#she gets a new job. she’s getting busier

[whimsydingbat]

…

if you read this and the first post, I sincerely apologize. you’re getting a hard look at the deepest recesses of my mind, open agape and oozing my most vulnerable thoughts I could ever reveal. they’re words that I need to be said, written. I find I don’t ever learn my lesson unless I talk about it. so, I hope those who care enough to read are receptive.

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces (Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Part 1 of who knows how many parts :)

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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

The heavy sound of rain flood the streets of Nueva York. The dim street lights felt faded as the mist blocked their glow. Despite the downpour that washed the streets, the stench of blood still lingered. A foul odor that could never truly be cleaned from this city.

Nueva York was riddled with crime. Each part of the city was owned and govern by their own mafia. Drugs, alcohol and fights were always a topic and always a cause to stay indoors. Only the smart stayed away from the mafia. They were the ones to survive this city unscathed. They were the ones to avoid trouble.

You had just moved into the city, unaware of its true face, nor did you really have a choice. You were desperate to get away from your old life. Despite for a fresh start. So much so, that you landed in one of the worst parts of the city. The place you rented was small, but it was enough to keep you hidden.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you near cried at the sight of a roach. Tears threaten to spill as you sprayed the roach spray against the foul creature for dear life. You had just moved into the place. You were warned by your friends and family of the filth of the city, but they didn't know anything. They didn't know the pain you were in.

"Ew, ew!" You whined as you grabbed the broom, throwing the roach away.

Once you were freed from that horrid task, you continued to clean and unpack. You double checked everything for roaches and mice, wanting to sleep soundly for once. You shuddered at the thought as you pulled out old photographs of your high school days. Within those pictures was the cause of your depature.

Your ex.

You had fled your hometown due to your abusive ex-boyfriend, Eddie Brock. The man was so kind to you at first, treating you well until you officially started dating. Your college life was cut short due to his beatings and yelling. You were always at fault. You could never be good enough for him. You were always the problem.

The thought made you sob. You moved to this city on a whim thanks to your small job. You just wanted to stop living in that hell. Everyone loved your ex. They never truly saw what he was. They never even asked how you were.

"I-I need to s-stop crying." You whispered to yourself as you looked out the window, "I-I have work tomorrow. I...I need to be ready."

-----------

Meanwhile, a few blocks over, Miguel was sitting before his large patio, watching the rain. He held a glass of vodka in his hand, watching the lightening brighten the sky more than the city lights itself. He inhaled to the loud roar of thunder before being interrupted by a knock at his door.

"Que? (What)" He hissed lowly. Lyla smiled as she walked over with a folder, placing them on his desk,

"Just something for the morning." She chirped and approached the door, "There's another one waiting outside. Shall I send her in?"

"Ha, and get some fake praises. She can only come in if she wants a quick fuck. I won't deal with gold diggers." Miguel grumbled.

Lyla just hummed in response before shutting the door. Miguel could only groan in annoyance as he placed his glass down. His night would have been better off alone. Closing the blinds to his patio, Miguel approached his desk to the file. It was going to be another long day tomorrow.

---------

There was a scurry to your step as you tried to please your new boss. It was your first day working in the chain supermarket, and you were stressed. This version of your old job was far busier, louder and ruder than what you were used to. You were a shy and quiet person, so having so many people yell and pull you around was breaking you.

"(Y/N)! Deli needs a hand, you ever did that?" One of your coworkers asked. You flinched at the sudden yell,

"I-I have helped packaged an-"

"Good enough, go help and put a kick in it!"

You just agreed and hurried to the deli. You grabbed a hair net and gasped lowly at your fellow coworkers there. They were all so tall and mean looking. You were like a deer in headlights the moment they saw you enter their kitchen. You just bowed your head slightly and quietly made your way to the meat wrapping station.

"Why'd they put her here? She don't know anything yet," One of the taller men whispered. You're ears perked up since whispers weren't exactly in their volcabulary,

"She's a scaredy cat. Ain't nothing comin' outta her mouth. Same like the rest of us,"

You wanted to ask them what they were talking about, but you were too scared to find out. That, and you learned the harsh lesson of minding your own business. Dear ol' Eddie gave you that cruel lesson. Shaking your head at the thought, you didn't want to be known as the employee who cried on their first day.

"Hey, new kid," One of your coworkers called out, approaching you, "Yer new here, so let me warn you. We got three freezers in the deli. One is full of the fresh meat we get. Leave that to us big guys. You can enter the second freezer with the small cuts for the customers. The third freezer, you never enter. Don't ask questions about it. Don't peak into it. Just pretend it never exists. Oh, and don't make eye contact with those who enter it."

"Okay,"

Hell fucking no. You were going to stay far away from dear freezer number three. That was a lot more information than you even wanted to hear. Hell, you weren't a fan of entering freezer number two. Once your coworkers were reassured by your understanding, they returned to work.

Your hands trembled over your station as you tried to focus on your job with the seven men yelling around you. This was your sad new life. You had to get used to this. You were either going to make it in the city or die trying.

--------

Miguel lazily glanced out his window seat, spotting the upcoming supermarket. There was a rumble in his throat as he leaned back in his seat. His men tailing behind him in different cars. Miguel told his driver to stop, wanting to walk the rest of the way while his men parked around back.

"Peter, take our guest into the freezer. I'm going to make a pit stop at the deli," Miguel said over the phone.

"Miguel, we talked about this. You're the boss, let us handle the work." Peter tried reasoning over the phone.

Miguel wasn't even paying attention. He hung up and proceeded to enter the supermarket. His presence alone made the managers cower and the workers silent. Of course, none of the regular customers knew anything. None of them suspected that he, Miguel O'Hara, CEO of Alchemax, was the leader of the Spider Mafia. One of the biggest and ruthless mafia in town.

"The usual?" One of the deli men questioned. Miguel glanced over his shoulder, noticing you shaking like a leaf while avoiding your coworkers,

"And they say I'm cruel. New hire?"

"Transfer from out of town," The man replied.

Miguel raised a brow towards you. You were pale in the face as you apologized for getting in people's way. Miguel couldn't help but snort. It was cute. Something he was not used too. Returning his attention to the deli worker, Miguel could only smirk as he watched his men drag their guest into freezer number three.

"The bird needs to be plucked." Was all Miguel said for the man to understand.

-------

You whimpered softly as you moved away from everyone's path. It had gotten far too busy for your liking. Once you caught a break, you noticed the deli supervisor talking to a handsome man. You tilted your head, stealing a glance. The man was tall and gorgeous. He wore a slick all black suit. Something very fancy for this part of town.

The man took notice of you and smiled. Your cheeks immediately started to heat up as you quickly returned to your job. As you did, you noticed some men enter the third freezer. You paled instantly. It was your first day! Biting you lower lip, you tried to focus on your work. Right as you did, you noticed the handsome man from earlier walk by you and towards the freezer,

"Keep up the good work, conejita (bunny)." He whispered.

You felt your heart race as the door shut. His voice was so deep and low. If only he hadn't entered the freezer. Perhaps, you would have gotten to know him as a regular.

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

Next Chapter!

[puzzled-pegasus]

Do you ever just think about how awful it is to be a demigod before you know about it?

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. How much demigod kids and teenagers don't fit in with mortal society. Their mortal parents don't know what to do with them, even if they do care for them immensely. They are labeled as troublemakers, as bad kids, as mentally ill, as freaks and monsters who see things they shouldn't see and have an aversion to authority that they shouldn't have and a strong sense of justice and an inability to sit still, read, play, act, feel normally. Percy got in trouble for getting into fights, for speaking impulsively, he was mocked and spoken down to and expelled from lots of schools who couldn't handle him and he didn't know why until he was twelve years old. Sally wasn't able to tell him why.

Annabeth was the product of her father's relationship with a goddess, and he loved her for a while, but she wasn't a normal kid. When he fell in love with a mortal and Annabeth didn't get along with her or her kids, he chose the mortal side. How could he understand Annabeth's side? She was just a badly behaved kid, while his new wife and children were the normal good ones.

Jason always knew he was a demigod, he was accepted and praised and tons of expectations were placed on him from a frighteningly young age. Part of the reason the others resent him and see him as a sort of golden child is because he was placed on a pedestal and he will never, ever know what it was like for all of his friends to be looked down on as children, to be scolded for things they didn't understand and told that the things they saw and experienced constantly were not real.

Piper was always loved by her father but I think he loved the idea of her, he loved that she reminded him of the beautiful woman he met years ago. He was always kind to her and usually gave her things she wanted, but he couldn't always spend time with her as his job got busier. Piper sensed that her father's attention was occupied by something else, and as he got busier, she felt less supported and stole things and got in fights and her dad didn't know what to do with her after the BMW so she was sent to a troubled teen program where she was bullied for her disabilities and her race.

Leo feared his power because it killed the person he loved the most, and after that, everything in his life was hell. He didn't feel safe anywhere, he didn't have anyone he could trust, and adults saw him as a troublemaker who would never amount to anything.

The books don't emphasize these things as much with any of the other demigods, or maybe Annabeth, Percy, Piper, and Leo are the best examples we have. I just. They're so tragic. They're all my children all of them. I love them and I feel so sad for them

[ladyelissarose]

I love your fics! Can i please have a Miguel O'hara x Fem Reader where she bumps into a abusive ex and she gets scared/uncomfortable. So Miguel being the protective and territorial person he is steps in and handles the situation (maybe even fights the guy), and Miguel gets all sappy and soft letting her know he loves her and will protect her always. Fluff plzUwU

‘Protector’

Miguel O’Hara x girlfriend reader

Warnings; 4k!! mentions of abusive ex, sad flashbacks that involve some violence. Like *Choking and screaming* Little bit of angst, panic attacks mentioned too. But I squeezed in more fluff than y’all can imagine! Please be careful with what you want to read. Enjoy

Summary; after not being in a relationship for over a few months, you start to try again with an adorable scientist, Miguel O’Hara. Overall he seems very sweet and kind at the start of your growing relationship, but you can’t help but worry he might be like you ex. Until one day he proves to be the total opposite.

Author’s note: Hiiii love!!! Thank you for this request!! I’m so happy I got one! So I hope this meets your expectations, let me know :) much love and hugs!!

Diing Diing!

The clanking bells alarmed you that a customer had just walked into the large 3-story library you work at in New York City. A smile went up your face as you waved and greeted a couple of college girls who passed by with smiles and their little coffees.

This library in particular was special to you, it had a great view of the magnificent city, many customers came by and 99% of the time found what they needed, it was a place of a new fresh start after leaving an abusive relationship, and better than all of those things aforementioned, it was the place where you found Miguel O’Hara, your new boyfriend.

Miguel was a scientist, he worked at Alchemax and came by often to the library to retrieve books he needed for his job. He was always a regular customer as your boss had mentioned, but he said he came by more often when you started working there everyday.

Which was true, you saw him very often, maybe 8 times in a span of 5 days, he walked in and out with a new scientific book or one about chemicals, and you’d be the one to check them out.

It wasn’t hard to miss him when he walked in, he had a broad form and looked very different from the rest- oh and he always wore that white coat that made his arms bulge out more than they should, and really shape his V back perfectly.

Every time his curly jet black hair was always combed back with his calloused fingers as he would approach the front desk and ask you how your day was, even if you had seen him earlier that morning.

Flashback-

“Hi! I-uh.. came to get these checked out... how’s your day been- like so far?”

You beamed a smile at his sorta shyness, which wasn’t normal for him. He wasn’t particularly hyper and such, but his speech was always confidently spoken. Nonetheless you took the 1000 paged book about Chemistry and scanned it while responding,

“It’s been a little busier, now that college started for the kiddos, they’ve been in and out of here like crazy. But overall good.”

His warm brown eyes hadn’t met yours as one of his hands were stuffed in his pockets and the other inched for the book in your hand, but he smiled and replied,

“Oh that’s nice, just don’t.. uh overwork yourself corazo- ma’am.”

You giggled while putting the book in its paper bag while suggesting,

“You can call me corazen- Is that how you say it?”

Miguel finally let his eyes look at you and you could see he held a slight uncertainty, but he did correct you kindly,

“It’s corazon.. i-it means ‘heart’.”

‘Awww... that’s so sweet... Damien would have never said that.’

Warmth filled your insides and you could’ve bet a million dollars that your cheeks were beet red, it wasn’t a doubt you found this mountain of a man absolutely adorable like a puppy, and extremely hot. You slid the book in a paper bag towards him carefully and added,

“Well thank you for correcting me-“

You then read his tag and went on,

“Dr.O’Hara... would you like anything else?”

For a second time his eyes locked on yours, and he took a deep breath before rapidly taking out his hand out from his pocket. You gasped lowly and flinched back at the action, your eyes wide. But Miguel caught your action and felt guilty for scaring you, and comforted you immediately with his words,

“Sorry! Umm.. ay coño.. just call me Miguel.. and.. would you like to go out at some time?”

You were now a couple feet away from the desk, but when you saw the little paper he had put out on top, you slowly came back.

A frown made a small line between his eyebrows, you too felt back for scaring away, but you couldn’t help but have that kind of reflex to certain gestures. You couldn’t meet his eyes after what you did, but his gentle voice gave you a slight confirmation that it was ok,

“Corazon?... it’s ok if you can’t-“

“I can! Yes.. yes... I’m sorry-“

“Please don’t be.. it was me that was weird then-“

“You’re not weird I swear... I was the one that acted dramatically-“

“You’re perfect.. I swear that you are.”

Honesty and adoration was read all over him, something you’ve never seen in another man but could detect. With a warm smile you made the move to agree with him, though you were hoping he was right.

“Ok...”

Miguel first smiled then wore a frown with a question,

“Ok.. as in the date or-“

You quickly quipped,

“Is it too much to ask for both?”

With a shake to his head Miguel tapped the table and took his bag,

“For you? Not at all corazon.. at 6 tomorrow.. because you clock out at 5 right?”

In surprise at how he knew when you got off of work had you smiling a bit brighter, as you couldn’t remember the last time someone remembered something so small about you.

“Yes! Ah.. thanks for noticing, and giving me time.”

With a wink and a last wave Miguel sweetly promised,

“You’re worth all my time.”

End of flashback-

You never thought that being 6 months into your new relationship would be leading after that first date with Miguel.

And you have never been happier than ever. He was the absolute most gentle person ever, he never lifted his voice and was calm in every situation. He was the total opposite of what you dragged yourself into with your last relationship... which was toxic and abusive.

Damien was the asshole’s name, and with him, degrading words were always shouted at you, new bruises would appear around your wrists or neck every time he got angry, your lipstick was never smeared from being kissed and loved... instead your mascara was always messed up and painted teary lines down your cheeks.

You’d flinch when a voice was raised higher than normal or you’d panic for a second at someone moving too fast towards you. As in the past Damien would scream at you endlessly and out of no where sprint towards you to lay his hands on you to hurt you. But now as you had run away from him and started a whole new life far away- as so you thought.

You worked hard to be more normal and confident, and read people and understand that some moved the same way but had different actions and intentions behind them.

Like when Miguel would reach suddenly to brush your hair behind your ear, you had to learn that he was caring for you, and not going to choke you. Or when he’d come from behind you to hug you, day by day you grew to accept how he was loving on you and not going to drag you away to hurt you.

So little things like that, you were trying to give a chance to think differently of, so you could heal. And to not say the least, but Miguel had seen the trauma you were in from when you first dated, he had seen and heard how you asked for reassurance on everything you did, and even apologized your heart out when you accidentally laughed a little louder at a funny moment, or when a drop of coffee landed on his shirt, face filled with dread and worry at what he’d say or do to you.

But ever sense that night, Miguel swore on his life that he’d never let you go, and that he’d protect you forever from whoever would want to cause you harm. And he also knew, that if he ever ran into your ex, it’d be the last time he ever did.

—————-

Diiiin Diiing!!

The library was already close to closing time, so when you heard the ding, you called out to let them know,

“Hi! Welcome to-“

In horror you dropped the books you were holding, letting them crash onto the floor and even allowing the hard cover book land on its corner onto your foot. The day you hoped would never come, finally came.

In all his wicked glory, stood your ex, Damien, at your counter. With an erratic heartbeat and shaky hands you moved down to the floor to pick up the books, feeling like the helpless little girl you were when he had you. Fear wasn’t enough to describe what had you losing your breath and movement, as venom came out of his mouth.

“Wow.. even after all this time your still a clumsy bitch huh? Pathetic.”

Words cut sharp like knives at your heart and you could feel how deep into your gut that tossed stone of words went. Instantly it was like if you went to robotic mode with him, like if he had control over you. His black eyes bore into your now glossy eyes as you fixed the books on the counter and replied with a stutter,

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop it- it was an accident-“

“An accident like how you dropped your coffee on my shoes or how you step on my brand new shoes at your cousins wedding? You’re an accident. A mistake- like how’d you even get the job?”

Shrugging slowly was all you could muster, words hanging in your throat. But a harsh slam of his hand hitting against the counter had you jump and responding verbally,

“I-I’m not sure.. my boss thinks I’m efficient and qu-quick.”

And in that moment you had a very quick slip up in your mind, making you scold yourself and remember Miguel’s words, which were honest and uplifting,

‘Don’t be weak!! Remember what Miguel said- Never let anyone tell you you’re not good enough at what you do. You’re perfect and strong, stand up for it.’

You then took a deep breath and said forwardly,

“I’m good enough for this. So just- just please leave me alone.”

A dry laugh met your ears along with more degrading words,

“You’ll never get it huh? No matter what you do without me you’ll never be good enough. I gave you power-“

He gave you the power of fear, fearing all the time, the power of tears, that you cried every night after a scandal he put up. So you worded confidently,

“No you didn’t. You were toxic and abusive. The only power you gave me was to fear you.. but that’s over. Now go-“

You tired really tried your best to stand strong, but it didn’t work out well and it opened old wounds when he dared to raise his voice and slam his hand on the counter again,

Bam!!

“TOXIC?! Wow! Look at you calling the kettle black little girl. You see, you were the toxic one for always disobeying me and saying ‘no’. You were toxic for not letting me love you like I wanted to- I TRIED OK? I did! That you didn’t like rough and all was your little immature and weakling problem, but that’s what happens when you don’t play nice with your daddy.”

Internally you bled as he slashed you open with every word and movement, making you feel less and less like the person you had become.

Miguel’s words fading in your mind as Damien added a new one and went on like a broken record. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you let it out as a gasp when he slammed his hand again and demanded your attention,

“HEY! Aren’t you listening?! Do I have to hit the side of your head so it clicks? Don’t you remember how well that method worked?!”

Diiiing Diiiing!!

Miguel had just walked in with your favorite dinner meal from the coffee shop near by, carrying his on the other hand so he could join you for his little break too.

Just as you had dropped your stuff in fear, so did he.. but he felt a deep concern instead. He witnessed a man half his size tower over the counter and lean towards you with an accusing finger, shoulders visibly moving in aggression.

But what choked his air was your face- oh god how he hated the look of fear on you, it was as if death was standing before you. Miguel immediately walked up and called out to you first, not wanting to scare the man and cause more to happen, as he didn’t know what was up with him.

“Amor? What’s going on?”

The man whipped his head towards Miguel and only smirked at him and said to him while still staring deeply,

“Sir you’ll have to come back later-“

Huffing in disbelief at this guy’s audacity, Miguel turned his attention back to you and saw tears coming down your eyes, making him ask right away,

“Amor, what did he do to you?”

Blocking you with his body Damien bit,

“Why are you assuming I did something wrong?”

At seeing your teary eyes and wet cheeks, Miguel instantly grew defensive and very angry at the man that stood in front of you being an asshole. Miguel knew by his tone that he had probably done something to you, and that only made him more furious... until it clicked for him, who he was.

‘That’s the bitch.. Damien. Mierda.. your so going to wish you never walked in here.’

With an authoritative voice Miguel called out to you,

“Go to the back, and don’t come out.”

He wouldn’t want you to see the ugly side of him that came out when he defended those he’d kill for. He wouldn’t want you to accidentally translate his harshness towards enemies as that he could probably hurt you too with those same hands. No, he o my wanted you to see and know that his hands would only show love and care to you.

So you taking the chance that you knew Miguel wouldn’t dare let Damien come after you, you ran to the back immediately and didn’t look back. Knowing you’d probably pass out from seeing more of the monster that hurt you so much.

———

Miguel back up front then cracked his knuckles and threatened,

“And you, step away from the counter-“

“Why should I? I haven’t done anything to her-“

“And you won’t, ever again. Now I suggest you go and leave her alone-“

“And what are you going to do if I don’t huh? You think I’m scared-“

“Que idiota... You will be. The only fighting you know is how to hit women... try hitting me. I dare you.”

Thinking Miguel wouldn’t try anything, as he was a much larger man, Damien stupidly went at him. But being Spider-Man in disguise had its perks to self defense and fighting skills. So reaching close enough to him, Miguel then side stepped and watched Damien fall forward, hence letting him catch his back collar and slam him to the ground.

Breath knocked out of his lungs at the single action had Damien laying on the ground trying to catch air, but Miguel refused it to him when he hovered over him and held onto his neck tightly with one hand, constricting the airway.

“Thought you liked choking? And pain?”

Damien’s face turned red and Miguel’s heart pinched at the thought of his love and life being in this painful position, because of this low life monster under him. It only made him growl and add to the fire and squeeze harder, not caring about how Damien silently cried for release,

“Hm? Hijo de puta.. vete al carajo... and never come back. If not I’ll make sure you never do.”

And with that Miguel slammed his back one last time to the ground, ignoring the small crack he heard, and then got up, lastly spitting out in a loud voice,

“Now get the hell out! I don’t want to see you around her ever again!!”

Like a cowered dog Damien scurried away, running out the door and going far off, not caring about the weird looks people gave him for how crazy and scared he looked.

Miguel didn’t give him a second thought before darting towards the back room to get you. When he approached the door he knew it’d be locked, so he knocked gently and called out,

“Amor? It’s me.. Miguel. Can you open up?”

Sniffles and hard gasps were heard on the other side, causing him to freak out a bit and call to you again,

“Baby it’s ok. Amor I’m here and it’s safe-“

“I-Is he gone??”

Miguel could hear your short breaths between words and he could feel it in his gut that you were hitting panic mode. So as soft as possible he tried to tell you,

“Yes amor.. he’s gone. I promise, open the door por favor.. I want to see you.”

Silence filled the room a bit. It he then heard the smallest-

click!

As always Miguel never degraded you but instead praised you, even for the smallest things, like unlocking the door.

“Gracias amor, good job baby.”

Slowly he opened it and his heart ripped apart at the sight of your cowered form in the corner of the closet, breath hitching and your small hands trying to wipe away the large tears that rained down on your stained cheeks. With his arms opened to you Miguel did his best to word out everything and let you know what he’d do beforehand,

“Ok amor, I’m going to come to walk to you... can I touch you-“

Your hand inched for him as you whimpered,

“I can- I can’t breathe. hel-p me.”

Hearing you hiccuping for air had Miguel grabbing your face gently, pulling you towards him slowly as he tried to talk you through it to calm you down,

“You’re ok amor. Respira.”

His hand laid on your heart as he led yours to lay on his, he wanted you to work on matching your breathing with is. His other hand held the back of your neck gently and leaned your forehead on his as he went on praising and comforting,

“Just like that amor, breathe. You’re doing so well-“

“I feel so sc-scared.. like if it’s all in my throat-“

“I know amor-“

“I didn’t know what to-to do-“

“It’s not your fault-“

You tried to push away and bury yourself in dark thoughts of untruth,

“But it is! I let him... how could you lo-love someone like me that folds- Mmph!!”

Miguel wouldn’t have it, he loved you too much to let you drown in hurtful thoughts, so to silence your head and words, he had pulled you in for a deep kiss.

Instantly it had helped you stopped thinking crap about yourself and doubt everything with Miguel, and it helped you calm your breathing as you felt him move his lips against yours softly yet firmly. Your hands wrapped around his neck and brought him back closer to you, not wanting to let go. Miguel then pulled away, but only enough to mumble coherently,

“I love you *kiss* and you’re safe *kiss* I won’t hurt you *kissssss* I got you amor *kiss kiss* I’m not going anywhere without you *kiss*.”

The kisses in between confirmations had calmed you down right away, feeling his hands embrace you and run over your arms and waist gently had got you to stop fidgeting as well. With a one last kiss to your head, Miguel slowly stood up, helping you stand as his arms wrapped around you, he then suggested to you,

“Let’s go home amor, c’mere. Tomorrow’s your day off anyways and we can get up late to and rest.”

You were about to walk out in hand with him, but Miguel had different plans as he was feeling still protective over you and wanted you close. He crouched down a bit and worded,

“Jump and wrap your legs around me-“

“Mig-“

“It’s ok amor, don’t worry about anything.. I got you.”

No more doubt rested in you at the thought of him carrying you, so you gladly accepted and jumped in his arms. You looked small in his arms, but you felt so safe and secure as one of his large arms held you up. He grabbed your bags of food and let you hold them as he helped you clock out and lock up.

Your head rested in his neck as your arms wrapped around him, when he had taken off his coat to drape over you. He didn’t mind to walk you home to your apartment that was two blocks away, as long as you were with him he was content.

Once home you both ate comfortably and soon were cuddling in bed, Miguel the whole time held you close and promised to keep you safe, letting you know that you’d never see your ex again, and when you asked how that would be possible, he stated,

“Just let me take care of it Amor... you’ll be ok. Now rest baby.. I’ll be here with you in the morning.. I texted my boss that I won’t be coming in. So sleep amor.”

You lifted your head off his chest and pecked his lips as you thanked him,

“Thank you... for everything. I don’t deserve you-“

Miguel held your cheek and insisted,

“You deserve all of me and more.. and I’ll remind you everyday until you believe it.”

He kissed away your tears and kissed you once more as you nodded,

“Ok... I love you.”

“I love you so much more. Te voy a amar... por siempre.”

And with that you had passed out in his arms, cuddled close to his chest, your heart beats synchronizing as one.

Miguel made sure you had passed out deeply, before sliding out of bed and kissing you back to sleep as he covered you completely and made sure you were ok, before leaving the place. He had a promise to keep, and he intended to do it as fast as possible.

—————-

“He’s yours.”

Officer Jefferson Davis looked at Miguel with a frown as he saw the beat up Damien in who he knew as Spider-Man 2099’s hands. Jefferson grabbed Damien and asked,

“Well what did this punching bag do?”

Damien cried pathetically as he tried to reach for Miguel,

“He’s crazy! I didn’t do anything! Aren’t you supposed to fight villains and not civilians?!?”

Miguel stood tall and interrupted him,

“You harassed the library lady today, and threatened to hurt her. Villains hurt people.. and you like to hurt women.. so that makes you a villain. And I’m not going to let that happen.”

