#the place we usually get pizza got worse

[liebelesbe]

need to start thinking about what food i want to get on my birthday but everything has dropped in quality so idk :/

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With each email written and received, you and Bradley are both aching for more details. While he's thinking about plans for a first date, you get apprehensive, knowing you're going to be devastated when he returns to wherever he calls home after a few days of leave. If the two of you had an opportunity to speak more intimately, there's a chance the details could fall into place.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being hot

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

After much consideration on the matter, you sat down at home that evening with your phone and started to type up a response to Bradley. He wanted to know in an overabundance of detail how you'd feel if he asked to cancel your dinner reservation and chill with takeout instead? You weren't quite sure what he was getting at, and it felt a little bit like he had given you another assignment to work on, but you were planning on being completely transparent with him. 

Once again, the ease with which you and he communicated, even through the written word alone, was something that made you a little dizzy. A little needy. Bradley had better communication skills and paid you more attention than half of the men you'd dated, and he wasn't even in the same time zone as you.

Bradley,

We got the package you sent. My kids went wild over their personalized notes, as per usual. You've reached full celebrity status in my classroom. We'll be working on sending some notes back to you in the next few days, so brace yourself.

Please remember that you asked me for an abundance of detail here... What would I do if you wanted to change plans? Wanted to spend a quiet evening hanging out at your place instead of going out? In an extreme effort to sound as cool as possible right now... just thinking about this is making me feel warm enough that I need to take a lap around my apartment. I guess first of all, I would tell you that as far as takeout is concerned, I love Thai food the most. I'm not very picky though, so even a generic pizza and some beer would more than suffice. 

If you said you were tired from work and still wanted to hang out, I wouldn't be too pressed about the details. I would be perhaps a little giddy that you missed me enough to want me around. I'd offer to pick up dinner on my way. I would let you choose the movie. I wouldn't even be upset if you fell asleep. In fact I'd probably just cover you with a blanket and let you doze. There is perhaps no worse feeling than forcing yourself to go out when you just really don't want to. And right now nothing sounds better to me than watching a movie with you on your couch. But I have to know... if you're 6'1", are you too tall to stretch out there comfortably? Where would I end up? Would we be touching? Please reply with an abundance of detail. 

I know this scenario is purely hypothetical, but it does sound pretty perfect. I'll be thinking about splitting some Thai curry with you on your couch for a long time. Maybe during those couple days of leave when you get back to San Diego, we could meet? I think I would like that, even if you just have one day before you have to get back to your regular routine. And now I need to take another lap around my apartment.

One last thing. The aviator who took my photo on the beach was a woman, but I appreciate your response. I can't guarantee I'll stay off the beach, but I can guarantee that I'll give a guy a chance. Also, what does a girl have to do around here to get a dreamy sunset photo of you? 

Once again, hitting send before I can change my mind.

You took another lap around your apartment, even going so far as to walk around the block before it got too dark outside. Thai food and Bradley Bradshaw and a movie on his couch. There was a loop playing in your mind where he leaned in and kissed you before calling you 'Gorgeous Girl' and reaching for your hand.

"Why are you torturing yourself like this?" you moaned out loud when you walked back inside all flushed with desire. You took a long bath. You made some sleepy time tea. You sat on your couch with your notebook and worked on lesson plans until it was pretty late, but you weren't tired at all.

Frustrated that you were letting this man take over so much of your brain, you went to your bedroom and plugged your phone in for the night. And that's when you heard the familiar ping, alerting you to the fact that you had a new email.

"No way," you gasped when you looked at the screen. You'd just send him a response two hours ago, and Bradley had already written back. You flopped down onto your bed, wrenching your phone back from the charger as you started to read.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Your answer was enlightening, thank you. Relieved to hear you wouldn't pout about missing the dinner reservation. I love Thai food, but I would absolutely insist on grabbing the takeout and having you pick the movie (nothing with scary spiders, please). 

I actually don't really fit on my couch too well at all. If I really stretch out, my feet dangle over the arm, and there wouldn't be much room left for you, too. Would we be touching? God, I hope so. Where would you end up? I'm blushing just thinking about the possibilities. 

You asked for details? Well, I'd ask for permission. If you gave me permission to touch you, we'd be holding hands. If you gave me permission for more than that, then you'd be covering both of us with a blanket, and I'd be holding you a lot closer. I don't think I should provide further details on that right now, actually. Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head.

If you're feeling generous enough to give me a chance, then I'm feeling generous enough to send you a sunset photo. But frankly a girl like you isn't going to have to do much at all to get whatever she wants. Next decent sunset around here is all for you.

Your Truly,

Bradley

Well, you may never sleep again. You read his email twice before pulling up the photo of him in front of his jet, and your mind started to wander as you looked at his face. No, you'd never sleep again.

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

Bradley felt pretty ridiculous. He'd never taken so many photos of himself before in his life. Snapping a few for your class while in his cockpit with all of his gear on was one thing, but trying to get a flattering one of his face with the sun setting in the middle of the ocean was something else entirely. He was alone in a deserted part of the deck, thankful nobody else could see him. 

"Maybe she won't notice if I'm not in it," he muttered as he snapped one of the setting sun. The sky was glowing a deep orange, and the clouds moving in made everything look even dreamier. He started thinking about you and the fact that you said you were going to give him a chance. The details weren't important. He'd work that part out. When he got back to San Diego, he was going to see if you and he were as compatible in person as you were right now. But the remainder of his deployment was the one thing that was preventing that from happening immediately, and you did ask him for a photo of himself. If you really wanted it, he'd make sure you had it.

He had never been so stressed out about his scars in his adult life before right now. The best photo he took of himself was one where they looked a little more prominent. He'd sleep on it tonight and consider if he wanted to send it or a different one. Usually he didn't care at all. He supposed that in person, women would either talk to him or not, depending upon if they were bothered by the way he looked or not. But you weren't with him in person, and the more detailed the photos were, the more likely you were to dwell on his face now. He really wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After grabbing an inspired dinner alone in the mess hall, he thought about eating spicy Thai curry on his couch while you and he argued playfully about which movie to watch. Then he thought about you sitting on his lap and maybe even touching his scars which he hoped you wouldn't be bothered by. Then, as he changed to head to the gym, he imagined all the things he thought about but didn't tell you. Like pulling you onto his lap or stretching out on his couch with you lying mostly on top of him. His hand would find a nice resting spot on your back, or maybe even a little lower. His lips would eventually find yours, and the movie would become a distant memory in his mind.

"Shit." Now he was the one who needed to walk a lap before he could even go to the gym. He was already sweating by the time he got there, making it his continued mission to avoid the married woman while he listened to his playlist. He did a few extra reps, knowing you were on dry land in San Diego and wanting to make sure he looked as good as possible. Maybe he could make up for the close up photo of his face with his body.

Without sleeping on it, Bradley went back to the lounge and logged in. He sent you the best photo of the bunch along with two sentences.

Thinking of you, Gorgeous. Tell me about your week.

But he didn't hear back from you right away, and it wasn't for lack of checking his inbox. He hoped you and your students were working their way through the last batch of notes that he'd mailed. Or maybe you were busy and tired from taking them on a field trip. He was hoping there was a reason other than you not liking his bad selfie that meant he didn't get a response. 

Luckily he got busy over the weekend so he didn't have to think about it as much. Each time he climbed that ladder up to his cockpit and waited patiently for his jet to launch from the carrier deck, he took a few seconds to clear his mind and make sure he was focused on the right thing. He needed to survive this deployment so he could even potentially allow his thoughts to go further with you later.

When he made his way back to the lounge after dinner and a shower on Sunday night, he definitely got more in his inbox than he was hoping for. And not in a good way. There was a new message from you, but it was sitting right beneath a second, newer message. From Vanessa.

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked himself, loud enough that the guy next to him turned and glanced his way. It had been months since they'd spoken. Literally fucking months, and she was emailing him now? "No." Sudden panic started to boil to the surface as he quickly tried to click on it, now terrified about what she could be contacting him in regards to.

Hi,

I'm only writing to you because I have a bit of an issue that I need your help dealing with. I can't find my favorite water bottle anywhere. I think it's in your kitchen cabinet, and I just started at a new gym, so I really need it. Let me know how I can get into your house to retrieve it. And please don't take forever to respond to this like you usually do. Like I said, I really need it.

Vanessa

It was a joke. It must be. Bradley double checked the email address to make sure he wasn't being pranked by Nat or somebody else, but no, it was really from Vanessa. 

"A fucking water bottle?" he muttered. He couldn't even picture what she was talking about. Unless it was that ugly, oversized pink thing she used to carry around with her everywhere? The one with the big handle that he joked could double as a weapon? That thing?

What the fuck. He wrote back to her before he even bothered to open the email from you.

Vanessa, it's a water bottle. And it's already been months. Can't this wait until I'm home?

He hit send, rolled his shoulders and took a few deep breaths. He could archive her message so he didn't have to see it again, and he'd just deal with her bullshit later. He would read what you had to say instead, and hopefully it would cheer him up. But after he stood and stretched for a minute and sat back down, there was already a new response from Vanessa waiting for him.

"What the actual hell?" he grunted. He didn't even know what time it was at home, and he didn't take the few seconds to do the math as he started to read.

No, Bradley. I can't wait. It's a $65 sustainable, dual temperature, leak proof water bottle in a limited edition color. And I would like it back. I tried to find a replacement online, but I do not want a potentially used water bottle. Please advise.

He sat there with his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. He literally could not believe her. Anyone else would just use a different water bottle like a normal person, but he knew she'd be on his ass nonstop about this now. The fact that he was going to have to explain this situation to Nat and beg her to go over there with his spare key was almost laughable. He'd probably owe her two steak dinners if he asked her to deal with his ex girlfriend, because she never could stomach Vanessa. 

He sent Nat a quick email anyway with Vanessa's phone number which he had to look up in his phone, begging her to take care of this for him. It would be worth the price of two dinners at this point. Then he settled back in his seat and tapped on your beautiful name, letting the monitor fill up with your words. When he started reading, he forgot he was supposed to feel nervous at what you sent back in response to the close up selfie.

Bradley,

Wow. I didn't think things could improve after the photo of you with your jet and the video where you're speaking. But I was wrong. So wrong. And I'm not upset about it. You're very handsome. The sunset looks okay, too. Now you're the one messing with my head.

I'm sorry I didn't write back immediately, but you should know that your hot photo has taken up residence in my mind. My week involved three of my students getting sick with the flu as well as a bunch of parent/teacher conferences, and tonight I'm really tired. The idea of snuggling, or more, with you on your couch has been playing on loop. I'm giving you permission to hold my hand if we ever meet in person. You have very nice looking hands. You have a very nice looking everything. Would you mind me asking how old you are?

Right, well, we mailed another box back to you on Friday afternoon. My kids asked me to project a photo of a Super Hornet onto the wall so they could have a drawing contest. I finally caved and let them, and they want you to be the judge. And once again, you'll have eighteen individual letters to read. Nineteen if you include the one I put in the box.

On that note, I'm going to take a bath and snuggle up in bed. And you can't blame a girl for looking at that photo again.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal 

Now this was the kind of thing he wanted in his inbox, not questions about missing water bottles. Bradley hit reply immediately, happy that you hadn't even mentioned his scars. You thought he was handsome in the close up picture? He always figured he was okay enough looking that his height and build made women say he was attractive. But you actually called him handsome. He started typing back to you, already feeling so much better.

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

After resting all weekend, you were definitely feeling better. You loved your students, but sometimes dealing with their parents was more than you bargained for. Adults were often worse than kids when it came to complaining and exercising patience. All of the conferences from last week were a thing of the past now, but you still felt a little bad for taking so long to write back to Bradley. Especially after he sent you that photo.

Maybe you felt like you had to reel it in a little bit. What was the most that was going to happen? He'd agree to meet you during his short leave in San Diego? Maybe you'd go out on a date? It would probably be the best date of your life. It might even turn out to be the best night of your life. And then he'd leave for another station with the Navy, or maybe he'd return back home, leaving you feeling even lonelier than you did before you inadvertently mailed him that first box.

It was a good thing you had your students to take your mind off things on Monday morning. 

"Are we going to talk about aviation now or after lunch?" Violet asked as she unpacked her pencil box.

You took a deep breath and said, "We're actually going to start a unit on Natural History today." Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at you like you'd completely lost your mind. "It'll be great!"

Oliver's hand rocketed into the air. "Does Lieutenant Bradley also know stuff about Natural History? Is that what we're going to write to him about now?"

Great. Your students were just as attached as you were. "Well since our aviation unit is going to be tapering off, we probably won't need to be writing to him as much now."

"What?" gasped Jayden. 

"No way," complained Nia. 

After that, you tried to move along with your lesson plans, but the entire class just sat there quietly, barely engaged with what you were saying. And perhaps part of it was your fault, because you didn't really feel like teaching this after all. By the time lunch and recess arrived, you felt defeated. You sat quietly at your desk in your empty classroom while your kids played outside, and you ate your lunch while you checked your phone. Bradley had written back an hour ago. Even if you wanted to wait until later to read it, you wouldn't have been able to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

That note from you made my day. I can't wait for the new letters from the kids to arrive so I can spend my evenings writing back instead of absolutely living in the gym right now. You want me to judge a drawing contest? Bring it on. I'm so ready.

I'll tell you how old I am. I wasn't expecting to be so nervous about it, though. I'm thirty-six. You definitely look younger than that. I know it's never appropriate to ask a woman how old she is, so maybe you'll offer that number up without me asking? And maybe you'll tell me that I'm still within the age range of men you let email you regularly? Please?

Not gonna lie, taking a hot bath sounds amazing right now. And snuggling up in something bigger than an extra long twin bed would be heavenly. And thinking about you doing either of those things is enough to get me through the week with a smile on my face. Maybe even through the rest of the month. Maybe even to the point where I'm in San Diego. You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?

I'll be waiting for more air mail and another email.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

"Damn it," you groaned, melting back into your desk chair and shoving a cracker into your mouth. Even if meeting him was going to be a one-off, you still wanted to do this. You still wanted to write back to him and flirt and listen to his voice in the video he sent for your class with Marty the mechanic. You wanted to think about him working out on the aircraft carrier. You still wanted him to call you Gorgeous. You'd write back tonight.

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

Bradley was taking another video and some more photos in the shop with Marty for your class when one of the admirals stopped by. He jumped to attention and addressed him. "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, you haven't put in for a phone call. Would you like to?"

Bradley just blinked at him for a few seconds. "I don't really have anyone to call, Sir." But that wasn't completely true. He'd never actually asked you about it, but he wouldn't mind calling your number. Which he didn't even have.

The admiral nodded and said, "Just giving first dibs to my high rankers who haven't made a call home yet. Otherwise you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

As soon as he started to walk away, Bradley found himself following along. "Actually, Sir, I may have changed my mind."

If he was already thinking about Thai food and a picnic on the beach for a first date, he might as well just ask you for your number now. As long as you didn't tell him his age was an issue. As long as you seemed keen on the idea of him calling. So he put his name down on the list, and then he started to sweat. He finished up with Marty, and he headed for the lounge.

When he logged in, he braced himself for another note from Vanessa like he always did now, but the only new item he saw was from you. He decided right then that if the vibes still felt right, he'd ask for permission to call you. And yeah, the vibes were feeling pretty fucking good. 

As soon as he opened the email, the attached photo at the bottom pulled his gaze in like a beacon. You were in bed, mostly under the covers, and the thin straps of some sort of tank top were the only thing preventing him from having a completely unobstructed view of both of your shoulders. Your skin looked impossibly soft, too perfect for him to touch with his rough hands, and your expression was playful and maybe a little nervous. He could see the soft swell of your breasts before the blankets enveloped your body in the most comfortable looking cocoon. He wanted to join you there in the worst way, and keep you warm enough that you wouldn't even need that blanket.

His heart was pounding as he started to read your note.

Bradley,

You know, it's funny you should mention that, because my currently inactive dating app profile says I'm interested in men who are between 30 and 40 years old. So you sound kind of perfect to me. And not that you asked or anything, but I turned 30 earlier this year. I hope that's within the age range of women that you let email you regularly.

I'm writing this from my bed. I have attached a photo. I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm all snuggled in for the night, and of course I'm thinking about you. Whether it's a good idea or not, I find myself frequently thinking about you.

Your favorite pen pal

He scrolled back to the photo and sighed. Oh, he knew it was a good idea. Maybe you just needed a little bit more convincing, but it was definitely a great idea. That first date was looking better and better in his mind. He wished he could give you an estimate on when he'd be home so the two of you could start planning it. Bradley's stomach was growling for dinner as he pried his eyes away from your photo long enough to type out a message.

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

And now, once again, he would wait for you to respond, hoping his luck wasn't about to run out.

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

A phone call! She him your number immediately, Gorgeous! There are some things you need to hear him say in that raspy, sexy voice! Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[seeingivy]

speak now

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

songs mentioned: the greatest by lana del ray and speak now by taylor swift! (minor mentions: daylight and forever winter by taylor swift)

an: LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION BITCHES!!!

previous part linked here

--

There’s something strange about showing Eren around an elementary school. Or strange about being around Eren at all. 

There’s an overarching hunch, a quiet fear that parrots in your mind whenever you’re with him, stuck in those quiet pockets of time that you feel like he can see right through you, that every secret thought ricocheting in your mind is one that he’s entirely cognizant of - and that he hates it for it.

It almost fills you with disgust. How badly you want to be around him all the time, to be able to read him the way you’re positive that he can read you, just so that you can know what he’s thinking. 

Is he upset with the way you reacted? Does he know how grateful you are towards him? Is he consoled by the fact that he’s fully forgiven? Does he care?

Does he think about you as much as you think about him? 

The elementary school makes it worse. Almost emotional. Because it’s the fact that even though it’s not your school, it’s exactly how you remember it - so nostalgic that it’s nauseating. Though the colors are less vibrant, almost too dull this time around. The desks are comically small, when they used to be so expansive that you could barely reach the front corners. 

“Did you ever collect Box-Tops?” you ask Eren. 

He looks at you, face wrinkled in confusion as he shrugs. And the second his eyes lock with yours, you quickly swallow down your gulp of shame - at the lost, almost pinched look in his eyes - as he quickly averts his eyes. 

Does he hate you for bringing it up? Does he want to berate you for rubbing in the fact that he had no semblance of a normal childhood? 

You take the little jar, the little cardboard slips secured in the glass, as you hold it up to him. 

“These are Box-Tops. They’re usually on the top of cereal boxes and granola bars and stuff. You can collect them and bring them to class and whoever gets the most in your grade usually gets a pizza party. It’s a charity-type thing where they get more funds for things like arts programs at your school by turning them into the foundation.” you murmur, placing the little jar in his hands. 

“You can’t just…fund the schools properly?” Eren asks, wrinkling his nose. 

“Are you crazy, Eren? Why would they ever do that?” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eren smiles.  

“Figures. D’you ever win?” 

“Win what?” 

“The pizza party.” 

“Oh, maybe once or twice. They usually only buy two pizzas so you get a comically small slice so that it’s enough to go around for everyone. And I had Falco and Colt to share with - we had to split all the Box Tops we collected evenly between the three of us so I always felt lame turning like three or four in.” you state. 

Does he think your complaint is stupid? That you should be grateful that you even got to experience it in the first place? 

“What if there was an even number?” 

“Rock paper scissors. Then Falco started crying when he lost, so we ended up giving it to him anyway.” you state. 

“Very on brand.” 

Eren smiles - brightly this time - as he sets the jar back onto the top of the filing cabinets and the two of you continue to awkwardly pace around the room. Eren’s overwhelmed with the memory - of Falco sobbing at his first Canadian Christmas when he was asked what he was thankful for - and the consistency makes him warm.

There’s something unsettling about the room - about how foreign it is to him. There’s a weird echo panging in Eren’s chest, somewhat caused by how longingly you seem to be looking at every little detail of the room. Running your hand over the hardwood desks, picking up the box of crayons, almost frowning at the pictures.

The thoughts that run through Eren’s mind are almost paralyzing, that he can barely keep his beating heart collected in his chest, and more awkwardly, that you know and are choosing to ignore it for civility sake. 

Are you going to leave him when the show ends? Would you have left him if you lived a different life too?

Are you never going to end up together?

“Did you ever see Falco and Colt? When you were at school? S’that like a thing that happened?” Eren asks, poking around each of the little flyers on the bulletin board.

“Ah. Not really. Though sometimes when I was going to art class and Falco was going to computers or something, we’d kind of pass each other. We’d always be really excited to see each other. When we saw Colt, he always pretended like he didn’t even know who we were.” you state. 

Eren can't stop the thoughts.

Do you hate him for bringing up a life that was robbed from you? The security of a school, of a quiet life because he selfishly picked you to be at his side? 

Eren hums in response, as you head over to the last wall - the one left untouched by your inspecting eyes - as you fight the urge to smile. There’s little pictures of each of the students, Teddy right towards the top with a big toothy smile on his face. You point it out to Eren as you catch it before him, memorizing the soft look that spreads over his face when he finally catches light of it. 

“You ever see Zeke?” you ask. 

“Well, we technically watched a movie with him in it? So, that counts?” Eren shrugs. 

“That’s right. Having your own parents and your brother as your source material must be so crazy.”

The thought that follows your comment nauseates Eren.

Are you trying to point out how different you are, so much so that you’ll never be able to be together? 

“I can imagine exactly how you would be in elementary school.” Eren states, slinging his arm around your shoulder and bringing his face nearly flush with yours. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask.

“You’d be like…this girl.” 

You inspect the picture, rolling your eyes at the cop-out answer. Each of the little pictures is labeled with their hobbies or their interests, and naturally, Eren’s picked the girl who says she wants to be a songwriter. 

“You’re funny.” you respond, sarcastically. 

“S’nothing funny about it.” Eren responds. 

“You’d be like…this one. He seems like the type of kid who would pull on a girl's pigtails, which according to Mikasa, is something that you actually did.” 

Eren’s going to kill Jean. 

“That’s just how you get a girl's attention.” Eren responds. 

“Is that right? Had something you wanted to tell Mikasa really badly?” you smile. 

Eren’s almost embarrassed that you know. That he feels the need to defend himself, to prove his devotion to you even though there would be no reason for him to do that. 

“Ugh. Who told you?” Eren asks. 

You can’t help but laugh. 

“I can’t remember. Maybe Jean?” 

“It was two days!” Eren whines. 

You’re not sure how the topic came up, but Jean humbled you very fast when you claimed that you were the first person that Eren ever liked. Apparently you weren’t because Eren had sported a two day crush on Mikasa when they were younger, before he ever met you, which left you embarrassed - but also ready to tease him to oblivion. 

“Eremika…” you state. 

Eren clamps his hand over your mouth, as you quickly shove him off. 

“Shut up.” Eren states. 

“It’s funny! Mikasa’s getting married and you’re stuck at a five-year old’s piano concert. With seats all the way in the back, mind you.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans back and sits on top of one of the desks. You follow suit, ignoring the little creak, as your legs swing over the top of the desk. 

“What was your signature move in elementary school for the boys?” 

“Was I supposed to have game as a seven year old?” 

Eren scoffs. 

“Well, we can’t all be talented.” Eren teases. 

“I hardly qualify hair pulling as a game. That’s an annoying way to get attention.” 

Eren smiles, leaning forward and curling his hands around a lock of your hair, before he lightly tugs. His face is so close to yours that you can make out the tiniest wrinkles in his skin, marked around his eyes. 

“Annoyed?” Eren teases, his voice barely a whisper. 

You shake your head, ever so slightly. A jarring movement feels too loud, like he’ll move away at the smallest of breaths, like a deer in the woods. 

“Down to my very core.” you respond. 

Eren smiles, the wrinkles even more pronounced, as you almost lean your forehead against his, skin ghosting each others. The thoughts are racing at this point, so fast that Eren can barely feel his breaths. 

Is he ever going to be in love with someone who isn’t you? 

“I feel the need to clarify. It was two days.” Eren states. 

“Two days of hopeless pining.” 

“Nothing compared to the three years of it that I did with you.” 

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning. 

He knows. It's written all over your face.

“Nothing compares to a puppy-love childhood crush.” you state. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. I get the whole innocence of the puppy-love thing, but nothing pales comparison to the intensity of a teenage dream.” Eren states. 

Eren watches your eyes waver and feels his throat constrict. 

You know. It's written all over his face.

Thankfully for him, and less so for you, Sukuna ruins the movement. His shouting from the doorway breaks that quiet bubble, quickly pulling you both farther away from each other. 

“What the hell are you guys doing? It’s starting in five minutes.” 

--

You and Eren settle into your seats at the back, right by the door, as the lights dim in the little auditorium. They’re a warm golden, the smell of fresh paint tickling your nostrils.

Sitting all the way in the back has you and Eren weaving your heads around all the people crowded in front of you, the tiny cell phone lights illuminating each row. 

You catch sight of Lana and Sukuna are aggressively gesturing at Teddy on the stage from their cushy seats in the front row at your left - Sukuna trying to get him to smile for a picture while Lana tries to signal to him to fix his untied shoelaces. The coddling makes your heart burn.  

Eren digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a little camcorder that he hands to you. 

“For?” you ask. 

“Can you record it for me? I just…want to watch him in real time.” 

You smile. 

“Of course, I can.” you murmur, taking the little camera from him and flipping it open in your hands. 

