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theemporium · 9 months

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[4.7k] the four times carlos encourages lando to confess his feelings to the youngest sainz sister and the one time where he's had enough and takes matters into his own hands.

New Years’ Eve, 2020

It was a few minutes past eleven when Carlos found him hiding out on the balcony.

There was something so overwhelming and intoxicating about New Years Eve, something that seemed to bring so many strangers together for the end of year celebration. That was the exact reason he had practically begged the Spaniard to fly out to London after the holidays, to spend the night drinking and laughing and celebrating with him to bring in the new year.

The night had started out great. He had been surrounded by friends and friends-of-friends. He had been drinking some awful concoction Max had made that was far too sweet for his taste. He had been badly singing along to the songs blasting through the speakers and dancing—both badly and proudly—in the living room of someone's mutual friend’s house.

But then things started to get suffocating. The buzz of the alcohol started to wash away, thoughts and reality started creeping in and, suddenly, Lando didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of a group of strangers who didn’t seem to understand he didn’t want to be touched and jousted around or hugged.

He needed space. He needed fresh air. He just needed to be alone.

His lungs were burning as he took deep breaths of cold, crisp air. He let it overwhelm him, let himself focus on the fact the cold was starting to seep into his bones. He let himself focus on the present moment, rather than the millions of racing thoughts in his head. He let the loneliness ground him.

But just as quickly as that relief came, it ended.

“Why are you hiding out here for?”

Lando’s eyes instantly snapped shut as he gripped the railing, wrapping his fingers around the cold metal before he lifted his head and turned to glance over his shoulder. The Spaniard stood by the door, the buttons of his shirts undone and his cheeks flushed from the drinks he had been downing all night. His eyes were a little glossy and dazed, but his smile remained as he made his way over to the Brit.

“I’m not hiding,” Lando answered, though the response was weak and Carlos could see right through him.

“So standing on a balcony alone whilst everyone parties inside is a British New Years tradition I didn’t know?” Carlos mused as he leaned against the balcony, his body turned towards Lando. “Try again.”

“I just needed a breather,” Lando said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Carlos’ brows furrowed together. “From what?”

“Just…things,” he muttered, his eyes cast down as he spoke. “I’ll be back inside in a couple of minutes. You didn’t have to come out here.”

“Of course I did, you’re my friend,” Carlos scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What’s wrong?”

Lando shook his head. “Nothing is wrong—”

“Lando,” the Spaniard said his name in a softer voice, and something about it made his eyes well up a little. It was stupid. It was so stupid—and maybe the alcohol was playing a part—but he felt oddly emotional, and he didn’t like it. “Friends don’t lie.”

“I guess I’m just not in the mood to start a new year, that’s all,” he grumbled, feeling a bit like a whining child but it was the truth. There wasn’t much in the upcoming year that he was genuinely excited for, at least nothing that was coming to mind tonight.

“Just because we aren’t teammates anymore doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you,” Carlos said, resting a hand on his shoulder until the Brit finally looked at him again. “We are friends, Lando. Nothing can change that. Not even Charles.”

“We’ll hardly see each other,” he whispered in a soft voice.

“I’ll make time,” Carlos promised, but it still didn’t seem to be enough to put the boy’s racing mind at ease. “You know the best part of us not being teammates anymore?”

Lando froze, his brows furrowing together and he almost looked offended that Carlos could find a positive in the whole situation when his chest felt tight every single time he thought about the Spaniard in the Ferrari garage instead of the room right next to his.

“What?”

And before Lando could even question the glint in his eyes, he found his eyes following Carlos’ gaze as they both glanced back into the raging party inside—or, more specifically, where you stood in the middle of the crowd, laughing and smiling and having the time of your life.

“There is nothing stopping you now.”

Lando’s head spun back around to look at Carlos, his brows furrowed together. “Huh?”

“Lando,” he said his name like it said everything. “I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Lando let out a noise mixed between a scoff and a nervous laugh. “What? No! I—”

“Lando,” Carlos repeated, and the boy quickly pressed his lips together. “I know you didn’t want to do anything because you were scared you’d cause something but…we aren’t teammates anymore. There’s no conflict of interest. You can ask her out.”

“I don’t like your sister like that, mate,” Lando attempted to laugh off, shaking his head.

Carlos shot him a look. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So, you don’t care if she kisses someone else at midnight?”

And truthfully? He felt his stomach churn at the idea. He felt like he could keel over the balcony railing and empty his guts there and then at the idea of witnessing it. The boy had spent the last two years pathetically pining after you, he had time to get used to seeing you with someone else and yet, it still made him feel physically unwell.

But as pathetic as he was, he was also a coward. Because even if it would kill a part of him to see you kiss someone else when he so desperately wished it was him, he would still rather throw himself off the balcony before he confessed his feelings for you.

“I don’t care,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Plus, you’re her older brother. Shouldn’t you be stopping guys from coming near her?”

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. “You’re being a muppet.”

“Yeah well, it’s not the first time you’ve said that.”

Lando had told everyone he had drank far too much that night, but the truth was that he couldn’t stomach anything after watching you kiss some pretty blond guy when the clock struck midnight.

Summer Break, 2022

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not. You’ve done this on purpose.”

“It’s just a few prawns, Lando.”

“And they are making me gag!”

“They aren’t even on your plate!”

Lando glared at the small shellfish on Carlos’ plate with his nose scrunched up in disgust, a clear look of disdain on his face. He should have known the Spaniard would torture him in some way, shape or form when he invited him out for lunch. Lando just honestly assumed it would be Carlos teasing him in front of you, he didn’t realise fish would be involved.

“That is disgusting,” Lando muttered with a frown.

“You are just dramatic,” Carlos scoffed.

“Hey, give him a break,” you lightly scolded your older brother, an easy smile on your face as you pushed your pasta around your plate. “In his defence, he did look a little green when they brought it out.”

“I did not,” Lando huffed, his cheeks flaming up in embarrassment. “This is bullying. You Sainz folk are bullies.”

You snorted.

However, Carlos only rolled his eyes in response. “It is not our fault that you have the taste palate of a five year old.”

“I should have just taken Max on his offer to play FIFA over this,” Lando muttered, letting out an exaggerated squeak when he felt the Spaniard pinch his side. “Hey! Hands to yourself!”

“I thought you liked it when us Sainz folk touch you,” Carlos retorted, a glint in his eyes that made Lando’s cheeks go redder.

“Don’t be silly, cabrón,” you spoke up, a look in your eyes that matched your mother’s. “He’s just like that for Mama. Little Lando Norris likes older women.”

“I think you’ve mistaken me for Verstappen,” Lando countered.

You opened your mouth, a witty reply undoubtedly on the tip of your tongue and something in his chest buzzed in excitement to hear it. He liked it when you did this. He liked the snarky back and forth, like some weird twisted foreplay. He enjoyed the thrill it gave him, the fact your attention was purely on him and his words.

But the universe seemed to be against him as the shrill of your phone ringing interrupted whatever you were about to say, leaving you to excuse yourself as you quickly headed outside to take the call.

“For the love of everything holy, please just tell her.”

Lando tore his eyes away from the large glass window at the front of the restaurant where he had watched you animatedly talk to whoever was on the other side of the phone—not that he was jealous or anything—and instead focused on the older Spaniard next to him.

“Huh?”

Carlos shot him a blank look. “Lando.”

“Not this again,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Yes, this again!” Carlos argued as he leaned over to pinch the Brit’s side again, narrowly avoiding his hand being swatted away. “It’s been years!”

“I don’t like her like that,” Lando argued, watching as Carlos went to open his mouth, but he quickly continued. “And even if I did, it’s been years. I wouldn’t like her like that anymore.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Carlos to look more exasperated.

“You bought a camera,” Carlos stated like it was the most obvious and incriminating piece of evidence against him.

“I wanted to take up a new hobby,” Lando said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“So, you choose photography?”

“Yes.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact my sister offered to give you lessons and tips?” Carlos questioned with a knowing look.

“That was just a happy coincidence,” Lando argued.

“Mate,” Carlos sighed, heavy and exhausted, as he gestured towards the camera sat beside his plate. “You’ve literally been carrying that thing around everywhere you go in hopes it will start a conversation with her. Just ask her out.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanted a new hobby?” Lando retorted, feeling as though his face was on fire because he was right. Carlos was always fucking right. But that wasn’t something he would ever admit, especially right now. “I was thinking of starting an insta account for my photos.”

“Really?” Carlos deadpanned.

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding his head.

Carlos opened his mouth, arguments and exasperated pleas ready but was quickly cut off when he noticed you barrelling over to them with a massive grin on your face.

“I did it!”

“What?” Carlos murmured, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I got in! They accepted my portfolio! My work is going to be in the exhibition!” You all but squealed, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide you were smiling but you couldn’t stop. This was everything you had been working towards in the last few months and it was finally paying off.

“Congratulations!” Lando said, a grin just as wide as yours spread over his face as he quickly stood up from his seat, ignoring the looks Carlos was sending him as he brought you into a hug. “I told you you would get it.”

You pulled back, your smile softening a little as you looked up at the Brit. “You always do believe in me, Norris.”

“Always,” he replied, like it was instinctive.

For the rest of the meal, Lando promptly ignored the messages Carlos kept sending him under the table and instead let himself bask in your happiness, in your smiles, in you.

Silverstone, 2023

Lando Norris felt like he was standing at the top of the world.

There was a buzz of adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins, and he genuinely didn’t think his heart would ever return to a normal rate ever again. Blood was roaring in his ears as he crossed over the line, as he heard the murmurs of his race engineer in his ear confirming his position, as the screams and cheers of the crowd completely enveloped him as he pulled his car behind the P2 sign.

His body was on autopilot as he pulled himself out of the car, running towards his team and throwing himself halfway over the barrier as they cheered and slapped him on the back. Their congratulations and praises washed over him as he tried to wrap his head around it, as he tried to process the fact he had managed a podium as his home race, like he always dreamed of.

He couldn’t stop grinning as he went through all of the post-race routines, getting weighed and finding himself in the cool down room before he headed towards the podium. He basked in the cheers as he lifted the trophy over his head, as he slammed his bottle down, as he drowned himself in champagne.

Lando Norris felt like a fucking winner, if he was being completely honest.

He had been grinning down at his trophy, gripping onto it like it was his most prized possession (and at that moment, it genuinely may have been) that he hadn’t even seen you barrelling towards him until your arms were wrapped around him and your body hit his with a soft impact, enough to make him let out a small oomph before the familiar smell of your perfume washed over him.

“I am so proud of you!”

Something in his stomach fluttered widely at your words as he wound his arms around you, holding you tighter against him as he sunk into your embrace. His eyes fell shut, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and Lando believed that if he died right in that second, he would have died a happy and fulfilled man.

“Thank you,” he finally spoke when he remembered he hadn’t replied yet. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“You deserve it, especially after how this season started,” you said to the boy, your voice just loud enough for only him to hear as you held onto each other.

He clung onto you, no plans of letting you go anytime soon as you both swayed on the spot but it seemed as though you were happy to stay there too. However, the unnerving sensation of feeling like he was being watched forced Lando to open his eyes, looking over your shoulder to find your older brother staring at him.

‘Do something.’ Carlos mouthed to him.

And when you eventually did pull back, teary eyed and looking at him like he hung the moon, Lando couldn’t help but let his eyes fall down to your lips. It would be so easy, so fucking easy. He could just lean down and press his lips against yours, feel the little squeak of surprise you would let out before you sunk into his kiss. He could imagine it so fucking clearly.

But the voice of reason in the back of his head managed to scream louder than the adrenaline pumping through his body and he simply threw his arm around your shoulders instead, guiding you towards where Carlos was standing.

“Gonna celebrate with me?”

“I’m gonna get you so many shots, you won’t even remember your own name, Norris.”

Lando ignored the disappointed look Carlos sent his way and instead focused on the positives. He wasn’t going to ruin your friendship when you had a good thing going, not when there was the risk he could lose everything.

And Carlos was just going to have to mind his own business and deal with that.

Las Vegas, 2023

It happened so fast.

He didn’t even know what happened until his car finally stopped moving, when the rush of spinning and going hundreds of miles an hour came to a stop and the excruciating pain washed over his whole body.

It felt like someone was stepping on his lungs, making it really fucking difficult to breathe. His head felt fuzzy and heavy, his arms even fucking heavier. For a few moments, he couldn’t remember where he was. And then the sounds of the cars passing, the smell of rubber tires and fuel hit him and he couldn’t help but let his eyes shut as the disappointment of an unfinished race overwhelmed him.

He could hear the team in his ear, begging for a response. It took him a few attempts before he was able to properly grip the wheel and hit the radio button. It took even longer to scramble out of the wrecked car, even with the help of the marshalls. Everything felt like it was moving too slow and, for someone like Lando who thrived on speed, it was disorienting.

It was like an out of body experience, like it wasn’t really him controlling his body. He just let himself be passed from person to person, someone always guiding him on where he should go. He didn’t argue with anyone as he was taken to the hospital, feeling far too tired to even try disagreeing. He just did what they told him.

Test after test, observation after observation, talk after talk. Lando went through it all, feeling like a fucking pinball as he was tossed between different rooms and machines and doctors, but he didn’t say anything. He just wanted to lay down and sleep. He just wanted to pretend this whole weekend didn’t happen.

And when he was finally allowed to head back to the paddock to have a debrief with the team and pick up his belongings, the last thing he expected was for you to be waiting in his driver room.

“Gracias a Dios,” you breathed out in relief when your eyes settled on him, standing frozen in the doorway in a jumper that was far too large for him. But it was a passing thought as you rushed over to him, only to pause in fear of hurting him further.

However, Lando just flashed you a weak smile and brought you into a hug, feeling your body sag against him.

“I was so scared,” you murmured into his chest, sniffling a little as you spoke. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I threatened to cut Zak’s balls off if he didn’t at least tell me whether you were okay or not.”

Lando snorted softly. “He always was scared of you.”

“Good,” you grumbled before you pulled back, taking in his tired and weary expression. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” he answered, smiling a little when he saw your lips twitch upwards. “I’ll be fine. Just need to take it easy for a few days.”

You nodded. “We can have an easy night in, just watch a movie or something.”

And suddenly, it felt like someone was standing on his chest again.

“You don’t have to,” Lando said, shaking his head a little. “I know you’ll probably want to celebrate—”

“I don’t want to do anything except make sure you’re okay,” you interrupted, a note in your voice that he recognised as your unwavering stubbornness. “You can choose the movie. I promise I’ll only complain a little.”

Truthfully, how was he meant to say no to that?

He tried to pretend like his heart wasn’t racing when you later made your way to his hotel room, sprawled over his bed as you flicked through possible movie options. He tried to pretend his stomach wasn’t fluttering with butterflies when you settled against the headboard, your shoulder brushing against his. He tried to pretend like he was so completely fucking normal when you grabbed one of his hoodies, pulling ot over your head before settling back into his bed.

He was fine. So fucking fine.

Smooth Operator: this is your chance, muppet. tell her how you feel!!!

And despite Carlos’ message, Lando just enjoyed the night with you. After a crash that could have gone so much worse, he was just grateful to have your presence beside him, whether it was as a friend or something more.

At least, that is what he kept telling himself.

Sainz Christmas Party, 2023

Despite the jokes made, Lando genuinely was an honorary member of the Sainz family.

With some extra time spent in Monaco before he headed back to England to spend Christmas with his family, it was easy enough to stop over in Spain for a day or two to enjoy the annual Sainz Christmas Party before he headed home.

He had arrived the night before the party, presents in hand to give to the whole family despite their insistence that it wasn’t necessary. Something in his chest eased whenever he spent time with the Sainz family, that reassurance that even though he and Carlos are no longer teammates, they still cherish him the way he cherishes them.

The party was as extravagant and lavish as it always was. The decorations were sleek and timeless, the wine was expensive and top of the range, and the food served to the many guests was some of the finest Lando had ever truly eaten.

It felt like a home away from home as he stood beside Carlos Senior and Reyes, a glass of some fancy champagne in his flute as he laughed and chatted away to them.

That same flute that was almost knocked out of his hand as Carlos came rushing towards him, muttering apologies to the other guests as he pushed past them and beelined towards the Brit. He placed a hand on Lando’s arm, giving his parents a strained smile as he did.

“Lo siento,” he simply said before tugging Lando away from his parents and the rest of the crowd, leading him down some random hallways in the Sainz household.

“Woah, Carlos, what’s wrong?” Lando questioned, abandoning the flute of champagne on some table they passed before he split it all. “Where are we going?”

“I need your help with something important and I need you to not ask too many questions,” Carlos stated simply, which only made Lando’s concern grow tenfold.

“Carlos—”

But the Brit barely got a chance to say anything before Carlos opened a random door and gave him a hearty shove as he stumbled into the small cupboard. The boy let out a noise of surprise, taking a few moments to realise he had stumbled into you before everything clicked. He whirled around, ready to give the Spaniard a piece of his mind, but the door was quickly slammed in his face and locked shut from the outside.

“Carlos!” Lando yelled, banging on the door a few times with his fist, but it was useless.

“No, I have waited five years! I’m sick of this! If you won’t do something about this, then I have to.”

Lando kept his gaze on the door as his cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I am going to kill you!”

“You can’t kill me if I never let you out.”

His ears burned. “Carlos—”

“You’ll thank me later. Feliz Navidad and don’t forget to look up!”

The telling sound of footsteps rushing off made it clear that Carlos had quickly disappeared, leaving you and Lando trapped in the small cupboard for god-knows how long. The Brit let out a groan, leaning his forehead against the cold wooden door as he tried to settle his pounding heart.

“Ouch. I didn’t realise being trapped with me was that bad.”

“No,” Lando quickly shook his head, guilt eating away at him but he still didn’t turn to look at you. “It’s not that, I just—” he paused for a few moments before he spoke again. “He’s only doing this because of me, I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into it.”

“Lando,” you murmured his name softly, a hand placed on his lower back and he could have sworn your touch had burned through the layers of his clothes.

“I’m really sorry—”

“Lando,” you repeated again, your voice a little firmer and your hand remained where it was. “Look at me.”

He shook his head.

“Please,” you continued, and your voice tugged on his heartstrings too tightly to say no.

Lando slowly turned around, a sheepish expression on his face as he took you in. You looked absolutely fucking breathtaking in the dark green dress you were wearing, the ends swaying and brushing against the floor when you moved. Your hair was curled to perfection, your makeup enhancing every feature to make you look prettier (if that was even fucking possible). But god, the best part of your whole ensemble was the smile you gave him.

He would move mountains to see that fucking smile.

“Don’t apologise,” you said, shaking your head.

“But—” He started.

However, you just shook your head. “It’s Christmas.”

He paused, frowning a little at your response. “Huh?”

