoured by his rational fear. “You could take me to the studio and we could work on lyrics, or we could just go grab some ice-cream. I’d be happy with whatever, so don’t go beating yourself up over this.”

I laughed lightly afterwards, the sound escaping me almost involuntarily at the thought that then hit me, and felt how my eyes wrinkled with the emotion when he turned to peer over at me. “Also, that was probably the most I’ve heard you talk since I got here.”

Surprisingly, his response to that was to just toss the closest thing he had in my general direction, which ended up being a pink pencil of Rosie’s that had been sitting in the cup holder, its top accented by a feather boa. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

Chuckling away, even though he’d managed to target the pencil somewhere between my collar and sternum, I turned to flash him another grin, mostly just to quietly reassure him that I’d been honest with my previous response and that nothing much had changed with him admitting what he had. “You made up your mind then?”

Marshall’s brow furrowed a tad.

I puffed out another disbelieving laugh, “On where we’re headed. Because I should let you know now that I get motion sick after a while.” It was funny at just how quickly his head snapped round to face me at that, looking vaguely alarmed. I snorted in turn and raised my hands up in a mocking show, “Just saying!”

Em shook his head, appearing forever hassled by me. But then those blue eyes of his strayed back on over and I noted how they’d now taken on a whole new sheen. “Come on then, fangirl. Tell me, the numbers 19946 mean something to you?”

I could only blink in answer but apparently that was all that Marshall had needed as he’d laughed around a growing smirk and slowly pulled into the upcoming street reading Dresden.

I didn’t recognise the name, but he hadn’t been wrong in assuming that I’d know those specific numbers. Although, who wouldn’t when they’d been hung above his head on multiple album covers?

Still it was more than a little surreal to me as we drove on closer, dirt slipping under the SUV’s bulky wheels and wilting trees no taller than me passing us by. I kept on glancing around to try and spot the famous build but was surprised to see a condemned lot waiting for us instead of a row full of houses sat on one side. 

Eventually, the car rolled to a slow stop at a roundabout the midway mark, the street practically empty, aside from the few vehicles parked outside of the neighbouring bungalows and those which lined the low curb. It appeared as though the building I’d been searching for had since been charred and had caved in on itself, leaving only a rubble of brick and a lone standing fence removed of all paint in its wake.

I couldn’t help myself as I unbuckled my seatbelt to turn my bemused expression over towards the man perched beside me. But Em had since turned off the car, his own stare caught on the site the same way mine had. 

“Fire.” He said after some time, the low hum of his voice slipping easily throughout the silence we’d since enveloped into, “State owns it now but they tried to contact me after it happened, seein’ if I wanted to bid or some shit.”

I kept quiet, eyes raking over his face which had since taken on a neutral expression, hands laying still in his lap. Not many could relate to seeing their childhood home condemned, I mean I couldn’t. I'd left our tiny flat on the estate the second I’d gotten the chance and had only returned when Lottie had come along, my hate for it growing greater and greater the longer I’d stayed copped up there. When I’d gotten the money off of my first real deal the first thing I’d done was rent the house my mum lived in now, managing to buy it a year or so later just so that Lotts would have an actual home to grow up in, seeing as though I wouldn’t always be around.

“Hurt, I think.” Em admitted with a slow blink, pulling me from my thoughts. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but this here was the one place I considered ours. Why it made the album I guess. That, and it looked tough.” 

We shared a small smile when his eyes flickered over to mine for a split second. 

“This why you made it the second cover too then?” I pondered, leaning in closer against the centre console almost thoughtlessly.

Marshall shook his head minutely, thumb flicking over his forefinger once, twice, three times. “Nah, coincidence. Happened a couple days after the release.”

“Mad.” I breathed out and though it had been an unconscious reaction it garnered an airy chuckle out of the man beside me.

“No shit,” Marshall hummed in turn, mouth twitching ever so. “I mean, didn’t expect it but it felt like some sort of weird sign from the universe.” 

I couldn’t help but silently agree with the statement, dragging my gaze away from the lot when the audible click of his seatbelt coming undone sounded. “You been back since?” I asked. It was October now, so almost a year later.

A dip of his chin gave me my answer, before his jaw then ticked beneath gritted teeth. He dragged in a long breath then let it go. “It was a dump even before the fire, all boarded up– had been for years.” He told me, his voice low, “Can remember a lot happenin’ here though.”

My head tilted towards him at the quiet admission and my smile answered it in the same soft ease, “Oh yeah, like what?”

He took a moment to think it through, then this smile etched itself a home on his lips. “Nate, my brother. I remember ma coming home with him from the hospital, seeing the kid wrapped up in this big blue blanket. Man, he was this tiny thing. Jus’ couldn’t wrap my head around it.” He wet his lower lip and his eyes darted back over to the property as though he could visualise it all playing out again, “I was like thirteen, I think. Had been waitin’ for her to get back from, wherever the hell she’d been– ‘cause see, ain’t nobody told me that the woman had even gone into fuckin’ labour.” 

The laugh that trickled out of him at that was unbelieving, as though he still couldn’t accept that fact even now. My own smile grew a little wider. 

“Was here that I wrote my first real song, too.” Marshall revealed after a brief pause, blue eyes meeting mine just before his shoulders slumped a tad, “‘d been writing for years ‘fore that but nothing I was truly excited by, you know. Actually ended up usin’ parts of it in a battle a couple years later, can’t remember against who though, but it stuck with me.” 

I could picture that. A baby Em cooped up in his bedroom writing away for hours on end, losing himself in the words and their meanings. Finally feeling like he’d managed to create something people might react to. 

“Remember it now?” I asked him with an impish grin, my tone teasing but even I wouldn’t say no to a little rendition. But alas, he simply shook his head. Although, I was gifted a round of effortless chuckles. I shrugged, “Worth a try.”

Rolling his eyes, Marshall allowed his arm to come to rest right beside my own on the console stationed between us, he looked to me, “And here I figured you’d grow bored with all this crap.”

My mouth parted in a playful gasp, though there was a big part of me that was really shocked he’d even thought it. “Bored? You could go show me a dumpster you shat behind and I’d be like ‘ah right, that’s cool’.”

He levelled me with an unimpressed stare that had me choking back a cackle. It was almost too easy with him.

“Fine, maybe not.” I relented with another grin as I nudged my arm against his, “But, I don’t know. I’m intrigued, is all. I like knowing shit about the people I care for, even the weird parts. Like, take my mate Sal, yeah? I’ve known him since we were youngens and this guy was always up to something dodgy, but after his nan passed he kind of just dropped off the face of the Earth. None of us heard from him for ages.” I revealed, my own gaze straying back towards the lot, picturing a two storey town house stood there instead. “Didn’t know it before, but he’d lived with the woman his whole life, she’d raised him. So when she moved on, it was like he had nothing left to live for, you know?”

I figured most, if not everyone, had gotten to a point like that at some time or other. Though Sal had been fifteen back then and that had ultimately meant care and getting social services involved, and for a kid like him with a few dots on his record, it had been hell. 

“I went round and knocked a couple days before the funeral, but he didn’t open up. Neighbour said she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since the paramedics had arrived the week before.” It felt weird explaining this now, not when I hadn’t thought about it in so long, but I wanted Marshall to understand where I was coming from and this was the first story that had come to mind. “I ended up grabbing Danny and had him kick Sal’s back door in– which had been impressive if you’d have known the kid before he enlisted. Scrawny as fuck our Dan, but built like a beanpole.”

Em huffed out an amused chuckle through his nose, recapturing my attention. My eyes slid over to him and I smiled, noticing I’d lost myself a little there.

“Anyway,” I tittered, shaking my head ever so, “I ended up finding Sal upstairs in the tub. He hadn’t been about to do anything stupid, mind, was just sort of sat there staring into nothing. Hardly even recognized me when I finally shook him out of it, but then I managed to get him down the stairs and into the kitchen. We made tea, I forced him to chew on some toast, and it was then that the dam broke, I ‘spose. He just let it all go. Everything he’d been feeling.” 

I swallowed at the memory even then, of the tears and the snot, the way Sal’s eyes had kept drifting away. But then Marshall’s arm was pressing closer to mine and the touch drew me back to the present.

Blinking, I peered back at the man. “Eventually, he sobered up and sort of apologised for the state he was in. But it hadn’t bothered me none. Got him up and walking about, and he took that as a sign to show me about the house. Sort of like going down memory lane.” 

I laughed softly then, unable to help myself, none of us had ever visited Sal’s in all the years we’d known him but somehow I’d been lucky enough to have been the first. 

“They had this height thing in their kitchen doorway that measured Sal’s growth throughout the years. Fucker went from 5’4 the year of ‘96 before the next indent of change had been jotted down. 6’1,” I told Em around a humorous grin, vividly picturing the multicoloured markings, “He’d always been lanky, would have fit better as a ladder than the trady he now worked as.” I let slip, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “But less than a year had passed between the two measurements and all I can remember is us just laughing about it. And then about how his nan hadn’t even managed to reach 4 foot 10.”

Marshall’s chuckles filled up the car, easing the emotions I’d gone and dredged up. “How ‘bout now?”

I thought about it. I hadn’t seen Sal in a couple months, but he was my go-to whenever I needed something doing, a proper handyman and somewhat on the straight and narrow. “Uh, hitting that 6’6 mark now. I think?”

Em blew out a long breath. “Shit.”

Laughing, I couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. “Yeah, he towered above everyone at school and that was before I left, so I couldn’t even imagine the leaver’s pictures.”

Our amusement radiated between us, our arms still pressing tightly against one another even though the console could have fit a whole other arm either side of us. The radio’s hum was kept low and so I heard the slight rustle Em’s trousers made when he moved and his knee pushed against the dash. “You left?”

Stupidly, it took me a minute to understand his question and when I did I ended up dipping my head in a show of reply. It wasn’t something I was proud of, leaving school, nor embarrassed about, but it wasn’t something I spoke about very much. Especially not since I’d garnered a base full of dedicated fans. It was one thing to say you didn’t like school but to admit you’d practically dipped and failed out was another thing altogether.

“How old was you?” Marshall asked, looking genuinely curious.

I toyed with the cuff of my sleeve, thinking back on it. “Uh, fourteen? I think.”

“Wow.” He blew out, then grinned, “Got me beat.”

It was the last thing I expected him to come out with, but it was what I’d needed. I laughed before I glanced over at him, a little surprised to find him already looking back. “Why, how old were you?”

“Seventeen.” Em admitted, lips tugging up on one side far enough to form a small crater in the hollow of his cheek, before he let it go and released a huffed chuckle, “Failed the ninth grade three times over. Figured I’d just stick to what I was good at.”

Music, I figured, and thank God for that.

“I just hated it.” I replied, voice breathy but steady. “Messed with my head and I had shit going on at home. Figured it was easier to leave it all, so I did.” I shifted in my seat then, peering at him, “Went to three different schools before they sent me to this pavilion place, full of kids who’d been excluded or were on their last chance. I’d never been a bad student, was smart enough when I applied myself, but I had bigger shit to worry about, you know? Didn’t have time to waste mucking about.”

Marshall hummed in a show of understanding, those piercing eyes of his stuck on mine. “I get it.”

And I knew that he did. There was no judgement or pity, just a shit ton of compassion. The sight of it made me smile and I let go of a small chuckle that had been lurking, gaze flicking away and then back to him again.

Marshall broke the silence that settled after his words, smile smug as he reached for the car’s door, “You wanna walk?”

Eager, I agreed.

–

The sun was still rather high in the sky when we finished Marshall’s short tour of his old neighbourhood. The pair of us had wandered around the rubble, looking for anything that stood out or caught the eye, he guessed whereabouts his bedroom would have been had the house still been standing and let me in on the secret to slipping in and out of its creaky window. We walked a little further down the street after to look out across the large football pitch the block of bungalows surrounded and Em pointed out 7 mile, a stretch of road which separated Dresden from the Baptist church on the opposing side, explaining how he remembered walking it to and from school. 

The many American road signs humoured me to no end and I’d told Marshall so on the way back to the car, hand tucked in our pockets to better shield them from the October winds. “You hungry?” He asked me just as the door rattled closed behind him, already moving to start up the car and get the heat going, “Need gas, gonna stop by the next place we see. That cool?”

I nodded, buckling in. “Could go for something sweet.”

“Shit, and here I was thinking I was sweet enough.”

Gagging theatrically at that gross reply, Marshall snorted at my antics and then shifted the car into gear, pulling away from the curb and away from the lot that once was 19946.

