#there were only fourteen at the time of this movie now there are almost one hundred

[kitty-pilled-gamma]

seeing an All Stars with so little Cures nowadays sure is weird lol

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 13

[chap twelve] | [all chapters here] | [chap fourteen]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers

a/n: We've got another chapter here that I absolutely love! Now that ice princess realizes what she's feeling, the shenanigans are that much more amusing~

wc: 7.2k

Chapter Thirteen

Come Monday morning, you were still struggling to grasp all the shit that had transpired over the weekend, the short two days of it feeling more like a lifetime. What should have just been a fun party led to a chaotic fight with your family, and that chaotic fight led you to realize that you had a god damn crush on Eddie that you had been trying to ignore for the past twelve fucking hours. And to top it all off, you still couldn’t remember most of Saturday night, leaving you with the sensation of lost time, with the vague feeling that you were forgetting something vital but not knowing what that could possibly be.

When you finally recognized what exactly you were feeling for Eddie - what you probably had been feeling the past week or so, despite your own obliviousness - you didn’t know what the hell to do with those feelings. You tried your best to play it cool as you and Eddie ate food and watched movies and shared his bed Sunday night, but you were certain he could see your hesitation, could feel your trepidation. It felt like a damn sitcom once you started thinking about it - you had to pretend you didn’t have a crush on the boy you were pretending to date. How much more ridiculous could it get?

You’d already decided there wasn’t a chance in hell you would tell Eddie about this. For starters, you weren’t sure if this was a real crush or if all the fake dating was getting to your head; you would be the person to start confusing fake feelings with real ones amidst all the shit you and Eddie had been through thus far.

And if that weren’t the case, you could simply be feeling this was because Eddie was nice to you - you’d never really felt this attracted to someone before, simply dating because it’s what was expected of you, so it could very well be due to Eddie’s kind nature. Niceties didn’t exactly come easy to you, your old friends, or any of your exes, so you couldn’t let yourself go and develop feelings for the first boy that was simply kind to you. You figured that’s just how he was, how he treated all his friends.

On top of that, you didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of telling Eddie about this only for him to reject you. The two of you were such opposites, so very different, that it seemed unfathomable for Eddie to reciprocate your feelings - what interest would he have in you, a girl who was rude and impatient and bossy as all hell?

Sure, you’d caught him looking at your legs or your chest a couple of times, but considering that that’s how all boys have looked at you since puberty, you couldn’t take those moments into account - physical attractiveness was surely something Eddie wasn’t too concerned about, if his character was anything to go on.

And, shit, Eddie was so unlike anyone you’d previously been into, it almost felt crazy to even entertain the idea of liking him. This was nerdy, goofy, metalhead Eddie, the kid who was a terrible student, who dealt drugs, who spent hours playing silly board games that you couldn’t even begin to understand - how did all of that possibly come together to create a package that caught your attention? You hated to be shallow about it, but on paper this maybe-crush on Eddie shouldn’t have happened and couldn’t ever work.

So, no, you wouldn’t let him know about this ridiculous little crush of yours, because it would simply pass in time. You’d move on from it sooner or later, meaning there was no need to draw attention to it now. Give it a couple of weeks, and this whole silly thing would be forgotten - that was your mantra when you woke up far, far too early on Monday morning.

Why you were up before the fucking sun was beyond you - one minute, you were asleep like the dead, and then the next you were wide awake. You figured it must’ve been because you and Eddie spent the majority of Sunday sleeping, and now your body clock was completely out of whack. You begrudgingly sat up in bed - realizing with a blush that you and Eddie were practically on top of each other once again - and glanced over at the alarm clock. You groaned when you saw that it was just after five o’clock.

You rose to your feet and shuffled around the bed, remembering that you saw a pack of cigarettes somewhere on the nightstand. You felt around blindly until you had the box and a lighter in hand, tiptoeing to the door with a silent prayer that it wouldn’t creak and wake Eddie. As you closed it gently behind you, a deep exhale escaped you before you opened the door that led to the rickety little balcony attached to the house.

Of course, you weren’t expecting to see Wayne there with a cigarette of his own, his presence causing you to gasp and nearly jump. You seemed to have startled him a little as well, but he was much more calm in showing his surprise. For a couple awkward moments, you lingered in the open door, unsure of whether or not to give Eddie’s uncle space; but he nonchalantly waved his hand, a simple indicator to join him.

“He’s not up, is he?” Wayne asked, his voice gruff but kind. You shook your head, leaning on the arm of the worn-out couch while popping a cigarette between your lips, flicking the lighter until you could feel the nicotine in your mouth, ���Nasty habit.”

Wayne’s eyes twinkled at his joke, the humor only emphasized by the deep drag he took from his cigarette. You couldn’t help but smile, amused by the fact that he could say that with a perfectly straight face - it was immediately obvious that he and Eddie were related.

You wrapped your arms around yourself while slowly blowing smoke between your lips - despite your sweater, you probably could have used at least one more layer to keep warm. October was always an unpredictable month for the weather in Hawkins - one day the sun would shine bright, the next you’d be freezing your ass off. Your eyes drifted across the quiet trailer park for a few beats before you looked at Wayne again.

“Not a habit I expected to pick up.” You answered conversationally, hoping he didn’t feel as awkward as you did - you weren’t really sure how to talk to the man who raised your fake boyfriend that you totally weren’t crushing on. Wayne hummed in response, allowing you to study him as he also looked around at the neighbor’s homes absentmindedly.

“Should we formally introduce ourselves, or would you prefer to stay strangers?” Again, you smiled at Wayne’s distinct personality, rough around the edges but so clearly kind at his core. Again, it reminded you of Eddie. His sense of humor was odd, but not off-putting to you - maybe that stemmed from your own habit of speaking plainly and from an emotional distance.

So, you gave Wayne your name and he returned the favor, nodding simply while dropping his cigarette butt in the nearby ashtray. He looked up at you with an expression that you’d seen on Eddie’s face before, which was nearly startling - his eyes were studious, as if he were trying to make sense of you, a stare that you were becoming all too familiar with. You could feel your neck warm a little as you waited for him to say something.