Jefferson nodded his head in agreement and replied to Spider-Man,

“That’s good enough to lock him up for a while-“

He then pulled Damien towards an Officer as he added,

“-you look like the kind of loser that pulls those stunts- damn my wife would beat your ass. Get him in cuffs and to the station. He doesn’t deserve a hospital-“

“But I think he broke my arms!-“

Jefferson rolled his eyes and huffed,

“Good! Now you’ll have another reason why to not hit women!”

Once he was dragged away, he went to thank Spider-Man,

“I appreciate this. It’s hard to catch these guys sometimes, but I’m glad you keep an eye out for them and for the community.”

Shaking his hand Miguel responded,

“It’s not a problem.. just.. just keep in him there for the longest time you can.”

Jefferson understood without needing more, so he promised,

“I’ll make sure of that. Now I need to go make sure that happens-“

With a salute Miguel bid,

“You do that Sir. Have a goodnight.”

Saluting back Jefferson smiled,

“You too Spider-Man.”

Back at home, and in your arms, Miguel smiled to himself at seeing your peaceful self, knowing you wouldn’t be hurt by Damien ever again. Softly he placed a kiss on your cheek and whispered,

“He won’t hurt you again.. te amo.”

Now he held you close to him and soon fell asleep to the sound of your breathing and warmth against him. Both of you sleeping soundly in peace and security.

Spanish translations:

Corazon- heart

Te voy a amar por siempre- I’ll love you forever

Que idiota- what an idiot

Hijo de puta- son of a bitch

Vete al carajo- go to hell

Respira- breathe

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Happily Never After

Part 2 of Holiday Compromise

Summary: With your company expanding and dealing with your parents trying to get a hold of you, your plan to purpose to Wanda has been put on hold.

Note: Their will be MAJOR spoilers in the warnings.

Warnings: implied sex, nudity and non sexual nudity, drinking, stalking, threatening message, kidnapping, reader is a simp for Wanda and the boys, Vision is a decent man, talk of past trauma.

Word Count: 9.7k

"Have you asked her yet?" You looked up from your computer to see Natasha enter the conference room. Her arms were filled with her travel mug, breakfast, and laptop. She sighed when everything was out of her hands. She opened the brown paper bag, pulled out a breakfast sandwich, and handed it to you. You thanked her with a smile, but her question caught up with you.

"If I asked her to marry me, wouldn't you be the first to know?" You opened your food and took a bit, moaning at the taste. "That was stupid," it was a little muffled from the bagel in your mouth. Your comment received a quick slap to the back of your head. "Ouch," you whine, mouth full of food. You slapped her back, and she was quick to attack.

"Children," Yelena warned as she entered the room, followed by Shuri and Bucky. "Enough," Natasha mumbled something you missed in Russian and angrily sipped on her coffee. You laughed at her dramatic behavior and felt a little bad for Yelena. The blonde had to deal with you and Natasha as kids. Nine times out of ten, it ended up in a fight. "Can I see the ring?"

You smiled, took it out of your pocket, and slipped it across the table for the blonde to see. You bought it two days after the vacation with the family of three while Wanda was at work and the twins were at Vision's. It was a three-diamond ring from Tiffany's. The stones were pear-shaped. The ring was simple but flashy. You wanted to woo her. That was three months ago, and it was almost May.

Once Yelena was done, she handed it to Shuri. "I'm surprised you haven't lost it," Shuri teased and gave it to Bucky.

"Not a bad ring boss," he tossed it back to you and caught it. But Shuri is right," he said, taking his usual spot by the door. "You better pop the question before you lose it, or she finds it." Your team laughed.

"Why are you all picking on me?" You groaned. "I can fire all of you." Natasha chuckled.

"Please, your name is on the building, but everyone knows we run this company," you said, flipping the redhead off.

"Right, just remember I sign your checks each week," you deadpanned. "Let's go over any last-minute changes and questions we want to ask them." Your team was meeting with Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Bruce Banner of Stark Industries. When the holidays were over, an email from Pepper was in your inbox looking to form a business deal and collaborate with you. It was a dream come true to work with the Starks, and you wanted everything to go smoothly, which is one of the reasons why the ring was still with you and not on Wanda's finger. You were busy; if this meeting went well, you would be even busier.

You loved your job—making high-tech wearable devices like smartwatches, fitness trackers, and smart clothing. But at the end of the meeting, you were hoping to create a new line with Stark's AI system—FRIDAY. Wanda was supportive through it all, making you love her even more. She would ensure you were eating, drinking enough water, and spending time away from your desk. All of her actions made the ring feel heavier each day.

*

A gentle knock on your home office's door pulled you away from your paperwork. Much needed to be done since the deal was made with Stark Industries. It was Wanda, wearing one of your button-up shirts, and the sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. You were pretty sure she was speaking, but the only thought in your head was how good she looked. The shirt was barely long enough to cover her red underwear. Her bare feet closed the distance between you and her. Carefully, she maneuvered onto your desk and sat down on the space. She could have ruined months of work, but it wouldn't have mattered to you. "Darling," she cupped your face in both her hands. "I was talking."

"And I wasn't listening," you admitted and grabbed her right foot, digging your thumb in the soul as you kissed her ankle. "I was thinking how beautiful you are, but how sexy it would be for my bite marks to cover your thighs," you bite down on the inside of her thigh. A hiss turned into a quiet moan left your girlfriend's lip. "Tell me what you were saying, baby."

"The boys are finally asleep," you continued your assault, littering her thighs with hickies. "Maybe," a quiet moan left her lips so she wouldn't wake the twins. "Extreme ice cream sundaes on a school night was not a good idea," you smirked. That was your idea, wanting to celebrate the deal with them.

"I'm sorry," you stood up slowly, undoing the shirt's buttons. Groaning when you saw she wasn't wearing a bra. "Tell me how to make it up to you," you loved the goosebumps that covered her skin. She was so sensitive, you loved it. When she didn't respond, you kissed her cheek and down the column of her throat. A sharp bite sent her hands to grip your hair. "Tell me, baby, I won't ask again."

"I need," her voice shook. You could feel heat radiating off her skin. "I need you to make me cum." It was the consent you needed. You pulled her hips to the edge of your desk and knelt between her lips. The paperwork that the team required tomorrow was no longer important. All you wanted -no, all you needed was to make your woman cum. Over and over again.

*

You splashed the cold water on your face to clean off the face wash. You were trying to be quiet as Wanda was asleep in bed. She tried to stay up with you as you finished the rest of your work, but it was a battle you knew she wouldn't win. She fell asleep on the couch, and once you were done, you carried her to bed and got ready. You were exhausted. Your work was terrific and essential, but some days, it felt like your brain was melting and dripping out of your nose. Sighing, you pulled back the covers and were about to join your sleeping girlfriend until your phone rang. You quickly silenced it, jumping at the sound. Luckily, Wanda remained asleep. "Fucking hell," you whispered and looked at the caller ID.

It was a number you hadn't seen in a long time—three years, to be exact—your father. You felt frozen; all you could do was watch the call and go to voicemail. "Sweetheart," Wanda's voice brought you back to reality. Are you coming back to bed?"

"Yeah," you said, silencing your phone and plugging it back into the charger. When you lay down, Wanda immediately placed her head on your chest.

"What's wrong?" Her accent was always deeper when she was tired. You thought it was cute. "Your heart is racing." Dammit. You hated how much your family affected you.

"It's because I'm in the presence of a goddess," she pinched your side and moved to rest her chin on your chest. You seemed to get lost in the green of her eyes. "I'm okay, baby. Just got a lot on my mind at work." She squinted her eyes at you.

"We are a team, remember?" You smiled and nodded.

"I remember," she kissed you softly and placed her head in the crook of your neck. "Sleep, baby. I promise I'm okay."

*

There was only one knock on your door before it opened to reveal your secretary, Sarah. "You have a visitor," you glanced at the clock. It was around lunch, and Wanda texted you this morning to say she wanted to spend it with you. You waved her in and focused on the phone call with Tony.

"Look, all I'm saying is we could partner with Odinson and Laufeyson and cut the cost of materials. It's a win-win" It was innovative thinking, and expanding both companies with New Asgard would be amazing. You watched Wanda walk, still in her uniform and a food bag. “Brunnhilde owes me a favor. She could set up the meeting," your girlfriend sat in front of your desk. You put up one finger to tell her you were almost done. She nodded and pulled out the food she brought.

"Yeah, it's a smart idea," you glanced at your calendar. The twin's birthday was marked on it, and it was coming soon. You made a mental note to order their birthday presents so they would arrive on time. "See if you can do it in a few weeks. I'm a little swamped at the moment." you chuckled.

"I've been telling you, kid. You need to delegate and hire some interns," you rolled your eyes and pulled the phone away from your ear, sending a playful glare to Wanda as the billionaire went on a tangent. It's fair. It was on your to-do list. Wanda giggled.

"Tony, I love you and hear you," you cut him off. "But my girl is here and I want to have lunch with her. Can we table this for another time?" You liked the blush that covered Wanda's cheeks. The man laughed.

"Enjoy, kid. Remember, don't do anything I wouldn't do, which isn't saying a lot," you chuckled. The billionaire was insane, but he was also a great business partner.

"Bye, Stark," you hung up before he could say anything else. "Sorry, I think the man likes to hear himself talk." You opened the sandwich she brought for you.

"It's fine," Wanda smiled. "How's your day been?" So you told her about your day; the endless amount of meetings and phone calls was taking a toll on you. She suggested taking another short vacation, just you and her. "It would have to be after the twin's birthday. You know that is coming up, right?"

"How could I forget? It's marked in my calendar." You showed her your calendar. You wrote it in red and circled it so it would stand out, and you wouldn't forget.

"I have something to ask you," you hated her tone and the way she played with the rings on her finger. "It's on behalf of the boys." It made you feel a little better.

"Baby," you reached for her hand and squeezed it. "You can ask me anything."

"The boys want to have their birthday party at their father's house," that made sense. His house was bigger; he had a yard and a pool. It was the perfect spot for a middle school birthday party. You figured this was about spending their birthday on a different day. "They want you to come to the party," you dropped her hand in shock. They wanted you to attend a party at your current girlfriend's ex-husband's house with his girlfriend. Fuck no. Hell no. "I know it's a lot, and you do not need to make a decision now. I told them it may make you uncomfortable?"

"Does Vision know they want me there?" Wanda sighed.

"He does and," you gave her a look to continue. "He was okay with it as long as you are." You blinked at her a few times, mouth opened slightly.

"Come again. That man has not liked me from day 1." You weren't looking for his approval, but you wanted things to be civil. Unfortunately, he was the twin's father. Wanda took your hand.

"I think he's starting to realize you aren't going anywhere," Damn straight. You were here to stay. "It helps that the boys like you, and we may have had our differences, but he loves them." That you knew was true. A small part of you, the younger you, was jealous that Wanda and Vision could still be parents to the twins through their divorce. Their main priority was Billy and Tommy, unlike your parents, who prioritized themselves.

"I'll think about it," if they wanted you there, then you could consider it, but God, it would be awkward. You hated awkward situations.

"Thank you," she helped you clean up and walked her to your office door. "Are you staying late?" You nodded. She brought her fingers to your temple and rubbed them. You moaned and fell into her. Her laugh made you feel lighter. "Don't stay too late, okay? You need sleep."

"I know. I'll text you when I'm done," you kissed her softly. "I love you." It was such a simple three-letter word, but it made your heart soar every time. You wondered if you said it enough.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Please take care of yourself," she said, fixing the collar of your shirt. "The boys and I need you," you said, cupping her cheeks and brushing your nose against hers.

"I need you too. Always."

*     

It was late. So stupidly late that you were annoyed with yourself that you couldn't keep your promise to Wanda. There was one thing left to do on your to-do list. All you had to do was sign the contract Pepper sent over and send it back. However, your mind was so focused on what Wanda asked you that the words blurred today. So you opened a bottle of whiskey and poured yourself a glass. Soft jazz music played from the record player that Melina got you. "What the hell are you still doing here?" Natasha opened and closed your door. "Don't you have a woman keeping your bed warm?"

"I guess I could ask you the same thing," you said, grabbing an extra glass and filling it. "Instead of a woman, it's more like two strong and muscular men," she said, taking the full glass you offered.

"Are you jealous?" you cringed. Dating and sleeping with men were not your thing. "Come on, tell Mama Nat all of your troubles and how she can help," she sat down on your couch and flopped on the spot next to her.

"You can never say that in my presence. Keep that in the bedroom," the redhead threw her head back in a laugh.

"Come on, boss, what's going on?' You joined her on the couch with the bottle and your glass."

"My mind is all over the place. With the deal with Starks, Wanda asked me something, and-" You took a sip of your drink, stopping yourself from telling her about the phone call from your father.

"What happened between you and Wanda?" You sighed.

"The twin's birthday is coming up. No, you can not get them anything," she pouted in protest. "I'm still apologizing for the Christmas mess," she shrugged. "The party is at Vision's house, and they want me to go."

"Oh," Natasha let out a slow breath. "Shit," you laughed, finished your drink, and poured yourself another one. "So, do the boys want you there or Wanda?"

"The boys asked Wanda to ask me," you simplified. The redhead nodded. She was biting the inside of her cheek and moving the liquor in her glass.

"So you go," she shrugged. Your jaw dropped. Was she serious? She knew you hated awkward situations; you avoided them like the plague. "Look, it's huge. The boys want you there. It speaks volumes that they want you there to celebrate with them. You go for them."

"You make it sound so easy," you groaned, throwing your head back.

"Because it is," she flicked you on your cheek. "The twins love you. Everyone sees it. It's no surprise they want you there. Besides, if Vision gets on your nerves, throw him in the pool," she tried to hide her smile in her glass. "He uncanny acts like a robot; it may short-circuit his motherboard or something." You laughed hard. It made your stomach begin to hurt. The red joined in, and you fell against each other. Natasha always knew how to make you feel better. You were grateful for her.

Your phone ringing caught the laughter between you and your friend. "It's probably the misuses," you fished the phone out of your pocket as Natasha picked up the two dirty glasses. It was not Wanda. Oh, how you wished it was. "Who is it?" You forgot Natasha was still in your office. She ripped the phone out of your hand when you refused to answer. That snapped you out of it. "Your fucking mother. What the fuck does that cunt want?"

"I don't know because I didn't answer it," you deadpanned. She ignored the call and threw it on the couch next to you. You caught it before it bounced off.

"How long has seen been trying to reach you?" Her green eyes turned stormy, and you felt yourself shrink under her intense stare. It was impossible to lie to her. You used to joke that she was a Russian spy in her past life.

"Not long," you mumbled. "My father called me a few days ago. It's the first time she's called me," she huffed and threw her arms up, then on her hips.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not that big of a deal," your phone beeped, and you saw she left a voicemail. "Nat, you know how they are. They call when they need money. I ignore them, and when they find the money through someone else, they stop calling. It's the same way every time."

"I'm calling Melina."

"No!" You said suddenly and stood up. She raised an eyebrow at you with her phone in her hand. "I do not need the Russian mob going after my deadbeat parents. It will blow over."

"My parents aren't in the mob," you weren't 100% sure you believed her. Alexei had tattoos that would make any criminal go running. But she placed her phone back in her pocket. "I don't like this." You knew she wouldn't. It was another reason why you didn't tell her. She was very protective over you when it came to your parents. She had to mend a lot of the broken pieces caused by them.

"I know," you stood up, walked over to her, and placed your hands on her arms. "But they can't hurt me anymore." Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her noise.

"Promise me you will not give them anything. They don't deserve it," you nodded. "And promise me, if you don't feel safe, you call Maria or Melina." You nodded again. "I need to hear you say it."

"I promise." You knew they wouldn't intentionally hurt you, but to ease her nerves, you made the promise. Natasha pulled you into a hug, and you slumped against her. You felt safe. You felt like everything was going to be okay."

*

"Now, where are you off to?" Sarah asked when you stepped out of your office.

"I'm going to surprise Wanda at work," you smiled. "Can you transfer all calls to my personal? Oh! Do you want anything? I know you like their Ruben." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, and get me a slice of their cheesecake." Now that was a brilliant idea. She reached for her purse.

"If you hand me money, so help me, woman, I will slap you," she threw a piece of paper at you. Before you could retaliate, your phone rang. You stuck your tongue at her and answered it. "Hey, Wands, I was about to come see you."

"Actually," your smile dropped, and you stepped away from Sarah. "I need a favor." You hated how fast your heart started to beat. "Tommy and Billy have a half day that Vision and I forgot about. Can you pick them up? Vision will get them from you when he can."

"Of course. Jeez, you almost gave me a heart attack," she laughed. "I'll leave right now. I love you. See you tonight?" You questioned.

"Yes, and I love you too," you smiled and hung up. You faced Sarah.

"Duty calls," you gave her a salute. "I'll get you food whenever the boys want to go." Sarah laughed with a wave of her hand.

"Enjoy your time with them. We'll hold down the fort here."

Picking up the twins was always a walk in the park since your name was on the approved pickup list. The only annoying thing was the receptionist, who liked to flirt with you. You clarified that you were seeing someone, but she didn't care. The twins loved to tease you over it, much to Wanda's dismay.

You brought them to The Western Flavor for lunch. "Okay, we need to establish some rules," you said as they opened their menus. "Real food first, then desserts or your mother may break up with me." Billy laughed.

"It would take a lot for Mom to leave you."

"Yeah, I think you are stuck with us." You were more than okay with that. As you decided what to order, the twins updated you on all the school gossip. You forgot how crazy it was to be in middle school. Once the waitress brought your food, you noticed a change in their behavior. "Alright," you took a sip of your drink. "What's going on? Why are you acting weird?"

"Puberty," Tommy answered. You glared at them both. Billy rolled his eyes.

"Has Mom asked you about our birthday party?" Shit. Wanda asked you three days ago; the party was in a week.

"She did," you answered slowly.

"And?" Billy asked.

"Boys-," you sighed.

"Please, we really want you there," Tommy pleaded. "You are the only adult who will play with us in the pool." You laughed at that. He wasn't wrong. The weather was in that weird phase of not spring but winter. You looked at the weather for next week, and it was supposed to be in the mid-70s to early 80s.

"Plus, we asked Dad, and he said it was fine." Billy took a French fry from your plate. "Well, we didn't ask Tiffany, but it's not her house, so her opinion doesn't matter." Tommy nodded along with his brother. The twins' clear dislike of their father's girlfriend made you snort, which caused them to laugh at you.

"Okay, fine, I'll go," they cheered, and you couldn't help but smile at how excited they were. "However, if I find myself in one awkward encounter with him, I will use you two as my decoy."

"Aye, aye, captain," Tommy said.

"Sir, yes, sir," you rolled your eyes and threw your straw wrapper at them. They discussed everything that was going to happen at their party. You made a mental note to ask Wanda how you could help. You groaned when your phone started to ring. The boys laughed at your displeasure. Glancing at it, you saw it was your mother. They could not take a hint. You silenced the ringer and focused on figuring out what milkshake you wanted.

"Who was that?" Billy asked.

"No one important," you answered and stole a look at the twins. They were staring at each other. It reminded you of Wanda's look when she didn't believe the story the boys tried to spin. It was a little uncanny how similar the look was. "It was my mother. We don't have the best relationships?"

"Is that why you spend holidays with us instead of your mom and dad?" Billy asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Yes, before you guys, I would celebrate them with my coworkers or Natasha and Yelena." You spent a lot of Christmas and Thanksgiving at the Russian household. The last holiday you spent with your parents was when you were 11.

"Why don't you like them?" Tommy questioned.

"You don't have to answer that," Billy quickly added, glaring at his brother. You smiled. Kids were curious by nature, but it was okay. Besides, you've spoken about your relationship with your parents in therapy. It was easier.

"My parents divorced when I was around your age, but unlike your parents, they don't care about me," Billy frowned at your confession. "So they only call me when they need money or something from me."

"Parents shouldn't do that," you agreed with Billy, but sometimes, that wasn't the case. The waitress came by to collect your plates and asked if you wanted dessert. The twins wanted a milkshake, and you got a fudge sundae. She left with your order.

"Tiffany says that about mom," Tommy said. "That she is just with you for the money."

"Tommy," his brother hissed, slapping his brother under the table. So it was supposed to be a secret. You wanted to have a few words with Tiffany.

"You know that's not true, right?" They nodded.

"Trust me, we know," Billy said. "If mom were with you for the money, we wouldn't still live in our small apartment." You laughed, shaking your head.

"I don't like Tiffany," Tommy cringed, twitching his nose like Wanda when she said or tasted something she didn't like.

"Tommy!" Billy said again.

"What? Stop trying to be all high and mighty. You don't like her either," you smiled as Billy slumped in the booth.

"Your secret is safe with me," you promised.

"She's just so-" Billy groaned, unable to find the right words. "There is something about her we don't like." The waitress brought you the desserts.

"Maybe because she's dating your dad," you suggested and ate a spoonful of ice cream. It was weird; you liked the feeling of the brain freeze. Tommy shook his head.

"You are dating our mom, and we like you," he said. It was always nice to hear that. Anyway, what are you getting us for our birthday?" You laughed. You loved these boys so much.

*

"Pop a squat, boys," you told them when you entered your office after you dropped off Sarah's food. "Your dad will pick you up when he's done with work. So homework than video games."

"Awe, come on," Tommy whined. "Aren't you supposed to be the fun parent?" Parent. He called you the fun parent. It was so strange how that single word could fill you with butterflies.

"Homework while I do my job, then we can play Mario Kart," you compromised. They seemed content, and they got to work on your couch. You figured you had 45 minutes to tack your to-do list. So you followed their lead and got to work. You were 15 minutes off, and 30 minutes later, they were standing in front of your desk with their homework done. You glared at the boys and ignored the smiles on their faces.

"You promised," Billy said. Sighing, you reorganized the papers on your desk.

"Come on, boys. It's time for me to kick your butts in Mario Kart." They cheered and followed you to the conference room. You kept a few game consoles set up in there. So you set up the game and began to play.

You loved this time with the boys. When you first started dating Wanda, you were worried about the twins not liking you. They were a little standoffish, but you bonded with them over video games.

You were gifted an early copy of "Edge of Vengeance: Retribution," the second game in the franchise, by the developers. The first one was okay but not your favorite. So when you were at dinner with Wanda and the boys, you overheard the twins talking about it. You gifted it to them the next day. The smile on their face was something that would stick with you forever.

"No fair!" Tommy wined and dropped the controller onto the table. "You have to be cheating." You crossed the finish line, once again in first place.

"I'm sorry, little man, I'm just better than you," you teased and dusted off your shoulders. Billy laughed. He gave up trying to beat you a few rounds ago. You laughed as the door opened. It was Sarah.

"Their father is here," she told you. You nodded and paused the game.

"Alright. Grab your stuff," they put their controllers away without asking them.

"I almost beat you in the race before the last one," Tommy said. You stood between them as you walked to the elevator and into the lobby. "It was so unfair you used that shortcut." You smiled.

"Then you should have said we couldn't use short cuts," you said as the door closed and descended. "It's your fault." Billy laughed.

"She's got you there,"

"You are supposed to be on my side, jerk," Tommy lunged for this brother, but you grabbed his backpack and pulled him back.

"Enough," you told him. "The last thing I need is for you to break the elevator." The doors opened, and you walked out with your arms around your shoulders. "You'll get me one day, buddy; just don't give up." You found Vision as soon as you entered the lobby. Dressed in a suit and his arms crossed, he seemed a little out of place.

"Hi, Dad," Billy walked over to him and hugged him.

"Hello, boys. Did you have fun?"

"We did!" Tommy smiled. "Y/n, let us play Mario Kart." Their father looked at you.

"I made sure they did their homework first," you weren't completely useless when it came to kids.

"Thank you for picking them up. It slipped our minds."

"It's no big deal," you told him and shrugged. "I know my schedule is more flexible, so whenever you guys need me to pick them up, I can," he nodded.

"Dad, dad," Tommy pulled on Vision's arm. "She said she'll come to our birthday party."

"If that's okay," you added on quickly. "I don't want to intrude." The man must have given himself whiplash on how fast he looked at you and his son.

"You won't be," he said, even though his voice sounded strained. "You are always welcome." Your jaw almost dropped. What was happening right now? "Come on, boys. Let's get out of her hair. You can be quite a handful," he teased and ruffled their hair. The boys said goodbye, and you waved after them, unable to find any words after that bizarre encounter with your girlfriend's ex-husband.

"Are you okay, boss?" Bucky asked, walking over to you from his post.

"I think I need a drink after that," the veteran laughed.

"You are so dramatic," he said. You stuck your tongue at him and walked back to the elevator. After a few more hours of work, you will be home with Wanda.

*  

"Smells good," you smiled over your shoulder as Wanda entered the kitchen after her shower. Once Wanda's shift ended, you met her at the diner and drove you back to your house. While she showered away the day, you started on dinner. "Do you need help?" You shook your head.

"If you want to pick a wine to go with this, go right ahead," you had a pretty impressive wine collection and knew Wanda loved pairing a bottle with whatever dish. When she quit the diner, you would push her to culinary school. Once you placed the food, you carried the plates to the table, and Wanda brought the wine. She thanked you for cooking with a kiss. You spoke about nothing and everything. She caught you up on the latest drama at the diner and you gave her updates on work. Most of the time, you ate in a comfortable silence. It was one of your favorite things. There was no need to talk and fill the silence.

"So," you sipped on the wine. "I talked to the twins about their party." She nodded slowly and poured more wine from the bottle into her glass. "I will be going," you watched the relief wash over her. "If you wanted me to go so bad, you should have said so," you chuckled.

"I didn't want to put you in a situation you weren't comfortable in. I can deal with Vision. I don't like Tiffany," her nose scrunched in disgust. You laughed. Mother like son.

"What do you need help with?"

"Nothing," you glared at her. "I'm serious," she laughed. "Vision hired a catering service so I don't have to cook, and he rented extra chairs and tables from a party company. I may decorate the backyard, but everything is taken care of," your eyebrows went to your hairline. "I was shocked too, but all you have to do is show up," she stood up and picked up the dirty plates. "And look hot while you swim." You laughed and joined her in the kitchen. She was rinsing the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. You wrapped your arms around her waist.

"Are you ready for all the horny moms to eye fuck me the entire time?" Your girlfriend tensed up. You chuckled and pushed her hair out of the way to attack her neck with your lips. "Don't worry, baby. I only have eyes for you," you moved your hand underneath her shirt and felt goosebumps that appeared on her skin. "So sensitive," you teased. She dropped the plate in the sink and spun around quickly. Her lips attached to yours.