We ended up ducking into a 7-Eleven just off an intersection a while into our drive to… wherever it was we were headed next. Em jumped out first to fill up the tank whilst I waited by the car’s hood, content to just people watch. Soon enough I heard the clunk that let you know that the cylinder was full before I glanced over to watch Marshall jiggle the hose back into its place. The man looked up at the gas pump’s number just before he gestured his head towards the store, joining me on his way over.

It wasn’t too busy, I noted as soon as we stepped through the entrance. There was just an older dude standing over by the fridges full of alcohol and then a kid trying to get his mum to buy him a pack of Takis whilst she struggled with her purse and attempted to keep him in line.

Marshall wandered straight on over to the confectionary aisle and so I followed, eyes surveying the many shelves for anything I might like. Em plucked up a couple candies, some of which I hadn’t seen before, as well as some cherry Twizzlers. I steered clear of the chocolate, never having been a fan of the stuff they sold here, it being so different from those back home, and instead opted for a pack of Sour Patch Kids. Em pulled a face at the selection, which had me rolling my eyes even as I cradled the packet a little closer to hide the sour babies from his horrific judgement. 

“Anything else?” I asked, glancing about the store. It wasn’t too often I got to step into one of these in truth, the last time I’d been on tour and even then my manager, Mila, had been a stress head about it.

With a jerk of his chin, Marshall started to lead me further into the store, past a display case of bakery items and a freezer chock full of ice-creams, and over to where a couple of drink machines were stationed. I raised a brow at the bright assortment of colours I was met with.

Em smirked at the face I must have worn, then pointed towards the many cups that had my eyes widening even further.

“If I got this one I’d need to piss every five minutes.” I marvelled, taking in the Big Gulp cup they offered whilst shaking my head.

Marshall snorted and went to grab at it anyways, “Come on, pussy. We can share.” He then gestured towards the flavours, “Which one you feelin’?”

Still reeling a little at the whole sharing bit, I allowed my eyes to dance over the few levers. The amount of flavours they offered was a little daunting, I couldn’t lie, so with a lost expression I turned back to Em, who looked all too amused by my sudden anxiety. I swatted at his arm with the back of my hand in playful retaliation, “There’s like a hundred.” I hissed out, throwing a glance over my shoulder to see if anyone was around.

“Okay.” Marshall merely dragged out in retort, still smirking away, “Might have been a drop out but I know you can count.” That quip earned him a surprised glare which he just brushed off as he moved closer towards the machine, “Figure we go simple, ight? Next time we can switch it up.”

“Next time?” I wondered as he stuck the cup under the Blue Raspberry fountain, which settled things. Because who didn’t like Blue Raspberry anyway?

Em grunted out a hum, finishing off the slurpee with a slight swirl that had me smiling, figuring that there was a technique to it. “Here for two weeks, gonna load you up on sugar. So best prepare.”

Snorting, I just shook my head at him as he stuck a straw in the drink’s top and began trailing his way over to the counter. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked whilst he lingered by the gum options, waiting for the guy by the till to wrap up his purchase.

Looking over at me, he grinned, “Gotta give you some incentive to come back, right? Slurpees a sure way.”

I couldn’t bite back the laugh that escaped me at that, grin widening even as my eyes narrowed a tad. “Reckon Rosie’s enough to have me visiting again.”

Marshall slapped the hand that wasn’t holding the frozen drink to his chest and gave me a mock look of shock, “I’m wounded.”

It was then that the door sounded and I glanced backwards to see the earlier man headed out of it, Em caught on too and slid on over to the till after he’d grabbed a pack of spearmint and some sort of gummy. 

“Just this and pump 7. Thanks.” He said to the cashier, settling everything he’d been holding down onto the counter before he reached for the sweets I held. I would’ve kicked up more of a fuss about him paying yet again. But my gaze had already been captured by the cashier and how he was now watching Marshall.

“You that rapper?” The man asked as he started to scan our items. Nervously, my eyes flitted back and forth between the worker and Em, the latter who looked up at the guy for a long second before he dipped his head curtly.

“Yeah, man.” Marshall answered him, lips quirking up politely as he made a grab for his back pocket to grab his wallet.

The cashier let out a huh, “Didn’t think you’d ever be back in these parts. Not with your girl at least.”

I blinked at the assumption he’d made of us but Em breezed on past it, shooting the other man a quick smile. “Ain’t like that, it’s home, man.”

Nodding, the cashier’s fingers worked their way over the till, “Like your shit. Honour to meet you, brother. You too.” He added as his gaze moved over to me, which earned him a genuine smile from both Marshall and I. Mostly because I knew straight away that he had no clue as to who I was, and was simply including me in the sentiment seeing how I was with Em. It took a lot of respect to garner that sort of reaction from people, the cashier’s sincerity stretching out onto the people Marshall just knew.

“Appreciate it.” Marshall told him, clapping the man’s hand in one of those manly shakes guys seemed to do before the cashier then handed over our Slurpee and the rest of our purchases.

“It was good meeting y'all.”

Em stepped back at the obvious farewell, but before I could move to follow him, I jumped forward instead, eyes grazing over the Lotto tickets the store offered. “Can I also get two scratchers, please?”

I felt Marshall’s stare linger on me but didn’t bother looking back as the man behind the counter stepped on over towards the case, “Any specific number?”

Thinking, I licked at my lower lip before I ultimately shook my head, “Your pick.”

With a quick glance over the array of cards, the man tore off two scratchers and settled them down, typing out the total for me. I tapped my card on the reader and then picked up one of the tickets before turning swiftly on my heel.

“Hey!” The cashier called out just as I reached Marshall, the man having hovered a foot behind me the entire time, “You left this.”

I continued to walk towards the exit though, but did stop to flash a grin back over my shoulder, “It’s all yours!”

His mouth parted for a second in obvious confusion, stare dropping down to the ticket he held, and before he could deny it, I was grabbing Em’s hand in mine and leading him out, waving the other man a goodbye.

“Don’t even know if he can take that.” Marshall mentioned once we reached the car, forcing out a disbelieving chuckle as we slipped inside.

Shrugging in reply, I allowed him to pass off the bag to me and watched as he settled the Slurpee in the cupholder alongside the pencil I’d since returned. 

“Where to now?” I questioned, clipping my belt before I handed over the remaining scratcher. Em frowned down at it, so I nodded to prompt him into taking it, “Used to get them with mum when I was younger, we’d get one and then take turns scratching it off. Last time had been mine, but it's been a long while since we mentioned it, let alone bought one. So I’m passing on the tradition. Your go.”

Marshall, for the first time, actually looked beyond stumped, watching me with a heavy gaze, seeming to understand what I was giving away here before he slowly reached out to take the ticket from between my fingers. 

“Go on,” I urged with another smile, tilting my chin at him. “See what you won.”

“If.” Em corrected gently, but did as told, taking his keys and using a stubby silver cut to scratch at the foil. He looked it over once it was clear, then with a small smile handed it back to me. “Five bucks.” He said, buckling in and checking his mirrors before we set off.

I grinned triumphantly and didn’t hold back on my “I told you so.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the grin behind the hem of his hood as he pulled away from the pump, but before I could actually point it out, our attention was then caught by a frantic waving of arms. 

Simultaneously, both Marshall and I’s gazes snapped over to the cashier we’d just left, spotting him all but dangling out of the store’s night-pay window. Marshall was hasty in rolling down his own, stopping the car just before we could roll past.

“I won!” The guy hollered across the lot, “I fucking won!”

I giggled at his excited face, the pure joy that left him in waves. An utter contrast to the chill cashier we’d just been talking to moments before. And couldn’t believe it. 

“Spend it wisely, brother!” Marshall called back to him and there was no mistaking the giant grin that overwhelmed his face as he watched the other man come close to tears, clutching the ticket I’d left for him.

“I fucking won!”

Marshall and I shared a look and by the time we managed to drive away, I was still in a cloud of disbelief. Awed by the reaction and how one gesture had changed another person's life. Em must have felt it too, because he looked over at me and took my hand in his, squeezing ever so whilst still wearing that grin.

And was it stupid of me to admit, if only to myself, that I felt like I’d gone and won the lottery then too?

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 5: The Fantastic Mrs. Fox pt. 1

Words: 4.3k

Summary: Carmy deals with his nightmares while you deal with your family.

a/n: This is more fluff but I'll make it up with smut on the next one ;) Hope you enjoy! xx

PS. Reader is latina in this and if you are too, you’ll probably understand the families…

He could not remember the last time his lungs didn’t ache from the lack of air. It felt like he could finally catch a decent breath and his neck wasn’t strained from its constant outstretched position, trying to hold his head above the murky water before it pulled him under the current. The pressure in his chest was rubbed away by dexterous fingers covered in velvet clay as you molded him into one of your beautiful art pieces, fingerprints permanently etched into his surface.

He didn’t want to give credit of his newly found good mood to whatever you two had, he wasn’t the kind to let anyone influence over his emotions. Many years of abusive behavior in the world’s best kitchens had made him believe he was above all that. He could whisk a Hollandaise sauce by hand in less than a minute, while some entitled asshole butchered his self esteem with every word and yet it would still be the best shit that had left that kitchen. He didn’t believe he was above it, he knew.

And yet, a single ‘hope ur having a great day xx’ text from you was enough to dissipate the boiling irritation beginning to grow after a very shitty day, the simple sentence curling his lips into a small smile.

The week had been going smoothly. Apart from the day where he had to break the news to the team that you wouldn’t be coming back to work due to… personal priorities, everything had been smooth sailing. At least as smooth as it can be when the ship is held by duct tape and is constantly on fire. The payment on their meat deliveries was finally up to date, meaning that they could order more product, which in turn meant more sales for the restaurant. 

He called you after closing and while he finished scrubbing a few grimey spots on the floor he told you the good news. You were just as excited as he was, probably even more, because this meant that his plan to turn The Beef into a respectable business was finally starting to take shape. 

In a low whisper you told him how glad you were and when he answered that ‘there’s still so much more left to do’, you replied with ‘Yeah, but that’s one less thing to worry about. I’m really proud of you for it.’

Your words had trickled through his veins, sticky sweet invading his body and keeping him warm as he drove home and settled on his couch to rest his eyes.

The warmth, however, had now dissipated into thin slivers of distress that circled his throat and constricted his airway. Mirages of blinding white tiles and glistening stainless steel haunted his vision, no matter how hard he closed his eyes. A booming voice that sounded like his own but laced with unknown malice vibrated in his skull and crept under his skin as it repeated the familiar mantra for the tenth time in a row, ‘Mikey was wrong, you can’t handle it’. The taste of smoke filled his lungs, drawing heavy droplets of water from his eyes and forcing him to the floor, heaving in desperation. Roaring flames invaded his view, crawling up the walls and swallowing everything around him in an angry orange blaze.

Carmy’s body jerked awake, wild eyes scanning the dark surrounding for the immediate threat. The lulling sounds of the cooking channel were no more than static to the ringing in his ears and the tang of inexistent smoke felt heavy inside his mouth. He rubbed his eyes ferociously, hoping this would clear the image of his burning kitchen now carved into his mind. Through the cloudy haze of adrenaline and angst, his own thoughts seemed far in the distance, like he was floating away from his own existence, like if nothing was real.

A pang in his chest made him grip over his heart with shaky fingers, the all too familiar bile beginning to strut its way up his trachea at the intrusive thought that maybe you too had been a vision fabricated by his fucked up head. It would only make sense, how someone as perfect as you had just suddenly appeared like a lifeline, bright and beautiful, taking a liking to him of all people. Maybe he had finally lost his marbles, The Beef and everyone in that fucking place had finally broken him,

“Okay, okay, okay, get your shit together.” He mumbled to himself and rubbed a hand over his sweat covered face. 

He tried to breathe in as deeply as he could with his aching lungs, hold it in then exhale shakily, like he had once read in one of those psychology posts that seemed irrelevant until now. With fingers pressing tightly against his temples, he continued the breathing exercises until he no longer felt like his chest would concave into a black hole. He dragged his other hand to the space between his torso and the backrest of the couch where he could feel the hard surface of his phone and unlocked it with slight trembling fingers.

His thumb hovered over the call button in your contact info, doubting if he should inconvenience you with his mental crap, especially at four in the morning. Instead, he moved to his gallery where the bright image contrasted between pictures of gloomy skylines and invoice reminders. Bright green gelée with vibrant edible violets stared back at him through the lit up screen while he readjusted himself in the small sofa, the pastry soothed the turmoil of negative thoughts regarding your existence and served as the confirmation his head needed to allow his worked up body some desired rest.