“Don’t record the other kids. I don’t give a fuck.” Eren states. 

“Who knew you felt so passionately about kindergarten piano concert etiquette?” you jeer. 

“You would be shocked. Lana’s basically out of storage by the time she gets to Teddy.” Eren groans. 

You roll your eyes. 

“I think it’s sweet.” 

Eren wonders if there’s anything you can’t find the good in. His wavering suspicion is that it’s him - that you’re the worst thing he’s ever seen. So tainted that there’s barely any semblance of light left in him. 

Eren’s hanging onto the end of your words, wanting to hear the spiral of thoughts running through your mind. Your affinity to look towards the positive, to soak up all the good, to point out all the love in the room - it was something he found himself chasing even though he knew he was barely half deserving of it. 

“I just mean…when I was younger, my mom would tell me that my friend’s mom recorded me singing too and then sent it to her. And I was always really touched that they saw me and didn’t think god, it’s another kid I have to sit through. Like no, that’s Y/N! That’s my daughter’s friend.” 

Eren deflates. He figures that it comes so naturally for you - seeing the good - because he thinks the law of attraction is real; that like attracts like, that people find what’s similar to them. And that he always seems to be the antithesis to it. 

He’s always the exception to your rule. 

“And some parents are late. They’re running here from work, or…or they were late because they had another kid to take care of first and…and it still makes the kid feel special, even if they don’t know it.” you whisper. 

You twist the camera around in your hands as Eren gives you a lopsided smile, an underlying sentiment you can’t really place mirrored in his features. You’d memorize his expression just to agonize about it later, in the safe confines of your room, but your train of thought is cut off by a tapping on your shoulder. 

It’s a little girl - with dark skin and braided hair - barely the age of seven. Her little legs can’t even reach the tan colored floor, her sparkly purple shoes glittering in the dim light. 

“Hi.” she states. 

Eren leans over, a cautious arm on the small of your back, as you lean your head closer to hers and whisper. 

“Hi. Is something wrong?” you whisper. 

“Our dresses are matching colors.” she states. 

You look down - the white flowers printed on your dress matching her frilly pleats. It’s an painfully relieving breath, as you give her a smile. 

“My name’s Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.” 

“Y/N? Like the pop artist?” 

You freeze, freezing cold ice shooting down your spine. 

“I wish my mom named me after someone cool. My name’s Grace. It was my grandma’s name.” 

You can barely muster out a response, Eren’s fingertips at your side squeezing shaking the shock out of your mind. 

“I’m sure your grandma was pretty cool.” you respond, barely registering the words as they leave your lips. 

“I mean, yeah. She was old. But no one’s as cool as Y/N L/N.” she responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You can see Eren smiling out of your peripheral vision, giving a polite nod to the parents seated at her side, who’ve now caught onto the fact that their daughter is talking to a complete stranger. Eren’s quick to diffuse the situation, holding out a hand to them. 

“I’m Eren. This is Y/N. We’re here for Teddy. Curly blonde hair, big brown eyes?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry…did you say your name was Y/N?” 

You give them a sheepish smile, bringing your hands to the coarse skin above your elbows and pinching. 

“That’s right.” 

“Our daughter’s a really big fan.” they state. 

You smile, looking back down at her dark eyes, this time wide in shock. 

“Is that right?” you ask, trying to give her the warmest smile you can. 

Her parents lean down closer to her ears, the overwhelming sense of a flowery perfume taking over your senses, as you watch them talk to her, softly. 

“Okay. Ask her nicely, okay?” they ask. 

Grace gives them an obedient nod, before turning to you and puffing her chest out to you. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

“Oh. You…you want a hug?” 

“Please? It’ll be quick.” she asks, her little voice shrill with a hopeful tone. 

There’s a soft sense of elation that spreads through you, your cheeks warm at such an innocent request, as you can barely stop your arms from shaking. You open up your arms to her, as she nearly jumps into your embrace, and you squeeze her little frame as tightly as you can. The smell of strawberries wafts off her hair, accompanied by a soft giggling sound in your ear that nearly brings tears to your eyes. 

You look up to find her parents, an awkward pinched smile in their eyes, as you give them a polite smile. 

“I promise, I’ll take a picture with her after the show, okay? And if I forget, please come find me and remind me.” 

The relief is apparent in their faces - their sickeningly grateful smiles over something as simple as a picture - as you let go and she settles back into the seat next to you. 

You have to settle for recording Teddy with one hand, a deathlike grip in the camera, only because Grace refuses to let go of your other hand for the rest of the show. 

--

Eren’s surprisingly really good with kids. Or really, not surprisingly at all, because you were finding it hard to identify something that Eren was really bad at. Because even the mistakes he did make were so painfully endearing, so warmly thoughtful that you could barely accost him for it. 

He's making jokes with all the kids - participating in their rock paper scissors contests, playing pranks on their parents, and stealing cookies for them when people aren't looking.

You guys are the last ones to leave the school. But it’s only because Eren’s so enthralled with talking to all the passing people - taking pictures, signing napkins, and making phone calls to all their loved ones - that it makes your chest swell. 

The narrowed eyes still make you nervous, an underlying feeling of inadequacy - of embarrassment for hiding out for so long - is all but nauseating, something Sukuna picks up on right after Eren. 

He lets Lana take the lead on the pictures and mingling with all the parents, apparently something that was Sukuna’s forté, as he keeps his arm linked with yours, backs cold against the cement wall.  

“You know, you can go make your rounds with Lana. I don’t want to ruin your son’s piano concert for you.” you state. 

“This shit is overrated.” 

You smile. 

“You’re lying.” you state. 

Sukuna looks over at you, brown eyes fixed on yours, as you watch a smile curl on his face. It’s almost boyish - and it’s the first time that you’re acutely aware of the fact that Sukuna’s probably the youngest one here - living a life so vastly different from yours. 

“I am lying.” Sukuna states. 

“Do you like it here, Sukuna?” you whisper. 

“I’m better at this than I was at the whole - award show, celebrity world thing. People here are really easily impressed.” 

“Is that right?” 

“I handed a woman a lemonade earlier and she said God bless you. Over a fucking lemonade.” 

“That’s just basic human decency, sweetheart. Were you raised by wolves?” you ask. 

Sukuna scoffs. 

“Basically.” he responds. 

You hum in response, watching Lana crouch on the ground and press her cheek to Teddy’s as Eren quickly snaps the picture for them. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Sukuna asks. 

“Is me saying no going to stop you?” you ask. 

“Probably not.” 

“Proceed.” you respond. 

“So, what did you really do for two years? And don’t give me the same shitty bullshit as last time. I want to know what it was that you did.” he responds, tone unrelenting. 

You pause, mulling over the question. You knew it would come soon enough, the utter bleakness of it all, but you suppose it's like ripping off a bandaid. That it'll become softer to talk about after you do it so many times.

“It’s not pretty.” you respond. 

“I’ve always thought you were really ugly. It’s hardly a difference for me.” 

“Lovely. In a world of boys, you really are a gentleman, Sukuna.” 

He grins, nursing the glass of lemonade in his hand. 

“To be a woman is to perform. Now, tell.” Sukuna responds.

The truth of the matter is that there’s nothing to tell. Because you didn’t do anything. 

“I got home from doing the interview and spent the entire week with Falco and Colt. I-I basically didn’t let them leave my side. Falco slept with me at night, Colt basically watched over me like a hawk.” 

It’s a crashing plate, worried eyes, and an embarrassingly debilitating loss. 

“And then Falco came into my room one day and told me that The Lucky One sold more vinyls than all of my other albums combined, in one week.” you state. 

“Non-fluff shit prevails. I’ve been telling you.” 

“I didn’t approve of that album being distributed as vinyl. For physical sales - at all. It wasn’t about the money or the records or- or any of that. And when Falco told me, I-” 

Sukuna looks over, at the lump in your throat. He knows the feeling too well - the sweaty skin, the heavy tongue, and slips his hand into yours at his side. 

“I broke his phone.” you state. 

“What?” 

“I took it from his hands and I smashed it. Then my own too. That’s partially why I never called you guys. I didn’t exactly memorize your numbers and I wasn’t in a position where I was going to just ask for them back.” you state. 

“Not like you would have called anyways.” Sukuna states.

“I only knew Mikasa was having an engagement party because she sent me a physical invitation. Only knew Marco died because of the news. I-I barely knew what any of them were doing when I was gone, still.”  

You bite your tongue, the tiniest metallic taste enveloping your mouth, as you pull the now warm, puffed up flesh away from your teeth. 

“I knew that if I came back, it would mean I would be sucked back into it. What’s your response going to be, hint at it with this song, come back like this and…I’d rather lock myself in my house then do that again. I love songwriting, but not enough to sacrifice my dignity. I enjoyed my career but it drained the life out of me.” 

Sukuna’s lip twitches. You choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“I took up different hobbies. Got a sewing machine, made sourdough from scratch, I even learned flower arranging. But, I could tell that I must have seemed like I was off my rocker or something. My parents and my brothers never really left my side, I could tell that they were always worrying about me, and-and I hated that because-”  

Sukuna stops you before you get too choked up, now standing in front of you, his back blocking the sight of you from any of the people milling around the courtyard. 

“I know that’s a shitty answer. That I should have been doing something worthwhile. But, but- I was fucking tired. I was done doing all this and I can’t exactly…be a functioning member of society or something. I can barely stand here without people giving me a second look or trying to get a discreet picture.” you whisper. 

“I just wanted to know. I’m not giving you shit for it.” he whispers. 

You frown. 

“You aren’t. But maybe you should.” 

You look over his shoulder, at Eren squishing Teddy’s cheeks with his fingers as Lana takes a picture of them - far too close to barely even get the two of them in it together. 

“He fought for me when I wasn’t even here anymore. I was moping in my house, breaking plates whenever I got frustrated, and he was still moving forward.” you murmur. 

Sukuna pauses. 

“Y/N. Don’t do that. I need you to be so careful with what the fuck you do after you leave here.” 

The sense of urgency in his voice catches you off guard. 

“What?” 

“Y/N. It won’t happen if you’re careless. You cannot wallow in your own pity about this, I need you to tread lightly, okay?” 

“What won’t happen?” 

Sukuna glares at you.

“You and him. You could spend years pointing fingers at each other, who didn’t do what. You won’t get him back if you stay there when he’s moved forward.” 

“I don’t want him.” you whisper. 

You barely believe it when it comes out of your mouth. 

“You disgust me, Y/N.” he states. 

“You’ve always had such a way with words.” 

“And you’ve always had a lack of critical thinking. Why wouldn’t you want him?” 

“Why would he want me?” 

“He just does. The same way you just do.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Fine. Be a fucking idiot for all I care. If you do ever knock some sense into that thick fucking skull of yours, just be careful. Eren knows that he has to prove he cares about you for you to come back to him. You need to know that he barely thinks he’s deserving of anything from you, so much so, that he won’t ever make the move.” 

Sukuna doesn’t mince his words. You wish he could have you through every important decision of your life just so you wouldn’t stumble and fall as much as you did. 

“Eren’s called the shots since you were fifteen. You’re going to have to call all the next ones. And for the love of god, really. I’m so tired of that fucking freeloader showing up whenever he pleases. And you look really ugly when you look sad, so just do it right please.”  

You smile. 

“Are you insinuating I’m pretty when I don’t look sad?” 

“I hope you fall off a bridge and never recover.” Sukuna responds. 

--

The sniffling cues Eren onto the fact that you’re crying. The air pressure of the plane is overwhelming in his ears, almost so loud that he misses it, but he counts himself lucky that you’ve always been an obscenely loud crier. He peeks his head over the division over your seats and reaches forward to poke your head. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks. 

You give him a meek nod. You know for a fact that he doesn’t believe it for one second. 

“Can I come over there for a second? I don’t want to talk from so far away.” Eren asks. 

“Isn’t that like…illegal? Two people in one seat.” you murmur. 

“This is first class, the seat is basically a bed. And there’s no laws in the air.” 

You frown. 

“Eren. Laws still exist in the air. They’re just local.” 

Eren smiles. 

“Well, aren’t you a little genius? Scooch over.” 

You shift on the seat, pulling your blanket closer to you as Eren very precariously makes his way over to your seat, the two of you almost cramped in the small space. It’s almost funny how there’s barely any room, your foreheads pressed together from the lack of space. 

“Hey.” he whispers. 

“Hi.” 

“What’s wrong, Margaret?” 

You shake your head. His hands are warm on your sides. 

“Come on. Tell me. I’m really good at fixing problems.” 

“I know.” 

Eren can’t place what the tone is in your voice - but it comes out all strained and raspy - that it rubs him the wrong way. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” you clarify. 

“Which way do you mean it?” Eren asks. 

You sigh. 

“I mean. You handled everything considerably well, even if it wasn’t easier for you. You…you waited until I was ready to hear it, until I asked to be told your side of the story. And you put it all together, wrapped in a perfect bow with that documentary, and then took me to see Lana and Sukuna too because you knew I’d want to.” you mumble. 

“Wrapped in a ribbon. Who the fuck calls it a bow?” 

You roll your eyes, earning you a laugh from Eren that’s so loud it makes you laugh too. You reach forward to clamp your fingers over his mouth, muffling the loud sound, as you shush him loudly. 

Eren pauses. 

“I’m glad it worked. And I had a lot of time to think. You don’t have as much, but…we’ll help you. With whatever you want to do.” Eren states. 

You give him a nod, unsatisfied with the answer. 

“What were you thinking?” Eren asks. 

You fish out the little slip of your pocket, nearly smushing your face into his in the process, and place the little paper in his hand. 

“This is…Satoru Gojo’s phone number?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah. I got it from Sukuna.” 

“For what purpose?” 

You pause. 

“I’m going to bury Scott Clarkson into the ground.” 

Eren’s caught off by the answer. 

“You’re what?” 

“What answer were you expecting?” 

“I’m not mad at it. I was just thinking more…I want to write music again. I’m not a quitter.” 

You frown. 

“I thought about that. But it hasn’t exactly worked for me like that. I even tried when I was at the beach but I came up with nothing. But that’s not relevant, I don’t need to write music to end him.” 

“I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s better that way. Using exactly what they tried to take away from you to get back at them.” Eren responds. 

You smile. 

“You’ll help me?” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear that I’d do anything for you. Even this. Especially this.” 

You smile. You reach forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard. 

“Thank you. And I get what you’re saying about the music, but it just isn’t happening, so we’ll have to think of something else.” 

“I have an idea. When we get back to set, okay? I think it’ll help.” Eren states. 

You nod. 

“Okay. I trust you.” you respond. 

The sentiment sends a shiver down Eren’s spine. 

“I don’t know how it’ll go. I can’t promise that it’ll work out the way we want it.” Eren clarifies. 

You smile. 

“I was trusting you to help me get back into songwriting, not into bringing him down. I’m talking about help into being…myself again.” 

Eren’s eyes flicker, down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. You almost swear that you imagined it. 

“Do you think I’m different?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” 

You pale. 

“Do you hate me for it?” you ask. 

Eren shakes his head. 

“I like you better like this.” he whispers.

Eren reaches forward, tucking the loose hairs back behind your ear, before his warm fingers are secured around the nape of your neck. He does it a second time, looks at your lips, and this time you swear the corners of his mouth are twitching too. 

“You weren’t very confident when I met you, almost like you didn’t think you were cut out to do this. Unsure of why you even had a place in the room. Then you went so far away from me, worked yourself so hard, that I barely remember you even smiling at any of us anymore. You were angry, then you were heartbroken, and apparently you broke a lot of plates when you weren’t with any of us?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I’m going to kill Falco.” 

“Colt.” Eren corrects. 

You scoff. 

“No way. Eren, he kind of hates you.” 

“Kind of? Colt was ready to punch me in the face when he first got to set. Rightfully so.” Eren responds. 

“It’s actually not rightfully so. He didn’t even know what you did.” you state. 

Eren pauses. 

“I know. He got here and asked me first thing what it was I did to you. Then he wanted to punch me in the face when I told him.” 

You shrug. You can tell that Eren’s waiting for an explanation - green eyes looking at you expectantly as you give him a nod. 

“It felt wrong to talk to him about it. Falco knew you a little bit better, but even for him…they would just start bad mouthing you just to make me feel good. But that would just make me feel worse because…I don’t get it. Hating someone just because things went wrong.”  

You crack your knuckles. 

“It’s like Ricky. I can badmouth him. He was horrible. He’s a bad person and he literally left me out there to rot just to embarrass me. He did it to Lana, to Teddy. You…I just thought you didn’t like me. I couldn’t really fault you for how you felt. And I loved you. I don't get off on talking shit about you when you were my entire world.” 

Eren smiles. 

“You had every right to badmouth me.” 

“But that’s the thing. I just didn’t want to. Even if things ended badly, you still made me really happy. We still did this entire thing together and-” 

“We’ll finish it together.” 

You smile, giving him a nod.

“You know when you’re in a relationship and you feel like you get to see a different side of that person? Because you’re so close?” Eren asks.

“Yeah.” 

“That’s how you came back to us. Feeling close again. A fresh slate, back to what drew us all to you in the first place. So many things in this industry, in this job are so fake. I mean our job is to literally pretend. You are an overwhelmingly genuine person. Even more so now. You are different. We’re all going to love you for it.” Eren states. 

For someone who’s so convinced he’s horrible with words, Eren always seems to have the perfect ones for you. 

“Will you leave if things go south?” you ask. 

“No.” 

“Then we can do this. I’m positive.” you state. 

“What makes you so sure?” 

You squeeze Eren's hand three times.

“I don’t have anything to lose, Eren.” 

--

When you get back to set the following morning, you don’t miss Connie very loudly whispering with Eren behind you. You’re positive Jean and Mikasa are eavesdropping just as much as you are, their eyes fixed a little too hard waiting for Eren’s response. 

Did you guys kiss?

No, Connie, am I crazy?  

It makes your heart sink a little bit, but you ignore it as Eren comes up at your side, giving you a bright smile. He reaches for the little glass jar to your left and gives you a wink before he calls for everyone’s attention. 

“First things first, Falco. Good job on press. That was one of the funniest fucking interviews I’ve seen in my life.” 

Falco laughs, as you turn your head to the side, pretending to do a little bow as everyone pats him on the back, and you look at Mikasa. 

“What did I miss?” 

Mikasa smiles, pulling up the video at your side. 

“Levi’s direction was to not answer any questions about you. Naturally, that was all they asked about so we all decided to coordinate our answers and basically say that we didn’t know you.” Mikasa states. 

“What?” 

“It sounds stupid, but it was so funny. Some of them started actually believing it. And Falco took it so far, he started pretending like he wasn’t even related to you.” 

Mikasa hands you the phone as you play the video, barely containing your laughter at how stupid the video is. Falco’s so confident in his words, so self-assured that it’s making Gabi burst out into laughter, and obviously messes with the interviewer so bad that they can’t even continue. 

It makes you happier than it should - their first experience being so overwhelmingly positive.

“And we all wore ribbons in our hair, which didn’t help matters anyway.” Mikasa states. 

“Levi’s a menace. He’s milking this so much.” you state. 

“That was actually my idea.” 

“Oh. I didn’t mean-” 

“I know. I just want you coming back to be a big deal. It’s not an easy thing for you to do. You’re going to get every bit of hype for it.” 

You smile, reaching forward to link arms with her, as Eren makes a booing sound. 

“Are you done? Can I talk now?” 

You shove Eren. 

“Stop being rude.” 

“I’m not being rude. You guys interrupted me.” 

“Why were you talking before us? That’s so inconsiderate of you.” Mikasa states. 

You laugh as Eren rolls his eyes, handing each of them a tiny white slip and a marker, before he takes his spot next to you and gives you a big smile. 

“Y/N is going to write a song. Multiple actually. I want you to write down ideas for her and she’s going to pull one out every morning and read it to us. Then she has to play whatever she came up with, even if it was only one line, at the end of that day.” Eren states. 

“Eren.” you start.

“No buts. You guys know the drill.” 

You watch as everyone follows his instructions, excitedly whispering to each other as their pens move, and you look over at Eren. He drops his own slip into the cup, the first one, with his name neatly looped on the outside as he gives you a smile. 

“I’m not going to be able to write anything.” you state. 

“Well, you heard the rules. You’ll have to write something.” 

“Eren.” 

He shakes his head, handing you his journal, opening it to the marked page as you flip through the sheets. 

“I did this a while back, when I was getting back into it. It helps a lot more than you think. And you can ask the person who gave you the slip for help if you really need it, but that person only.” 

You take the book for him, watching everyone give you excited smiles as the cup fills up just as fast, and flip though the pages. 

“write a song about me and sukuna” And underneath, the lyrics to a song called Daylight. 

“write a song about connie’s one year anniversary of being sober” with Levi’s distinct handwriting and the lyrics to a song called Forever Winter scribbled messily on the page. 

And the last one makes your throat bob in your chest. 

“write a song about y/n”

You read over the lyrics, pressing your fingers against the ink, as you fervently read the lyrics. 

We didn't know that we had it all But nobody warns you before the fall Don't leave, I just need a wake-up call

I'm facing the greatest The greatest loss of them all The culture is lit and I had a ball I guess I'm signing off after all

You look up at him, his attention drawn away as he shuffles the cup in his hand to mix up the slips and then holds the cup out to you. Everyone’s watching, waiting for you to pull a piece, as you set the book down, and give them all a meek nod. 

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, and an obscene amount of screaming from Connie and Sasha, as you close your eyes and pull out the first paper. You open up the little slip, floored by how random the request is. 

“Write a song about upstaging someone's wedding. Connie.” you state. 

A resounding smack fills the room - as you look over to find Jean hitting Connie. 

“I told you not to put that in.” Jean yells.

“What? It’s funny! Eren said random stuff helps with this.” Connie defends. 

“Dumbass. You just had to write something about ruining a wedding?” Jean grates. 

“Who the fuck said it was about you, you egomaniac?” Sasha asks, reaching forward to flick his forehead. 

“Who else is getting married, dumbass?” Jean responds. 

“Why are you so mad? You’re clearly projecting your own personal issues.” Connie states, as Jean and Sasha follow him out of the room, their shouts filling up the quiet air. 

Eren turns to you, a bright smile on his face. You want to smack him.

“I’ll see you tonight. Fully written song and all.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as he walks past. 

You groan, leaning your head on Mikasa’s shoulder, as you hand her the little slip. 

“Eren’s so fucking annoying sometimes. How am I supposed to write a song about this?” you complain. 

“You’ll think of something. You’re amazing.” Mikasa states. 

“I um…actually got you something. And I had something I wanted to ask.” 

You took Sukuna’s words seriously. And had every intention to make amends. 

“Really?” she asks. 

“Yeah. It’s a keychain.”

You pull it out, the little penguin charm hanging off the end, as she takes it into her hands. It makes your heart swell - the way she carefully turns it over in her fingers, the excited smile on her face. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” 

“It’s kind of stupid but…it’s blue? Like something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” you state. 

Mikasa’s smile gets wider, her shoulders relaxing as she reaches forward to give you a hug. 

“Thank you. I love it.” 

“It’s just a penguin.” you murmur. 

“Maybe to someone else. But I haven’t forgotten that we watched Happy Feet at midnight the day we were supposed to film the Colossal Titan reveal and almost missed shooting that day.” she states. 

You can barely contain your elation this time. That Mikasa remembers the memory just as well as you do. You both laugh for a second before you muster the courage to ask. 

“Listen. I want to ask something but I don’t want to overstep so know that you can say no.” you state. 

“Okay.” 

“I know that we have our own rooms, but I wanted to ask if you wanted to share again? Colt and Porco always snore and…and you have your entire life to share a room with Jean but only a few more months to share one with me?” you mumble, voice nearly shaking. 

Mikasa brings her hands to your shoulders, squeezing hard as she can barely contain your smile. 

“Really? You really want to share with me?” she asks. 

“Are you crazy? You’re like the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Bullshit.” 

“No, really. Falco kicks, Colt smells, Porco snores, and Eren’s nothing compared to you. You're like a princess compared to them.” 

Mikasa smiles. 

“Deal. Lets go switch the signs - to their rightful places - right now.” 

“What if Jean disagrees?” you ask. 

Mikasa rolls her eyes. 

“He can choke for all I care.” Mikasa states, linking her arm in with yours as you both pound up the stairs right to the hallway. 

You take the marker, scribbling out Mikasa and Jean’s names (and Connie’s comments underneath) as you hand her the marker to do the honors. You both admire the little sign together, arms wrapped around each other, as Eren, Connie, and Jean join you two. 

“What the fuck?” Jean asks. 

You smile at him. 

“Sorry. Not your room anymore.” you respond. 

“One could argue that it was never really yours in the first place, Jean.” Mikasa states. 

“Dude, you guys are so annoying.” Jean states. 

“Did you just call your fiance, dude?” Eren asks, earning him a shove from Jean. 

Connie comes up at Mikasa’s side, taking the marker from her hands, and adding his signature comment to finish off the new sign. You look over at him and smile, tugging him into your hug with Mikasa - as you all admire the door. 

Y/N-MIKA FOREVER!!! 

And underneath, Connie’s lopsided handwriting: 

WE’RE SOOO FUCKING BACK

--

You understand why everyone was crowding you and Eren when they thought you were going to kiss in season two. It’s because you got to set early to make sure you got a good seat for Falco and Gabi’s love confession - so excited that you could barely eat your lunch.