"You are mind," she mumbled against your lips. You picked her up with your hands underneath her things. The dishes could wait a little longer.

*

"When are you going to be home? I miss you." You chuckled. "What? Can I not miss my girlfriend leaving me alone in a cold bed."

"That bed is not cold because you like the house at 79 degrees," your girlfriend huffed. "Not even an even number when you know I hate odds," the woman had the audacity to laugh at you. "I miss you too, by the way. You know I'd rather be there with you than here."

"I know," she sighed. "How much longer are you going to be?" You looked at the stack of mail on your desk Sarah brought in before she left.

"30 minutes, an hour tops," you answered and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I have a headache," you whined.

"Drink some water and wear your glasses," you groaned. "I'll try to stay up and wait for you."

"Don't worry about it, baby," you leaned back in your chair. You need your sleep. I'll try not to wake you when I get home." Wanda was pulling a double shift tomorrow, and the ring on your desk seemed to tease you.

"I love you, sweetheart," you smiled at Wanda's sleepy voice.

"I love you too, baby," you said as you hung up and picked up the jewelry box. You were so busy. Thor and Loki agreed to work with you and Stark Industries, so that meant more paperwork, deadlines, and headaches for you. You wanted to get as much done before the birthday party as possible before the short weekend getaway you and Wanda planned.

You didn't have enough brainpower to plan a proposal. You wanted to involve the boys, but that's all you had figured out.

Sighing, you put the box down and picked up the stack of mail. A lot of it was junk, a few letters from organizations thanking you for your donations and a magazine subscription you don't remember signing up for. However, an envelope caught your attention. There was no return address and no postage mark as if someone had just dropped the letter off. Carefully, you opened it up and pulled out the letter.

Your stomach dropped immediately. The letter was created by cutting out maginze letters and gluing them together. It was something you saw out of an actual crime show. It read: 'Pay us what you owe, or they will get it.' A snake wrapped around your heart. It was difficult for you to breathe. You ran your hands over your face. As your hands shook, you picked up your phone and called an old friend.

"Why do I smell trouble?" Maria answered on the second ring. "Do I need to bail you and Natasha out of jail again?" You could have laughed if bile wasn't forming in your throat.

"Maria, I need you to come to my office," you said. "It's an emergency." Could she hear the shake in your voice? Fuck, your heart was pounding against your ribs. You were going to have a panic attack. "Ria, I need you."

"Shit," you heard movement on her side. "I'll be right there. Do I need to stay on the phone with you?"

"No," you said. "I'll be fine. Just hurry, please."

"I'll be right there. Do your breathing exercises for me, okay? You're no use to me if you pass out," she managed to make you chuckle.

"Thanks, Ria. I'll see you soon," she hung up. You stood up and walked away from your desk. You needed to get away from that letter. So you paced—5 steps one way, turn around 5 steps the other way, and repeat and repeat. It helped lessen the tension in your chest, and you began to breathe normally. It was going to be okay. You kept repeating that mantra in your head.

* 

You opened the door before Maria could knock. "I heard you," you answered your unasked question.

"If you didn't sound so flustered on the phone, I'd joke about how creepy that is," she got you to smile. "Alright, what is it?" You waved her over to your desk and pointed to the letter. She put gloves on and picked it up. She read it over a few times. "Has anyone else touched this?" You shook your head.

"I was the only one to touch the letter, but Sarah may have touched the envelope." She nodded and placed the letter in an evidence bag.

"Okay, your fingerprints should still be in the system, so we can cross-reference yours on the letter," you rolled your eyes.

"You get arrested once, and it's all anybody talks about." The agent smirked.

"If I remember correctly, it was four times, and Fury was the first one to arrest you." You smiled and sat down on the couch.

"How's the big man? Still causing you headaches." Maria sat beside you, throwing her feet on the small table.

"Always. He misses you. Had to handcuff him to his chair when I told him you called and needed something." Now, that would have been a sight. You missed the man, too. There was a part of your childhood where you rebelled; not even Natasha's family could ring you in. It was a desperate attempt to get your parent's attention. Instead of getting their attention, you got the attention of Nick Fury. The man arrested you for breaking into an abandoned building and vandalism. You liked tagging buildings when you were younger. Since it was your first offense, you were sentenced to community service, which Fury oversaw.

He saw something in you that not a lot of people did. A young girl who was looking for someone to believe in. So when his agents brought you in three more times, he kept it off your record and became a mentor to you. If it wasn't for him and Natasha's family, you would not be the CEO of your own company. You owed them a lot.

"So, who do you owe money to?" You gasped at the accusation. "Look, you know I have to ask and look at every angel." You knew that but still it hurt.

"I don't own anybody anything," your headache was coming back full force.

"When was the last time you spoke to your parents?" You sighed, crossing your arms.

"3 years ago, almost 4. It was about the boat incident on Oneida." Maria nodded. "They've been calling me the past week, but I've ignored them."

"I will get a judge to sign off on your phone records and security camera. Hopefully, we can catch who dropped this off," she placed her hand on the back of your neck and squeezed it. "We'll figure out who did this," she promised. "It could also be a competitor. The deal you made with Stark has made headline news. Do you want me to assign agents to Wanda and the boys?" You shook your head.

"I don't want to worry them. I'll," you sighed and rubbed your hands across your face. I'll talk to them about it." She nodded, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Maria was similar to you. Her home life was not ideal, and it seemed Fury had the tendency to adopt strays and keep them underneath his wing. Unfortunately, she had to bail you and Natasha out of trouble every once in a while.

"How long have you been here?" She softly asked. You closed your eyes.

"I got in around 9," you answered. It would have been earlier, but Wanda held you hostage in bed, and it was very hard to say no to sleepy Wanda.

"You realize it's 11:30, right?" you groaned and nodded. "Go home, bean," she said. "Go home to Wanda and the boys. We'll take care of everything." You believed her. She was the deputy director and the leader of an impressive team. You trusted her with your life.

*    

When you closed the door to your house, you felt the weight on your shoulders leave. It felt easier to breathe. You threw your bag on the couch, took off your shoes, and made sure to set the house alarm. Walking to your room, you checked on the boys, who were fast asleep. Good. You kept walking and found Wanda fast asleep. Her hair framed around her head. The blankets were pulled up to her chin. The sight made you smile, and you stripped out of your clothes and climbed into bed beside her. Usually, you would shower and change into pajamas, but you wanted to be in the safety of your shared bed.

Trying to avoid waking her, you pulled back the covers and laid yourself next to Wanda. Your head in the crock of her neck, inhaling her sent. She smelt of lavender and soothed your throbbing headache. On instinct, she wrapped her arms around you. Most nights you held her, you loved the feeling of her in your arms. Sometimes you needed to be held. "My baby," she mumbled, still clearly asleep. You smiled and kissed her shoulder.

"Yours, my love," you whispered. "Yours now and forever." You weren't going to let anyone hurt your family.

*  

Oh, you were going to throw up. You desperately wanted to arrive with Wanda, but a video call with Tony, Shuri, and Thor was scheduled, and you could not reschedule it. The party officially started in two hours, but you wanted to show up early and help. Pumping yourself up, you knocked on the door with your free hand. The presents for the twins were in one hand, and your swimsuit, change of clothes, and a bottle of wine were in your backpack. The door opened. "Y/n," Vision said. Was he smiling at you?

"Vision," you forced a smile of your own.

"You're here!" You heard the thundering footsteps of the twins racing towards you.

"I'll take these," he took the presents right before Billy and Tommy threw themselves at you. "They've been on a sugar rush all morning." The man looked fondly at his sons, who were crushing you. Damn, where are they always this strong? They may break a rib. "Alright, boys," Vision chuckled. "Let her breathe." What the fuck was happening? Did you walk into a different timeline? Billy let go of you first, but Tommy kept hugging you.

"Happy birthday, boys," you ruffled Tommy's hair. "Are you excited for the party?"

"Yes!" Tommy said. "Let's go swimming." He grabbed onto your hand and began to drag you to the pool.

"Tommy," the boy froze at his father's tone. "You promised to help Tiffany in the kitchen. Go help her with your brother, then you can go in the pool." Tommy groaned and headed towards the kitchen, dragging his feet behind him. Billy rolled his eyes and followed his brother. Vision sighed. "They may send me to an early grave," There was a smile on his face.

"Oh, I can take these back," you reached for the presents, but he shook his head.

"I can take these to the table. Wanda is outside," you stared at the man as he left you in the entryway. You shook your head and walked over to the back door. Vision was right. Wanda was putting together a banner. Her back was to you. Quietly, you opened the door and walked over to her. She jumped when you wrapped your arms around her waist. The smell of her perfume helped you relax. Soon she relaxed in your arms.

"Hi baby," you whispered and kissed her cheek.

"How was the meeting?" She asked as she worked on the banner. You sighed.

"It was okay," you threw your bag in a chair and began to help her. "I think Thor has more energy than Tony." Wanda chuckled. You continued to place the letters together to spell 'Happy Birthday' in silence. Until a question was burning on your lips. You glanced at the house. "Is Vision okay?" You asked slowly. "He's acting strange, like Tommy hit him in the back of the head with a football." A smile slowly crept onto Wanda's face.

"No," she laughed. "He's been in a good mood since I got here," she shrugged. "I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth." You narrowed your eyes at the house. Something strange was happening here.

You hated to admit how much fun the party was. You spent a lot of your time being dragged around by the twins and involved in whatever game they wanted to play. They somehow convinced their father to play a game of chicken with you in the pool. You learned that the man would do anything to make his boys smile. It was annoyingly adorable.

The only issue you had was Tiffany. She cornered you in the kitchen when you made another pitcher of lemonade. Well, corned was a strong word, but she was interrogating you about your work and family.

Besides that, you enjoyed spending time with Wanda and meeting the parents of the twins' friends. It felt like you were part of the family. You sang Happy Birthday, ate cake, watched them open presents, and cuddled with Wanda while you watched Tommy and Billy run around with their friends.

Once the party was over and the last guest left, you grabbed a trash can and began picking up the backyard. It wasn't long till Vision joined. You held open the bag for him as he picked up bottles that missed the trash can. "You made their day by coming," he said, breaking the silence. I think they'll be talking about it all year." You stared at him, eyes squinting. Did I say something?"

"Vision, what the fuck is going on?" He seemed startled by your sudden outburst. "This is the most you've spoken to me since Wanda and I started dating." The man sighed. He walked over to the cooler and opened it. Returning to you, he handed you a beer. You watched him open it and offer you the bottle. You hit yours against his and opened it. You've never seen this man drink before. You really were in a weird timeline.

"I did not like you when you first started dating Wanda," you chuckled. Everyone with eyes knew that. "It was mostly my fault our marriage fell apart. I became complacent and did not realize what I had, and then she was gone." You frowned. Vision took another sip from the bottle. "And Billy and Tommy loved you. On my weekends, they would not stop talking about you." You understand now.

"I'm not here to steal your family, Vision," the man sighed.

"Well, I know that now," he said. "Billy helped me realize how unfair I was treating you. You always thought that boy was wise beyond his years. "So I am sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me." You weren't one to hold grudges, especially when the person was open and vulnerable with you.

"Water under the bridge, Vis," you said. "But thank you for being honest with me." He smiled and began to take down the remaining tables. Since it was a day full of confessions, you had one of your own. You took a sip of your beer. "I have a hypothetical question," he glanced at you while he laid the table on the grass. "How difficult is getting an Order of Protection in New York?" The man froze. "Hypothetically," you said again. Vision was a lawyer and part of the team for the district attorney. If anyone knew the process, it would be him.

"Am I that bad?" He joked. You rolled your eyes and mumbled, 'Jackass.' He chuckled and sipped his beer. "Hypothetically speaking, it can be filed in a criminal case or family court. Would this hypothetical order of protection be against a family member?" You crossed your arms.

"Hypothetically, yes," he sighed, watching his eyes look you up and down.

"Then hypothetically, you would need to file a petition that tells the judge and respondent what you would want," you nodded and took a step forward. "This hypothetical order of protection," you rolled your eyes. "Are Wanda and my sons in danger?"

"No," he gave you a look that he wasn't convinced. "No," you repeated. "Nothing will happen to them. I promise."

"Have you spoken to Wanda about this hypothetical order of protection?" You looked at the house and saw Wanda trying to get the twins to help clean up and put their toys away. She caught you staring, and she waved, but you saw the question in her gaze; 'Are you okay?' You nodded and waved back.

"I have not," he hummed.

"A little advice," you looked back at the man. "Tell her. She hates being lied to. She rather know the truth no matter how bad it is," you knew that. Sighing, you rang your hand through your hair. You felt his hand on your shoulder. "You are good for her."

"Thanks, Vis," you smiled. He nodded and began the original task of cleaning up. You finished your beer and threw the empty bottle in the trash. You placed your hands on your hips and looked around the backyard. Today was good. You hated to ruin it with your family bullshit.

*

"I am tired," Wanda slumped on the couch, not bothering to take off her shoes. You smiled, dropped your bag, and toed off your sneakers. Sitting by her feet, you unclipped her heels and dropped them to the floor. You massaged her calves and thighs. She groaned and flipped onto her back, letting her hair down from the ponytail braid.

"You did good, mama," you whispered. "A successful party if I say so." Wanda climbed onto your lap, her hands behind your head, playing with the hair. It was relaxing, and you felt your eyes closed.

"What were you and Vision talking about?" Your eyes snapped open, and you cringed.

"Can you not say your ex-husband's name while on my lap and the less-than-PG thoughts running through my head?" She laughed and rested her head in the crook of your neck. You ran her hand down her back, and she slumped against you. "I wanted some legal advice regarding my parents." The mention of your parents caused your girlfriend to tense up. She leaned back to look at you.

"Why ask Vision and not your lawyer?" Well, your lawyer was Melina, and you did not want to tell her what was happening. For the company, it was Carol. You learned very early on that mixing business and personal was messy.

"Because I was just looking for advice," she narrowed her eyes at you. "They've been calling me a lot."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You hated her tone. It made you feel like you were in trouble. You winced.

"They do this all the time when they want money," you said, feeling major deja vu when you were having a similar conversation with Natasha. You laid her down on the couch and hovered above her. "And I didn't want to worry you," Wanda sighed.

"What do you tell me all the time?" It was your turn to sigh.

"We are a team," you mumbled, kissed her cheek, and rested your forehead against hers. "I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" Her eyes filled with worry and concern. You nodded. It was the truth. You were okay. "Is there anything else?"

"No," you said right away. The lie felt bitter on your tongue. She put her arms around your back and pulled you closer. When she first did this, you worried you would crush her. But she loved having you close. It was a physical reminder that you were hers, and she was yours. You kissed her shoulder. This was perfect. The little bubble of peace you both created was everything to you. You wouldn't change it for the world.

*    

"Wanda," she looked up from her notepad while she took her table's order. It was her manager, while another server was walking over to her. "It's your son's school," Wanda's heart plummeted. She apologized to her table and walked to her manager's office.

"Hello," she said once she was alone.

"Hi Wanda, it's Amanda." Oh, Wanda knew who she was. It was the receptionist who kept flirting with you. "Billy and Tommy haven't gotten picked up yet. We tried calling Vision, but it went right to voice mail."

"They are still at school," Wanda said slowly as if Amanda spoke a foreign language.

"Yes, ma'am. They are in the office, perfectly safe. Will you be in to pick them up, or will you send in someone else?" Wanda didn't miss her flirtatious tone but she was so stuck on the fact her sons weren't picked up from school on the day you said you would do it.

"I'll be right there," she told her and hung up before Amanda could respond. What was going on?

*   

When she frantically walked into the building, Wanda knew her boys were behind her. Bucky raised a questioning eyebrow but buzzed her through. It was rather comical when she ran right into Natasha. The collision caused the redhead to drop all her papers. "Wands, where is the fire?" She chuckled. "Isn't this how you fell in love with the boss? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm spoken for." The memory always brought a smile to her face, but it tugged at her heart. Wanda and the boys helped pick up the papers. "Wait, I thought it was Y/n's day to pick up the little gremlins." She winked at the boys.

"It was, and clearly she didn't," Wanda handed her the papers she had picked up. So where is she?" Wanda hoped you forgot—that you got dragged into another meeting. Natasha's green eyes said something different. Her green eyes flickered to the trio in front of her and then to Bucky, who joined the group.

"She left about 45 minutes ago," she looked at Bucky, who nodded to confirm her story.

"Her phone is going right to voicemail," Billy added. Wanda watched your best friend's eyes turn stormy.

"Nat, what's wrong?" Natasha let out a shaky breath.

"Why don't we take the boys to the conference room?" she smiled. "I think the switch is still hooked up." The twins cheered and walked towards the conference room, leading the way. Natasha pulled out her phone and began to follow her sons, but Wanda stopped her.

"Who are you calling?" She glanced at the twins, who Bucky was now following.

"Maria Hill. She's-"

"An agent over at SHIELD," you spent one drunken night recanting all your stories with the agent and the red head. At the time it was funny but hearing Natasha say the agent's name made Wanda realize something terrible was happening. "Nat, what's going on?"

"I don't know," she put the phone to her ear. "But Maria will be our best bet." Oh, darling, what have you gotten yourself into?

* 

It was the pain radiating from your neck and the side of your head that woke you up. Black dots covered your Vision, and you blinked a few times for them to disappear. You were bound to the chair in a room you didn't recognize. You yanked at the restraints, but they weren't moving. "I'd save your strength," the voice came from the corner of the room. You knew that voice.

"Tiffany," your throat was so dry. "What the fuck?" Vision's girlfriend walked out of the corner. She looked different from the party. Her hair was pinned up in a bun. No hair seemed to be out of place. Instead of her dress at the party, she wore black slacks and a red body suit. You remembered her face was dolled up with makeup, not bare. She gripped your chin and forced your head back. You winced. "What are you doing?" You hated how much your voice shook.

"How good is your Greek mythology?" Was she speaking with an accent? It felt like there was cotton in your eyes. "What is the mythological creature that is a serpent with nine heads?" You racked your brain for the answer. "Come on, sweetheart. Do you need another hint?" You tried to swallow, but you couldn't. Fuck, you needed water. "If you cut the head off two more, grow it back." It clicked. Tiffany smiled. "Say it."

"H-HYDRA," you whispered.

"Say it louder," she demanded, nails dug into your skin.

"HYDRA," you said. She dropped her hand, and your head fell forward. "What do you want with me?" You kept your head down.

"In due time, darling. Rest. The real fun will begin soon."

-

Next part out here

[dalamjisung]

the escape plan ❋ hwang hyunjin

word count: 3528

genre: fluff

pairing: reader x hwang hyunjin

description: you love working as a barista just because you love people watching. in this case, you end up watching hyunjin and his failed date. this is the one where you and hyunjin learn that the escape plan should've been plan A to begin with.

part of Summertime’s Special Collab with @catiuskaa | series masterlist here

It’s the way he smiles that makes chuckle from behind the counter. 

The bar is full today, but then again, it’s full most nights. During the week, you mostly see older couples, and it fills your heart with warmth to imagine a life in which you get to grow old with someone next to you. But then you mind the bar and the older creeps flock in and, suddenly, celibacy is looking pretty good. The weekend is when the youngsters, like you, flock in. 

Seeing people your age on dates is quite funny. It reminds you of why you used to like dates so much and, at the same time, hate them so much. You kind of miss it, the whole excitement of having a crush and getting ready for a date. It’s the silly dances and the makeup process and the singing with a hairbrush that makes you softer for those moments past. But you just don’t have time for that anymore, not with work getting busier by the second. For a minute, you wonder if tourist season came a couple of weeks early, judging by the new faces you see coming around… his included. 

To be fair, you think every single bartender in that place stopped what they were doing to watch him walk in. He is definitely someone you will all gossip about in the back room, and from how your co-worker keeps elbowing you every time he moves, you know she’s going to be your main source of entertainment during closing time. “Oh my god, Y/N, just look at him,” She groans, putting the cup she’s washing down in favour of leaning forward over the counter, as if she can just touch him like that. “He’s so handsome… why can’t it be me on that date?”

“Oh, I don’t think you want to be on that date,” You laugh, raising your brows while getting their drinks ready. He looks soft, gentle; kind enough to sit through what is visibly one of the worst dates you’ve seen during your shifts so far. “That smile is so fake I’m afraid it might get stuck.” 

“How do you know? It might be the best! With a guy like him, I’m sure it will be the best…”

“For her, sure,” Putting the drinks on a tray and getting out from behind the counter, you get ready to go deliver them. Their table is in your section, and if you’re honest, a little snooping never hurt anyone. “But him? Girl, he’s leaning away from her! He’s basically wincing! Don’t be so superficial– just cause he’s pretty doesn’t mean that’s all he cares about!” 

“Go find me some gossip!” She whispers with a wink and basically pushes you off. 

Being a bartender isn’t what you want to do for the rest of your life. The thought of figuring the rest of your life out, though, makes you shiver in horror. You don’t really see a point in planning the future if that means you can’t really live in the present, and so for now, for this moment, this you, this time, you love your job. You love interacting with people, you love listening to stories through the counter, you love when people ask you to make a drink you think they’ll like. Deep down, you know you won’t stay there forever, but that’s just not something you’re ready to face yet. 

“Excuse me,” You announce yourself quietly, approaching from the side so you don’t accidentally spill anything on them. 

There is an order to serving tables– first the napkins, then the cups, then a gentle smile and a small bow before walking away. Despite your words, the goal is to be a ghost, almost like the cups appeared there without a presence looming over the guests. But you move slowly, you’re gracious, polite, and definitely curious. 

“…and then like, they fired me!” Her voice is almost squeaky.“Because I told them I wouldn’t take a meeting from the hairdresser!” 

“But… it was during your work hours…” 

This is the first time you hear his voice and it shocks you. It’s lower than you expected and oh so quiet, like he regrets saying the words even before he says them. You cough a little, hiding the laughter bubbling in the back of your throat. And he must have heard you because he immediately glances up, eyes meeting yours and it’s almost like, when he notices your pursed lips, it unlocks something in him that makes his lips purse too. The speed in which you both look away is comical, but now you know he knows. The bridge between you two has been shattered and now, it’s like you can’t keep crossing. 

“Yeah, but they still should respect my personal boundaries, you know?” This is the moment she looks up at you, eyes lingering a little too long as if she’s questioning why you’re still there. “Anyways, should we get some food? Could you bring us the menu?” 

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” It takes you a minute to grab the menu and return. “Here you go, ma’am, what can I get for you?” 

She rattles off some random items and you make sure to memorise them before turning to him. “And you, sir? What can I get you?” 

“Oh don’t bother, he’ll be sharing what I’ve ordered.”

When she says this, you’re still turned to him and he’s looking right at you, and both your eyes go wide. “Could you please show me where the bathroom is?” He asks instead, and you nod while he gets up and tells his date “I’ll be right back.”

The restrooms are on the upper section of the bar, and you take him upstairs with a stupid smile on your face. He looks like he’s around your age and the long, tired sigh you hear coming from behind you is the last draw– you start laughing out loud, only looking back at him when you get to the top of the stairs. He looks like he’s amused at your reaction yet tortured because of his reality. 

“You’re laughing because it’s not you sitting across from her!” He gasps, head falling in his hands dramatically. “I don’t even need the bathroom, I just need to get out of there!”

Giggling, you nod. “It does seem like it’s not going well.”

“Oh god, even you guys noticed?!”

“To be fair to you, we see dates going all kinds of ways here, so it’s a part of the job.”

For a second, he falls silent, eyes stuck on yours like he’s trying to speak directly into your soul. “I need an escape plan,” He mumbled, head cocking to the side. “And you might just be it.”

“Sorry?” Your eyes go wide at his suggestion. “I can’t– I mean, you can just tell her, no? Just–“

“Oh come on, you’ve seen dates going all kinds of ways and you think I can just tell her?! Are you crazy?! I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t throw a drink on my face!”

“Why did you even ask her on a date? Poor girl thinks she has a really handsome guy into her and you’re planning an escape,” You asked, looking around to make sure no one is listening to your conversation. The last thing you need is a snoopy client deciding to interfere and tell the girl themselves. You’ve seen it happen and you were the one having to separate the fight. 

“I didn’t!” Whining, he stomps her foot on the ground like a child and your brows shoot up in curiosity. “My friend set me up because I haven’t really been going out lately, and it’s not like I was desperate, you know? I was just… busy! But he set me up regardless and he said he met her at a party because she’s his friend’s cousin’s best friend or something like that and I thought ‘how bad can this be?’ but as it turns out it can be really, really bad and I just want to go home and watch some TV with my dog!”

The way he is panting by the end of his rant has your heart squeezing out in sympathy for him. You’ve had had your fair share of bad dates, and it always feels more urgent than they actually are, but in the moment, while you pretend to be someone you’re not and smile at things you normally wouldn’t, all to appease someone you have no intention to see again, it’s a terrible sensation. Feels like getting lost, like you push yourself so far away that you worry if you’ll ever find your way back. And it made you feel guilty, knowing you were purposefully lying to someone who seemed to be having a good time, although by themselves. 

It’s not like you, to interfere and meddle, but he looks so upset with those plump, pouty lips that even you can’t resist it. “Fine,” You mumbled, straightening your back abruptly. “But you’re paying for her! Don’t be a dick! Just… Just follow my lead.”

“You are my saviour!” He cheered. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Hyunjin,” You smile, offering him a hand to shake. “I’m Y/N. Also known as your escape plan.” 

What follows next is a really intricate plan. He will go back. He will smile. He will listen to her and give her the attention he craves because as much as he seems to be hating this date, she isn’t and you are not to make her night the worst night of her life. While he does all that, you will grab the food she ordered and you will bring it to her. In your tray, a mysterious drink will sit dangerously by the edge and as you put the food down, the weight shift will destabilise your hand and suddenly Hyunjin will be covered in liquid. He will then be very upset about it, and order the bill, which he will pay in full. Then, he gets to go home should your plan work. 

“You’re a genius,” Hyunjin whispers before returning to his table, and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

All in all, you understand why the girl looks at him like how she does, you’re pretty sure anyone around him is looking at him like that– impressed and slightly intimidated. Hyunjin is a beautiful man– he is way past handsome, at this point, and you would describe him as beautiful. His lips are full and his eyes are sharp, and his laughter, even in misery, sounds like fine tuned music. For a second, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be the one sitting in front of him. He seems charming enough, from your brief interaction; would you have fun? Would he want to escape you, too, or would he stay? Shaking your head, you go back to the counter.

“Did I see you go upstairs with Mister Handsome or do my eyes deceive me?” Of course she was watching you. 

“Your eyes are right, but your mind deceives you,” Rolling your eyes, you can’t quite hide the slight blush tainting your cheeks at her insinuation. 