“Relax, kid,” He pointed lazily to the couch, which you still chose to lean against rather than sit on. So, you slowly settled yourself onto the cushion, trying to ignore the worn spring that poked at your back. Again, Wayne studied you for a moment longer, making you a little nervous under his stare, “You seem good for Ed.”

The simple statement took you aback, your brows going up in response, which must have amused Wayne if his faint smirk was anything to go on. You looked down while taking another deep drag, shaking your head a little, though not necessarily in disagreement. Really, you didn’t know why you shook your head. Maybe because you knew you and Eddie were bullshitting everyone, and getting a compliment of that sort from Wayne felt wrong; it made you all too aware of your deception.

He shrugged simply, looking back out at the horizon and the vague streams of sunlight that were just beginning to come up, “Suit yourself.”

“You’re probably the only person who sees it,” You responded smally, taking one last inhale from your cigarette. As if on cue, Wayne held the ashtray in your direction, and you put the cigarette out with a thankful look. It’s not as if you wanted to complain to Wayne, but the words just seemed to roll out of you with ease, “I knew people wouldn’t like me and Eddie dating, but I guess I never thought about just how terrible they’d all be… Or maybe it’s me, fuck if I know.”

You were tempted to grab another cigarette just so you could have something to do with your hands, but you settled for fidgeting with the lighter instead. Wayne turned his eyes back towards you for a brief moment, but the both of you continued to stare anywhere but at each other. It felt so damn odd to be here, sitting in silence with Eddie’s uncle with such ease - it should’ve been more awkward, you should’ve been more standoffish. But maybe after yesterday, your energy was too low to be worried about that sort of thing.

“So long as you’re not causing too much trouble, there’s no harm.” He answered simply, slouching a little in his fold out chair, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably, “You two’ll be just fine.”

“You’re sure about that?” You couldn’t help but counter, although not argumentatively; no, you asked it because you simply didn’t believe it.

Wayne shrugged again, meeting your eyes, “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you simply made a noncommittal face of agreement, biting the inside of your cheek as you watched more sun rays slowly shine in the sky. The two of you sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a few minutes, although your mind was going a hundred miles an hour - you couldn’t help but find it odd how easy it was to exist in the same space as Wayne, a man that you literally just spoke to for the first time.

You were bombarded by thoughts of your own family and how damn different this was. Most days, it was impossible to even be in the same room as your father, whose domineering energy was oftentimes unbearable and irritating. Meanwhile the man who raised Eddie put you immediately at ease, had a relaxed energy that invited you to him. For a moment, you felt a flare of anger that you never got to have someone kind like this in your life, that your “idealistic family” was the exact opposite of such.

Wayne eventually rose to his feet, grunting a little as he looked down at you, “I got a long day ahead.”

You nodded, deciding to head back inside too; you’d been willing to fight the morning cold for the sake of sitting with Wayne, but if he was heading back inside you sure as hell weren’t going to stay out here. He held the door open for you, and you nodded in thanks while ducking back into the house, trying to make yourself small against the bedroom door so that you didn’t take up the cramped hallway space. As Wayne shut the door behind him, he gave you a kind little smile.

“Make sure he’s up at a decent time,” he pointed at Eddie’s closed door, “he can’t be missing any more school if he wants to graduate.”

You gave a short nod before opening the bedroom behind you, slipping inside as Wayne turned towards the restroom. Your eyes had to adjust to the darkness of the room, your feet sliding quietly across the floor to avoid tripping over anything and making more noise than necessary.

“Were you talking to Wayne?” Eddie’s voice startled you from the dark, a surprised sound escaping you as you shot a look in his direction. Your ears warmed as your heart beat just a little faster, something that made you immediately want to kick yourself - you don’t like Eddie, you reminded yourself on repeat.

Your eyes had adjusted enough that you could see the outline of Eddie’s silhouette propped up on one elbow in bed. Your voice was quiet with your response, “Yeah.”

Eddie hummed, much in that same way that you heard Wayne do earlier, which caused you to smile to yourself. You glanced at the alarm clock near him as you stood near the bed.

“He said you can’t miss school, so you should probably take me home.” Even without being able to see Eddie’s face, it’s as if you could feel the concern settling in there. Going out on a limb, you added, “Don’t give me that look.”

“You can’t even see my face!” Eddie’s ruffled voice was laced with humor.

“I don’t need to see it to know you’re pitying me.” You laughed a little, but were surprised by Eddie’s hand grabbing your forearm; you hadn’t realized you were close enough for him to touch you, and it sent a jolt through your body.

“I’m not,” You knew he was leveling you with a serious stare, “Just… worried, considering yesterday.”

Your brows turned down, “The longer I avoid them, the worse it’ll get; I wanna piss them off, but not so bad that they start plotting my murder.”

“Why not just wait? We’ll go to school, then you can deal with them later.” Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened for a brief moment before he released you.

You laughed smally, “Well, considering my outfit choices are either ‘teenage boy’s dirty pajamas’ or ‘Saturday night hooker,’ I’d rather go home and change first.”

Eddie scoffed but nonetheless laughed with you; you thought you heard him grumble “Saturday night hooker” to himself, but you couldn’t be sure, as at the same moment he kicked off the bedsheets and stumbled over to open the curtains. You both cringed a little, the sun now high enough in the sky for its light to come through the window. You watched as Eddie yawned and stretched, first twisting his back before raising his arms above his head. Seeing a sliver of skin at his waist, you quickly diverted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring as your ears grew hot. In a measly effort to distract yourself, you began to collect what few belongings you had lying around the room.

“If it makes you feel better, my dad’ll already be gone by the time we get there,” You started, glancing back towards Eddie, your eyes briefly looking him up and down, “And you can come in with me - that’ll keep my mom from acting hysterical.”

A slight laugh escaped him, “You sure I won’t cause the hysterics?”

You shrugged as you two turned back towards one another, “I guess we’ll see.”

Eddie looked to be in consideration of something for a beat before accepting your response, “Right. Gimme ten minutes.”

The trek to your house was passed in relative ease - with how much he chauffeured you around these days, you figured you probably owed Eddie quite a lot of gas money.