**********

It was Sweep’s turn to play the music for the day, and while normally he would just tune it out until service hours, the insistent bass mixed with his sleep deprivation, drilled a consistent hole right between his brows.

“Yo chef, turn that shit down, will ya?” He asked Syd, who stood close to the radio, cutting onions.

Despite their system functioning slightly better, Carmy couldn’t help being on edge from the moment he walked through the door, expecting anything and everything to go wrong. He could blame the nightmare still fresh in his mind, but he knew the sudden waves of anxiety had begun way before forcefully inheriting The Beef. Somewhere between New York and Noma.

Remnants of the conversation with his sister the week before surfaced from the shallow water and he remembered the pamphlets he had been skimming over right before discarding them completely when you had gone in to quit. A soft smile covered his face as the memories of everything that happened that night replayed in his head, then he cleared his throat to cover it up. 

He finished dicing the vegetables for the giardiniera with mechanical ease, then threw everything in a low pot with vinegar, water, salt, pepper and a few bay leaves, leaving it to simmer. When he asked Tina to watch it for him, he only received a soft grunt as a response, which he answered with a ‘thank you, T.’ and retrieved into the office to find the pamphlets and give another good look over them. 

Maybe Sugar wasn’t so crazy to suggest Al-Anon Family. God knows he needed somewhere to vent after all the shit that had happened in the past couple months. He was never the type to ‘talk about it’, no one in his family was, which was probably the biggest reason why the thing with his brother had happened. He was used to swallowing it down, whether it was his brother’s rejection or the constant verbal assault of America’s Next Top Chef Imbecile. He was used to keeping it controlled, letting it simmer slowly in the depths of his stomach, until it reduced into a thick red paste that invaded his veins and darkened his vision. 

Before the voice in the back of his head convinced him that ‘It wasn’t worth it’ and that ‘all you need to do is man up, not fuckin therapy’, he saved the number in bold black letters to his contacts for safe keeping, promising himself he’d call during his next break.

Three soft knocks on the flimsy material of the open door caught his attention as he saved the papers into one of the many crowded drawers. He turned around in his chair and a new wave of found air reached his lungs. 

“Hey ” You whispered, stepping into the small space, bottom lip caught in your teeth. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey…” He breathed in, and for the first time in a while, he felt like the oxygen had finally filled his lungs. “N-no, no, no, of course not. What’s up?”

Carmy stood from his seat with renewed energy, stretching a hand to caress your forearm but stopped himself midway when he remembered that you hadn’t really talked about how you would approach this new situation whenever you visited the restaurant. Your eyes flickered to his stagnant hand and your grip around a grease stained cardboard box tightened. You threw a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure no one was looking, then softly pushed the door closed with your boot, until you heard a click. Immediately after, you carelessly dropped the box on his desk and circled your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to your hungry lips. His arms automatically closed around your form and a soft hum escaped your throat as you melted into his warm embrace. It was absurd how quickly he had gotten used to the tender movements of your silky lips on his, because at that moment, he could not remember how he had lived so long deprived of such a delightful experience. 

A light laugh escaped your mouth when your side hit the edge of his desk after he unconsciously spun you in the small space.

You pulled your face to take a few deep breaths as well as calm your thundering heartbeat, and when you finally opened your eyes, he swore you held the entire cosmos inside the dark, glittering voids.

“I just came to drop off family, but this is nice too.” You joked under your breath and he followed along.

“Hmm..what’d you make?”

“Empanadas.” You answered with a warm smile and reached for the forgotten box behind you. “See?” A savory scent invaded his nose from the moment you opened the lid, his stomach registering the estranged sensation of hunger after the long day.

“Shit… that smells fire.”

“You wanna take one now? Knowing them, there won’t be many left.”

“Oh no thanks, I’m good.”

You stared at him with a blank expression, then pushed the open box to him. You looked at him expectantly, then at the box and back at him. He sighed but reached into it and took one, placing it over a closed binder on his desk.

“Happy?” 

“Mhm, very.” You answered with a satisfied smile, standing on your toes and giving him a chaste kiss. “So, whatcha lookin’ at?” You ask, dropping your bag over the familiar spot.

Carmy let you go and sat back down on the revolving chair with a sigh, analyzing how much of the truth he should tell you. He wasn’t sure if you knew about Mikey and all the shit that had gone down. From what he remembered, you had come in when the waters had finally settled and only the disaster after the storm remained. 

The same wrenching feeling from the night before invaded his mind at the thought of dragging you into his mess.

“Just uhm…” He rubbed his face with his elbows resting on his thighs “Some accounting stuff I can’t get my head around.” He answered instead.

Your soft touch combed through the knotted curls of his hair, careful fingers massaged the neglected scalp and an involuntary sigh parted his lips. It’s like the simple act had triggered his neck to lose hold on his head because soon he felt the soft fabric of your shirt pressed against his forehead and eyes as you stood in front of him, massaging his worries away. You stepped between his separated legs, racking your nails from his scalp down his neck and to his tense shoulders, disarming him completely. The swell in his chest grew for a very different reason when he realized just how touch starved he truly was, as he could not remember the last time someone had treated him with such tenderness and care. If there ever was such a time.

“Maybe you just need some rest…” You said softly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

His hands rubbed absentmindedly along the length of your thighs, humming in response to your caring words. He rose his head from its comfortable place to look up at you. You smiled delicately down at him and cupped his face between your hands, then placed a loving kiss in the valley of his eye brows.

That was enough for the lock that guarded the Pandora’s box in the back of his darkened mind to break in two. His mouth parted lightly as the Adam's apple in his throat grew two sizes too big for words to escape, and he knew, though not if it was good or bad, that no one else would ever top the rush of emotions you had made him experience with such a simple gesture.

Your brows raised in confusion at his expression. “What?” You asked through a nervous laugh.

He shook his head with a light smile, gripping tightly at your hips where his hands had stopped, then stood from his chair.

“C’mon, let go feed these fuckers.”

Carmy placed his hand on your lower back as the other held on to the box, then after you opened the office door, you walked to the dining area where most of the bustle came from.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in and left to die!” Richie’s voice boomed above everyone else's, making the team turn in your direction.

There was a sudden screech of chairs as the group got up to greet you with enthusiasm, the sound made Carmy’s small migraine pulse but the sight of your excited expression soothed it back down.

“Look at you, all pretty in your blue aprons!” You said between laughs scanning your ex coworkers’ uniforms.

“Jeff says it compliments my eyes.” Tina joked, batting her lashes up at you.

“He couldn’t be more right.” You answered, hugging her side and turning to him with beaming eyes. 

Marcus took the box from Carmy’s hands excitedly, opening it on his way to the table and setting it in the middle for all to take.

“Yo, these look sick! You made them?” He asked you after everyone had settled back down and you took a seat between Carmy and Syd.

“Yeah, well, my grandad helped. They good?”

“Tastes like shit..” Ebra mumbled through a mouthful of dough and everyone laughed.

“They’re actually an invitation-”

“I accept.” He interrupted and you snickered lightly.

“Where to?” Marcus asked.

“My grandpa’s turning 76 tomorrow. I was supposed to invite you guys like two weeks ago but I kinda forgot. So as long as you don’t tell my mother, I’ll make sure you leave on the verge of alcohol poisoning and with enough food for three days..”

He heard a few ‘Niceee’ from the youngests of the group, while Angel tried bargaining the amount of rations per person and failing miserably, bumping it down to two days and receiving a light smack in the head from Manny.

“Wow, wait I don’t think I can make it. I gotta work tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, me too babe, sorry.”

Marcus and Sweeps let you know and when he turned to you, he could see your brows drop very slightly in disappointment.

“Yeah, I think we’re all on the clock tomorrow…” Richie said from his corner of the table.

“O-oh” He saw you swallow slowly, then smile softly to hide your expression. “No biggie, then. I’ll just tell her you’re all busy, she’ll understand.”

A few sorry’s spread through the group as they continued eating. 

He remembered Tina had asked him for Sunday off a week ago and so did Sydney, so he assumed they would be there, but he knew how much it meant to you that everyone could go. They were your other family, after all.

Without overthinking it, the words bubbled in his throat, spilling over the edge before he could stop them.

“We could close.”

The movements stopped completely when everyone turned around to him, stunned. He cleared his throat out of nervousness from the sudden attention, then spoke again.

“For dinner, I mean.” He specified.

“Seriously?” Syd asked in surprise. “Cause even with our off days we’ve been opening daily for the past, what like two and a half months?”

“Yeah, but we’re finally up to date with the meat sourcers and we have at least a two week parachute to keep us off the ground.” Carmy flicked his eyes to your confused face, then back to the group. “Plus, I think we’ve all earned a good rest, right?”

The family erupted in delight at the good news, clear skies ahead as they felt they were almost out of the woods. Besides, no one could say no to a night of free food and booze.

While they finished eating, they arranged plans on how to carpool for the next day or on who would be the unlucky idiot to be the designated driver, at least out of the ones that could drive. Under the table, Carmy snuck his hand to rest over your knee, slow enough to not catch the attention of the crew, and yours cupped over it gingerly. A glowing smile covered your features when you looked at him, mouthing a very much heartfelt ‘Thank you’, that reached the dingiest parts of his tethered soul and appeased the flames bubbling in his core.

**********

You had not known a single moment of peace since the second your mother barged into your room to throw the covers off you around eight, nagging on how late it was for you to still be in bed at that hour. You could hear the familiar Spanish ballads playing on the TV, which indicated it was Sunday morning in your household; as well as the rowdy laughter of your aunts, scraping pans around as they made breakfast for everyone in the crowded apartment.

The morning was spent between answering personal questions about your dating life and hauling decorations down the multiple flights of stairs into the patio beside the complex. After bribing the maintenance guy with twenty dollars and the promise of free booze, he agreed to let you use the space in private for the afternoon, even helping you hang the string of paper decorations around the available tree branches and offering an extension cord for the fairy lights. Joshua carried most of the tables and chairs, ones he borrowed from a friend of his who owned a rental shop and after half an hour of figuring out the best layout, you were finally done. 

You were quite proud of the turnout. The mismatched chairs and different colored tableware felt warm and inviting, just like the red carnations that sat in the makeshift wine vases along the main table. Your heart warmed at the sight of your grandmother’s favorite flowers, before closing the backdoor and walking up one last time to eat something then get ready.

“So, is your boyfriend coming?” Joshua broke the silence as you passed the second floor.

“The fuck are you on?” You asked back, a soft tint rising up your neck.

He turned around from a few steps above you and snickered. “C’mon, Fox. I saw him drop you off the other day.” His smile grew when he saw you swallow hard and that was confirmation enough. “I’m not telling ma, jus’ so  y’know.”

“I know you won’t,” Your step quickened up a few stairs, then you kicked his right foot to his left while it was in the air, causing him to almost trip on himself. “cause if you do, I'll tell her about the time you and Nico took the car to go see titties and you were almost arrested.” 

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Dude, that was like two years ago, when will you let it go?!”

“When you two incels pay me back the bribe I had to give the bouncer so he wouldn’t call the cops on your asses!”

“Alright, fine! I won’t say shit..”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought…”

“What do you care anyway?” You asked after a few silence filled seconds.

“I don’t, '' he answered defensively. “Just makin’ sure it’s not that tall asshole from your job.”

Now it was your turn to snicker. “Who Richie?”

Your little brother shrugged and the story Richie had told you on your first day, about the nerd that punched Carmy, came back to mind. A malicious smirk curled on your lips as you reached your floor, one hand lifting to pat sarcastically up on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry bout it weasel, it’s not Richie… It’s the other one.” You said, walking ahead of him. “The one you punched, ‘member?”

You heard the squeak of his sneakers at the sudden stop and you had to bite your cheek to not burst into laughter as you crossed the open apartment door.

A wave of scents and sounds invaded your senses the moment you walked through the threshold, overwhelming to the point of a starting headache. It also didn’t help that all your stomach had processed was a cup of coffee a couple hours ago and that you had wasted most of your energy running up and down trying to make everything look presentable. You crossed the hallway and moved directly to the kitchen to find something to eat before getting ready. 

You were greeted by the welcome committee of your three matriarchs, all working on a different recipe around the counter, covered to the brim in ingredients.

“Ay, mi amor, you grew so tall!” Angie called excitedly the moment she saw you walk in.

“I've been the same size since senior year, tia, but thank you.” You laughed, hugging her shoulders softly to not move her hands cutting up veggies.

“Ya terminaron?” Your mother asked, kneading some dough inside a bowl.