“It’s Christmas,” you said with a knowing smile before your gaze shifted upwards, and he couldn’t help but follow your eyeline. Something in his stomach flipped when he saw the sprig of mistletoe hanging above you both.

Lando swallowed harshly as he glanced back down at you, his eyes instantly landing on your lips.

“It’s bad luck to break tradition,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. And it took a few seconds. A few split seconds for Lando to truly wrap his head around everything.

This time he didn’t let himself hesitate as he reached up, his hands completely engulfing your cheeks in his hold before he smashed his lips against yours. And just like he imagined—like he dreamt about—you let out a noise of surprise before you sunk into his embrace.

Your hands fisted the lapels of his blazer, tugging him impossibly closer in the small cupboard until your body was pressed against his. You let out a desperate noise when his tongue darted against your bottom lip, happily letting the boy completely consume you and the air you breathed. His arms around your waist, keeping you close and tight like you were going to disappear. And god, neither of you wanted to pull away.

“Shit,” he breathed out when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning and screaming for air. He pressed his forehead against yours, your lipstick undoubtedly smudged against his lips but he didn’t care. No, he didn’t think he could ever care about anything other than kissing you ever again. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

“I have been waiting for you to do that for so long,” you retorted, your hands smoothing the lapels of his blazer before they slid up to rest on his shoulders. “Five years, to be exact.”

Lando blinked. “What?”

And you smiled, wide and unbashful, and he thought the whole world stopped moving.

“You weren’t subtle. But apparently you were too oblivious to notice the fact I liked you back,” you said as your fingers lightly traced along the collar of his shirt.

“You knew?” His brain took a few seconds before he fully processed your words. “You liked me back?”

“Like,” you corrected. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be locked in a cupboard with you hoping you kiss me again.”

His hands squeezed your waist, a smile making its way onto his face before he could really stop himself. “I—” His cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t care. “Fuck, I think I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming, I promise,” you murmured as you tilted your head back to look up at him, eyes full of adoration that he had never really noticed until now. “But better late than never, right?”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, and because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned down to peck your lips again. Though, it was a little hard when he couldn’t stop grinning. “I have five years of bad dates and secret makeout sessions to catch up on.”

Your grin widened. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Lando murmured and, for the first time in five years, the tightness in his chest felt desired and wanted. The tightness was reassuring, it was the proof he had that this was all really happening.

“Merry Christmas, Lando.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

And maybe—just fucking maybe—he would thank Carlos for giving him that shove he needed to have the best thing in his life: you.

#lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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a-kaash-me-outside · 7 months

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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

Text

Billion Dollar Baby - Grid x Billionare! Reader x Lewis Hamilton (Rom) Part 2

Plot: Girlie loves Formula One, but she also loved Chaos and Drama so she offers the FIA/ the F1 Teams 300 million to do a race … for her under her rules!

You’d been working tirelessly with the FIA and all the teams, making sure that their cars were the same as the ones currently on track and that the teams still had enough time for their regular tasks within the team.

You’d been between the UK, Monaco, Italy and the US. Helping all the teams prepare, going round to get special one time sponsors involved in the name of charity and you were honesty exhausted.

You decided it was time for a break, and therefore time to call upon one of your holiday homes. You didn’t know whether you wanted to go to Greece or Mauritius. But you knew you just needed some time away.

You were walking around London looking for a new suitcase, your 10 year old Louis Vuitton had finally given up and was no longer able to be used. So you knew you needed to find something different.

“Do you guys like this one?” You asked the security guards that were with you. Your personal assistant was also supposed to be there, but since you were about to go on holiday she also decided to take her annual leave.

Apparently she got a last minute flight to Canada, and you knew she worked extremely hard to make your horrendously busy like a little easier so you knew this would be important for her.

“Mmmm very nice Miss” one smiles and you cock your head to the side with a little laugh.

“No passion, I definitely needed Lysa here” you sigh jokingly making security laugh.

“Miss, where do you wish to go after this? Harrods is close enough” he offers and you nod, knowing it was safely walkable.

As your walking you spot someone across the street from you, and before you can even look to see if there are any cars coming down the one way street you’re crossing the road to that individual.

“Lewis! Lewis! Hi!” You smile running over to him, your group of security chasing after you.

“Y/N? What are you doing in the UK?” He asks looking over you. He hadn’t seen you since the meeting with all the teams and the FIA, you looked more tired. Not that you looked bad tired, Lewis thought it was impossible for you to look bad at all, he’s seen you at your worst and still thought you were gorgeous.

“Just here before I go on holiday for a little bit. Most of my work is done with the teams so I wanted a little break from work and this race that I’ve been organising. I hope you’ll find it fun, and get a chance to see a new light of the sport” you smile calmly and be smiles back at you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, knowing you had a few comfort vacation sports and if he were to guess you’d be going to one of those rather than somewhere new.

“Mauritius” you smile and he grins, you guys always went there together. He was shocked that you hadn’t sold the Villa on after the two of you broke up considering how many summer or winter breaks you’d spent there.

“At the Villa? Or?” He asks.

“Mmmm at the Villa, say you guys have a nice little break now. Do you want to come with me?” You ask out if the blue.

“Oh, erm you want me to come with you?” He asks a bit shocked that you’d offered.

“Yeah for old time sake?” You smile awkwardly and he just coughs with a little laugh.

“Look, I thought about what you said and you were … are it for me too. And if you want to, I’m willing to try again. Only if … that’s something you wanted” you admit and he just stands there with his jaw dropped, the security guards are awkwardly trying to act as if they aren’t actually there.

“Y/N, I thought …” he says and you cock your head in confusion.

“You thought?” You push him to finish what he was about to say.

“You hated me in all honesty. And I thought you’d never give me another chance. I don’t even know if I deserve one with the way I ended things” he sighs.

“We needed things to end when they did Lewis otherwise it was going down a route neither of us would have been happy down. But I think we’ve both had time to grow since and I think part of me always knew if make my way back to you!” You smile at him and a soft grin breaks out on his face.

“Of course I’ll come with you! What are you doing right now?” He asks finally smiling and nodding at your security and saying a small little hello.

“Suitcase shopping the Dior one has officially been decommissioned” you smile and he nods knowing the exact one you were on about considering it was brought to every race, every business trip and every holiday you joined him on or he joined you on.

“Ah yes. The one that the spider from Qatar travelled back to the UK with us in” he laughs at the memory and how you both freaked out seeing the thick bodied brown spider that to you and Lewis thought could be some kind of Tarantula.

“Oh god don’t remind me! That was terrifying! Do you want to come help me look for a new one, we were about to go to Harrods” you offer and you smile at him.

“Yea, I think I’d like that!” He smiles taking your hand.

deuxmoi

Liked by y/user and 37,478 others

deuxmoi Spotted in London last night, y/user and lewishamilton ex partners … is there a rekindling of their relationship that ended in 2021? Or are they just hanging out as exes who bumped into each other. 📸 beckylecky2

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estiebestie: please omg mum and dad NEED to get back together

lecsainz: omg this wasn’t on my f1 bingo card

landoscurls: y/n ~ best WAG

-> valtteripeaches: she’s been my fav since 2016

avengermaxv1: damn thought that was done and dusted in 2021

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monzamash · 2 years

Text

unless you like that — daniel ricciardo

summary – it’s events season and the alcohol is flowing. rating – a whole lotta smut 18+ (sex scene, course language, drinking) pairing – daniel ricciardo x you (female reader) word count – 3.8k of absolute filth a/n – bit of plot but mostly just sex because drunk, flirty danny ric makes me feral. that's it. enjoy the ride. masterlist

All you wanted to do was drag Daniel back to your hotel room, get reacquainted after a couple of torturous weeks of being apart, maybe run a hot bath and enjoy the rest of your night in peace.

In your dreams.

You never really had Daniel for long during the season and because of that, you wanted to make the most of your time actually being in the same country, let alone the same city. But your handsome, social butterfly of a boyfriend had other ideas – ones that didn’t factor in your desire to have him all to yourself.

So good to see ya too, mate.

We’ve gotta catch up next time you’re in LA, man.

Maaaate, long time no see!

How’s ya mum going? Tell her I said hi.

The mum's bloody loved themselves a bit of Daniel Ricciardo.

The long, doting line of people wanting to wish Daniel good luck for next year and praising his strength through adversity while getting a sneaky selfie was never ending. To put it plainly, it was obnoxious but you were used to it now. He was effervescent, charismatic – a big ‘ol magnet to anyone and everyone. You loved him endlessly, admired his ability to smile through the pain even more but all you wanted to do was say goodnight to everyone and leave.

Barely two words were shared before you were whisked off in a car and through the doors of this swanky restaurant – the private function room and bottomless champagne making it less excruciating.

“All I can think about is getting this over and done with so I can come back here and rip this unbelievably beautiful dress off you.”

Those ‘barely two words’ were enough ammunition to last you a couple of hours, holding onto the hope of that promise coming true. But right now you had to try and enjoy the night and put any filthy thoughts you may or may not be having aside for the sake of your own sanity. Smile and wave.

You didn’t know exactly what the party was for but you knew that the McLaren team were the ones throwing it from the obnoxious amount of orange balloons hanging from the ceiling – and that Daniel was obliged to attend. But you would never have guessed that he was there as a contractual obligation the way he floated through the room, saying hello to every last individual, bright smile adorning his face. He made each and every person feel like a million bucks. That’s why they loved him, because he made them feel at ease – like he was one of them.

Daniel didn’t think there was a whole lot for him to be celebrating but he always underestimated how loved he was by McLaren – racing problems aside, he was adored by the staff who were devastated to see him leaving.

And somehow in a room of nearly a hundred people, he knew nearly everyone by name, zeroing in long enough to have them eating out of the palm of his hand.

Your words, not his.

“Could you say hello to my grandson – he loves you.” An older lady asked, phone locked and loaded for the video. God help him if he said no.

“Absolutely.”

Of course he said yes. That was the kind of person Daniel was. Not a people pleaser or a push over – just a genuinely nice guy with more patience than anyone you’d ever known.

After making your way around most of the room, you finally had a second to drink in your man. The freshly steamed, light blue linen shirt was lazily buttoned over his shoulders, leaving a the tiniest bit of chest hair showing for good measure and to tease you, no doubt. He’d gone for his classic black skinny jeans sitting atop a pair of shiny black dress shoes look that you loved and those wild curls that you’d spent hours twirling between your fingers flowed onto his forehead – he looked so fucking good.

His charm and kindness always had you singing his praises and you made sure he knew how wonderful he was, how attractive he was. Your soft whispers of admiration had his heart pumping as he took a sip of his Chateau Margaux red, lips quirked in a smile. “So sexy.”

“Which part of all that was sexy? The bit where I filmed a video for that women’s grandkid? You are an absolute deviant if that’s makin’ ya feel a certain way, my girl.”

Daniel loved to tease, especially when it garnered that kind of reaction. Rolling eyes, flushed cheeks and a gentle shove in the arm. He fucking lived for it.

“No, dickhead.” You scolded under your breath, “Just… you being you. I don’t know what it is.”

You couldn’t put your finger on it but you knew how it made you feel. Seduced.

“Maybe you can figure it out in our hotel room.”

Daniel shrugged with a smirk lining his lips, nonchalantly throwing out the idea as if he hadn’t been plotting a way to leave the party early. Wishing for nothing more than to have you praising his other set of skills, if you catch my drift. Rolling your eyes with flushed cheeks but in a very different context. He was twitching at the thought as his fingertips lightly scratched at the silky material covering your ribs, dragging your body closer to his.

“Don’t tempt me, Ricciardo. All I’ve wanted since the second we got here was to leave so don’t talk a big game if you can’t deliver.” You were whispering in his ear, hoping to spur on those scheming eyes staring back at you.

“When have I not delivered? Just call me FedEx,” He joked, swaggering away from the bar and waving to Lando who had just rocked up with his crew in tow.

“Do we even know what this party’s for?” Lando asked over the loud music blasting through the speakers, taking the smallest step back after he gave us both a hug hello.

Lando looked dapper compared to his usual hoodie and track pants ensemble that he'd wear around the track. He was slightly confused by the overt extravagance he’d walked into but he was always smiling your way, making you feel welcome. You were going to miss his cheekiness and the way he brought out a different side to Daniel. Mischief always seemed to follow those two.

“Probably just a way for McLaren to swing their dick around before the end of the season,” Daniel shrugged, completely oblivious to how crude his comment was. Thankfully Lando was more than used to it now after working so closely with him so you didn’t have to apologise on Daniel’s behalf.

“The wine’s ace though.” He quickly added.

“You would say that,” Lando replied, snickering quietly as he looked over at the bar, “Might actually grab a drink and come back. Want anything?"

Lando looked between you and Daniel as you both shook your heads until he turned away and disappeared into the crowd, “Kid’s not gonna know what hit him next year – being the golden boy isn’t what it’s cracked up to be…”

You nodded and watched Daniel’s eyes following Lando, pensively taking a sip of his wine before sighing and glancing back to you, “What?”

“Nothing,” You tutted, “It’s funny how much you care about him now after how rocky the relationship was in the beginning. I love that he’s softened you a little bit, made you less of a prick.” You winked.

The insincere insult tacked onto the end made Daniel’s thick eyebrows rise with faux hurt, an exaggerated gasp masterfully added for emphasis, “Me? A prick? I wouldn’t reckon a prick snags a girl like you.”

You watched as Daniel sculled the rest of his wine, a devilish smirk hiding behind the large glass, “No chance. Unless you like that.”

“I don’t hate it.”

Daniel's laugh was dark as he took a step forward, lessening the gap between the two of you before reaching up and brushing your hair over your shoulder, “Now you’re tempting me and that’s not fair.” He whispered into your ear, carefully placing his empty glass on the table beside you.

“Nothings really fair though, is it? You having to be here instead of buried deep inside me, fucking me until I –”

“The bar line’s a fucking ‘mare,” Lando loudly interrupted and caused you to jump back from Daniel’s side. You steadied yourself on his hip for balance as you watched Lando plot his next move.

“Oh, there’s Charlotte – she’ll have an in!”

You and Daniel politely nodded again while he shot off in the other direction, and the two of you shifted away from the middle of the room, out of view of prying eyes and into a private nook. Daniel was quick to pin you up against the wall, large hand pressing into your hip as you looked up at him with innocent eyes. He could see right through you.

“Don’t give me that look,” He growled, eyes narrowed. “Look at what you do to me.”

His whispered words and flickering eyes encouraged your hands that were playing with his slightly parted shirt to travel further south, fingertips tracing over his dark denim jeans that were a lot tighter than when he first got here. Almost too tight.

“You are fuckin’ cruel, sweetheart.”

The painfully hard outline pressing against your palm intoxicated your already foggy mind, mouth watering. You could feel your thighs magnetically pulling together as his thumb flicked the dimple in your chin, forcing you to look into his dark, misty eyes that were watching your every move.

"Want me to do something about it?" It was a bold question to ask, a dangerous one, even when you noticed his eyes change colour. They were blacker than the night sky now.

Daniel was exasperated, anguished by the question as he smiled and dipped his forehead onto yours. The answer was obviously “abso-fucking-lutely, get down on your knees and show me you love me” but he knew better. And so did you. Still, the warm puff of air from his laugh still sent surging chills down your arched spine, needy for his touch.

“I hate sayin’ no to you,” He rasped and closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, “Especially when I know how fucking good you feel but no. You can't.”

You dryly chuckled and brushed your hands over his puffed out chest, “Must be absolute torture, my boy. Thankfully I can hide how I’m feeling – you? Not so much.” You replied with gritted teeth and a shrug, smirk dancing on your lips.

“Yeah, you’re fuckin’ in for it later, mate.” He playfully retorted before pulling himself from your grasp and leaving you with what he thought was a threat, but what you took as a promise you hoped to God he would keep. You were soaked. to. the. core.

The expensive champagne continued to flow freely for hours and several glasses of wine later had you and Daniel fumbling around at your hotel room door, unsure whether you’d arrived at the right number and having absolutely no idea where the key card you barely remembered giving him had gone. It also didn’t help that Daniel’s lips hadn’t left the crook of your neck while you dug through your clutch, his fingers inching closer to danger with every passing second.

“Lemme see your pockets,” You huffed and shoved your hand into his jeans pocket, causing a loud shriek to slip from his lips.

“You’re just tryin’ to touch my dick!” He shouted, louder than he expected and definitely louder than you accepted as appropriate, even in your drunken stupor, "You can if ya want."

“Shuuuush!” You hissed, trying not to laugh as Daniel gazed up at the ceiling and reached into his back pocket, searching until his eyes lit up with excitement. “Ah-huh!”

“Thank god – now hurry up and fuck me please!” You whisper-yelled, praying for the sweet sound of a door unlocking.

“Alright, ya horn-bag. Give me a sec- ond… Shit!” Daniel paused and looked back at you with wide eyes, “Wrong room.”

You could faintly hear the sound of footsteps behind the large door in front your shocked face. Before you could even muster a response to his mortifying revelation, Daniel had you in his grasp, dragging you down the hallway, panting and hoping he had a plan. He always did.

“Room 1001 – not 1011,” He coughed through his laughter, hovering the keycard over the lock and finally revealing the room we’d left nearly 5 hours ago, “Home sweet home.”

“Shut up,” You mumbled, throwing your arms over his shoulders and jumping into his embrace. Daniel groaned at your sudden burst of energy and hoisted you up on his waist, mouths instantly attached and desperately trying to defy physics.

Your vision was blurry when you pulled away for air, lips still touching, noses knocking and your hands still roaming the expanse of Daniel’s broad shoulders. You could feel him moving you further into the room that was spinning, the ceiling fan still whirring above your head. That was the first thing you saw when you landed on the messy hotel bed and left for dead by Daniel who was chuckling at the foot, watching you lay back in defeat.

“I’m stupidly drunk.” You huffed.

Daniel nodded as you looked up at him through hooded eyes, “So, so drunk.”

“Not that drunk.”

Your pointed finger and wiggling eyebrows told him exactly what you were referring to, lip bite and dark eyes forever selling you out.

“Take off your pants.” You ordered.

Daniel’s grin dropped into a smirk as you propped yourself up on your elbows, encouraging your boyfriend to give you a little show. Tipsy or not, Daniel knew what you wanted and he’d move heaven and earth to give you whatever you asked for. A heat rushed across his chest as he gazed down at you, undressing for him. The silky satin dress slipped off a lot easier than it went on, a detail not going unnoticed by Daniel who was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, moaning at the sight of your white lacy thong that you knew he loved.

“Killing me.”

“You love it, baby.”

“I live for it.”

The banter was hot, if not hotter than the actual sex. Foreplay was your forte but you weren’t in a ‘building a narrative’ kind of mood. It was primitive now – the primal need for a release outweighing the desire to fuck around with each other. That was the kind of fun best saved for the morning. You were already looking forward to that.