“You cannot seriously tell me you don’t think he’s cute,” She squinted, stepping closer to you with a teasing smile you ignore, you still have to load the tray and make a random drink. 

“I never said that,” You whisper, trying to keep the conversation private even though you two are in a very open space. “But I don’t know the guy. All I know is that he asked me to get him out of that date so… here I go.” 

Everything goes according to plan. Hyunjin is acting like a gentleman by the time you make it to his table, and the cup of the mysterious, too colourful concoction falls perfectly in his lap. You act the part, too, apologising repeatedly for the accident while pulling out tissues from thin air to try and help him dry off. “Sir, I am so, so sorry!” Maybe you are verging on overacting, but what do you know about that? You’re a bartender, not a Hollywood star. 

The fatal mistake, though, is when your eyes meet again. This time, you can’t help yourself and you snort, so loudly and unload like that it catches everyone by surprise. The tables around are either laughing or gasping and you can’t help the way your entire face goes red, actually embarrassed about this stupid, stupid plan. What were you even thinking when you agreed to this? “I–“ Even your hands shake, the nervousness of your sudden self-awareness getting the best of you with all those eyes burning your back. 

“It’s okay.” 

Somehow you hear him above the screeching screams of the poor girl sitting in front of him. “Y/N, it’s okay,” Hyunjin whispers, shaking his head with a hint of a smile that is not mocking nor cocky. His smile, all pretty and cute, is just as comforting as the little nod he sends your way, reaching towards the floor to pick up the tray with one hand and help you up with the other. It’s steady and large, his hands, and you can’t help but freeze a little when he touches your elbow, pushing you upwards with a smile. “There you go. Thank you, I’ll come to the counter to pay in a second.” 

That is not part of the plan, but you just nod, scurrying away as fast as you possibly can.

This feels weird. You’re not shy. Never have been, actually, which is what makes you so happy working with people; you crave the social interaction, love the conversations, smile at the compliments. It fuels you, knowing that, at some level, you’re making someone happy, even if just for a second when they get their food or their drink. It makes you feel happier, too. Well, usually it makes you feel happier too, but, now, there is nothing you want more than to disappear. “Y/N! Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” 

“Can you mind the bar for a few minutes?” You mumble, already making your way to the back door. “I just need a second.” 

The back room is every barista’s safe place. It’s where everyone goes when things are getting a bit too much and they need a second. Right now, you really need a second. You need to ground yourself again, remember that the present is good enough and there is no need to project the future, especially not a crazy fantastical version of it. Sitting down on a chair, you let your head fall in your hands, eyes closed as you just enjoy the quietude of it all. It’s easy, creating a whole scenario in your head, when a guy like Hyunjin is being so kind and gentle and funny. And it’s easy to forget the consequences, too, even if you can’t stop laughing at it. 

It’s the cringeness of it all that gets to you, the way you replay that scenario in your head again and again and you shiver and shudder at the memory of you trying to clean the purposeful mess you made while everyone around stared at you. Chuckling, you shake your head. “Y/N, you are a very silly person,” You mumble to yourself, getting up with a final deep breath. Your co-worker pops her head in the room before you can even take a step towards the door. 

“Hey, your table paid and left. You can come out now, the cute guy wasn’t angry.”

Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better to know he just… up and left. But you nod regardless, smiling weakly at her. “Thanks,” You mumble and then it’s right back to work. 

The rest of the night is uneventful. Boring, almost, and you can’t help but feel uncomfortable. Like you had just done something you were going to regret, like… like you had just been used as a means to an end. “I got it,” You grab the keys before your colleague can. “Go home. You did great tonight, I’ll close up.” 

At this point, you just feel like being alone. What started as a good day has quickly gone off the rails, and you don’t particularly regret anything, but you need some time to process everything that happened in the past few hours. And that’s okay– all you need is time, nothing else, nothing less.

Ironically, it seems like time is all you don’t have. 

“Y/N.”

You almost trip on your foot, mountain of cups in your arms about to go down had it not been for his reflexes, hands catching you at the very last minute. “Jesus Christ! Hyunjin! What are you doing here?!” It’s like he has some kind of weird power over you, face immediately on fire at the feel of his hands on your arms. 

“I came to thank you!” His hands go up in defence and you laugh. “You disappeared after the whole escape plan and I couldn’t thank you properly!”

“So you thought that sneaking in at almost three in the morning when I’m alone in an empty bar was the best way to thank me?” You whisper, eyes wide like a kid who’s afraid to get in trouble. You can’t stop the incredulous smile playing on your lips, though, and you snort a laughter out. “I just met you and this is kind of creepy…”

This time around, he’s the one that looks startled. “I’m not creepy!” He is so dramatic with his gasp and his hand over his heart. “I came here to say thank you and–“ Hyunjin pauses, face a bit blushed. “And you know, I owe you one. You were so nice to help out and you embarrassed yourself–“

“I wouldn’t say I embarrassed myself–“ You cut off quickly, face falling on your hands in a clear contradiction to your words.

“Y/N, don’t kid yourself, that was embarrassing,” Hyunjin snorted. The tension, the one that floated in the air for the first seconds of this interaction and the one on your shoulders whenever you thought about the burning sensation of people staring at you, is gone, and left behind is just this– the giggling, the stepping around each other, the getting to know more. You like this… and it feels too natural for something that looks so misplaced. This kind of interaction, this kind of back and forth, the joking and the banter– this is what makes a good first date, in your opinion. 

But this can’t be a date… right?

Y/N, stop daydreaming, you think to yourself. 

“But it was hilarious. And it was a favour,” He continues, finally taking one, then two steps towards you. “And I want to repay you.”

“You don’t have to–“

“I really want to,” He says, wincing a little at how desperate he sounds. “Okay, I see how I’m coming off as creepy. But! In my defence! I don’t know your number and I don’t know your schedule!”

You just raise your brows at him. 

“At this point there is no escaping my fate,” Hyunjin chuckles, but before he can say or do anything else, he looks at the counter. There are some cups, pens, and notepads you still have to put away. “May I?”

You just nod, eyeing him curiously. “What are you doing?” 

“This,” Hyunjin says, ripping a piece of paper he scribbled on and giving it to you. “Is my number. Text me tomorrow? I really want to pay you back…” 

“And how will you pay me back? Unfortunately, I don’t think there will be an opportunity for you to trip and spill a drink over me any time soon.”

“I mean, come out to get a drink with me and I’m sure I can arrange that.” 

You stutter, eyes wide when he just shrugs. “W-What?”

“Or a coffee!” He quickly says, nodding excitedly. “Anything. Dinner, lunch, coffee, drinks– whatever sounds less creepy right now, cause I’m really nervous I’m coming across like a stalker and I don’t want to scare you off or–“

“Or I might be the one needing an escape plan?” You joke, grabbing your phone from your pocket and typing in the number he has just given you. 

With quick fingers, you quickly send him a message: hey :) drinks sound good.

Hyunjin frowns at the buzzing coming from his phone at such an early hour. But the smile on his face when he reads your text is just breath-taking, and yes, maybe you’re being superficial, or maybe you’re not, but the way your heart picks up a little is not superficial at all.

“Drinks it is,” Hyunjin nods, trying to hide a smile. “I know just the place.”

“I swear to god if you say here I will–“

“Great service, great food– it makes sense!”

“Go home you creep.”

There is a pause before he turns around to leave. You can hear the smile in his voice when he calls your name. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a date.”

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

Wohooooo Hyunjin's is out >.< I'm loving writing for this series!!! as always, make sure to go to @catiuskaa profile to go check out her incredible pieces for this series and her general masterlist!

[rosewaterandivy]

answer July— ah, said July—

summary: from Summersong Request-athon, inspired by "July, July!" as requested by marvelous Meg aka @courtingchaos 💜 || The soft pad of your index finger trails down the scar of his jaw, lingering there as you smile, a little different from before.

Softer, somehow. As if it’s just for him.

w.c.: 4700

pairing: e.m. x f!reader

themes: prosaic summer feels, the ephemeral nature of time, processing trauma, mention of previous bodily harm & its aftermath, insecurities and the like, body worship

a/n: long time, no see my fellow fiends. did i let this run away from me? maybe. do i care? not a wit! thanks for tagging along with the team, aka let eddie have a nice, normal summer for once - hope you enjoy! title from "Answer July" by Emily Dickinson.

Summer slipped by syrupy slow, lingering around the edges. All honey-coated and sweet, so much so in fact, that it struck one Eddie Munson as rather strange.

Granted, his spring had been touch and go what with being the town pariah and nearly bleeding his ever-loving guts out in the Upside Down and all. So maybe a slow uneventful summer was well-warranted after all of that.

May sprinted past with its final school bells ringing and a quick dash across the stage at graduation to snatch a diploma from Higgins before the school board could think better of it. He hastily threw together a quick campaign to welcome Will Byers back to town and only somewhat regretfully passed the mantle of Hellfire over to Henderson.

He got himself a job, nothing to write home about, but certainly something to pass the time and get him out of the house. Wayne insisted Eddie didn’t need to work and Eddie said the same for him, the never-ending cycle rearing its head once more.

The government hush money was, after all, nothing if not generous.

Still, he felt ill at ease in the new house. Liable to crawl out of his skin at times.

Besides, if it weren’t for the job, he’d have never set his sorry sights on the newbie behind the counter at the soda fountain.

Yes, of fucking course Hawkins, Indiana had an old-fashioned soda shop pharmacy combo.

Which did nothing to help his sweet tooth.

So, on the days he happened to close the record store, Eddie would peer across the street searching for a familiar head of hair, usually swept up onto a bun or ponytail by day’s end, and a smile that could melt the cockles of his cold, black heart.

The bell chimed as you rung up a sale for a customer at the register, the cash drawer grazing a bit of skin at your hip as you turned.

“Be with you in a sec!”

Eddie settled himself on a well-worn stool and drummed his fingers along the polished counter. He watched as you counted change for one of the old biddies who all but forced casserole down the throats of the Munson men after he’d been discharged from the hospital.

She thanks you and shoves a dollar in the tip jar as she makes to leave.

“Looking lovely as ever Pearl,” A low familiar voice says.

“Oh, you sweet talker,” The older woman swats at Munson still perched on his stool. She tsks and tugs at a lock of hair that’s fallen from where he’d tied it back in frustration. “One of these days I’ll come at you with my scissors, young man.”

Eddie sighs dramatically and swivels on the stool as she reaches the door, “Promises, promises. And yet…”

Pearl pushes the door open and says with a wink, “You’ll never see me coming.”

The door falls shut behind her, allowing him to return his attention to you behind the counter.

At the far end of the shop, you’re hefting open freezer doors and scooping out near perfect spheres of ice cream onto sugar and waffle cones, scoffing when someone requests a cup instead.

He’s surprised to see no one else behind the counter, there’s usually at least one person to man the counter with during the busier hours, the after dinner rush.

The door keeps chiming as people join the line, eyeing the offerings— campfire marshmallow, french toast, vanilla, strawberry, rainbow sherbert— the list goes on and on. Some lean over and whisper to their dates, earning a tittering giggle here and there. Sticky hands of children smack against the glass pointing out their selection as you shove another scoop onto a towering waffle cone.

And it’s then that Eddie decides he’s had quite enough of this.

Tossing his bag behind the counter and hopping over it, all long limbs and pointy elbows. His knees pop slightly as he passes behind you to grab a scoop from the water trough.

“What’re you doing?”

“Uh, helping out?”

And without another word, he turns to the next customer and takes their order, only stepping on the toes of your Keds once or twice before locating the correct flavor.

“God,” He mutters under his breath, the tendons of his forearm prominent as he scoops a glob of pink cotton candy ice cream onto a sugar cone. “People actually like this crap?”

You merely shrug in response before sliding the freezer door shut and opening the next. It goes like this for nearly half and hour before Vickie stumbles in from the service entrance, her cheeks tinged pink and accompanied by a dazed look in her eye.

“Sorry, sorry!” She frantically apologizes, clocking in with her punch card.

Tying on an apron, which Eddie never bothered to do, she greets the customers at the till and rings them up while you make what could very well be the hundredth shake ordered that day, the mixer revving loudly over your retort.

“I’ll allow it,” You turn with a knowing smirk to Vickie, “But you owe me big time, Little Red.”

“Details?” She squeaks.

“Oh, that and more Vic,” You laugh as the machine whirs to a stop.

Deftly, you pour the shake into a cup and shake the canister of whipped cream vigorously. Eddie tries and fails to hide the blush coloring his cheeks as your shirt rides up with the motion. The ‘JERK’ emblazoned on your chest pulling taut against the swell of your breasts from the movement.

He nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Shit,” He rasps as his throat pulls tight.

Passing the shake over with a polite smile to a customer, you thump him forcefully on the back.

Which would be all well and good, if not for the fact that he wasn’t expecting it, and, as a result, falls bodily into your chest, legs tangling with yours, and takes the pair of you down to the mat behind the counter.

“Ow.”

Peering open an eye, he finds Vickie, arms crossed and toe tapping the tile floor, looking down at the both of you with a bemused pull of her lips.

“See, this is why it’s employees only behind the counter,” You say with a grunt as you peel yourself from the floor. “You’re not OSHA certified, Munson.”

Eddie digs the heel of his palms into his eye sockets, hoping that maybe he can just sink into the floor and forget this ever happened.

Because you’re warm, what with having worked up a sweat manning the counter single-handedly and your legs are nice; too nice maybe, with the way his heart is kicking up in his chest, to say nothing of what’s kicking up in his pants.

“Sorry,” He sighs, coming to a seated position. “Are you okay?”

Dusting your hands against the denim cutoffs you’re sporting, you turn and give him a smile. “Never better.”

Legs still tangled, you unwind your limbs from his, crisp white Keds knocking against scuffed Reeboks. He takes the hand you offer and allows himself to be pulled up, only to be greeted by six beatific smiles and less than subtle winks or nods.

“Sooooo,” Dustin drawls, fingers drumming against the glass of the freezer, “Fun trip?”

The ensuing laughter and taunts from what was formerly his favorite group of high schoolers, is enough to make Eddie miss the solitude of Reefer Rick’s cabin.

_

If May was a sprint, then June was a dive into cool water.

Rope swings lassoed around tree branches, splashing into a placid lake from great heights. Blankets spread on rocks and grass for makeshift picnics. The hum of cicadas as lips wrapped around lifted bottles of booze from the Harrington’s liquor cabinet.

Nearly a month gone and Eddie still hadn’t worked up the courage.

Which is how he found himself perched on rock formation that bordered Lover’s Lake with the boys— Harrington, Byers, and Argyle— playing barely tipsy lifeguard as you swam circles around Nancy, Robin, and Vickie. The latter two had somehow wound themselves into a Gordian Knot of limbs and had earned an eagle-eyed glare from one former captain of the swim team.

“Go to the shallows!” Steve called out, a half-empty bottle of whiskey at his feet. “No, Rob,” He huffed and stood up, “You gotta use your arms, like this!” He demonstrated with a perfect backstroke that Robin seemed woefully unequipped to replicate.

“What?!”

Robin’s befuddled call echoed against the rocks lining the shore and spurned Steve into action.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, passing the bottle off to Eddie. “Stay there ya dingus!”

Steve’s body elegantly cut into the water and he surfaced to a smattering of applause from those still perched on the rock.

“Good form, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Eddie decreed before taking long pull from the bottle.

“Now way man,” Argyle piped up, “That’s at least a 9.The way he slipped into the water like that? Some top tier stuff right there.”

He elbowed Jonathan who was preoccupied with blowing rings from his joint.

“Huh? Oh, uh. 5?”

Steve merely rolled his eyes and swam toward Robin and Vickie, who where no closer to shore now than they were when this whole charade began.

“You’re shitting me dude. A 5 out of 10?”

“Oh, fuck.” Jonathan completed one rather slow blink in Eddie’s direction. “I thought it was like, out of five. My bad.”

Argyle called out the new score from the judges to Steve, who had his hands full with Robin and Vickie’s frantically kicking and thrashing limbs, so much so, that he was rather relieved when you swam up beside him to help.

Eddie placed the bottle between his feet and leaned back on his hands, face turned toward the night sky.

Stars littered the inky blue like so many twinkling lights. A few lightning bugs buzzed further along the edge of the wood, a soft yellow glow to guide through the dark. The lake grew calm again, small lapping waves skirting the shore as distant voices grew closer.

“Hey man,” Argyle nudged Eddie’s shoulder with his, knocking him from his reverie. “How’s our favorite soda jerk?”

He smiled despite himself, “She’s fine, I guess.”

“Hmm. And Operation Meatball?”

Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes, “Henderson got to you too, I see. That kid needs to get a hobby.”

Dustin, and the rest of his band of hellions, had gotten it into their heads that Eddie and you were destined to be. Had an entire notebook dedicated to plans and named the whole endeavor after a scene from Lady and the Tramp, which Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to protest.

“I dunno dude,” Argyle shrugged, “She’s schmokin and I may have seen her eye you a time or two.”

He was glad for the cover of night, because his face felt positively on fire.

“You know, if you’d—” Argyle began, only to get cut off by the sound of approaching footfalls.

“Hey guys,” You greeted, stepping onto the rock and dripping water onto Eddie’s arm. “Oh, shit, sorry Ed!” You take a step back and grab a towel from a nearby bag. Tying your hair up in the striped towel, you settle back at his side. “Ooh, got any more of that?”

He follows your eyes to the bottle at his feet, and stretches to grab it. Your damp fingers brush his along the neck of the bottle, and he, impossibly, blushes all the more.

“S’all yours.”

“Much obliged,” You say with a nod toward him.

Your lips wrap around the bottle, and Eddie can’t help but watch a rivulet of water trickle its way down your throat. His fingers itch to chase it, his tongue longs to taste it.

Jonathan deploys a well-timed cough and pointed glance in Eddie’s direction to excuse himself and Argyle.

“Catch you later chica,” Argyle promises with a grasp to your shoulder, “Lemme know when that horchata flavor comes in!”

You promise to do so with a laugh and a wave, before turning your attention back to the water. Eddie sits at your side, quiet, save for the movemnt of his fingers as he fiddles with his rings. There’s a few sounds from Steve dutifully pouring Robin and Vickie into the BMW with conferring with Nancy as she wrangles Jonathan and Argyle into the station wagon.

“You good?”

Turning at the sound of Nancy’s voice, Eddie can see your mouth pull into a smile, the white of your teeth bringing to mind a cheshire cat. Your elbow knocks into his as you duck toward him conspiratorially.

“Whaddya say, Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

Lightning bugs float around your damp hair that’s fallen from its turban, water slick waves drying slowly in the summer heat. A halo blurry gold around your head, Eddie loses all faculty of language, lost in the soft glow cast against your sun warmed skin.

“Take me home?”

He merely nods in response, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“I’m good!” You call back to Nancy and take another pull from the bottle.

“Call me when you’re home!”

The sound of car engines turning over fills the air, tires crunching over gravel and dried pine needles littering the forest floor. The heat of the day quickly dissipates, replaced with a soft breeze that alleviates a bit of the humidity. And it’s quiet on the shore, save for the clinking of the bottle as you take sips every so often.

For all his gregarious and dramatic antics, truth be told, Eddie didn’t quite know how to simply be. At least, not since spring break with the nearly dying and all of that. He’d returned to the land of the living a little more somber, recovering in the hospital between hushed tones from doctors and nurses, louder exclamations from Henderson and his brood, the comforting weight of Wayne’s hand at his shoulder.

Sure, he’d rallied.

Put on a brave face for the kids, found familiarity in a strained smile mirrored in Steve. Noticed his own body jerking in time with Robin’s at the sound of an unanticipated loud noise. Was quick to cover his discomfort with a joke buoyed by Argyle’s raucous laugh. Found himself helping Nancy plan outings to take everyone’s mind off of things. Sought out Jonathan to share a smoke when it all got to be too much.

But you—

He never minded the quiet with you.

Eddie could maybe, for a moment, let it fall away.

A clink of a glass bottle broke his reverie as it joined the others discarded on the ground.

“This is nice,” You said with a languid stretch, arms raised above your head and falling in a graceful arc as you settled back against the rock.

He had to agree.

“Can I uh, ask you something?”

Your voice had taken on an unfamiliar tone, almost as if you made yourself smaller and unsure. It wasn’t his favorite, he had to admit. Eddie preferred the unapologetic way you carried yourself, a royal flush of confidence which you bandied about with no inhibitions.

Timid didn’t suit you, at least, not in his humble opinion.

He knocked shoulders with you, tried to inject some levity into his voice.

“Shoot.”

“Well,” You squirmed next to him, “And you don’t have to answer this if like, it makes you uncomfortable— the last thing I wanna do is offend you, swear to God.” You take a breath to steel yourself. “I just, I noticed you weren’t swimming today.”

“Ah.”

“I mean,” You clear your throat, “You really never swim, not at Steve’s pool, not here. So.”

“Are you asking if I can swim?” He jokes, “Because, I’m definitely capable. Dear old Dad threw me into a creek,” crick, “And told me to get on with it.”

A hushed laugh falls from your lips, “So, you can but you don’t. Any reason why?”

“Well that,” He says, softer now, “Is quite the story.”

You hum, content with the response not pushing for more than he’s willing to share.

“Tell me someday?”

And oh, is he in trouble. Because the odds of that are more far likely than you’d think.

You’re quick to pack up after that. Eddie trails after you, tossing an odd can or cigarette butt into a trash bag and hauling it to the van. He scratches the light stubble of his jaw, nail catching along the scar decorating his cheek. It’s not as bad as it had been, mostly white with pink tinged edges, and receding into his jawline enough to slip most notice.

It’s not that Eddie regrets the scars, he did what he had to do— the whorls of pink and white puckered skin that now embellished him from hip to shoulder were a simple reminder of that.

Just not one that he’s keen to advertise.

He lets you fiddle with the radio, static crackling through the speakers before the opening riff of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” sails through. An easy smile lights up your face as you lean back in the seat and sing along.

I’ll be with you my darling, soon, I’ll be with you when the stars start falling

His grip tightens on the wheel and he wills himself to focus on the road ahead and not the soft croon of your voice. Which is kind of difficult given how sweet you sound, how desperate he is for your touch.

He rolls up to your apartment complex by the song’s end, having had the pleasure of your signing for the duration of the drive. And Eddie’s probably biased, but he thinks you could give Jack Bruce a run for his money.

He parks the van in front of your building, letting it idle as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You’re grooving a little bit in your seat, and Eddie allows himself a moment to be selfish— gazing as you shake out your mostly dry hair and sway in time to the song, a secret smile pulling at his lips.

Opening your eyes, you meet his gaze. Leaning over the consol, your fingers caress his jaw, turning him to face you fully. The soft pad of your index finger trails down the scar of his jaw, lingering there as you smile, a little different from before.

Softer, somehow. As if it’s just for him.

I’ve been waiting so long, to be where I’m going in the sunshine of your love.

_

But July—

July passes like a dream, as delightful as the sugary syrup currently crawling its way down your arm. The bomb pop melting all too quickly in the height of the summer sun, trickles of red, white, and blue cascade down your sun hewn skin.

A screech pierces the air as Eddie leans over from his seat on the Harrington’s patio to lick the drips from your arm.

Loud enough to draw the attention of the kids and soon his soft huffs of laughter as replaced with a prolonged “Eeeewwww,” from the girls and an offended scoff of “Gross,” from Henderson.

“Can it!” Steve says, volleying a beach ball at his head, knocking his ever-preset baseball cap into the chlorinated water.

Eddie nods in thanks before continuing his assault of your arm.

“Shit, babe, no teeth!”

He ignores this and elects to dig his teeth into the temptation of your skin. You swat him away and recline back in your chair, Raybans affixed to your face, a pout on your lips.

“You’re no fun,” He grouses, kicking back in his recliner. “You use teeth.”

“Artfully,” You quip back in reply, “Poetry will be written about the exploits of my chompers, the deftness, the skill with which I decorate canvases of skin.”

And well yeah, Eddie would know. He has several bruises blossoming along his torso and thighs from said exploits.

So he really couldn’t complain.

He lets the clubmasters slide back onto his face, the blue polarized lenses giving the scene a cooler, dreamier tint. His hand falls to the side, fingers walking their way over to tangle with yours. You give him a quick squeeze before turning your attention back to your latest bookstore acquisition, The Handmaid’s Tale.

In fact, once Eddie got over himself and blurted out some amalgamation of ‘Can I take you out?’, you’d booped him on the nose in response, much to his horror, and waited a beat to say:

“Sure thing, stud,” — Eddie’s summer had only gotten better.

Was it annoying to have near daily occurrence of high schoolers singing “Summer Lovin’” at him? Yes. Were you worth it? Obviously.

Eddie had attempted to date, briefly and disastrously, in the past. In that respect, maybe he was a little gun shy.

But one night stands? Quickies? Handies after a deal at a party? Bjs in the back of the van?

Yeah, that he’d done. And was definitely the more enthusiastic partner in retrospect. And now, with you?

Well, suffice it to say that your first round in the sack wasn’t exactly picture perfect, and he’d nearly gotten a broken nose for all his effort. But, y’know, learning curve and all that, maybe some lighting was required so he could avoid getting socked in the mouth or something.

“Yuck, what is that?” Dustin says with thinly veiled annoyance, gesturing to your hand clasped in Eddie’s. “Hands Across America?”

“The fuck,” Eddie perks up, squinting as he flips his sunglasses onto his forehead. “Hands doing what now?”

“Pfft,” You blow a raspberry and lazily thumb over to a new page, “You don’t even know what day it is, or what’s going on.”

“Yeah, and I wish I knew even less.”

“Hands Across America was months ago, by the way.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Really and truly.”

“So, hey,” Eddie ignores Dustin’s gagging and turns toward you in earnest. “D’ya like sex?”

“Uh huh.”

“And travel, you like that, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well then, sweetheart,” He drops your hand from his, drawing your interest away from the plot.

You huff, perturbed by the interruption and glance his way.

“Then you can fuck right off.”

Eddie raises a solitary finger elegantly, aristocratically even. Something practiced time and time again until it became second nature. It’d be kind of impressive if he weren’t so damned annoying about it, flipping the bird every chance he got.

A trait that, unfortunately, the young Wheeler had adopted as his own.

Despite yourself, a laugh breaks from your lips, loud enough to draw the other’s attention from the pool.

“God, I hate you.”

“Really and truly?”

“Oh, you bet sunshine.”

Unbeknownst to the pair of you, Steve and Robin had corralled the kids out of the pool and lured them away with the promise of pizza. Nancy sidles out from the sliding glass door with the cordless in hand, tossing it over to Eddie.

“We got the usual— cheese, pepperoni, and cheesy bread. But I know you’re particular, so.”

“Right on, Wheels. Good lookin’ out.”