You pulled a pear from the fruit bowl and nodded towards her. They continued gossiping as they worked through the ingredients and you chewed on your fruit in silence. 

There was something you found peaceful about the women in your family, especially in these sorts of events. How they all knew with perfection their role, their gear that worked in synchronicity inside the machine. It was always so beautiful to watch them cook together, even as a child you were astonished at how they moved with ease around each other, knowing their needs without having to voice them. It was like watching a ballet company that had been training on perfecting the same choreography all their lives. They were the main reason you had gone into cooking before anything else was even considered an option. They made you see it as a dance, elegant and exact.

A sudden slap in the back of the head brought you back from your thoughts. 

“Ay! Pendejo!” You shouted at your brother, rubbing your head and glaring in his direction.

“Mom’s talking to you!”

“And that’s why you hit me, you fuckin’ idiot!?”

A chorus of warning ‘Hey's was thrown to both of you, a reminder to behave on the important day.

“I was asking you if you invited your friends from work.” Your mother asked again.

“Mhm, they’ll be here around noon.”

She nodded slowly then looked back up at you with a subtle smile. “And did you invite that Carmy boy?”

“Ooh, who’s that?” Tere pitched in, now drawing the women’s attention towards your topic of conversation.

You bit back into the pear, ignoring the question as your mother took over for you.

“Oh, a boy that works with her, has the loveliest of blue eyes.” She said, widening her eyes and causing a wave of chuckling from her sisters. “What is he, russian?” She asked you.

“Italian.” You mumbled, through your chewing.

“Italian, that’s right!” Then she gasped as an idea came to mind. “You should introduce him to your cousin Sarita, y’know how lonely she’s been since her divorce…” Her voice shrinked into a whisper, as if she were telling a long kept secret.

You stopped mid bite at her words, sweeping through the sets of eyes that now waited expectantly for your answer. Joshua stood across the counter with a mocking smile and an apple in hand, while his other arm circled Angie’s shoulders.

“That’s a great idea ma, you should totally introduce ‘em to Sarita.” He said, then bit into his apple to hide the stupid grin invading his face.

You wanted nothing more than to lodge the fruit so far down his throat that he’d live with two Adam’s apples for the rest of his days, but you knew you’d have to answer for your crime against your mother’s darling boy. Instead you swallowed the last bite and left the space with the excuse of getting ready for the evening.

‘My mother wants to set you up with my cousin.

How good are you with kids?’

Read the text you sent Carmy while getting ready to take a shower. Your phone pinged less than a minute later and the little blue heart you had added next to his name made your stomach flutter.

‘Once sedated a party full of ‘em.

But other than that, pretty decent’

A loud laugh vibrated through your chest at his answer and you saved it in your mental folder under ‘stuff to ask him about’, next to the swirling designs on his torso and on how he had ended up stuck with The Beef, of all places.

Chapter 6.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

[tacticaldiary]

Hey there! Love your stuff! I was just reading some of your work for our favorite Scotsman and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to feed me more.

Picture this, Soap and Reader have been a thing since like forever. On the “Alone” mission or something, reader goes on a rampage to find her sweet sweet Johnny.

A Still Beating Heart

Pairing: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"Like hell I was leaving you." Clicking her tongue, she shifts her focus on his wound that's bleeding through the hasty patchwork. "Not letting you bleed out now."

"You gonna kiss it better, hen?" A poor attempt at a joke.

"I'll kiss you all you want once we're safe."

A/N: This turned out way longer than I expected-

Masterlist

Rain obscures her vision as she runs, the image of Johnny hitting the ground after being shot playing over and over again in a dreadful loop.

He got away. He's gotten away. He's alright.

She chants it in her head over and over whilst navigating the winding streets of Las Almas.

"Watch it." Ghost barks yanking her to the side roughly when she almost crashes head-first into a crumbling brick wall. "Get your head on straight, Sergeant." Muted anger coats his words as he spits them out.

She grits her teeth in response, taking a second to survey her surroundings. They've stopped in an alleyway a good chunk of the way into the town. There's no doubt that Graves would be on their heels, they couldn't afford to stop for long.

Leaving two deadly soldiers who are witnesses wouldn't be a risk he'd take.

Three. She reminds herself with a fierce determination. Three soldiers.

How dare he. How fucking dare Graves turn around and betray them like he hadn't been their brother in arms for the last few weeks. The fact that he'd turned on them without remorse, shot her boyfriend without batting an eye was unforgivable.

Rage, hot and fierce scalds the blood running through her veins. Her mind is a storm of conflict, a desperate chant of Johnny's name on repeat. Between the anger, there's the blinding worry that accompanies it. It had all happened so fast she didn't get a chance to see where exactly he got shot, just that he'd fallen with a pained grunt, then Ghost was shouting at him to go.

Part of her rages Ghost him as well, for the way he'd roughly stopped her from lunging into the open to get to Johnny. It's not justified. Ghost had done his job as Lieutenant, had gotten them both and Johnny out of there in time.

Just barely in time.

While Ghost ventures farther into the alley, she clicks on her radio, switching through different channels. "Transmitting in the blind, does anyone copy?" She says into the device, frustrated when there's no answer, she flicks through the channels again and-

A raspy cough, a weak, familiar Scottish drawl.

She switches to it immediately, bringing the radio up to her mouth. "Johnny? I read you." The relief is palpable in her voice, a creature that settles with its claws still out. "What's your location?" She holds her tongue and her questions upon hearing heavy, raspy breaths from the other side. "Johnny?"

"Aye. 'S good to hear your voice." He manages. "I'm in...at the corner of a street. Edge of the town somewhere." There's a grunt from the other end, the rustling of gear and clothing as he sits up. "Is Ghost there?"

"Affirm." Her eyes snap to the man as he talks through his own radio. "There's a Church north side of the city. We'll recon there." His scouting must have resulted in something, then. It's a good plan, she'll admit. A structure with a solid vantage point gated off and less likely to be surrounded with its many exit points. Smart.

"Copy." Johnny's short response makes her frown.

"Can you make it?" She presses him. The short beat of silence has her heart sinking.

"'Course I can." He laughs but it's hollow. "Don't worry your pretty head about it. You'll see me in no time."

"Get moving, Soap." Ghost shuts down the conversation tightly, peering into one of the cracked open doors that lead into what looks like a clothing store. "Stay on my six," He tells her. "It's a straight path there, but we don't have a count on-"

"I'm going fetch him." Ghost exhales slowly, not turning around. "You and I both know he's lost an unknown amount of blood. I'm not risking losing him to that motherfucker." She snarls.

"You don't have his location."

"I'll scour the outskirts until I find him. You provide overwatch from the church. I will find him."

The fire in her eyes, the tight-strung posture...Ghost has little doubt that she would. They meet eyes, but she doesn't back down for a second, daring him to order her otherwise.

Finally after what seems like ages, he jerks his head behind him in silent, begrudging approval. "Thirty minutes, Sergeant."

"I'll only need ten."

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tucked behind the counter of a grocery store, Soap clenches his jaw as footsteps pass through the window above him. This entire situation was a shit show.

The sting of betrayal was almost as painful as the insistent throbbing on his shoulder. He's already sure the bullet is lodged in there from the quick once-over he gave himself. Admittedly, it had taken him longer than he expected to get his bearings. Judging by the puddle of blood he woke up in, he'd already lost a good amount of blood before he'd roughly packed the still gushing wound.

Guerrilla warfare was bloody and made something vile crawl through Soap's veins. Every time he ties together rope and metal to pry open a door, or fashions a bomb out of a mousetrap, he can't help but think of the bodies he'd encountered on his path to the church. Children, women, men...nobody was spared by those fuckers.

It was vile, a kind of justice he didn't enlist to take part in. The very thing he's sworn to protect people against...

Soap is snapped out of his thoughts by Ghost's voice. They'd had some back and forth whilst they were moving, and Soap knows it's partly to keep him alert and present. Underneath Ghost's rough words, there was always a twinge of worry lacing his tone only someone familiar with the exact lilt of his mannerisms would pick up.

Once the footsteps recede, Soap groans quietly, pushing himself up to his feet with help from the wall. His legs protest, his arms ache and a deep exhaustion infects his mind, begs him to sit down for a few minutes and let go.

In an attempt to shake off the thoughts, he takes a deep breath and reaches for his radio to hear the one voice that always makes him snap to attention.

Soap's been thanking whoever was up there that she'd ended up safe with Ghost. It didn't ease his worry but it soothed it into something more bearable. She wasn't incapable by any means, but even the strongest person benefitted by someone equally capable by their side.

God, he hopes he reaches the church before he collapses.

Swaying suddenly, Soap curses under his breath and reaches to grab the counter to steady himself. In his haste, his arm crashes against a vase, sending it crashing to the ground.

The noise is accompanied by the yells of Shadows outside the store. Soap barely has time to curse himself out and make a lunge for the stairs before the soldier from before peers into the store, rifle at the ready.

Gunfire rains down on him, grazing his arm when he presses himself behind a brick pillar for cover.

Fuck. Fuck.

Sweat beads down his back as he struggles to keep himself upright, shaky fingers patting down his pocket for the knife he'd yanked out of a soldier's head an hour ago...has it been an hour? He doesn't know anymore.

Cautious steps approach him, his heart pounding against his chest as adrenaline pushes itself through his system.

It was strike now or get struck down. The element of surprise was the only advantage he had. His shoulder aches like a bitch but he sucks it up and tightens his grip around his knife.

It all happens at the same time.

Soap lunges out of his hiding spot, weapon raised as much as the fuzz around his vision will let him.

And he watches as someone else tackles the Shadow to the ground.

Soap stops in his tracks, tensing at the vicious way she slits the man's throat. Familiar hair, a body he's mapped out with his hands and mouth over and over again.

Her gaze snaps up to meet his, a shock down his spine.

"For someone so loud, you're good at staying hidden." She huffs, wiping the blood off of her cheek.

No. No, she couldn't be here. She was supposed to be with Ghost, not roaming the streets crawling with Shadows for...

For him.

The thought warms him from the inside out despite the situation. Who the hell is he kidding? He would have done the exact same thing for her.

The moment her hands touch his arms, all the energy seems to snap out of him. Johnny's knees give out, her hands barely catching him to lower him gently to the ground.

"Shit, Johnny?" Panic laces her voice. A hand slick with blood cups his cheek, slaps it gently to prompt his eyes to flutter open. "You gotta stay awake, okay baby? Come on." She doesn't relent until he listens, a hazy gaze focused on her.

"Ya shouldn't be here." He rasps out.

"Like hell I was leaving you." Clicking her tongue, she shifts her focus on his wound, bleeding through the hasty patchwork. "Not letting you bleed out now."

"You gonna kiss it better, hen?" A poor attempt at a joke.

"I'll kiss you all you want once we're safe." Hooking his uninjured arm over her shoulder, she helps her stand. Her heart clenches at the pained groan he tries to muffle. It's good that she had the sense to come back for him.

She doesn't want to think what might have happened if she'd been a second too late.

"That a promise?"

"A threat." She corrects as they stumble towards the backdoor. The weak snort she gets in response is more than enough to loosen the knot in her chest an inch.

Soap's laugh dies in his throat when they hit the streets.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He mumbles, looking around at the roads bathed in crimson.

Bodies and bodies of Shadows lay scattered around almost every alleyway they hobble through. Peeks through to the main roads show the same results. Black masked figures slumped over, limbs twisted and odd angles, necks slit open brutally.

"Had some fun getting to me, did ya?"

There's no response from her but a shrug.

There's no sorrow or remorse for what she had to do to get to him. A mantra of his name playing through her head, the desperation of getting to him and the rage of the situation mixed together had made each swipe of her knife, each broken bone easy.

She's painted the town red.

Johnny. She needed to get to Johnny and whoever was standing in her way had met their demise by viscous hands and an unforgiving sentence.

"I'm surprised you made it that far on your own." Keeping him talking was important. "Graves will face hell for what he's done." They duck into a street, the church in plain view.

"It's a bleedin' a war crime." Soap says. "Makes me want to commit a few of my own." His voice dips down to a growl. She shares the same sentiment.

"Amen." She mumbles back, peering out into the courtyard in front of them. A couple of figures patrol the area, breaking off of each other to peer behind parked vehicles and doors to different shops.

"Four hostiles in our path." A grimace. She gently lowers him down against the stone wall. "Stay here while I clear our path... not that you can go anywhere, actually."

Soap seems displeased about her going off on her own, but he knows that he's more of a liability than an advantage in a situation where stealth is valued. "Take 'em quietly."