“Look how wet I am for you, Danny.”

Daniel growled as he kicked his jeans off, boxer briefs attached as they flung across the room, discarded with his wrinkled linen shirt. He stood for a moment – naked, painfully hard and begging to be touched before crawling up onto the California king. You could feel him throbbing as he brushed up on your inner thigh, legs open and wrapped around his waist in a matter of seconds. Lips attached again, frenziedly needing for more.

“Give it to me.” You pathetically pled.

“I wanna taste first.”

You resented his love for you in that moment. Resented that he wanted to indulge in what you had to offer, when all you wanted was the main course. The sharp huff that slipped from your lips made Daniel chuckle into your inner thigh, sloppy kisses followed by tiny nibbles, undeniably revving you up but also making the pout on your face that much more noticeable.

“You’re sexy even when you’re mad,” He almost slurred, closing the gap between you and his indescribably proficient tongue. Hot breath fanning over what you could only imagine was your glistening pussy. Ready for him to enjoy. Fuck.

“You are a fucking drug. A sweet, delicious drug that'll be the death of me.”

Daniel hummed before flattening his tongue against you, loving eyes locked on yours before your head tilted back, throat barely squeaking out a moan. He lapped and lapped and lapped away at you, paying close attention to the way you curled up when the tip of his nose slipped over your clit, your moan changing in pitch. He was always in heaven devouring you like this, until he was somewhat satisfied. He wasn’t selfish and he knew what you wanted, even if he could’ve stayed like that until the sun came up. Feasting.

“Daniel, please.”

“Full naming me when I just wanna make you feel good is mean, baby.”

Daniel was playing. And you were teasing. He loved hearing you moan his whole name – his mind reeling back to the time you screamed out his full name as you came, subsequently rushing him to his own finish line. Exploding.

“I wanna cum around your cock. That’s all I want,” You sighed and finally opened your eyes, clutching and admiring at the sprinkling of chest hair. Daniel was drunk, but not drunk enough to not realise how lucky he was to have you spread out beneath him, pleading for him to fuck you into another dimension.

“Your wish is my… demand? Command? Your wish is my something,” Daniel couldn’t quite find the saying in the midst of his excitement, and you couldn't hold back the fit of laughter as you threw your head into the pillows.

“Smooth, Ricciardo,” You giggled as you felt his slick tip teasing your hole, fists clenched beside your head and a smirk the size of the equator on his face.

“Well how does it go then, smarty pants?” Daniel nodded his head and gently sank into you, revelling in the feeling of you engulfing every inch he had to give while he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head, waiting for your answer.

“I –” You stammered, adjusting and sucking in a sharp breath, “I have no… No idea, and I don’t… fucking care.”

Daniel chuckled as his wispy curls fell into his eyes, watching you lick your lips and gather yourself. You were blurry in his vision, the alcohol now really pumping through his veins as he gripped your hips in his large hands, palms perspiring and brows following suit. Your fingertips trailed from his chest down to his pelvis, skin hot to the touch and tattoos glistening from sheen of sweat covering his perfect body.

“Fuck me just like that… Oh my god.” You snapped open your lust filled eyes – blazing flames erupting in Daniel’s as they caught yours.

“Feels fuckin’ good, ey.”

It was a rhetorical question but you nodded anyway.

Daniel was huffing and puffing as your lips tried to find his, hands cradling his slacked jaw. Drunken sloppy sex was one of your favourite genres and it’d been a hot minute since you’d found yourselves with the taste of red wine still lingering on your tongues, fucking like animals. He was thrusting hard until he noticed your hand crawl down to where your bodies met, the delicate touch slowing his movements and capturing his undivided attention.

“Oi,” Daniel breathed and sat back on his knees, still warming in your tight pussy. Your eyebrows quirked with intrigue and a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as he grabbed your hand and guided it up to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. Fanning the flames deep inside.

His tongue swiped across your soft fingertips, making sure each one was dripping wet with spit before sliding them back down between your trembling thighs, “Bet that feels better, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. Much better,” You managed to moan out as he wrapped his arm around your lower back and angled your hips up to his cock, watching himself slowly slide in and out while you circled your clit, edging yourself closer with every touch.

Daniel picking up the pace meant he wasn’t far from his high, the tell tale signs were consistent and always a dead giveaway. The flush of red creeping up his neck and veins bulging under his taut skin was the first sign. Filthy words whispered into your ear was the second and grunts vibrating in his chest as his focus was pulled to you and only you were one of the final ones before he couldn’t hold on any longer.

But he never left you high and dry. Not in a million fucking years.

"Right fucking there, Danny!" You shouted, oblivious to your screams almost certainly alerting the neighbouring room. Even if you were conscious of the volume of your voice, you couldn’t have cared less. Your man was putting on a show and you’d be damned if you didn’t make sure he knew how good he was giving it to you.

"I'm right there..."

"Cum all over my cock, beautiful."

You squealed into the pillow you’d been gripping, scrunching your nose at how fucking good he felt filling you to the brim. Daniel eased your thrashing body through the shockwaves, making sure you felt every last writhe of pleasure – every nerve set alight by the fire burning in your stomach as that perfectly tied knot quickly unravelled. He was holding on for dear life, cursing how tight you felt coming around his aching cock.

"I need to see your face, baby. Look at me."

Daniel’s raspy voice snapped you back to reality as your hips rocked violently against his. That and your blown-out pupils boring into his was enough to send him tumbling over the edge, unloading everything he had and more.

Daniel clutched your shuddering thighs with his searing fingertips as he bucked one, two, three times and placed one of his shaky palms against the hotel wall, trying to catch his breath as he filled you up. Your eyes were lazily shut, slowly regaining some semblance of consciousness and clawing at the skin on Daniel’s abdomen – attempting to soothe him through his high. Selfishly, you were too caught up in your own that you’d forgotten he was even still there. You'd make up for that later.

For now, you were in bliss. Laboured breathing filled the comfortable silence as you searched for one another, floating back down to the real world.

"Come back to me," Daniel teased quietly as a sly grin swept across your face, eyes closed and skin still tingling from his hot touch. He fell beside you and rolled off the bed in search of something, anything to clean up the mess you’d made together.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," You whispered back, earning a hoarse chuckle in return. Daniel looked like a mirage on a hot summers day when you opened your eyes and watched him exit the en suite, tissue box in hand.

"What a review."

Proudly boasting after sex was a regular occurrence with Daniel and you loved it; encouraged it even. He chucked the tissue away and practically tripped back into bed, still tipsy and feeling the full effects now that he wasn't under your intoxicating spell. At least for now, anyway.

He flicked off the lamp and sent the room into complete darkness before you felt his warm arm snaking around your naked waist, pulling you into his pounding chest. You were exhausted and almost numb from the long night but satisfied above all else. Thirst well and truly quenched.

You could always rely on Danny for that.

click for more of my writing if you're interested.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 #monzamashmasterlist #forgive me lord for i have sinned #its actually pretty vanilla compared to some of my other ideas #so stay tuned i guess!#dr3

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directionernullneun · 1 year

Text

The best present

So, I wrote something again.

Pairing: AzrielxReader

Warning: Fluff, Y/N is a bit sad

________________________________________

Nothing is more complicated than leaving the thing that brings you happiness.

You hadn’t known that when you left Velaris to see the world, to get to know what lay beyond the stomping grounds you were used to. You had been so excited for it, telling all your friends, your family – telling him – all about it, leaving basically no space for a different theme. Of course, you knew that you’d miss them, that you would miss the night outs at Ritas’, the nights down at the River, the late night talks. But you had always wanted to know more.

And when the High Lord himself had suggested for you to move threw the courts, overseeing their soldiers training you accepted it right away.

Now – nearly a year later – you were standing on a summer court balcony missing everything about home. Or maybe, missing everything about him. It really was the little things that brought tears to your eyes. The way he had always known your favorite drink and ordered it before you had made your way through the crowd. His amused voice, when your knife – once again – ended up landing centimeters away from the target. His proud look when you brought down your opponents with a move you had just learned from him. The way his smile had only faltered a little bit when you had told him about your new adventure. Or the shadows that had been around you since forever not being here to ruffle your hair or slink through your fingers.

The way, it had always been about him.

You sighed, brushing away the stray tear that had tried to make its way down your cheek. You still had at least a year of your assignment left and Starfall was a few months out. Never in a million years would you have stayed outside of Velaris on that date.

But right now, all you wanted was scarred hands to hold you. To wish you a happy birthday in person and not through the most beautiful bouquet of flowers and a heap of small presents being delivered to your chamber.

“He must like you a lot”, the maid had said, when she nearly tumbled down the small stair to your room, when she had brought everything in this morning. You had huffed out a little laugh. “Yeah..I guess”, you had said, to occupied with trying to turn down your racing heart. Present after present you had opened, that made you smile so much, you feared your mouth would get stuck. But after the rush came the down. No present – as thoughtful as it could be - was enough to make you forget he wasn’t here.

“God, I just fucking miss you”, you mumbled to yourself, letting your head fall into your hands. Azriel had always been by your side. When you met in one of the Illyrian camps he had been scared and scarred. You had been bubbly and way too female to stay alone in that place. But you didn’t have a choice with your dad being one of the leading soldiers and your mom living with him on the grounds. You had taken a liking to the new winged male the second your eyes had spotted him in the bloody ring. You walked after him, when he left the fight and told him you’d be friends from now on. He’d looked at you a little funny but didn’t deny it and that was it.

When you grew older you made him train you. You didn’t want to stay in the house at night and you didn’t want to fear every male you encountered outside of Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand. Your mom had nearly gotten a heart attack, when she found you in the ring with him – and your dad threatened to cut of Azriels wings if he kept training you.

So, you hid it. Hid all the weapons you had gotten yourself. You hid what you did in the woods, how he copied every lesson he was given and brought it back to you. And in the end, he had made you one of the best soldiers in the camp. A fact no one could deny after you battled your way through an ambush of foreign males, leaving none of them alive.

It hadn’t been a surprise to anyone when you decided to leave the camps and work under Cassian and Azriel in Rhysands army, training females to become soldiers too.

And now you’re here. In a wonderful place but utterly alone. Of course, you kept in contact with your home, but shorts visits, small letters and the occasional meetings were just not the same. Especially when you had realized that friendship was not at all what you wanted from Azriels. Of course, there had been males in your life and females in his – but no relationship ever came close to the feelings you had for Azriel. But it had taken a whole year away from him, to make you realize.

A small whisper of wind made you raise your head, and you scanned your surroundings. The beautiful lake beneath your balcony lay still, a few maids going their ways in the gardens and your eyes couldn’t find anything unusual.

Except.

Except the small shadow wiggling around your thump.

You had interlocked your fingers, but where there had only been your skin, the small shadow now happily wrapped itself around your fingers, sliding down to your wrist and nearly forming a bracelet. Tears stung in your eyes again and a happy little laugh escaped yourself.

“Hey, little friend”, you said while playing with the smooth darkness. Azriels shadows had always taken a liking to you, always being close and always being a direct path to their master. “What are you doing so far away from home?”, you questioned, while the shadow seemed to only grow happier with the way you were stroking him.

“He missed you. And he wasn’t the only one.”

You whipped around when you heard the low voice. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, because there was no way, that it could be the real Azriel stand in the doors that separated your bedroom from the balcony. He was leaning against the windows frame, a small smile on his lips, hands tucked inside his leathers’ pockets.

“What-“ You couldn’t speak, too confused to make sense of the situation.

“Did you really think, I wouldn’t show up on your birthday?”, he questioned, slowly moving closer to you.

“You send gifts. A lot of them”. Your eyes met his and his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah. But I just couldn’t stay away. I wanted to see you”, he mumbled looking at everything but you.

“I missed you too”, you said, not even trying to stop the small tears that were falling down your face. “Come here”, he said, raising his arms and nothing in the world could have stopped you from accepting the hug. He crushed you against his chest, pressing small kisses to your hair and whispering the sweetest birthday wishes in your ear. His voice letting goosebumps rise on your skin. This was everything you had whished for.

Well, maybe not everything. But it was close.

“I have one gift for you, that I need to give you myself”, he mumbled, and you brought a bit of distance between your cheek and his chest.

“You don’t need to give me more presents. I have a whole room full of them and the best present is you being here.”

“Well, I really hope, that this is even better”, he said, cupping your face in his hands and looking you in the eyes.

“Az-“

He stopped you from trying to say anything with closing his lips over yours, his body strung like a wire. And you didn’t know what to do. This was what you dreamed about for the last few months, but you never thought it would become reality. When you didn’t move a muscle Azriel let go of you, moving back.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I thought – I just needed you to kno-“

“Shut up and kiss me again.” You smiled, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him closer. He kept looking at you with wide eyes when you rose up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. A small noise left his chest and then his arms encircled you, pulling you impossibly close.

And when you ended the night tucked under his wing, drinking whine on the summer court balcony, fingers and shadows dancing over exposed skin, you were sure of one thing. THIS was the best present he could have ever given you.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #batboys

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sukisheadlights · 7 months

Text

MAKE ME STAY!

landonorris x famous!oc

summary: where she sends the Internet into a slow spiral after releasing a song out of the blue (except it’s not out of the blue, it’s papaya)

part 2: make me stay, series masterlist

faceclaim: dua lipa 🫶

rory’s voice mail 🎧: PART 2! sorry it took a while I was just waiting for ms.lipa to post more photos of herself and her red hair. anyways, enjoy! love you (say it back)

ALSO!!! i was supposed to finish these parts before the new season started but that didn't happen so I'm quickly going to catch up to the next few races and move to this year's season :) mwah

@THEHOLLYWOODFIX • 2 hours ago

"Red-Hot Romance? Lando Norris Seen Leaving Vegas Party With Same Mystery Woman as Before — Are They Hooking Up or Dating?"

In a city where parties never cease, it seems that Formula 1 driver Lando Norris just can't get enough of nightlife. Just a week after being spotted leaving a Vegas party with a mysterious red head, the 24-year-old was seen doing the exact same thing once again! It's unclear whether Norris and the red head are just having a little fun or if a deeper relationship is brewing, but we're sure his fans are keeping a close eye to see what happens next.

Who is this mystery woman and does she have the beloved driver wrapped around her finger?

"Waking up in the bed of a Formula 1 driver..again..I guess I can scratch that off the bucketlist." liz thinks to herself as she slips out of the bed she spent the night in, quietly making her way to the kitchen.

She stops infront of a mirror to fix her hair and tug the giant white shirt she's wearing further down even though that wasn't going to fix anything. She looks for her own clothes around the house before she ends up pulling it out from under his sofa. How did that even get there? I don't think I want to find out.

She makes her way to the kitchen, the cool marble flooring against her feet waking her up almost instantaneously.

The morning starts with her on call with her manager, arranging her private jet to leave as soon as possible while she raids lando's fridge in hopes of food. I guess a kinder egg still counts?

Chomping into the chocolate she quietly (but quickly) gathers her things and leaves his appartment, praying she doesn't get spotted by any paparazzi. If there's one thing she learnt the hard way it's that boys are no good.

liked by paiselysterling, sabrinacarpenter, and 162,988,970 others

lizcolton thank you for all the love on my newest single! number 1 on charts and 1 million streams the first week of it's release!? you guys are all INSANE but I love you for that.

@ lizzerator mother says we're insane but proceeds to write the lyric "Kisses to my exes, I know that I did you dirty Little messed up, little selfish, we ain't married, I ain't thirty Yeah, we hooked up, then we broke up, then I said you really hurt me But I still got your number and your necklace, kisses to my exes"

*liked by lizcolton*

@ lizcoltonlover OH IM SORRY, SORRY THAT YOU LOVE ME CHANGE MY MIND UP LIKE IT'S ORIGAMI?!!??!?!??!?! MOTHER WHAT IS THIS!?!?!?!?!?!?!

@ lizcolton @ lizcoltonlover a slay I hope

@ paiselysterling YOUR HONOR SHE ATEEEE

@ paiselysterling I'm so proud of you my love <3

@ lizcolton love you, pails <3

@ lizcoltonhq mother is mothering 😍

@ lizislife HELP WHO'S THE ADMIN HERE @ lizcolton @ lizislife beats me 🤷‍♀️ but you're getting a promotion that's for sure @ lizcoltonhq @ lizcolton thanks mother!

@ lewishamilton loved it! wished you didn't ditch us at the party yesterday night tho.

@ lizzerator @ lewishamilton what. explain!? right now!? @ formula1fanatic LIZ COLTON!!!! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF @ lizcolton @ lewishamilton damn it's so weird howw you STOPPED SPEAKING after "love it!" @ lewishamilton @ lizcolton my bad.

liked by lizcoltonhq and 24,678 others

@lizzerator clips from the "kisses to my exes" music video.

@ user she ate and she KNOWS

@ user that running clip was definetly a reference to euphoria omg

@ user she looks stunning

@ user liz I lovee you

@ user HAVE MY BABY RAAAAAAAA

@ user whoa, take a chill pill babe.

@ user GUYS GUYS GUYS she has black hair in the video meaning she filmed this LONG BACK OMG

@ user girl has been KEEPING the tea from us

liked by lizcoltonhq and 56,984 others

@lizzerator stills from the "kisses to my exes" music video.

@ user gorgeous.

view comments

@THEHOLLYWOODFIX • 3 minutes ago

Pop Sensation Liz Colton Spotted in London as She Prepares for Her Comeback — Are We in Store for a Fresh Batch of Heartbreak Music?

In a city known for its celebrity sightings, pop singer Liz Colton has been spotted leaving her recording studio in London, fueling speculation that the singer is gearing up for her long awaited return to the music scene. Colton made headlines when she released her single "Kisses to my Exes" which took direct aim at her former partner, actor Jacob Elordi. The track hit number one on the charts and garnered over a million streams in its first week alone.

With such an explosive release under her belt, fans are anxiously awaiting what's next from the talented songwriter. Could the songstress be gearing up for a full-blown comeback? After such a long break from the music scene, it's sure to be exciting to see what direction she takes this time around. Stay tuned for more on Liz Colton and her highly anticipated comeback music.

here's some pictures provided by the paparazzi team here at the hollywood fix.

lizcolton

seen by 8,37,870,299 people

#make me stay #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 driver x reader #sukisheadlights #formula 1 #lando norris imagine

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cas-skz · 1 year

Text

Reunite

Yunho x FEM!reader

| non-idol au | ex to lovers | smut/romance | 18+!!!

A end of summer get away brought you let friend group together for a weekend away at a beach house. While you’re still on good terms with your ex Yunho, the spark you felt for him never left.