Eddie grabs for you again fingers twining with yours as he rattles off the usual to the pizza guy as Nancy makes her way back inside.

“Hey man, can I get an order of mushroom and black olive with the banana peppers and a shit ton of red pepper flakes? Uh huh, yeah.”

He pulls the phone away from his face, tucking it against his jaw to mouth something to you.

You watch his lips, red from one too many popsicles, form the words.

“Garlic sauce? Hell yeah.”

He returns to the call.

“And the— Oh, you heard that? Cool. Thanks, man.”

He hangs up and tosses the phone onto a rumpled pile of towels, tugging at your arm.

“Ugh, what,” You grouse, finally dropping your book on the patio.

“You’re so far away,” He whines, draping the back of his hand across his forehead to heave a woeful sigh. “Oh, when will my beloved return from the war?”

You roll your eyes and clamber over to his pool chair, straddling his hips. “Okay, calm down Scarlett. Tara is thattaway.” You hike a thumb somewhere in the general vicinity of what you’re pretty sure is south. You laugh and crawl your way into his lap.

And, here’s the thing:

It’s easy.

A foreign concept in Eddie’s life up until this particular point.

Which is to say, that since the advent of your relationship with him, Eddie found himself spending more time on his knees than he ever had amongst the pews.

While there’s no catechism for for this particular piety, he’ll take this act of communion for what it is—

His lips and tongue spouting devotionals as he kneels between your thighs. And he’d never been one for God, but maybe He’d made it so two bodies can fit holy wholly together.

After all, he’d been penitent enough.

You twine a streamer of his hair around your finger, head slotting into the cul-de-sac of his throat. His arms wind about your hips, anchoring you in place.

Steve sticks his head out to say he’s forcing the kids on a field-trip to get the pizza, Nance and Robin are grabbing some drinks from the store.

You hum in idle contentment and sink further into Eddie, as if he could consume you entire.

If my body is of your body and your body is of mine, can ever the two be parted? What lies in me now does in you, a reflection in kind.

The marks that decorate his skin, both intentional and accidental, fail to define him.

If they ever really could.

You’d traced their shape, plotted their paths, and transmuted them before his very eyes. The weight, the lead sinking and skittering and pulling him down was no more.

“If I could,” you’d said softly one night, a riot of arms and legs tangled against his own, a lone finger rhapsodizing against his ribs, travelling a familiar continent. “I’d paint you golden.”

No, not gilt.

But gold.

It still daunts Eddie how freely he fell— for you and the effervescent joy that flourished in your wake. It used to unnerve him, if he thought about it too much. For the longest time, he wasn’t sure if what he felt was real, or simply a facsimile of love.

He learned not to dawdle in his darker moods.

He’d hummed at your declaration, so much more accustomed to gloomier comparisons. You’d turned up at him, cleaving your chin across the ladder of his ribs, eyes big and brighter than any star he’d ever seen.

And he hadn’t known what to say.

Weeks had passed and he still hadn’t a clue how to respond.

“Hey,” Dustin yells, striding out of the sliding glass door. “Dinner’s ready!” He waits impatiently, striking a similar pose to that of Steve when he’s at his wit’s end.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, shooing him away and slinging a leg off of the recliner.

He takes you with him, much to your protest.

“Noooo,” you whine, “Eddie, the physical therapist said—”

“That I’m fine,” He reminds you, securing his grip under your thighs as he carries you inside the house.

Your petulant pout demands satisfaction, and he acquiesces, dipping his head to yours in a quick kiss.

“Y’know,” he says, voice rumbling and low as everyone fixes up their plates in the kitchen. He sets you on the island counter, his hands spread just past your thighs, arms loosely caging you in.

He smells like summer— sugar and chlorine and salt and the tell-tale wisp of a cigarette. His hair is loose and wild, sheltering you from prying eyes as he rests his head against yours.

It hits him like a thunderclap and descends as quickly as revelation.

“I’d follow you into the sun.”

It’s not a declaration, but a simple fact.

Love.

He’d tell you someday, but not quite yet.

For now, he’ll watch your lips kick up in that adorable smile of yours, the kind that crinkles the corner of your eyes from the sheer amount of joy packed in it. Allowing himself to float on the thinnest of air just for a moment.

This summer, you’ve been his North Star, always there.

And he hopes you always will be.

[kteezy997]

I neeeed something with Timmy being a jealous ex with smut

the ex boyfriend//t.c.

Warnings: drinking alcohol, cursing, jealous Timmy, smut, sex in a car, dirty talk, possessive Timmy

It had been a month since you and Timmy broke up for good after being together for three years. You had really believed that he was the one, that you would be married and have kids with him. But his career had really boomed in the last year, and he was busier than ever. You seemed to fade from his mind in the process.

But that was the past, and you needed to start seeing other people, to help take your mind off your ex. So, your friend so kindly introduced you to a friend of her boyfriend's. His name was Owen, and you had texted for a few days and facetimed twice, and he asked you out for a couple of drinks. He was cute and sweet, and you were excited to get to know someone new, so you said yes.

You had picked out a cute outfit, did your hair and makeup. You had almost forgotten how fun it was to have a reason to get all dressed up. Timmy would always compliment your outfits and your hair, and it made you feel so confident when you were with him.

Owen was so polite in person and hugged you when you arrived outside of the bar. He then opened the door for you and you both walked in. You idly scanned over the room for a table or a pair of seats at the bar. And your heart dropped to your stomach as you saw the brown, messy waves on Timmy's head. As if on cue, he looked up and you made eye contact. Your heart ached seeing those green eyes. You looked away immediately.

"Hey, something wrong?" Owen asked, noticing your odd behavior.

"Uh, oh god, I'm sorry. It's just... my ex is here. We broke up a month ago."

"Oh, did you want to leave?"

"No, no," you shook your head, "it's fine. He already saw me. Let's just sit on the other side of the bar."

.....

You had sat down, gotten a round of drinks and Owen asked about your job, so you told him all about it. Then, he told you about his job working in marketing for a beer company.

The more you talked with him, you realized that he really liked to drink alcohol and party, which really wasn't that attractive to you, not at your age. But you were kind, continued to sip your drink and nod along to whatever he was saying.

As the waiter came over and Owen ordered more drinks, you noticed someone walking over to your table. You knew exactly who it was. No matter how crowded a place may be, you would always be able to pick out Timmy. Part of you was excited to see him, even more so considering how boring this date had turned out to be.

"Y/n." Timmy nodded, approaching your table, "Sorry I don't want to intrude. Just wanted to say hi, and see how you were doing."

"Ah, is this the dreaded ex?" Owen teased.

"Owen, this is Timothee." you said, looking at each of them as you said your names. You felt awkward, as you had never been in this position before.

"You got a new boyfriend already?" Timmy asked spitefully.

"No," you rolled your eyes, "it's a first date. Don't act like you've remained pure and chaste since we broke up, Timmy."

He shrugged, "I have been."

You scoffed, "Okay, whatever."

"I have! I'm sorry for being a dick..."

"I don't care." you grumbled, "I'm on a date, can we not do this now? Or ever?"

"You're saying you never want to talk to me again?" he seemed genuinely hurt by the thought.

"Hey buddy, just fuck off, like she wants you to." Owen piped up.

You and Timmy both glared at him, "You don't have to talk to him like that. And I can take care of this myself, Owen, thank you."

Owen chuckled in annoyance, "Okay, well you can make pretty boy disappear while I'm in the bathroom. I'll be right back."

As your date left the table, you looked at your ex.

Timmy spoke up as soon as the other man was out of earshot. "What the hell are you doing going out with that guy? Seems like an asshole to me."

"Well, you just don't know him." you said.

"Oh, and you do?"

"Yeah." you lied. You could see the fury in Timmy's eyes and his nostrils flaring.

"Well, he should have better manners. He needs to treat you better."

"Timothee, how would you react if your date's ex-boyfriend popped in on you? I don't think you'd handle it well either."

"I would have some respect, or at least some common decency. Which Owen does not seem to have."

You put your hands up, "Okay, I'm tired of this conversation. I think you just need to leave before Owen comes back."

“Yeah,” Timmy looked down, “yeah, I’m sorry. Listen, this guy obviously cares more about his beer than you, so if you want, I’ll be waiting for you in my car outside. I’d love it if you met me out there.”

“You want me to ditch my date for you?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, kinda.” he smirked. “Even if you don’t, it was good to see you.” he smiled sweetly, giving you a nod before he walked away.

You watched Timmy leave, not even noticing Owen return to the table.

“Thank God, he’s gone. What a douchebag.” he scoffed, grabbing his beer mug and taking a big swig of it.

“No,” you countered, “he’s really not. Just cause he’s an ex doesn’t make him an asshole.”

“Okay. Whatever.” he said, trying to seem unfazed, “Want another drink?”

"No, I don't think I do. I'm going to go. Thank you for the date, but I don't think this is going to go anywhere, Owen. Goodbye."

He laughed smugly, "Whatever, you're no fun anyway." He took another long gulp of his beer, not even looking in your direction.

You just rolled your eyes and walked out of the bar.

.......

Like a magnet, you were drawn to Timothee's car in the parking lot. You were curious about what he wanted from you. You missed him. You missed everything about your relationship: how safe and warm you felt with him.

You walked up seeing him nursing an orange Gatorade bottle. He was sitting in the car with the door open.

He heard your footsteps and looked up at you with a happy little grin. "Hey, I thought you weren't gonna come."

“Yeah well, I guess you thought wrong.” you crossed your feet where you stood, "So, why did you want me to come here, Timothee?"

"Because I miss you, y/n, and I hated seeing you with that idiot in there."

"Oh, just jealousy then?" you crossed your arms.

"I mean, yeah." he stood up, "You’re my girl, you have been since I met you. Nothing feels right without you, and I can’t stand the thought of someone else having you.” You noticed his jawline twitched. His eyes were dark when he spoke.

“Hmm, what are you gonna do about it?”

Timmy’s eyes widened some and his lips turned up into a grin. He nodded toward the car, “Get in.”

……

You both hopped into the back seat of his car, which was luckily a spacious full-size SUV. You were making out with him like you were a couple of wild animals in mating season.

“I was not expecting this to happen tonight.” he said with a chuckle as he took your face in his hand.

“Me neither. I’ve missed you so much, Timmy.” you said in a breathy pant.

“I’ve missed you.” he said, leaning in to kiss your neck, “I’ve missed your skin.” he moved to the other side of your neck, sucking there a moment. You felt his hands on your back, “And the way you feel in my arms.” He inhaled, and you knew he was taking in your perfume, like a dose of medicine to heal something inside of him, “I’ve been dying without your scent,” then returning to kiss your mouth, he said, “and your lips.” He moaned into the kiss. “I’ve missed everything. It’s true, I haven’t been with anyone else. Just working, and thinking about you, y/n.”

He was making you more needy by the syllable. You trembled with anticipation. You put your hands on either side of his head, combing the curls back with your fingers. You looked in his eyes, his pupils were overtaking his green irises. “I want you.” you said softly.

Timmy then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and you looked down to see his cock already hard for you and leaking with precum. You missed seeing it. His cock was perfect.

He sat back and you straddled his lap, pulling your panties to the side. You settled onto him, allowing his length to fill you up. “Uhh.” you whimpered, closing your eyes as you felt the pressure inside you.

He wrapped his arms around you as you started to bob your hips up and down. “Fuck yeah. Owen doesn’t deserve this feeling. It’s my privilege and mine alone.”

You grabbed his face, smashing your lips against his. You moved your hips faster and faster. The enclosed space of the car made your noises almost bounce off of each other and amplify.

"Mm, yes, fuck me, baby." Timmy cooed, pressing his hands onto your ass.

You let out a whimper, sloppily grinding against him. "Fuck, this is so good." you cried.

After a moment, he made you stop so he could lay you on your side. Your face was pressed onto the leather seat. Now with your bodies perpendicular, he entered you, holding onto your thigh.

"Ahhh." you moaned. The sensation was a little painful in this position at first. But the faster he fucked you, the more wet you became, and it was easier for him to slide in and out.

Within a few more minutes, Timmy leaned down onto your body, slipped his arm between your breasts and his hand clamped onto your shoulder. You were face-to-face, he was kissing your cheek, and you were both sweating. Your hair stuck to your neck because of the dampness.

"Owen will never get this feeling, not with my girl." He continued to slam his hips into your ass, with damp smacking sounds.

It was all so much, so intense, you were forced to come around his cock.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.65k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, death is mentioned and tyler gets close to it not explicitly, kissing, swearing, baby as a nickname for your lover, lot of made up family members + names

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole family, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could never biologically create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, pressing his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soup catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front door when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head towards Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem too far off.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's that of an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"...and now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or three along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

You could spend eternity like this.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

One of the carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Hi! I was the anonymous requester who you said your new fic coming out forever my heart sounds like! If possible could you make it separate so I’ll have more to read! Also if you could add Kylian being her first everything like even kiss!

This is the longest fic I've written up to date and I'm beat. Sorry it came out a little later than I planned.

Love Heals

Masterlist

𝒔��𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — request: «Ok please make this long again but maybe something with Kylian where reader had a really hard life working full time sometimes overtime and multiple jobs with an abusive family while going to school like her sister would bully her, mom abuse her and dad was neglectful and her jobs were terrible too like she has burns from working fast food and him being emotional and shocked because she is so happy all the time and her finally deciding to tell him after a long time like something like a fight or something like he proposes to her makes her tell him and how she is scared to trust him and tells him shes looking to get married»

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 11.k

Warnings! ANGST!! Abuse, abusive family, injury, violence, burns, referencing to past hurts, depictions of violence, insecurities, anxiety, trauma, self-conscious reader, anxious reader FLUFF! lots of comfort, protective Kylian, he would kill for you, mild smut at the end, unprotected sex, soft sex, soft Kylian

The restaurant was busier than usual tonight.

Every table seemed to fill as quickly as it was cleared, and you found yourself darting between the kitchen and the dining area without a moment to catch your breath. The clatter of dishes and the murmur of voices blended into a chaotic symphony around you.

The only thing you could do to get the orders done on time was to run. Your feet were aching in pain, you were so tired you felt like collapsing to the ground. Your hands were shaking, you were holding three plates in one hand.

Despite the ache in your legs and the fatigue weighing down your shoulders, you pushed forward. You had to.

This is how your typical day went— gruesome, tiring, a relentless cycle of exhaustion that demanded everything you had to give.

As you hurried past a table, a customer’s voice cut through the chaos, harsh and dismissive.

“Hey!” the man shouted, “You messed up my order again.”

You froze, the plates of food suddenly too heavy to hold. Your heart sank as you turned around to face the angry customer. You immediately recognized him. Sam.

He had come to the restaurant a few weeks ago and tried to flirt with you. You turned him down, and ever since, he had made it his mission to make your life a living hell.

He comes in every day and just harasses you, knowing you can't really do anything about him because he's a customer.

You're usually good at handling the situation, most of the time just letting him run his mouth. Mostly just insults and catcalls. You endure it. But he's been ordering drinks all night, and the restaurant is packed.

Using all the patience you could muster, you took a deep breath and made your way to him. “I apologize, sir. What seems to be the problem?”

“I said you messed up my order, bitch,” he growled.

You flinched at his tone, feeling the familiar sting of shame. But you kept your composure. “I apologize for the inconvenience. May I know what you ordered so that I can correct the problem?”

Before you could take note of his order, he stood up. “Fuck you,” he sneered. He threw the glass of liquid at you. The strong alcoholic smell tells you that it's whiskey.

The cool beverage soaked your clothes, a stark contrast to the warmth of the burns you received earlier from the grill. You didn’t even notice the pain anymore, the stinging sensation was normal now.

“Get m-me a new... new drink!” he continued. His voice grew louder, and you could hear his slurred words. Drunk.

You could feel eyes on you, but you tried not to look anywhere. The customers and the waiters were all staring. You felt the hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Excuse me." You heard a man's voice from the table next to Sam's. You looked over. A tall, handsome man was looking at you with concern.

He was seated with a group of friends, all of whom had stopped their conversation to watch the unfolding scene. The man stood up, his presence commanding immediate attention.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked, his voice calm yet firm. His eyes, kind yet resolute, met yours for a brief moment before shifting to Sam.

Sam sneered at the newcomer. "This doesn't concern you," he slurred, his words barely coherent. "This is between me and her."

The man stepped closer, his posture unyielding, his body shielding you from Sam's view. For some reason, you felt safe with him here. "It does concern me. You're being abusive, and that's not acceptable."

Sam's face twisted in anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he spat, trying to push the man away. But the man didn't budge.

With a calm yet authoritative voice, the unnamed man responded, "I'm someone who won't stand by and let you treat her like this." His tone was steady, unwavering, and it seemed to cut through the drunken haze clouding Sam's mind.

Sam glared at him, his drunken bravado faltering. "Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?" he challenged, though his voice wavered slightly.

The man glanced around, noticing the restaurant manager approaching with what seemed to be a concerned look. But you knew better.

Richard’s never cared for your well-being or any of his employees, for that matter. He was a money-hungry man who only cared about the restaurant’s reputation and how much money we were bringing in.

Working for him was a nightmare, but you had no choice. This was the highest-paying job you had and the only reason why you could pay your tuition for the semester.

He approached quickly, his eyes flicking between Sam and the newcomer, assessing the situation.

“Is everything alright here?” Richard asked, his voice tight. His eyes were piecing daggers at your form, and you subconsciously cowarded into the man standing next to you.

“Actually, it’s not,” the man said, turning to Richard. “This customer has been harassing your staff. It needs to stop.”

Richard’s expression hardened, though he managed a tight smile. “I see. I’ll handle it from here.” He glanced at you, a warning in his eyes, before turning to Sam. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Sam’s drunken rage flared again. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m a paying customer!” He shoved his chair back, nearly toppling it over, and lunged at Richard. But before he could do any more damage, the stranger intervened, stepping between them with practiced ease.

“Let’s not make this any worse,” the man said calmly, placing a firm hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You’ve had too much to drink. It’s time to go.” As he said that, two men from the table he was previously sat at stood up to join him, their presence reinforcing his authority. Sam looked between the three men, his drunken bravado quickly dissipating into defeat.

Richard, seizing the moment, nodded curtly. "I'll call you a cab," he said, signaling to one of the other waitstaff to assist. Sam, now subdued, allowed himself to be led away, grumbling under his breath but offering no further resistance.

The tension in the room slowly dissipated, and you felt your shoulders sag with relief while your stomach turned with dread. Richard was going to make you pay for this. For losing a customer. For causing a scene.

The tall, handsome man turned back to you, his expression softening. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his eyes scanning your soaked clothes and the fatigue etched on your face.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you with a slight quiver. "Yes, thank you. I’m sorry you had to get involved."

He shook his head, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Don't be. No one should have to deal with that alone. I'm Kylian."

"Y/N," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Kylian said warmly, his eyes never leaving yours. He was about to say something else when Richard interrupted.

"Y/N I need to speak with you, now," Richard barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kylian must've seen the fear in your eyes because he stepped closer to you, almost shielding you from Richard. Your heart fluttered at his gesture but you knew what would happen if you didn't listen.

You reached out a shaky hand and tapped him on the shoulder, your eyes silently communicating that you were okay. He stared at you for a second analyzing your features before nodding slightly and stepping out of the way, making you face Richard again.

Richard’s eyes narrowed at the interaction, wondering How you knew Kylian Mbappé. But decided not to say anything. He looked at you. "Go change your clothes. Meet me in my office in 10 minutes."

You nodded looking at Kylian one more time before scurrying away.

****

Kylian watched you leave, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. Something about you tugged at his heart, drawing him in.

He had first noticed you when he came in. You were a small, maybe 5'0. Your hair was dark, but he could tell it was dyed, your natural color peeking from the roots. You had soft eyes and full lips that seemed to curve into a smile every time you took an order. Your uniform hung loose on you, he could tell you were thin, but not in a healthy way. He had to do a double-take when he saw your name tag.

Y/N.

For some reason, it causes butterflies to erupt in his stomach. He decided then that before the night ended, he would talk to you. Charm you. Get your number.

He spent the whole night watching you as you bustled around the restaurant, taking orders and delivering food with a grace that belied the chaos that seemed to surround you.

And then he saw Sam. The way he talked to you, the way he treated you, made Kylian's blood boil. He had been about to intervene when you came over to Sam’s table, and it was then that he noticed your arm.

Peaking just out of your sleeve was what looked like a burn. It was red, fresh. The sight made his heart clench. What happened to you? Did it hurt?

When Sam started yelling at you, Kylian knew he couldn't stay seated anymore. He stood up and had to fight the urge to punch Sam in the face when he threw a drink at you.

The restaurant bustled around Kylian as he watched you hurry away. Without thinking, his feet moved to follow you, but Hakimi caught his arm. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I just... I need to make sure she's okay," Kylian said, his voice filled with concern.

His friend raised an eyebrow but nodded, letting go of his arm. The look on Kylian's face was unlike anything he had ever seen. The pure concern in his eyes was so heavy that it took him back. He had never seen such desperation in the man. All to follow you.

Kylian nodded and made his way towards the back of the restaurant, following the path you had taken.

Meanwhile, in the small staff restroom, you stood in front of the mirror, trying to steady your breathing. The whiskey-soaked uniform clung to your skin, and the cold, damp fabric made you shiver. But the chill didn’t compare to the icy fear that gripped your heart.

Richard was going to be furious. You had to figure out how to calm him down before it was too late. You pulled off your uniform and began to change, your hands shaking as you tried to button up your spare shirt. You were so tired. Your body felt like a weight was pressing down on it, making it impossible to move.

A knock at the door startled you out of your reverie. “Hello, are you okay? Do you need any help?” a deep voice called out.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you realized it was Kylian. You quickly finished changing and opened the door, revealing him standing there, concern etched on his face. His eyes softened as he took in your appearance, still damp from the spilled drink but now clad in fresh clothes.

"Hey," he said gently, eyes scanning your figure for injuries. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

You managed a small, grateful smile, touched by his genuine concern. "Thank you, I'm okay," you replied softly, though you couldn't hide the lingering unease in your eyes.

He nodded, his expression serious yet comforting. "Is there anything I can do?" Kylian asked, his tone sincere.

Before you could respond, a sharp voice interrupted from behind him. "Y/N, my office. Now." It was Richard, his impatience palpable.

You glanced nervously at Kylian, who met your gaze with a look you couldn't decipher. You forced a weak smile before hurrying past him towards Richard's office.

****

Kylian stood rooted to the spot, watching you disappear down the hallway. His stomach twisted with worry. But then he heard Richard’s voice, his words barely concealed by the thin office door. Kylian felt a knot of anger in his chest as he heard Richard berate you.

You were fired.

Kylian clenched his fists, barely controlling the urge to barge in and set Richard straight. But he knew that would only make things worse for you.

As soon as he saw you leave Richard’s office, he made his way over to you. “Are you okay,” he repeated. It's all he seemed to ask you since you met him. It made your heart flutter how much he cared. Even if he didn't know you.

You looked up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying. He felt his chest clench with regret. If he had known Richard was going to fire you, he would've never left you alone. “yeah, I'm fine, ” you sniffled, forcing a smile.

He reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. Your skin was soft, delicate. You froze at his touch and he quickly removed his hand.

Contrôle toi, mon vieux, c'est pas le temps. He scolded himself.

The air became awkward as you stared at each other. His fingers itched to touch you again. He cleared his throat breaking the silence. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, his voice low. You shook your head.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

Kylian sighed. He couldn't leave you like this. “Can I at least drive you home?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

You hesitated, your instincts telling you to refuse, but the exhaustion in your body won you over. "I... I guess that would be okay," you murmured.

Kylian's face brightened with relief. "Great. Let me just grab my things."

As he walked back to his table to collect his belongings, you took a moment to steady yourself. Tonight had been draining, emotionally and physically, and the idea of spending a few more moments with him was strangely comforting.

You didn't know what to make of Kylian's attention, but right now, you would enjoy every bit you could get.

Kylian returned quickly, his friends giving him knowing looks as he walked away. He led you to the door, a protective hand gently guiding you out of the crowded restaurant.

****

The car ride was quiet, with the only sound being the soft hum of the music playing from the speakers. You couldn't help but stare at Kylian as he drove.

He was handsome. Tall and lean. His skin was dark, a soft brown. His eyes were brown, the deepest you had ever seen. He had nice lips and a sharp jawline.

He looked back at you every now and then, checking that you were still there. The gesture made a warmth bloom in your chest.

Never had anyone stood up for you the way he had. A complete stranger at that. Even though you had just met, and it was stupid of you to get into a stranger's car and let him drive you home. You had never felt more safe than in this moment. With him. Beside him.

You wanted him to keep driving, take you far away from everything.

The halt of the car jolted you out of your trance. Kylian looked at you, his eyes soft. "We're here," he said. "Is this your house?"

You nodded, not wanting to get out.

Kylian got out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. He took your hand, helping you out, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You didn't want him to let go. "Thank you for everything," you said softly, shyly glancing up at him.

He smiled, his lips curving up and his eyes twinkling. "Anytime Y/N."

And with that, you turned around and made your way to the house.

****

Kylian watched as you disappeared behind the front door. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts consumed by you. He missed you already.

He had never felt this way about someone before. The way you made him feel was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt a strange pull towards you, a feeling he couldn’t explain. All he knew was he wanted to spend more time with you. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to hold you.

Kylian made his way back into his car, starting the engine and pulling away from your house. His mind was whirling with thoughts of you.

Just as he pulled into his driveway he remembered something. He never got your number.

****

It was weeks before you would see him again.

This time at the bookstore you worked at. He walked in with a teenager by his side. And judging by the uncanny resemblance between the two, you could tell they were brothers.

You felt your stomach drop at the sight of him. Before he could notice you, you quickly fixed the scarf around your neck where your father's handprint lay fresh and prayed to God your concealer was thick enough to mask the bruise on your face.

You busied yourself behind the counter, stealing glances when you could. They were in the school supplies section, browsing. His brother was animatedly discussing something with him, his gestures mirroring Kylian's in a way that was both heartwarming and bittersweet for you.

You smoothed your scarf nervously, a habit that now concealed more than just your attire, hiding the marks you hoped no one would notice.

As they approached the checkout, Kylian looked up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

Your throat felt dry and your knees grew weak. The stare he was giving you was an intense one. One that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You stayed like that for a while. Just staring at each other. His brother stood beside him oblivious to the unspoken exchange, chattering on excitedly.

Then he smiled. It was a gentle smile, one that made you feel warm. He began to walk towards you leaving his brother behind to do more browsing and approached the counter. Your heart pounded in your chest and your mouth felt dry.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft. His eyes searched yours, looking for something. But you didn't know what.