At the house, you two didn’t even cross paths with your mother, who was cooped up in the master suite the entire time - she probably didn’t even know you and Eddie were there, too busy fussing with her extensive morning routine. You tried to freshen up as quickly as possible, fussing with your hair, reapplying makeup, choosing a new outfit. 

All the while, Eddie studied your room, looking to be in total disbelief at how much space you had - your room was double the size of his, you had a walk-in closet, and your own en suite bathroom. You were beginning to feel self-conscious, guilty at how much excessive space you had compared to what little he had in his own home.

When you finally exited the bathroom, you found Eddie studying your VHS collection that lined nearly an entire bookshelf. You wondered if he was impressed by the assortment or if he was resentful of how much you had. Aside from the shelf of movies, little of your personality was truly conveyed in your bedroom - your mother was too fussy about the house to allow you to completely make the space your own. Yes, you had your trophies and medals on display, you had framed photos from your childhood placed sparingly about, you had pretty pastel throw pillows and decor, but otherwise the room was nearly clinical in appearance. Again, you felt sheepish about what Eddie’s impression of it might be.

You led Eddie back out of the house just as quickly as you’d led him in, unwilling to hang around longer than necessary. And, much to your surprise, you two actually made it to school with just a few minutes to spare. You nearly, impulsive leaned in to hug Eddie goodbye, but caught yourself mid-movement, awkwardly spinning around to rush off towards your first period class. You hoped he didn’t clock what you nearly did, and you also hoped the embarrassment didn’t alight your face once you caught yourself and ran off. You did not like Eddie, you reminded yourself yet again.

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As the lunch bell rang out, you quickly scooped your belongings off the lab table you shared with a fellow student, retreating from the classroom without stealing a glance back. All throughout fourth period, you caught Duncan shooting loathsome looks your way, and considering how your weekend had gone, you really weren’t in the mood to deal with him.

You figured he had one of two reasons to be pissy with you: the most likely reason was, of course, the fact that someone slashed his tires homecoming night. That someone was you, but you sure as hell weren’t about to confirm that for him.

The second, and less likely, reason was that you and Eddie actually won homecoming king and queen; apparently, everyone in this school had a shitty enough sense of humor to latch onto that miserable joke.

You found out during second period as you mindlessly streaked watercolors across paper, letting the paint bleed and puddle together. At the work station closest to you was Chrissy, who seemed to be just as mindlessly focusing on whatever she was doing; she was interrupted by a fellow cheerleader, who was being far from subtle when she asked “so, Chrissy, what do you think of the little ice princess over there beating you out for the crown?”

It was clear that the girl was trying to start something, so you simply shot her the coldest glare you could muster; you unintentionally caught Chrissy’s eyes a moment later, and to your surprise she appeared somewhat apologetic. As the second cheerleader walked away, you “accidentally” knocked over your cup of filthy paint water, trying not to relish in the way the girl squealed as it splashed down the length of her leg. You thought you may have seen Chrissy smirk, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

So, knowing that Duncan surely wanted to confront you about something, you hightailed it out of class, doing your best to try and avoid him. You’d had enough confrontation the past weekend to last you at least the next month.

Of course, your running off didn’t dissuade Duncan in the slightest; he caught up to you quickly and roughly grabbed your shoulder, trying to spin you around. Without a second thought, you aggressively smacked his hand, causing him to exclaim with pain while pulling back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You bite, turning your fiery glare onto Duncan, crossing your arms and jutting your hip with all the attitude you could muster. From the look on his face, you knew he was too worked up for something as simple as homecoming - this was most definitely about his car.

A mean scoff sounded in his throat, his tone accusatory as packs of students parted around you two in the migration to the cafeteria, “Were you the one that messed with my car?”

You gave Duncan an innocent look of confusion, although you weren’t overly concerned with it being all that convincing - if your eyes glittered with amusement, then so be it.

“What are you talking about?” You had to fight back the beguiled grin that dared to cross your lips - that would’ve been as good as admitting you were guilty, and you weren’t about to do that. No, you’d just mock him with your eyes, taunt him with your words.

Duncan gave you a mean, challenging glare, eyes narrowing as he took a step towards you. Squaring your shoulders, you refused to move an inch, planting yourself firmly - this boy didn’t scare you in the slightest, no matter how hard he tried, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your response was clipped as the both of you glared daggers, neither of you willing to back down to the other.

“So, your dumb boyfriend, then?” Duncan grinned cruelly, as if Eddie was just a joke to him; your jaw clenched harder, your heart skipping as the need to defend him arose. You took a moment to collect yourself, however, knowing that you couldn’t fly off the handle and accidentally say something you’d regret.

“I don’t know what you think Eddie did, but leave him the hell alone.” Your tone was low and serious as you took a couple slow, taunting steps back, preparing to end this face off before it could continue.

In the next moment, though, Amelia and a couple of Duncan’s friends appeared nearby, clearly en route to meet him; a part of you wondered if they knew he planned on confronting you like this. Seeing the intent in their faces, you rolled your mean eyes, turning to walk away because you just knew this shit was about to get worse.

“Hey, homecoming queen, where you running off to?” Amelia’s sing-song taunting grated at you, and you shot a vicious glare back over your shoulder.

“Anywhere but here, runner-up.” You gave her an impudent smile as you continued to walk away. But you could hear them following just a step behind you, which is exactly what you had expected of them; you used to be one of these kids, after all, so you knew all of their tricks.

“It’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation.” Amelia’s voice trailed behind you as an annoyed sigh left your mouth. You continued forward, hoping that your posture appeared completely unbothered, even as the look on your face showed otherwise. The group continued to talk to your back, and you fought hard to keep your mouth wired shut, refusing to respond to their incessant taunting.

You rounded a corner as they determinedly followed after you, and when you nearly walked right into Eddie, a sense of relief washed over you; he must have been on his way to meet you, considering this direction was opposite of the cafeteria. He looked startled and then amused to bump into you, until the group of assholes rounded the corner as well, causing his expression to quickly falter. The two of you shared a tired, fed up look - yesterday was one problem, today was another, and it left you wondering if these annoyances would only continue.

“Would you look at that - just the guy I wanted to talk to.” Duncan greeted with cruel, false friendliness. Without ever having come to a full stop, you grabbed Eddie’s hand and yanked him along with you, forcing him to stumble over his feet before meeting your pace as you continued retreating from this bullshit confrontation, “Oh, come on, wait; I just wanna talk.”