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, possible water (sinking) trigger

[writers note]

I have a mild (jk it’s severe) case of delulu related gif now & needed a Yunho fic that was adorable but kinda tense since there’s gonna be more parts. Heheh

Enjoy!!!

cas xx

Somehow summer was already coming to an end. Your friends shared plans for when they get back to university, jobs they were working. It made your heart happy to be back with your high-school friend group, even if your ex was there.

Your eyes zoned out as you watched the bonfire burn, music from the rented beach house filled the yard. Everyone had most ly scattered to swim or drink in the house, but you wanted to sit and take in the moment.

“You look lonely.”

His voice was still so familiar to you, the deep but sweet tone you’d spent hours talking to. A cold can gently hit your shoulder and you glanced up at Yunho offering your favourite alcoholic drink.

He cracked it open with one finger as you took it into your hand, “Thanks.” You smiled softly, directing your eyes back to the fire as he took a seat on the log next to you.

“You still have a tendency to wander off on your own, huh?” He chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “How’ve you been?”

“Okay, I guess.” You shrugged, taking a long drink. “How about you?”

Even after being broken up for almost 3 years, Yunho still brought you warmth and comfort whenever he was near. You didn’t dare to admit you still had feelings for him after all this time.

“Pretty good. I start a internship in New York in a couple of weeks.”

“You always wanted to go to New York. Congrats.”

His eyes flashed over to you, making your heart skip a beat. “I wanted to go to New York with you.” He paused, taking a drink before looking towards the ground. “Just kinda feels weird going alone.”

Your eyes stayed on him for a moment, scanning his features, his hands and arms. Yunho had gotten more and more attractive over the years,

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing. You’ve wanted this since high-school.”

The conversation went on for a while and everyone had headed inside while the two of you watched the fire slowly die down.

You remembered exactly why you fell in love with him. The way he told stories, but couldn’t help but laugh half way through. His smile, your favourite thing about him. You especially loved how he always checked to make sure you were okay as you continued to drink together.

Yunho had disappeared into the house to change clothes while you walked towards the late, eyes locked on the millions of stars in the sky. The moon reflecting off the water make everything look picture perfect.

Your mind drifted as you stripped to your underwear and bra, the drunken buzz made your body feel electric. You slowly walked into the water, letting your hands drag along the surface. When your feet couldn’t find ground anymore, you took a deep breath and sunk under the water.

The splash in the water shook you back to reality and almost immediately after you felt strong arms pulling you to the surface.

You gasped for air as you broke through the top of the water, Yunho immediately grabbed onto you in a panic. “What are you doing?!”

“I just…” your voice trailed as you looked at him. You weren’t actually sure why you had gone into the water, but it wasn’t with ill intentions. “I’m sorry…”

His hands were cupped around your jawline as your bodies floated in the water and you could feel your heart racing as you bobbed closer and closer to each other. Before you could say another word, his lips crashed into yours, sending chills through your body as he kissed you passionately.

Your emotions over came you as tears started to fall. You had been aching for him for so long that you couldn’t hold yourself back as you roughened the kiss.

Yunho followed your lead, pulling your core into his as he started to swim back towards the shore, sharing hot and heavy kisses as he did.

As you got to the shore, Yunho picked you up bridal style to carry you back towards the fire, now glowing embers that still radiated heat. A blanked laid out next to it is where you landed, lips still stuck to his as he hovered his body over yours.

You pulled him into you, muffling a soft moan as you felt his erection rub against your already throbbing clit. “Yuyu..” you gasped quietly as his hips grinder into yours.

Yunho’s lips travelled to your neck, sucking on your sweet spots that he remembered after all your time apart. His breath was hot and heavy in your ear, “I miss you so much,” he whined, moaning softly as his hips picked up speed.

“I need you.” You said shyly, reaching down to push down his sweat pants, allowing his stiff cock to rub against your clothed pussy.

It felt like you were melting from how aroused you had gotten, your mind already going blank as he pushed your panties aside and quickly found your entrance, teasing it before sliding inside.

Your nails dug into his back as he stretched you out, inching slowly inside before bottoming out and making you cum instantly.

You pulled his lips back to yours, breathing him in as your bodies became one under the moonlight. Time felt still as you spent the next hour or so tangled around each other, finally moving into a near by tent setup outside.

Yunho’s hands ran slowly up your back and sides as you laid on him, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. If you could pause time for a while, you’d do it. Having him so close again felt so right, but it also torn you apart knowing he’d be gone again after the weekend.

“Y/N?”

“Yea?” Your looked up at him, a soft smile spread across his lips as your eyes met.

“Come to New York with me.”

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rinanextdoor · 3 months

Text

the art of love - han (taesan) dongmin

in which you were gifted with han dongmin, but maybe not all gifts are good.

pairing: taesan x firstlove!reader

wordcount: 1925

genre(s): fluff, angst, no comfort, high school au, first!love au

warning(s): sad ending, taesan’s kind of an ass towards the end, might be a bit messy and rushed because i was rushing to finish this at 2 am (but it’s finally done!!)

note: it is heavily inspired by this and i guess you could say it’s a prequel?

if someone told you 2 years ago that you and dongmin would break up by the time you finished high school, you would have laughed in their face.

because for the past 2 years, you have been in love with han dongmin.

you fell in love with him before he dyed his hair, before he started to care about the way people perceived him, before he became taesan.

you didn’t know where it all went wrong. it felt just like yesterday when dongmin asked to be your boyfriend. of course you said yes – he meant the world to you, he meant the world to you for the past two years. but now you knew he didn’t feel the same.

maybe you should’ve held him tighter or maybe you should’ve told him you loved him more often. maybe if you tried harder she wouldn’t have been able to come in and take his heart so easily.

it was the last period of your first day and you came to class a few minutes early. your first day was going extremely well : none of your teachers drew unnecessary attention to you and none of your classmates seemed to care that there was a new face.

being the first one to class gave you the honor of first picks on seats. you were contemplating between the window seat at the very back or the seat closest to the back door. you opted for the first option, wanting to look out the window to distract yourself during class.

soon enough the bell rang and students flooded the doorway, the once empty seats filling up quickly. you heard the chair next to you being pulled out, a tall boy with black hair now occupying the seat. he had headphones on – a very obvious sign that he did not want to be bothered – so you kept to yourself.

that’s how it went for the next couple of weeks : you would be the first to class, sit at your unassigned assigned seat, and not talk the whole entire class – your seatmate doing the same ; it was some sort of silent agreement.

it wasn’t until your teacher assigned a project that you finally spoke to each other. it was a partner project and both you and han dongmin (his name that you just learned) were the only two without a partner. inevitably, you guys had to work together.

okay maybe working with him wasn’t so bad. truthfully, you enjoyed the time you guys spent working together.

you were intimidated at first, but dongmin showed you that he was a chill person. he made you laugh — even if it was stupid — and he would even treat you to food sometimes.

you didn’t want to admit it but you were disappointed when you finally submitted your project. you guys passed with an amazing grade but the time you and dongmin spent together was now over.

until he asked you out on a date.

saying you were ecstatic was an understatement. you were a bit surprised at first, doubting that he reciprocated the feelings you had for him. yet here you stood, trying on multiple different outfits.

you never would have thought that you would end up in this situation. but he wasn’t just any guy, it was han dongmin : your quiet classmate who ended up asking you out.

finally deciding on a dress, you touched up on your makeup and hair ; wanting to look your absolute best just for him. it was exactly 7:30 when he texted you that he was outside.

upon seeing you, his face went blank, like he was concentrating. you were scared — did he not like your dress? was your makeup messed up?

“you look gorgeous.” he finally said, your cheeks warming up.

“t-thanks.. you look handsome yourself.” smiling at your timid response, dongmin began driving.

million of thoughts raced through your mind. you were nervous to say the least, it was your first date. dongmin was the first guy to make you feel some sort of way and you didn’t want to scare him away.

he seemed to take notice of your nerves, striking up a conversation. “did you know that there’s a phobia for long words? it’s called hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.” silence overtook the two of you and he swore he was about to kill himself.

your quiet giggles quickly filled the car, a smile crawling onto his face. the random fact seemed to ease your mind because you finally opened up, ranting about yourself.

the rest of the night went by in a breeze : he took you to a restaurant on the beach, your table facing the ocean.

your conversations flowed smoothly — you learned that he loved music and that his friends called him ‘giant mountain.’ you learned who his favorite artist was and that he was born on august 10.

on the ride back, he reached over the console and held your hand. you were caught off guard at first, but you slowly eased up. you were just hoping that your hand wasn’t sweaty.

“thank you for tonight.” you slowly looked at him, which you may have regretted. (no you didn’t)

when you locked eyes with him, it was like he was a different person. he looked at you longingly, like he wanted something. your suspicions were proven right when he slowly leant forward, sealing your lips together.

it has been 2 years since that day — the day of your first date — and since then, you guys have been dating. you guys went on exactly 2 more dates after the first. and on the third, he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. of course you said yes ; he made your heart swell, just hearing his name made you giddy.

your anniversary was coming up and for the past week you have been brainstorming songs to add to the mixtape you were making. you knew how much dongmin loved music, sometimes making his own songs, so you knew this was the perfect gift. you added songs he loved, songs that reminded you of him, and some of the songs that he produced — the mixtape ending up 4 hours long.

you were heading to the store to pick up some extra goodies for the gift, wanting this to be one of the best gifts he has ever recieved. on the way there you swore you saw dongmin, but the person moved too fast for you to actually confirm.

you saw the same figure a second time, and this time you were sure it was him. he had the same haircut and style that you grew to love.

you didn’t know whether to catch up with him or buy the gifts in secret. before you could even decide, a girl had approached him and engulfed him in a hug. you didn’t know the girl, you’ve never seen her around.

slowly approaching the two, dongmin took notice of you. immediately, he made his way over to you and pulled you into a hug, which you obviously reciprocated.

you looked at the girl, but she wasn’t looking at you ; she was looking at him expectantly. he seemed to catch on when he straightened up a bit. finally, he introduced you to her.

“yunhi, this is my girlfriend, y/n. and y/n, this is yunhi, we used to be friends in middle school.”

“nice to meet you!” you responded, offering her a smile. she didn’t seem to return it though, which made you feel uneasy. you didn’t want to be quick to judge, so you ignored it.

“i was just heading to get you some boba when i ran into her. we were thinking of catching up this weeked.” he explained, a smile adorning his face.

“oh that sounds like fun, i’ll try to free up some ti-”

she quickly interrupted you, clarifying that it was supposed to be just him and her.

“oh okay, sorry i must’ve misunderstood.” not feeling welcome, you told dongmin that you had errands to run and that you would text him later.

since that day, you started to notice the distance growing between you and dongmin ; how you went from talking everyday to barely being able to get a response to your text ; the date nights you and dongmin once had were replaced with restless ones.

there was an obvious answer, but you were praying that you were wrong and that everything would go back to how it used to be.

today was a very special day : the 2 year anniversary of your relationship. and for the past few days, you have been begging dongmin to go on a date. at first, you wanted to take him out to his favorite restaurant, but seeing the way he reacted, you opted for a night in.

you arrived at his house two hours ago and for the past two hours, it felt like you were invisible. for the past two hours you sat at the opposite end of the couch, watching as he smiled at his phone. it seemed like he was always on his phone yet you could never get a response to your text.

“dongmin.”

you called out once ; the sound of typing blocking your voice.

“dongmin.”

yet again, no response.

“dongmin!”

the boy finally looked up, confusion written all over his face.

“are you just gonna sit on your phone the whole time? i didn’t ask to come over just for you to ignore me.” you frowned.

“well i didn’t tell you to come over, you insisted to though.” your eyes widen in surprise.

“i shouldn’t have to insist! we haven’t had an actual conversation in days!”

“that’s not fair, you know i’ve been trying to help yunhi settle in.”

“i’m happy you are, i really am. but would it kill you to answer my texts once in a while? you’re always on your phone anyways!” you retorted, not quite processing his audacity.

silence overtook the both of you, a very uncomfortable silence. you wanted him to say something, to explain himself. but his quietness showed you that he couldn’t.

“do you even know what day it is?” he kept quiet, disappointing you. “it’s our anniversary.. but i guess you’re too busy with yunhi to remember. talk to me when you start seeing me as your girlfriend again.” you grabbed your belongings and left without saying another word.

as days of no contact soon turned into weeks, your desperation turned to hopelessness. you might have been a fool but you thought you and dongmin would have been able to survive the high school relationship cliche.

maybe you should’ve broke and talked to him first but seeing him with another girl seemed to stop you.

you saw him everyday (it’s not like you could avoid him) and he seemed to be doing much better than you were : he dyed his hair — you couldn’t lie and say he didn’t look good — and began going by taesan, which was way different than dongmin.

worst of all, you found out (through gossip) that he and yunhi started dating. you expected it honestly, but that didn’t stop a part of you to feel hurt and betrayed. he always told you she was a friend, and yet here they were.

love was a beautiful piece of art. but everyone knows beauty comes with pain and complexity. and unfortunately, maybe you and taesan weren’t ready for that. but regardless of the bad ending, you would always be grateful for han dongmin for being the first to show you the art of love.

( ©rinanextdoor on tumblr )

#kpop #kpop imagines #boynextdoor #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor taesan #boynextdoor oneshot #bnd #bnd x reader #bnd imagines #bnd oneshot #han dongmin #han dongmin imagines #han dongmin x reader #han dongmin oneshot #taesan #taesan imagines #taesan x reader #taesan oneshot

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aloneinthehellfire · 1 year

Text

Chapter 24: Hell Comes To Hawkins

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Word Count: 7170 words of i'm writing through blurry eyes cause i just realised this is the last chapter

Warnings: swearing, trauma, mentions of death, visions, guns, mentions of scars, lots of tears

[A/N: We did it. This is the last chapter of RH4... My mind is racing with a million grateful words. I just can't believe we've completed this series. I hope this chapter is somewhat satisfying and enough to possibly continue our story in the future <;3 ]

My Masterlist

Hell Comes To Hawkins

Two days later…

Taking a breath, you look down at the boxes you had packed, the sight almost identical to where you were last year. Except this time, you weren’t leaving.

There was so much unfinished business left in the town. Even if the news had claimed it was just an ‘earthquake’, that wouldn’t put an end to Vecna’s plan. You needed to be ready.

“Stop worrying so much.”

You turn back to where Max was shuffling through tapes, her smile bright as she sets them down and leans against the wall.

“I have every right to be worried.” You sigh, fussing with the jacket on a teddy bear you had long forgotten. “It isn’t over.”

“Maybe not.” Max shrugs, pursing her lips before an idea strikes her mind, eyes light. She straightens her posture, looking down at the boxes. “So… what if we just leave?”

“What?” You set down the soft toy in your hands and face her properly.

“It’s not like I’m going back to school any time soon.” Max continues, wandering around the room and making her way to the window, peering out. “We could just… go. You know, travel. Maybe start in LA or something.”

You take a deep breath, watching as your sister tenderly brushed her fingers against the glass before glancing back at you with a genuine smile.

“That sounds perfect.” You smile at the idea, fiddling with the ring on your hand.

“Yeah!” She nods, coming closer to you, “We wouldn’t be gone that long, just like a vacation or something. I mean, we deserve it, right?”

“Yeah…” Your voice trails as your smile begins to falter, but Max is oblivious to your emotional change, shaking her head in glee.

“We could go to Europe!” She suggests before frowning. “No, that’s too far. Maybe we just stick with America and don’t go too crazy.”

“Max.” You say softly and she turns to you, eyes wide in anticipation. You sigh, slumping your shoulders. “We can’t.”

“If you’re worried about leaving everyone, don’t.” Max steps forward, looking up to you in admiration. “You literally just risked your life- died- for all of them. If you think for another second you still owe them something then you are genuinely crazy.”

“I guess I gave them hell, huh?” You attempt a joke, but your heart was far from in it. Max chuckles at your words, nodding.

“Yeah, you did.” She grins, before suddenly raising her eyebrows. “So… vacation? And don’t claim we have no money because I’ve been keeping those jars safe for you for almost a year and they’re heavy.”

“Max…”

“No, we need this.” She states, frowning, “We need to get out of this town and just let go of the past. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve to be together for once. A family.”

“I want that more than anything.” You assure, teary eyed. Your hand wanders to stroke her hair before you let it fall back by your side. “But we can’t.”

Max’s brows furrow as she stares up at you with her blue eyes, searching your face for some kind of answer. “Why not?”

A tear slips down your cheek as you close your eyes, heart wrenching.

“Because you’re not real.”

Once you open your eyes again, you’re left standing in the middle of your room. Alone.

Wiping away your tear with a shaky breath, you stack a few light boxes and make your way out of your room and down the stairs.

Even your hallucination of Max was right. You needed to stop holding on to the past before it shattered you completely.

As you slide another box into your trunk, you let out a sigh, mindlessly fiddling with the ring on your right hand. Anything to distract yourself.

There was a slight tremor in your fingers, but you noted that as an effect of sleep deprivation.

You and Lucas had been at the hospital, taking shifts whenever the nurses kicked you out for staying too long. Neither of you wanted Max to be alone.

You didn’t know how, but she had survived. Even knowing her heart was still beating, it still broke you to look at her so fragile, covered in casts. Whenever you weren’t by her side, your brain had mustered up some kind of illusion of her to cope with the pain. It wasn’t healthy, not by a long shot, and you hadn’t told anyone about it. You just wanted your sister back.

They don’t even know if she can wake up from the coma.

But it was a second chance. And you would find a way to bring her back. No matter how many times you had to will the Mind Flayer’s presence to you and plead it to bring Max back the way it did you and Eddie. You weren’t giving up.

“Someone order pizza?” Karen asks, but you pay no mind. You slot another box into the trunk before there’s a tap on your shoulder.

You turn, frowning in confusion when Nancy points to the van approaching in the distance.

Squinting your eyes, you notice the pizza sign, eyes widening.

They had finally returned from California.

You all gather in the driveway, eagerly waiting for the vehicle to stop. When everyone steps out of the van, you can’t help the grin that spreads onto on your face.

El immediately catches sight of you and you move towards her, catching her in a hug.

Everyone celebrates in embraces around you, the reunion long overdue. You all deserved this; to be together again. You needed this.

You kiss El’s forehead, overcome with joy as she tenderly touches your face.

“Hey.” You laugh and she giggles.

“Hi.” She beams at you and you hold her again.

It had been so long since you had seen El, much less heard her voice, that it brought a tear to your eye. When you and the others lost communication to California, your mind constantly brought up the worst scenarios. You were just grateful she was okay.

“I’m so sorry.” She mumbles into your hair and you frown, stepping back.

“For what?” You ask, before focusing on her, holding her back at arm’s length. “Wait, what happened to your hair?”

Her eyes fall to your chest, noticing the scar lines that begun just above your shirt. “What happened to you?”