"Hi," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He leaned forward on the counter, his body angling towards you in a way that felt like a secret. You felt his scent surround you. It was spicy and musky. Your chest fluttered in response.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he said, his voice filled with a longing. Your heart skipped a beat. The tone of his voice, the way he was looking at you. It was almost overwhelming. Never had someone regarded you with such care, such intent.

You felt like a flower being basked in the warm sunlight for the first time.

You managed a small smile. "Yeah, me too," you said, your voice small.

He smiled back. Your stomach clenched. You love his smile. Love the way it made you feel safe, wanted.

He looked like he was about to say something when his brother interrupted him, holding a stack of supplies. "Kylian, come pay for this," his brother said. Kylian nodded, reaching for his wallet.

As he began to unload the stuff from his brother's arms onto the counter, his gaze locked with yours again. He didn't speak but instead held your eyes with an intensity you couldn't understand.

You managed to break the contact by looking down and started to ring up the items.

When you were done and Kylian had paid, his brother thanked you. His smile was sweet and genuine. Kylian looked at you, his eyes searching yours.

You felt like he was trying to say something, but he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out and took one of your hands in his. His palm was warm. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the contact.

"Can I have your number?" he asked, his voice filled with hope. You felt a warmth spread in your chest at his words.

You froze at his words. No one had ever asked you for your number before. At least, no boy.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. The idea of giving out your number both excited and terrified you. Did you really want to be his friend? As your stepmother always said you tend to bring more harm than good into people's life.

And Kylian was such a good person.

Could you really burden him like that? Suffocate him with your baggage. You weren't meant to be loved. Clearly. After all even your own father didn't want you. Why would he?

You knew that once he got to know the truth about you he would run for the hills. You didn't want to get attached to him only for him to leave you. Heck, you could already feel yourself tearing up at the thought.

But then, looking into Kylian's earnest eyes, you saw something different. Something you both desperately craved. The need to be loved. To be seen.

Slowly, you nodded, your heart racing. "Okay," you managed to say, your voice barely audible but filled with a newfound resolve.

Relief washed over Kylian's face, followed by a soft smile that lit up his features. He's so beautiful, you thought. He handed you his phone, the screen already lit up with the phone app open. With trembling fingers, you entered your number, feeling nerves twisting in your guts.

"Thank you," he said sincerely as he took back his phone, typing a quick message to ensure your number was saved. Your phone pinged beside you, the screen lighting up with the message 'Hi.' from an unknown number. You couldn't help but smile.

Unbeknownst to you, Kylian saw it. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever met. And he's met a lot of women. It was no secret to the world that Kylian Mbappé was a heartthrob, sought after by many.

But in that quiet moment at the bookstore counter, he gave himself to you. Mind, soul, and hopefully if all goes according to his plan, body.

He was yours.

He emptied out the space in his heart and placed you there, a refuge from the stormy world you knew too well. It scared him what he was ready to do for you. After all, he didn't even know you.

And yet, in that instant, everything felt right. His instincts, usually so finely tuned on the field, told him that you were worth the risk.

As he glanced at his brother, who was waiting impatiently by the door, Kylian knew he had to go, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.

"I have to run," he said reluctantly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I really want to talk to you more. Can we meet sometime?"

His question once again made you hesitate. But looking into his soft brown eyes made you melt. So you decided right then that you would enjoy his company for as long as he wanted you and would mourn his loss when he would eventually leave.

You nodded, unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. "Sure," you managed to say, feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness.

"Great," he replied, his smile widening. "I'll text you."

With that, he squeezed your hand gently before turning to leave with his brother, who was now calling him urgently. You watched them walk away, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you—hope, disbelief, and a hint of fear.

As the door closed behind them, you leaned back against the counter, replaying the brief encounter in your mind. Could this be real? Was this some sick prank your stepsister was playing on you?

The last thought wasn't far-fetched considering all the other horrible things she had done to you. But for once you hope with all your might that it wasn't.

You glanced at your phone, seeing his message still displayed. The word "Hi." seemed to hold so much promise.

For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you could be happy.

****

The weeks that followed were amazing.

Every time your phone buzzed with a message from Kylian, your heart skipped a beat. He was surprisingly persistent, often texting just to check in, share something funny, or ask about your day. Each conversation felt like a lifeline, a small escape from the turmoil of your daily life.

It felt good to have someone care.

You met Kylian a few more times after that encounter at the bookstore.

He would invite you to charming little places tucked away in the quieter parts of the city, where the two of you could talk for hours without interruption. Where you could forget the bad shit in your life and simply enjoy his company.

Kylian was easy to talk to, his presence soothing and his laughter infectious. He listened with genuine interest when you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours as if you were the girl person in the world. The only thing that mattered.

He introduced you to a side of life you had never known—A life you had only ever dreamed about. A complete contrast to the coldness you were used to. A glimpse of what could be if you dared to dream.

But as much as light Kylian brought into your life, doubts gnawed at you.

How long until he left you? How long until he saw the bruises you couldn’t hide? The pain you couldn't mask?

You feared the day he would look at you with pity or, worse, regret. Each time he texted or called, a small part of you braced for disappointment.

But that day never came.

Instead, he surprised you. Time and time again. Like right now.

You stood outside the bookstore, your breath fogging up in the cool evening air. Kylian had texted you earlier, asking if you could meet him after your shift.

His messages were usually funny and easygoing, but this one had a sort of seriousness that made you nervous.

As you waited, you replayed last night. He had Facetimed you late into the night, just to chat about nothing and everything. Like you usually did, but something was different that time. He was flirting with you.

At first, you thought it was just your imagination. How could Kylian Mbappé possibly have a crush on you? But as the night wore on and the playful glint in his eyes and compliments got more and more obvious, you couldn't deny it anymore.

Not with the way he looked at you through the screen. The way his voice softened when he said your name—it all pointed to one undeniable truth.

One you were too afraid to face.

"Hey," a familiar voice called out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You turned to see Kylian's head peeking out of his G-Wagon, waving at you. His smile was as bright as ever, making your heart race.

"Hey," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. You walked over quickly, excited.

As you approached the car, he opened the passenger door for you, always the gentleman. "Hop in," he said, his tone cheerful but with an undertone of something more serious.

You settled into the seat, the warmth of the car contrasting to the chilly evening outside. Kylian glanced at you, his eyes lingering on your face a moment longer than usual. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softening.

You nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit tired from work."

He seemed to accept your answer, though his eyes still held a hint of concern. "I thought we could hang out at my place," he said, starting the car.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Sure," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flurry of emotions within you. You had never been to his place. The idea of spending time at his place felt both thrilling and intimidating.

The drive was filled with easy conversation, Kylian telling you about his day at training and a funny story about Hakimi and Ousmane. You laughed at his stories, feeling more at ease with each passing minute.

It wasn't long before you arrived at his apartment, marveling at the modern building towering above you. Kylian led you inside, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, a touch that made your skin tingle.

His place was spacious and elegant, filled with personal touches that made it feel warm and inviting. You noticed photographs of his family, friends, and teammates scattered around, giving you an intimate glimpse into his life.

"Make yourself at home," he said, smiling as he gestured to the living room. "Want something to drink? Water, juice, maybe some tea?"

"Tea please," you replied, settling onto the large plush couch. You watched as he moved to the kitchen, his movements fluid and graceful. It was hard to believe that he was real sometimes. You felt lucky that you got to know him like this. See him like this.

When he returned with two steaming mugs, you accepted yours gratefully, wrapping your hands around it for warmth. He sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body.

"So," he began, his tone casual but his eyes serious. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

Oh, no.

Your heart skipped a beat, anxiety creeping in. Was this it? Was this him leaving you? Telling you he didn't want to be friends with you anymore?

But instead of delivering bad news, Kylian's expression softened, his gaze gentle yet determined. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you," he said sincerely, his voice quiet in the cozy ambiance of his living room. "And I want to be honest with you."

You held your breath, unsure of where his words would lead.

"I like you," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "More than just as a friend."

Your heart pounded in your chest, disbelief evident on your face. What?

"I've been thinking a lot about us," he confessed, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "About you. And every time I do, I realize how much I care about you. Want to be with you." He reached out, gently holding your hands in his large ones.

Your mind reeled, trying to process his words. Did he really mean what he was saying? Or was this all some cruel joke?

You glanced at him, your eyes meeting his, searching for any hint of it being a lie. But all you saw was sincerity. The same sincerity you had come to know from him.

He truly believed what he was saying. But how?

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your chest fluttered at the thought of him liking you romantically.

"I mean I want to be with you," he said simply, his eyes holding yours. "As your boyfriend if that's something you want too."

Your heart pounded harder at his words, and you felt a rush of emotions flood through you—surprise, joy, and a lingering trace of fear. The idea of someone like Kylian wanting to be with you romantically seemed almost too good to be true.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to steady it. You looked down at your hands, unsure of how to process your feelings.

Kylian squeezed your hands gently, his touch reassuring. "You don't have to say anything right now," he said softly. "Take your time. I just wanted you to know how I feel."

His words were comforting, his presence grounding. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze once more. "I... I like you too," you confessed, "But... I don't know if you should." Your voice was shaky as you whispered the words.

Kylian's brows furrowed at your words.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. His concern was evident in his eyes, but there was also a determination that showed he would be easily dissuaded.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking. "Because... because I'm not... I'm not who you think I am," you admitted quietly, feeling vulnerable. "There are things about me... things I haven't told you."

Kylian listened attentively, his expression softening as he waited for you to continue. "I have a lot of baggage," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "And... and sometimes things happen that... that I can't control." You glanced down, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't want to burden you with my problems."

He was silent for a moment, processing your words. When he spoke again, his voice was steady, soft, loving. "You're not a burden," he said firmly, lifting your chin gently so you had to meet his gaze. The intensity in them made your heart beat faster. "Whatever you've been through, whatever you're facing... you don't have to face it alone." His eyes searched yours. "I care about you," he continued softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "And I want to be there for you, in whatever way you'll let me."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "But... what if... what if you find out things about me and you..." Your voice broke, the fear of rejection clawing at your heart. You couldn't lose him. Not with how well he treats you. How he makes you feel. You need him.

Kylian's expression softened even more, his eyes desperately trying to convey the deep affection he felt for you. "I'm not going anywhere," he said gently, his words filled with conviction. "I want to know all of you, Y/N. The good, the bad, everything." He paused, giving you a moment to absorb his words. "If you'll let me."

You searched his eyes, finding only sincerity. You were so used to people lying to you that you had become a master at sniffing it out. But his eyes held no lie. Only truth. A truth that made your heart explode.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be real. A chance at happiness you never thought possible.

"I... I want to try," you said finally, your voice wavering. You cleared your throat and repeated, "I want to be with you."

A smile spread across Kylian's face at your words. Yes, he thought doing a little victory dance in his head. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands still gently holding yours. "Thank you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you for giving us a chance."

The stare between the two of you grew heavy, a longing for something more.

As if sensing your thoughts, Kylian's eyes dropped to your lips, his gaze lingering there a moment before moving back to meet your eyes. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the thought of his lips on yours. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible but dripping with need.

Without hesitation, Kylian leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was a slow, tender kiss that sent shivers down your spine and made your heart flutter in your chest. Your first kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in him, your hearts beating in tandem.

When the kiss ended, it left you breathless, Kylian smiling against your lips. "You're mine now," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. "And I'm never letting you go."

****

The warm air from the heater greeted you as you walked further into your house. You were just coming back from the library after completing a group project that was due next week.

It had gone well, despite the stress the people you were working with brought you.

Your mind wandered briefly to Kylian, as it often did now whenever you found a moment of peace. You guys were official now. And every moment has been nothing but pure bliss.

You finally felt like you were starting to understand what happiness was.

You closed the door behind you sighing with relief, grateful for the warmth after enduring the cold at the bus stop. You missed the first bus and had to wait for the second one in the freezing cold. All you wanted now was to get into bed and text Kylian until you feel asleep.

You were taking off your shoes when you felt it. A hand yanking the back of your hair, pulling your head backward. You tried to scream but a slap silenced you.

"Thought you were smart, didn't you?" your stepmother spat, her voice filled with malice. "Thought you could fool us? You whore!" She let go of your hair, giving you a hard shove. You stumbled backward, landing on your hands and knees.

"So this is why you've been coming back home with that stupid smile on your face every day. You're fucking Kylian Mbappé," she hissed, her eyes blazing with anger.

Your heart sank.

How did she know? Had your stepsister told her? How did they find out?

You had to get out of there or they would...

You scrambled to your feet, ready to run, but a kick in your stomach sent you falling back down. Your stepmother loomed over you, her eyes wild with rage. "You fucking slut!" She kicked you hard in the ribs. "You little whore!" She kicked you again, making you double over in pain. "You will regret ever looking at him," she threatened as she continued to beat you. You were powerless against her kicks and slaps.

She stopped finally, panting. "Get up," she snarled, her voice filled with hate. "Now!"

You struggled to get up, your body screaming in pain. Your stepsister was watching you with hatred in her eyes. She was holding your phone. The same phone that had the lock screen image of you and Kylian from a recent outing. His arm was around your shoulders, both of you laughing at something silly he had said.

The picture had been taken by a fan who had asked to take a photo with Kylian. But she had noticed him put his arm around you, and instead of asking for a selfie, she had snapped a photo of the two of you instead.

It was your favorite picture, something you looked at whenever you needed to be reminded that all of this was real. That you weren't dreaming. That someone like Kylian truly cared for you.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you watched your stepsister throw your phone on the floor, her heel stomping on it.

The screen shattered under her heel.

You wanted to cry, but you were too scared. You had seen the anger in your stepmother's eyes. You knew you would be dead if you cried.

"You'll pay for this," your stepsister sneered, glaring at you with all the hate in the world.

You yelped as your stepmother grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. "You'll learn your place," she snarled, her breath hot against your ear. "And we'll teach you."

A whimper escaped you as she dragged you toward the basement, your stepsister following close behind.

You knew what was coming.

Your heart raced with fear as they dragged you towards the basement, the familiar dread tightening your chest. Each step hurt you as they dragged you down them. They would leave bruises that would last weeks. You know this from experience.

Your mind raced looking for a way out, but finding none. There never was. But for some reason, you held out hope.

The basement door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room that smelled of dampness and decay. This was where they often took their anger out on you, where their punishments lurked in the shadows, waiting to be inflicted.

You trembled as they shoved you forward, the concrete floor cold against your hands and knees.

"Please," you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. But your stepmother's grip on your hair tightened, silencing any further plea. The air thickened as they circled around you. Like vultures. Predators.

And you were the prey.

"You think you're better than us," your stepsister spat, her face contorted with venom. "Fucking him just because he's famous. Pathetic. He doesn't want you anyway, look at you."

You bit back tears, fighting the urge to scream, knowing it would only provoke them further. Her words stung more than the cuts on your body. And your mind started to believe her.

Maybe she was right.

Pain seared through you as another blow landed. In the haze of torment, you closed your eyes, desperately clinging to the memory of Kylian's warmth, his gentle words.

His face, his smile, the way he defended you against the world. You would miss him.

You knew this was the end. You could feel it.

Your body was numb and you were dipping in and out of consciousness, the pain and fear overwhelming. As darkness threatened to consume you, memories of Kylian flooded your mind.

You recalled the first time you met him, how his genuine kindness had shattered the walls around your heart. The quiet moments stolen between you, where he'd hold your hand and promise you a future where no one could hurt you. Leaving sweet kisses on your lips.

You'll miss his eyes the most, you think. Those deep, comforting eyes that always saw through your pain and whispered hope into your soul. Even now, battered and broken, he's all you can think of.

As darkness closed in, you clung to the image of him, willing yourself to survive for him, for the promise of a better tomorrow he represented.

Despite the agony, a faint smile flickered on your lips as you drifted into unconsciousness, imagining his arms around you, shielding you from the cruelty of the world.

****

Kylian was a man of instinct.

It's why he dominated on the field and off. His senses were sharp, attuned to the slightest shifts in energy around him. Never missing the slightest detail.

That's why, when he hadn't heard from you all evening, a knot of unease twisted in his gut.

You had always texted him after getting home, no matter how late. It was a routine for you. And you were a very routine-oriented person, so he knew you didn't forget.

As the hours ticked by without a word from you, Kylian's concern grew into a gnawing worry.

He replayed the events of the day in his mind, recalling your smile as you parted ways after he'd dropped you off at the library. The memory brought a bittersweet smile to his lips, but it did little to ease his growing anxiety.

He had offered to pick you but you had declined. You could tell he was tired from training and you didn't know when you would be done. So you told him you would take the bus instead and promised to call him.

He tried calling you, but each attempt went straight to voicemail. Panic began to creep into his chest, tightening with each unanswered ring. He paced his living room, his mind racing through possibilities, none of them pleasant.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, Kylian made a decision. Grabbing his car keys, he headed out into the freezing night, his thoughts consumed with finding you, needing to ensure you were safe.

The drive to your house felt agonizingly long. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, urging the car to move faster. When he finally pulled up outside your home, a chilling sense of dread settled over him. Something wasn't right. At all.

He approached the front door cautiously, his heart hammering in his chest. The warm glow of light spilled out from the windows, contrasting sharply with the darkness that seemed to loom over the house. Kylian hesitated for only a moment before reaching out to knock.

No response.

His knocks grew louder, more insistent, but still, no one answered. Frustration and fear surged within him as he contemplated his next move. With a surge of determination, he tried the doorknob, praying it would yield. To his relief and horror, it did.

As he stepped inside, the silence of the house enveloped him like a suffocating blanket. "Y/N? Mrs. Y/L/N?" he called out, his voice echoing through the hallway. No reply came.

The uneasiness deepened with each step he took further into the house. Every room he checked yielded no sign of you or anyone else. That is, until he reached the basement door.

A chill ran down his spine as he slowly opened the creaking door, revealing a scene that shattered his heart and ignited a rage unlike any he had ever felt. There you were, battered and bruised, huddled on the cold concrete floor.

Unconscious.

Kylian's world froze as he took in the sight before him. His heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of you, vulnerable and broken on the basement floor. Rage surged through him, raw and primal, as he knelt beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your bruised face.

"Y/N, baby" he whispered, his voice choked with anguish and disbelief. "What have they done to you?"

His hands trembled as he carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. The bruises on your skin, the cuts that marred your once vibrant spirit, filled him with a fury he could barely contain. Tears blurred his vision as he held you close, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance, though he knew you couldn't hear him in your unconscious state.

He doesn't remember when or how he called the ambulance, but he did.

All he could focus on was you, your safety, your well-being. The minutes waiting for help felt like an eternity, his heart pounding with fear.

When the paramedics arrived, Kylian reluctantly let them take you, his hands lingering on yours as they wheeled you away. He couldn't bear to leave your side, but he knew he had to. He had justice to seek for what had been done to you.

He would make sure they rot. They would burn for what they did to you.

Hours passed in a blur of interviews, statements, and waiting. Kylian refused to rest, his mind consumed with thoughts of you, praying silently for your recovery. He felt powerless, haunted by the image of your broken form in that basement, unable to protect you when you needed him most.

Finally, a doctor approached him with news. You were stable, physically battered but stable. Your ribs were broken and there were numerous bruises and cuts. Burns covered your arms but the doctor said they were old.

The burns he had seeen the first time he met you.

With each word that exited the doctor's he felt himself get weaker and weaker.

Just what have you been going through? And how had he not seen it? He felt like a horrible boyfriend. He had promised to protect but he failed. He failed you.

Kylian stayed by your side as much as the hospital allowed, holding your hand, talking to you, silently willing you to wake up and tell him that you would be okay.

He had called his mother the first night he stayed at the hospital. He knew he would have to leave you to answer police questions and the only person he trusted you to was her.

She was beside him the second he called. She knew something was wrong. He couldn't hide it anymore.

He had broken down in his mother's arms. Telling her everything.

She listened and didn't interrupt him once. She hugged him tighter, kissed his cheek, and whispered 'I'm proud of you' over and over. Then she sat next to him, waiting for you to wake up.

****

The first thing you felt when you woke up was his hand in yours. You blinked, disoriented, trying to recall what happened, but your mind was hazy and clouded. One of your eyes was swollen shut, making it hard to see clearly.

Pain radiated through your body, each breath sending sharp stabs through your chest. You groaned softly, the sound catching Kylian's attention instantly.

"Y/N," he whispered, there was a tremble to his words. "You're awake."

You turned your head towards him, your good eye focusing on his tear-streaked face. His fingers tightened around yours, as if afraid you might slip away again.

"Kylian..." Your voice was weak, barely more than a rasp, but the relief in his eyes was palpable.

"Shh, don't try to talk," he murmured, gently brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. "You're safe now. You're in the hospital. Everything's going to be okay."

You tried to nod, but the effort was too much. Instead, you squeezed his hand lightly, a silent acknowledgment of his words. Kylian's gaze never left your face, his eyes filled with love. Anguish.

The weight of your suffering was etched deeply into his features. He wished he could take your pain away. Switch places with you. Shield you. Protect you from all this. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should have been there. I should have known."

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him it wasn't his fault, but the pain and exhaustion were too overwhelming. Instead, you gave his hand another gentle squeeze, hoping he understood.

Kylian leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer his strength to you. The quiet hum of the hospital room, the distant beeping of machines, and the rhythmic pulse of your heartbeat were the only sounds, grounding him in this moment.

His mother, who had been silently watching from the corner of the room, approached with a soft smile. "She's awake, Kylian. That's a good sign," she whispered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Kylian nodded, though the tightness in his chest didn't ease. He was grateful for his mother's presence. Her calm strength a lifeline in this sea of chaos. She had always been his rock, and now she would be yours. Extending that strength to you.

She turned to you and softly introduced herself, "Hi, Y/N. I'm Fayza, Kylian's mother. You're safe now, darling. We will take care of you. You just make sure you get as much rest as possible."

You managed a faint smile, your eyes tearing up at the warmth and kindness in her eyes. For the first time in your life, you felt the love of a mother.

Her words washed over you like water, drowning you in the security that only a maternal figure can make you feel. The tears that you desperately tried to hold in spilled over, tracing silent paths down your cheeks.

Fayza reached out, gently wiping them away with her palm and you found yourself leaning into her touch. But she didn't seem to mind. The room, despite its clinical sterility, seemed a little less cold with her there.

The days that followed were a blur of medical treatments and police interviews. Kylian stayed by your side.

He was there every moment he could be. Fayza took turns with him, ensuring you were never alone. Bring you food that she made and making sure you have everything you need. Especially love.

The police investigation moved forward, and Kylian was relentless in his pursuit of justice for you. He spent hours with the authorities, providing every detail he could remember, every scrap of evidence he could find. His determination was fueled by the image of you in that basement, a memory that haunted him and drove him forward.

Throughout your recovery, Kylian's teammates and friends offered their support. You were scared to meet them at first, afraid they would hate you for dragging their friend into your mess.

But they loved you. Becoming super overprotective and treating you like a little sister. They visited the hospital often, bringing flowers, cards, food. Anything you wanted.

Physical therapy was the hardest.

Your body was broken, to say the least. Fractured collar bone, multiple broken ribs, a bruised lung, and a concussion that seemed to cloud your thinking.

Everyday was a battle a war within yourself.

Kylian was your constant companion through it all, encouraging you during the grueling sessions, holding your hand when the pain became unbearable.

It was weird at first having someone care for you like that.

But Kylian made it easy.

He learned your routine, anticipated your needs, and cheered your small victories as if they were monumental achievements. His love and patience never wavered, even on your toughest days. He was your anchor.

The worst of it was when he saw your scars for the first time helping you get ready for a bath.

He had been so careful, so gentle, as he helped you undress, but the moment his eyes fell on them, his breath caught in his throat. The sight of them, a cruel testament to the pain you had endured, tore at his heart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling suddenly exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. Ugly. He was the first guy to see you like this and you hated how this bruised body was all you had to offer. But he didn't mind.

In fact that was the moment he realized he loved you.

His fingers traced the lines of your scars, as if to erase them. To erase the horrible past that caused them. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Every part of you."

You blinked back tears, overwhelmed by his words. "I don't feel strong," you admitted softly, your voice trembling.

Kylian cupped your face gently in his hands, his eyes locked on yours. "You survived," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That's strength, Y/N. You're here, fighting every day. That's what matters. And if you can't be strong, let me be your strength. Let me protect you. Let me love you."

You froze at his last sentence.

He had never said those words to you and neither have you to him. Your heart leaped in your chest at the raw honesty of which he said.

This time you didn't hesitate, didn't ponder.

You'd know for a while now that you loved him. How could you not? When he was the man that you prayed for. Your rock, your refuge, your protector, your lover. You loved every inch of this man and Finally. Finally you could tell him.

"I love you too, Kylian Mbappé."

He held you close that night, placing kisses on your shoulder as he held you from behind whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

****

Two years later...

You stood in front of the window, watching the tranquil view. The girl who reflected in the glass looked nothing like the girl from years ago. Your smile was radiant, your eyes sparkling with a happiness that only true love could bring.

Kylian had proposed to you six months ago, after the trial was over. Your family had been found guilty. Turns out your stepmother and sister were on the run. They thought they killed you that night so they fled, along with your father.

The thought of them being okay with just leaving your corpse to rot in the basement made your stomach turn every time you thought about it.

You shook the thoughts away. you weren't about to let them ruin your day. not anymore.

Your wedding was small. A private ceremony with close friends and family. You had chosen a beautiful vineyard as the setting, overlooking rolling hills and sun-kissed grapevines. The familiar scent of roses and freshly cut grass filled the air, mingling with the laughter of your guests.

The afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows that danced along the paths between rows of vines.

Kylian stood at the end of the aisle, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that still made your heart skip a beat. He wore a classic black tuxedo that accentuated his tall, athletic frame. Looking absolutely amazing.

You really married him.

Ethan walked you down the aisle. The two of you had gotten really close after Kylian had officially introduced you. He considered you family, a big sister. Someone he could come to for advice, which he often did. He was super protective sometimes rivaling Kylian.

Which was saying something.

Ever since Kylian found you in that basement, battered and bruised, he felt this urge to always be by your side. This urgent need. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved you. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

You were his whole world. The love of his life. His last love. The reason his heart beats.

As Ethan placed your hand in Kylian's, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everyone in a warm, golden light. Kylian looked like he was glowing. You will never forget that view for as long as you live.

Now that you were closer, you realized he was crying. You smiled at your groom, feeling the weight of your love for him in your chest.

Kylian's eyes locked on yours, love pouring out of them. You knew he would love you for all eternity. And you loved him the same. You were home.

"I love you," you whispered softly, looking into his eyes.

Kylian's lips curved into a sweet smile, his voice filled with emotion. "Je t'aime, mon âme."