“Piss off, he didn't do shit.” You responded harshly, staring ahead with a wicked glare, although you knew walking away wouldn’t stop them from taunting you. You've seen enough of these antagonistic conversations before to know exactly what to expect - they’d find a way to corner you, mock and belittle you, and then once they were satisfied with your misery, they’d laugh and leave as if nothing happened. You loathed to think that you were once friends with these people, that you were once as nasty as them, and so you were determined to not let this crap happen to you and Eddie.

“The hell are you running for?” Amelia continued with a hint of aggression in her tone. Her hand fell roughly onto your shoulder, manicured nails digging into your skin, “What, are you feeling guilty about something?”

Just like with Duncan, you swatted Amelia’s hand but refused to stop for her, your angered glare deepening as you resisted the temptation to look back at her. You couldn’t give her that satisfaction. But, as you expected, Amelia didn’t like being brushed off, so in retaliation she gave Eddie’s back an unexpected shove, causing you both to stumble a little.

And that was the exact switch that she needed to flip, because without a second thought you whipped around to confront her, tugging your hand out of Eddie’s so you could jab a finger at Amelia. As your energy boiled red hot, you could see her torn between satisfaction and fear.

“Don’t fucking start with me.” You threatened as she matched your glare with her own. All the boys stood back, creating a pseudo-fighting ring around you and Amelia as you both waited for the other’s next move.

“Or what?” She taunted as you arched your brow challengingly; your jaw was clenched so tight that your teeth nearly hurt. When you didn’t grace her with a response, Amelia rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, “Geez, you’re so tempermental these days, it's ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is the fact that you won’t just leave us alone.” You looked around the group harshly, your glower darkening on Duncan before you returned your cruel gaze to Amelia, “I’m not gonna take your shit, so stop trying to intimidate me.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, this time with a condescending smirk, “I don’t need to intimidate you; it’s more fun to get a rise out of you, anyway.” When your face tightened with annoyance, she added with satisfaction, “See? Even that got to you, you make it so easy.”

You resisted the urge to insult her or smack her, resisted the temptation to spew terrible things in her face - you couldn’t take anymore fighting right now, and you couldn’t give her any of the satisfaction that would come with your retaliating. So, you took a couple steady breaths through your nose, your eyes flaring with intensity before you calmed down.

“Whatever.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back towards Eddie, ready to lead him away from this group of bullies.

“Do you even realize how damn transparent you two are?” Amelia prodded again. You wished you were stubborn enough to just walk away, but you couldn’t help but look back over your shoulder; her expression was smug, arms crossed with a sassy attitude, “Some of us have started placing bets on when you’ll finally give this up.”

She got you going again whether you liked it or not, and so you mirrored Amelia’s posture as she looked cruelly between you and Eddie, “Give what up?”

“You’re clearly faking this whole thing.” Your surprised, affronted expression only seemed to amuse her, egging her on even as you tried to control the nervous beating of your heart, “You and Munson? Do you think any of us have been buying this? This whole thing between you too is so fake, it's almost sad.”

Putting on a brave, confident face, you bit back with malice, “Really, you think we’re faking all of this? Shows how much you know.”

“Please, I’ve known you since grade school.” Amelia took a challenging step towards you, eyes alight with spite, “You hate being touched, you’ve told me as much - wouldn’t even let Duncan hold your hand or hug you most of the time. But you cling to this freak as if you’re obsessed with him? It's performative.”

You were about to retaliate, but Amelia was just a little faster and a little louder as she continued over you, bulldozing through whatever you may have wanted to say.

“And don’t get me started on the stupid little face Munson makes at you, like he’s asking for permission to do something or that he needs approval of what he says. I don’t know why, but you put him up to this - I can read you better than anyone else.”

A worried part of you knew that, in some ways, Amelia was right - you two had spent so many years by each other’s sides, and had done just about everything together since you were five or six years old. The rapid dissolution of your friendship didn’t mean that you two would simply forget everything about one another - how could you forget the time Amelia stayed up late in the night to help you with a school project, how could she forget the time you instigated a fight with a boy who rejected her?

Hell, you and Amelia had spent more time with each other than either of you had spent with Janet, having sleepovers without her or going to movies and not telling her. At one time, you two were practically attached at the hip, doing nearly everything together from the ages of ten to thirteen.

So, if anyone was going to see through your lie, it would be Amelia - it didn’t matter just how good a liar you were, Amelia knew how you ticked. And, apparently, she’d been paying a lot of attention to you and Eddie, probably trying to catch you two in a lie.

But, then again, if she knew this was fake, why didn’t she say something about it sooner? Was she simply watching and waiting in amusement, anticipating when you’d give up the act? Or was she using this lie of yours to her advantage somehow? Better yet, was she the one lying to you right now, saying anything just to get a reaction from you?

As your angry eyes bounced around Amelia’s face in search of the truth, your expression only darkened, feeling fired up and eager to fight. When she simply raised a mocking eyebrow - daring you to prove her wrong - your stubbornness flared to the point that your fiery frustration boiled back down to icy contempt. 

Without a moment of hesitation, you gave her a smart look, your tone condescending and cold, accentuated by a mean smirk, “Well, how about you try reading this, you jealous bitch.”

With a flip of your hair you marched back towards Eddie, completely blind to the potential repercussions of what you were about to do. Your determined eyes met his confused ones, but you didn’t take a moment to second guess yourself as you threw your arms around his neck, knotting your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. For a split second, you could see the alarmed realization in Eddie’s face, but just as quickly you were drawing that handsome face down towards yours.

Your lips crashed together like rocky waves, noses bumping and teeth practically clashing; the kiss was sloppy and haphazard, the farthest thing from hot, and yet your entire body pulsed along with the excited leap of your heart. Eddie went rigid against you as if in alarm, and so you kissed him encouragingly, as if silently insisting that he get it together. When you tightened your grip on his hair and pressed your body flush against his, you could feel Eddie’s shoulders relax, could feel the exact moment that he gave himself over to you.