You can’t help but watch them a few feet away from you, nervously kicking their legs on their chairs, as your notebook lays forgotten in front of you.

There’s a group of shitty lyrics on the page, so embarrassing that you shut the page as Eren approaches and takes the seat next to you and Mikasa. 

“I wasn’t going to read them, silly goose.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as you tuck the book under your ankles. 

“Good. I’d kill you before you tried.” 

“Wow. Standing up weddings has you that mad?” 

“The opposite actually.” you state. 

Eren rolls his eyes as he scooches closer to you, halfheartedly shaking Levi’s hand as he passes. You look over to Falco and Gabi again - the two of them increasingly nervous, Gabi more so for some reason, as you lean over and whisper into Eren's ear.  

“Ten bucks this pushes their real love confession ten years into the future.” you state.  

“What?” 

“Think about it. We had to kiss and it pushed things back basically a year and a half because we got all flustered and confused. Falco’s doing a whole bit, they’re going to be nervous about this for years.” you state. 

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to elbow you in the side. 

“Bullshit.” 

“I’m right! The same thing happened with Hange and Levi.” you defends. 

“Rookie mistake, Y/N. Do I know your little brother better than you? He’s not half as pussy as you or Levi.” 

“Touché, asshole. If he likes her so bad, why hasn’t he said it yet?” you respond. 

“He’s a romantic. He’s waiting for the right time.” Eren responds. 

You look over at the two of them, splitting a box of Tic-Tacs, as Levi walks back to his cues and sets up the cameras. 

“Think about it. In a relationship, you’re either a Hange or a Levi. You’re either a Jean or a Mikasa. Falco’s obviously more like Mikasa and Levi. And Gabi’s like Jean and Hange. She has to make the move.” 

“You’ve got it all wrong. Gabi’s the Levi and Falco’s the Hange.” Eren responds, nearly offended at your statement. 

“Are you an idiot?” 

“Watch. I’ll prove it to you.” 

Eren pushes up off the floor, dragging Niccolo along with him, as they two of them approach Gabi and Falco. You’re not sure what they’re whispering - but you can tell that Falco and Gabi are flustered by the premise - and Eren and Niccolo are far too elated as Eren walks back over to you, this time with Niccolo in tow. 

“Hi Nico.” 

“Hi Y/N.” 

You look over at Eren, glaring at him, as he gives you a sheepish shrug. 

“Okay, guys. We’re going to start rolling. Falco, Gabi, you ready?” 

“Yeah.” they respond in unison, giving each other a little fist bump as they take their seats on the floor. 

“Was no one going to ask me? I’m in this scene too.” Colt complains, earning a fit of laughter from the crew. 

Everyone quiets down as the lights dim on the set, the group of you hunching forward, trying to contain your smiles as you look at each other. It’s only then that you’re reminded of how good Falco and Gabi are at acting, the painstaking agony in their voice almost making you shiver. 

“I helped make the attack on Liberio happen. I met a wounded soldier at that hospital, and without knowing it was Eren Jaeger, I sent letters from him to his allies using the mailboxes outside the zone.” Falco starts. 

Mikasa leans over to look at Eren, mouthing the words “fucking bastard” as you try to contain your laughs. Levi gives the four of you a warning glance, as you muster out an apologetic smile. 

“A lot of people died in Liberio. So….it’s my fault that Udo and Zofia died.” Falco finishes. 

“I see…” Gabi responds. 

Falco swallows hard, a pink blush on his cheeks, as you all excitedly smile. 

“Also, I love you. I didn’t want you to inherit the Armored Titan. That’s why I became a warrior candidate. So…so that we could get married…and be happy forever.” 

Gabi’s as red as a tomato. You almost feel bad for teasing the two of them so hard but it’s so endearing it makes your heart squeeze. 

“I wanted you to live a long life!” Falco shouts. 

“What are you saying?” Gabi responds. 

“I might turn into a Titan at any moment. I just wanted to get it all out there before I’m gone for good.” 

It's silent - leave for Gabi's tears before she quickly stands up. You watch as Gabi aggressively wrestles with Falco, pulling off the little black band secured around his waist, before she throws it on the ground, her chest heaving.

You sincerely hope Levi campaigns for them to win an award for this one. 

Levi calls cut, as Hange runs up to the two of them, excitedly cheering them both on as they avert their gaze from each other. Eren’s quick to jump up, grabbing you by the wrist as he pulls you up to the group of them, a devious smirk on his face. 

Niccolo’s quick to join his side, the two of them crossing their arms over their chest and smirking at Falco, as he sighs. 

“Really, guys?” Falco asks.

“Really. You agreed to it, little dude.” Eren states. 

Falco rolls his eyes, nervously eyeing Gabi - who is excitedly jumping up and down in front of a very unamused Levi - before he walks over to her and plants a big kiss on her cheek. The group of you all gasp, Gabi’s skin burning red, as Falco runs away, claiming he needs to go to the bathroom. 

Niccolo and Eren are fist bumping at your side and Eren’s turns to you, irritatingly positioned with his hands on his hips, as he smiles at you. 

“Told you so.” Eren states.

“What the hell did that prove?” 

“It’s simple. I asked Falco if he wanted to play a game of Truth or Dare. Then, I asked him to kiss his favorite person on the cast on the cheek after the scene was over. Told him to run right up to you and do it since I knew for a fact you’re his favorite.” 

“Eren, you little-” 

“Falco is most definitely the Hange or the Jean of the relationship. Would even go as far to argue that he might even be the boldest.” Eren states. 

You groan, the two of you walking past Gabi and Falco near the snack table, a sizable distance away from each other and nearly sweating in the presence of each other. You and Eren shoot them a thumbs up, and Eren continues to gloat all the way back to the house. 

--

At the end of the workday, Eren’s gathered everyone in the main room in a big crowd, doing nothing to help your nerves, as you give them all a smile and loop the guitar strap over your shoulder and sit on the bench. 

“Okay. Repeat the request, Y/N.” Eren guides, the group of them all giving you warm smiles. 

Mikasa and Sasha blow you a kiss, Porco and Connie with overenthusiastic thumbs up, and Eren’s smile pushing you on. 

“Right. The request was ‘write a song about standing up a wedding’ and it was from Connie.” you state. 

You swallow hard as you shut the book and place it under the bench and start strumming on the guitar to warm up. 

“Be nice to me guys. I called this one Speak Now.” 

I am not the kind of girl Who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion But you are not the kind of boy Who should be marrying the wrong girl

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, Connie and Mikasa clapping along with the sound as everyone else follows suit. You can feel your head pounding, your voice slightly shaking as you continue on and the guitar strings uncomfortably burning your fingers. 

I sneak in and see your friends And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel And she is yelling at a bridesmaid Somewhere back inside a room Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry 

Mikasa scoffs. 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” 

Everyone laughs, including you, as you shake your head and blow her a kiss before continuing. She makes the little gesture at you - like she’s catching the kiss in the air and tucking it into her pocket. You can feel Jean rolling his eyes at your side. 

Don't say yes, run away now I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door Don't wait, or say a single vow You need to hear me out And they said, "Speak now"

The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly, the excitement from the group of them making your heart soar, that block in your throat dissolve.

Sasha’s trapped Niccolo in her arms and has been aggressively swinging him around for the past minute, Porco and Gabi locking their fingers together to do a little swing dance, and Hange, Armin, and Eren bobbing their heads in unison at the side. 

The group of them all give you a deafening sound of applause when you finish, aggressive hugs and kisses being placed on your cheeks as they all applaud you - claiming your brilliance - as you feel your cheeks burn with excitement. 

Eren’s the last one to approach you, an almost too satisfied with himself smile on his face for the second time today, as you give him your most peachy smile. 

“Like it?” you ask.

“Loved it. You’ve still got it.” Eren states. 

“You know it.” 

“Can I give you one note?” Eren asks.

“Please.” 

“The last verse. You have to change it.” 

“What? Why?” you ask. 

“It’s a good repeat. But I’m more curious…did the guy from the song leave the altar for her?” 

You nod, giving him a smile, as you reach for the book, and gesture for him to sit next to you on the bench. You quickly jumble the lyrics onto the page, nearly misspelling half of the words, before you hand it to him for inspection. 

And you'll say, "Let's run away now" I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said, "Speak now"

"Always a sucker for a happy ending. It's perfect." Eren states.

He gives you a glimmering smile, making your heart skip a beat as his hand brushes against yours. Eren pulls out the little slip from earlier today, taping it right above the lyrics.

He gives you a last pinch of the cheek before pushing off the bench, leaving your entire body burning at his praise. 

“That’s my girl. I didn’t doubt you for even a second.”

You pause.

"Eren?"

He turns back, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Ask me who my favorite person on set is."

"What?"

"Ask me."

"Why would I-"

"Can you just do it?"

Eren turns back, hands at his side.

"Who's your favorite person on set?" Eren asks.

You walk up to his side, standing on your tip toes to press a kiss into the softness of his cheek. You hope that he understands - that you're overwhelmingly thankful for him. For the documentary, the days in Seattle, and the lifeline he always throws you. That you'll always be indebted to him.

"It's you." you whisper.

Eren's cheeks are pink.

"Is that right?" Eren asks, the tone in his voice teasing.

"Don't push your luck." you state.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Eren responds, as he gives you one last cheek pinch before leaving you alone with the piano.

Singing the song, strumming the guitar - it's almost like stretching an old muscle, flexing out the soreness. You're so excited that you reach for the cup on top of the piano to start writing the next one right away. But when your read the slip, you feel your mouth go dry.

you love someone with your entire being, and all they do is tolerate it

And at the bottom, a name scribbled in messy handwriting

Jean.

--

--

next part linked here

an: OK GUYS. WE'RE IN THE ENDGAME NOW!!! sorry its kind of boring but we die like men

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejgg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-morii @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv @cowgirlikets @dreamxiing @mamamammarga @tangerine-neonlight

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[deantfwinchester]

Hands

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader as usual (let's just assume these No-Outbreak Joels are all the same couple tbh), established relationship

Summary: Friday nights are reserved for sweatpants and relaxation, of course. But when Joel's work week leaves his hands a bit worse for wear, the night may need to include a break for a little extra attention.

Warnings: extreme fluff once again. expect it at this point. i'm a one-trick pony, i fear.

A/N: finally got around to putting one of my many bulleted notes-app idea fics into paragraph form again! Will we get another one before the year's out? It's anyone's guess! -_-

——————

Friday nights are your favorites. No dinner to cook or rattling rolodex of tasks to come in the next twelve hours give you both a little room to breathe — to gently unwind from yourselves and into one another. It’s typically quiet, and when it isn’t, the volume is born of laughter from games or stories the three of you share.

Joel comes home from an exceptionally long week. You know he’s been on site every day—the whole team has—working longer and longer hours to wrap up the latest project before the client’s deadline. You’re pleased to hear his keys rattle in the door not long after five o’clock, and relieved because the air’s rapidly cooling earlier each night. Daylight Savings time is coming to an end, and today he barely beat the sunset getting home. 

You know the hour means little, however, and are less than astonished at the weary grin he bears on catching sight of you and Sarah on the couch when he walks in the room. She’s already got her purse on her shoulder, eager to head out when her friends arrive, and she’s excitedly recounting the events of the trailer for the movie they’ll be catching tonight. He stands idly in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the two of you chat. You make brief eye contact and smile back, assuring you know he’s there. Neither of you wants to interrupt her avid storytelling.  

“Well don’t you sound excited?” he says when she pauses to catch her breath. You both turn to greet him, and he moves more quickly toward you as you attempt to rise, gesturing to you to remain seated. He’ll come to you both.

He plants a kiss on top of Sarah’s head before leaning down to kiss you as he does each night. You place a hand on his chest and pause when he pulls back to get a good look at his face. You see the fatigue in his droopy-eyed smile, but can’t say anything to him. You already know it’s mirrored in your own expression.

The doorbell rings before either of you can speak again, and Sarah jumps up to head out the door. You wish her a good night, and he follows her to the door, checking for a familiar parent in the driver’s seat and seeing her off. You see him hand her some cash to go with his reminder to make good decisions, and he hugs her. You can’t help but giggle when she takes it with a wide smile.

He turns to you laughing when he sees she’s in the car, and shuts the door.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed in confusion, but amused at the sound of your laughter.

“Smart girl. I gave her a 20 before you got home,” you grin back at him. He stills in understanding and rolls his eyes. 

“You couldn’t tell me that two minutes ago?” he asks you in mock exasperation.

“But it’s so much funnier this way!” you add, giggling again. You both know he’s wrapped completely around her finger, though she so innocently does not. It’s one of the first things you noticed about him. One of the first reasons you fell in love. 

He shakes his head fondly, and places a hand on his stomach, which begins to grumble softly at him. You raise your eyebrows and meet his gaze. “Any thoughts on dinner?” he asks, and you grin back at him in amusement.

“Handled. Pizza’s already on the way,” you respond and he feigns relief. 

“You’re brilliant.” he says, walking up and grabbing your hand on the back of the couch. You run your thumb in little circles on the back of his hand and give it a light squeeze.

“Duh. Now go get changed! It’s do-nothing time starting now,” you respond, patting the top of his hand in encouragement.

“You read my mind,” he says, leaning down for another quick peck before heading off into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. Naturally, you’ve been in sweats for over an hour now, shedding your own outfit immediately, peeling the school day from your skin. The unspoken uniform for these Friday nights is extremely specific.

The pizza arrives before Joel can even return from the bedroom in a feat of incredible timing. You’re gathering plates and filling glasses with ice when he emerges ready for the night. He moves forward to help you grab the dinner, but you shoo him away to the couch. 

“Nope, I got this. You sit,” you say, lightly shoving his chest away. You leave no room for argument. He grumbles a bit and raises his hands, backing away to the living room. You follow behind him with the pizza and plates, and return once more for the drinks before settling next to him on the couch. He sits on one end, and you sit in the middle, leaving little room between you.

You lean forward, putting pizza on one plate you pass to Joel before grabbing your own, then settle back against the cushion, both sinking in so comfortably a nearly audible sigh fills the room. The comfort in this relief is palpable, and the decompressing can begin. You grab the remote and put on the series you’ve been binging together recently, more for background noise than anything else. 

A few slices and sitcom episodes deep, you’ve set your plates down on the coffee table. With your bellies comfortably full, you’ve somehow slumped deeper, though Joel into the couch and you into his side. His arm is draped over the back of the couch behind you, and you’re nearly laying on him, head propped against his shoulder. 

You hold his free hand in both of yours and absently play with his fingers for a second when you notice the aggressive wear this week has lent his hands. They’re a raw, angry red at the knuckles; his nails are cracked in some places and peeling in others. Moving your fingers gently down toward his wrist, you focus more directly on the state of his, catching sight of a few hangnails and stretched cuticles that can’t be comfortable. He looks down as you begin to worry them beneath the soft pads of your own fingers, and you meet his gaze, brows furrowed as you look between his face and hands. 

“Keep doing that, please,” he says with a sigh before closing his eyes, “I wait all day to feel your hands on mine. They’re so soft.” He lifts your hand to his lips before pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. He loves the delicate, reverent way you play with his hands, like they’re small, fragile things in need of tender attention. You take his hand once again into both of yours and gently rub it between them, looking back up at him, concerned. 

“How do yours feel? They look like they’re hurting you,” you gnaw a bit at your bottom lip in thought, and he tries to assuage your worry.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Nothing worse than I’m used to,” he says. He knows from your deepening frown that you’re less than satisfied with this response.

You couldn’t care less if he’s used to it, he shouldn’t be. You know the protective callouses forged there don’t mean those hands are unfeeling in the slightest.

“Wait there. I’ll be right back,” you say, rising from his side and hastening to the bedroom. It’s his turn to frown now, both in confusion and at the sudden draft that’s appeared at his side.

You return not a minute later with a small tote around your wrist, and hands filled with half the manicure items you own. You sit down next to him and unpack, laying clippers, files, cuticle oil, and two different hand creams — a lotion he’s seen you use regularly, and a jar that must be a new addition — on the coffee table in front of you, along with the selected polishes and remover you had in the tote bag. You’ve been meaning to do your nails, anyway. 

Joel looks incredulously at you, unsure where this is going. Not that he’s a stranger to nail polish — he raised a little girl on his own long enough to have worn the rainbow on his fingers, but tonight? 

“Sorry, no color for you today, honey. Certainly not before these are healed,” you say. He’d chip half your handiwork away by Monday afternoon anyway the way he’s been working lately. Facing him, you cross your legs on the couch and smile, holding your hand out expectantly for his. He raises his eyebrows at you, but places his palm gently in your own. 

You grab the clippers and get to work on the hangnails first. Any peeling skin or cuticle right there at the nail you clip as gently as possible, making note of the reddened and slightly swollen areas at the base of his nail from which they protrude. Those will need careful attention at the end. He doesn’t squirm or react in any way, but you know they’re more sensitive than he’s letting on. 

Next, you clip back any breakages and unevenness in the nails themselves. You’d never find Joel Miller with dirty hands — he gets them clean as soon as he gets home, but all the scrubbing it takes to keep them that way takes its toll. A little trim at their length might help reduce the need for so much each day upon his return. 

After clipping, you grab his first hand again and rest it gently in the palm of your left while your right files steadily to even any rough edges left behind and prevent further injury. It won’t take much, but you’re sure to get them smooth so they won’t catch on anything or bother him later on. 

The cuticle oil is next. He looks at it questioningly, clearly a bit skeptical, only having seen it a few times when you or Sarah used it. He’s never ventured so far himself. While you brush it gently onto each of his nails, you explain its purpose. 

“This’ll just help your nails get a little stronger. It’ll get them hydrated a bit, keep ‘em  from peeling so much when your hands get dry. It’s kinda crazy how much better this stuff is for your nails than even water is. Water’ll make the peeling worse, actually. Weird, huh?”

He just nods along, listening to you, content to learn something new as always. Finger by finger, you massage the oil into his nail and nail bed. After the first round you go back through to massage again, both to make sure no oily feeling is left behind, and to prolong the rapidly concluding process. He could use the attention, anyway.

Finally, you pick up the jar he identified as a new addition: a canister of a hand repair cream labeled for “Healing of dry or cracked skin.”

“Never seen that one before,” he says, reading the label, “What d’ya need this for? Your hands are never dry! I think they’ve been soft every time I’ve held 'em since the day I met ya,” he smiles at you, and you bashfully brush off the compliment. 

“I don’t need it. I use the other one,” you say with finality, opening the jar and pulling the first of his hands into yours. You don’t grab a large dollop of the stuff. You don’t want him to feel a disconcerting weight, grease, or stickiness from this unfamiliar formula, so you get a little and begin. You add a bit more each time you reach a new spot on his knuckles, palms, wrists. 

You take your time, gently massaging into those roughened, tender hands far more than a simple healing salve. He understands why you have the jar now, looking at you knowingly, and you smile back. No words need be exchanged.

Once you’ve finished the last finger and the last stroke on his hands, you squeeze the one in your own, then pat it gently with your other, “There. Gotta feel better now, yeah?”

Joel stares at you like he just watched you reach up and place the moon in the sky, if for no reason other than to light his path. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Thank you sweetheart,” he says, squeezing your hand back and smiling reverently at you. You blush beneath his gaze and look away, unsure what to do with the admiration rolling off of him in waves. You lean back against the couch, file in hand as you start going at your own nails. 

“Good. Don’t let 'em go that long again, either. Where they start hurtin’ ya? Maybe we oughta make this a weekly thing. Manicure night? Been needing someone to do my right hand,” you grin, wiggling the corresponding fingers at him. He smiles back at you, then reaches over and pulls you toward his side, back to your original position laying against him, head resting once again on his shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says fondly into your hair, planting a kiss to your head in the process. You get comfortable once more, foregoing any plans to do your own nails tonight. You both know those “manicure nights” will be for him — and you’ve got Sarah to do your right hand already, when you do hers.

You grab the same free hand once again and admire your work, then lace your fingers between his own, and rest your twined hands on his leg. You’re satisfied knowing the hand behind you on the couch is comfortable now, healing from the week’s toils and melting into the comforting haze of the early autumn evening.

[callmewrinkles3]

Castles Crumbling - DR3 x Fem!OC

Summary: There's just four races to go until Em never has to be near McLaren again, but her anxiety isn't getting any better. With fractures growing in their friendships and people in the media talking, how could it? Not even a gift from her husband could help.

Words: 15.5k

Warnings: The 2022 F1 season, COTA 2022, mental health issues (anxiety, depression, social anxiety, issues with food, one instance of accidental self injury), Zak Brown opening his mouth, hospitals, mentions of assumed domestic abuse, medical staff, smut.

AN: Remember us? Yeah it's been a while, we know. But we're back! Tumblr is a mess right now and with this we decided to make it worse. Please, please heed the warnings here. This is probably the lowest point Em gets to, and it's not a good place. It’s a hard, complicated one. If it's not something you feel comfortable reading, that's alright. Stay safe out there. See you around. 🫰🏻

October 2022

Em had no idea why she was so nervous the day they got to Texas. There was absolutely no reason to be, they'd had some time off and it had been lovely. Her anxiety kept going up and making her stress which was the last thing she wanted. She was tucked in under Dan's arm, their friends were there, and they were in one of her favourite places in the world. Even if when Dan asked her what she wanted to do on their days off she'd said nothing. She didn't have the energy to do it.

The cancelled Russian GP felt like a miracle, giving them a full three weeks off instead of a week in London and one in Sochi. It was an oasis after the triple header of Spa, Zandvoort, and Monza. As soon as Dan finished media after the Monza curse kicked in they left the circuit. Like the year before they were holding hands, but this time it was anger and misery. He'd been on for points. Good points. And then the car just died under him. Fuck McLaren.

They'd gone straight to their favourite pizza place, getting a smile from the staff when Em ordered in Italian. Even the Tifosi in the restaurant chilled around them. There were nods and smiles, Em returning them when she could. It was there to the hotel for some sleep, and the next morning they had quick goodbyes to everyone before renting a car and driving up to Lake Como.

It was normal for them to have a getaway in Italy after races. It started with the beach trip after their first night together in Monaco, and 2019 was the nights in Milan after two impossible feeling races. But finally, after a quarantine year that cancelled their plans and then Em having to cancel them when Dan won. But finally they got to spend their time together. Dan had promised her that even if he won they were still going.

But the car gave up, so instead they said goodbye to Blake and Micahel for three days away. Em adored them, but she'd spent so much time with them that they weren't her usual safe places. Things with Michael still felt awkward, and time apart just felt right. The three days were spent alone, actually getting to wear their rings while they tanned, ate pizza and pasta, and spent hours making love on any surface they could.

The best part of the three weeks off wasn't sunny Italy, it was going to Perth. Dan had to be at the MTC for two days for sim duty before the double header so they went back to London, but as soon as they could they were on the direct flight from London to Perth to see family. It had only been two months since they'd seen Joe and Grace, but they hadn't seen the rest of the family since the super quick trip they'd made to Perth after they got back together.

All they wanted to do was hug the kids and be home. They just wanted to be uncle Danny and auntie Emmy. Even thought it was winter it was warmer than Em was used to. It was healing being back at the farm. Silence at night, family arriving in the late morning or early afternoons, it was perfect. Either they went to see people or people came back to see them at the farm for a full two weeks.

It helped Em's anxiety lessen, as did the regular therapy sessions. They had one on a Monday evening while Em was in Perth, set for a time where no matter where in the world she was she'd be able to make it. On race weeks she had one on Thursdays too. Plus seeing the constant smile on Dan's face while he was home. That put a smile on hers. If anyone deserved to be happy it was her Danny, and Em would do anything in her power to make sure he was.

The fun days ended all too soon, hugging everyone goodbye and promising to see them in Abu Dhabi for Isaac's birthday before they went back into the swing of things. Singapore and the race wasn't bad, Dan finishing with 10 points. But Japan was awful. Lando barely in front but the team acting like he was on the podium, and the weather and recovery vehicles. Dan had talked to her about Jules once before, about losing one of his best friends as a result of those conditions on that track. Her heart was in her throat as she watched Dan go around and round. It was another weekend watching the man she loved be disappointed at a track he adored, but at least they got to spend a week in London before Texas.

Once they got on the plane to head to the US, Em could feel the nerves building in her. It was different from the - high grade if she was honest - anxiety that she usually had most days. This time there was a reason. Dan was showing her the house he bought them that she still hadn't seen in person.

It had started from 2019 when she was tipsy and half asleep and whispered it while dozing in his arms that Austin would be a nice place to live. Since then he'd been searching, revealing it to her when they were in Montreal. The original plan was an apartment with a balcony and natural light, but getting that in the delivery radius of their favourite barbecue place was nearly impossible. And then between the pandemic and everything it turned into wanting so much more than a one bedroom apartment. Plus hiding it from the woman who he spent almost every waking moment with felt impossible.

He'd signed the papers when she was in Liverpool, a desperate dream that maybe Em would come back to him.

Telling himself it was an investment and worth it even when he wasn’t fully sure it was. He knew in his heart he’d never rent it out but he had to try something. It was a total lie. But then he flew down to Texas before landing in Miami to sign for the house. The original plan had been to show her when she arrived in Miami. Dan’s sick hope that she’d turn up. But then she didn’t and he just kept hoping until she was finally there.