"Copy." Her bloody knife spins in her hand. "Be right back, baby." Pressing a kiss to his temple, she slips out of the alley.

Johnny breathes out a shaky sigh, and lets his head hit the stone behind him. Itchy and restless from being able to do nothing, he loathes feeling so...useless. He's confident in her, how could anyone not be? But that doesn't quell the need to shield her from everything he can spare her from.

She was fiery and bright, everything he'd always wanted. She came into his life as a force to be reckoned with, butting heads with him and throwing insults back at his face as easily as he uttered them to her.

Love had hit him hard.

Stuck in his head, his eyes flutter shut against his wishes as he thinks. Just for moment, he tells himself. Just until she gets back.

Just a second of rest wouldn't hurt, right?

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he knows that letting himself fall unconscious was the worst possible case in this scenario, but he couldn't have stopped himself if he tried. The blood loss makes him tired and lethargic and before long he's fallen into the inky depth of sleep.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It had all gone to shit.

Three of the four guards she'd taken down quickly. It had been almost easy how fast and quiet they went down, gurgling on their own blood as her knife slid across the chinks in their armour, the skin of their necks.

The third guard had been a little too trigger-happy, though. A twitch of his finger while he was choking had set his gun going off with a bang, a bullet embedded into one of the cars nearby.

It had been enough to alert every goddamn person in the vicinity.

She's glad she left Johnny behind, at least his position wasn't compromised.

Just as the street started filling up, her radio had crackled to life, Ghost barking that the church had been compromised and overrun, ordering them to meet him at the end of the street to secure a vehicle.

She was already there, all she had to do was keep her position and stop the Shadows from flanking her until Ghost got there.

"Copy." She mutters into the radio, setting up the rifle she'd swiped from one of the corpses over the hood of the cars she's ducked behind. "Eyes on a possible vehicle." She relays over comms upon setting sight on a blue truck close to her, relatively unscratched. Firing off round after round, the soldiers drop like flies. The armoured ones are a little tougher to deal with, and need a more precise aim but she manages somehow.

She curses under her breath as more of the pour from the stores and alleys into the streets.

Just a little longer. Ghost was almost here, then they could secure a vehicle, grab Johnny and get the fuck out of here.

Wrecking carnage in his path, Ghost emerges from behind a barrier after what seems like an hour, and together the both of them climb into the truck she informed him of. "Stop by the far alley and I'll haul Soap inside so we can get the hell out of here." She grunts, firing off shots from the back of the truck as Ghost starts the ignition.

She gets an affirmative and they're on their way, ducking at the sound of gunfire and barked orders following them.

She jumps out of the truck and runs into the alley where she left him. "Time to go Johnny, come-..." She halts in her tracks, into a dead stop at the scene in front of her.

Blood splatters the wall behind his shoulder, the wound aggravated and bleeding through the improvised bandaging in rivers of red down his arm. He's...he's pale, shallow gasps of breaths that are barely there making his chest move in movements too small to be healthy.

Ghost yells at her to make it quick, and it's her Lieutenant's voice that brings her crashing back to reality. Swallowing back her panic, she hoists Johnny up and drags him into the back of the truck, yelling at Ghost to move as she lays him down as still as possible.

Bullets ping off of the metal, but all she can focus on is pressing her hands to Soap's wound. She leans in close to feel him puffing out short gasps of air.

Still breathing, she tells herself as Ghost makes a sharp turn. He's alive, he's breathing, he's here, he's not dead. Alive, alive, still alive.

With hands shaky, she pulls out a proper roll of gauze from her vest, the emergency first aid pouch she carries is worth its weight in gold.

"Don't you fucking die on me, baby." She whispers, voice cracking. "It's not allowed." She wipes the worst of the wound with disinfectant before packing the hole with fresh gauze.

There was so much blood pooling beneath him in that alley...and how much had he lost before that?

He needed a medic, and fast. She wouldn't lose him. Not him.

Not her Johnny.

Not the person that could coax a smile out of her even if she was in the foulest of moods. Not Johnny, who always seemed to know what she needed, what made her feel better. Not the love of her life who she'd seen a life out of the military with.

Please, not him.

Time flies by and soon, Ghost pulls over in front of a safehouse. When he exits the driver's seat and comes round the back to asses the situation, his heart sinks as he finds her curled up over Soap, lips pressed to his forehead as she whispers to him, her hand carding through his dirty hair as if he might wake up to feel it.

"Let's get him inside." He says, tone oddly sombre. If he notices how wet her eyes are, he doesn't comment on it, merely helps her carry him in silence.                                   · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Rudy had been a godsend. His safe house had been packed with supplies much more useful to Soap. He'd taken one look at Soap, at her wrecked and frantic state, and taken over. Ordering her and Ghost to start studying the maps to the facility they planned to break into, he started his own inspection of Soap.

She can't focus.

The maps mean nothing to her. The lines, the marks, the circles. It was meaningless gibberish to her when her boyfriend was-

"He'll pull through." She blinks back into the present at Ghost's gruff voice, head snapping up to meet his gaze.

"He better." A shaky inhale.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When Rudy comes back to inform them that Soap is stable, her legs nearly buckle under her with a wave of relief. She pushes past him immediately to seek her boyfriend out, and finds him laying on one of the old cots pushed to the corner.

She takes a seat on the floor next to him, resting her head against the mattress. "You're an asshole." She mumbles after a second. "Scared the shit out of me, you know that?"

He probably can't hear her, but it doesn't stop her frayed nerves from talking. Her hand finds his and she squeezes it gently trying to bring some of her warmth into his cold skin. Sighing, she presses his hand to her forehead, shifting her grip so her fingers rested on his pulse.

Each steady beat loosens the knot in her chest, reassures her that he is alive.

Would he wake up soon? Would he wake up at all? The latter thought is quickly chased away, because there was no choice. Johnny had to wake up, he had to.

A world without him simply wasn't one worth having.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her back aches.

Forehead pressed into the mattress right by his waist, it's the first thing she registers as she's roused from where she'd dozed off. Blinking sluggishly, she groans as she feels a hand carding through her hair.

Just the right pressure, the feeling so familiar and warm and soothing-

Her eyes widen and she snaps up straight to meet a pair of tired but amused blue eyes studying her. Johnny's sitting up right in front of her, looking down at her in that soft way he always did.

"Rise and shine." He rasps out, and she almost sobs at the sound. Pushing herself to her feet, she wraps her arms around him the best she can without injuring him. "Easy." He winces at being jostled but holds her just as tight.

"Thought you were gone." She chokes out, trembling. "I thought-"

"I'm right here, bonnie." He whispers into her hair. "Right with ya. Gonna take more than that to do me in, right?"

She laughs wetly into his shoulder, as he runs a hand up and down her back as if she was the one who needed comforting.

Pulling herself together was a more difficult task than clearing the streets of Las Almas. Every time she thinks she's calmed down, she remembers how still and cold Johnny had been and she spirals all over again.

He clicks his tongue and manoeuvres them gently so he's laying down with her on his chest, careful to avoid his good arm. Her head is pressed against the centre of his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat a balm against the rising and falling cycle of panic and grief she's stuck in.

Alive, alive, alive. Still alive.

Once her breathing evens out into something relatively stable, she tries to speak again. "Don't scare me like that again."

He hums. "I'll do better next time." A tired smile grows on his face as she pinches his side.

Alive.

He was still alive.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(3/09/2023)

[sgiandubh]

Out of the OL bubble

Sidenote: this post owes everything to the incredible sleuthing skills of an already longtime trusted friend, who wishes to remain discreet. All credit goes entirely to her - this is such an idiotic topic, yet the Ur Troll insists.

I answered one of you in the comment threads yesterday, that once you get the hell out of the OL bubble, things begin to make sense. Why? Well, because of distance and context, I suppose. And also because this always was the dirty little secret of our Dedicated Manipulative Trolls: to make you believe in a terribly poor narrative, fit for a linear world. A world without compromise, drama, secrets and lies. Collective lack of time, perspective and/or Internet research skills did the rest and gave birth to this monster: the OL Fandom.

We are now told and are supposed to believe that because Scottish Xena apparently chose on purpose (with this and only this, I could agree, but for opposite reasons) to show us she trains in a Cumbernauld gym, that means... well, you know the rest and it involves The Magic Golden Dirk. That troll was never exactly subtle, was she, bless her heart?

That mother and entrepreneur has a life of her own and an entourage of her own and business collaborations of her own and her own agenda. Some of it is shown on her Instagram account, most of it can be speculated. Connecting dots just for the sake of it is neither productive, nor remotely interesting.

Let's see, for example, how she reacts to a very insistent fellow German athlete, whom she is going to meet at the Hyrox Cologne event (13-14th of April, during the Landcon week-end):

😬😱

What is Flamingos Club? Nope, not an ikebana society, no:

Tee-hee.

They were there before, in good company, last year, when they actually first met (rings a bell?):

(April 2023, ok? I am still waiting for my own DeLorean)

Who is this guy?

Fellow athlete, HYROX Ambassador (something I bet the farm she wants to achieve) and a contestant in this year's German reality show First Dates Hotel, on VOX (https://www.vox.de/cms/sendungen/first-dates-hotel.html):

The concept is simple: a renowned German chef, Roland Trettl (no idea!) now takes his blind date cooking show to the next level, with singles from all over the country parked into a Spanish dream holiday resort (Mallorca), shake, stir and see whatever happens. The classical Endemol recipe, now produced by Twenty Twenty. It also has an UK version, running on Channel 4 (coincidence? I doubt that very much, thank you!).

On set, Max's 'love interest' is a certain Linda. He recently wrote her ' a sweet love letter', taking the good advice of his namesake cast friend Max-the-Bartender:

(I swear to God, I feel like I am prostituting my 🧠, right now).

There is obviously nothing to see, here (or is it, such as two wannabes desperately wanting limelight?). She leads the typical no strings attached life of a single mom and he is still looking for a real job:

Since VOX does not give his full name, neither will I. It took five minutes to find him, with a bit of luck.

Why on Earth would one connect that woman to S, rather than to this nice, ambitious Bavarian?

I know why. It's almost too damn easy.

Two words: Channel 4. Truman Show. Ginger and Fred (oops, these are Our Couple).

Is it anything we haven't seen before?

Nope. We've seen way worse. But gone are the Days of Flukenzie Floozy.

[Edited] - there is no need to further expose our people.

[kandisheek]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week 2024

Better Together Monday: July 22nd

Prompt: Tell us all about those fanworks where Tony and Steve are better teammates, are more competent, complete missions more efficiently and are just overall better for working and being together!

We all know that Steve and Tony are better together than apart, and this is the perfect time to celebrate it! Here are some of my favorite fics where teamwork makes the dream work:

-- Kludged Together by Veldeia

When he cut his morning jog short to join Tony Stark on a reconnaissance mission off the East Coast, Steve sure wasn’t expecting to end up stuck on a life raft in the middle of the ocean, his hand knuckle-deep in Stark's chest.

-- Danger Mouse by isozyme

First step: get both Tony and the pieces of Tony’s suit into some kind of shelter. It’s not raining now, but it’s only a matter of time. The passenger bay of the jet is sitting at a thirty degree angle and pretty banged up, but the doors are accessible and, hey, it’s got a roof. Step two after shelter: make a fire. That’s wilderness 101. Steve pats around his belt pouches for his matches. He comes up with a pack of tissues (wet), a couple of business cards (wet), his guilty pack of cigarettes (also wet), and finally a book of matches. It’s wet.

-- If Through a Door by jibrailis

Tony is accused of murder on an alien planet; Steve marries him to bring him home.

MORE RECS BELOW THE CUT:

-- Symmetry Breaking by Annie D (scaramouche)

After the Battle of New York, Steve rode off on his motorbike. That's how it went the first time. This time he rides back, all the way to Stark Tower, where he asks Tony for help.

-- Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happy Hour by BladeoftheNebula

“What is your problem?” Steve finally asked, annoyed at the way Stark was acting like there was a storm cloud over his head. Stark reeled back. “My problem? My fucking problem? You walk around this place with a stick jammed so far up your ass I’m surprised you can even bend over to suture!” Steve’s jaw dropped. “At least my head isn’t so big it barely fits through the OR doors.” Dr Steve Rogers is finally assigned to work at the MASH 107 army hospital in Korea, just like he’s been wanting since he was drafted. Too bad the Chief Surgeon is such an ass.