“Vecna.” You say and she frowns. “Oh, right. Uh… Henry Creel. One?”

Her face drops before crashing back into you, arms wrapped around your torso. “He killed Max.”

It was barely a whisper but you heard it, letting out a shaky breath. “She’s alive.”

El looks up at you with teary eyes.

“She’s at the hospital.” You nod and she looks over to Will. “You should go see her.”

“Are you coming?” She asks and you tighten your lips, glancing over to where Steve and Robin stood.

“I have to drop of some boxes in my car.” You say with a sigh, stroking her hair. “But I can come get you later?”

She nods, “I want to go to the cabin.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at the hospital, yeah?” You promise and she smiles.

El catches Dustin waiting and runs over to him, pulling the slightly injured boy into a hug.

You watch as everyone talks, the teary greetings and happiness. You wished it wasn’t because you were all imagining the worst had happened to eachother.

“Y/n?”

You turn to the voice before your eyes widen in glee, immediately jumping at the boy as he laughs, catching you and spinning you around.

“Shit!” You grin, pushing his shoulder. “Couldn’t pick up a damn phone?”

“Couldn’t stay out of trouble?” Jonathan retorts and you raise your hands in surrender. He laughs before his face slowly falls, struggling to hide an expression you knew as sympathy.

“I’m guessing Nancy told you?” You ask quietly and he nods, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry.” He says and you nod, willing the tears away.

“What happened with you?” You question, glancing around. “And where’s Joyce?”

“I…” He takes a breath before frowning. “I have no idea. She went on a business trip and I’ve been calling her but... no answer.”

“I’m sure she’s okay.” You comfort, rubbing his shoulder. “I mean, it’s Joyce. She’s pretty badass.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan chuckles before noticing something behind you. “Oh hey, man, come meet Y/n.”

You raise an eyebrow, turning around to see a boy stood there shyly. His long hair fell on top of brightly coloured clothing, sporting a pizza chain shirt and you smile.

“You must be Argyle.” You greet and he smiles, nodding. “Jonathan talked about you a lot on the phone.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t have any other friends.” Argyle chuckles, extending his hand and you take it with a small laugh, “Jonathan talked about you a lot. Oh, and Nancy. Like, a lot, dude.”

“Oh, yeah, did he do that thing where he pretends it’s the end of the world when in reality all he needed to do was talk to her?”

You send your friend a knowing look and Argyle laughs, nodding.

“Yeah, dudette, he’s so stressed it’s stressing me out.”

“Same! And she’s not even my girlfriend.” You comment and his eyes widen in happy surprise, elbowing Jonathan.

When you shrug, Argyle steps next to you, hand on your shoulder. “I like your sober friend, here.”

“And I like your mellowed out friend.” You nod approvingly.

“Okay, okay.” Jonathan intercepts, pushing you both apart. “I thought this was a good idea but it looks like you’re gonna bond and use it against me.”

“How’d you know?” Argyle widens his eyes and you smile. “Hey, if you ever want some palm tree delight, you just gotta come find me.”

“Noted.” You grin as he walks away, stepping back into his van. “I think I just met my new best friend.”

Jonathan playfully shoves your shoulder. “Hey, get your own.”

“I seriously missed you.” You smile, “I feel like it’s been years since we got to just... hang out, together.”

“I missed you, too.” Jonathan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But we’re here now, right? To stay?”

“I haven’t got anywhere else to be.” You reassure and he lets out a relieved sigh, ruffling your hair as you laugh.

“Good.”

“Uh, can you take the kids to the hospital?” You ask and when his eyes widen, you sigh. “I’ll meet up with you guys later, I just- I need to get these boxes to the high school but I promised El I’d drive her up to Hopper’s cabin.”

“We’ll meet you there.” He agrees.

Steve and Robin call you over and you take a breath, moving to your packed car and slipping into the driver’s side, Dustin already waiting in the passenger seat.

You stayed and volunteered with the others, thinking you could at least do some good while waiting to pick up El from the hospital.

Setting down a kid’s shirt, you raise your head to see Robin chatting away with a girl across the room, making quick work of spreading bread. The way she was smiling, her eyes lighting up… you knew the ginger girl next to her had to be Vickie, her smile just as wide.

Beside you, you notice the proud look Steve bore as he shook his head with delight.

“That’s adorable.” You comment and he looks at you, smirking.

“Yeah, well, she deserves it.” Steve says, folding up a shirt.

As you place another item of clothing on the folded pile, you found yourself disassociating, everything feeling off. Around you, people were reeling from the ‘earthquake’, some homeless, others volunteering, not a single one of them knowing the truth behind the disaster. Why were you stood here folding clothes when Vecna was plotting his next attack? How many more scars would you obtain next time? What nightmare will keep you awake again and again until the next-

“Hello?” Steve waves his hand in front of your eyes and you snap back into reality, a nervous chuckle on his lips. “You okay? Just, uh, just lost you there.”

“Hm?” You inhale a breath, shaking your head. The flicker of a burning memory fades from your mind, images of Vecna’s claws covered in your blood vanished. “Oh, right, yeah, I’m fine.”

Steve sends you a sceptical look and you laugh, gently nudging his arm.

“Seriously, I’m fine.” You offer him a quick smile before leaning over the table and snatching clothing from the messy pile in front of him. “Now come on, clothes don’t fold themselves.”

“Jesus, could you imagine having to do this every day of your life?” Steve chuckles, the neatly folded t-shirt between his hands set down beside him. You could tell he was only trying to make you feel comfortable, but you enjoyed the distraction. “Surely no one can have this many clothes.”

You raise your eyebrow with a smirk. “Aren’t you the guy that wants, like, a dozen kids?”

“How do you know that?” Steve frowns, pausing his hands, “And no, not a dozen.”

“You told me years ago.” You explain with a smile. “Yeah, I remember we were out at Skull Rock and this couple goes by with a kid- you ended up complaining that they were ‘tarnishing’ your hard work or something like that- then you said something else about wanting kids and when I asked for a number, you said 12.”

You finish with a little nod of content and, when Steve doesn’t reply, you glance over at him to see he’s looking at you with an expression that made your heart melt.

“What?” You giggle, sorting out clothes. You figured you should at least separate them from shirts and pants.

“I just… I can’t believe you remembered that.” Steve shook his head, returning back to the task at hand with a smile on his face.

“I have a great memory.” You comment with a shrug, noticing a baby-grow in the pile. You tentatively reach out and hold it out in front of you. You remembered when Max was that small.

“What about you?” Steve questions, clearing his throat when you raise your eyebrow. “Kids, I mean. Do you think you’d ever have kids?”

“Someday.” You smile, gently stroking the fabric. “You know, after getting a house and a job. I… I always wanted a big family.”

Steve’s focus on separating clothes had vanished now, solely focused on you. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just hate the idea of being in an empty house, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Steve smiles, holding your gaze. For a moment, everything felt like it was falling into place, pieces of a puzzle that for so long you thought never fit.

When you realise the silence, you turn back to the table, clearing your throat. “But, uh, that’s gotta wait until I’ve wasted all my money on travelling.”

“Still the plan, huh?” Steve chuckles knowingly, returning to the task but glancing over at you with creased eyes.

“Yeah, absolutely. I want to go everywhere.” You laugh, folding up the grow and placing it on the table next to you. “The entire world if I can. Max and I always said…”

Your voice drifts, the white shirt striped with colours paused between your hands.

“We always said that we’d build our own home somewhere new, no matter how far.” You finish, your voice barely a whisper as a sob is caught in your throat.

“I-” Steve starts but you clear your throat.

“It’s fine.” You dismiss, letting out a breathy laugh, “Here I am talking about kids and travelling when I can barely take care of the six I already got.”

He sets down a blue shirt and looks to you, startled. “That’s not true.”

“Why are we pretending, Steve?” You suddenly ask, brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” He frowns, lowering his voice to a whisper, aware of the residents currently wandering around him.

“Why are we all pretending that it’s all fine?” You start, controlling the tears threatening to spill.

“Vecna won. Max is in a coma. Eddie-” You take a breath, gnawing at your bottom lip. “And- and what? We’re meant to just carry on and pretend like it was all an earthquake? It’s been two days.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Steve grabs your shoulders, rubbing the space of your upper arm. “Look at me. We all know it’s not okay. We know. We- we’re just trying to get through it.”

“By ignoring it?” You stare up at him, brows furrowed. “Look at the past four years of our life, Steve. Where has ignoring it ever gotten us before?”

As Steve searches for an answer, your eyes drift to the clock on the wall, the minutes ticked by so quickly that you realised you had other plans.

“I need to get to the hospital.” You suddenly announce, quickly shuffling around clothes and grabbing your keys from your pocket. “I’m meant to be taking El up to the cabin and meeting everyone which will probably end up being too late because Hop’s cabin must be in shambles right now, and I don’t want to be there too late ‘cause it’s my shift at the hospital next and I really-”

“Woah, okay, okay.” Steve interrupts you and you take a breath, running a hand through your hair. He dips his head down to meet your eyes, catching your hands. “You need company?”

You smile at his offer, to know that he never wanted you to feel like you had to do anything alone. And, just as you automatically went to blurt out a ‘no’, you stopped yourself.

You didn’t have to be alone anymore.

Because you were never alone.

“Could you…” You begin, pushing away the part of you that made you feel like a burden. “Maybe come with me to the hospital later? To see Max.”

Steve raises your hands in his to his lips, gently kissing them before releasing you and nodding. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” You smile, sighing. “Don’t have too much fun sorting clothes without me.”

“Couldn’t possibly have fun without you here.” He retorts with a grin, watching as you walked towards the entrance, keys in hand.

As the doors come into view, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. A man was pinning a ‘missing’ poster to the bulletin board, a worried frown on his face. Your breath hitches.

A hand rests on your shoulder and you jump slightly, meeting Dustin’s tired eyes. “Hey. Sorry.”

“No, no. I’m just… on edge.” You admit, smiling down at him. He notices who you were looking at, your fingers mindlessly twiddling the ring on your right hand.

“I’ve got this.” Dustin says, nodding towards him.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” He assures and you let a breath out, planting a kiss on his head.

“Okay.” You nod slowly, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later.”

Dustin simply smiles before walking over to the bulletin board, his limp still prominent in his stride. It had gotten worse the more tired he got. Max wasn’t the only person you were visiting in the hospital.

Eddie was kept under observation after his wounds were checked out. The doctors had stated that there wasn’t an infection, but something was effecting his blood pressure. You and Dustin had been visiting ever since then, bringing different games and magazines to help him cope with staying in bed. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had noticed how his complexion had been paler each time you saw him. The doctors ensured everything was fine, but you felt like they weren’t telling you something.

And, when they deemed him fit to leave after those two nights, they hadn’t officially released him. No, you had to beg and cry as you watched men escort him from the building, almost ending up detained from your efforts.

And, in the total chaos and despair you were feeling, no one had the chance to track down Wayne and tell him where his nephew was, much less inform him that the kid he raised was under arrest for murder and he wouldn’t be able to see him ever again. Part of you was just grateful Dustin would be the one to explain; you weren’t sure you could bear that look on Wayne’s face when it was your fault Eddie was ever involved to begin with.

Especially since you weren’t at all convinced Eddie was arrested for murder.

Hours before...

“Knock, knock.”

You poke your head around the door with a smile, Eddie’s amused face staring back.

“You know, there’s this crazy thing where if you tap the door, it’ll make that sound for you.” He chuckles and you enter the room.

“I had no hands, dumbass.” You laugh with him, collapsing the stacks of entertainment on the table beside him. “Anyone who says that out of pure delight and not convenience scares me.”

“Agreed.” Eddie nods with a smile. You notice his pale skin hadn’t changed, bags under his eyes a little worrying. But he was up, and he was smiling.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, perching on the side of his hospital bed. The white sheets had been bunched up to allow his bandaged legs to be free from the suffocation of the material.

“Like I’m never gonna find a better drug than this thing.” He laughs, tapping the morphine drip beside him. “But other than that, I’m ready to go.”

“And your legs?” You pester further, just to be safe.

“Well…” Eddie sighs, leaning into you and tightening his lips. “They say I may never dance again, coach.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, unable to resist a smile.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Eddie finally assures, shrugging. “I’m not gonna be ready for bikini season anytime soon but I’ll live.”

“Good.” You say and he smiles. You let out a brief laugh. “No one should have to see you in a bikini.”

“Asshole.” Eddie shoves your shoulder lightly just as another head pokes around the corner of his hospital room.

“Knock, knock.” Dustin grins before entering the room, clapping his hands.

Turning your head, you see Eddie is stifling a laugh, ultimately releasing it once he caught your eye. Dustin giggles, walking up to the bed while shaking his head.

“Why are we laughing?” He asks, still giggling along nervously.

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie dismisses, waving his hand.

Dustin shifts his gaze between you both before rolling his eyes and suddenly shimmying his shoulders, wagging his eyebrows. It was a recent replacement from his excited little hops he would always do, his ankle temporarily unfit for the movement.

Eddie sends you a look before stretching his arms. “Let me guess… you know something.”

“I do.” Dustin grins, continuing his little dance.

“Is it good?” Eddie raises an eyebrow, Dustin nodding enthusiastically.

“Really good.”

“Please for the love of god, spit it out.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head.

“Okay.” Dustin carefully drags the chair behind him until it’s almost touching the bed, leaning close. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I overheard some doctors talking and…”

“And?” Eddie pesters impatiently when Dustin’s voice trails off.

“You may or may not be getting released today.” Dustin spits out quickly, almost squealing in delight.

Eddie’s eyes widen, a smile teasing his lips. “Well.”

“Well?” Dustin frowns, “That’s your reaction. Well?”

“Sorry if I don’t do a little song and dance about it.” Eddie makes a face similar to one a sibling would do when mocking the other.

“Yeah, his coach won’t allow it.” You laugh, earning an eye roll, and you stand from the bed to place your hands on your hips. “Damn, so I brought those comics over for nothing.”

“Gra-” Both boys start but you let out a groan.

“Graphic novels, sorry.” You correct just as a woman dressed in a long white coat enters the room, smiling.

“Hey, guys.” She nods to you both, hands in pockets, before she stands at the foot of Eddie’s bed. “Eddie, how we feeling?”

“Pretty god damn great.” Eddie nods.

“Wonderful.” The woman grins, sending both you and Dustin another excited smile.

For a moment, an unsettling feeling buries a home in your stomach. Of all the doctors you had met and talked with over the past two days, you didn’t remember any quite as cheerful as her.

“We need to do one last test but…” She holds for dramatic effect before leaning back slightly. “You’ll be free to go in a matter of minutes!”

Eddie tries his hardest to seem surprised, smiling something forced. “Great.”

“Huh.” The woman tilts her head. “I would have thought you’d be happier.”

“Oh, believe me, I am. I just, uh…” Eddie fiddled with the sheets between his fingers. “May have overheard, that’s all.”

“Well, darn.” She laughs, her voice reminding you of the way teachers would talk to kindergarten children. “What matters is that you’re all better.”

“Are you sure?” You blurt before you could stop yourself and Eddie looks to you.

“Come on, I’m like this close to freedom.” He whispers loudly to you.

“Well,” The woman barely glances at you before refocusing on Eddie. “Like I said, just one more test and we can confirm. I’ll need you to sign some release forms if everything comes back clear, which I know it will, and you can finally leave.”

On cue, the sound of squeaky wheels turn their way into the area, operated by a man in a matching coat. The woman turns with a smile, nodding to where the cart should be placed. If you weren’t staring so intently, you wouldn’t have caught on to the way her expression changed for a split second, or how she slipped her hands from her pockets and brought them behind her.

“Oh, we’re doing these now?” Eddie questions, sitting up straight. He clocks the needle laying on the metal tray now beside him, gulping. He hated needles.

“If you want to be out of here quick.” The woman winks kindly, nodding. Her eyes wander to Dustin still perched by Eddie’s bed. “I’m afraid we don’t allow any visitors while we run tests.”

“We’ve been allowed to sit through the others.” You say when Dustin’s face fell, stepping forward. She turns to you, still smiling softly.

“It makes it easier for us if we don’t have any distractions.” She explains with a shrug. This close, you can see how her eyes don’t have the same calming effect as her voice.

“We’ll be as quiet as a mouse.” You challenge, keeping your own voice sweet in its inflections.

“Uh…” Eddie’s eyes shift between you both, a look of curiosity at the way you were acting. But he trusted you. “I would feel better to have them here. Especially if we’re checking the old blood pressure again, that shi- uh, stuff’s gonna be nice and calm with them around.”

A single twitch in the woman’s eye before she lowered her head. Your eyes flicker to Dustin, his face warped in confusion as he sends a look back. The woman had closed her eyes taking a deep breath, the man behind the cart still and posture straight, like he was awaiting orders. The whole situation sent a chill down your spine, goosebumps along your skin. Your stomach dropped.

Ever since you made that final connection to the Mind Flayer, it had somehow heightened your senses of danger. It wasn’t just when there was a gate nearby, or when Vecna was practically breathing down your neck. No, it alerted you to everyday danger that didn’t even include alternate dimension monsters.

And right now, it was screaming bloody murder at you.

“Can you just do the test later?” You quickly ask, and the woman perks her head in interest. “You see, Eddie’s pretty tired and was just telling us how he needed more rest.”

There was a tone in your voice that had Eddie nodding. “Yeah, she’s right. Feeling like a nap, so… reschedule?”

A deep breath inhaled through her lips as she raised her head fully, glancing at the man in the white coat.

“I’m afraid that’s just not possible.”

In one swift motion, the man plunged a needle into Eddie’s neck, the boy crying out before falling flat against his pillow.

Dustin jumped from his seat, wincing when he landed heavy on his ankle, and began yelling out questions. His startled eyes find yours before his whole body stills in fear.

Because there was a gun pointed directly at your head.

“Stay calm, no one has to get hurt.” A low voice announced as a man in uniform steps from behind the door, several other men flanking him.

“You just stuck a needle in Eddie.” Dustin points out and the man clears his throat.

“My name is Lieutenant Colonel Sullivan. I am here to ensure the safety of Hawkins and to reprimand those a threat.” He says, removing his sunglasses and handing them to another uniformed officer behind him. He glances over at you, and then to your hand. “I suggest you drop your weapon, Miss Mayfield.”

Your heart jumps. How did he know your name?

After a moment of consideration- there were too many men for you to successfully fight your way out of here- you slowly extend your arm and drop the scalpel back on the metal tray, the contact echoing a shrill clatter.

“What do you want?” You spit out, eyeing the gun by your head. Sullivan gives a quick nod and the cool pressure of the handgun is released from you.

“We’re here for Mr Munson.” He briefly says before motioning his officers to the boy led unconscious. They start to move towards him.

“Woah, hey!” Dustin protests, feeling helpless.