Once Eddie’s lips moved wantonly against yours, sparks flew through your entire being, your heart drumming aggressively in your chest as heat pooled in your center. In sync, you and Eddie melted together, a lithe arm snaking around your waist and pressing firmly against the small of your back; the flex of his fingers along your spine sent another surge through your body, a satisfied sigh daring to escape you.

God, you felt fucking weak in the knees, like a melting puddle in Eddie’s arms; as if to keep yourself upright, you cling to him even tighter, your lips suddenly full of a hungry, desperate fervor. Eddie’s kiss was inexperienced and tentative, and yet you found him utterly intoxicating, his mouth tasting malted and smoky as if he’d recently had a cigarette.

You were consumed by the moment, forgetting yourself as your tongue teased at Eddie’s lower lip; perhaps for the best, it caused him to hesitate, even as you felt him gasp against your lips. For a moment, he pinned you tighter against him before bringing the heated kiss to an end, pulling back with a deep breath as he watched you through his lashes.

Short breaths caused your chest to press against Eddie’s in a way that you tried to ignore, your hooded eyes staring at the shiny tint of your gloss that had transferred to his full lips. Electricity coursed through you, your body sensitive and heated as you finally met Eddie’s attentive, fraught gaze; as you stared, your mind was too frazzled to even think straight.

As if he could tell you were reeling, Eddie composed himself to the best of his ability, taking a step back, but keeping his hand securely on your back as if to keep you upright. Coming back to yourself, you blinked and attempted to correct your expression, nearly too embarrassed to look back at the group that was surely ogling the two of you.

In an effort to appear entirely unaffected, you brushed your hair back from your face and huffed as you met Amelia’s eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were still probably large with surprise, but you attempted to give her a smart, mean look; your voice was weaker than you would have liked as you asked accusatory, “You perverts enjoy that?”

Eddie, too, tried to put up a calm and collected front, using his hand on your back to guide you in the opposite direction of your former friends. While flipping the bird over his shoulder, he attempted to give them a self-satisfied grin, although to you it was so clearly false. Much like you, his tone wasn’t entirely convincing, “Go find someone else to torment.”

As the two of you continued down the hall, you found yourself momentarily hypnotized by Eddie’s features, mesmerized by each tiny detail of his eyes, his mouth, his skin. When he looked forward again, you quickly scrubbed away the look of uncertain elation on your face, forcing yourself to put on an impassive expression. As you stared mindlessly ahead, you had to resist the temptation to press your fingertips to your swollen lips, trying not to be so damn in awe of the fact that you kissed Eddie.

The trek to the cafeteria was passed in total silence, as if neither of you knew how to strike up a conversation after that; your cheeks were warm as you kept stealing glances up at Eddie, who faced forward as if determined not to meet your eyes. The kiss played in your head over and over again as if it were a goddamn movie, the reel on a loop as you thought about his musky scent engulfing you, his wild hair tickling your face, his dexterous hand holding you close.

You could feel heat rising all the way up your neck and ears now, causing you to nearly giggle as you suppressed a grin. You thought you may have caught Eddie glancing at you, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to check in case you two met eyes - that would most certainly make you laugh like a schoolgirl, and you were not about to do that.

You were at odds with yourself - your silly, childish side was practically fawning over the damned kiss, meanwhile your colder, more adamant side tried to shove the giddiness down. You were supposed to be moving on from this crush on Eddie, not making it worse. You shouldn’t have been stupid, you shouldn’t have kissed him, but you got caught up in the heat of the moment, allowing your pride to outweigh your head.

But, shit, that kiss was too good, and you just knew you’d be thinking about it for the rest of the week. You were an absolute idiot for kissing Eddie like that, and you wanted to kick yourself for it. You had to wonder what the hell Eddie was thinking, what the hell he’d say about this later; you both clearly figured that now wasn’t the time, hence your silence, although you feared the inevitable discussion that would come from this.

With each glance you stole up at Eddie’s annoyingly attractive face, you grew more and more worried that maybe you upset him by doing that. Unfortunately for you, now was one of the few times he seemed guarded, because you couldn’t read his straight expression in the slightest. You figured he must’ve understood why you kissed him, but you also suspected that it made him uncomfortable, even as he kissed you back just to appease the onlookers.

You already knew Eddie was a good actor, always putting on a performance for whoever was around even if they were his friends, so his ability to seamlessly slide into the kiss was terribly convincing. In that way, you were lucky, because neither of you looked stupid in front of your attempted bullies. But not so luckily for you, that kiss was far too enticing, as your heart still beat rapidly in your chest and your head was still fuzzy with confusion.

As you two entered the cafeteria and Eddie threw up that easy, joyful smile that often rested across his lips, it reaffirmed that, yes, he was acting, doing exactly the thing you asked him to in this little game of make-believe. You were almost mesmerized by how easily he played his part, guiding you through the lunch line and then to your table, tugging your chair closer to his so he could rest his knee against yours or throw his arm over your shoulder.

It went from being mesmerizing to annoying, because how could he so seamlessly put on these fronts when you were still struggling to regain your composure? How could he laugh and tell stories while his hand was on your thigh and making your entire body feel static? God, it was almost pathetic how worked up you’d gotten, and you just prayed that no one drew attention to it.

As lunch went on and Eddie kept everyone entertained, something began to nag at you that you couldn’t quite place, like a pressure at the back of your skull trying to remind you of something. All throughout the hour, the nagging grew as the kiss played through your mind again and again, even as you tried to think about literally anything else.

While trying to place what was worrying at your mind, you traced your finger lightly along your lower lip, back and forth in an unconscious motion that you weren’t aware of until your gaze flicked over to Eddie. His eyes were locked onto your lips, even as he spoke to the rest of the group, though his speech seemed to slow a little. You quickly dropped your hand into your lap, your body tightening nervously.

You realized that what you felt was a sense of familiarity, that there was an incomplete memory in your head on the verge of coming back to the surface. It was almost as if… kissing Eddie reminded you of something else, recalled another moment in some way. As you lingered on this, it almost seemed as if you already knew his musky scent, his plush lips, his lingering touch. But that was crazy - why would any of those things be familiar to you?