-- Senseless by Scavenge4Dreams

Blinded, deafened, exhausted, injured and afraid, Tony raised himself up into a defensive position, the knife coming up just like Nat had taught him.  “That had better fucking be you, Steve Rogers- it had better be you. Fucking disarm me. If you let me kill you, I swear I will be very, very pissed.” Tony snarled, sure it was Steve approaching. Had to be. Had. To. Be.  What if it wasn’t?

-- Trust Fall by Sineala

Tony needs someone who cares about him, bandages, a jacket, ibuprofen, dinner, a lasting romantic relationship, a nice time in bed, and assistance committing federal crimes. He gets them. In that order.

-- Love among the Hydrothermal Vents by DevilDoll

In which Namor has a thing for Steve, an octopus has a thing for Tony, and Steve and Tony eventually have a thing for each other.

And two of my own fics:

-- Flipping Through Channels

When Loki hits Tony and Steve with an illusion spell during their fight, Tony is prepared for torture, nightmares, the whole shebang. What he's not prepared for is being trapped in a kitschy eighties rom-com with him and Steve as the protagonist and love interest. And why the hell does Loki want them to kiss so badly?

-- Some More Equal Than Others

Steve split from SHIELD years ago, but when Fury approaches him with a rescue mission that goes beyond anything they've ever done before, Steve knows that he can't turn a blind eye to it. Those animals need his help, and if he has to go undercover to save them, then he'll do it gladly. He never expects to find what he does, a tiger hybrid who seems to understand him and yet pretend to be an animal. Steve knows that even more than any of the other animals in this illegal zoo, this man was never meant to belong in a cage. No matter what, Steve won't rest until the man is free.

[lilac-hecox]

Destiny - Ian/Anthony - ianthony

(My contribution to the first day of Ianthony Week at @mywaybacktoyou) about 1,000 words written in like half an hour but it's been on my mind.

--

It was always going to end this way. Even when Ian was twelve and met Anthony in sixth grade, even then, it was always going to end like this. It was a hello that was always destined to have a goodbye. Maybe it would have come even sooner if not for Smosh and the life Ian and Anthony built together, a life that required them to be friends, to be close, the same life that extended their friendship was ultimately what ended it.

You can’t fight destiny or fate and Ian barely believes in those types of things, but Anthony does, and Ian believes enough to know that there were too many steps that were taken in their journey to follow the steps backwards at this point. There is no bread crumb trail, no markings to use to find their way, blind, groping, back to where they began.

Because that life is gone. Those versions of them.

They don’t live in their house in Sacramento. They don’t spend the night at each other’s houses. Ian still remembers the day Anthony grabbed his shoulders in excitement and squeezed hard, and his eyes were glimmering with something, something real and alive, and Anthony told him.

“Ian, this could really be something. We could do this.”

And they did. But at what cost?

Their friendship isn’t just for them. The most devastating part is that the ending will not be for just them either. It won’t be private. It can’t be. Ian and Anthony have made their content and success off the sacrifice of their relationship in privacy and meaning, and so, what does it even mean now to give up the last remnants of what is there? To give the carcass of their friendship to the alter of the viewers and let them dissect the corpse of what was there. What does it matter?

“We’ll still see each other,” Anthony says, his eyes so dull, so dark, so far away from the nineteen-year-old that saw all the possibilities laid out before them.

Ian doesn’t recognize Anthony. He doesn’t recognize himself.

“Do you think so?” Ian asks, because as it is, they don’t even hang out now. A few weeks ago, some last-ditch effort to reclaim what they had, they sat in Anthony’s apartment, and they played video games, and the motions were there, but everything else was missing.

“I’d like to,” Anthony says, his voice small and unsure and full of so much hurt that Ian wants to cover his ears, and he wants to turn away, wants to be blind to this, wants to be anywhere but here and now and having this conversation.

Then, they are looking at each other from across the expanse of Anthony’s dining room table.

Ian wishes he were twelve again. He wishes the most pressing matter would be whose house they are going to spend the night at this weekend. He wishes he wasn’t saying goodbye to the only person he felt has understood him since he was a child, the other half of Smosh, the other half of himself.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Anthony says, his eyes so tired when he looks at Ian.

“About leaving with you?”

“Yeah,” Anthony says, “fuck Defy, dude. We can do this on our own.”

“That means walking away from Smosh and what we made. And then what happens to the other cast members? To the team depending on us?”

Anthony’s jaw is set tight.

“What we made has been gone. Smosh is dead. I don’t know what the fuck you see when you look at ‘our’ channel, but it’s not Smosh and it isn’t ours. Everything else is Defy’s problem. They’re the ones that pushed for our videos to change, they’re the ones that brought on new cast members and threw them in without letting us warm them up to the viewers. They fucked up and they can deal with it. You and I can start over again.”

There’s a pleading to Anthony’s voice, a desperation that slices Ian in two. Even as Anthony speaks, Ian knows he isn’t brave enough to go. He can’t follow. He can’t abandon Smosh.

In the quiet, Anthony knows the answer, because Anthony still knows him like the back of his hand despite the distance between them.

“You’ve always been a coward,” Anthony mumbles.

The words hurt, but maybe they hurt more because they feel true.

“I can’t leave Smosh behind.”

“But you can leave me behind,” Anthony supplies.

“You’re the one walking away!” Ian blurts out, feeling a heat in his chest, his heart beating too fast.

“Not from you.”

“You’re walking away from everything, Anthony.”

Anthony runs a hand through his hair and sighs and then he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes.

“I have to, Ian. I can’t be a puppet for Defy anymore. They ruined Smosh. They ruined us.”

“And I have to stay.”

Then, the matter is settled, as it was always meant to be. Every beginning has to have an ending and life isn’t a movie or a sketch, and Ian can’t will it to go the way he wants it to. He thinks of the nervous twelve-year-old he was so many years ago and how good it felt to have a best friend, how good it felt to be living his dream life with his best friend, and Ian can’t imagine that twelve-year-old knowing that someday, it would all end up like this.

This is their ending, whether he likes it or not. This is destiny, or fate, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. This is Ian and Anthony living out the consequences of years’ worth of actions. This is selling to Defy. This is Anthony getting engaged. This is an awkward dinner with drinks in New York where Ian felt like he was drowning and couldn’t voice a word to Anthony.

This is them setting up a filming date to announce Anthony’s departure.

This is Ian shrugging on his coat and Anthony lingering near his own front door and it feels like there are a million things to say to one another but at the same time the silence is thick, choking, and Ian wants to run. He wants to run back to Sacramento, to their old house, their parent’s places, their teenage bedrooms, to the science class in a Del Campo middle school, and he wants to tell those twelve-year-old boys not to sell to Defy, and to talk to each other more, and not to be so damn afraid of what the world thinks their relationship is supposed to be.

But he can’t.

What he can do is get in his car. And what Ian can do is look up at the lighted window of Anthony’s apartment from where he parked in the street, and what he can do is raise his hand in a wave at the figure silhouetted in the light from that apartment.

What he can do is let Anthony go.

He doesn’t really have a choice.

You can’t fight destiny.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part seventy-nine: "The Hell Day"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You stay home from work because you're having a terrible day on your period.

Or

Matt stops by for a surprise visit and offers you comfort in more ways than one.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: This is a little hurt/comfort fic while Reader is on her worst day of her period. And there's some Sweet Matty comforting Reader and some moving in discussions! Our next installment is titled "The Revisitation of Moving In" that I'll hopefully be sharing later this week! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here.

Tag List: @stilldreaming666 @mattkinsella @ninacoette @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky (I apologize if I missed someone or if any of these tags didn't work! Some of you might have search settings turned off on your account so I can't actually tag you!)

Curled up on your couch absently watching the food channel, your arms were wrapped around your abdomen as you groaned in misery. Your whole body ached, especially your lower back, and you'd been feeling nauseous since early this morning when you'd woken up. You'd had a headache for the past five hours that just wouldn't go away no matter how much water you drank or ibuprofen you took. 

You were on day two of your period–also known as Hell Day. Since it was Friday and you'd felt like death, having woken up long before your alarm had gone off and been unable to fall back asleep because your cramps were just that painful, you'd called off work. Last night had been one of those rare nights that Matt hadn't stopped by as Daredevil because he'd stayed home working on a case, so you'd thankfully not had to wake up to him witnessing how miserable you were. 

While you'd avoided Matt over that first period week you'd gotten months ago, right after the two of you had gotten together, you hadn't continued that trend for most of the periods that followed after. Though admittedly you had often managed to find a way to avoid him one way or another on Period Hell Day for months now, so he'd yet to encounter you on the absolute worst day of your period. Which you'd been grateful for, because generally you were more of an emotional mess than usual, and that's exactly how you'd felt today, as if you were one random, small thing away from crying. Again .

A knock at your apartment door drew your eye towards it, a deep frown settling onto your face. There could only be one person who would be here knocking on your door at almost seven on a Friday night. You closed your eyes, rolling over and burying your face in the pillow you'd been lying on. Another groan left you yet again. 

"I don’t feel good tonight, Matt," you grumbled into the pillow. “Leave me to my misery.”

"You and I both know that I'm not going to do that," Matt's distinctive voice came from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you protested, face still buried in the pillow.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m blind,” he quipped back, amusement clear in his tone.

“ Matt ,” you whined.

You heard the clear rumble of his chuckle outside of your door, the sound of it drawing your face from its hiding place. It had been yesterday afternoon since you last saw him for lunch and you certainly had missed him–despite how pathetic it was to admit because it had barely been over twenty-four hours.

"I brought mint ice cream?" Matt called hopefully through the door. “And it’s uh, probably going to melt on me if you leave me out here.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” you called back.

You pushed yourself upright on the couch with a grimace, your cramps somehow feeling worse now that you weren’t curled in the fetal position. 

“Because I sort of thought my girlfriend would be happy for some company and comfort tonight?” he responded. "Didn't expect that I'd need to bribe her to answer the door."

Eyes narrowing, you rose to your feet, shuffling your way to your apartment door. Your right hand was pressed to your bloated abdomen like it was going to keep your insides from somehow falling out of you while you walked. Quickly unlocking your door with your left hand, you swung it open to reveal Matt’s handsome and smiling face. He held up the container of mint ice cream he had in fact brought over in one of his hands. 

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked him suspiciously, eyes still narrowed as you ignored the ice cream. “Why would you think I want company and comfort tonight?”

Matt’s smile immediately fell, his dark brows drawing together, a crease forming between them. His head slowly shifted to the side as he pursed his lips. There was a long moment that he stood in your doorway looking confused as he remained silent.

“Because you’re…on your period?” he eventually answered carefully. “And I know you usually don’t feel well?”

“How do you know I’m on my period?” you questioned him.

Matt’s head tilted further to the side, his dark brows almost entirely disappearing behind the red lenses of his glasses now. “This…this feels like a trick question,” he said slowly. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to answer that.”

You shook your head quickly, hugging both arms over your stomach as if that would somehow block Matt’s heightened senses from picking up on anything from your body. “No, ew, definitely don’t answer that ,” you agreed. “I meant I haven’t seen you today, how would you know?”

“I saw you yesterday, sweetheart,” he pointed out. 

“But I hadn’t told you I was on it because I just had–” you stopped, eyes going wide when Matt’s expression turned sheepish. “Oh my God , you could still tell ?” When he opened his mouth you immediately shook your head again, throwing a hand up from your stomach to stop him. “No, please do not actually answer that.”

“It’s not a big deal, sweetheart,” he said gently.

“Says you !” you shot back.

“So you’re just going to leave me to let this mint ice cream melt all over my hands in your hall then?” he asked.

“Obviously not,” you said, stepping aside.

Matt took a slow, careful step into your apartment, almost as if he was wary that you really didn’t want him here. Your shoulders sagged at the sight, shutting the door after him.

“Sorry, I’m a hormonal mess,” you apologized. “I feel horrible and I wasn’t expecting you to stop by tonight and now I’m just overthinking your senses. Again .”

You accepted the ice cream from Matt, turning and bringing it to the kitchen to keep in your freezer for now. Behind you, you heard Matt slipping out of his shoes.

“You know you really don’t need to do that,” he told you. “Overthinking my senses about things.”

“Sort of hard not to do,” you mumbled. “Overthinking is sort of my thing.”

You made your way back towards the living room where Matt was pulling his dark glasses from his face. His eyes were tracking your movement as he leaned over to set the glasses onto your coffee table, the smile growing on his lips as you made your way towards him.

“If you’re ever actually going to move in with me,” he said, “you’re kind of going to have your period around me, sweetheart. And you know it doesn’t bother me. I’ve told you that a hundred times now.”

Sighing dramatically, you once again hugged your arms across your bloated stomach as you came to a stop in front of him. “Try getting my overthinking mind to believe you,” you replied.