“You’re not taking him anywhere!” You block their path, but one of them simply grabs you from behind and locks your arms against your back.

You bring your head back, fast, and manage to make contact with a nose, a shatter of bone crunching behind you. The hold is released and you’re reaching for the scalpel again. You don’t make it very far.

“Make one more move, Miss Mayfield, and I will be forced to make a very unnecessary command.” Sullivan states calmly.

All guns were pointed at you and you had no choice but to freeze. You weren’t any good to Eddie if you were dead.

“How do you know my name?” You question finally, still the target of unreleased bullets.

“We know everything about you, Miss Mayfield.” Sullivan’s voice barely held any kind of emotion, but there was something in his eye that told you he knew more than he was letting on. “November of '79, in particular.”

You gulped, avoiding his eyes. Dustin sent an inquisitive look but remained silent. Some things were better left unsaid.

“You can’t take him.” You whisper, eyes misting over. “We already talked with the police, they’re reinvestigating-”

“We are aware.” Sullivan interrupts, stepping closer. “But we also aren’t asking permission. Mr Munson is coming with us to deal with his crimes.”

“He didn’t do anything!” You cry as officers release the wheel brakes on Eddie’s bed and start to pull him away. “Tell me where you’re taking him!”

Just before Sullivan turned to follow his men out of the room, he collects his glasses and places them back on his face. “That’s classified.”

One by one, the men threatening you lower their guns and follow their Lt. Colonel, ensuring you didn’t follow. They left you and Dustin alone in the room, still trying to understand what had occurred in a matter of seconds.

“What the fuck just happened?” Dustin stumbles forward, shaking his head. He looks up at you. “Y/n, what happened?”

“I don’t…” You furrow your brows, instinctively reaching for the ring on your right hand. You stare down at it. You were meant to have returned it when he was released. And now that would never happen.

“What do we do?!” Dustin cries and you bite your cheek. “Y/n, what-”

“I don’t know!” You yell in a sob, dropping your hands and pacing. “Okay, Dustin, I don’t- I’m sorry, I just…”

You take a deep breath and Dustin is already catching you in his arms. You reach out until you’re both enveloped in a hug, holding eachother.

The first time you lost Eddie, you had mourned his death and sacrificed your energy to try and make things right.

The second time you lost Eddie, you had held Dustin in the empty hospital room until Steve eventually found you both, escorting you out and asking enough questions to make your brain hurt.

But not before you and Dustin had an hour to vow that you weren’t losing Eddie a second time.

Just as you pull up to the hospital, you see the others patiently waiting outside.

Jonathan and Nancy were resting against his car, chatting away, until he clocked your car heading towards them, giving a quick wave and motioning to El that you had arrived.

She smiles at you when opening the door, sitting in the passenger seat and opening her mouth to speak just as the back doors open, cutting her off just as Mike and Will slip in behind you.

Your frown is met with a simple look from Mike.

“We were with our siblings for ten minutes and almost went insane.” He explains and you chuckle, turning the ignition.

You knew that wasn’t why. After seeing Max, and finding out about Eddie’s disappearance, they must have known how you would be feeling. Because that’s the thing about this family that you found… you looked out for eachother.

“So... what happened in California?” You ask, filling the silence, and you notice the exchange of glances in the mirror.

“Don’t freak out like Jonathan and Nancy did.” Will pleads and you raise your eyebrows, clearing your throat while turning a corner, trying not to look at the vine covered buildings.

“I promise.” You say and he sighs.

“Uh, well…” His eyes drift to El and you see he is struggling on where to start.

El gives a nod of confirmation before shifting her body to you.

“I hit my bully with a roller blade and was arrested.”

You almost swerve the car in surprise, regaining control. You were sure Nancy and Jonathan would be knowingly nodding to themselves behind you.

“Um…” You glance at her. “Okay.”

“Are you mad?” She asks and you immediately shake your head.

“What? No, of course not.” You assure, reaching over and taking her hand in yours for a moment, other hand on the wheel. “I was just surprised. If anything… I’m proud of you.”

“You are?” Her voice was filled with disbelief and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Are you kidding me?” You smile, reminiscing on past experiences, “I’ve lost count of the amount of bullies I’ve fought.”

“But it was wrong.” El frowns and you sigh.

“Yeah. But we’re human.” You shrug, finally reaching the tree line. “We get angry. And sometimes we’ll just snap when it all gets too much. And who knows, maybe this bully will finally learn their lesson and actually get a life.”

“She was an asshole.” Will mumbles, earning surprised glances, “What? She was.”

El erupts into giggles and Mike smiles, bumping Will’s shoulder.

“So what was jail like?” You ask, driving up the long path to the cabin, far from the usual roads of Hawkins now.

“I didn’t get there.” El explains. “Papa found me.”

“Pap- wait, Brenner?” You risk another glance, a worried frown. “Is that where you got your new haircut?”

“Hm.” She fiddles with the bottom of her top, “I got my powers back. He died. But I am okay.”

You slowly nod, squeezing her hand before returning it to the wheel.

“Good.” You mutter beneath your breath and you look into the mirror to the boys in the backseat. “What about you two? Anything crazy you wanna share?”

“Um.” Will looks to Mike who purses his lips, raising his hand as if summoning something from the air.

“Well… because Joyce wasn’t there we were being babysat by these cops. They wouldn’t let us leave so Jonathan came up with a plan to get Argyle to break us out.” Mike starts and you nod for him to continue. “Yeah, then there was a shoot-out and they died.”

“Wow.” You breathe. “Just… wow.”

“Yep.” Mike nods. “My mom has banned me from vacations.”

“I hope my mom is around here.” Will mumbles and you smile.

“I have no doubt in my mind that she’s okay.” You assure and he sends you a grateful smile.

“What about you?” El suddenly questions as you notice the cabin just ahead. “How was your… crazy?”

“Uh…” You pull the car to a stop, turning off the ignition and shifting to face her.

There was so much you undoubtedly had to say. How you had been cursed for four long years, how the monster that controlled your nightmares had plunged his claws into your chest, leaving you to die alone on the cold wooden floor. How you had unexpectedly connected with the Mind Flayer and brought yourself back to life and would have to carry that trauma with you forever.

So much to say, but not enough heart to say it.

“How about we get to all of that another time, yeah?”

As everyone steps out of the car, air is sucked in between your teeth. Hopper Cabin was a little worse for wear from the earthquake, something you had all expected. When Jonathan and Nancy eventually pull up, everyone gets to work cleaning up.

It was almost therapeutic to be able to actually control something. As you swept the floors for remains of debris, depositing them on the porch for Argyle to happily stuff into a trash bag, you felt somewhat calm knowing that you found a mess you could actually clean up.

After a while, El disappears to her room, gently setting the door so there was still a gap. Mike and Will sat on the couch, having a heart to heart, so you resigned from your broom to venture outside.

Jonathan and Nancy were nailing boards onto the windows when you walk past, exchanging smiles. You send Argyle a little wave as he inspects a mushroom, getting a sloppy grin in return.

Then, as you take a deep breath, you notice a vehicle approaching in the distance.

You send a glance back to your friends, Nancy’s frown matching your own. The car stopped just a few feet in front of you, but you weren’t afraid.

You had already caught a sight of the mother in the front seat.

“Joyce?” You call out when she steps into the open, her smile spreading. You quickly move towards her, motioning back to the house, “Everyone is helping clear up Hop-”

Your words come to a halt when another man steps out of the vehicle, sporting a cap and a sincere smile.

“Hopper?”

You couldn’t believe it when he made his way over to you, pulling you into a hug. His light chuckles vibrated through his chest, a sound you hadn’t heard since the late nights you would spend waiting for Jack at the station.

“What- how?” You stammer out questions, pulling away with a smile.

“It’s, uh…” He glances at Joyce who just tightens her lips with a shrug, “It’s a long story.”

His eyes frown at the scars starting just below your neck.

“What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.” You sigh, looking back to the cabin. “But I think you should probably go see your daughter, right?”

An array of emotions flashed across his eyes when he nods, parting from your with a ruffle of your hair and heading inside. Joyce lets out a satisfied sigh of joy as she reaches her arms out to you, pulling you into a hug.

“I'm so glad you're okay, hun.” She whispers into your ear, a kiss placed on your cheek before greeting her children, pulling them into tight hugs.

You smile as they all reunite, as a family.

Even though you were stood on the outside, looking at that display of love, you didn’t feel envious like you would have a year ago. If anything, you felt a little sad that you couldn’t hold Max like that right now.

Y/n

Spinning around, you feel goosebumps trail along your skin, quickening your breath. Something appeared in the corner of your eye, someone stood beside you, and you look over to see Will sporting your same feared expression.

Exchanging glances, your eyes tear away and drift to the sky, noticing the little flakes that fell.

No one needed to move to know exactly what the white particles were, what they brought. After all, the Upside Down had already leaked into your town, spreading amongst the buildings and forcing people out of their homes.

You all start to walk towards the source, curiosity high. But before you would even see it, the chill down your spine told you all you needed to know.

Hell had come to Hawkins.

Standing high on the hill, a curse had spread amongst the fields, burning away the light and joy within the nature. You and El had stepped forward first, the younger girl examining a flower that had wilted away. You stood a few feet from her, the others behind you and close to another for comfort. Your eyes were glued to the cloud of smoke pouring into the sky, bleeding the dark world into your own, military surrounding the areas like they had a chance of containing everything within it.

Four years of your life was given to protecting your town, your friends, your family, from this. You had battled monsters you hadn’t known existed, risked your life for people that cared for you just as much as you cared for them.

You hunted a Demogorgon, taking justice for Barb, and succeeded, finding a whole world of danger that threatened Hawkins. You saved Will from the Mind Flayer, protecting the kids and reuniting with your best friend, a vow to protect eachother always. You fought a disease that took so many people away from you, survived the efforts of the men living beneath Starcourt, and found yourself to be more powerful than you ever realised.

You suffered losses, and lost focus, but you did it with your friends. You all worked together to take down the greatest evil you had ever faced, and you had failed. But that failure brought something to make you fight.

You learnt and accepted that you will never be alone.

You had no idea what would happen next, what could possibly be the biggest battle of your lives. All you knew was that you hadn’t fought, bled, died, for this to be the result. This wasn’t the end of your story.

This was just the beginning.

[A/N: *wipes tears away* So... I guess this is the final chapter to Raining Hellfire 4. I cannot thank everyone enough for the indescribable feeling I have knowing that you have loved and supported this story. So much has happened, and we've come so far, that this genuinely felt like our journey to this end. I'm getting really emotional so I will end this by just saying thank you again. Will I return for RH5? Possibly. I want to. I hope we'll all be ready to reunite again soon.

love, Angel <3]

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711 / @eddiesbirdie / @livasaurasrex / @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs / @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley / @mothmanatemycat / @sheisjoeschateau / @champagnejoker / @umidktbh / @fallinginlovewithqueue / @ilovetaylorswift132006 / @live-the-fangirl-life / @sadbitchfangirl / @cherrymedicine13 / @engenelxver / @sagaonpandora /

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jackwolfes · 9 days

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I've been reading smut for nine years so you'd think I'd be able to at least write a little bit of it, right? And yet, the minute it comes to even a kiss scene I get all uncomfy and just can't do it. Lately I've been coming up with so many smut scenes I wanna write but I keep second guessing myself and feeling all embarrassed. Any words of wisdom from a smut veteran like yourself?

i've shared some advice on this in more detail before and also here but the key question i'd ask yourself is: why

like. why are you embarrassed writing smut. why THIS and not writing fluff or whump or very elaborate longfics. because smut is at the end of the day any other type of writing, with just as much feeling and action and weird messy fluids.

"sex is taboo and shameful and i've got catholic guilt" - so fair, we live in a society. but also, sex is natural and a 100% morally neutral act. i'd be surprised if this wasn't underlying some part of the embarrassment but at a certain point, if this is the key thing holding you back, you might just need to sit down and consider whether you want the hegemonic bastards that suck the dick of advertisers and snuff out any sort of difference to be the thing holding you back from what is already a transgressive weirdo hobby. accept that if this is your biggest sticking point, you might not be ready to jump straight into writing a graphic monsterfucking piss play orgy and might have to start with heavy petting and missionary that's more feelings and "i love you"s than descriptions of genitals. and maybe you need to write 10,000 kissing scenes first to build up the courage to write the word "cock", but that's never going to be wasted time. there's no race. you don't need to jump straight in.

"fear of being perceived" - you are the arbiter of who sees this. you can post it anonymously, you can post this under a sock puppet account you made with a completely different email, you can wait until youve written 5 million words and post it all at once, you can literally never ever ever ever ever post it ever. but don't not write it because of an audience that doesn't even exist yet.

"fear of being cancelled for writing something weird" - the ao3 block button is a beautiful, beautiful feature. if someone reads something they don't like, what are they going to do? nark in your comments? whine? launch a smear campaign? fuck em. you should practice good internet safety to avoid getting doxx'd anyway, and if you do literally the only thing they can do is complain, which means all you have to do to get them to shut up is block them

"i like what i'm writing a Bit Too Much and don't know how to process that" - 1) self indulgence is the fucking shit but also 2) the writing is the processing it. writing is a tool that can help you identify the things that get you hot or your underlying opinions on the concept of intimacy and love. and dear god it's fucking awful to be vulnerable but the benefit is very very worth it. also no one's gonna know if you have a wank because you wrote a fic so hot you turned yourself on unless you tell them, so if that's how you gotta process it, then that's between you and god

"it's going to be bad" - it will unfortunately continue to be bad without practice.

if it wasn't immediately obvious from this answer, the only reason i ever got to 'smut veteran' stage was because i got really really fucking shameless about a lot of things, including the fact that i cannot say sexual things out loud, sometimes turn bright red while writing smut, and have still been known to get so embarrassed by a fic that i have to slam my laptop shut and put it away because i can't cope. and i think that part of writing anything that makes you feel that way is acknowledging that 1) you're strong enough to get through that discomfort and 2) a little bit of discomfort is probably worse than not writing anything at all

#anyway i am obsessed with the title of “smut veteran” im going to say it forever #asks #uthers-bald-head #my first smut fic is still on ao3 and im sure it's awful but i refuse to reread it #advice #long post

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st4rwon · 1 year

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stars and raindrops

16. home

looking at the stars, the only thing seungmin could think about was you, that’s why he loved them so much. the regret of breaking up had filled your hearts, so when you run into each other after a year what happens?

word count: 1.8K (not proofread)

a/n: sorry for the long wait everyone, hope you enjoy <3

you stared at the assignments sitting in front of you, they weren’t going to do themselves. you sighed for the nth time, trying your best to shake the thoughts out of your head. you tried your best to be confident and take things slow with seungmin, but the thought of being so personal with another person scared you. you never had that with anyone, of course you had your friends, but a relationship is a million times more intimate.

getting up from your chair you decided to go somewhere that could help you with these issues, so you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

looking around there were a million places you could’ve sat, by the bench, or the hammocks under the shade. but one specific place stood out, ‘your’ place, it was by a large tree, that was big enough to shade you from the sun, but still allowed you to look at the sky.

a smile couldn’t help but be placed on your face as you set down your blanket.

you loved all the memories formed here, the picnics you had, painting you made, or late night stargazing.

every memory you had with seungmin was a good one, well except for the break up. you never meant to hurt him, in all honesty you were trying to protect him. seungmin was struggling at the time, so you didn’t want to add to that pressure. but in the end you had just upset him more by hiding it all from him. you didn’t want to repeat it again, hide everything from him once more and risk losing everything you had. but you didn’t know what else to do, after all every encounter made your heart race faster. would being honest to seungmin hurt you or help you?

with all the frustrations building up, tears formed at the corners of your eyes. anger grew within yourself, why were you getting so worked up over this, you needed to pull yourself together, but those thoughts did nothing but make you sob harder. you buried your head into your knees, hoping that no one would be judging you from afar.

suddenly you felt a tap from behind you, you quickly lifted your head up and wiped away your tears before turning around, seeing who shocked you to your core.

“seungmin? what are you doing here?” you asked confused

“well i saw that you were here and thought you’d like some company. though i guess i was wrong?” he said, mumbling the last sentence

you were at a loss for words. he came here to see you? to spend time with you? maybe if you weren’t so consumed by your thoughts you would’ve noticed how much he cared, how he was there anytime you needed him, how he wasn’t even mad you kept your problems to yourself, all he wanted was to help you smile again. he thought that breaking up would make you feel better, take out what was making you so uncomfortable, but it actually made you hurt even more.

“yn? should i leave?”

“sorry, if you could tell i’m a bit out of it” you said, trying to brighten the mood, but seeing his concerned face looking down at you made you burst into tears once again.

seungmin immediately sat down, he moved his arms to hold you, but hesitated, was it okay to do this? but your choked sobs snapped him back to the present, the most important thing was to comfort you.

so that’s exactly what he did. he held you close to him, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while rubbing your back. it really did break his heart to see you like this.

slowly you calmed down, seungmin wiped away the tears left on your cheeks, as well as pushing your stray hairs back. you didn’t realize he was holding you until the warmth left you back. seungmin turned around to get something from his bag. you peak over and see two bags of chips in his hand, he turns back over to you and passes over a bag.

“thanks” you softly smile

“now you wanna tell me what made you cry like that?”

your gaze fell to the floor, nervously biting your lip. whatever happened in this moment would change your relationship with seungmin. for the better or worse you didn’t know.

seungmin put his finger under your chin, lifting your head to face him. “i know you are scared to tell me what’s going on, but i promise, nothing will change between us. you may have lost me once, but i’m never planning to leave your side again”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep” you responded quite harshly, but you quickly corrected your tone, “it’s just, i don’t know what to do”

seungmin turned his head in confusion

“with us. it’s all so confusing. i mean, i don’t want to go down the same path as before, i missed us. but at the same time, the more time i spend with you, the harder it is to push my feelings away. you mean so much to me minnie, i would give you the world just to see you smile. it’s hard for me to figure out all these feelings, because what matters to me most is how you feel. but i just can’t figure it out, and it drives me crazy. it just made me end up in the same place as before, too scared to talk to you. it hurts so much to treat you like this, to hide everything from you, but i keep doing it and i don’t know why, i don’t know why i can’t just express it all to you…”

silence laced the air, seungmin taking time to understand each and every word that had left your mouth. he wanted to make sure he heard everything you had to say.

“yn, i’m sorry”

you regretted it all, why would you think it would be okay to spill out all your feelings?! “just ignore what i sai-”

“i’m sorry because you had to go through all of that alone. it must’ve been hard holding all that in, but i understand why you did it. it’s hard to tell people how you feel when you don’t even know how you feel.”

you froze, warmth filled your heart, the words that had come out of seungmin’s were so comforting. you had never thought about it like that, always so frustrated with yourself, you never really tried to understand yourself.