Had the kiss with Eddie simply been similar to a kiss you’d had with someone in the past? Perhaps you were confusing moments, befuddling sensations, because you most certainly hadn’t kissed Eddie before. Nothing about this should have stirred some kind of half-remembered moment, yet, you couldn’t just shake off that peculiar feeling.

You’ve never kissed Eddie prior to today, that couldn’t have happened, so why were you somehow under the impression that you had? When would you have done something that ridiculous and bold and thoughtless?

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks - the hours lost to your mind, waking up in the van, Eddie’s nerves throughout the morning.

Did you kiss him at the party?

With an anxious skip of your heart, your apprehensive gaze flicked back over to Eddie, who was caught up in telling a new story that you hadn’t been listening to you. You drank in his features with a mixture of desire and dread, torn between the two parts of yourself. You couldn’t have kissed him at the party, right? Even if you were drunk off your ass, that seemed like the kind of thing you wouldn’t so easily forget. But you had forgotten so much of that night, had a gap in your memory the size of a canyon… anything could have happened in those however-many hours that slipped by you.

Staring at Eddie’s lips, a wave of nerves crashed over you, and you had to force yourself to look elsewhere. If you did kiss him, why wouldn’t he have brought it up? Why wouldn’t he have asked about it? You must have made him uncomfortable, must have done something that he didn’t like, and he’d rather ignore it than ever address it again. And like an idiot, you kissed him again today, which probably did nothing to make Eddie feel any easier around you.

That was all the confirmation you needed to decide that you could never tell Eddie about this crush of yours - if he liked you in that same way, you would have already known about it. He would have mentioned that supposed first kiss, right? But because he hadn’t, you knew it wasn’t a subject he wanted to address.

And, so, this kiss wouldn’t be discussed either, you decided. You could ignore the butterflies in your stomach for Eddie’s sake, you could go on pretending that everything was perfectly fine between the two of you. You had to pretend.

With a dejected slump of your shoulders, you crossed your arms and slouched; Eddie’s hand still rested easily atop your thigh, and the way you lulled in the seat caused his fingertips to brush under your skirt a little, sending a bawdy jolt up through your center. You stole a timid glance at him from the corner of your eyes, watching as he realized his hand was higher on your leg before he pulled it back with a start.

There was no way Eddie liked you back, and you sighed to yourself, already missing his warm skin against yours.

.

.

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

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[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.8k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of drinking and being hungover, a bit of angst

summary: a delayed flight back home leads to an abrupt realization that ultimately feels stupid because everything between you and steve is supposed to be over

CHAPTER FOURTEEN | ❝𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2016

The music was loud and the bar was crowded but you didn’t mind it all that much. 

Robin cupped a hand around her mouth and leaned toward your ear so you could hear her. “Do you think there’s any chance that he’ll make it back here before the show starts, or at all?”

You pushed up on your toes to see if you could spot Eddie anywhere, specifically his mop of curly hair, but you couldn’t. He’d been tasked with grabbing drinks almost thirty minutes ago at this point. You looked back at Robin and leaned in toward her. “I’m starting to doubt it.”

“Well,” She started. “RIP, I guess. He will be missed.” 

“Truly,” You joked back, placing a solemn hand over your heart.

As if on cue, Eddie’s voice broke through the noise. “Finally!”

He was balancing two drinks in one hand and holding the other as he joined you both back at the small table that you were surrounding.

“Just in time, Edward,” Robin said. “I think the band’s about to finally go on.”

“You guys are welcome for the drinks that I almost died trying to get. The bar’s a shit show because some new guy just started.” 

“We’d already mourned you, though, so you being back now is a little awkward,” You told him teasingly and Robin laughed. 

“I guess I’ll just take this back then,” Eddie responded, reaching over to grab your glass. 

You playfully swatted his hand away. “Hey, hey! What I meant to say was you’re the best for getting these for us. You’re so awesome.” 

Robin nodded. “I agree.”

He smiled then. “Thank you. That’s what I like to hear.” 

The three of you waited for the band to come out— this small group that Robin really liked. She had found out about the show at the last second and, of course, asked you and Eddie to come along too. 

She and Eddie had been friends for the past month; they were in the same advanced music theory class, even though she was only a freshman. And you and her had only been friends for a little over a week, but it felt like longer. The long overdue introduction came in the form of Eddie inviting her along to the midnight showing of an Indie movie you and he were seeing. Aside from Eddie, there was no one that you’d been able to hit it off with so easily. 

It was a little after eleven when the show ended, and you all were still somewhat tipsy as you walked back to your dorm— you had done the second drink run in the middle of the show and made it back in record time. Since you lived alone, it was unspokenly decided that they’d stay with you for the night, it always just made the most sense. Robin had a roommate that she didn’t like (it reminded you of your own situation freshman year), and Eddie had two now that were actually present most of the time. 

The twenty-minute walk didn’t feel too long or unbearable. There was a cool breeze that was completely comfortable and made sense for the end of September. You lingered just a few steps behind Robin and Eddie, humming a specific part of a song from the show that had gotten stuck in your head and not at all focusing on the conversation happening between them. But then, a certain part of it stood out to you.

“I still don’t understand how you’re dating someone whose music taste is so different from yours,” Robin said to Eddie. You weren’t sure how the conversation got to that, but you had to admit, you did agree with Robin’s statement because it had never fully made sense to you either. 

Eddie and Chrissy were great together, you could see that clearly, but the how of it all was what confused you at first because they really did seem quite different. You eventually just accepted the fact that not all things were meant to make a whole lot of sense.

“Our love runs deeper than her bad taste in music,” Eddie answered. “Opposites attract and all that cliche shit.”

Maybe it was the slight inebriation, but you weren’t even fazed by how happy and completely content he sounded right then. Your feelings for him were gone— well, maybe not exactly gone, but at least far, far, far away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Delayed flights were already one of the worst things ever. But delayed flights with a hangover felt like an entirely new version of hell.

A version that you were currently living in. 

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been for the best if you stopped at your third glass of champagne last night, but you didn’t, and neither did Steve. Instead, you both had more than you should’ve at the wedding reception, and then when you returned to your shared room, you two raided the minifridge for every tiny bottle of alcohol it had. 