They’d said they’d stop off on the way to Montana, fly an extra few hours so Em could see it. But she was too fragile and exhausted and trying to put her pieces together. Then it was the summer break but the news about losing his job put the kibosh on that. So finally they were in Austin and couldn’t be disturbed and Em was about to see their home.

October had felt like it would be a lifetime away then. It would be autumn and starting to get cooler. But then she was there and they’d landed in Texas, gone through immigration and were in the rental car on the way to their brand new home.

It was scarier than moving into their apartment in London had been. London had been quick, necessity thanks to living in an Airbnb and needing to find somewhere to pick together. There’d been two weeks thanks to Dan between viewing it and getting the keys. But they’d viewed it holding hands, decided what room would be what.

This was different. Dan had picked it out entirely on his own, she’d had no idea. And she’d known about it for five months, desperately wanting to see more than the photos. If Em was honest she’d half thought the photos weren’t right, the oh so normal suburban home with a little garage attached. But as Dan put the car into park in their driveway it hit her. This was their home.

A lot of the time they had similar tastes. Food, music, and clothes were the big ones, they’d match in a lot of ways. When it came to TV and movies and podcasts they had differences, but unless it was one of his UFC podcasts she was usually happy to watch what he wanted, the same way he’d watch what she put on. One of the things they almost always agreed with - except for LA but Em wasn’t going to have a discussion about how ridiculous a full mansion for himself was - was where they lived and how they decorated. They always liked the same places and were interested in the same things when it came to a home. If there was something weird or one of them didn’t like it, the other generally didn’t either. It was how it worked when they’d found the apartment in London, they’d walked in holding hands and just knew.

It’s how Em knew Dan had to have done a good job when he chose somewhere in Austin. If he liked it, she’d like it, and when the car stopped she knew she was right. Her expectations were that it’d be an apartment in a high rise building, but it was in front of a house. A little country style 1960s house, like the stereotypical one you’d see. It was nothing like the ridiculousness in LA or the farm in Perth. It wasn’t even like the place in Italy Dan was looking at for them to have as a wedding present. It was so normal.

A one family home on a suburban Texan street. A couple of houses had lawn signs out, there were kids bikes on the street. It felt idyllic as Em looked at the pale brickwork and dark door. It felt like somewhere they could relax and just be.

“I know we said an apartment, but when I saw here it was perfect. It feels like us.” Dan held up a key on a cowboy hat keychain, the Longhorns orange logo visible.

“I’m not complaining at all, it looks cute. Time to go inside?”

They walked up to the front door holding hands as a smile spread across Em’s face. She wanted to stop and take it all in, but her excitement was too much. She could stand out in the front yard later, right now was for going inside. All she could do was look up at Dan and how peaceful he finally looked. It had been literal years for him and she couldn’t be more grateful that he’d kept holding out hope for them.

Opening the front door of somewhere new was always exciting and this was no different. She slipped the key in the slot and twisted to feel the lock disengage. Em went to push the door open but before she could Dan lifted her into his arms, nudging the door with his knee.

“Dan, what?!”

“Gotta carry the bride over the threshold, right? It’s my job.” She laughed at the grin on his face as he brought them inside, carefully depositing Em back on her feet in the living room so she could fully take it in.

The room was a blank canvas. Wooden floors with lots of windows and light, white walls just waiting for paint and decoration. Somehow he’d gotten a Welcome Home sign put up in front of the fireplace. It was cosy but had enough space for them and friends to be there. The work and effort Dan had put in was making her tear up before she’d even seen anything else. Then when she did turn around and saw the lavender door she actually did shed a tear.

The one thing she’d wanted in life was to paint her front door lavender. She’d seen photos of colourful seaside towns with different brightly painted doors and decided she wanted hers to be lavender. It wasn’t from Friends, as much as people might think. She’d never been a fan of that show really. But there was no possibility she could do it as a kid, and then in her rented apartments it was never going to happen. But Dan had promised her that he’d do it, and he had just for her. She turned to hug him and held onto him until she could get herself together for a moment.

“I told you we’d have it, it was just a matter of time. I know we can’t have the outside in London, but I thought the inside in Austin would work?”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love it. I love you, Danny.” His arms tightened as she said it, a kiss pushed against Em’s head.

“Love you too. Wait until you see everything else, I think you’ll love it.”

Dan held her hand as they moved through the rest of the house. The kitchen was gorgeous and sitting out on the counter was a set of orange Le Creuset pans that matched the purple set they had in London. It was like her perfect kitchen was right in front of her. The doors to the back garden were there, a deck leading down to grass and it was carefully enclosed. It was safe and beautiful. She wandered outside and looked at the wildflowers growing at the end of it.

She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky. How did he love her even after everything? After everything she’d done, everything she’d nearly ruined? But Dan loved her with everything and he did all of this for her. It was a home, not just a house, and part of her hated that they wouldn’t really spend enough time of the year here. He’d given her everything, and she didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have him.

A quiet sob made her turn around in panic to see a smile on Dan’s face as tears streamed down his cheeks. Her arms wrapped around him, holding onto her husband as he cried. They were both too familiar with tears by this point, and her job was to hold onto him and love him and wait until he was able to speak. These were the overwhelming tears.

“I thought I might never see this place. Especially not with you. I was waiting until you were here to see it in person and I think I’d come to terms that it wasn’t going to happen.” The rawness of his words cut her deeply, Em kissing his jaw as a reminder she was here before she could speak.

“I’m right here, Baby. I’m here. And you’re here with me. We’re together.”

“I know. I know.” Dan kissed her so gently Em thought it could have been a dream until she opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Good…what do you mean you didn’t think you’d see it? You flew out to sign?” He squeezed her and Em knew no matter what he was about to say she was going to worry.

“I did. But I didn’t come here. I signed the contract and hired someone to keep an eye on it and do what I needed. But I couldn’t come here without you. It was for us.”

“You bought an entire house without seeing it?” The disbelief was clear in her voice. Her insane, brilliant, generous husband.

“It was a bad time, don’t judge me.” She never could. Not in a million years. “I wanted to do more things, y’know? I thought about changing the windows out for ones with bigger panels of glass so you have even more light to read, put some screens up so you can open them without bugs. Have some of the flowers out the front under the living room window. Maybe change the roof? The one there is fine but it’s gonna need replacing in a few years. Plus I wanna change the fireplace cause that’s original from the 70s when this was built and I don’t like the tiles. But not without you. Even looking at furniture to buy felt wrong. That’s what you do. You turn the places we live into homes without even thinking about it. Plus, I thought it could be like an anniversary present. Five years ago this week is when I met you for the first time.”

Em settled into Dan’s arms with her head pushed against his neck for an extra moment as she took in what he said. She’d so nearly blown their lives up in April - walked away without so much as a word. But even though she did that he loved her and still believed she’d come back somehow. How could she not be utterly in love with him? She didn’t deserve him but he loved her anyway.

“We turned them into homes. Us. Together. That’s what made them into homes, and it’s what’ll make this into one too. So thanks for waiting for me to do it.” It was a sweet kiss and wiping away the tear tracks from his cheeks as she smiled up at him. They’d turn it into one. She wouldn’t ruin yet another home for them. She couldn’t do that like she had with their first flat. “Show me everywhere else? Please? I wanna see our room.”

The rest of the house was just as perfect. A bathroom with a gloriously big bath for her and Dan to fit, two spare rooms, and finally the master bedroom. It wasn’t stupidly huge, but it was perfect. She could see all the flowers that Dan had gotten planted outside through the window. Em had no idea how he managed to get it done but he did and she’d be forever grateful for it. The other thing he did was get a proper mattress for each bedroom. It wasn’t a full bed yet, there weren’t even sheets, but she could actually lay down. As comfortable as the business class seats were, she just wanted to lie down and stretch. Her sneakers came off in a heartbeat and that was about as quickly as Dan was lying on top of her.

"You like it?" Dan whispered as if to not break a spell. His head was on her shoulder while his arms wrapped around her body to pull her as close as possible.

"The mattress? It's amazing, I wonder how I'm gonna get up again. The house is very nice too." She kissed his forehead while her smile grew even wider. "I love it. I really, really love it. It's absolutely perfect, Love. I still think you're insane, but thank you."

"I'm happy you like it. You know you never need to thank me."

"Really? Cause I think I know a way to thank you and bless this place together."

All Em needed was one kiss on her neck and feeling his grin against her skin to get going. Clothes were thrown off and left on the floor, and the luxury of not sharing a wall with anyone else was perfection. The loud moan as Dan finally entered her with one slow push echoed around the near empty room.

Usually on race weekends she was careful to not mark Dan's neck or scratch his back or shoulders. Usually she'd do her best to leave no marks at all unless it was a break but that day she couldn't care less. Her hands were all over his back and holding him as hard as possible. Part of her brain screamed at her that she was fucking everything up and she needed to stop, but Dan's frown as she went to let go and the way he squeezed her made her continue. If he was prepared for any comments and wanted her to keep going then she was going to.

At least now people knew that she was the one responsible for anything. She sucked a small dark mark against his collarbone, watching as the skin reddened and bloomed. She didn't care about it in the moment. The next day she probably would when his shirt moved the wrong way and everyone saw it but right then she couldn't care less. For once her head was quiet, focusing about how warm her Danny was against her, the way his hands made her feel so good. How he was hitting the perfect spots in her, the whispers of how good she was and how she was his best girl, his only girl. The marks he was leaving against her that screamed she was his. His, his, his.

When they finished it was like magic. Like every time he held her tight and kissed as they came down from their highs, the two of them keeping the other there. It was one of her favourite moments with him since that very first time they'd slept together. The world stopped for a few moments, silent and the only people who mattered were them. When she opened her eyes Dan was there, that smile that made her fall head over heels all those years ago on his face as he stole a kiss and made her smile against his lips.

Years ago the next thing in their routine had been one of them - usually Dan - asking to stay the night even when they shouldn't. That part of their routine was long gone. But the comfort and cosiness of the moment was ruined by Em's "oh shit!" and running to the bathroom, too afraid to mess up the brand new mattress that didn't even have sheets on it. The only thing there to clean up was Dan's shirt and she wasn't doing that to him.

When she came back feeling better Dan still kissed down her legs to make her giggle, Em looking at him smiling up at her. She ran her fingers through his curls as she looked down at the love of her life. How did she get so lucky? She didn't deserve him.

It took everything to get up from that mattress. She was jetlagged and tired and wanted to stay there and fall asleep beside him. She was comfortable and didn't want to leave. But they had things to do, shopping first on the list. If they were staying there for a night before moving to the team hotel they needed basic stuff. Dan insisted they didn't need sheets for the mattress, they had toilet paper and paper cups for their celebration and could get takeout. Even while Dan was trying to say nonsense Em was rolling her eyes and pulling clothes out of one of their cases to put on. She made Dan do the same, even as he insisted she looked better without clothes on.

"Do you really want me to go to Target naked, Love?" The wide eyes and rapidly shaking head was all that Em needed for him to get up and shimmy his jeans on.

For most couples a trip to the supermarket was a normal thing. But they weren't a normal couple, or at least not that normal. Usually groceries were delivered, and the occasional times they did something like this was during the winter break in Perth. They'd go some weekday morning when it was quiet and people didn't notice them. She loved it though. It was like going out with an excitable kid who looked at everything and kept stopping. She got to hold his hand and be normal for rare occasions.

So that afternoon it was a rare opportunity for Em to drag him around. It took a pout to convince him it was a good idea, but an oak milk latte from the Starbucks before they started shopping was all the extra incentive he needed to keep going. But as they started wandering Dan was the one who kept stopping and looking. He wanted the perfect glasses, Em got distracted looking at lipsticks for a new perfect pink. Then they spent time deciding on towels and bedding for not just their room but the spares too. After all that a coffee maker and mugs had to be bought, along with the matching plates and bowls. All of that, plus a lamp, cushions, a fake plant, fairy lights, candles, and groceries for that night and the morning that could be frozen when they were leaving ended up in the trunk of the rental car. Em couldn't stop grinning the entire drive back to their house.

London was a mix of things they'd had in both of their apartments, choosing what they preferred and putting them together with new things when they really needed them. Perth, Monaco, and LA were kind of like that, Em turning professionally interior decorated places into actual homes instead of places where they just spent time. But Austin was different. It was a blank canvass where she could start from scratch and turn it into colour and home and happiness. Even if this trip was just a few things to make it better she could take time and decide what they were going to do.

She barely got to put the sheets on the mattress before Dan was dragging her back down, covering her in kisses. It had been since the summer break when they felt like this, able to hold and love each other and Em able to shut her brain up enough to enjoy it. Thye spent the afternoon and evening moving from bed to couch and back again, ordering takeout from the restaurant Dan made sure they were near, before returning to loving each other. Dan held onto her as they fell asleep, Em content and cuddled in.

The next day was when they were supposed to move to the hotel but neither of them really wanted to. The boys landed and they met with them, checking in, but deciding to spend that night in their home before having to go back to the F1 circus. Instead they spent it with Michael and Blake, Em watching the three of them laughing and joking. It was easier to stay a little on the outside of it all and watch, Dan's hand around her waist as they sat in their favourite bar in Austin yet again eating barbecue and Em drinking a coke and stealing sips from Dan's one beer before the race weekend.

Getting out of their uber and being completely alone once the front door closed was a luxury for Em. They were always surrounded by people, she knew that. Dan loved having family and friends around, loved being with everyone. She'd known that since the beginning. It was one of the reasons - besides the obvious - why she was around the boys so much. Dan loved to bring his people around and Em loved watching him be happy and glowing no matter how loud it was. Usually she could put her earplugs in and smile and it was fine. But at the track and in offices and media centres it was more of the same. There were always people, Dan was always busy.

She'd known from the beginning that Dan wasn't always hers. She had to share the man she loved with the rest of the world. And she knew this, she married him knowing it, but it was hard sometimes. She'd gone in with eyes open that especially during race weeks it was a good week to have a couple of hours alone together. The only thing she asked was that they went to bed together. She'd stay up as long as she had to to do it with him. She always fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. Dan always woke her up with a kiss on her forehead if he had to get up before her as a quiet goodbye and a heads up she'd fully wake alone. It was what they did. So one extra night where they got to wake up completely alone felt nearly perfect.

But some nights, even when they were alone, she could tell Dan's head was somewhere else. This was one of those nights. They were curled up to sleep, arms around each other, but Em could see that his eyes were open and his jaw was tense. Even with the way the last few days were nice it wasn't an easy time. Everything seemed to be slowly crumbling around them. Apart from their relationship it seemed like so much was falling apart and it was impossible. She was doing everything she could to keep the man she loved going but Em didn't have much left to give. There were some things she couldn't fix. She couldn't magic up a seat in a team for him no matter how badly she wished she could do it. She couldn't even negotiate with him, because that wasn't her job. Doing it for the McLaren severance was different, that was for their pride and to prove that team hadn't ruined them. It was personal. But talking to other team principals? She couldn't.

The one thing she could do was reach up and push a kiss to his jaw, watching as he looked down at her with sad eyes. She could ask the questions and support him and love him and give him advice.

"Penny for them?" It was quiet until Dan took a deep breath.

"Should I talk to Haas? Guenther sent over a proposal. It's a seat for n-"

"Absolutely not." The vehemence that she came out with worried even her but she kept talking. "That team ruins people and makes them miserable, and as much as Guenther has been decent to me in the paddock they're run ridiculously. Look at what's happening to Mick, he told Mick last week that he might keep the seat but now you're being offered it? They won't listen to you, they won't care about the setup. They'll mess it up and blame you. They did it to Kevin and then begged him to go back. You deserve better than it."

"It might be the only way for me to have a seat next year."

"I'd rather we call it a day and just go home." Em was blinking back tears as Dan held her closer, watching as she got herself together. "I can't spend another year watching you suffer for a team and their stupid car while you're trying to smile. This year has been so hard, Danny. You deserve better than that. You're so much better than that."

"Do you really want that? Do you want to go home?" The words echoed around her head. Home. She still didn't know what it was. Dan was her home, but she couldn't say anywhere really was anymore. But her tears began to fall and she couldn't stop them.

"We lost too much this year, Danny. We lost a baby. We nearly lost us too. We did lose us for a while and we nearly didn't make it back. I don't have anything else to give it. This sport and this team has taken almost everything. It even took my dignity in Spa. We've given it everything. Baby I love you with my whole heart and you know I will do anything for you. You know that." She took a deep breath as she tried to get the courage to ask.

"I know, Baby girl. I know. And I love you just as much. We're us, that's not changing ever." His words and the warm arms around her made her able to say it.

"You can't ask me to watch you go through another year like this one. You can't do that to me. We can't go through another year like this and you know we can't. If we try it's going to break us. Please. If you love me just...please don't. Be a reserve driver or try something else or any other driving, I'd rather watch you do ovals. Please don't make me have to go through watching you suffer like this again."

She broke down after speaking, feeling Dan hold her even tighter than he had before. She'd never said it. She never wanted to tell him not to drive, she adored him and trusted him to do the right thing. But this was terrifying to watch. She didn't know what she could do except ask him not to drive for once.

"Hey Baby, I've got you. It's alright, Emmy. It's alright. It's going to be fine, Baby girl. I promise. You just take deep breaths. Breathe in with me Baby." She followed his exaggerated breathing until she'd calmed down from the panic attack she'd nearly worked herself into yet again. Her fucking brain. She needed to be calm for this.

"I'm so tired, Dan. I'm exhausted and I don't know if I can deal with another year at a team that won't respect you. This year was too much. I can't lose you again. Please don't make me lose you again."

"It won't happen, Emmy. I swear it's not going to. I'm gonna be right here."

"It happened twice."

And that was her fear. They'd basically lost each other last Christmas, and what should have been the final nail in the coffin was Melbourne. They shouldn't be together. They'd fought for so long, they'd promised each other. But she didn't know if she could fight for another year to try not lose him.

"That was different and you didn't lose me. I fucked up but we're right here. Remember that forever promise we made?" He kissed her ring finger, Em smiling through her tears.

"I almost did and it felt like I couldn't breathe. I can't go through it again. Call me selfish but I just can't."

"You're not selfish. You're the exact opposite of selfish, Babe." The pain in Dan's voice made Em feel even worse than she did saying it.

"I feel like I am. I know how much you love racing."

"But I love you more." He punctuated his words with a kiss before continuing. "I'm chasing loving racing again, and I've stopped loving it now. Maybe it's time to let it come back to me. If it works I can try get a seat in 2024. If not I've got you, and we can work it out from there. I can be a househusband. I was thinking about it, y'know? Maybe it's time for me to be a househusband, you get your year. I'll stay home, make breakfast, do laundry, all that. You deserve a year of not doing anything after taking care of everything I've thrown at you."

"You and I both know you'd go insane if you did that. It'd be fun for a week." A watery giggle escaped, Dan smiling at her ability to laugh.

"Maybe two? But it can be your year. I want you to be happy, not just following me around the world while I'm doing it."

"All I wanna do is be with you. I just...I want you to be my Danny for a while. I don't want to have to share you with the world for once. What I really need right now is to wake up on a weekend and not go anywhere. I want us to stay in our bed, not in a hotel unless we're on holiday. I hate myself for being this selfish and asking you, but I need this."

"A weekend in bed not going anywhere sounds really good right now." Dan kissed her nose, brushing the hair out of her face to make sure Em was looking at him. "I'm telling you, you're not selfish."

"I feel like I am. I feel like I'm making a decision for everyone. Michael's gonna need a new job, it's a mess."

"I was thinking about telling him I think it's better for our friendship to not work together so that'll be fine. Jack's looking for someone for F2 next year, that might work. But you're not making a decision for everyone, you're telling me how you feel. I told you before. If you asked I'd walk away. We deserve to be happy. You deserve that."

"I love you." She held onto him tightly, desperate to make it clear how much she loved him. She didn't deserve Daniel. Not at all. Somehow he loved her even though she'd made a mess of so much. "It's just one year. Then we can go back. You can keep racing till your forties if you want like Fernando. I don't care if you do."

"You really think I want to race that long? Two or three babies and racing around the world for twenty something weeks a year?"

"Seb is. For now." She wasn't looking forward to saying goodbye to someone who'd always been kind to her.

"Yeah, but I don't think I'll be able to do that after our kids start school. There's a difference between Switzerland and Perth."

"If you want to do it the option will be there. As long as you want to keep racing and you're happy you know I'll support you. We can work around anything else." Em snuggled into him at his words, at the knowledge. He wasn't lying. They'd be happy. She'd make herself be happy.

"We can talk about it then. But Toto and Christian have already been in contact about a reserve role. Christian rang before I even did the video. But I'm focusing on you and me first."

"Thank you," Em breathed out.

"For what?"

"For being you. I just wanna be your girl. I wanna be your girlfriend in public and nothing else. I...I need to be your girl for more than a week, not your assistant. I love my job and I love working but I need this. I need to not think about the fact that I share you with the world for a weekend. I know it's a lot to ask but I need that. Just one year. Can you give me a year?" She felt awful asking, but they were there together. She knew he wouldn't feel bad about her asking.

"With one condition."

"Anything you want."

"Marry me. I'll take a year off as long as you marry me."

"Did you hit your head or something? Want to do it again?"

"We said we were going to do it properly, right? I'd propose and we'd have a wedding with our family and that's what I want for us. A year off and we can plan our wedding. Go wherever we want for our honeymoon. No schedule, no fitting it into a two week gap and a honeymoon over the summer break. Just us and the people we care about. So marry me, Emmy?"

"Yeah. This sounds perfect." She kissed her husband, grinning against him as he held her left hand and kissed the perfect engagement ring he'd given her in August when she'd proposed in LA. Getting to do this their way was more important to them than revealing anything else. It felt right.

The next morning when Blake came over for breakfast before the three of them went to the hotel they spoke to him about their decision. It was easier than Em expected it to be, Blake agreeing with both of them entirely. Dan was burnt out, Em was a mess of a human, they were shadows of who they were just a year before. It made sense.

He didn't admit it, but Em knew Blake was exhausted too. He'd been carrying her and Dan for the last six months on his own, a year away from all of their travelling and chaos would be good for him too. They could recharge and focus and next year Blake could start putting feelers out about potential seats.

The other thing they agreed was Em was taking a leave of absence from work. She hated it. She hated feeling like she couldn't do her job. But she needed to look after herself and both of her boys agreed. As soon as Dan said it she knew he was right, nodding and hugging him. At least they got to tell Blake about planning the wedding, and the hug her big brother gave her was worth everything.

Once they got to the hotel it became the normal race weekend whirlwind. Dan was in media and strategy meetings while Em stayed in her hotel room, Criminal Minds on tv while she smiled at her ring and took down little notes about the wedding they wanted. Blake was there showing her the progress he'd made on hiring the horse for Dan's grand entrance to COTA the following day. Her idiot was actually attending press day on a horse. It was entirely Blake's fault for encouraging it months ago.

When Dan got back they facetimed his parents to give them the news, Em crying as Joe said he was happy to finally get to properly call her their daughter now. It was a good day. She was taking the good day.

The only downside to arriving to the circuit was firstly that she couldn't hold Dan's hand because of the horse, and secondly having to hide her engagement ring. She didn't want to take it off, but it was an unspoken agreement that they weren't telling anyone outside their people until after the season was over. They didn't want McLaren using it for media. She didn't want an instagram post from anyone who was firing her husband congratulating the happy couple. She didn't want that orange team involved in her personal life, so the announcement could wait. The nice part was getting to pet the horse Dan was riding. Before Bluey was saddled up she got to brush him down under his groom's careful eye, and afterwards she brushed him and gave him an apple as a treat. It felt like back in Montana, brushing the horses there and her anxiety disappearing for a gorgeous few moments.

Once that was done she didn't have much to do for the afternoon. Blake was officially taking over what she'd been doing, following Dan from meeting to meeting instead of Em. To avoid even more rumours and speculation she wandered the paddock every hour or so with her iPad in hand, chatting to people she knew and acting like it was normal.

It was a weird relief that not working was a help. She still had her therapy sessions with Mildred every Monday - plus a Thursday one before most race weeks - still had her every two weeks psychiatrist appointments to talk about her medication levels, but it felt like it wasn't working. She felt like she was jumping out of her skin, anxiety a constant in her head. A decent part of her wished she could stay in their hotel rooms on any given weekend, but she had to be there for Dan.

Her weekends were most comfortable when she went from the entrance to Dan's room and back again. Nobody bothered her in there, she hid away while her friends and husband were busy, and she felt awkward sitting in hospitality with people looking at her like she was a dead woman walking. So instead she lay along the massage table pinning things to a pinterest board to start wedding planning. Her plan was to show Dan what she liked and they could decide after.

Between taking notes about not wanting designated seats so it could be a mix of people and looking at flower options she dozed off where she lay. Sleep was at a premium for Em on race weekends, but having something nice to think about helped her doze.

She woke up to Dan's kisses against her forehead, not even opening her eyes but reaching out for Dan to squeeze her hand. It was a quick murmur that he'd be back soon, he just had one more meeting and then they could go. Before she knew it Dan was back, helping her stand and fixing her hair so she didn't look like she'd spent the last hour sleeping. They walked out of the paddock hand in hand, ready for the hotel and to curl up in bed together.