He chuckled lightly, his hands reaching out and landing on your shoulders. He gave them an affectionate squeeze that drew a small smile onto your face.

“I have been trying that for awhile now,” he pointed out. “Clearly it’s not an easy feat to accomplish.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “because all I can think about are the gross things you’re picking up on when I’m like this. And I’m…” you trailed off, lips clamping together before you could admit what was on your mind.

Matt’s face shifted to something serious instantly, clearly sensing your hesitation. His eyes were scanning around your face curiously. “You’re what?” he prompted.

Chewing your lip, you gazed down at your coffee table. Could you really verbalize something so gross and ridiculous to Matt? The last thing you felt like doing right now was discussing your period with the man you wanted to still find you attractive when you weren’t bleeding in a few more days.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer as he gripped your shoulders a little tighter, “you can tell me anything. What’s bothering you?”

“It’s just…if I move in with you, you’re right,” you admitted quietly. “I’ll be having my period around you. Like all the time.”

“Yes,” Matt agreed. “I am aware that it's a monthly occurrence. And I don’t have a problem with that.”

“But like…” you continued, your eyes locked on your coffee table because you could not look at him, “that means I’ll, you know, be…disposing of period-related things. At your place. All the time."

Matt let out an amused snort that quickly drew your eyes to his face. He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head quickly.

“Sorry, sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he said immediately. “I’m not–not trying to make light of your feelings, but sweetheart, it’s just blood. I bring enough blood home on a near nightly basis. I don’t care. It doesn't bother me. And for the record, it would be our place."

“But you have the nose of a bloodhound–”

“Better, actually,” he cut in.

“Matt!” you shrieked, to which he only chuckled again. “That’s not helping!”

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, the grin still on his face. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

You shifted awkwardly on your feet before him, other anxious thoughts about living with Matt crossing your mind. As if sensing that, his hands slid down your shoulders, making their way down your arms until they wrapped around your own hands. 

"Hey, let's sit," he suggested gently. 

Matt led you back towards your couch, the pair of you settling down onto the cushions beside each other. He kept his hold on your hands, that serious expression back on his face as he gazed at you. 

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked. "Tell me."

"I just–just worry about all the things you're going to pick up on if I move in with you," you confessed. "Things I'm not aware of because of your heightened senses."

Matt murmured your name, the sound drawing your eyes up to his face. Nervously you chewed your lip, Matt's thumbs rubbing lightly over the backs of your hands. 

"You've spent so much time with me already, sweetheart," he pointed out. "Staying the night at my place or me staying here. And I'm still here not grossed out by you." One corner of his lips curled upwards as he added, "And I lived with Fog during college for years . Share an office with him almost every day of the week now. You're not going to gross me out or whatever you're afraid of."

"Well Foggy isn't hoping you're still attracted to him at the end of the day," you blurted. 

Matt's mouth twisted into a bigger grin in response. "Well that would mean I'd have to be attracted to Fog at the beginning of the day," he teased.

You sighed deeply, not wanting his jokes right now. Quickly picking up on that, Matt sent you an apologetic smile. 

"I'm serious, Matt," you admitted awkwardly. "If we live together, you'll be around me all the time. Every bad day I have and every morning of my gross morning breath. And every period where I'm super gross, like right now. And every time–"

"Hey," Matt cut you off firmly, squeezing your hands. "I want every moment with you, sweetheart. All of it. The good and the bad. I want you with me. And you are not super gross right now," he stated sharply. "You never are. Nothing is going to make me love you or want you any less."

You couldn't help the sting of tears that pricked at your eyes or the way your lips had begun to tremble as Matt's words hit you hard. His brows drew together on his forehead as he noticed your body’s reaction. 

"Sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes softening as they focused near your own. "Why're you crying?"

Tears had already quickly begun falling down your cheeks in hot, wet steaks. You sniffled loudly, fighting to keep your voice as even as you could when you spoke. 

"Because I'm hormonal as fuck, Matt," you sobbed. "And you're so fucking charming and sweet. And I love you." You slipped a hand out of his hold as you gestured behind you towards your kitchen. "And you brought me my favorite ice cream on my worst damn day of the month!"

His brows knitted further together, the crease between them deepening on his face. The corner of his mouth twitched downwards. "Those are all–all good things though," he pointed out carefully. 

"I know!" you agreed, your voice cracking. 

His head tilted to the side as he studied you for a moment. "So you're…happy?" he clarified.

"Yes!" you exclaimed. "I'm incredibly hormonal and you're being really great and it's making me cry! But I also cried watching House Hunters earlier, too." 

He laughed lightly, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. One of his large hands began soothingly running up and down your back as you buried your face into his dress shirt. You quickly soaked the material with your tears as your arms wrapped around him in return, balling the material in your fists. That familiar scent of him surrounded you and you buried your nose further into his shirt. A moment later you felt him pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I love you, Matty," you said into his chest. 

"I love you, too, sweetheart,” he murmured. “How about I get changed and I come cuddle you on the couch?" he offered. "I can give you a back massage if you lay on me. I can hear how sore your back is."

"You've had a long week yourself," you replied, sniffling again. "Both in and out of the office. I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"Well you're not," he pointed out. "I'm offering. Here, let me up."

Reluctantly you released your hold of him, Matt rising up from the couch. He shot you a smile, murmuring he'd be right back back before you watched him disappear down your hall to your bedroom. 

With a sigh you settled back onto your couch, your eyes focusing back on the food channel. It was a few minutes before Matt returned no longer in his work attire. Instead he padded down your hallway barefoot in a pair of gray sweatpants with a tee-shirt in one hand. 

"Shirt or no shirt?" he asked, stopping before you on the other side of the coffee table. 

Your lips parted in surprise as your eyes raked over his bare torso, every defined inch of him on clear display in your living room. Matt grinned devilishly at you, tossing his shirt onto the coffee table before he made his way back to you. 

"That answered my question," he said, amused.

He sat down on the couch, drawing his feet up as he maneuvered behind you. And then he opened his arms to you, waving you over with a smile. 

"Come here, sweetie," he whispered. "Let me help you feel better."

You gradually climbed up on top of him, nestling your head just below his chin as your legs rested between his on your couch. While your right hand slid up to grasp his shoulder, your left hand landed along his chest beside your face, fingers absently running along his bare, warm skin that felt amazing against your bloated abdomen. Matt’s own hands settled onto your lower back, his palms beginning to press in the exact right spot against your aching muscles. It was only a matter of seconds before your eyes were closing and you were sighing in relief and contentment. 

“You’re really, really good at that,” you whispered, relaxing into him beneath you.

“Sort of easy when I can hear your body that well,” he replied gently.

“And that made it weird,” you pointed out.

Beneath you, Matt let out a rumbling laugh that had you bouncing along him with the movement, which in turn had you giggling. Burying your face into his chest as you laughed, you felt his hands pause their movement to hold you tight to him, his nose nuzzling into your hair as his warm chuckle filled your ears. When both your laughter subsided, Matt placed a kiss into your hair before his hands resumed their movement on your back. You gradually eased back into him beneath you, your eyelids dropping. 

“You know,” Matt began, his tone catching your attention instantly, “I hear orgasms help relieve cramps.”

Your eyes instantly grew wide, your jaw dropping in response to what he’d just suggested. There was a rumble of laughter beneath you again as you raised your head from his chest, staring down at him in shock.

“Matthew!” you shrieked.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile growing wider. “Oh that one warranted my full name, did it?” he teased.

Heat crept its way up your cheeks as you buried your face back into his chest. “Oh my God ,” you groaned, voice muffled.

“I’m just letting you know that I am more than happy to help,” he told you, amusement in his voice. “Just so you know for the future.”

“I am officially embarrassed and uncomfortable,” you mumbled, still hiding your heated face against him.

“I strongly believe that one day you’ll take me up on that,” he mused, his hands still working the muscles of your aching lower back. 

“Doubt it,” you disagreed.

He chuckled yet again, his hands managing to relax you back down from the topic of conversation. Slowly you shifted until your cheek was once again resting along his chest.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out. “Guess we’ll see who’s right eventually.”

[myokk]

Okay, question for you- is Eloise’s hair tied at the end and curly, or in a ponytail and curly, or is there no tie and I’m just blind?

I was going to answer this quickly but I am EXTRA & had to do a write-up of her hair (sorry🙏)

First, she normally does wear her hair in a braid!💓 I do NOT know how to draw braids nor do I want to learn, so I do my weird way that looks terrible and I really should spend like 30 min researching😔🙏

When I remember, I like to add the bow but I forget a lot🥲

Her hair is CRAZY and thick, and has been the bane of her existence her whole life. I’m just channeling her inner Black (she is like a great-aunt or something of Sirius and Bellatrix) so OBVIOUSLY i had to give her amazing hair.

Since she is a Proper Young Victorian Lady™️ who spent the last 5 years at a muggle finishing school, she NEVER wears her hair down, and felt scandalized the first weeks at Hogwarts, seeing girls her age wearing TROUSERS😨 and having their hair DOWN😳 and although she’s used to it now, she still feels uncomfortable thinking of herself doing it.

Sebastian daydreams about it all the time though😇🙏

Some quick doodles I sketched up for this así.

1) her crazy hair when it’s down💓🫶

2) Imelda LOVES doing Eloise’s hair. She’s never really had girl friends before, and the ritual of gossiping/doing hair/hanging out reminds Imelda of her childhood bc her mom used to do her hair and tell stories🥹🥹 and Eloise has NEVER had friends before OR the experience with her own (awful) mother so she LOVES IT TOO💓💓💓 (Imelda teaches her Spanish some nights)

[namjoonscoffeeshop]

Snatch (Alternative Version) | MYG

Chapter 1 ✧ warning(s): explicit language, gun violence, kidnapping ✧ synopsis; you're dad's worst enemy escapes prison and to return the favor of imprisoning him he gets his revenge by taking the one thing that mattered to him the most; his daughter. ✧ word count: 1.7k Index|Next

The stage lights blinded you as the music ended, but yet you stared straight ahead, the crowd cheering your name. It was your first solo performance and it was everything you had dreamed of. Stepping off stage your greeted with hugs and people were congratulating you. hearing your name called  by a familiar voice you look over, finding your dad with a bouquet. "dad!" you yell running to him, jumping into his arms. "should we go celebrate" he says after congratulating you.  

exiting the dressing room after getting changed, he guides you out. "Plans change" he says in a soft voice filled with annoyance. "oh..that's fine" you respond, not surprised that he'd have to leave last minute. "did something happen?" you ask but he doesn't respond. a man walks towards the two of you handing the phone to your father who groans as he listens to the person talking. 

there were more patrol cars when you exited the building, "drive home and stay inside, I'll be home later" he says, kissing your forehead after leading you to your car "don't go out" he says quickly, making his way to a patrol car. 

driving home you felt like a important person, there were three patrol cars following you, when you finally arrived you thought they'd leave but instead they stood outside. you had no idea what was happening but it had to be serious with so many people being stationed at the house. 

turning on the t.v after showering and getting something to eat you watch the news, waiting for some sort of emergency that would cause him to be so alarmed. 

"there are no casualties as of right now, those on the scene are investigating. only thing we were informed was that Min Yoongi has escaped" 

you watch as his photo appears on the screen, the reporter asking the public to keep alert and to call the authorities if there is any sign of him or if anyone has any information. 

"this is clearly a inside job" the man reporter says, expressing his opinion on the matter "how does half a prison blow up and the most wanted criminal suddenly escapes?" 

they continue their talk, not caring for their words or how the news station would be perceived.  changing the channel didn't stop you from seeing more of the incident. "he has been locked up for five years, after the chief of police succeeded to capture him" another reporter says "and it's just been said that he is on his way to the scene"

" it isn't a good day for him, his one job that caused him the biggest promotion of his career is now on the loose" 

turning off the television you feel bitter, five years ago when your dad had taken on this task. He decided to send you away with the excuse of keeping you safe. 

his mission was to intercept Mr.Mins business and get solid evidence to criminalize him, everything revealed to the public...half the things that were revealed was enough to stop someone from sleeping. it took him two years but he succeeded. 

criticism against only arresting Min yoongi was enough to almost stop the promotion, but to my fathers defense. Mr. Min was the only one he was able to get close to. 

startled you jolt as the phone rings. 

"y/n?" 

"dad? are you ok?"

"yes, i'm fine...did you watch the news" 

"it would've been hard to not watch...seeing how you left in a hurry" theres a small silence "do you think you can get him again?"