From what you remembered about the majority of the night— the smiles and laughs shared between you and Steve and the drunken storytimes about the most random topics— you honestly didn’t regret most of it; even though you were now sitting in a chair that was too hard to get comfortable in and stuck with a four-hour flight delay. The bright fluorescent lighting in the airport only made your headache worse and you promptly stole Steve’s sunglasses, and he thankfully didn’t protest. 

“Robin thinks that you’re kidnapping me,” You told him as he sat back down next to you and handed over the water he got for you at one of the shops. You two were only one hour into the long delay. 

“I hope you’re endlessly defending me,” He said, giving you a smile. It was almost annoying how fine he seemed, barely any after effects from last night. 

“Of course I am,” You said, eyes back on your phone as you sent her a picture that you’d taken of a lizard from when you and Steve were at the beach on Sunday. The random picture felt like the perfect response to her ridiculous text of “He’s trying to kidnap you!” when you told her about the flight delay. “I feel like I especially have to defend you now because I owe you for last night.”

You didn’t look at him, not even when your phone was pocketed back in the front pocket of the hoodie you were wearing. It had been around one in the morning when the night came to somewhat of an abrupt end, and it was one of the two parts of the night that you did regret. When you and he were on the couch in your room— sharing a plate of room service french fries and watching an old kid’s movie because it was the only channel that had English subtitles— and you suddenly felt sick. Steve saw you puke (luckily you managed to make it to the bathroom) and he’d been way too nice about it, in your opinion; rubbing your back as the fries and everything else from that night came back up and grabbing a water for you— the only drink that was left in the minifridge aside from two bottles of soda. 

“You actually don’t owe me anything because you finally gave me a song last night,” He told you, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

You closed your eyes as you sighed. “I hate that you just brought that up.” 

You had tried your hardest to forget about the moment he was talking about when you woke up. But, you remembered it way too vividly, and it quickly became the other part of the night that you regretted. It felt worse than the puke moment, even though it happened before that, and it was the one thing that you wished you had blacked out on— you drunkenly pulling up the instrumental version of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen, and using your phone as a microphone to sing it for him in your room. The memory of you jumping around on the couch as you did your very lively performance was almost too crystal clear in your head. The only thing that you were glad for when you woke up and sadly remembered that that happened was that there was no video proof of any of it since Steve’s phone had been dead. 

“That moment was supposed to be never spoken about and only taken to our respective graves,” You told him. “I’m gonna tell Robin that you are kidnapping me now. I hope you enjoyed twenty years of living because your days are now numbered, Harrington.” 

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” You could still hear the smile in his voice, which only made you roll your eyes.

“Don’t forget that you also sang to me,” You reminded him, your own smile tugging at your lips as you remembered pulling up a song for him on your phone when you were done with yours and forcing him to sing. “And I truly loved the way you sang Since U Been Gone.” 

“I only did the first minute of it because I forgot how high it gets,” He said. “You gave me the entirety of Don’t Stop Me Now.” 

You groaned and pulled the hood of your hoodie over your head. “Don’t remind me.”

You heard his soft laugh in response and ignored it, knowing that things would feel a lot less embarrassing if you let the conversation shift to anything that wasn’t this. The sounds of everything else happening in the airport right then, couples and friends and parents with their kids moving around, filled in the silence as Steve took a sip from his own water bottle. 

“You hungry?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “Just tired.” 

You leaned your head against his shoulder then because all you really wanted to do at that moment was sleep. The way he was sitting made it a little awkward, your head resting more so on the point of his shoulder rather than in the curve of it. It definitely wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it wasn’t the worst. 

As if sensing your slight discomfort, Steve shifted a little, scooting a bit lower in the chair so that your head could rest a lot more comfortably on his shoulder. “That better?”

Your eyes were shut as you spoke. “So much. Thank you.”

He hummed in response. “Yeah, no problem.” 

Somehow even with all of the romantic couple stuff that you two had to do these past few days, it was this moment that actually managed to completely change things for you. This was the moment where your stomach did a weird fluttery thing that made you see things differently. This was the moment that made you want to kiss him for real. This was the moment that made you wish that this relationship wasn’t entirely fake and that there wasn’t an expiration date to this ruse that was quite literally tonight. This was the moment that made you realize that you were in way too deep. 

Although, maybe that feeling had been lingering and begging to be noticed the entire trip— during that moment in the pool, during that kiss at the wedding reception, during that slow dance. 

But still, it was right here in this stupidly bright airport that it all hit you like a freight train. And it only made your headache a thousand times worse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You had three more hours of a flight delay and another handful of hours on a plane to reevaluate your feelings; to accept them for what they were or convince yourself otherwise. But, you didn’t do any of that. Instead, you pushed it away entirely. You let yourself fall asleep on Steve’s shoulder for an hour and a half, and then took him up on his offer for food because you figured it would probably help ease away your headache.

You had tried your hardest not to look at him any differently as you two sat across from each other at a restaurant that had really good burgers. You talked about the most unimportant things, spending what was probably too much time ranking TV shows you used to love as a kid and letting Steve go on random tangents about history topics. You’d never been a fan of History, but the way he talked about it actually made it sound interesting for the first time probably ever in your life, and it also helped you not think about anything else. And then you two were finally getting on your flight back home and you slept the entire time of that too. 

Now you sat in his car that was parked outside of your apartment building, and your maybe feelings for him were thankfully still the last thing on your mind. 

Both of you knew what was coming— the inevitable “break up”— but it seemed as if neither of you were ready to pull the trigger. So instead, you both were saying anything to prolong the conversation and keep the night going; you had even brought up the weather of all things just to give yourself another few minutes in his car. And almost an hour later you were still there, sitting in his passenger seat and waiting for the worried text from Robin that felt inevitable given how long it’d been. 

You were in the middle of trying to think of something to say, a question to ask, but Steve was speaking before you could. “Remember when you talked about maybe wanting to teach?”

You kind of forgot that you mentioned that to him before, and you silently wondered what brought up that question, but you nodded anyway. “Mhm, yeah.”

“Sometimes I think about doing that too,” He told you. “Teaching History. But, I know my parents would absolutely hate that.”

The first part of his words made a lot of sense to you because you could actually see that for him, and the rest of his statement made you frown.