“honestly i could tell something was going on, but i didn’t want to insert my presence without you wanting it. eventually i caved in, i hated seeing you hurt. well i didn’t even see you hurt, but i could feel it through your texts. honestly during the year we were apart it occurred to me how i knew every detail about you. all these small things were the reason i fell in love with you, you might see hiding your feelings as a bad thing, but in reality you’re just doing it to protect your loved ones, there’s nothing bad about that. but i’m glad you told me how you feel, it shows how much you’ve grown. and it also allowed me to tell you that, i feel the same way. there isn’t a second where i don’t think about you. once i had you back it frustrated me so much, all i wanted to do was hold you close and kiss you, but i had to remind myself that there were boundaries to follow.”

you looked at him with wide eyes, seeing his cheeks heat up.

“we don’t have to start anything though, i don’t want to rush-” seungmin started.

you couldn’t help yourself from placing your lips to his, seungmin quickly reciprocated. you missed this so much, love filling up your entire body. knowing he was on the same page as you brought up so many feelings, especially hearing the care and emotion in his voice. the kiss was intense, the feelings for each other had never left.

you felt something wet on your face, were you crying? abruptly rain poured down above the two of you, making you break from the kiss. you looked around for some place to protect yourself from the rain, but of course the park didn’t have anywhere to shelter yourselves. seungmin grabbed your arm and ran with you to find someplace to stay. it took a bit, but you got to a small convenience store. as you entered the store, you both looked at each other for a minute, before starting to laugh.

“here i’ll buy an umbrella” you offered, seungmin nodding in response.

he looked around the store, strolling through the small aisles trying to find something. he grabbed it off the shelf and headed to the check out.

he waited for you by the door, and once you finished paying for it the two of you headed outside. you opened up the umbrella and started walking, seungmin following behind, he took the umbrella from you, and placed your hand into his pocket.

“i got a heat pack, so hopefully you won’t catch a cold.”

“the intention was definitely there, but i don’t think a small heat pack in your pocket is gonna prevent a cold, especially since we are both drenched.”

“guess i’m just going to have to nurse you back to health,” seungmin poked.

“if anything you are going to be sick with me” you laughed

you were happy the events unfolded in this way, the awkward tension was nowhere to be found. you continued to walk hand in hand, and luckily the campus wasn’t too far from the park.

once you got to your building, you tried to take your hand out of his pocket, but he held it tight. “i’ll walk you up to your dorm, it's more safe.” he stated

“you sure it's not because you want to spend more time with me?” you smirked, nudging him.

“that's just a bonus”

at the door of your dorm you took out the keys to open it, before walking in you turned to say bye.

“thanks for everything today minnie, i really needed to hear that” you said grinning

“of course, i’m always here if you need it. now go to sleep, it's late.”

“okay, okay dad”

“i don’t think it’s appropriate to say that after we just kis-”

“shut up! go home minnie. take care” you said, closing the door.

seungmin pushed it open a bit, “one more thing,” he said, looking at you through the small slit. “i’m really proud of you for what you did today.” he said.

you slammed the door in surprise of the words you heard. you pulled out your phone to text him, knowing that you could not face him with your red face.

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rigginsstreet · 2 months

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Ok twisters spoilers I guess so don’t read if you wanna watch but LISTEN harringrove au

Steve storm chasing in college with his girlfriend Nancy and best friends Robin and Dustin and during this experiment Steve has for controlling tornados Nancy and Dustin end up dying and it fucks steve up so much that he quits storm chasing and moves to new york

Robin in the meantime ends up working with Brenner under the guise of helping victims of tornados like she wants to create a better warning system to get people evacuated and Brenner offered her money to help develop her radar system in exchange for data that’s supposed to help infrastructure in small towns or whatever bullshit we’ll get back to that later

So storms have been picking up in record numbers so robin tracks Steve down cuz he’s got a real good knack for sniffing out a tornado and she needs his eye. Steve’s still got ptsd about losing Nancy and Dustin but he agrees to help

So he’s back in Indiana for the first time in years and as he and Robin and their team are gathered around getting ready for a storm here comes some loud ass in a janky truck

Billy hargroves gotten kinda famous for being this crazy storm chaser that livestreams all these stunts during tornados. Gets millions of views. He’s hot and charismatic and everybody eats it up

He’s got Tommy and Heather on his team and they’re just as crazy as Billy is

Billy and Steve have their little tit for tat, racing to chase a particular tornado but steve and his senses trick billy into going after a dud so Steve and robin can get the win and this is how their relationship goes

Billys obnoxious always making a spectacle of himself and selling merch with his face on it and at first it just looks like a vanity thing but after some serious damage is done to a town and Steve’s going through to help he sees Billy and his crew there helping to search for lost pets and cleaning up etc and he finds out that the only reason they sell the merch is to get money to help with the clean up and donations and food for the victims so naturally this has steve changing his tune

Especially when billy starts arguing with him about how he’s working for the bad guy and later with some research Steve realizes Brenner is just into buying up land from small business owners for development and is taking advantage of people in their lowest moments

So this causes a riff between Steve and Robin. Steve joins Billy’s team (after a definitely not date and near death experience at the local rodeo where a tornado almost took them out and billy had to huddle over Steve to keep him safe of course)

Billy finds out about Steve’s old plans for controlling tornados and encourages him to pick it back up, it just needs some tweaking they can make this work

So anyway billy and Steve storm chasing together, Robin jumping ship and telling Brenner to fuck off and going after Steve. Steve saving the day during The Big One while Billy and Robin and Tommy and Heather help get a town to safety (Billy saving Heather from getting sucked up into a tornado)

Steve going back to New York thinking his job is done but billys gotta chase him down the airport to confess his feelings and give him a big kiss just before it’s announced that flights are delayed for an oncoming storm system approaching and well… looks like billy and Steve have more work to do

#the whole movie I was like let me make this about them #as are my ways 😌#harringrove

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bloodiedrogue · 1 year

Text

LESSONS IN CONFESSING (5)

SUMMARY: You and Peter go on a little field trip!

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 7,023

WARNINGS: Angst, canon typical violence, misuse of a hockey stick, descriptions of a panic attack, a little bit of comfort at the end I SWEAR.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, hope you guys are liking the fic so far. I'll be honest we only have one chapter left! At least... of this arc. >:)

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

The feeling of his lips still lingers as you crash to the ground. In a heap of pain, you crumple to the floor ass first, your head barely missing the leg of your bed frame, causing you to let out a frustrated huff and bring your hands to your eyes, palming the sockets in frustration because what the fuck was that?

The last thing you expected going into this was a kiss. Really anything other than an earful of curse words and repeated avoidance was all you anticipated. You didn’t think in a million years he’d kiss you and then shove you through a goddamn portal!

“What the fuck, man?”

You’re not sure whether to cry or laugh as you lay there, shell-shocked over the whole ordeal. Nothing about that interaction made much sense now that you’re thinking about it. Instead of exhibiting his usual aggression, Miguel tried to reason with you, his voice almost apologetic as you screamed in his face demanding answers. In the moment you didn’t notice, but now that you’re away you can see everything differently —clearly in a way that has you squinting at the ceiling trying to remember.

His body looked different, almost smaller. His eyes, no longer in their usual narrowed stance, looked soft. Worried. As if your presence there was less so an annoyance and more of an actual problem. Not to mention the coolness of his voice. Usually, Miguel’s as hotheaded as they come so to hear a tone without any fight behind it felt unusual. Wrong in a way that makes you wonder what the hell changed. In those short hours between conversations what happened that made his hostility subside?

And what the fuck is Alchemex?

Shooting upward, you make a beeline for your desk. As per usual it’s a mess, covered in empty bottles of beer and Gatorade as well as protein bar wrappers. Angrily, you swat a pile of the latter away, cursing under your breath as you turn on your laptop, groaning at the streamline of notifications that begin to roll in. Where are you? Sweetheart, are you okay? Call me when you get this. Pete’s looking for you!

There’s about nearly thirty or so texts synching in through your phone. Most of them are from Peter and May, but sprinkled in between there’s a few from Gwen and MJ too, all of them filled with words of worry making you swear again and race to the living room. You’re pretty sure you left your phone on the coffee table. It’s either there or somewhere on the couch, you guess, sprinting across the hardwood floor only to stop in your tracks, noticing Peter.

His back is to you but regardless, you can see that he’s talking to someone through his watch, his voice low and broken. You figure whoever’s on the other end of that call is probably telling him what happened. Either then or bad-mouthing him for doing a bad job of keeping this all a secret. For letting his stupid, civilian sister jump into another world unsupervised.

“Thanks, I uh, gotta’ go.”

It’s the one thing you hear before he turns to face you, eyes narrowing to take in your dishevelled appearance.

“Where the hell did you go?”

Fuck, he’s mad. Not that that’s surprising. You’d be mad too if you were in his shoes. It’s just you’re not used to mad Peter. Peter whose eyes are barely visible through the rage that collects across his brow. Peter who crosses his arms over his chest and anxiously taps his foot just like Ben when you were kids.

“Out?”

He scoffs, loudly. Angrily. A loud eruption of reverberation that has you closing your eyes and flinching, waiting for the impact. “Out? Are you kidding me? I leave for five seconds and somehow you end up across the universe by yourself with no phone?”

“Would a phone even work in—“

“You’re lucky Hobie was there. If it were anyone else you could’ve gotten in serious trouble.”

You open your mouth to argue but ultimately stop, realizing he’s right. You did something recklessly stupid. Something you promised to never do since he got bit by that spider and started swinging through the city fighting crime so you and the rest of his family would be safe.

“I’m sorry.”

As expected, he ignores your apology, groaning as he pinches the bridge of his nose and begins to pace. “I mean, seriously, what were you thinking? Had it ever occurred to you that maybe following me into a portal was maybe not the greatest idea?”

“Well yeah, of course I thought about it.”

“Did you really?”

You did, obviously. You thought about it for as long as you could before you decided, but he’ll never know that. Not with how fucking stubborn he’s being. “Look, I only followed you because I thought you’d be on the other side! If I’d of known you’d be long gone already I wouldn’t have jumped!”

“Somehow I highly doubt that.”

You can’t help but frown knowing this is a losing argument. No matter what you say or do will end in an ever-growing rift. Peter’s trust in you will falter the longer you speak and all you can think about is how much you don’t want that.

You’ve already lost the trust of one Spider-Man tonight. You don’t need to lose another.

Defeated, you cover your face in your hands, letting out a heavy breath as you walk toward the kitchen to grab the scotch.

“Oh, please don’t bring that out.” Peter groans as you grab the bottle along with the usual glasses, flashing him the most apologetic smile you can muster as you usher him to the couch and begin your ritual.

“I don’t want to drink with you.”

“Then don’t. Just sit.”

Thanks to Miguel’s past visits the bottle’s pretty much gone anyway. A detail you can tell confuses Peter as you empty the last of its contents into the glasses and set one in front of him.

“Look, I’m sorry I jumped into another dimension without your permission. I had —I mean—“

“Are you okay?”

You stop, confused. Peter always asks if you’re okay. Unlike most, he’s actually considerate of the way you feel in stressful situations, but something about the way he asks this time feels different. Unplanned. Spontaneous in a way he wasn’t necessarily prepared for.

“Yeah, why?”

“The scotch is gone.”

“So?”

“You only ever bring it out when I’m here,” he points out.

“Usually.”

“Usually?”

You nod, reaching for your glass to take a sip. When it hits your lips you can’t help but cringe, suddenly feeling wrong. As if the taste inside your mouth has been replaced with something inherently false.

“You’re hiding something.”

“No.”

You are. Sort of. At least, you didn’t realize you were until now. Over the course of the last few months, you figured Peter knew about Miguel’s visits. About his weird, overbearing boss hopping through your window semi-regularly to get patched up and sleep on your couch. It seemed like something he would mention, given the amount of intimacy you shared when you cleaned his wounds. All those countless nights of scotch fuelled arguments and the never-ending debate of identity.

Stupidly, you assumed Miguel told Peter everything, but now that you’re sitting next to him, glancing between the empty bottle and his troubled expression, you know that he didn’t. Not a single fucking word was uttered between the two of them and now you’re the one that has to bear the news.

“You’re horrible, you know that?”

If you weren’t already so stressed you’d laugh. But considering everything that’s happened over the course of twenty-four or so odd hours (maybe, honestly you have no idea at this point) you’re too exhausted.

“God, this is all so messed up.”

You’re at your wit's end, falling into the abyss. Your head is hurting and your chest feels like it’s a ticking time bomb with the way your heart rate suddenly rises. In the corner of your eye, you can see Peter’s face begin to soften, his eyes floating in a space between stern and concern. Ever so slowly he inches closer to you on the couch, pulling you tightly against his chest as you inhale a little hard and find yourself struggling to get it back out. At which point, the air in your lungs grows three sizes, filling the cavity of your chest; tightening around your innards like a half-tied noose ready to slide into its final form.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

His voice is simultaneously beside you and distant. The way it sounds is morphed by the time it hits your ears, distorting in waves as if you’re falling further into the ocean. You can’t hear or breathe and as time passes you can feel your vision start to go fuzzy as you try to focus on the glass in front of you.

It makes you think of Miguel, stupidly. Of all those nights spent sitting beside each other, talking about whatever topic of interest arose in the moment. Somehow, despite the countless hours spent together, the level of importance in those conversations was minimal, ranging from things like favourite dog breeds to the most influential shows of the 90s.

In those moments, the details he gave were vague, bordering on mass-produced opinions rather than ones of his own. Each time he answered one of your questions you were sceptical of his answer, always raising your brow in question before diving into some bullshit debate.

Staring at the fuzzy outline of the glass, you wonder if any of what he said was actually true. If he actually preferred baseball over football. If he thought video games were a pointless medium. If he favoured the smokier scotches over the brinier ones.

In the moment he could’ve said anything and you’d partially believe it. Out of the desire to know more about him, there was always this sliver of acceptance. This willingness to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially with the easy topics. Revealing to you his favourite things seemed pretty low on the overall secrecy scale, so it always felt like there might be some truth there. A desire of his own to offer up a part of himself.

You know now it was probably all a lie. Every last word uttered inside your cramped apartment was nothing more than a diversion tactic to keep himself guarded and fell for it like some fucking idiot.

God, you hate him. More than what you started with, your hatred grows as you pull yourself from Peter’s grasp and steady your breath, wiping your face in the process.

He doesn’t deserve your tears. Or any time spent thinking of how that kiss made you feel so completely full and warm and —fuck, enough of that.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop it; knowing he won’t.

“Okay, well we both know that’s a lie.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he downs the liquor in front of him, barely even registering the strength as he swallows it whole. “Fuck you and your stupid spider senses.”

“I think this time they’re just plain old Parker ones.”

“That’s even worse.”

“Sure is, now spill.”

It’s hard to come up with the right words, at first. Each time you open your mouth, ready to tell him everything you’re met with a reluctant nagging at the back of your head, telling you to shut up. To keep this all a secret because it’s classified. But then you remember this isn’t about him. It’s about you in this universe among all the other ones.

“Before I start, I uh —I need you to promise you’re not going to tell anyone. Like, seriously anyone.”

Peter looks at you with questionable eyes, obviously wondering what you mean as you sigh and begin to go into detail.

“Truth is, Miguel’s been coming over,” you say, trying to gauge his unwaveringly neutral reaction. “After that horrible brunch day he showed up in the middle of the night all fucked up so I let him stay. We talked briefly. I offered him ol’ the painkiller and scotch trick and since then he’s been coming over.”

“How frequently?”

You shrug. “Semi.”

There’s a pause, during which Peter’s jaw tightens as he leans back, raising his hands to his face. “Do you have —oh, I don’t know—an exact amount maybe?”

You mirror his position, resting your head against the backing of the couch. With a sigh you glance up to the ceiling and try to count every individual visit, realizing quickly that they sort of just flow together like one long conversation spanning over the course of eight or so weeks.

“I think twelve?”

His mouth drops open in shock. “Twelve?”

“Give or take.”

The next thing you know Peter’s grumbling into his hands, muttering about the double standard of rules —about how Miguel should know better and how this could ruin everything.

You’re sure it has something to do with some inter-dimensional laws. Like time travel, there’s probably some sort of code all the spiders live by where they don’t mess with the order of things. People from other universes aren’t meant to mingle unless it’s for the purpose of keeping order. Where you’re from is where you stay and Miguel showing up time and time again without anyone knowing is a direct violation of that.

“I don’t know if this is like, against the rules or whatever but he told me… things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Uh, things about me?”

It sounds wrong when you say it like that, especially when Peter sits back up, dropping his hands to look at you with wide eyes. You discover then that you definitely could have worded it better —thought about the implications of your phrasing before letting the words fly out of your mouth. This is a serious matter after all.

“He told me he knows me —sort of,” you explain. "I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something along the lines of in every universe you are infuriating followed by him arguing how he understands me more than I think he does.”

As you roll your eyes at the memory, you can see that Peter’s still processing, his gaze darting around the room at full speed. At the same time, his chest rises and falls in quick succession, his entire body fidgeting throughout the breaths until suddenly he’s completely still and staring at his watch.

“Did he say anything else?”

Despite everything he’s kept from you, you feel obligated to lie for Miguel. To stop the conversation right there and call it a day. In the long run, it’d save him a lot of grief —probably you as well depending on how he responds. If you stop now, that’s it. The book closes and you get to move on.

Do you even want that?

You’re not sure you do. Not after Miguel’s final words. Sure, you don’t really know what they mean —how they apply to you and him and all the rules that have been set in place, but at this point you’re not willing to wait to see how things play out. Your patience is thin on a good day, and considering the severity of everything happening the idea of staring at that ticking clock, waiting for whatever it is to happen, isn’t an option.

So you have to tell him. About Miguel’s confession, about the conversation in the control room, about those final words uttered before he kissed you.

“Hobie took me to HQ.”

It’s the only thing that needs to be said for Peter to understand that the situation is going further downhill. Immediately, his face falls into a panic, his hands moving to grip the roots of his hair as he sighs and leans back, waiting for the other bomb to drop.

When it does he’s a mess of anxious energy. Every thought that zips through his ears is showcased across his face, ranging from confused to angry, ending in desperation you’re not sure you’ve witnessed.

“I have to talk to him.”

He’s standing from the couch and stepping over your feet before you can even blink. Quickly, you follow and reach to grab the wrist that houses his watch, pulling him back to a reality where it’s just you and him and the urgency of everything is paused for just a minute.

“You need to talk to me first, Pete,” you beg, feeling him peel himself away from your grasp.

“He should’ve known not to come here.”