"I wish we could just stay in our house instead of here," Em whispered as she looked out the window to the city view in front of them. It was gorgeous, the room was luxurious. But she wanted their house with the mattress that they didn't even have a bed frame for yet. Dan stood behind her, Em resting her back against his front. She could relax and let her anxiety float away for the next few hours until they had to get up and do it the next day and the next and the next, before the brief reprieve before Mexico.

"Saturday night after Blake's birthday dinner? And next time we're here we can stay there full time."

"That sounds perfect."

Waking up on Friday morning was nearly impossible. The universe knew Em wasn't an early bird, but she felt absolutely drained. She didn't want to think about it, but something was wrong with her. She knew when it took Dan shaking her shoulder to wake her up. Usually kisses against her forehead would wake her but the last week or so it had been harder and harder to wake herself up and move more. The kisses were still there but not enough.

"Morning Baby, hey. Sleep well? I've been trying to wake you for a few minutes." Dan was smiling at her as she blinked blearily at him.

"Jetlag? Mornin'. Do we have five more minutes?"

"We're down to ten, but we've got time." He always woke her a little bit early before they actually had to get up. Usually it was fifteen minutes but she'd burned through that time already.

"Mmm, thank you."

It was quiet for a moment before Dan spoke again. "When's your next blood test for?"

She'd been getting them semi regularly since the first doctor's appointment when she came back, the realisation that her iron and calcium levels were low not helping her mental health. The supplements were helping, but the exhaustion remained.

"Before Christmas? I think?"

"Want me to make a doctor's appointment for after Mexico? I can call when they're open on Monday for you. You're sleeping a lot, I just wanna make sure your iron didn't drop or anything. You haven't really been eating much."

She'd been exhausted and barely eating. Part of it was just not being hungry, part of it was nothing was appetising. Even her usual foods that would always make her want to eat weren't it. Even the snack plates that she'd usually pick at weren't worth it.

"Yeah, ok. Just...don't tell Michael? I don't wanna hear about it from him. I don't want more supplement ideas and stuff."

"I won't even think about it."

She went to move to get up but didn't, too comfy there. "'m sorry 'm so tired. It's just been exhausting the last few weeks."

"We'll go home after Mexico and find out. Maybe you just need a med tweak. Or we can go see a doctor here. Go to a clinic, get an iron test to see if it's something to do with that?"

"Nah, we can wait till we're back. Extra naps will work?"

"You'll be all good, Love. I've got you."

Em didn't want to get out of the bed when she was warm, comfortable, and safe in bed with her husband. She didn't want to go to the paddock, and she definitely didn't want to sit in the orange decorated building while the rest of the team just waited for Dan to fail. Again.

But she didn't have a choice, so she got up and got dressed to go stand beside him. Her makeup hid the circles under her eyes, her hair was pulled back, and her outfit was perfect. She could do this. She could absolutely do this. Before they left the hotel room Dan gave her a hug and the sweetest kiss to make her smile.

They held hands for every second they could going through the paddock. All the way down to the car, on the drive in, and walking through the paddock. Dan held her hand proudly as they went in, getting her to go through the barrier first before following her in and taking her hand again.

Em didn't want to be at the track so early, especially when Dan wasn't even driving for FP1. Palou was in Dan's car for it as a rookie driver test, and while she had nothing against Alex she didn't want to watch him. She didn't care about motorsport. It had taken her years of trying to be interested but she didn't care. She cared about Dan driving and that was it. So instead she stayed in Dan's tiny room in hospitality, reading her kindle. The second the interviews and press conferences were done she switched the tv off and kept reading. Her friends were working and getting Dan ready for the rest of the day but she stayed there.

The nice part was that between chapters and looking at pinterest on her iPad for wedding ideas Dan would come upstairs for the briefest hug. He always came with tea and a smile, a quick kiss and a "miss you". He could go back knowing she was fine there.

"You need to go back to work, you're in the car in twenty minutes," Em told him as he dawdled going back downstairs once he was in his orange race suit.

"What if I don't wanna? I wanna stay here with you." She put her kindle away and stood up to take his hand, ready to go stand in the garage to watch him for the hour.

"I could kidnap you and we can go home? Nobody knows where our house is, we can hide there maybe?"

"Is it kidnapping if I'm your husband?"

"I mean not if you go willingly." Dan laughed and his loud honk made her smile. He was there with her and it was worth it.

"You gonna stay here or wanna come down to the garage with Blake?"

"Garage. You know I'm not gonna miss you in the car, no matter what."

"If you need anything just head out, ok? I'll find you after. Just tell Blake."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." She leaned up to kiss his cheek and watched as Dan smiled at her.

"I always worry. Same way you worry about me. It's what we do."

They were about to walk out when Em pulled him back for a moment, watching as Dan looked at her. "I know weekends at your room here used to be more fun and sexy and great. I...I'm sorry it's not like that anymore. Now it's just a mess and yeah. I wish it was like we used to be. I'm just boring now."

"Baby girl, we're married and in our thirties. We're supposed to be boring."

"I'm being serious."

"I know you are." She looked away but Dan's fingers cupped her chin, pulling her up to look at him. "Look at me Emmy. You are the smartest, funniest, most interesting person in the universe. You're my favourite person. You're my wife and I love you. I don't care if we just sit in silence doing nothing for a week. As long as I'm with you I'm happy and having fun. Nobody does it like us. right?"

"Right. And I love you too. Forever and always."

"And to the moon and to Saturn. Let's go and it's one more driving session to the end of the year."

She walked down holding his hand, kissing his helmet and telling him to go fast and be safe before taking her spot beside Blake. Her headphones went on and she stood there holding Blake's hand as they watched the time tick down.

The worst part of the sessions was having to hide her anxiety, the cameras flashing to her and her name appearing on TV. Emma Smyth, Daniel Ricciardo's partner. It still felt surreal that the world knew it. It was pure anxiety as she stood waiting, taking slow deep breaths as Blake squeezed her hand. It was one more hour until she could hide away again.

She hated seeing him in that car. She'd always trusted the cars he drove, always trusted the teams he had. But not anymore. And it was hard because she knew he didn't trust it either. She hated living with the feeling that he didn't trust the car to perform the same way lap after lap. The feeling kept growing in her chest until he was finally wheeled back in when practice ended. He sent her a wink as he got out of the car, Em's smile returning seeing him there safe. If he could have Dan would have given her a hug but he was immediately surrounded by engineers to give feedback to.

By the time Dan was free to leave the circuit it was nearly dark outside. The debriefing took time, and then he had to do partnership stuff that took longer than expected. For this time she decided to be brave and go into hospitality, sitting beside Blake. He kept her distracted by asking questions about things that he really didn't need to ask. For years they'd worked beside each other and it felt totally normal, and even now she wasn't working it felt normal and looked normal. She didn't know what she'd do without him.

Saturday was a day when she had to put her bravest face on because it was Blake's birthday. Despite another day of not wanting to leave the hotel room she got dressed and smiled, following Dan to their best friend's hotel room to give him a giant hug and the presents they'd gotten for him. Her big brother gave her a hug in return, a whispered thank you more than enough for her. She had to hold on for Blake's day. Had to.

She spent practice and qualifying in the garage, holding Blake's hand as usual when they watched Dan get into the car. It had been a happy week in one of their favourite cities, her rings hanging around her neck as she looked on. But instead she watched as the man she loved got out of the car frustrated after Q1, qualifying seventeenth. This stupid team and this stupid car and she had to keep herself together because she didn't want cameras on her.

Dan coming over to say sorry to Blake because he wanted to make his friend proud but didn't broke her heart. It was all Dan ever wanted to do, to make his wife, his friends, his family happy and proud of him. She knew he was aware of the sacrifices people had made to help him, and he was determined to make it worth it. But for nearly all of this two year stint at McLaren it hadn't worked. She'd watched him try. But yet again he was putting a brave face on and a fake smile about how he was going to make up places on Sunday.

She watched him blame himself yet again in front of the media and the world and Em wanted to whisk him away. She wanted to make it all better. He deserved more. She'd seen it with her own eyes, she'd been there when he'd won races. He'd never won them easily. All she wanted was to take him away from the stress and the constant criticism. But she couldn't.

As soon as they were finally alone - after Dan had done media and cooled down with Michael, finally entering his room where Em was waiting. Her arms went straight around him, holding tightly so he could know she was there.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I thought I could get into Q2 for Blake and for you. Make this weekend good for us." She looked up at Dan, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

"It's already a good weekend. You did everything you could, Baby. I don't blame you." Dan just held her tighter, doing everything to keep it together for a few more moments. But then he had to go back to the debrief while Em packed their stuff up. The hotel restaurant was booked for that evening for Blake's birthday. Just the four of them, a chill evening before some of Blake's friends from other teams went to a booking they had in a barbecue place after the race on Sunday. Part of her wished it was just the three of them, pushing that thought away from her head. She loved Michael. She did. He was just difficult to be around lately.

In a shocking turn of events Dan's debriefing didn't take as long as expected. But even with his performance there were fans there to ask for autographs and photos. Em soaked in the love everyone else had for him as he got to glow. Even with that delay they were in the hotel slightly earlier than expected and going straight to their room to get ready.

"We don't have time for a bath, right?" Dan asked, Em kissing his cheek.

"No Baby. We have to be downstairs in half an hour. You have time for a quick shower if you want one."

"Will you come with me? Please?"

It took nothing for Em to agree to go with him, walking into the bathroom and helping Dan to undress as she got her own clothes off. Dan set the shower up while Em stepped in, feeling his arms around her as he got under the showerhead too.

"Can we have a bath tomorrow when we go home?"

"That's the best plan I've heard all week."

Em wanted to spend more time than they had there, trying to get Dan to relax. But instead she carefully washed and conditioned his hair, giving them the love Dan didn't in a normal shower. He did the same for her hair, the apple scent of her shampoo filling the steamy room. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough but they were out, Dan pushing a kiss to the 3 tattoo on her wrist before he let her go.

Five minutes later Em was nearly ready, just running the hairdryer over her so the wet strands didn't dampen her clothes. Once it was mostly dry she was happy, taking Dan's hand to go back downstairs.

Blake and Michael had arrived before the two of them, Em catching the tail end of their whispered conversation with "-my night out, don't do that." all she could hear. As soon as they realised they were there the two men stepped apart as Blake greeted them.

She knew it was serious when Michael didn't make comments about what Dan should order thanks to his race weekend diet. It was even weirder when he didn't say anything about what Em should eat, or how much, or how she should avoid certain foods. She may have been exhausted but she knew it was Blake. The tail end of their conversation was the only evidence she needed to know he'd said something about keeping suggestions quiet.

Em hated to admit it, but it was glorious. She got to watch Dan eat an actual meal that he enjoyed and she was even hungry for the first time in a while. Finishing the whole plate was a challenge but she ate slowly, sipping her drink and putting her fork down when it was finished. The fond look on Dan's face was everything.

The three others at the table looked at her surprised when Em nodded and took a dessert menu. Michael wasn't having one and she didn't want Blake to have his birthday dessert alone. It was easy to pick a strawberry and apple crumble and ask for a second spoon. She ate it carefully in layers, smiling as Dan took a couple of spoonfuls of fruit and left the icecream for her. She ignored the looks Michael gave them as they shared, the plain green tea sat in front of him telling her everything she needed to know.

It was an early night by birthday celebration standards but with the race the next morning they didn't have a choice. It was a hug for Blake and a promise that tomorrow night would involve drinks and dancing and fun. She'd get through it for him, he deserved it.

As soon as the door to their hotel room closed and the latch went on their clothes disappeared to go to bed. The way Dan's arm had been around her waist was all Em needed to know that her husband needed her extra close that night. It was a quick trip to the bathroom to wash their faces and get themselves ready as Em pushed kisses across his face before dragging him to bed.

She really didn't think anything would happen between them, just holding each other and goodnight kisses. Dan had to get sleep before the race, but then his lips moved down her jaw and to her neck, one hand on her ass pulling her in as his knee slipped between her thighs. It was like a flame was lit in her, she needed her husband. She needed to feel him as close as possible. She needed to hear him whisper her name like a prayer, hands holding her tightly and leaving the fingertip bruises that sang she was his and nobody else's to the world. It was electric and everything she could have asked for, groaning Dan's name out as he begged her to tell him everything he made her feel.

Dan helped her up and helped her clean before she went back to bed with him, wrapped up in his arms to sleep. For once on a race night she was able to actually get asleep at a reasonable time, the lub-dub of Dan's heartbeat steady under her ear.

Getting up on race morning was the worst feeling. Em wished she could have stayed in bed. Staying there with a bottle of wine - even if she wasn't meant to be drinking because of her medication - hot water for her favourite tea, some snacks, the latest crappy romance series she was reading on her kindle, and maybe ice cream as she curled up beside Dan in bed would have been the best day. Instead she had to go to a paddock filled with people who wanted photos and autographs from Dan.

If she had her choice she'd stay back in the hotel with her favourite people but she couldn't. She had to make herself look presentable because cameras didn't lie, and she didn't need another "concerned" instagram commenter asking about if she was ok because of a photo where she didn't look perfect. Dan didn't care if her hair was a mess or if she wasn't wearing makeup or if she was in casual clothes, but the world did. So she forced herself up and prettied herself and was ready to leave. It took a deep breath as she held Dan's hand and walked out of the bubble of their hotel room. They were going to their house that night. She could make it work.

The entire drive to the circuit was cuddling under Dan's arm. Holding his hand on the backseat wasn't enough for her. She needed Dan to hold her until they got there and had to let go, and he never ever complained about it.

It was another morning of faking smiles in front of everyone, cameras recording and fans taking photos and calling Dan's name. She'd put her earplugs in before they even reached the circuit to block some of the noise but it didn't fully help. She focused on Dan's warm hand in hers and took deep breaths to keep herself calm. Em ignored the cameras and photographers watching them, instead looking at her husband and at Blake to remind herself she wasn't alone. She focused on Dan's fingers squeezing her hand. He'd promised not to let her go and he wouldn't.

Once she settled down in his driver's room he kissed her goodbye to go to the different race morning duties he had, making sure she was ok. Dan promised to see her as soon as he could and Em sat there and breathed deeply, earplugs replaced with her Beats to match Dan's and music playing. A couple more hours and they were out of there. Dan just had to go around the track and then they were free to go home. Back to their actual house to get changed and celebrate Blake, and go back to sleep on that mattress she'd already fallen in love with.

Dan came back up to get changed, Em standing up to go back to the garage with him. He'd taken the time to come up and give them enough time to see each other and make her feel better before facing the cameras. Usually he was surrounded by Blake and Michael before getting ready but this time it was just the two of them in a moment alone.

When he pulled his shirt off he took the necklace he was wearing off too, handing his rings over to Em to keep safe. She watched him get into the nomex and saw just how slim he was getting. Let the year end. Just let it end. As he stood and stretched he held out his right hand, Em taking it with her left. Just like they had in Baku and Montreal already this year they were going to the garage together. He was walking through the paddock holding her hand and not caring what the world thought. Reason one million why Em loved him.

"Ready to go?" She thought she'd hidden how she was feeling but it was clear from Dan's reaction that she hadn't really.

"You know, right?" Em whispered in response to avoid his question with the one she knew the answer to. They'd tattooed it to keep it front of mind.

"I know, Baby Girl. I love you too." Dan nodded and raised their joined hands to kiss her ring finger. Like always her wedding and engagement ring were on her necklace hiding below her shirt, Dan's joining them for safe keeping for the race. He'd be allowed wear it but that meant publicity and neither of them wanted that.

"Good. Go fast, be safe, and come back to me. Please." She nearly got it out without the final word but Em couldn't help herself, looking up at Dan and trying not to cry. Please be safe. Please come home. She was panicking more and more about what he did.

"I always will."

It was one final kiss and a long hug before they left the room. Blake was standing outside the door waiting for them, clearing a path through the crowd to get them into the garage and away from prying eyes and just where the tv cameras could catch her but nobody else. It was clear he didn't want to leave where she stood, but one nod from their best friend and Dan kissed her on the forehead and went to get into the car.

Em wished he never did.

Qualifying was bad, but finishing second to last was even worse. He'd been overtaken by nearly everyone he qualified ahead of, and he was forever behind a Haas. As much as she adored Mick Dan shouldn't have been down there with him. As soon as he was weighed he came straight to her, the two of them finding a corner to just be for a few moments before the real world had to intrude again. She knew Blake and Michael were making excuses but she didn't care, arms around Dan and holding him tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Emmy. I'm sorry I fucked up and disappointed you." The heartbreak in his voice was too easy to hear and she was so angry that he thought she could be disappointed in him.

"Hey, no. No, Danny. You can never disappoint me. Not ever. Not about a result in a race. I love you. I love my husband. I love my Danny. Fuck this entire circus, I care about you. Not cars on a track."

"I love you too. So fuckin' much. You don't know how much I do."

"I've a slight idea. You're gonna be ok. We're gonna be fine. Three to go."

"Three left. Yeah." He was quiet for a moment and she could feel him taking a deep breath in. "I don't wanna go to media."

"I'll pay the fine if you want. I offered to in Monaco. Whatever makes you happy." She nearly thought he'd take it, but instead she watched as he stood up and pressed his thumb against where he knew their rings hung on her necklace as if for good luck.

"I'll see you after? We can go and pick up our bags from the hotel before we go to dinner with everyone."

"Sounds like a plan, I'll pack up." She went to separate but took her necklace off, unthreading her thin gold wedding ring from the chain before putting it back on. Dan watched as she held it up before handing it over. "For your pinkie. I'm right there with you while you're doing it."

It took everything in her to let Dan leave and go in front of the media. She knew some of the reporters, knew the ones who'd be good to him and wouldn't ask awkward questions that left him with no hope for a good answer. They could leave soon and that was what mattered.

Her brain kept boiling over with revenge plots that she knew in her heart and soul she couldn't let happen. She couldn't destroy McLaren, as much as she wished she could. It would hurt more than help. So instead she focused on putting everything into backpacks. Usually it was done neatly, clothes folded and cables coiled up. This time she just put it all in as fast as she could. She wanted to be out of the room the moment Dan arrived up to say they were free. The TV in the corner was playing an interview with him, and the moment "I don't know how I'm continuing to continue on" came out of his mouth she was so angry. She needed to be out of the circuit.

Everything was nearly done when she heard it. The remote was in her right hand to switch the TV off when Zak Brown's face appeared on it talking about Dan's performance and how he wasn't performing. She knew but seeing him talk about personal problems made her want to scream.

Em remembered Dan's description of his anger that day in Baku when the photo of them was made public. The way everything took over because the woman he loved was hurt and he couldn't change it. He had to control himself because Em needed him. And that evening in Austin she felt the exact same way, but this time there was nobody else to stop her. Without a second thought her fist made contact with the metal door hiding her from the world, a sickening crunch heard as she made contact.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Em clutched her hand to her chest as she stared at the dent in the metal door of the drivers room. She hadn’t meant to do that. It was supposed to be a little hit just to get her frustration out. Instead she couldn’t bend her fingers and she wanted to cry.

The fucking race and Zak Brown opening his fucking mouth because he couldn’t stand that the attention wasn’t on McLaren for one damn weekend. But no he had to say the cost cap penalty wasn’t enough and talk shit about Dan and if it was his face or the door at least his face wouldn’t have hurt so much.

“Ems? You ok?” She looked up to see Blake walk into the room as concern spread across his face. “TimTam what happened?”

“Punched the door.” He moved her hand and she groaned while a tear fell. “Fuck that hurts.”

“I want Michael to look, I think you might have broken it.”

“I’ll be fine till we get to Mexico. I just need to get out of here. Please Blakey.”

She nearly got through to him and convinced him to stay quiet until the door opened and Dan and Michael arrived in.

“Emmy?”

“She punched the door, her hand’s swelling up and it’s already starting to bruise. I think she might—“

“Don’t say it. Just don’t.” She was hanging on by a thread. Someone actually saying it was broken would make her lose every moment of composure she had left.

“Let me take a look.” Dan held her waist as Michael got her to twist her wrist. Flexing her fingers was completely out of the question and even in the ten minutes since it happened it was clear that her hand was swelling quickly.

“Looks like a boxers fracture Wriggle, but you need an X-ray. It might be the finger beside it too. Hospital.”

“I can’t go to the hospital. If I get spotted? If someone realises I’m there? It’s more bad fucking publicity. I’ll be fine.” She rambled for another minute before Dan stopped her with a kiss.

“Give us a sec?” Blake and Michael left the room to let them be alone and Em looked up at Dan. “You need to go, Baby. You need to. I don’t want my wife getting any more injured. I’ll go with you and we’ll be in and out and it’ll be fine. But please. I need to make sure you’re ok.”

“Fine.”

She didn't know how they managed to get out of the circuit without attracting more attention but she would forever be happy about it. Blake found a hotel near their house and pulled up, Dan walking in with her wearing a Ric3 hat to try avoid attention. He had to fill in the paperwork because she couldn't balance the clipboard with her injured hand. Em grinned watching Dan put her married name on the sheet and marking himself as her husband. The hospital needed to know it.

The triage was miserable and she was called back with Dan, leaving Michael and Blake behind. They did the same tests before and then asked Dan to leave the room for a few moments to go out to the waiting area. Her anxiety was ratcheting up as he left after the confirmation that she'd broken a bone in her hand, the medical staff asking her exactly how it had happened and if she was protecting herself. She didn't understand why they were asking until it was too late and Em was left alone in a room with a doctor and nurse.

"You can tell us what's going on. We can protect you." Her exhausted and anxious brain didn't make the connection.

"Protect me from what? A door I won't see again because this was Dan's last race there for...possibly forever? I'm not going to punch it again. I just want to get fixed up and go home."

"Is home safe for you, Mrs Ricciardo?"

They didn't ask that. They didn't. They couldn't. Home was the only safe place she had left in the world. Whether it was the farm, the apartment in London or one of the ridiculous places they called home it was safe for her. Anywhere that wasn't another Hilton hotel room was safe. Lying down with her husband and feeling him hold her was the best thing she had going for her. That was what she needed, to curl up with Dan on their mattress and have him hold her and tell her it was going to be ok.

"Home is my safe place. I've got my home and my husband and my family. Why are you asking this? Where's my husband? Why did you make him leave?"

"We think it might be better for you to-" The soft voice of the nurse made her angry. They were trying to convince her that something was wrong and as little as Em believed in her brain right then she knew Dan was right. He was the glue holding her together.

"You don't know me. You don't know what's best for me. You have no idea. I want my husband. Please. I just want my Danny. why isn't he here?"

"Ma'am, we're just trying to protect you." Em shuffled back on the bed, away from the nurse who had medication in her hand.

"Are you not listening to me? There's nobody to protect me from! I told you already, I punched a door in COTA. My husband didn't do anything, I'm the one who made a stupid mistake. Go ask anyone out there or my therapist or my psychiatrist, my husband isn't a violent man. Danny wouldn't hurt a fly. Why aren't you listening to me? Isn't that supposed to be your job to listen?" The yelling in her head was getting even worse, she didn't want to be there. She wanted Danny and could feel the tears pricking against her eyelids as she shut her eyes. She just wanted Danny.

"Mrs Ricciardo, please. Let-"

"Don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me. I want my hand fixed, and if you think you're touching me you're only doing it in front of my husband or brother. I'm not doing it without them here."

She felt ridiculous. She was like a child throwing a tantrum but her head was screaming. She felt like her skin was on fire, the questions and insinuations about Dan making it even harder to think. Her broken hand was held against her chest as she brought her knees up, good arm wrapping around her legs.

The medical staff moved away from her and Em focused her breathing. She could do it. She'd be ok. If they didn't let her go she could run the second the door was open. She couldn't stay. The boys were outside and she knew they wouldn't leave her alone. They were just sitting outside and she could go out to them once the doctor was gone. All Em could do was try to hold herself together until she could go back outside.

-

When Dan came back out Blake could tell something was seriously wrong. His best mate was shaking his head, worry and fear spread across his features.

"DR?"

"They think I'm hurting her. They think I'm hurting Emmy. My Emmy? I...they think I broke her hand. The doctor all but wrestled me out of the room. She was crying and they made me leave. They might want to keep her in. I heard someone mention a psych consult for her room. B I can't. She can't." The guilt rushed through Blake's veins at the mention. They knew how fragile Em was. It was obvious that she'd barely made it through the weekend, they all knew that she was barely keeping herself together. But he thought Dan needed him more and left her alone and this had happened.

"It's gonna be ok. She's not staying here. It's not happening." He didn't know where the conviction came from but it did. "They came over and said they needed her insurance information. I have some stuff but you need all of it. Plus pay whatever they need before she comes out and you have to tell her whatever the treatment costs. I'll be here for when she comes back."

"Yeah. Yeah. Thanks. Both of you, I dunno what we'd do. She has to get out."

"She will. Go." He watched Dan be directed to a back office before sitting down and thinking who he could call. Who had the pull here? He wasn't sure.

"Maybe it's better she stays here. Em needs help. Travelling isn't helping. She can get better and Dan can focus on racing and after the season's over she can come back." Blake didn't believe what he'd heard.

"Take that back."

"We both know she's struggling. And you won't let me help her physically at least. Maybe this is a good thing." Michael sounded so sure and that felt like a kick in the teeth.

"We're in Texas. Austin's the good part of it but this state is dangerous for women. Add to that do you really think he'd focus? After how he was when she left. And the one person who calms her down is Dan. Why do you think I keep changing his schedule to give them five minutes?"