"it was hard the first time, and he wasn't aware of what was happening"

"you're advantage" you say 

"right. but you don't need to worry about this, please rest. set the alarms and i'll see you tomorrow" after calling the academy, taking a week off which thankfully they understood why  and checking the alarms you went to bed. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

two days had passed and there was no sign of him, and the rest of his group had suddenly gone off the radar. you were getting ready for bed when the program you were watching suddenly switches to breaking news. 

"xx mall has been set into flames, the left wing is completely gone. the scene a complete mess and what's more concerning is that it's the same as the prison break of two days ago where Min-" shutting off the television you couldn't help but feel your stomach churn at the scenes of people carrying others out of the mall. you decided sleeping early, would be a better choice then to sit and wait for your dad to return. 

*CRASH*

you wake up to the sound of glass breaking. glancing at the clock on your night stand, it wasn't long since you had fallen asleep. an hour to be exact. standing from your bed, you look out the window and there was nothing out of the ordinary, there should be people up front  you bite at your lip. 

*BANG*

your body jumps as you hear the gun shot, the sound followed with someone yelling your name. you recognized his voice, the man being one of the escorts who brought you home two days ago. running to the door you hold the door knob but you freeze. 

taking in a deep breath you step out after opening the door slowly. you could hear voices and things hitting the ground as you make your way towards the stair case. stopping you look out the window, clearly you had to find a different escape route, jumping from this side will not be bad you tell your self but before you could even try and open the window you hear foot steps at the end of the hall. 

turning to face the dark figure approaching you sigh in relief "thank god someone's here" you whisper, walking towards him. "what's going o-" you feel your arms get goosebumps as he steps into the little light from the windows and it was someone you didn't recognize. "w-who are you" you say backing away, glancing at your room you kept stepping back slowly. taking the chance you turn and run to your room but he was quicker, gripping your hair as he pulls you to the ground. 

pointing the gun to your head he doesn't say a word but you didn't need him to, staying still on the ground. "don't fucking move or i'll shoot you" you hear another voice making the man in front of you sigh "this is fucking annoying" everything was silent and you didn't dare to move "y/n get up and walk towards me" he says as he stares at the offender. you listen, standing up slowly your shoulders hunched as he speaks "get back on the ground" freezing as you stare at him. 

"I am not playing any games, I will pull the trigger" 

"y/n just walk to me"

annoyed the man turns to stare at the officer, taking the opportunity you take a step foreword, instantly hearing a gun shot making you scream. 

as you crouch down and cover your ears a saying comes to your head "if you hear the gunshot, that means you aren't dead" you hear as the body drop to the ground. terrified as the man in front of you wasn't the one to drop. 

"i know you aren't happy to be here but the least you can do is try to not get killed" the man begins to walk toward the two of you, gripping your arm as he lifts you up, you try to break free but he doesn't bother. throwing you at the feet at the new comer. 

"go help downstairs" he says causing the other to groan in frustration. crouching down he lifts your face with the point of his gun as he tucks it under your chin "take her to the room, don't take your eyes off her" the light hit his face and your eyes widen.

it was him, the guy on the tv, the guy your dad in-prisoned...the guy everyone was looking for. one man who stood behind him wasted no time to lift you up, throwing you over his shoulder.  not flinching as you kicked and slapped his back, screaming profanities. 

entering your room you got a better view at the men who had broken into your house. you start to take note at their appearances just as your father taught you. 

as your thrown on the bed you glare at the man, he had piercings on his face. above his brow and lips. his arm full of tattoos, he looks around. grabbing the pillow he yanks the pillow case off and uses it to tie your hands together "you're hurting me!" you scream but he doesn't even spare you a glance. tying you legs as well he pushes you to lay back, leaving you on the bed. 

you stare at the ceiling, your eyes filled with tears. then enters the man who was in the hall. "I take that I don't have to introduce myself, since you are his daughter" you don't respond which causes him to stand at the edge of the bed. he stares at you with a brow raised "you're dad, ruined everything" he says. 

"he always said his daughter was the most precious thing to him" snorting "fucking idiot, should've never mentioned his family..doesn't matter, I would've found out about you either way"

the tattooed man comes back, "the cars are ready" licking his lips he nods "go on then" 

"please let me go" you say to the tattooed man as he leans over you on the bed, holding your waist as he lifts you over his shoulder. you begin to thrash around as you scream at them to let you go. he walks down the stairs, the scene causing you to shut up instantly as you saw all the bodies on the ground. blood splattered everywhere. 

"someone shut her up" pulling out his gun he shoves it against your head "your eyes flicking up to him, it's the man who you first saw. he follows the two of you, pointing the gun at you.

once you're thrown into the back of a car he climbs in after you "taehyung put the gun away, you know that shit annoys me" the man glares at him 

"I don't even know why you came here hoseok" 

"fuck you, let me see you hack into a system as complicated as this fucking house" sticking his middle finger at taehyung. 

once the engine starts taehyung turns towards you hitting the back of your head with the gun, knocking you out. 

[gapsbetweenlovers]

shivers

——

You're awoken by the sound of the shower being turned off, a muffled thump followed by residual droplets of water pattering onto the floor and down the gurgling drain. The room surrounding you is soaked in golden sunshine, your vision blearily adjusting to the blinding December morning. The sheets beneath you are warm despite the frigid temperature outside, and the sun manages to forge past the thin layer of cracked ice on the window panes, casting geometric shapes of light across the bed.

If you had to guess, you'd say it's sometime after seven. Luckily, it's Saturday, and you don't have any other plans except burrowing in the warmth of fleece blankets and a heated apartment. Your eyes flutter shut at the satisfying thought. It would be nice if your boyfriend could join you in the pleasure of doing absolutely nothing, but work loves to cruelly snatch him from your grasp. Weekends never really exist with him.

You turn onto your side and shiver when the blanket slips past your shoulders. Even with the heat cranked and hanging heavily in the air, being close to the windows causes the tiniest draft to waft through unknown passageways.

Behind you, the bathroom door opens with a familiar creak. The carpeted floor creaks similarly when Carmen walks around, probably getting ready for a shift at work. It feels good not to move, so you just listen intently. Dresser drawers clunk shut, fabrics rustle, and a pill bottle of painkillers rattle, the noises causing your consciousness to fully float to the surface.

It's a routine you've become accustomed to. In a matter of time, Carmen will jangle his restaurant key and leave with a kiss on your forehead before slipping out the door into the vast metropolis of early birds and breadwinners. Then you'll get more hours of shut-eye, missing the body curled beside you, before aimlessly wandering around the lonely apartment until evening darkens the sky and your burnt-out boyfriend comes home.

It's worth it when he sees you and flashes that rare, carefree smile, two little dimples indenting his cheeks.

What you don't expect this morning, however, is a prominent dip in the mattress and a wonderfully warm hand spreading over your bare back. You mumble a sleepy noise into the pillow before stretching every limb in your lax body until you tremble from an instant rush of endorphins.

"Morning," Carmen says quietly. "You got the shivers?"

You grin tiredly, rubbing at your eyes. "Yeah. Are you leaving?"

"No." His hand smooths down your spine, prompting more shivers, the pleasant kind. "There was a blizzard last night, so everything's closed because of the roads."

It makes sense. The forthcoming whiteout was all anyone talked about the past week. It must have decided to arrive early, and you're grateful you avoided driving anywhere and could sleep through the roaring gusts of winter.

"Mm... I have you to myself for the entire weekend?"

"Looks like it."

"Hallelujah," you say, ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Carmen laughs and lightly scratches at your scalp, the lulling motion forming goosebumps all over your skin. Shivering again, you burrow deeper into your blanket cocoon like a hibernating rabbit. You eventually hear Carmen get up and go about his morning. You wish you could convince him to seek shelter back in bed, but you know that he'll be wide awake until nightfall once he's up. It doesn't take long for you to drift back to sleep, sighing contently at the mere thought of two days spent snowed in with Carmen. No work or outside obligations, just you and him alone in the cozy warmth of your shared apartment.

When you awake for the second time, the sun has opted to hide behind a grey gloom for the remainder of the day. The room is still light enough to see your surroundings, thanks to the piercingly white snow scene visible beyond the sheer curtains blowing by the humming space heater. There's also a faint glow coming from the TV opposite the bed. The weather channel is droning on in the background, with repetitive talk of hazardous road conditions and powerful winds threatening the entirety of Chicago. Heaps of snow currently block the sidewalks, halting most modes of transportation.

Your senses pick up more sounds every second that passes. Snowplows rumble past every so often. The heater occasionally rattles from years of use. The wind howls fiercely, a scattered mosaic of snowflakes sticking to the windows.

And then there's… crunching.

Bizarrely enough, it almost startles you. You're out of it, the recent hazy winter mornings amplifying your drowsiness so much that you forgot you live with someone. And that certain someone is eating a bowl of cereal right next to you in bed, a plaid robe draping off his otherwise bare body (save for a pair of white briefs snug on his lower half), hair still damp from his shower and falling over his forehead like tendrils of a cute, curly plant. A corkscrew willow, perhaps.

You shift your head to watch Carmen. He's cross-legged and mindlessly watching the meteorologist on TV point at a weather map of the Midwest, blotches of blues and purples sheathing almost every county. His spoon hovers over his bowl of Fruity Pebbles, dry because milk hurts his poor, fucked-up stomach. Plus, the crunchiness of Fruity Pebbles is the best part; there's no need to ruin that delight by making them soggy.

"You're still here," you mumble, resting a hand on his thigh.

A sliver of you expected him to face the brutal winter and somehow make it to the restaurant because he's a workaholic and possesses a dire need to satisfy customers. But he probably knows well enough that no one in their right mind is stepping outside today, not even for the best deli sandwich in the Chicago area.

Carmen's leg jerks upward, his attention focusing on you. "Jesus, you're cold. How are you still freezing? You were literally wrapped in the blankets like a burrito for hours."

You let out a cat-like yawn before asking, "What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

You stiffen, not realizing time flowed by so quickly already. "Oh. Whoops."

He shakes his head with fondness. "You hungry, sleepyhead? I can make you something."

"No, don't leave," you plead, frowning when he moves a fraction of an inch.

"I'll be back," he replies, squeezing your hand still on his thigh, a weak attempt to keep him here. "Let me whip you up a couple of pancakes."

"Wait. Can we just cuddle for a bit? We never get the chance to in the mornings."

Carmen goes silent, taking one last bite of cereal before setting his bowl on the nightstand and scooting into your personal space. His body radiates heat better than any furnace could compete with. He looks younger with his disheveled hair and robe you've only seen him wear on Sundays when he's cooking a five-star breakfast for two. It's weirdly attractive to see a world-renowned chef confined to a tiny apartment, to see him cook for you in a vulnerable, domestic way. Who else knows you like a dollop of salsa on your scrambled eggs? Or how to cook bacon to the perfect crispness because you like it even if he doesn't? The intimacy of sharing a space and seeing a soft side of him no one else has makes your heart almost give out just thinking about it.

You slump into Carmen's open embrace, feeling his arms wrap around your shoulders and squeeze tightly. You pull the blanket up higher until only your head is showing. Carmen purposefully chews obnoxiously next to your ear, making you kick his shin and grumble, "You're so annoying."

He swallows and laughs, nuzzling his face in your neck. His hair tickles, and one of your arms goes numb under his back. This isn't going as planned. Coolness keeps finding pockets to writhe its way under the blanket, making you groan frustratedly.

"Can you just lay on top of me?" you ask.

Carmen makes a funny face. "What?"

"Suffocate me, but gently," you elaborate. "Like, just lay your body on top of mine. That sounds like heaven right now. Warm me up, Carmy."

"You're a wacko."

"Is that a yes?"

Your prayers are answered as Carmen maneuvers both your bodies so that he can settle on top of you, chest to chest, without the possibility of getting any closer. He's practically melding with you. Sure, it's a little more complicated to breathe, but if you died here, you wouldn't have too many complaints about the circumstances of your passing.

Oh, his natural heat and the smell of his aftershave liquify your soul entirely. Your limbs turn to jelly as his cheek rests flat against your collarbone, the addictive and potent citrus scent right under your nose. One day, you're going to bite him if he keeps smelling this glorious after a shower.

His left hand blindly searches for yours, and when he finds it, he intertwines his fingers with yours. "Warm?" he murmurs, voice slurring from… sleep? Shit, look what you've done. Now, there's no way you're both getting out of bed before noon, but maybe that was your master plan all along.

"So, so warm," you say, legs twining with his. "And happy."

You feel his small smile against your skin, punctuated with a kiss. "Good. No more shivers."

——