The officiant pronounced you husband and wife, and Kylian swept you into a passionate kiss, the cheers of your guests fading into the background. In his arms, you felt whole, complete.

And you both knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together. You had found each other in this chaotic world, and nothing else mattered.

The feel of arms wrapping around your waist pull you out of your daydream as soft kisses are placed on your shoulder. You lean back into Kylian's embrace, smiling as his lips travel up your neck.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" he asks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn around, meeting his eyes.

"Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you," you reply honestly. "About how much you've changed my life."

Kylian's arms tighten around you. "You're the one that's changed my life, Y/N. You're my reason for living." He tilts your chin up, capturing your gaze. "And I promise you, mon amour, that I'll love you until the day I die. That I'll make you happy for all eternity. Je t'aime." He seals his promise with a burning kiss.

The type that leaves your skin burning and heat pooling between your thighs.

His arms around you grow tighter as his kiss grows deeper. Soon he's walking you backwards to the bed. You fall on your back with a laugh but it's silenced by another kiss.

He starts to take off his shirt. You can barely think straight at the sight of his abs. Even after two years of having him to yourself you still get weak in the knees. Your panties already damp from that kiss.

His lips start traveling south as he pulls up the shirt you're wearing(his), exposing your body to him. The softness of the bed comforts your back as his heavy form press more into you. You gasp into his wet mouth, feeling his covered hardness press against your thigh.

His hands push up your shirt and massage the softness of your tummy on his way up to your covered breast. He backs from your lips to look at your fluttering eyes. “Can I?” his voice deep with lust and adoration for you, no matter how many times the two of you do this, he’s never lost the habit of asking.

“Always,” you whisper against his swollen lips, pulling him back into your lips. He lifts your shirt over your head and unclasps your bra, rubbing his thumbs over your harding buds. You moan from the contact into his mouth, a soft groan from his throat in response.

“Kylian,” your voice goes up an octave from the fire of his touches.

“Trésor,” he responds, kissing down your chin to your neck, placing soft kisses into your supple skin. “Je t'aime.”

His fingers slip down to the hem of your panties, pulling them off in one quick motion. He kisses down your belly, placing light kisses all the way down to your inner thigh. You whine, spreading your thighs in invitation.

“Patience, my love,” he chuckles, his breath fanning over your covered heated core. “I want to make you come on my tongue.”

Your eyes flutter close at his words.

He tugs your jeans and underwear off, discarding them somewhere in the spacious hotel room.

His grip is tight on your thighs as he gets down so he's at eye level with your cunt. He groans at the sight, wet and inviting.

A treat.

He places a soft kiss on the folds before taking in as much of you as he can into his mouth. He's good, really good. Your body arches and twitches with every moan ripped from your throat.

He's messy too, with loud slurping and quick inhales mixed with groaning coming from between your legs. You get louder as a coil begins to tighten in your gut, feeling his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it feverishly.

"You taste so fucking good baby. Mhm, love this pussy. Love you." He whispers against your folds. The vibrations send sparks flying throughout your whole body. You can feel yourself getting closer.

A white heat floods your senses as the coil snaps, reaching your toes as you spasm. Kylian drinks up every drop, getting drunk on your taste, chuckling as you push against his head to get him away.

He sits up, chin glistening with your arousal eyes locked on yours, and wipes the excess off with the back of his hand, smirking down at you with lust-blown eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty like this, mon coeur,” He leans down and kisses your neck, nibbling on your skin, making you gasp and whimper.

“Kylian,” you whimper as he presses your leg against your chest. His smile flatters once again, the indents of his nails on your skin now noticeable. He hovers over you, his body covering yours, your small frame drowning in him.

His hand trails down and your eyes follow. He wasn’t small by any means of the word, very much the opposite. Girthy, long, and beautiful. You love every inch of him.

You place your hand against his jaw, bringing his attention to your face. Flushed, teary-eyed, lips puffy and bruised. “Please, I need you,” you whisper, voice already showing signs of another orgasm. Just the thought of him inside you was enough.

He leans down and kisses your nose, pressing his forehead against yours. And with a nod, his weeping tip pushes past your folds and is embraced by soft, clingy gummy walls.

He groans at the feeling, kissing away the tears of pure pleasure that break from your lashes at the intrusion. “You're so tight. Feels so good. Putain,” he whispers into your ear, holding you close as he pushes in. His towering form shadows the lights from your eyes, the difference in size making your head dizzy.

He lets out a startled moan as his hips slam into yours, listening to your guttural moans. “Merde, breathe, breathe baby,” he coos, massaging the tensed muscles of your stomach and hips.

You’re not a virgin by any means but with him, it always feels like the first time. It could have been his size, it could have been that he was the only man to have you. Or maybe, it was because this connection meant more than sex.

You're enveloped in his love. This is otherworldly. Nothing could ever make you feel like this. Feel this good. Nothing. No one.

You giggle and that giggle turns into a laugh, Kylian staring confused, eyebrow-raising.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh but I’m just so in love with you,” You smile, rubbing his arms and pulling him closer. And you mean that with every fiber of your being. You never thought you'd be here. In the arms of the man you love. The man who loves you. It's bliss.

“I love you,” you say again to his shocked face, nothing but the truth in your eyes. You wiggle your leg out from under him and wrap them around his waist, heels tapping his toned ass. Kylian shivers before engulfing you in his embrace, tucking his face into your hair.

“Say it again,” he whispers, rocking his hips into you.

“I love you,” you groan, bliss shooting up your spine. His pace was slow, deep.

“Again,” he hisses, you said it again and again and again, with each time his thrust increases. His breathing is shallow and the wet sounds of your bodies echo through the room. Your poor neighbors. “I love you,” he chokes out through his pants and moans.

The heat of his body invades yours and you feel like you're melting into each other. Sweat from his chest drips onto your lashes and you blink it out, moans bouncing off the walls as his pace quickens, more forceful, slamming into that spot deep inside of you.

“Ohmygod,” you squeal, “Kylian–I-” he slams his lips into yours swallowing all of your sounds. His voice pitches up as his moans increase, breathing heavily onto your face.

His pretty face scrunches up as a loud grunt rips from his mouth, the warmth being dumped inside of you sending you over, clamping down on him harder, gaining a wince from him.

He places his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he stares into your eyes before collapsing onto you, spent and satisfied. His weight comforting, grounding.

You lay there for a while, you rubbing his back as he places kisses on your neck and whispers praises in your ear.

And to think that you would have this forever, have him forever. The thought brings a smile to your lips and you kiss his shoulder.

This man was your everything. your love, your protector, your soulmate. you were his world, his heart beating only for you. He healed you with his love.

Your Kylian.

-Bianca🌻

[back2bluesidex]

Oh So Reluctant - PJM (18+)

Pairing: Husband!Jimin X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, Arrange marriage au.

Summary: For the past eleven months that you have been married to Park Jimin, he has not looked at you the way he has been doing today. And there is sinister in his eyes.

Word count: 1819

Warnings: Angst, unhappy married life, Jimin is cold, reader is lonely, mentions of alcohol consumption, sexual tension but no smut for this part (yes there is a second part, it's a twoshot), brief Taehyung X Reader.

Minors are NOT welcomed in this blog!!

A/N: This story was requested by lovely @chimmy-licious.

As mentioned before, this is a twoshot, so there will be a second part, I just don't know when haha!

Part 2

****************

You check yourself out in the elevator mirror. 

You look perfect tonight. Just as you always wanted to look for an event so important to you. Saving a month-worth of your paycheque, you customized this cherry red dress for yourself. The wrap pattern of the dress gives an alluring view of your collarbone and cleavage while the dangerous slit ends in the middle of your right thigh. You decided to let your hair loose and matched your lip shade with your dress.

You look sexy, you look hot, you look beautiful and you look lonely. 

You know what’s waiting for you ahead. The worst part is not people bombarding you with questions about your husband’s absence, it is how pathetic you are gonna look while you accept the best employee award and there will be no one of your own to clap for you. The worst part is also how you are going to hopelessly stare at your colleagues as they dance with their partners tonight. 

You braced yourself up for all of it in advance but somehow tonight you feel less confident than you thought you would. Not having someone to share your special night with, is certainly painful but having someone and not mattering enough to them, hits on a different level. You are a victim of the latter situation. 

Your husband, Park Jimin, is always busy. Well, you can’t really expect anything else from the CEO of one of the leading entertainment companies of South Korea, making him the youngest person ever to gain that position. The responsibilities he has makes him even busier and you understand it all. You understand, that is why he is so reluctant towards your presence in his life. Even though you are his wife, it is still an arranged marriage, held against Jimin’s consent. 

When you met him once before your marriage he clearly told you not to expect anything from him as he is marrying you only for his mother’s wish. There was no malice in his voice, it was just cold. And he has been cold to you ever since. Not that he has any business being any warm to you. 

He didn’t marry you for any business-related convenience. He married you because his mother thought her golden son will end up marrying some girl from the industry and she read news on famous people getting divorced almost every other day. She met your mother at the church, they became friends and worked their ways on being relatives. 

You, a perfectly contained human being with a stressful but nice job, had to cave in to your mother’s wishes because she was worried that her overly-independent daughter may just end up alone, which certainly wasn’t your plan. 

You always wanted to settle down in your career first and then look for a partner, make a home and then kids etc etc. so, when your mother approached you about Jimin, you saw no reason to revolt. But you were disappointed when Jimin told you he wasn’t ready for this marriage and it’s only his mother's wish not his. 

You tried to talk to your mother about it but it all went in vain. 

Both of the ladies were too adamant to get you two married, they threatened to go for a hunger strike otherwise. 

And now you are here. After exactly eleven months and two days of your marriage, you are unhappy and you feel alone more than ever. Jimin never pays you much attention. For the first couple of months you tried to be friends. You cooked dinner, planned dates, gave him gifts but never received anything more than a “thanks” with a tightlipped smile in return. Rather he appeared to be quite uncomfortable about it all, so you stopped trying and stayed away. 

A week ago, you handed him the invitation card of your company’s annual day celebration. You told him it would be nice if he attends, since you are going to be awarded as the employee of the year. He only nodded and said, “I have a press conference that day. I don’t think I can make it. But…” a pause, “congratulations anyway.” 

Your heart broke, tears threatened to spill but you gave him a smile.

For the first time in your married life, you realized that you like your husband and not having him beside you on your special day not only made you feel lonely but also destroyed you. But then again, you can’t make someone love you if they don’t. 

The elevator dinged, signaling you have reached your floor and you prepare yourself for faking excuses and smiles. 

***************

You take a sip of your red wine as you stare at the trophy, which has made itself quite comfortable on the bar-top. 

You should have been on cloud-nine by now, you should have been drowning yourself in drinks, getting wasted and being happy but you are doing none of it. You are definitely happy but not as much as you should be, not as much as you thought you would be. 

You take another sip and that is when someone places a hand on your shoulder,

“Congratulations, milady” says a voice right beside your right ear. It’s Taehyung.  

“Hey. Thanks.” you whisper, without even caring if your voice is audible to him or not. 

“Oh? What is it? Why do you look so down when you should be twerking in the middle of the dance floor?” Tae pouts. His remark makes you laugh. 

“I am happy, Tae. Just a little tired.” you reply wearily. 

“I don’t think so, draling. What is it? Is it your husband?” Tae asks, scooting closer. 

You don’t say anything, choosing to stay silent. 

“That’s why you should have accepted me when I asked you out for like five times in two years.” Taehyung warps a hand around your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. You let yourself relax in his touch. 

Taehyung is incredibly handsome, he is nice, funny, charming and rich. And he is very much interested in you. However, you never saw him as anything more than a friend and colleague. So, you kept on declining his advances. Moreover, you aren’t brave enough to date the CEO’s son and then let people talk behind your back saying that you slept your way up. But today you let your mind wander, today you give it a thought. Maybe if you chose him instead of giving into your mother’s wish, you would have been happy? Maybe you would fall in love with Taehyung eventually? Maybe Jimin would be with someone he actually liked, instead of getting stuck in this relationship with you? Maybe? Just maybe? 

Your mouth runs before you could think it through, “will you accept me now? If I were to divorce my husband and come to you?” 

You catch Taehyung off guard with your question but he quickly gains his sanity back and smiles, “I will.” 

“Will you mind staying a bit away from my wife?” the voice comes from beside you. You know the voice, you know the owner. It’s your husband, it’s Jimin. 

You twist your head at the speed of light and see him standing right beside your barstool. There he stands like the Greek God he is. His perfectly sculpted body is draped in a purple suit accompanied by a purple silk dress-shirt that has its first few buttons opened. His dark hair falls on his eyes, making him look much more appealing than he already is.

You catch him glaring at Tae’s arm, which is encircled around your shoulder. Is he jealous? But why? 

You suppose Tae noticed that too, as he unwraps his hand from your form. 

Jimin now looks directly into your eyes. There is a darkness in his eyes that you never perceived before. Something that makes chill run through your spine. You try to comprehend the situation. You try to think if you are hallucinating or not because there is no way Jimin would actually be here. 

“Sure man. She’s all yours.” says Tae as he gets up from his bar stool and proceeds to leave you two alone. No, you are not hallucinating. Both you and Tae can’t hallucinate at the same time. 

You part your lips to say something but you are immediately interrupted by your co-worker. 

“Y/N! Why won’t you receive your calls? Mr. Park was looking for you like a lost puppy.” says Hyun Mi. 

“Oh? I was… ah distracted.” You reply somehow, avoiding the ice-cold glare that your husband is giving you now. Thanks to your misery, you completely forgot you carried a purse and that had your phone inside it. 

“Very sad. Mr. Park you could have watched your wife receiving her trophy if you came thirty minutes earlier. Anyway, enjoy.” she says again before getting lost into the crowd. 

Jimin walks towards the seat Taehyung was sitting previously and sits down. 

“Congratulations” he says, you nod. You don’t look at him even when he sits closer than he ever had. 

“I thought you had a press conference to attend today?” You ask quietly. 

“It ended early so I came.” Jimin says while waving to the bartender and placing his order. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“Why? Are you annoyed that your plan of divorcing me got interrupted?” Jimin chuckles. It’s probably the third time in eleven months that you are hearing him chuckling. But this time it’s because of you, and it’s dark, filled with malice. 

You don’t say anything. 

“Who was that guy? Your ex?” he asks again. 

“No. He can be my future though.” You reply calmly, as if you are suggesting something as casual as dinner menu. 

“What makes you think I will let you go so easily?” Jimin places his next question. 

“Your reluctance towards my existence?”

“I am not reluctant towrdas you, Y/N. I am rather very much aware.” Jimin raises his voice a bit.  

“Aware of how much you don’t want me in your life?” 

“No! Quite the opposite actually.” 

That makes you take a look at him, finding him already staring at you. You cock your eyebrow as if to ask for an explanation.   

If you expected him to say something then you are wrong because he changes the topic right away. 

“You look very… beautiful tonight.” Jimin rakes his eyes through your body, which seem to come to a halt when they reach to your chest and then drop down to your exposed thigh. You cross your legs and expose more of your skin as you catch him staring shamelessly. 

He smirks. One of his hands reaches to grab the supple flesh of your thigh harshly. You almost spit your drink out. 

“Don’t tease me, Y/N. I have been having a tough time controlling myself for these eleven months already.” Jimin’s voice drops down a few octaves as his thumb draws invisible circles on your thigh. 

Your eyes widen but you try to play innocent, “What do you mean?” 

Jimin’s fingers glide higher on your smooth skin and it reaches where you have only imagined his fingers before. 

His digits hover above your mound as he mouths, “Let me show you what I mean.” 

*****************

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie

[wndaswife]

au where you’ve been best friends with taylor for all of college, and moved to los angeles with her after graduating because you’d always wanted to move there together, and after graduation, you find a job interning for a photography studio and taylor finds some jobs modeling

but overtime your lives seem to differ, with taylor beginning to grow into a new online persona with new friends and an entirely new career

it’s been a few weeks since you last saw taylor because you travelled briefly to pasadena for a shoot, and taylor invites you over to her place where she’s hosting a lunch celebrating a new partnership with a huge modeling company

it’s the first time you’re meeting her friends

you’re happy to see taylor but don’t integrate very well with her friends, and you notice quickly how much taylor has changed. her behaviour is different, her humour and her laugh, the kinds of friends she has, and even the way she decorates her place is so… unlike her

it’s all fine, really, until you overhear some of her friends talking about you. they say you’re strange and quiet, and that they can’t understand how the two of you are friends at all. taylor doesn’t seem to defend you at all, saying only passive things like, “well, we met in college,” as if to say it was so long ago when we were closer, and also says things like, “she’s always been like that.”

you don’t mention it to her, and taylor and you talk sometimes over text trying to give brief updates about your lives. she even tries to make plans to go for coffee, but a part of you worries how awkward your meeting will be for how much she’s changed, and you always make excuses not to show up

she asks you about ezra, a guy you had sorta met the last time you were over. she tells you that she thinks he likes her, and wants to know your opinions on him. you say he seems cool. taylor sounds relieved over the phone

they start going out and you start getting busier, travelling for shoots and networking with various photography companies across LA, and taylor starts missing you. her life starts to pick up too, getting deals and partnerships and networking, and in the midst of all of it, often taking a step back and observing herself as she talks about things she doesn’t really care about, acting in ways she can’t even recognize

she thinks of you often when her and ezra are together and she thinks it’s just curiosity. what would you be like in a relationship with a girl? she’s never seen you in one except for once you had an almost-relationship with a girl a few years ago. ezra touches her in ways taylor knows isn’t like how you touch her at all; he doesn’t know how she likes when you place your hand on her lower back with your fingers against the curve of her spine, running up and down its length absently

you’re hardly ever at home, always traveling somewhere for work like you two always wanted to do. one of your most far fetched plans together was to get careers that complemented one another so you’d somehow always be working together

one week when the timing is finally right, taylor sets up a time for you to drop off one of your old cameras at her place. she wanted it to take her own pictures and she knew you had a few laying around. she feels so much loss when the two of you talk, and feels so much distance

i’ve never been good at words, she tells you

oh, i know, you say

but you can’t help her with what she wants to say, you don’t know how she feels — in fact, it doesn’t seem like you know this taylor at all

when taylor gets engaged she invites you to the wedding, she wants you to be her maid of honour. she doesn’t tell you her plans for that at first because she doesn’t want to pressure you. but you’ve just started a project working overseas, and you’re set to leave in a few weeks. it’s a huge opportunity for you

you promise you’ll stop by to give a wedding gift the moment you’re back home

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [1]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past

Word Count: 4,506

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn't meant for everyone.

Chapter #01: TWO PORGS, ONE BLASTER

Chapter Summary: The Marshal is looking to hire a nanny, and you just so happen to be moving into the city.

“remember to live while you’re busy surviving.” -d.j.

Din Djarin was busier these days than he ever had been before. Even compared to years ago, when he was picking up dozens of bounty pucks and collecting quarries left and right, it was nothing compared to now. If he had known that being Nevarro's marshal would be so hectic, he may have never accepted it. At the thought, he sighed. That was a bold faced lie. He still would’ve taken the job in a heartbeat because the pay was better than anything he had ever made previously. Speaking strictly in terms of credits, it was significantly less than the various bounties he’d pick up, but the job brought him peace of mind. It brought safety to Grogu. More than just safety, it gave the child the opportunity to grow and learn in an environment where he wasn’t at risk. They had settled here a couple of months ago, and for most of that time Grogu had been happy and free of night terrors. It was a blessing Din couldn’t quantify. He’d work every second of every day if it meant the child grew up safe and loved.

At the thought of his son, he picked up his pace toward the repair shop run by Peli who had ventured from the sands of Tatooine to the growing and thriving Nevarro. She was usually the one who watched Grogu while he was working. When Peli couldn’t, there were a handful of others in town who were more than happy to help out. Din was eternally grateful that the community was willing to go above and beyond as a favor to him. In the beginning, he had actually brought Grogu with him on the job. It wasn’t absurd. Back in the day, when his journey with Grogu first began, he brought the child along on bounties. A day in the life of a small community Marshal was actually quite tame in comparison. Still, that wasn’t normal, and Din wanted normal. School would be starting up soon, as summer ended, and Din was excited to get Grogu enrolled.

He had a stable job and they had a home. Starting Grogu's education was the next step in establishing picture perfect normalcy.

The loud noise of Peli’s shop filled the air as he got closer. All three of the garage’s hanger doors were lifted and open, and Din could see it had been a busy day for the mechanic. Ships, speeder bikes, droids. There was a large collection of mechanical works being actively repaired.

“Peli! Marshal's here!” A mechanic barked out the moment he stepped into the garage. Din turned his way, but the employee didn’t bother looking up from the work they were occupied with.

Din pressed further into the shop. Helmet glanced around, looking for a blur of chaotic green, but his eyes didn’t land on his son. “Mando!” Din spun in place as the curly haired woman marched up to him. Peli was one of the few people in Nevarro who didn't refer to him as Marshal. She said she didn't want it to go to his head. Other mechanics dove out of the way to avoid her path. Though she was short in stature, Peli could command a room with voice alone. Her jumpsuit was covered in splotches of engine oil. “Took you long enough!”

“Peli.” Din nodded in greeting. “Where’s Grogu?”

“Your son,” Peli jabbed a finger in his direction, “ate a handful of bolts today.”

Din stiffened. “He what!? Where is he?”

“Just joking. He didn’t.”

“Peli, that isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

Din resisted the urge to palm the front of his helmet into his hands. He let out a weathered sigh, “Did he eat metal bolts or didn’t he?”

“Not today. No telling about tomorrow.” Peli scoffed. “This shop is no place for a kid! I’ve been telling you that for weeks now!”

Din set his hands on his hips. “No, you haven't.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking it!”

The sound of familiar babbling alerted him to his son’s presence, and Din turned in time to see Grogu quickly waddling in his direction. Argument with Peli forgotten, he grinned and scooped up the child who continued to babble enthusiastically.

“Hey there, you little womp rat.” Din rubbed his belly and Grogu wrapped his arms around his hand in response. The sound of his laugh made Din chuckle himself. As important as his goal of normalcy was, Din missed the uninterrupted time he used to have with his son. There was a lot wrong with their previous adventures, a lot of danger, but nothing beat the long days in hyperspace and hiding where his only responsibility was to care for the child. “I heard you’ve been giving Peli trouble.”

Grogu laughed again⏤ not even attempting to hide his guilt. Peli wagged her finger in his direction once more. “You see? It’s only a matter of time until he swallows one of my tools. Then what would we do? I’d be a tool short!”

“I’m sorry, Peli.” Din chuckled. “School will be starting up soon. You won’t have to watch him during the day then.”

“He’ll still need watching after, won’t he? Your work day isn’t done until evening!” Peli argued. “And what about the nights when you get called into work?”

Din winced, but he kept his head still so Peli wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t wrong. There had been a handful of times when Din's presence was required at the station and he was forced to drop Grogu off with Peli in the dead of night. She lived in a small apartment beside the shop, and her shop was on the way from their home to the station. Stopping to leave Grogu with her was too easy to resist. It wasn't like he could leave the child at home alone.

Grogu began to tap on the side of Din’s helmet and he began to bounce the child in his arms to distract him. “I’m sorry, Peli. I really appreciate everything you do for us. You know that, right?” Peli waved his words away with a huff. As brash and grumpy as the woman could be, especially on a busy day, he knew Peli loved spending time with Grogu and he knew that complaints aside she’d always be willing to help out. It was why he was so grateful for her. “My hands are tied right now. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Hire someone, you lug!” Peli scoffed. “Get a live-in nanny.”

“Live-in nanny?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Yeah. Someone who can watch little bright eyes around the clock when you can’t. Someone who’ll be there at 3AM when you get called into the office. Why do I gotta come up with all the good ideas around here?”

Din didn’t love the idea, but he couldn’t deny the merits of it. Once upon a time, he would’ve shot it down immediately. However, he wasn’t who he once was. Din had learned that going out on a branch to trust someone didn’t always end bloody. The community was filled with people Din had taken a chance on and was rewarded in his risk. He had friends he trusted, and they never would've been in his life if he hadn't taken the risk in the first place.

“Where…” Din cleared his throat. “Where would I even find one?”

“Whoop, whoop!” Din and Peli both turned to see a mechanic a few feet away. They had been buried under a speeder bike but jumped up in excitement. Dirty goggles hung around her neck and the light pink color of her skin made the black grease stains stand out more. “Howdy, Marshal Mando.”

“Nima.” Din greeted with a nod. He didn’t know every single person who worked for Peli, but Nima was Peli’s right hand mechanic. The young Twi’lek was extraordinary with a wrench if Peli was to be believed, and Din knew it took a lot to impress the older woman. “How are you?”

“Real swell.” Nima stepped closer, rubbing her hands on a rag tucked into her overall pocket. “Not to be nosy, but I heard you got a job that needs filling and I have a cousin who needs a job.” Din tilted his head and waited for her to elaborate. “My cousin is moving here⏤ well, let me clarify, she’s not my actual cousin by blood. We’re cousins by marriage. Her mom’s sister married my mom’s brother. We⏤ wait, they actually got divorced like a year ago so I don’t know if we technically⏤”

“Nima!” Peli barked. “The point!”

“Right, right, right.” Nima shook her head. “My maybe not cousin is moving to town, and she’s looking for work.”

Din lifted a hand to lightly grasp Grogu’s hands as the kid tried to pry his helmet up. “Does she have experience with kids?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Nima nodded. “She’s a superstar with kids. Total magic.”

Peli slapped her hand against the beskar of his chest plate then pointed at him. Din sighed and gave them both a slight nod. “I’d be willing to meet her, but that’s it. No promises.”

“She’ll be in town by the end of the week!” Nima cheered. “I’ll bring her around!”

Grogu began to whine, and Din thanked both women before making his way out of the garage. It was time for dinner and the child was quick to get fussy when a meal wasn’t on its way. Plus, Grogu had gotten accustomed to nights in the privacy of their home when Din would remove his helmet. It had become a part of their routine.

“Buir, buir, buir.” Grogu chanted.

“I know, I know.” Din chuckled as he unlocked the front door. Once in, he used his free hand to pull his helmet off and tucked it under his elbow with a smile.

Grogu patted his face in excitement. “Buir!”

“Let’s get some dinner ready, ad’ika.” Din stepped further in. Hearing Grogu speak Mando’a warmed his heart. Hearing him speak at all warmed his heart, really. Din was convinced his son knew more basic and Mando’a than he’d shown. The few things he did say he only said in the safety of their home. Another reason Din was excited for school to start, he hoped it’d excite Grogu into speaking more.

Din set the boy down so he could move around the kitchen easier, and he couldn’t bite back the smile of ease on his face. He loved his life, he loved his son, and Din didn’t think things could get more perfect than what it was right now. He just hoped adding in a new face wouldn’t disrupt their routine.