His fingers are rubbing rough circles into his temples now, pressurizing the stress. Turning it into a physical sensation he can work through. You know this because you do the same when you’re stressed. Something about feeling that pain on your skin instead of the inside of your head makes everything easier. More palatable when the world feels like it’s ending. It’s something Ben taught you to do when you were kids. “Localize that feeling and take deep breaths. It’ll make you feel better,” he’d say.

In this moment you want to repeat those words. To pull him close and tell him that everything’s going to be fine. That you’re never going to talk to Miguel ever again if it means that things can go back to the way they were.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just you and him —it… it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“Like what?”

Your voice is harsher than you intend it to be. Full of an impatient venom that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You want to know what he means without all the necessary filler. Already for weeks, you’ve been kept in the dark, longing to learn the truth and every time you get even an inch closer it always feels like you’re thrown three feet back, scrambling to remake progress.

“Peter, please. For once in your life don’t keep secrets just because you think it’ll keep me safe.”

It feels like you’re begging to no one. As if, instead of a person, there’s this empty vessel who’s staring back at you, lifeless in the eyes and face but still moving to press the screen of their watch.

“I’ll jump in after you.”

“I know.”

He says it so quietly you can barely hear it over the whirring of the portal that begins to form, shrouding you in a light that warms your skin as Peter motions you to follow.

Even though he single handedly has one of the most stressful lives in existence, it’s very rare you ever see Peter on edge. No matter the situation, there’s always an aura of calm that surrounds him. In high-stress environments, he’s able to push through the problems with little issue, ignoring the onslaught of doubts you’re sure are still there.

Because of this, seeing him all tense as you wander through the streets of an unfamiliar city, you find yourself frowning —worrying that maybe you’ve pushed him too far.

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” he tells you, sighing.

Stopping at a crosswalk, you both look left to right and back again, surveying the snow-covered streets in awe. It’s colder here. A good fifteen or so degrees below what it is back home. Everything in sight is enveloped in a white blanket twelve inches deep. Beneath your feet you can feel the presence of ice crackling against the pavement, making you cautiously step out onto the street when the light inevitably goes green.

“Where are we, anyway?”

“Earth-1867.”

You meant to ask which city, completely forgetting you’re in another dimension, but reserve asking him, knowing deep down you don’t really need to know. You’ll never be back here, anyways.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

Thankfully, before stepping into the portal, Pete handed you a jacket and some boots —both of which you nearly declined to take before noticing the look on his face. You figured because the weather was pretty mild back home you wouldn’t have to worry about it here. Then you quickly realized how ignorant that sounded and threw them on without question.

Now that you’re walking through the streets of some winter wonderland, you’re thankful for once you managed to listen.

“That’s what happens in Canada.”

“Canada?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly interested, you start to glance around a bit more, taking in all the unfamiliar buildings that line both sides of the streets. As expected, they look pretty similar to the ones back home. Small hole-in-the-wall shops with dark-coloured doors and big windows. Most of the signs are flipped closed, revealing nearly pitch-black interiors that have you squinting to look inside, but there’s also a few that remain open.

“Wait, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see.”

Groaning, you throw your head back in defeat to see the darkened sky. In the corners of your vision, the city lights glow faintly, shadowing the stars while simultaneously showcasing the huge puffs of snow that fall toward your feet.

Almost immediately, it makes you blink and look back down, noticing a masked spider-woman a couple of feet away. She’s waving at you excitedly with one hand while her other remains occupied by a drink tray full of cups.

“Hey!” Peter smiles and immediately returns the gesture, his pace quickening to meet her in the middle of the street, both of them going in for a hug.

“What’d you do get lost on the way or something?” she jokes once you’re near, nudging her elbow with his before handing him the drink tray. When he takes it he shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“You and your gifts.”

“What? It’s the way of my people, don’t be a dick about it.”

Peter raises his free hand in defence before offering you a cup. When you take it you practically melt against the heat, sighing contently as you thank her.

“No problem. Figured you could use a little pick me up after… y’know?”

You look at her confused, moving the cup to your lips to take a sip of arguably the best hot chocolate you’ve ever tasted.

“Pete texted me on the way over,” she explains then. “He didn’t give me details or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Just said you wanted a little tour of the abandoned Alchemex building we got out on North York.”

Alchemex.

The liquid inside your throat catches, prompting you to double over and cough, causing panic in both Peter and his friend. Both of them jump to your aid, placing soft hands on either shoulder, watching intently as you clutch your throat, gasping for air, wondering what the hell’s going to happen next.

It can’t be good. Peter said it’d be rough and although he’s often the type to lie and keep secrets about the betterment of your health and safety, you’re certain this time he’s telling the truth. What lies behind the doors of that Alchemex building will be anything but easy for you to swallow and regardless of wanting to know, you’re still not sure you're ready.

“You okay?”

You nod slowly, feeling them both sidestep away to give you space. By that point, you can finally breathe again. As you inhale, you can feel the cold air rushing through your lungs, erasing the warmth entirely. It makes you shiver upon impact, your gaze catching the two of them staring at one another.

“I’m fine, sorry.”

“Right, well, uh, we should probably get going then. Let the tour commence and all that?”

Both you and Peter nod, causing the spider to clap her hands.

“Alright then, drink up. It’s about a twenty minute swing away.”

Her name is Riley Gaboury.

While you’re swinging through the air, clutching onto Peter’s back for dear life, she tells you this, then follows up with the same kind of spiel Hobie gave you earlier. The one about how she got bit by a spider and became Toronto’s one and only Spider-Woman.

As she speaks, you try your best to listen, feeling your ears sting from the chill of the air pelting against your skin. Based on the quickness of her voice you can tell it’s been a while since she’s had any visitors. Her voice feels never-ending, like an overexcited child explaining their favourite TV show.

In any other instance you’d be happy to talk with her —get to know her a bit better— but right now all you can feel is the cold anxiety creeping through your limbs.

All your extremities have pretty much gone numb, pulsing underneath the surface of near frostbitten skin and it’s becoming too much. More than anything you want to ask if you can stop and walk but knowing the obvious urgency you keep your mouth shut, trying your best to distract yourself as you take a particularly rough turn.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles under his mask.

You groan back, barely able to think, let alone speak as he propels both of you forward over a nearby rooftop.

“We’re almost there, just a couple more blocks,” Riley calls out.

As you whizz past the traffic below, you can feel your stomach churning with anticipation. Although it’s only been a few hours, you can feel the oncoming disaster of knowing begin to move. Closer and closer it inches the further you swing, reminding you of the potential consequences. Of the inevitable complications that’ll come with knowing why you’re meant to remain in the darkness.

It feels almost too much as Riley points to a tall building lined entirely with windows, prompting both her and Peter to suddenly divert their path, building enough momentum so that they can gain height.

You almost vomit when you realize how high up you are. When Peter’s hands land firmly against the building’s side, you close your eyes and tuck your head into the crook of his neck, muttering curse word after curse word as he crawls you to the top, laughing once you fall onto the roof in a heap.

“Oh, my god, land,” you mutter, your body covered almost completely by the snow.

Riley snorts. “Whatever you do don’t look over the edge.”

At this point you wouldn’t dare, knowing how high up you are. Instead, you merely stand, feeling your legs shake as you brush off all the snow and turn to Peter who’s already wandering toward the rooftop entrance.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?”

“Stay close.”

You nod and wander over, watching him attempt to open the door but to no avail. “Locked?”

He groans and nods, turning towards Riley who’s already wandering over, producing a small metal rectangle with a button on it. “Move,” she says. Then out of nowhere, a large stick grows in her hand, causing you to stare in awe as she takes the end of it and starts to whack the window out.

“Is that a fucking hockey stick?”

As she pulls the contraption back, she nods her head. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah, cool,” you and Peter say in unison, watching her stab out the edges of the broken glass before reaching in to unlock the door.

After that you make quick work of moving through the building, quietly rushing through various halls and stairways, trying your best not to get too distracted by the pictures that line the walls. Most of them are abstract pieces you’d see in virtually any office, strips of colour layered overtop of each other, but scattered between there are employee pictures too. Faces of people you’ve never met, smiling in lab coats both by themselves and in groups.

You find yourself lingering on those, glancing down at the plaques that list their names. Jordan Boone. Liz Allen. Paul Phillip-Ravage, etc.

In the picture in front of you, there’s around a team of twenty all clumped together, smiling and holding each other tight. Due to the wear and tear of the building though, some of the faces have been scribbled out —graffitied over with a black sharpie. At the centre, there’s a pair of faceless people leaning against a giant tube of liquid, both of their hands pressing against the glass so closely you can see their pinkies interlocked.

“Hey, c’mon!”

As much as you want to defy orders and continue snooping, you follow Peter through a set of double doors and turn toward Riley. “What is this place?”

“It’s uh, hard to explain,” she says, her tone full of discomfort as Peter stops you in front of another set of doors.

“Mind keeping watch, Ri?” he interrupts.

Riley nods her head, offering you a blank look before barreling forward, shooting a pair of webs towards the ceiling so that she throws herself out of sight.

Once she’s gone you swallow hard, remembering why you’re here. Why after all this arguing and travelling and breaking and entering you find yourself standing in the middle of some barely lit hallway with your superhero brother.

You motion to the door. “This is it?”

“Yup.”

“A bit lacklustre, don’t you think?”

He scoffs and pushes open the door, holding it open as you follow closely behind, suddenly feeling the need to retract your statement because the room before you is anything but mesmerizing.

Filled to the brim with abandoned equipment, it’s almost as if the team located here just up and left, leaving everything as is. Desks covered in research papers and old monitors line the walls with little disturbance. Test tubes filled with unknown substances are stacked haphazardly throughout the room, taking up cupboards and tables.

Taking a few steps in, you notice all the small details of a testing lab. Coats hanging off hooks by the door, a kitchenette with a coffee maker and toaster oven, a whiteboard filled with old writing that’s been scrubbed away and replaced with crude drawings.

It’s as if the whole room’s been frozen in time.

“Holy shit.”

At the room’s centre, you see a tube identical to the one in the picture outside. The only difference is that it’s sustainably bigger and empty, the double-layered glass encapsulating nothing but air.

“What is this?”

“A battery.”

You look at Peter who’s now standing next to you, staring at it with his mask off.

“For what?”

“Inter-dimensional travel. In this universe it was the first of its kind —a breakthrough in modern physics,” he explains. “Alchemex employees in this department had been working on it for a while when one of their geneticists had a breakthrough.”

You stare at him, mouth half open, waiting for him to continue but he doesn’t. He just stands there, reaching out to touch the glass with a shaky hand that has you breathing heavily and looking around, trying to put two and two together.

It’s you, right? The geneticist. That’s why he brought you here.

“Wait, Peter, I—“

It’s too much, at first. This idea that another version of you could help create something so big. Obviously, every version of yourself is different. There’s no set standard for the level of understanding one has on certain subjects. In another life, you could be anything from a barista to an astronaut and it wouldn’t matter, because every universe is different. Every universe is unique and thriving and while, sure, some of them may overlap with the same sort of details, at their core they’re still completely separate.

“Everything’s connected.”

Or not.

“This event —the creation of a device that can ensure the use of inter-dimensional travel– is meant to happen in every universe. It’s canon, which is a term we spider’s use to explain various moments in our lives that have to happen.”

“Like a prophecy?”

“Sort of, yeah. Each of us have a set story that’s meant to be followed in some way. The spider bite, ASM-90, the tragic passing of a family member…” He trails off for a moment, looking at you, an air of guilt coating his features. “All of it has to happen for every universe to remain intact.”

When you go to look back at him, there’s a blooming of warmth that hits the side of your face, spreading throughout your cheeks and nose until it suddenly dissipates and you’re left watching your brother get slammed into the ground. Then suddenly, the room is filled with pained groans and angry grunts, the flashing of limbs struggling against each other making you realize that this was a mistake. That you were never meant to house this information.

As nothing more than a human, all you were meant to do was stand by and watch as the chapters of Peter’s predicted life unfolded around him. You were meant to turn a blind eye. To pretend that spider people were nothing more than vigilantes and that the secrets your brother withheld were for your own good.

You know now, watching him fight against Miguel’s heavy hands, that he was right about all of this. And that this is your fault. That you’re the reason the ground beneath him is breaking apart and there’s blood spurting from his mouth and nose.

“Miguel, stop!”

You scream louder than you ever thought possible as you rush to your brother’s aid, witnessing the onslaught of scratches and punches he receives. As you get closer, you see no signs of Miguel stopping so you stupidly reach out to grab his arm, earning yourself an elbow to the temple that you barely register through the adrenaline.

“I thought I told you not to tell her,” Miguel says through clenched teeth, ignoring your hands and how they claw at his back through his suit.

“Says you, asshole!”

You don’t expect Peter to reply, so when you hear your voice you stop for a moment, jumping at the presence of hands that quickly pull you away.

“Sorry, uh, just… stand here for a second,” Riley says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, making you thankful because as much as you’d like to help you can’t do anything. You’re not a superhero nor do you have a retractable hockey stick that you can use to smash Miguel in the back of the head.

“You know, if we were on the rink you’d make the perfect goon,” she says, doing just that; using enough force to get him to stumble backwards.

“What does that even mean?” Scrambling to stand back up, Miguel groans and lunges for her, giving you enough time to rush over to Peter; he's heavily breathing, dripping in blood with his eyes closed.

Without even thinking you go in for a hug, hearing him moan in pain, prompting you to pull away and apologize.

“God, your boyfriend sucks,” he mumbles then, cringing as he pulls himself slowly out of the rubble before wiping the blood off his face.

If you were in any other situation you would have punched him for saying that. But considering he looks like he’s already knocking on death’s door you settle for an eye roll that stops midway, noticing the ongoing fight.

Both of them are up in the air, swinging back and forth to meet in the middle. Miguel reaches out to claw Riley’s webs but misses as she leaps off her tether and knocks him in the face again, sending him toward the floor.

“Goal!”

Peter, despite the shape he’s in, lets out a laugh and stands up, moving to stretch his limbs before shooting a web into Miguel’s chest. When it attaches directly at the centre of his solar plexus, Peter shoots another web towards the roof and begins swinging in circles, using the movement to begin wrapping Miguel in layers and layers of webs.

Following suit, Riley does the same thing, both of them floating around like a carousel until Miguel’s struggling against his newfound prison, loudly cussing them out in Spanish.

It’s quite the sight, seeing his seething form so suppressed. His nostrils flare out in heavy puffs as he stares at the three of you; his eyes narrowed eyes darting around until they land on you. Ever so quietly he says your name then, trying to ground himself through the rage that refuses to go away.

A part of you wants to move in closer —to tell him that everything is going to be okay— but deep down you know that isn’t true. Miguel came here with the intention of keeping this from you and having come this far you’ll be damned if you let that happen. No matter how wrong you know it is.

“Please, if you’d just listen.”

The way his mask fades away when he looks at you tells you he already knows this. As the moments pass, his expression turns from angry to anxious, his brows softening under the dim lights, casting shadows over his skin that make you frown and turn to Peter.

“Can you give us a sec?”

He’s hesitant at first but ultimately gives in, telling you that he and Riley will be outside before he plants a soft kiss to your injured temple and leaves.

“I'm sorry, I just—“

You barely give him enough time to explain before you're wrapping yourself around him. Your arms, tightly wound around his neck shake with a fear you’ve never known as you borrow your face into the crook of his neck, breathing so hard you think you might pass out.

“I hate you,” you lie, moving to press your nose into his throat.

“I know.”

You place the softest kiss on his Adam’s apple, feeling it vibrate beneath your lips. “I hate everything you stand for. I hate your secrets and your rules and your stupid society.”

“I know.”

Your forehead is firmly pressed against his chin as he says this, the breath of his voice bouncing off your skin in hot puffs that are swiftly replaced by his lips. Gently, he then places kiss after kiss across the expanse of your skin, ignoring the fact that you hate him. Ignoring the fact that he’s completely unworthy of everything that you’re offering him at this moment. Ignoring the way you glare at the decal of his suit with such an unbound rage you want to rip it apart.

“I don’t understand how talking about the canon breaks the canon.”

His lips freeze against your face before he pulls away with a groan, realizing that you know. “It doesn’t.”

“So—“

“The multiversal timeline is delicate.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” you snap, moving away to look him in the eye.

“Anything that deviates from it constitutes as a direct violation of the canon,” he explains, glancing down to watch you scrunch up your face in annoyance. “You know if I actually put in the effort I could break out of here and easily kick your ass?”

“Says the man who lost to a hockey stick.” Fighting the urge to laugh, you press your forehead against his chest, feeling the air enter and exit his lungs.

“It’s not a hockey stick. It’s a fucking titanium bar shaped to look like one.”

“Still.”

The silence that falls over you after that is hard to navigate. You want to talk to him —to ask him more questions so that all of this can be over, but obviously, you know that’s not how it works. One complicated conversation doesn’t lead to an end. It just leads to more complicated conversations. That’s how life works, no matter what universe you’re in, and it sucks.

And it hurts, realizing that no matter how this plays out that Miguel and you can never happen. Sure, he’s never explicitly said it. The words we could never be have never been said or heard between either of you, but you know that’s how this ends. He tells you, he leaves. He doesn’t tell you, he still leaves.

It’s not fair.

“How come this can’t work?”

The question flies out of your mouth before you can even begin to suppress it, causing Miguel to widen his eyes and turn away, almost embarrassed.

“How come you get to go on living life knowing everything that’s ever happened between us in every single universe until the end of time while I have to sit here, pretending to know nothing until I forget?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you pull away, glaring at his chest and hands and face as you stand up. “Why does me knowing what we could’ve had mess with the canon? Huh? What part do I play? Is it because of that stupid battery? Is it because I’m the cause of this that you won’t talk to me?”

He’s staring at the floor now, completely avoiding your eyes and mouth and hands as they continue to ask all the questions he’s never wanted to answer.

“Did I do something to upset you? Did I fuck up your life or something because, Miguel, I don’t fucking know until you tell me!”

You’re crying now. The tears you’ve been holding on to since he pushed you through that portal are falling. Crashing onto the floor in small puddles that hit your knees when you inevitably drop back down. Throughout your frame there’s a rush of pain as you hit the ground and lean forward, pressing your elbows against the space in front of you as you curl into a ball, wishing that he’d say something.

When he doesn’t, you cry more, your body breaking under the pressure of understanding that this is all you’ll get.

It’s obvious then that Miguel isn’t a good man. He doesn’t care for you in the way you deserve. He just wants you. Or more so, this idea of you that he’s formed at the back of his head. To him, you’re nothing more than a temptation he’s created over time. A familiar body surrounding a completely different soul that’ll he always long for.

As you realize this you can hear ripping followed shuffles that grow closer until they’re wrapped around you, pulling you into a chest you wish to crawl inside for all eternity.

“I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you everything, just… please don’t cry. Please.”

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