"But if she needs-"

"No. Just fucking no. You're fired." Dan had been considering it but after this? Once the season was up he was done. So done.

"Huh?"

"We'll talk about it later. But go back to the hotel. I don't know where we're staying tonight but just go. I don't want you anywhere near her. Not a fucking chance. Get out and stay away." Michael stood to leave as Dan came back, confused.

"What happened?"

"He's going back to the hotel. Remember we were talking about him leaving at the end of the year? I told him."

"But..." Blake didn't want to do it. Didn't want to shove another thing on his best mate's plate. He couldn't.

"He thinks Em might be better staying. He's worried about her too. I told him to go back to the hotel, it's stressful."

"If it was London or Perth I might say yes. She's been sleepy, she's been miserable. Getting out of bed is impossible. But not here, I can't leave her in the States. We just need to get to Abu Dhabi. We can get her there?" He was nearly begging and Blake nodded. Whatever it took he was getting them through the next four weeks. However he could.

"Mr Ricciardo?" An unfamiliar nurse came over and Blake stood at the same time Dan did. "Your wife needs painkillers and a cast. They want to get a psychiatrist down for her but there's nobody on call tonight. I'm assuming from what she said she has one?"

"Yeah. And a therapist. It's been helping but this year has been bad." Understatement of the fucking year as far as Blake was concerned.

"I'm a fan, I know what's happening. I've got an ortho to wrap her hand and get you both out but she won't let anyone in unless it's you or her brother? I don't want them seeing you there, is her brother here?"

"That's me." He watched her take in the clear differences between him and Em, the accents being the most prominent.

"Parent trapped or something? As long as she says you are that's what matters. Come back and we can get her out in ten."

"Deal." He followed her straight back, terrified to see how Em was when he got to the room.

-

Em was ready to fight anyone when she saw the door open, a new nurse walking in with an IV kit in her hand. But Blake was standing right behind her and Em thought she could breathe again.

"B?"

"Hey Timmy." He came straight over and took her right hand, squeezing once and it was like the crushing weight on her chest lifted slightly.

"Where's...I don't know where Dan is? A doctor took him out to ask him questions and they think he hurt me and they don't believe me? I told them. I told them what I did but they didn't believe me."

"It's ok Emmy, calm down. I'm right here, I told them it was you who hit the door. It's fine. Dan's fine, he's out there filling in forms and billing stuff so he asked me to come back to stay with you. You know what American hospitals are like." She started to calm until the bill hit her. This was going to be insane and he shouldn't have to pay it.

"No, no it's gonna be so exp-"

"You think that health insurance we have doesn't cover America? He just has to give details. As soon as you came on full time he added you to the health insurance. It's all good."

"Thanks Blakey."

"Any time, Timtam. But you need to let the nurse do it, ok? It's just a painkiller so they can set your cast. There's a new doctor who isn't a dick outside. But they can't do it unless you've got fluids and a painkiller cause it'll hurt."

"I dunno what I can take with my medication. I don't want to feel fuzzy." Tears of frustration were there about to fall. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to go back to when she didn't need to talk because Dan knew what she meant. It was too much.

"Do you trust me?"

"You know I do." It was the honest truth. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone, even herself.

"Then let her give you this so you can get fixed up and we can go home. It's all good."

The only reason she agreed was because Blake asked her. He was safe. He was always safe. He was the reason she came back in the end, the reason she agreed to go to Monaco and see Dan again. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and she knew that. So she took a deep breath and squeezed his good hand as the needle went into her elbow, the nurse showing her the bag of saline and the bottle of IV paracetamol before it was hooked up.

Blake held her while they went through everything, a thick white cast wrapped around her hand feeling heavy as she sat there. He kept telling her how brave she was and how good she was doing while Em just sat looked at the floor. Once she was ready to leave he helped her up and put his hoodie around her, the nurse smiling and wishing her well.

If Blake didn't have an arm around her shoulders she would have fallen when she saw Dan outside. His eyes were red, face in a frown and he just looked defeated. He hadn't looked like that since they'd gotten the call that his contract was being ended. Her husband sat in an empty corner of the hospital waiting room with a cap on trying to be unnoticed, totally lost in his thoughts. It wasn't until Blake called him that he realised they were there, standing up and arms immediately going around her. Em felt like she could finally, finally breathe again.

"Can we go home? Please?" She whispered against his chest. The terror that someone would hear and not let her leave was all encompassing.

"Let's get out of here. I finished all the paperwork, they said you were just finishing up. We're all good, let's go home."

"Can we stop for pizza? I want cheese pizza and they said I need to eat." Dan had his arm around her directing her out, agreeing that they'd stop. "Wait. Where's Michael?"

"He went back to the hotel to pack, it's all good. Let's head." Blake led the way to the car so they could finally leave. Em slid into the back seat, Dan across from her and holding her hand.

She didn't remember much of the drive back to the house. She knew they stopped for pizza, Blake getting back in the car with boxes. There was a conversation about what the official story would be, how they'd tell people she'd broken her hand. Honestly she didn't care. She didn't want to give a shit about telling people what she was doing or how she'd been hurt but she didn't have a choice in that anymore. The world got to know everything about her.

When they made it inside Dan brought her to their room, helping her get her jeans and bra off and instead putting on cosy pjs. Blake had seen her in worse, this didn't matter to her. Instead he brought her back to the kitchen where Blake had shared their food out.

She made herself eat two slices and it was enough, after that Em curled into Dan and held onto him so tightly she thought she'd burst. The painkillers had dulled her hand to a throb and she just wanted to sleep. There was talk of moving a flight and sorting stuff and she didn't care. She just wanted to sleep.

But there was a voice in the back of her head getting louder and louder. Dan wiped her face down with micellar water and helped her into bed, pulling her close once he'd stripped down. Her ring was still on his pinkie and it made her smile.

But she'd tied him down to a crazy wife who couldn't keep her shit together. She'd given him the option in Montreal. Chloe had told her about a walk up Mont Royale where you could see the city laid out beneath you. She'd said it to Dan then, that he could leave. She wouldn't blame him for leaving then. He could go and be happy and find someone who deserved him.

He didn't sign up for a girlfriend with mental health problems. Who was having a breakdown and ruining their lives. Who had days where speaking was too much for her, the words wouldn't come.

It had happened since she was a kid. Maybe not exactly like this but she'd always had to find coping mechanisms and now it didn't work. It wasn't her fault as a kid when her parents wouldn't help her and when she was in uni and couldn't afford anything apart from the six sessions from her uni gave her of therapy. But it definitely wasn't Dan's responsibility.

He deserved to be happy, he deserved to be with someone who loved him and wanted him to take a reserve role or the job with Haas. He deserved a happy wife and life and a family that she didn't know if she could give him. She didn't know if her anxiety would ruin them. It was so much.

So she was going to tell him he could leave. He deserved the world and maybe she wasn't the one to give it to him. She couldn't pull him out of drowning and she'd pull him down with her. She was going to ruin him and his reputation and his life, and she couldn't do that to him. She couldn't hurt him the way her mental health had hurt her. Anyone in their right mind would have walked away from her by then, but with the stress no wonder Dan didn't. Everyone else had left. Her parents, her extended family, her friends, her boyfriend. But Dan had been emotional and she'd proposed to him and it was so wrong. She'd basically forced him into it. It was a stupid, stupid decision and she'd ruined his life by doing it. So she was letting him go for his own good. He'd be happy to.

"Baby? Emmy you're crying. Do you need more painkillers? What's going on?" She hadn't realised she was crying. She didn't even mean to. Em took a deep breath before saying the words that were going to ruin her.

"I won't blame you. Y'know. If you want to leave. We've only been married for nine weeks, you can leave. No fault divorce, we leave with what we came in with. I don't want anything. You deserve better than a broken wife who can't keep herself together. I don't want to hold you back. I don't want anything. I can go."

The room was silent and Em could feel her heart break the longer the silence went on. It was over. Married for nine weeks to the love of her life and she had just ended it. In the same room he'd proposed to her so they could get married properly less than a week ago. How had she said yes then? She went to move out of the bed but Dan's iron grip kept hold of her.

"Don't ever say that. Never. Never ever. You are the only woman I want in my life. You're not broken, Emmy. You are here and whole and alive and beside me. I can't lose you. Please don't ask me that. Please don't ask me to leave you because I can't. I'd walk away from all of this before I lose you. You're my wife, Emmy. I promised I love you. I'm not leaving."

"You're not leaving?"

"No. I'm not going anywhere. Never. The day I got to put that ring on your finger was the best day of my life. I love you. The same way you love all of me for some reason. We're gonna fly to Mexico in a few days and we're gonna make you feel better. It's gonna take time, but we're going to be here. It's going to work. I promise. Come and sleep, Love. I'm not going anywhere."

Em curled into him, pushing a kiss against his chest. Sleep didn't come easily to her, but the noise of Dan's heartbeat and the warmth of him against her let her finally sleep.

@dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav @neiich @luckyladycreator2 @scotlynaurora @belledawnidk

[adorethedistance]

First I Love You - Jamie Drysdale x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety, sexual references.

Words: 1677

Summary: First I Love You - After a day that gets increasingly worse, Jamie plans a date night to indirectly celebrate your two-month anniversary.

A/n: Cherry is back with a fic after a month of radio silence in typical aodre the distance fashion lol. Anyway! This has been in my drafts forever and I hate it, I can't proof it due to writer's block, and I'm honestly just done staring at it so here ya go!

You can read part 1 of the series of firsts here. The next and final first on the list is first time which is of course gonna be a lil smutty. I might write some Trevor pieces in the interim just depending how I'm feeling.

Today is just one of those days. My class ran much longer than usual and I had to stay after to ask my professor questions before the midterm that night, then I didn’t have time to make myself lunch so I grabbed the pizza rolls from my freezer to heat up at work, then I burned the pizza rolls beyond consumption and did not have any back up food, then I was starving and stressed and unable to use my time at work to study for the exam. I was crying in a puddle of stress and tears. And Jamie didn’t miss a beat. 

Upon hearing how horrible my morning and afternoon had been, he ordered my usual meal from In-N-Out and brought it to me at work so I wouldn’t starve. Then, he offered to make me dinner after I finished my midterm and I tearfully and appreciatively accepted. These little actions of consideration are what have made me fall deeper and deeper in love with Jamie. 

We reached our two months anniversary today but I didn’t make a big deal about it. I feel weird about potentially being one of those couples that celebrates every tiny little milestone like it’s the biggest thing in the world. Still neither of us have said “I love you” yet. But if Jamie continues caring for and about me like this, I’m not sure much longer I can hold it in. That’s why I decided I would tell him tonight.

After cooking dinner for the two of us, and pouring a congratulatory glass of wine to celebrate the 95 I got on my midterm, we laid down on the couch together. Happy and fed, I rest my head on the expanse of his broad chest. Jamie presses a kiss into my hair, bringing his left arm to drape over my shoulders.

“God, 2 months already?!” Trevor asks Jamie incredulously, making me roll my eyes at the playful jab.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Zegras.”

“You’re just mad cause you can’t pull.” Jamie’s accusation makes me laugh at the offended look on Trevor’s face. 

“Don’t get it twisted, I can pull.”

“You just can’t get them to stay?” I ask innocently, absentmindedly messing with Jamie’s fingers. Jamie laughs heartily. He interlaces his with mine to give my hand a gentle squeeze. “But to answer your original question, yes, it’s been 2 months already.” 

The scruff of my boyfriend’s 5 o’clock shadow brushes the back of my hand as he kisses the flat part of my knuckle. Trevor, observing the entire action, leans over the kitchen trashcan and pretends to throw up. Jamie merely laughs and I roll my eyes once more, “Shut the fuck up! You are so dramatic.”

“And for what?” Jamie chimes in which makes me smile to see he’s been picking up some of my mannerisms and phrases as well. That’s been my favorite part of dating him so far. The way his music taste slowly infiltrates mine. The way he now keeps a trashbag in his car after realizing how useful the one in mine is. The way he’s wearing the soft blue hoodie he lent me, for the reason that it now smells like me, which is why I had stolen it from him in the first place.

“I’m happy for you guys, really,” Trevor grabs his car keys from off the granite kitchen counter, “Thank you for rubbing salt into the open wound.”

“Oh my god-” Jamie starts.

“Get out of here!” I finish for him, urging Trevor to leave. 

“I’m gone!” He obliges. Then, Jamie kisses my head again, prompting me to sit up. 

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Mmm… no, actually. If I had to guess, he’s probably going golfing with the guys.”

“No way, he was dressed way too nice for golf…” I trail off, racking my brain for where he could have possibly been headed. Shrugging off the idea, I straddle Jamie’s hips, and look down at him. I smile. Overcome with the warm sensation of staring at my boyfriend. Jamie nudges me with his hips, indicating he would like me to lay back down. Before I comply, I pull my hair back tying it out of the way so I’m free to kiss Jamie as much as I please. He watches my every move, eyes flooded with adoration.

“At practice this morning, McT said he…” Jamie trails off mid sentence. As he was talking, I finished tying my hair back and then leaned down as he had wanted me to. He’s looking at me with eyes slightly widened and lips parted in surprise. 

“What?” I ask, concerned as to why Jamie stopped talking. He simply says,

“You’re really pretty.” The seemingly arbitrary declaration makes me laugh but does nothing to aid my confusion.

“Okay?”

“You’re just so pretty I think I short-circuited.” The earnest confession makes me smile and giggle, so I press a soft kiss to Jamie’s lips.

“You’re cute. So what did Mason say?”

“Oh yeah, he said that he wants to meet you.”

“Really?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over Jamie’s cheekbone. He kisses my palm before responding,

“Despite how much you and Trevor bully each other, he’s told everyone on the team about how cool you are. He kinda took the liberty to do it himself since I do gush about you, but I get shy about it.” Jamie is uncharacteristically speaking out loud his stream of consciousness, and I take a back seat to admire how talkative he can be when he’s with me. A stark contrast to the shy, almost silent boy I’d had my first date with. Noticing how much he’s talking, Jamie ends his rambling but I smile softly, encouragingly,

“It’s unfortunate that the ‘cool girl’ is seemingly the only archetype that consistently receives approval from men, but it is true nonetheless.”

“Yeah, like, it’s not that I need his approval, but it is nice when your boys like your girlfriend… Well, it’s what you said, you just said it better. I’m mansplaining aren’t I?” He asks, bashfully. I roll my eyes and appreciatively kiss his lips once more.

“Get out of your head, Drysdale. Do you have anxiety?” 

“Shut up. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who can always tell when I’m overthinking.”

“Maybe I’m just the only one with the audacity to comment on it,” I playfully propose, smiling when I succeed in making Jamie laugh. 

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll agree to disagree. It’s unlikely, but not impossible.” Dropping the bit, Jamie and I smile at each other, melting into a comfortable silence. He looks at me with soft eyes, pink blush creeping across his cheeks the longer I continue to stare. I rest my left hand on the side of his face once more. I brush my thumb over his cheekbone again, and rub the top of my fingers repeatedly against the stubble adorning his jaw. Jamie lifts his eye brows before saying,

“What, do I need to shave?”

“No. I just like the way it feels.”

“Oh, hey, you said you’re done with school by mid december, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“My mom asked if you were coming to Christmas this year.”

“Did she really?” Jamie hesitates a moment before his brows furrow in sincere disapproval.

“You’ve been my girlfriend for two months now. She will not shut up about meeting you.”

“What? Why?” He then blushes fiercely and cowers his head into the large hoodie he’s slouched on. Jamie doesn’t meet my gaze as he talks,

“I told her all about you the other day.” I bite back the giant smile that prods at my features before replying,

“What did you tell her?”

“Just stuff about you!”

“What stuff about me?!”

“I told her you’re a student and what you’re studying. I told her where you’re from and what your family is like. And I told her about how I stare at you between red lights when we’re going somewhere.” The last piece of information makes me laugh and I tilt my head in confusion.

“How did that last part come up?” It was a simple question, really. One that I hadn’t even bothered to put a lot of thought into; one that came from my basic stream of consciousness. And certainly not one that I imagined would ellicit such a reaction from Jamie. His eyes widened and softened all at once, his blush glowing brighter across his cheeks, and his lips parting to allow the irregular pace of breathing he had now adopted.

“I guess… I called her because I was unsure of what I was feeling…? I was kinda freaking out about it. As I told her about our first date, she said that just talking about you made me visibly happier. She noticed that, even though I wasn’t aware of how happy I’d gotten. Then she demanded to meet you as soon as possible…” Jamie sheepishly looks up at me after finishing his mini monologue. The traces of endeared happiness immediately vanish and Jamie looks at me horrified. In describing how happy I make this boy, I felt tears welling up on my lashes, relieved to be experiencing something so thoroughly mutual.

“Oh my god, please don’t cry I’m sorry!” I laugh through the tears and playfully smack his chest.

“Jamie…”

“You make me really happy, Y/n. Like, really really happy-”

“I love you,” I blurt out. I’m a bit stunned and honestly scared of how quickly this confession escaped me. But I know it’s true. And isn’t that the scariest part?

“I love you too.”

“Really?” I ask through unrelenting tears.

“Yes,” Jamie rests his hands on the tops of my hip bones, “I kind of lied by saying my mom said I looked happy… She said I looked very in love, but I didn’t want to be too forward and say that if you maybe didn’t feel the same way.”

“Bro, you worry so much, are you sure you don’t have anxiety?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

***

a/n: copy pasting tags is the best thing that has ever happened to fic writers I think.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I(22f) broke up with my autistic boyfriend(24m).

We normally spend a lot of time together, because he gets upset when he can't see me. But I texted him the other day and told him I wanted to have dinner with my friend instead of coming over to his house that night*. He was PISSED. He called me and said I should know he has a routine and that it really upsets him when his routine is broken. He called me a bitch for leaving him all alone, and a bad girlfriend for not being considerate enough of his routine. I just really wanted to see my friend and eat food I don't normally get to eat(I'm not supposed to eat things he doesn't like because I'll smell like it). He asked me if I could at least come over after, and I said we were going to a pizza place and he doesn't like the smell of marinara so I probably shouldn't unless he thought he could deal with it as long as I came over. He told me to eat somewhere else. I said I didn't want to, and he got really mad and told me I was bad girlfriend again. And I got mad and told him I didn't want to be his girlfriend anymore. That made the argument worse, and he told me I was just breaking up with him because he was autistic. But it's not the first time he's gotten angry - he's angry a lot of the time and he insults me a lot ex: He called me stupid last week because I got a fact about star wars(his special interest) wrong when we were talking about it.

He was still yelling when I hung up on him. He called a few more times but I didn't answer. But now I feel bad about breaking up with him. I'm wondering if he's really hurt by it, or if I should have been more considerate of his routine like he said. *I didn't make "plans" with him to go to his house that day, I'm just usually supposed to go there at 5pm because he gets sad when he doesn't see me. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[leasstories]

Being Rockstar Eddie Munson’s girlfriend

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

@noneknxws ‘s VALENTEBUARY

DAY 5: Free day

No Trigger Warning

WC: ≈1K

You’ve been dating Eddie since senior year. As soon as you both graduated in 1986, Eddie got an opportunity, a label offered to sign Corroded Coffin. That’s something he cannot say no to and you even pushed him toward that path. Now the magazine name you ‘Rockstar Eddie Munson’s girlfriend’.

But there are downsides to be a rockstar’s girlfriend. First of all, you often feel insecure when girls throw themselves at your boyfriend. You trust him, of course you trust him, but you don’t trust them, besides you have a very poor self-image even though Eddie has been nothing but reassuring about it. Another problem is the paparazzi, wherever you go, even alone, photos of you get taken. Another downside is when Eddie is on tour. Even though Eddie earns enough money to cover the both of you, you decided to have a job. You wanted your own money, you wanted to be independent. But having a job means you cannot always come on tour with Eddie, and you miss him, a lot. You also both have really different jobs and sometimes it makes you overthink. You wonder if he wouldn’t be happier with someone who is in the entertainment industry as well. But one of the worse downsides is that Eddie is almost always busy. It’s really hard for the both of you to have free time together, just the two of you. It’s hard to plan a date night or to even just stay at home and chill.

You are currently in the kitchen, cooking dinner when Eddie comes into the apartment, all excited. You tell yourself that he is that excited because of the new song they are recording, or because he has had a new tour planned. You weren’t expecting at all the words that comes out from his mouth.

“Baby,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around your midsection while you keep cooking.

“It was a good day Eds?” You ask, chuckling at his excitement.

“Mmh,” He answers, pausing before speaking again. “But not as good as tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?” You ask confused, while putting the cut tomatoes in a bowl.

“I have a free day.” Eddie says. “and I know it’s your day off.” Eddie says while kissing your neck.

You mix the tomatoes with the salad and mozzarella and smile. “Really?” you ask, your eyes sparkling at the idea of spending the day with your boyfriend.

Eddie nods while kissing your cheek.

The next day, your boyfriend wakes you up with breakfast in bed. He went to your favorite coffee shop, ordered your usual as well as some pastries. As soon as he put the breakfast down, Eddie stripped out of his clothes and went back to bed with you. You ate breakfast while cuddling and kissing, like two lazy teenagers. Once the breakfast was over Eddie insisted that you stayed in bed a little bit longer and you ended up dozing off in Eddie’s arms until noon.

At noon, Eddie gently wakes you up and you kiss him softly before asking. “What time is it?”

“Noon baby, get dressed for lunch, we are going at Gino’s.” Gino’s is the pizza place right around the corner. You know the boss and he always put the two of you at the most hidden table to avoid curious fans or paparazzi.

“Why did you let me sleep that much baby… I feel like I’ve ruined our day…” you whine.

“You didn’t ruin anything baby, I swear” he tells you gently before kissing your forehead.

You both put your clothes up and go to Gino’s. Obviously, on the way there some paparazzi take pictures of the two of you, but Eddie, always the gentleman, shields you from them. As soon as you’re in the familiar place that is Gino’s, you finally can breathe.

“Ciao amici!” Gino, the boss, tells us.

“Hi Gino, is our usual table available?” Eddie asks.

“Si! Follow me!” Gino says, leading the both of you to your usual table.

“The usual?” Gino asks.

Eddie and you both nod and Gino disappear into the kitchen.

“I missed those kinds of days.” You confess, breaking the silence.

“Me too.” Eddie says. “I’ll do my best to have more of those. I know how hard it is on you, I know it because I miss you just as much.”

“I’ll try to take my days off during your next tour, so I can come for a bit.” You speak.

“It would be the dream baby. I’d love for you to discover the world by my side. I know how it is important for you to be independent and work, but know that the day you want to stop, I’ll pay everything for the both of us baby. It’s no problem for me.” Eddie tells you.

Gino pits yours and Eddie’s usual in front of you and you start digging in.

“I know Eddie.” You answer while Gino left. “I’m going to try to work less hours if it’s possible, so when you are in town, I can be with you more.” You say.

“I’d love that babe.” Eddie answers.

The both of you keep eating your meal, laughing like you used to when you were in high-school. During those days, you feel like teenagers all over again, forgetting about your responsibilities and jobs.

Despite Eddie’s protests, you pay for both of your meals. After Gino’s you decide to take a walk in the closest park. You walk hand in hand. It is calm and the two of you just live the moment, not even talking, which is a rare occurrence for Eddie. You just enjoy the moment, you enjoy each other’s company.

After your little walk, the two of you went back home and took a hot bath together. Eddie loves blowing bubbles on you, and you find it so endearing. After your shower, you cooked your dinner together and enjoyed it.

Eddie’s day off was a small parenthesis in your busy lives, but you both know that with a little bit of work on both ends, those days can happen more often.

[uglypastels]

okay how about something comforting and cutesy like Eddie just absolutely coddling you and babying you since you had a rough day, idk maybe he helps calm you down

i swear i need an eddie right now. especially needed one yesterday. thank you for the request! i did my best (might be a bit rusty since i haven't written properly in a while )

warning: reader is having a hard day. exhaustion. idk. nothing else i think

masterlist. || join the Stranger Things taglist

Eddie knew something was up the second he stepped past the threshold. He could practically smell it in the air… or maybe the burned bitterness was coming from the kitchen as a dark grey cloud of smoke. Or maybe he figured it out by listening to your curses at the oven and the pitch-black baking dish you threw down at the counter. The metal clanged loudly, causing you both to flinch. 

‘Baby?’ Eddie asked apprehensively, not wanting to startle you. He half succeeded as you turned around harshly but immediately softened your features at the sight of him. ‘Are you alright?’ 

You don’t answer since both of you already know the answer. All you do is take the steps to break the distance between the two of you, lips are dragged down into a horseshoe-shaped frown, and tears threatening to burst at any second. Eddie catches you into a tight embrace, pulling you in. 

‘Hey, shh, it’s ok.’ He had just returned from work and must have been driving with the windows down because his hair smelled of the summer wind. 

‘I just wanted to make you some dinner, but it got burned– I’m so sorry, honey.’ You sniffed out. 

‘Is that all?’ He felt it was quite an extreme reaction for a burned casserole [or whatever the ashes in the dish were supposed to be. Truly impossible to tell by the state it was in.] Then again, he knew how much work you put into your cooking and especially after a long day having something go this wrong could be the last straw, but knowing you, there must have been something before already to put you in this mood. 