You absentmindedly let your fingers trace the ugly, jagged scar along your collarbone. The wound had healed months ago, but there was something about the rough skin that haunted you. It didn’t hurt. If anything the tissue there was numb, and that bothered you more than anything else. For some reason, it felt wrong that you weren’t in pain.

The transport ship rumbled to a stop as it landed, and it snapped you back into the moment. You straightened in your seat and glanced out the window. A year and a half ago nobody ever spoke of Nevarro. It had been a blip in the Outer Rim for bounty hunters and those hiding from the New Republic. Now, it was a bustling trade post flourishing with life. From where your ship sat on the landing pad, you could see the white and gray buildings of Nevarro stretching out into the black, glassed land of the mountains that sat on the edge of the lava plains. It still wasn't a very large community. Not yet, at least. Your eyes scanned the land beside the landing pad. You had lived in the beautiful greenery of Naboo, the bustling cities of Coruscant, and the sandy dunes of Tatooine. This was vastly different in comparison.

You let a few others leave before rising yourself. As you followed the very small crowd off the ship you stretched your legs out best you could without stopping. It had been a long trip from Mos Espa to Nevarro. The second your feet stepped onto the landing pad you heard your name being screamed by a familiar voice. It was almost odd to hear it said aloud after so much time, but the voice of your old friend kept you from flinching. A broad smile crossed your features and you barely had time to turn before you were tackled in a hug.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” Nima cheered in your ear. She squeezed you tight enough that all you could manage was a small pat on her back considering she had your arms pinned to your side.

“I missed you too.” You wheezed. “And now I’m beginning to miss air.”

Nima released you, taking a step back, and you sucked in a large breath. She bounced in place, her pink lekku whipping around her, “I’m so happy you’re finally here! It’s been way, way too long!” It was true, and seeing Nima brightened your mood significantly. “How was your trip-”

The beginnings of your name began to slip from her mouth, but your hand snapped out to cover her lips. Her eyebrows rose in confusion, and you just offered her a sheepish smile. "Soran. Call me Soran. Remember?" Her eyes widened and you could see a flash of regret in her eyes. She had simply forgotten. "It's okay. No biggie. Just... Soran, okay?"

"I'm so sorry. I just got so excited." Nima apologized. "Don't worry, I didn't use your real name with anyone in town or anything." You nodded and made your way to where luggage was being placed on the landing pad from the storage bin. Nima walked a step behind you. You scooped up your bag, wrapping it around your shoulders, and Nima looped one arm through yours. "I'm so happy you're here."

The words were said with such sincerity that it warmed your heart. It made you wish you had taken her up on her offer ages ago. She began to drag you across the landing pad toward the start of the town. Her cheery attitude and happy-go-lucky demeanor was contagious. She was talking up a storm, something about work, while you gazed at the street you walked down. The path was paved and the street was filled with people milling about happily. A few vendors sold goods in the open at stalls, and you could hear the music of a band from further down the street. It was a cozy and warm atmosphere, and it wasn't the kind of place you expected Nima to settle down.

You met Nima during your teenage years when part of her family married part of yours. The two of you had grown close and without a doubt she was one of your closest friends. Family really. It was why at your absolute lowest you had caved and accepted her invitation to join her in Nevarro. Nima worked at a local mechanic shop which turned out to be her calling. She had always been good at tinkering with anything mechanical, but she was thriving under the instruction of the woman she worked for. At least, that's what she was constantly telling you. Nima had found her happy place, and you were ecstatic for her.

“⏤and Peli is still awesome.” Nima continued. “When we're not busy, she's letting me work on this old Razor Crest with her. It's some sort of secret project and the ship is in really bad shape, but I'm learning so much. It’s the best job ever.”

“That’s amazing, Nima.”

“Oh! And speaking of awesome jobs, I got you one.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“A job and a place to live. I got it covered.”

“Wow. I’m…seriously impressed, Nima. So, that means your boss is okay with me helping around the shop with inventory and stuff?”

Nima paused, then cursed in her native tongue. “I knew I was forgetting to do something. I was supposed to ask Peli about you.”

“If you didn’t ask her if I could work there, then where am I working?” You questioned in confusion.

“So, the Marshal has this super cute kid, and he needs a round the clock nanny.” Nima gave you a thumbs up. You blinked in shock, unable to find the words to voice your disbelief. She took this as a victory cheered. “I knew you’d love it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. This is a bad idea.”

“What? No way.” Nima shook her head with a pout. “You need a job and you need a place to live. I got you both in one. Two porgs, one blaster.”

“I⏤That’s⏤You said it wrong.” You said.

Nima furrowed her brow at you. “No, I think you just don’t get it. It means, like, you have two problems, the two porgs, and one solution takes care of both. One blaster.”

“It’s two porgs, one stone.”

“Why would I use a stone to hit a porg when I have a blaster?”

“You wouldn’t, but if you had a blaster you could shoot way more than just two porgs.”

“Yeah, but you only have two porgs right now.”

You waved your arms in the air as if you could swipe away the pointless argument. “This is⏤ No. We're done with that. My point is, this is not a good idea. I’ve never been a nanny before. The last time I baby-sat a kid was literally ages ago, and it was for a few evenings. I didn't live with the kid or the family.”

“You’re great with kids. I’ve seen it!” Nima argued in your favor.

“Being good with kids is not the same as helping raise one.”

Nima shrugged. “Nuance. Besides, everything else in town right now is part time work and you said you wanted a full time job.” You had said that. The more time you spent busy, the less time you had to think. That was the plan at least Bury yourself in pointless work. “I mean, you could pick up the job of local physician.”

You stiffened. “Nima⏤”

“Our main doctor sucks. Like you wouldn’t believe. Laziest asshole this side of the Outer Rim. It's the one fault of Nevarro in my opinion.” Nima scoffed. “You would do so much better⏤”

“Don’t.” You said firmly, and Nima grew quiet. “I’m not��� I’m not doing that right now. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed to⏤ to⏤” You cleared your throat. “I’m not allowed to practice medicine until the trial is over. Officially.”

Nima squeezed your arm. “The trial will be over before the year's end, at the latest, and there is no way they aren’t throwing that kriffing asshole in jail for the rest of his miserable life.” This was the exact thing you wanted to avoid. It’s literally why you ran away in the first place. “Nothing about what happened was your fault.”

“Nima, can we not?” You blurted. “I just…” Your lungs felt heavy and even though you were more than capable of breathing none of the air you sucked in was rewarding. “Tell me more about the job. The Marshal’s kid.”

Nima shot you a concerned look before nodding. “Right.” She forced a smile onto her face. “He’s a Mandalorian and his son is a 50 year old precious, green gremlin.”

“Um, what?”

Nevarro was shockingly beautiful. You had heard it was, and that it was slowly becoming a staple of the Outer Rim, but hearing it was different than seeing it with your own eyes. The population was about four thousand and it was constantly growing. Every single person you passed took the time to greet Nima, and she took the time to introduce you. It hadn’t been an exaggeration when Nima said it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The two of you emptied out at the end of a street into a large, open plaza. In it's center sat a tall bronze statue of a droid.

“That's the Magistrate's building.” Nima pointed to the tall, intricate building behind the droid statue. It was active with people going up and down the stairs that led into the building. “Magistrate Karga is super cool. He used to hand out bounties to hunters. Wild shit.”

“So, the Magistrate was an Agent of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and your Marshal is an actual Mandalorian?”

Nima nodded. “The Marshal's Deputy used to be a Shock Trooper.”

“Wow. I’m not sure I’m qualified to even live here.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be silly. You’ll fit right in.” Nima slotted her hand into yours and began to drag you down the street. She had taken you to her small apartment first, to give you time to set down your belongings and wash up, but she was quick to pull you back out into the streets. It was cute how eager she was to show you around Nevarro, and you could tell between her and everyone you met how proud they were of their community.

Nima pointed out a few shops as you passed, but it was clear that her aim was to take you to the Marshal's station. You shot her a dry look that she only grinned at in response.

“Seriously?”

“He needs somebody super soon and you need a job. Plus, a place to live. You think I want you on my couch for the rest of your life?”

You shoved her with a laugh. “I haven’t slept on your couch a single night yet, and you’re already tired of me?”

“Just come on.” Nima dragged you building nestled amongst others. It was decorated similar as the rest of the town with white bricks and dark blue flags.

The Marhsal's station wasn’t overly large. Outside, parked to the side, were a few speeders and inside the front doors was a small lobby with a woman sitting behind a desk. Nima greeted her by name, introducing you in a rush, before pulling you through. The receptionist didn’t seem surprised by this behavior and didn’t make the moves to stop either of you. You wondered if Nima came barging in here often. Was she close to the Marshal?

The hallway from the lobby led into a clean and brightly lit room. The back wall was made of windows where the lava plains could be seen since the station was at the edge of town, and there were three desks planted in the center of the room. Off to the left side were two cells, cordoned off with silver bars, and you found yourself happy to see no one was currently being held in custody. Despite having the cells present, the entire room had a casual feel to it. A dart board was hung up on a wall, darts sticking out of it, and the desks were covered in office supplies and holopads.

“What’re you doing here, trouble maker?”

“Cara!” Nima cheered as a large woman stepped into the room from a different door. She untangled her hand from yours to rush over and greet this Cara woman with a hug. She was tall and broad, and the tattoo band around her right upper arm hinted to you that this must be the Deputy Nima mentioned earlier. The ex-shock trooper. She surely looked like someone who used to work in that line of action. “I brought my cousin by to say hello!”

Cara’s dark eyes rolled over to you in amusement. “Yeah. I see the family resemblance.”

"This is Soran." Nima introduced you with the name you had adopted months ago for the sake of anonymity. “And this is Deputy Cara Dune. Resident badass.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You offered your hand. “Can I call you Cara or do you prefer Deputy badass or…?”

Cara chuckled. “Cara works.”

“Where is everyone?” Nima glanced around the room. “I’m looking for Marshal Mando.”

“Hey, Mando!” Cara yelled back through the door she came in from. She marched past the two of you to drop down into a chair at a desk. She rested her hands behind her head and casually kicked up her legs. “Our generator out back keeps cutting out.”

Nima's eyes widened, curious, “Oh, yeah?”

“It’s been a wreck since early this morning.”

“Cara, it’s making that noise again. Can you call Peli?” A deeper, modulated voice called out. You straightened in your posture as a Mandalorian dressed in silver beskar stepped into the room. Everything you knew about Mandalorians came from legend and stories. You had never met one before. The Marshal’s broad figure and confident, yet casual pace, screamed power. A blaster was hooked to his hip. He was the picture of intimidation, and you’d find yourself nervous if it weren’t for the baby carrier strapped around his chest⏤ the one with a large eared, small green toddler tucked safely in place. It cooed happily with his hands wrapped around the fingers of the Mandalorians gloved hand.

Nima clapped her hands. “Don’t bother Peli! I’ll fix it right now!”

“I’ll show you where it’s at.” Cara pushed up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out and you watched in shock as your friend abandoned you with the Mandalorian and child. You blinked in shock, mouth held open. Suddenly, Nima stuck her head back in the room. “Oops. Mr. Marshal Mandalorian, this is my cousin I was telling you about.” She grinned at you. “Cousin, this is the mighty Marshal Mandalorian and his adorable green bean child I told you about.”

With no further words, she left once more. You were gonna kill her. Most definitely. The sound of a throat clearing made your eyes snap back to the man standing across from you. His silver helmet had a t-shaped visor of black glass that gave you no hint at the expression he wore. The two of you just stared at one another for a long moment. Awkward silences were the bane of your existence and you tried to avoid them at all costs. To a fault, arguably. You thrust a hand out to him with a nervous smile. "Hi. You can call me Soran. I'm the cousin Nima always talks about, but I'm not her actual cousin, er..."

"Right." The Mandalorian replied. He shook your hand. "Call me Mando."

"Mando? Like, short for Mandalorian?" You chuckled, and he didn't reply. You rubbed your hands against your pants. Thank the Maker, he had been wearing gloves and couldn’t feel your clammy palms. If you hadn't already decided to murder Nima for abandoning you in this situation, you would've chosen to do it for offering your services to this man. A service you weren't even qualified for. Still, you needed work, a lot of it, and if this was your best option you'd do what you'd have to. “So, is this your son?”

At the question, the child began to babble happily. His adorable, nonsensical words were a good distraction from beating yourself up over asking such a stupid question.

“Yes. This is Grogu.” He responded. The modulator gave his voice a husky quality that was hard not to notice. Grogu was still babbling, but now he released his father’s hands to reach out to you. He opened and closed his hands in a grabbing motion and at the small child’s request you couldn’t help but lift a hand up to him. Grogu grasped at your finger and you offered him a small smile. “Nima says you’re looking for a job.”

Your eyes snapped up from the kid to Mando. “Uh, yes. I am.” It was silent between the two of you again, save for Grogu’s happy voice. “To be honest though…" Your brain screamed at you to lie. Tell him you had an extensive history of babysitting and were well suited for the job. However, lying had never come natural to you. It always left a terrible taste in your mouth. You sighed, "I’m by no means a professional nanny. I’m actually not even an amateur one.” Mando didn’t respond or move his head in any way to hint his thoughts. You cleared your throat. “What I mean is, I like kids, and I’m responsible enough to keep one alive." You winced at your wording. "I just- I’m a quick learner and I'm dedicated to the work I put my mind to.” Grogu tilted his head in the cutest manner you had ever seen, but his father stayed silent. You let out a low whistle. “I am not doing a very good job of selling myself, am I?”

As seconds passed, you were tempted to throw yourself out the back window and find the nearest river of lava to jump into. Just to hide from your embarrassment. Finally, he spoke, “Where are you from?”

Your eyes widened at the direction his question took this conversation. “Oh. Naboo. I was born there, grew up there too, but I lived in Coruscant for a long, long time. Only recently moved to Mos Espa on Tatooine. That's where I just came from.”

“What kind of work do you usually do?”

As if this casual interview couldn’t get worse. You rolled various answers around in your head before settling on the best thing you could. “I worked in a medical clinic.” He was quiet and you assumed that meant he wanted more. As much as you hated lying, as terrible as it made you feel, this was a necessity you reminded yourself. This kind of lie wouldn't hurt anyone. It would protect you, keep you safe. “Receptionist." You blurted. "I scheduled appointments, re-supplied the stock, counted out credits. That kind of stuff.”

“Work…keeps me busy.” Mando said. “I just need someone else around. Keep an eye on the kid while I’m out and sometimes at night if I get called in.” Your eyebrows rose. “I haven’t ever hired a nanny before. I’m... not sure what it’s supposed to entail or the usual pay. I just need help.”

You nodded. “I can do that. I can be helpful. I’m not sure of the pay either, but I’m also not picky. Maybe just a trial period, and see how it goes? A learning curve for both of us.”

Mando nodded in agreement and held out a hand for you to shake. A sigh of relief left you and you tried to pull your hand away from Grogu who refused to let go of your fingers. You lifted your opposite hand to awkwardly grasp his outstretched hand and shook it once. You didn't quite know how to feel about this acquisition. This wasn't where you thought your life would end up. The thought of starting this job filled your belly with nervous energy. You had to succeed at this. Honestly, you were just happy the Mandalorian was willing to give you a chance. More than anything that was what your life needed. A chance. An opportunity. A fresh start. On the plus side, learning how to do a completely new job would be a good enough distraction from your past, surely.

A/N: if you see this on AO3 and think ‘omg she stole this’, I promise I didn’t. That’s me on AO3 too. Pinky swear.

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Five: Birthdays @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3 // Find Part One Here (not necessary to read)

Summary: Forced to live together during covid, Rowan and Aelin have their own series of misgivings while trying to get along.

Warnings: references to covid, but really it's fluff ~1.8k words

.*.*.*.*.

Level of Concern (tell me we're ok)

If she hadn’t expressed it enough already: Aelin hated the pandemic.  She hated isolation.  She hated separation.  She hated the unknown.  She hated all of it.

Yes, she knew it was important and key to seeing lower number spikes and she knew this was all she could do aside from getting vaccinated and it was all very important to take seriously.  Sure.  Fine.

But why did it feel so lonely?

She sat at the kitchen table staring at her breakfast of granola and milk wishing it were a triple decked pile of Nutella pancakes.  Her groceries were running low and since money was tight, she had to wait until her paycheck cleared on Friday before she could go to the store.  It was Monday.

Aelin glanced at her phone.  Again.

No messages.

It was only eight, earlier than her family knew she would ever get up.  Especially on a day like today.  Still.  She would have expected at least one text from Aedion.

A small shuffle down the hall told her that Rowan was awake.  Of course he was.  Aelin was pretty sure he woke up by five-thirty so he could still work out in the living room.  It really pissed her off that he wasn’t getting fat.  She’d gained two pounds since quarantine began.  Not that she could really tell…honestly, she knew it didn’t mean anything and who the hell cared what her body looked like.  If she didn’t have to worry about money she’d be eating her weight in cake right now.

“Are you alright?”

Aelin looked up to see Rowan standing in the kitchen entryway.  She hadn’t noticed his entrance, only thinking he was moving from bathroom to bedroom.

“So good,” she said.  She took a bite of now soggy granola and hated her entire existence.

Rowan, dressed in his usual slacks and neat button up, went to start a pot of coffee.  His pine scented soap permeated the air and Aelin tried not to sniff too loudly.  Why did he have to smell good too?

After the entire incident with the cookie dough weeks ago, Aelin had tried to put some much needed distance between the two of them.  Well, much needed for her.  He didn’t need her being awkward and fluttery around him.  Because she wasn’t.  Obviously.  He was just attractive and she was an idiot.

Rowan took a seat at the table across from her, bowl of premade overnight oats and bowl of berries set before him.  How much did he make that he could afford fresh fruit?  In this economy?  Maybe, maybe, once a month did she indulge on some nicer foods.  But after the “great egg famine” she relied a bit too heavily on cheaper items.  She should try working out.  Maybe that would help her slump.

“You’re staring at me,” Rowan said.  He was looking at his phone with some news app opened. 

“Am not.” Another soggy bite of granola.

“Sure,” he replied, drawing the word out.

Aelin rolled her eyes and stood.  She wasn’t going to finish this food, no matter how painful it was to waste it.  Besides, she had to prepare for her day.  She’d managed to snag a few jobs for the week that would hopefully keep her busy enough to ignore the fact that this birthday was going to be the worst she’d ever had.

#

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully.  Which Aelin had built herself up for, really.

Elide was a travelling nurse and with Covid, she’d been busier than ever.  Aedion was still stationed overseas doing something that was uber classified.  He could just say he was training with the SEALS and be done with it.  Lysandra had launched a new clothing store right before lockdown and was doing everything in her power to keep the little shop up and running.  Aelin spent a decent chunk of her paycheck on items from the store and most of her Insta feed was just reels Lysandra created.

She couldn’t be mad at any of them, not really.  Not even her own parents.  Her father had been leveraging to retire from his company but that hope had been shot out the window and her mother was helping to care for some relatives that were also struggling.  No one was immune to the chaos the last several months had caused.

Aelin was finally able log off her personal website having finished the long list of assignments and editing jobs.  Now she just needed to hear back from her clients and their re-edits.

Out in the kitchen Rowan was already bustling around.  She could hear pots banging and already a delightful aroma was permeating the air.  It was only five-fifteen, he must have finished up his day early, a first for him.

Scrubbing a hand down her face, Aelin grabbed one of her oversized flannels and tugged it on over her graphic tee, Read Banned Books was printed over the front.  It probably needs to be washed but she couldn’t be bothered with laundry.

As she shuffles out of her room she tried to decide what she has left to eat for dinner.  A frozen dinner or maybe ramen.  Which sounded terrible if she were being honest.

“I’ll be quick—” she began to tell Rowan as she entered the kitchen.  But she came up short when she saw the table was made up with two place settings.  And the stove was full of more than enough food for one person. 

She frowned.  Rowan was adamant over the rules of social distancing, his parents were older and at a higher risk of getting infected, so he wouldn’t have anyone over—the vaccine hadn’t rolled out for their area yet anyways.

Rowan glanced up at her, kitchen towel slung over one shoulder, his sleeves were rolled up leaving his forearms on display and bits of his tattoo peeking out from the fabric.

She was definitely staring.

“Happy birthday,” he said when she didn’t finish her thought. He gestured a hand around the messy kitchen then the table. “I was expecting you to take a little longer, so it’s not quite ready.”

Aelin blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“I know it’s your birthday Aelin,” he said, “and I’m sure it’s been hell for you today.  I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Something…nice?

“You made me dinner?” she asked, trying desperately to ignore the way her heart gave a flip in her chest.

“Yeah,” he said simply.  He glanced back at the stove. “It’s only a Tuscan chicken and bread.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her in ages.  She looked over his shoulder as the chicken in its cream and sundried tomato sauce as it bubbled happily away, a pot of pasta behind it.  There were dishes scattered in the sink (she’d never seen him make such a mess before) and Rowan did have a mildly frantic look in his eyes.  It was the most disheveled she’d ever seen him.

“Thank-you,” Aelin said.  She brushed a hand through her hair unsure why she was feeling so frazzled.  “Can I help with anything.”

Rowan shook his head. “We’re almost done anyways.  Have a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

Following his direction, Aelin settled into her chair, still trying to figure out if she’d stepped into a different reality.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” she asked as he finished getting everything together.

“Elide texted me,” Rowan told her, “told me that she didn’t know her schedule to give you a call and your family is…busy.”

“Right,” Aelin agreed.  Elide was dating one of Rowan’s friends, Lorcan, so it wasn’t completely strange that she would at least know of him.  “Where’d you learn to cook anyways?  You’re always whipping something up.”

“My ma,” Rowan said.  He dished a plate of food and returned it back before her.  Heavenly scents wafted up to her and Aelin realized she was salivating. “She always said she wanted to make sure I could take care of myself.  And I liked it, so I kept cooking after I went to college.”

It was the most she’d ever heard from him.  And now…now she wanted to hear more from him.

Rowan dished his own plate and sat in the chair opposite her. “I hope you like it.”

“It smells amazing,” she admitted.  She got a forkful of all the bits of the meal; chicken, basil, sundried tomatoes, parmesan cheese, all drenched in sauce.  Unable to wait for it to cool down she stuffed it into her mouth.  Rowan watched her with mixed bemusement (mostly concern).

“Oh,” she moaned, ignoring the look he was giving her.  “This is the best thing ever.”

“You’re going to burn your mouth to hell,” he said, slowly readying his own bite.

“Too good,” she replied.  She was only on her second bite and planning on seconds.  If he was going to cook for her, she’d eat every last bite.

Rowan muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t make out but she didn’t care.  It had been ages since she’d had a decent homecooked meal and this was more than decent.

“Was your day alright, all things considered?” he asked, passing her the garlic bread.

Aelin finally managed to slow down and take a drink of water and some of the proffered bread.  She took a moment to consider her answer.  If she told the truth he’d probably pity her more.

“It was okay,” she said.  “Same old.  I got a few new clients so it was keeping me busy.”  She wouldn’t see payout from these jobs for at least another three weeks which was why she was banking on this Friday’s payments to come through. “What about you?  No big ‘ol problems for you?”

She was teasing him, mostly.  He’d given her enough grief about her English degree in this economy that she didn’t being a little snippy right back at him.

Rowan rolled his eyes.  He took another bite to furlong his response.  “Same as always.”

Aelin quirked her brow. “So that f-bomb this morning was…what? Catharsis?”

“Yes.”

He responded too quickly that Aelin knew she had him.

“Right,” she drawled. “It’s alright to hate your job you know, no one will judge you or your fancy degree for it.”

“Aelin.”

She shrugged, mouth quirking in a smile. “Last one, promise.”

“I don’t trust you on that,” he said.

Aelin wasn’t offended.

They finished meal companionably, which shocked Aelin more than Rowan cooking for her.  And she helped him clean the dishes, because really, she wasn’t that terrible a person.

“So, no chocolate cake?” She asked as she dried the last pan.

“I cook not bake,” he said, “you’re on your own for that, princess.”

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.  As he turned to head back to his room for the night, Aelin garnered the last amount of courage she had for that day.

“Rowan,” she said, calling him back.  “Thank-you for tonight.”

He offered her one, rare smile. “You’re welcome.”

.*.*.*.

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments appreciated. my blog @writtenonreceiptswrites is my fic only blog where i reblog all updates!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend because I caught feelings for someone else? Context: I (26 F) had a boyfriend (28 M) of nearly 5 years. We met at the end of my college career and instantly hit it off. We moved in together not that long after we started dating, and things were great. A bit over a year ago, my boyfriend got a new job that requires him to travel a lot. We managed fine for a while, but him being gone for long stretches of time did put a bit of a strain on our relationship. I feel the need to clarify now that I have never had any suspicions of him being unfaithful during his travels. Despite the distance, he continued to be as sweet to me as the day we started dating. We used to do a lot of face time calls when able to, and he would take me out on date nights when he was home. So, at first, it wasn’t too bad. But as time continued, he got busier and busier with his job and had less time to face time me. Well, around 6 or 7 months ago, I ran into an old friend from high school. She (27 F) and I were practically inseparable in high school, but we’d grown apart after we both left for college. It was such a pleasant surprise to learn that she’d recently moved to my area. We’ve spent a lot of time catching up and hanging out in my free time, and she fit in with my friends super well. It was nice to have her as a friend again, especially when I was dealing the physical distance of my boyfriend. She’s honestly so incredibly wonderful and amazing. I really do care deeply about her. Back in high school when we were both single, we were far more affectionate with each other, but since we’ve reconnected she’s actually been super respectful of my boundaries as someone in a relationship. I know that’s the bare minimum but it really does make me happy that she was conscious of that. About a month ago, I got hit with the realization that, somewhere along the line, my feelings for my boyfriend had faded, and I had developed feelings for my friend. The moment I had this realization was when I was sick with a pretty bad cold, and she came over to my place to drop off soup to make sure I had at least something that would make me feel better. After she left, I was left with an immense feeling of guilt. Because suddenly I realized that I had very strong feelings for her, and because I suddenly realized that I may have unknowingly been emotionally cheating on my boyfriend. Of course, the next time he came home from work, I broke the news to him that I felt like we weren’t working out. He was devastated, and I feel really bad, but I feel like it would’ve been worse if I had stayed in the relationship even knowing I had feelings for someone else.

I haven't even brought up my feelings to my friend yet. Because I feel like it would be unfair to my ex-boyfriend to immediately get into another relationship, and also because I think maybe I should allow myself to be single for a while. But I still can’t help but feel like I’m the asshole for essentially emotionally cheating on him. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?