‘It’s just been… a lot.’ You didn’t feel like talking about it. Would much rather forget everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. 

‘I understand, baby. Do you wanna sit down for a bit?’ He pulled away slightly to look you in the eyes–which were now red and beginning to puff up. Besides that, he saw how frazzled your hair had gotten throughout the day and how tired you looked. He could only assume he looked about the same, if not worse. 

‘No,’ you wiped at your eyes, ‘I should make us some dinner. There should still be some—’ 

But Eddie was quick to cut you off. ‘Oh, no. You’re not cooking anymore today. C’mon, you need to rest. We can order something.’ He already saw your frown reappear, not happy with that idea. After all, you really wanted to do something nice for Eddie. Though now the surprise aspect of it all was gone anyway, you might as well enjoy a nice takeout. Eddie grabbed your hand, swinging it side to side. ‘What do you feel like? I could personally kill for a pizza right now.’

‘Pizza is fine.’ You nodded, but Eddie wasn’t too sure just yet. 

‘Sure? Or are you just saying that because I suggested it?’ 

‘Can’t it be both?’ You brushed some of his hair out of his face. Even though he had put it in a ponytail, most of the shorter strands framing his face had come loose. Eddie looked at you for a moment before nodding.

‘The usual, then?’

‘Mhm,’ you simply replied. Then Eddie told you to get comfortable on the couch before placing an order. You sat down feeling tired and restless simultaneously; there was so much you needed to get done, but you had no energy for any of it. By the time Eddie returned, your eyelids were already betraying you, becoming heavier and heavier. The shift of weight beside you was just enough to stir you from the nap. 

‘Sorry,’ Eddie whispered. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’ 

‘I wasn’t asleep.’ You rubbed your eyes, sitting up straight next to Eddie. 

‘Of course not.’ He chuckled and took this opportunity to bring you in for another tight hug. He practically pulled you into his lap, kissing your cheek, mumbling, ‘I missed you today,’ between a kiss here and there. 

‘Missed you too.’ You kissed him back. ‘And I’m really sorry about dinner, again.’

‘I’m banning apologies in this house tonight. You have nothing to be sorry for.’

‘I nearly burned down the kitchen!’

‘That’s an entirely different problem, then. We still get to have dinner, but if you had burned the kitchen down… ‘ he exhaled deeply, and something inside him lit up at the sight of your smile cracking through the hard shell the day had built up around you. For the next half 20 minutes, he kept making dumb jokes to get your smile to grow bit by bit. Most of the time, you would roll your eyes at him or smack him playfully on the arm, but anything was better than tears. 

Then the doorbell rang, and almost automatically, you got up, but only a few inches off the sofa before Eddie grabbed you by the hips.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ 

‘To get our food?’ You said whilst the doorbell rang again.

‘No, you’re not,’ he pulled you back onto the seat and got up. ‘You’re resting.’

‘But you should be resting too!’ You wanted to shout out, but he had already left the room to open the door for the delivery boy. A minute later, Eddie returned holding several takeout boxes that contained no pizza, but you knew exactly what it was instead. 

‘I thought we decided on pizza?’ You asked, puzzled as he put the food on the coffee table before you. 

‘Yea, but I thought you might like this better.’ Eddie shrugged, beginning to unpack the boxes. ‘Felt like it would do a better job making you feel better than pizza… usually does, at least. But if you’d prefer pizza then I can still quickly call–’ 

‘No, it’s perfect. Thank you.’ You kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you for everything.’

the end.

thank you for reading! please support your (not so) local writers with comments and reblogs <3 it means the world. also, I love to hear what you thought of the fic. asks are always welcome

consider leaving behind an anonymous review :p

[some1s-sista]

It was a long Friday. The boy’s psych eval was at 10am. We were there at 9:45 and she took him right in which was cool. At 11 he was still in there. The a/c was set on Frozen Appendages so I left the waiting area and hung out on the porch for a while. It was beautiful outside. I popped my head back in the door and asked James if he had any zip ties in the truck and he looked at me oddly and asked “you arresting someone?” I was like “No! Her sign must’ve fallen down in the wind, I’m gonna rehang it for her. Cuz I’m a lovely person.” It was almost noon before they were done. They didn’t need a parent interview so she asked me a few questions and we left.

Told the man “I want to go everywhere while we’re here.” So he was all “Can you narrow that down a little bit for me?” So I told him the little antique place in Camden, the art supply store, Wally World, Lowe’s and Ollie’s. But if you don’t want to be here all day, Lowe’s and Ollie’s are a definite.

So he took a left, which meant no little antique store, and then asked the boy where he wanted to go for lunch. And of course the boy said PIZZA HUT!!! So we went to Pizza Hut first - I was hoping for the new Thai place or burger restaurant but the absolute joy on his face when we got to the Hut … there was no way I was going to ruin that.

So we got two pizzas and some sodas and the a/c in there was even worse! Set on hypothermia, it was so cold and I was shivering so badly, the toppings kept flying off all over the place! It kept the husband laughing though.

Then we hit up Lowe’s and Ollie’s and as usual, we got home and realized we forgot most of what we needed.

But we did get the TVs hung in the cabins (and out of my bedroom! Yay!) and bought more white trim paint (so we all know what I’m doing tomorrow) and I just gave the kids the pizza leftovers for dinner (no cooking tonight!) and now I’m getting ready for a scary movie and popcorn!

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 25 “Endurance Test” [Episode List] Tim gets a bit too cocky and challenges his gassy friend by (jokingly) doubting of his farting skills. Dave, whose farts are being as powerful as usual, if not more, gladly accepts the challenge.

This story was originally requested by StraightFartGods.

POV: Tim

The weather outside, despite being warm, wasn’t the best so our plans for the night, being a group of friends who’s starting to surrender way too easily (it’s because once you’re past 25, you get instantly old), we all decided to stay home, our respective homes even, so Dave and I ended up alone. We don’t mind that much.

Dave likes going out way more than me (though it’s not like I don’t know how to have fun) but he too cherishes some good, safe alone-time to recharge social batteries: we’re much more similar than we’d like to admit, which is why we get along so well. They say we’re “the odd couple”, but I think that weirdos simply attract each other naturally, even though they can look very different at first.

“Alright.” Dave said, walking into the living room. He was dressed as if we had to leave, so a grey shirt and a pair of good old dark blue jeans, slightly loose because he untied his belt. “I’m starving.”

“Pizza?” I simply asked.

“The day I’m gonna answer ‘No’ to that is the day you’ll know a skinwalker took my place.”

The power of pizza.

Even though we didn’t actively plan for it, the night slowly morphed into a “movie night”, just the two of us on the couch eating pizza and watching a cheesy, manly, toxic action movie that we can recite by memory because of how many times we watched it: “Bullet Gore”. Now that’s a title!

“Your face is history.” the male hero said, right before turning somebody’s head to bits with his shotgun.

We cheered as and had a sip of beer as if our baseball team scored the match point and enjoyed the unnecessary but fun gore sequences of the film.

“Too bad they ruined everything with the sequel.” Dave commented.

“Aw come on. It’s worse, but not that bad.” I replied.

“Never watched and never will.” he stated, taking a good sip of beer.

By the time the movie was halfway done (it was a surprisingly long flick), I had to turn up the volume because of some noises next to me making me difficult to hear what the characters were saying.

Indeed, Dave started farting, the way he does during nights like these, with pizza and beer acting as fuel for his already incredible talent. He was resting both his legs on the small table in front of the couch, his denim ass facing the TV, so I didn’t have a proper full view of it. I could, however, hear every single blast echoing in the room, with the terrible scent immediately following each thunder.

I would love to say that he was doing this because of my kink, but this is actually what being Dave’s close friend means: you better get used to his farts, because he’s gonna just casually do it in front of you whether you like it or not. He wasn’t even acknowledging that he was ripping one every few minutes, huge ones nonetheless, though once or twice he did snap his fingers to get me to turn to him, so I could see his smirk as he ripped one. Once again, he does this with our other friends as well, but he does seem to put some extra “care” into the teasing part because he knows I actually, well, like it.

But everyone’s got limits: the farts were huge, not overly long, but incredibly stinky. Even for my standards, it was getting a bit… stuffy in there, so I actually went for it.

“I know this is weird coming from me, but… can you tone it down a bit?”

Dave slowly turned to me with a serious, surprised face, and effortlessly replied by ripping a loud, almost wet one, renewing the stench he was immune to. This time it was one of his longer ones, around 7 seconds long.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” he managed to say while farting. “Did you say something?”

After the fart ended and a few moments of silence (ignoring the TV), I opened my mouth to speak again, but my friend’s ass spoke first, emitting another loud, long rip.

Dave gestured to his ear and slowly shook his head, as to say the he still couldn’t hear me, as if we were in a loud nightclub, but the only music piercing through my own eardrums was my bro’s loud fart.

That ridiculous scene actually made me laugh like an idiot, while also giving me the hardest boner so far of the night.

9 seconds and the rip was over.

“So, I did it.” Dave said. “You’ve been healed. I blasted your kink out of you.” he joked.

“Please…” I played along. “Those were like… low-tier farts, for your standards.”

“True.” he playfully admitted. “So don’t tempt me.” he threatened. 

I hated that I found that… hot.

“I’m n-not… I’m just s-saying that the entire room smells like, I don’t know, rotten beer? Is t-that even possible?”

Dave laughed. “If only there was something or someone who could fix this!”

“What are you implying…?” I asked.

“Well…” Dave sat normally on the couch. “I assumed your lungs were better than this. But apparently you just can’t handle my power.” he said, with a cheesy smirk.

“Oh…” I got what he meant. “Well, maybe I’m not complaining because of you’re farting too much.” I leaned closer to him, as if we were doing some shady business. “Maybe I’m complaining because you’re not farting enough.” I dared to say.

My friend replied with a surprised laughter. “Are you seriously challenging me?” he didn’t sound offended or disgusted, just amused. But he can get cocky.

“Wanna bet?” I asked, indeed challenging him.

“Alright, get up.” 

Dave stood up and I did the same: it truly looked like we were doing a business meeting.

“Challenge accepted.” he continued, and we firmly shook hands. “If I win, beers are on you for 3 months.” 

“Deal.” I replied. “But if I win, we’re gonna watch ‘Bullet Gore 2’ later.”

While still shaking hands, Dave looked at me funny. 

“Really? That’s it?” he replied, with a smile. “All of this just to watch a shitty movie with me?”

Funny how that’s the thing he found weird instead of, you know, the boner his farts give me.

“Yeah. Pretty gay, huh?” I joked.

“Okay…” he nodded, still somewhat surprised. “It’s a deal.”

We once again had this super manly handshake going on, just as an helicopter in the movie exploded in a fiery fireball, killing a bunch of henchmen and one of the main villains, with the shirtless muscular hero saying something like “Burn in Hell, you son of a bitch!”. Probably the manliest moment I ever lived through.

“So, let’s hear those toots.” I said, bravely.”

“Toots?” my friend replied. “I’m gonna blast your face so hard you’re gonna regret having this kink…”.

Dave casually threatening me like this… got me instantly hard. I knew he was just playing along but goddammit, why am I like this? Why is he like this? Why the fuck did I even accept this bet?! As my own mind made fun of me, my bro lied on this stomach on the couch, his tall figure occupying all of it, his nice jeans-clad ass facing up, looking like a soft warm denim pillow.

I simply managed to sit between his long legs and planted my face into that ass, still stinky for all the farts he ripped until that moment. My nose wasn’t facing down however, as I didn’t want to make it weird.

“Dude.” I heard Dave say. “Honestly, your lack of commitment to your fart kink disappoints me”. he then laughed, reaching for my head. “Be a man and face my ass.” he said, pushing my head deeper between his denim asscheeks.

I tried not to laugh myself at that weird statement, so I just obeyed and turned my head, facing down, now fully at the mercy of my friend’s powerful butt. I took a good whiff, enjoying the smell of almost 1 hour of loud, post-pizza blasts. As I did that, I felt the ass’ muscles relaxing, a sign that Dave was pushing one out, and indeed it came out immediately: an ear-piercing blast and made my face shake, almost wet-sounding, felt like a slap on my face. 

My task was clear: not a single particle of gas had to reach Dave’s nose, so I inhaled it deeply and loudly as the fart kept erupting straight down my nostrils. I inhaled so hard and for so long that I actually surprisingly outlasted my friend’s 9 seconds: now the only noise we both could hear (besides someone getting shot in the movie) was me breathing his gas in… which made me realize how weird that was.

Am I making this weird? Too… “porn-y” for my straight friend? I love that he has no problems with me and my kink, but I don’t want to cross certain lines you know. He’s not saying anything… but his silence only makes it worse. I had to make sure.

“Dave.” I said, my voice being muffled by his ass, which made him laugh. “Am I making this weird?”

My friend simply turned his head, trying to look at me. I managed to get a quick look of his facial expression but the only thing on his face was a cocky smirk.

“Not weirder than usual to me.” he simply said. He then reached for my head, making it bounce a bit in his ass. “…Ready?”

Another fart erupted, which itself was Dave’s real answer to my question: “it’s fine”, he knows what this kink is by now, and he’s the one who basically challenged me to sniff it all up. Plus, if he was weirded out he knew he could just tell me and I wouldn’t be offended: we’re all adults here after all.

So there I was, my nose enduring some of the worst rips my friend ever gifted to me, the sheer power of those blasts being raunchier than his usual for some reason, maybe because of the beers being warmer or the mozzarella on the pizza being spoiled. No idea.

Or maybe it was just Dave putting extra efforts into his farts, if that was even possible. He’s the Fart King after all, so if he was somehow able to set custom pitch, loudness and power for each farts he ripped I wouldn’t have been surprised. Then again, he could even fart on command, so maybe he doesn’t need more buffs than he already has.

“Your face is history” my friend said, in a deeper voice, a clear reference to the masterpiece we were watching earlier.

And just like the henchman from the movie, my head was blown away by a sheer deadly force, this time in the form of Dave’s being unhinged, each natural blast somehow bigger and better than the previous one. I feel like that it doesn’t matter how this bet goes: I’m winning by simply having a bro like him.

I kept sniffing it all up as the blast rushed down my throat. He was good at farting, but I was also good at taking it. It’s like I said: weirdos work better together!

Yeah, I was taking it all like a champ.

“I could do this all night you know.” he boasted, during a rare moment of his ass being silent.

“What a coincidence: me too!” I bragged.

“Ohhhh… someone’s getting cocky back there.”

Dave really wanted those free beers, huh? He once again reached for my head and, with a firm grip, pushed it deeper down his warm denim ass, now almost sagging.

“Let’s see if you can keep your promise, shall we?” that was a threat.

There was like 10 seconds of silence, 10 never-ending seconds, but I just knew Dave was brewing something big, as he kept my head there (not that I was planning to move it anyway). Finally, he turned to me, with a cheesy grin, purposely trying to look like some kind of serial killer from a slasher movie before finish his victim off. 

And then he hit me with his weapon of choice: the loudest fart I heard that night. It was big, it was powerful, it was deep, long. His hand didn’t move and my whole face was shaking because of the sheer power of the blast; I had to close my eyes ‘cause the gas was making them burn. How was it possible to fart so naturally and casually like this for him will always be beyond me… but I didn’t care. I managed to breathe that monster in with my mouth open, almost choking on my friend’s deadly gas.

Dave loved the challenge, but two can play this game! I could tell he was amused, disgusted and surprised by how good I was at enduring his powerful rips.

And finally, after 16 whole seconds, that impressive display of flatulence was over, not a single particle of gas reaching my farter-friend’s nostrils, as I promised.

“I believe you’re losing your touch.” I mocked him.

“With all the farts you've been eating, of course you'd be talking shit you ungrateful bastard!”

“Ohhhh sorry, someone's a little touchy.” I kept teasing him.

“Alright, I’m done holding back.” he sounded comically annoyed by my impressive endurance.

My friend slowly turned over until he was lying on his back, making sure he didn’t accidentally kick me with his long legs. He now assumed a more familiar position, the one he usually has when blasting me. He cocked his legs up, showing off his denim ass and a tiny bit of his red boxer brief, and wrapped his legs around me, pulling me closer to his gas source. His long legs had an even stronger grip than his hand, and my whole face was now completely planted into my friend’s ass.

“I’m feeling merciful tonight, so I’m giving you the chance to surrender now.” he stated, as his legs held me still, keeping my nose right between the rough fabric of his jeans-clad buttcheeks.

“Never.” I boasted. “…unless, you know, you actually want to stop because this is getting too weir-“

“Shut up!” he cut me off. “You just had to ruin my villainous speech, didn’t you?!” he laughed.

I just didn’t know what to say.

“Again, this is your last chance bro.”

I played along, knowing he was okay with it. “Hit me with your best shot, but don’t wound what you can’t kill.”

We both laughed like immature idiots, but Dave took my words at heart, because once we were done laughing at that ridiculous moment, he felt air being sucked inside his anus.

Yes, he switched to “on-command” mode, his secret weapon, his final secret move. Despite my face being there, my bro didn’t have any trouble at sucking more and more air through his ass like a vacuum cleaner, and the sound that made wasn’t that different from an actual fart. Every time I heard that “air-being-sucked-in” noise, as silly as that sounds, I think of a drumroll, the kind of tension that raises before the beat actually drops, because that’s what Dave’s farts are: something to look forward to… if you’re into it of course.

He’s been sucking air for like 20 seconds now and I started to regret my cockiness: when even a kinky bitch like me ends up being afraid of his own best bro’s farting skills, you just know something big, maybe too big, is gonna happen.

The anticipation made me hornier than ever, and the fact that it was, well, Dave, just Dave, my friend, made it even hotter for me. So casually, undeniably hot.

Finally, he stopped sucked air in, and I could hear Dave breathing (from his mouth) heavily, a sign that he was getting tired… and even his ass was getting sweatier and warmer.

“Your face is history.” my bud said again, in a comically deep voice. 

We love that movie.

What followed, however, almost made me pass out. 

The loudness was almost unnatural, I feared it could make me deaf. Imagine the stock sound of a fart, only longer, more powerful, airy, the most impressive fart Dave ripped in months, something so powerful that he can even feel the recoil as he pushed it out… just like a shotgun.

The more he farted, the louder it got, and I swore he was gonna tear a hole through his jeans this time, there was no way his clothes were able to endure that. I kept sniffing, breathing heavily, the fart’s pace being faster than my own breathing, if that makes any sense. 10 seconds already and the blast didn’t seem to lose any power: I almost got scared.

As the fart kept getting ripped, I felt Dave stretching his long denim legs wide to ease the fart out, which in turn made it sound even louder and deadlier. I felt like living a weird fever dream, probably because of all the poisonous gas in my lungs. But I also felt the luckiest man in the world.

I dared to peek over that denim ass, only to be greeted by Dave having the most evil smirk in the world, completely unfazed by how weird I was, how all of that was… but I could also see how tired and sweaty he was from forcing all those farts out, incredibly enough.

I planted my head back where it belonged, sniffing as much as I could, as if my life depended on it, even though I was almost passing out for all that stench… and the blood rushing down to my boner didn’t help to focus at all.

And yet… I won. The fart was losing power, ending with a quick series of toots, Dave’s legs crashing down the couch, his left one on my right side, his right one on my left side, and I got up myself, my face leaving that gas trap, finally sitting down normally on the couch.

I took a good look at Dave: he was indeed tired, sweaty, sporting a silly smirk.

“Is that how you look like after sex?” I dared to joke.

My friend laughed. “Hey, I love you bro, but you gotta settle for my farts.”

I patted one of his legs in response, as a cheesy way to thank him, and hopefully he knew how thankful I was. I mean, he already knew how aroused I was anyway, so why keep the fact that I’m grateful a secret?

Dave too adjusted his position, this time kicking me on purpose while doing it, and sat back normally.

“I gotta say, I didn’t except you to win.” he admitted.

“…win?!” I replied. “Bro… I was basically done. That last one almost killed me.”

We both laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Let’s call it a tie then.” he proposed. “Until next time at least.” he just casually said.

I simply turned to the TV, only to find out that the movie was over.

Did Dave just face-farted me for like… 30 minutes?! Time truly flew by.

My friend then reached for his beer and the remote. We some on-demand features on our TV and, after navigating the UI for a few seconds, he started downloading “Bullet Gore 2”.

“Really?” I asked. 

“Well, if you can endure all of that gas, I can sit through a turd of a movie.” 

I think he was gonna watch this movie with me either way, regardless of any bet, just like I’m more than happy to offer him a beer whenever I could, so all of this fart-bet was for nothing.

Then again, weirdos attract each other naturally...

End of Episode 25

[pineappleciders]

RW Omori squad (separate) with a s/o who has verbally abusive parents. Just like “oh it’s fine, it’s how we talk :)” and it’s clearly not, and the character can see that. (and the reader knows too but they don’t like to say that because that’d make everybody sad!)

RW OMORI gang with an S/O who has verbally abusive parents

includes: SUNNY, AUBREY, KEL, HERO, MARI, BASIL

TRIGGER WARNING: verbal abuse, physical abuse (mentioned), parental issues, arguing

reader is referred to with they/them pronouns

☆ ☆ ☆

SUNNY

sunny grew up in an asian household, and not to mention his parents favorited his sister. so he's faced his fair share of hurtful comments or impossible standards

although, he hasn't really gotten it to the extent you have, and he's a little. concerned.

like when he first hung out at your place and he heard your mother call you names and berate you,, he got really nervous and awkward

he really doesn't like arguing, and for many other reasons you two sort of decided it would be best to not chill at your place

but it doesn't mean he ignores it!!! he thinks about your parents all the time, and is kind of scared to pry but he asks about it for your safety

you two spend a lot of time at his house!!!! he prefers to not go outside and seeing as your parents erm. aren't the greatest, his house is usually empty and so it's perfect for hanging out!!!!

he never pries to the point of making you uncomfortable, but he is very worried. he'll constantly try to be there for you and lend an ear, as he knows your parents aren't the best listeners.

if you text him that your parents are being loud or yelling at you, he'll send you songs he likes for you to listen to to distract you and texts u constantly to keep you company

AUBREY

it. really pisses her off.

she had incredibly neglectful parents, and her mother would even get physical when drunk

so she knows what abuse is like. that's why although it angers her whenever she hears your parents degrade you, she never talks back to them or anything. she knows that would only end up worse for the both of you

although, she does express it a lot when you two are alone.

"dude, your parents are dicks, Y/N."

she's fully aware you're only playing it off for everyone's sake, but she never really talks about it. she knows how much it sucks for someone to call out a facade cough cough

she'll get you little trinkets or send you images of things that you like or that remind her of you throughout the day to hopefully cheer you up

her house isn't really available for hanging out either, so you guys often go to the lake or get pizza at GINO's, or just chill with the hooligans at the park

she never judges you for it, and tries to subtly let u know that she's there to listen whenever you need it. she wants to offer support that you otherwise don't really have

KEL

when your parents start saying shit at dinner, he looks kinda awkward and tries to change the subject. like if they started comparing you to him he'd be like "oh, haha i actually look up to Y/N! you raised an amazing kid :)"

he might dislike your parents, but he's always respectful of parents in general. he was always taught to respect his elders!!!

and then when you two leave the house he looks at you like a dejected kicked puppy

"man.. your parents are really something, huh?"

kel had only really been insulted by his parents during arguments or whenever he did something wrong, whereas he'd get spanked with a shoe and berated. they didn't verbally degrade him often, but they emotionally neglected him a lot.

he feels real bad for you, but he tries not to bring it up often. he knows it's a sensitive subject, he can tell by how you constantly say it's normal and it's just how they are

kel wants to wait until you're ready to talk about it. he doesn't push it, he wants you to come to him whenever you're comfortable!!

lots of walks and playing sports to get out of the house. he is constantly treating you to pizza at GINO's, and his family loves you to death!!!!! hero sees you as a little sibling and is always teasing kel about you

HERO

he tries his best to be respectful around your parents. he honestly wants to punch their faces in but he will not admit that

it concerns him when you lie and say it's nothing, but he doesn't push it often. sometimes he'll let you know you can be honest with him and that he's there to listen

with most parents, hero automatically wins them over and always tries to be polite and kind. but he doesn't really bother to get your mother roses or strike up conversation with your dad. he just can't really be comfortable around them

hero's family is very welcoming, so he'll always invite you over for dinner and his mother is asking constant questions!!! kel bugs you and jokingly asks why on earth you'd date someone like hero

(this earned him a smack on the head from both his mother and hero)

gets you gifts and flowers often, and leaves encouraging notes and compliments. he really doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself,, he knows it must be hard having parents like that

has a bit of a hard time finding words if you break down or cry, so he holds you in his arms and rubs your back.

"hey, hey, sshh.. i know... it's alright.."

MARI

similar to hero, your parents make it hard for her to control her anger. they're just so!!!!!&!!$&$ she has a general level of respect and awareness though, so she never really says anything

if she's at your place, she tries to be quiet but eventually can't take it and stands up for you.

"you should be a little easier on them. they've been doing quite well in school lately." she says, crossing her arms.

unfortunately this led to her getting kicked out, but she didn't really regret it

if you're ever feeling down about your grades or yourself in general, she's immediately showering you with compliments and encouragement. mari can't stand seeing you doubt how much you mean to her

i think mari has had a complicated relationship with her father, so she isn't a stranger to arguments and general mean comments and berating. part of why she's such a perfectionist is because her father pushed her,, so she's a bit of a hypocrite when saying you shouldn't let your parents dictate what you do

she's very supportive of wherever you want to go in life, always helping you practice and follow your dreams no matter what!!

always taking you out for picnics and dates!!! you spend a lot of time with the group to get away from things for awhile

she plays the piano for you to help you relax, and sometimes you fall asleep on her shoulder as she plays a calming song. she cherishes those moments the most.

BASIL

he hates it, especially when your parents come into the room and start yelling at you. he can't stand it at all

it makes him angry, but he's far too scared and shy to say anything, so he opts for excusing the two of you and taking you outside to check up on you

he can only imagine how hard it is for you to deal with that, so he's always checking on you to see how you're holding up mentally

he isn't great with words, so you two often spend lots of time together!!! at the park, at his house, at the beach, anywhere is fine with him as long as it's with you

polly loves you dearly!!! she's always embarrassing basil in front of you

he's scared that you're insecure about yourself due to your parents' words, so he leaves little sticky notes and drawings around to encourage you in everything you do

"hi Y/N! i hope you have a great day!!!!! here's a sunset picture, it reminded me of you :) -basil" and there's a photo attached of a pretty sunset

you cook the simplest meal?? he's praising it like it's gourmet

he gets you into gardening and photography, always sending you pictures that remind him of you!!!! they're good coping mechanisms for him and make him happy, so he wants to share that happiness with you

[hh2990]

Excerpt from my upcoming Modern AU Larysgon on AO3.

“You will collaborate with Larys Strong. He’ll help you with any information you need.”

Aegon slightly holds his breath upon hearing these words from his boss, who speaks them as casually as commenting on the weather before proceeding with the case details. His reaction contrasts with that of his partner Martyn, who glances sideways, rolling his eyes at the mention of Larys before looking ahead again.

“Coffee? This crap is depressing; I need some energy,” Martyn asks as they leave the captain’s office half an hour later.

“You should’ve chosen a different career,” Aegon replies, nodding and heading with him to the break room. “I’m not sure where I picture you better, in a circus or a zoo.”

“I think I’d get along well with the baboons.”

“It’s never too late,” Aegon smiles as his partner laughs.

The station was a vast place that housed all the different departments, divided by space separators encompassing several desks separated by low panels that allowed for easy individuality to be broken when communication with the neighbor was needed. The break room was near the cybersecurity department, so Aegon couldn’t help but glance over as they walked down the hallway. Over the divider, he could see Larys at one of the furthest desks, taking a phone call amid the constant noise of voices and keyboards.

Unconsciously, he searched for even the slightest interaction, and most of the time, it was reciprocated with another glance, but this time Larys wasn’t looking at him. The absence of that small moment, usually shared in their daily routine, felt like a missed opportunity.

Upon entering the room, they found Estermont, and both he and Martyn began ranting about the morning they were having and how little they got paid for all they had to deal with and endure. Aegon limited himself to pouring the hot coffee that remained in the pot while listening to them.

“And we’ve been assigned to Strong.”

“Damn. You guys are really in luck,” Estermont smiled sarcastically, elbowing Martyn while gesturing for Aegon’s reaction to his words. “The precinct’s weirdo at your service.”

Aegon shot them a warning look as he leaned his lower back against the counter and sipped from his cup, grimacing at the bitter coffee as he had resolved to consume less sugar.

“Aegon, the magnanimous lord of the outcasts,” Martyn mocked. “I’ll never understand why you two get along; you have nothing in common.”

“If I only associated with idiots like you two, my brain would wither away.”

“Very funny, but you’ll remember our wise advice when you see something that doesn’t fit; maybe you’ll find out he’s subscribed to some serial killer channel or, worse, that he puts pineapple on his pizza,” Estermont said in a mock-serious tone.

“You’re giving me chills,” Aegon replied sarcastically as Martyn laughed.

The conversation was interrupted by a noise, and when they saw it was Larys who entered, a sudden tension made Aegon straighten slightly. Larys merely greeted his two colleagues politely, and Aegon was grateful that he didn’t seem to associate anything he might have overheard with him; he would deeply hate for Larys to think he was mocking him behind his back.

The thought brought back the memory of his younger brother when they were teenagers and the look of helpless disappointment every time Aegon mocked and humiliated him in front of his friends. He had to quickly push the memory aside and remind himself that he was no longer that person.

“Well,” Estermont said when the silence continued as Larys moved toward the coffee pot next to Aegon. The latter met Larys’s brief gaze with a light flutter of nerves in his stomach. “I’m going to get back to work; it won’t get done on its own.”

“We will too,” Martyn said, sharing a slight smile with him behind Larys’s back.

“I haven’t finished my coffee,” Aegon said, clearly hinting for them to leave, wanting to avoid any out-of-place comments or innuendos. Besides, it might be the only chance today to be alone with him.

Martyn and Estermont exchanged glances before leaving, making a subtle mocking gesture that Aegon ignored.

[judasofsuburbia]

for good || argyle week day one: missing scenes

rating: teen and up || pairing: argyle and jonathan || word count: 1113

day one of @argyledaily 's argyle week: missing scenes

"Has anyone seen Argyle?" Jonathan asks. They're still coming down from El going into Vecna's mindfuck palace via the Surfer Boy pizza dough freezer. Mike and Will are holding El on the floor and the general chaos has died down but everyone is still a little shaken. 

“He's in the van smoking I think,” Mike responds with the indifference that Jonathan has become accustomed to. Even amongst the draining atmosphere that was the last few hours of their lives, Mike can still find a way to be a little shit. 

Jonathan rolls his eyes and pushes open the front door of the Surfer Boy Pizza. Sure enough, the van doors are propped open. But Jonathan doesn't see any smoke.

Jonathan calls out for Argyle and hears a muttered, “In here.”

When Jonathan appears on the other side of the open van doors, Argyle is curled into himself. His chin is resting on his knees, his long hair making a curtain of sorts around his face, and his eyes are streaming with tears. He looks up at Jonathan, absolutely defeated, and Jonathan’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Dude,” Jonathan breathes, coming to sit next to Argyle. His arms hover for a minute before deciding that yes, they should be put around Argyle at this moment, and he does just that.

Jonathan holds him for a few silent minutes, the only noise being Argyle’s sniffles. He’s never held Argyle like this, not seriously. Argyle will throw an arm around him sometimes, leading him to whatever shenanigans they have going on. It’s always playful and is dropped a minute later. This is much, much different.

Argyle’s knees drop down and Jonathan goes to move his arms off but then Argyle is tucking his head into Jonathan’s shoulder and oh, okay, comforting is still going. Argyle's had a few freak outs the last few days, rightfully so, but usually a blunt brought him down to a more mellow place, for better or for worse.

That's not what he needs right now though.

Jonathan starts to rub his arms up and down Argyle’s and Argyle’s breathing starts to become steady again so it must be helping. 

“She does that a lot?” Argyle croaks.

“El?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Jonathan inhales to buy himself some time. “Not since we moved, no.”

Argyle hums and whispers, “Scary.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees softly.

“Is that why you moved?” Argyle asks.

Jonathan could spin this. Openly lie like the NDAs would tell him to do. But god damn it, the last few days have already rendered those documents useless. Argyle’s seen it. Not all of it, but a damn lot of it. Too much of it. Literally just helped them get El in between worlds like that. 

Jonathan’s never been a great liar anyway.

“Yeah,” Jonathan answers. “Hawkins, where we were, kinda the cesspool of all those bad things. We thought we’d get away…maybe it would die down. Go away for good.”

Argyle moves his head so it’s off of Jonathan’s shoulder and looks at him seriously. Jonathan once again feels the need to let go but Argyle’s hand stops him. His strong fingers wrap around Jonathan's.

“Why is it her? She’s so…small. Young. Will, too. Fuck, they all are. Hell, we are! They’re so small, why are they fighting this? Why are you fighting this…thing?” Argyle bursts out in a frantic ramble, his voice desperate and strained. Jonathan flinches and Argyle’s shoulders drop. “Sorry, just…that’s fucked.”

“You’re right,” Jonathan says with a shaky exhale. “It is totally fucked. No one in Hawkins would listen to us. El, she…she came from the people responsible. Or at least, the people that knew about it and interacted with it. They…trained her for it. Knew she was special and exploited her. She escaped then Will got caught up in it a few years back. The…thing. It kidnapped him. El saved him. And kept saving everything over and over again‒”

Argyle’s eyes look so, so sorrowful that Jonathan stops talking. He’s never had to explain this to anyone else before. All the people in his life know about this. Witnessed it firsthand. He knows that it’s fucked but he’s never had to drag someone else into it. 

But Argyle's witnessed a lot in the last few days. Way more than he ever should have had to. Jonathan opens his mouth to apologize but then--

“You’re so brave, my man,” Argyle breathes.

Jonathan freezes. His body feels too warm, his skin itching to get off of his bones. The moment feels too intimate. Yet, he fights his instincts to pull away. Something in his brain tells him this moment is too important.

“I‒” Jonathan’s tongue feels too big for his mouth, “I mean‒you. You-- you're brave. You like... helped us. You could’ve kicked us to the curb days ago.”

“Nah man,” Argyle interrupts, a little stern. “You needed help. I’ll always help you.”

Jonathan sighs with a soft smile and Argyle’s fingernails trace circles into his palm. It sends a shiver up Jonathan’s arm. He doesn’t fight it.

“Is that where your mom is? Down where El‒”

“No,” Jonathan cuts him off to help shake the mental image that started to form. “I don’t where she is. I don’t think it’s Alaska,” Jonathan’s laugh is pitiful. 

“Why would she just leave?” Argyle asks.

Jonathan shrugs and his eyes sting with tears. “I don’t…I don’t know. I wish she hadn’t.”

Argyle wraps his arms around Jonathan’s torso and pulls him in for a hug. Jonathan starts to cry into his hair. Argyle cries again too. Jonathan's never cried in front of him before.

It feels so good to be held while they’re crying. Neither of them can remember the last time someone just held them like this. Let them release everything that was bottled up inside into reckless, ugly sobs. 

It’s the first time they’ve ever truly hugged. This also feels good. 

They must cry into each other for at least five minutes, maybe ten. It’s Argyle who pulls away first and wipes his tears and snot with the sleeve of his shirt. Jonathan lets out a little laugh and pulls his collar up to do the same. They’re still holding each other. Argyle is rubbing circles into the middle of his back.

“How do we end this thing?” Argyle whispers. “For good.”

Jonathan turns his head to look back at the front of the van. He looks back at Argyle, his best friend, really his only friend, whose look of determination sets something alight in him. 

“Are you down for a longer road trip?”

Argyle nods with his lips pursed, the vulnerability of the last few moments slipping into a newly found, almost easy sense of purpose. A look that says, "For you, dude? Anything."

This makes Jonathan smile. 

“Let’s get that motherfucker," Argyle declares.

[lxstfathier]

Naive Boy

William Afton x Trans! ftm! Reader

Summary: after a long day at fredbear’s family diner, william takes all of his stress out on you.

Warnings: dry humping, blowjob, slight degradation, mentions of blood/murder, dom william.

A/N: omg this turned out way longer than i expected lmao, anyways, this fic is a commission for @rottrabbit ! thank you so much for trusting me! hope you enjoy it!! 💗

A shitty day. That’s how William would describe the last couple of hours.

He’s been inside the springbonnie suit for a long time, carrying the heavy machinery around the restaurant while struggling to breathe, just to deal with bratty kids and hear the parents complain about the cold pizza or how their child got the wrong item at the prize counter.

And not to mention the huge mess after one specific big party or the discussion that he had with Henry due to some issues with the staff.

It was way worse than other days, that’s what caused him to end up in a really bad mood. The stress heaves on his shoulders even more than the suit, and the pent-up anger boils in his veins. It’s unbearable.

In any other occasion, William might have gotten it all out on someone until his hands and clothes were covered in crimson red. But today? he has other plans, something better.

“Where are you, bunny?” he calls out to you once the restaurant is closed and everyone has gone home.

His vision is limited, even more with some lights turned off, but way earlier he had seen you all around the place, playing with the other kids in the arcades, helping the employees or eating pizza and ice cream. So he knows that you must still be there, somewhere out of his sight.

And as soon as you hear his modulated voice rumble on the empty restaurant, you let go of the plushies that you were playing with and then hop off the price counter, running up to him.

“Here!” you say happily, grabbing his gloved hand.

William slowly turns his head to you, glowing eyes illuminating your features on the dimly lit room. “Help me with something, yeah?”

He doesn’t even wait for an answer, before you can nod or say a yes, he’s already walking. Heavy footsteps and the constant clicking of the suit resonating loudly, while you just follow by his side, through the dark hallway and then into the storage room. But you don’t say a thing, maybe he just needs some help to get out of springbonnie? it wouldn’t be the first time that you do so.

Once inside, he closes the door, flicks on the light and immediately takes off the head of the suit, finally having a breath of fresh air.

“Fuck” William grunts. “It was about damn time that i got out of this thing”.

You take the head from his hands and put it up in a shelve. “I thought that you liked wearing your most precious creation?”

“Oh, i do” he says as he starts taking off the rest of the bunny suit. “Just not when it’s hot, we have a few parties and there’s kids screaming everywhere”.

By the tone in his voice, you can quickly recognize that he’s not in a good mood at all. That’s how he gets when he ends up way too stressed after a hard day, you know him well enough, so you just smile and reach out to help him with the suit. But he grabs your wrist as soon as you place a hand on the yellow fabric.

“I can do it myself”.

His grip is strong, more than usual, enough to make you whince. And it’s confusing, you’re not quite sure of why did he ask for help when he’s not even letting you touch the suit. But you don’t want to wind him up more, do you? it’s not a great idea.

When he lets go of your wrist, you take a step back, just leaving him alone to do his own thing.

There’s an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, while he gets out of the dangerous springlock bunny and you walk around the room, distracting yourself with the old animatronic pieces covered in dust, the boxes filled with arcade tickets, or the mysterious sharp knife that you had never seen there before.

“Come here” William’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

You didn’t even notice when he was done with it, but now he’s sitting in an old chair, in just the yellowish overall that he always wears underneath, patting his thigh as a signal for you to sit on his lap.

A shy smile appears on your lips and you obey his command without thinking it twice.

And as you straddle his hips, it’s almost impossible to not notice how sweaty and disheveled he is. But you don’t care in the slightest. His smell is so strong and so masculine that it turns you on in an instant.

“I had a bad day” William growls, slipping his calloused hands under your shirt. “Now be a good boy and let me have some fun with you”.

Resting your hands on his shoulders, you lean in and press a soft kiss on his lips. A silent invitation for him to use you as he pleases. And William is desperate already, opening his mouth to push his tongue inside yours, quickly turning the kiss into some more intense.

This time it’s not sweet or slow, no, it’s passionate and filthy, a wet mess driven by pure lust.

Still, he needs more than that, so he bucks his hips against yours, searching for a little bit of friction. And at the feeling of that movement, you act on instinct, starting to move you hips back and forth just to grind your clothed heat against his bulge.

Breaking the kiss, he lets out a deep groan and then hurriedly takes off your shirt, throwing the piece of clothing to the ground.

The cold air hits your skin, but you don’t care, not when his big hands come back to your waist to keep you in place and his face finds its way to your chest, dragging his warm tongue over the scars on your chest and your sensitive nipples.

“Will” you moan, too lost in the mixed sensations of his mouth and his hard length pressing against you, surely causing a wet spot on your underwear.

He bites your nipples, just as a fun way to inflict pain, and once he’s had enough he kisses all the way up to your neck, jaw and ear lobe, making your skin tingle with his beard.

“On your knees bunny” William orders in a low voice. “I want you to suck my cock”.

You almost pout at having to stop grinding, you were so close to getting your first orgasm, but you know better than to ignore his command, specially in days like these where he’s too focused on his own pleasure and stress relief to even care about what you want or don’t.

Getting off his lap, you drop to your knees between his legs and pull down the zipper of his overall, revealing his scarred chest damp with sweat and, a little lower, his veiny hard cock surrounded by a bush of greyish hairs.

Your mouth waters just at the sight of it, never getting enough of how pretty it looks fully erect, laying against his belly as a clear drop of precum drips out of the slit.

Not making him wait any longer, you wrap a hand around his thick cock, pumping it a few times.

“Don’t tease” William growls, too impatient, needing to feel you already. “Put it in your mouth now”.

So you do, you lick his pink tip and then slide it inside your mouth, inch by inch, until your nose is close to his pubes and he reaches the back of your throat, doing your best to breathe through your nose and don’t panic, just like he taught you a few months ago.

Looking up at him, you start moving you head at a steady pace, up and down, maintaining contact with those cold blue eyes.

“Fuck” he moans loudly when you hollow you cheeks and your hand squeezes his heavy balls. “Yeah, just like that”.

His words make your clit tingle, way too aroused and neglected, giving you the urge to reach down and rub that bundle of nerves. But you know that he would probably punish you for getting distracted, kicking your hand away with his foot.

And, almost as if William could hear your thoughts, he brings your attention back to him when he suddenly grabs you by the hair and pushes your head all the way down, forcing you to take him entirely, not minding the way you gag or the tears that run down your cheeks.

It’s rough, but you like it nonetheless, letting him fuck your mouth as if it was nothing more than a fleshlight.

“You like this, don’t you?” he says, tightening his grip on you hair. “Choking on my cock like a cheap whore.”

You can’t process his words this time, only focused on how he’s taking advantage of your mouth, just pawing at his thighs as you feel how he’s getting close to his orgasm with every thrust of his hips.

William pushes your head down again, burying himself to the base inside you, and suddenly comes undone with a loud groan. His whole body tenses and his cock twitches, spilling thick ropes of cum down your throat.

He keeps you there for a few seconds, only letting go of his hold when he’s emptied every single drop and his orgasm is now bordering in overstimulation. So you slowly take him out of your mouth, wiping the drool and cum that’s dripping from your lips and chin, tasting the salt of his seed.

Both of you need some minutes to recover. He throws his head back, breathing heavily to regain his composure, and you rest your head on his thigh, admiring his body glistening with sweat and his softening cock.

Neither of you say a thing, too tired for that, but soon you feel one of his big hands playing with your hair. A gentle touch that lets you know how grateful he is to have you, to help him feel better, to take care of any of his troubles.

William thinks that maybe he should do this more often, using you as a stress relief toy is way better than anything else. And, just for a little while, you distract him from acting on those violent urges to murder innocent children.

But you don’t know that. You’re still a naive boy who is just happy to be his little plaything.

[purrplegyuu]

Cold | Choi Beomgyu

Index

Chapter three

Warnings: unhappiness, slightly angst, soft beomgyu, abusive mother, swearing. omg the softest chapter eveeer

Word count: 1.4k

Taglist: @arianap23e, @haatohwa

I don't know why is it soooo soft, I don't like it ughhh. Like this is a dark story. Anyways, the following chapters are gonna be waaaay darker (i mean i hope). I kinda like soft Beommie tho...

Let me know if you find any kind of mistake, i'm not a native speaker and this helps me so so so much ^_^

Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list, if you want to suggest an event to happen on next chapters or if you have any question about any detail. Luv yaa (●'◡'●)

I’m not happy. I know that. I know I will never go to school with a bright smile on my face like Jiwoo, because unlike her, I don’t have anything that makes me enjoy sitting on an uncomfortable chair for hours, looking at the professors as if I am paying attention, and talk kindly to my classmates as if I don’t hate them so much.

I even started to believe happiness is a vile lie American series have shown to us.

However, lately, these bad feelings have been increasing. And dad knows that.

That’s why he came home early on a saturday night and announced that we were going on vacation to that pretty house on a lake that his mother left him as an inheritance. 

“You okay guys?” He asks while driving, looking at me through the mirror. I smile slightly at him, nodding. “Gyu, I heard you got really good grades again. Bet your mother is really really proud” Beomgyu looks at him back, quiet, and totally ignores him. 

The awkward aura all over the car now, as dad looks at Beomgyu’s mother, scared of making his relationship even worse. He has tried thousands of ways to get along with Beomgyu, but the boy sitting by my side never really cared.

Once we arrive, dad gets out of his car, stretching his back. I look at Beomgyu. He really hates my father. At least that’s what it looks like—he gets even darker when our parents are close to him, doesn’t even smirk at any kind of jokes and doesn’t say a single word until they are far away again. 

But today, he looks even more dark than usual, which makes me feel a bit scared.

I get out of the car when he does. I see his mother running towards my dad in order to enter the house with him. 

We both stand in front of the house quietly, looking at the way our parents play like kids with their luggage as they take it in the house. They really look like a young couple. However, I find it a bit weird, but I guess it is just because I never liked her.

I look around. There are so many memories from my childhood—the garden full of flowers I planted when I was five, the rustic oven I used to make pizza in when I was eight, the lake where I learned how to swim when I was nine. But everything looks just too old and dirty—it’s been seven years since the last time we came here, it’s been seven years since the last time I enjoyed being in such a place… it’s been seven years since I last saw her.

I walk through the trees until I have reached a certain place. A small dock made of old wood, mouldy and poorly stable. Hundreds of drawings all over one of the wood tiles—’Jeongseo’ on top of everything, followed by ‘Namhyuk’ and ‘Dami’.

I really miss those times.

By 6 p. m., dad calls me to the big dock in front of our house. 

“Gaeum, honey, could you please go get the meat?” Beomgyu’s mom smiles at him, and makes a disgusted face when she turns around. Dad’s on the white boat his father used to drive right before dying three years ago. Everything I can think about when I see it, is him swearing he will never use it again because it was his dad’s, not his.

“We’re taking Luna on an expedition” he says. I can see the happiness on his face. Luna is the name grandpa gave his boat. “Remember when we used to go to the other side of the lake?” I nod. “Well, we are going to go there to take the dinner tonight” a big smile on his face makes me force myself to smile although I’m not happy or excited. 

“I will go get a sweater”

When I get in the house, I don’t see Gaeum in the kitchen, which I found a bit weird, but don’t really pay attention to it. I go to my room, take a pink sweater and try it on in front of the mirror. I’m wearing a long-sleeved dark shirt which is supposed to cover me up enough to make me feel warm, however, the short jean skirt makes it hard for me to get warm. Even with a big coat, and in the house, I’m trembling.

However, I get out of my room, holding a white blanket, and stop walking when I hear some noises in Beomgyu’s room. The door is closed, so I cannot see anything, but I don’t also see any light under the door, even though it’s 6:30 p. m., and it’s very dark already. 

“Don’t be fucking dumb” Gaeum’s voice sounding so different—meaner, unlike her usual fake sweet voice tone. “Could you please think a bit? Ha, you’re almost an adult, why would I have to ask you to not be so dumb?” The door of my room closes strongly due to the air running through my open window, which makes me jump, touching my chest. No more sounds in the room makes me feel scared someone can catch me, so I walk back to the door.

Gaeum gets out of Beomgyu’s room, and I look at her, trying to look as natural as possible, holding tightly my blanket, faking a blank face to her like I didn’t hear anything. 

“What?” I ask when she keeps looking at me. I even impress myself with my almost perfect acting. 

“Are you ready? I’m asking Beomgyu if he is also ready” I look in his room. He’s not visible from outside, so I just nod to her, going down once again.

Some minutes after that, Gaeum gets on the boat, giving dad the things he asked for and his coat. Beomgyu walks behind her, blank face as always, and doesn’t look at dad, just gets in the boat and sits by my side. 

Dad knows perfectly how to drive the boat, so he does it while we all try to warm ourselves with our coats.

The place we and Beomgyu are sitting is lower than the place our parents are at, so they can’t see us unless they go down.

That’s why he puts his hand on my thigh, caressing it as we’re alone over there. I look at him, looking at the lake deeply. His soft hair moving with the air, his face even prettier than ever, flawless skin, and some red marks on his cheeks like he has just cried. 

“You don’t seem that happy” he says, still looking at the lake. 

“I never look happy” I say, jokingly. Spending so much time with Jiwoo has started to affect me. But he doesn’t laugh. The silence makes me want to be sincere with him. Guess he has this effect on me. “I don’t really like here” He turns around to look at me, almost surprised at my words. It’s a pretty and almost paradisiacal place. Why wouldn’t I like it? “Everything I can think about when I’m here is her… the last time I saw mom” 

We stay silent for a few minutes, weirdly enjoying each other’s company. 

Then, he talks once again. “I know you listened” his husky voice should make me feel scared, however, his hands touching me so softly, his head against mine, his arm around me, his body warming me up… I can’t be scared even if he says he will kill me after that.  And I wonder if that kind of scenes are the reason I love him so much even when he treats me so wrong most of the time. Maybe I don’t love him, maybe I just love the way he treats me so wrong, but sometimes, he acts like he loves me back.

I don’t try to deny it. He knows me well. The voice tone he used isn’t even doubtful. He knows I listened.

“Don’t want to know why was she so mad?” Weirdly, everytime he doesn’t use pet names, it’s just because he’s treating me well. 

I look at him quietly. I find it a bit acted the way he fakes peace, like it doesn’t really bother him. His eyes a bit red, like his nose and cheeks. 

“She found out I’m fucking someone” He flashes a bit more than usual. “, and scolded me for not using condom” His eyes shiny, and can feel like he’s being forced or something like that. However, I don’t say anything.

I never say anything.