“Yeah, but it’s your life at the end of the day, though,” You said. “You’re the one that has to live it, so you should do what you want.” Your mind was then reminding you of who his parents were, and how intense they were, before Steve got the chance to. “And I know that’s definitely easier said than done, and I’m probably making it all sound much simpler than it actually is, but it doesn’t make it any less true, y’know?”

It was quiet for a second and then he was nodding. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You looked away from him then and focused your gaze out the window for a bit. You could’ve kept the conversation going and let a random question fall from your lips, but there was only one thing left to do, and you knew that you had to finally do it. 

“Okay, and on that serious note, I think it’s time for me to make things even more serious,” You said, even though you were actually about to do the opposite. You reached over, looking down to find his hand in the semi-darkness and then meeting his eyes. “Steve, this last month has been amazing and I have truly felt honored to be your girlfriend. But, I think that we need to break up.” You took a brief pause; to make things more dramatic and also to think of what else to say to make this as cheesy as possible. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not ready for a relationship. We’re getting too serious. I think we both want different things. Our lives are moving in such different directions…” You trailed off, trying to see if there were any cliches you were missing. “Yeah, I think those are all of the reasons that I have. Anyway, I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

He smiled at you, and you could tell that he was trying to hold back his laughter at how sincere your unserious words sounded. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Thank you for understanding,” You said with a nod and a small smile on your face. “That was really hard to do.”

It wasn’t until your joking words came out that you realized that they weren’t that much of a joke at all. You were smiling and holding back your own laugh, but you actually felt sad about this entire moment.

You told yourself that it was the friendship that you were already mourning right then rather than anything else; this friendship that you’d accidentally but so easily developed with him. And you knew that it was over— "separate ways" and all that, just like it was written in the rules.

You didn’t really like Steve in any other way. You couldn’t. You refused to, actually, because you could sense that it would lead you down an all too familiar path of pining and unrequited feelings for obvious reasons— he didn’t want anything real or serious with anyone, and you were the opposite. 

You decided then that it was the act of fake dating that made you think that you liked him. The lines of it all abruptly became a little blurry because, of course, acting like you’re dating someone and pretending to be in love would lead to thinking that you actually had feelings for them. You quickly convinced yourself that there was no way there was anything real between you and him, and the only reason why it had suddenly felt that way was because you two had been acting like it for the past month and these extra two weeks. 

Steve was the one who initiated the hug when you two were standing outside of his car. It was a quick thing, nothing too dramatic or drawn out, which you were glad for because it made things less confusing.

“And you’re sure there’s nothing you want me to do for you about Eddie?” He asked when you both pulled back from the brief embrace and your hand found the handle of your suitcase. 

With everything else running through your mind at that moment— all of the conclusions you were coming to and the things you were convincing yourself of— you’d completely forgotten about the Eddie part of this. The complete truth still felt too hard to tell Steve, so you only gave half of it.

“I’m positive. It’s okay,” You said and gave him a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Me and Eddie are just supposed to be friends. I get that now.”

“Okay,” He responded, and you could tell that he was attempting to read you, see how much you actually meant your words. Inwardly, you knew just how true they were, and saying them right then finally didn’t even make you feel sad anymore. “Then, I guess we’re about to fulfill the final rule of the agreement right now.” 

Hearing him saying that pretty much confirmed everything that you had just been thinking. The timer was up and you two had to go your separate ways; even if the rule was scrapped it would be pretty impossible to be friends now anyway. There was no way you could be friends without telling the whole truth to everyone, so this was just much easier. 

And with what he just said, you knew that he didn’t see you two as actual friends or anything else, anyway. At the end of the day, you two were essentially just business partners. You thought back to that group project analogy that you came up with what felt like forever ago. The “project” was finally completed and now you two could go back to how your lives were before you’d been paired up. 

“Yeah. It was nice doing business with you,” You said and held out your hand for him to shake before realizing how dumb that probably was.

Steve laughed, though. A genuine sound that managed to make you smile and not feel like a complete idiot as his hand took hold of your outstretched one. “You too.” 

You walked away once his hand dropped from yours and when the final goodbyes were said, rolling your suitcase with you toward the entrance of your building and deliberately not looking back as you stepped inside because you didn’t know what you would feel if you turned around. 

Talia was the only one awake and in the living room when you walked into the apartment.

“Hey, glad to see you weren’t kidnapped like Robin thought,” She smiled at you. “How was the trip?” 

“Good,” You said, smiling back. “But, it feels even better to be home right now and not stuck in an airport. I missed my bed.” 

It didn’t feel like the right moment to drop the “break up” news, and plus, you weren’t in the mood to make up answers to the slew of questions that the news would bring about.

“There’s some cookies on the counter if you want them,” She told you and you immediately took a look over at the counter and noticed the clear container. “I tried out this new chocolate chip recipe that turned out really good, and everyone went crazy for them, but I managed to save you three.”

“God, that sounds amazing. I’ll be right back,” You said, heading to your room to drop off your suitcase and then take a quick shower.

You joined her on the couch after grabbing your cookies from the kitchen and didn’t even mind the unsettling true crime documentary she had playing on the TV. It was a moment that was so normal and familiar and just for a second it made you feel entirely at ease. Until you realized that this was how things were going to go now.

Solely back to moments that resembled this one— reality TV nights, game nights, enjoying Talia’s cooking with everyone, moments where none of you could sleep so you stayed up and talked about anything. What your life was before Steve. Back to normal.

That should’ve felt completely okay, but it didn’t, and that really confused you. 

Steve was someone who wasn’t in your life a month and a half ago so what would be the big deal about him not being in it now?

None of what happened this past month was real, you understood that, but for some insane reason, you already missed it. It had been a bad idea, but you missed it. It had been a waste of time for you, but you missed it. You’d felt like an idiot because of it all, but still, you found yourself missing it. 

It was so contradictory but also so true. And right then, it was hard to decide or even figure out what exactly that meant. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (7/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Having a movie night is a good way to spend the evening with your roommate. If it were not for the wine that loosens the mouth.

Warnings: TENSION, FLIRTING (you've been warned), alcohol consumption, a Charles picture (badly edited), Cars (movie)

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm sitting here like a fourteen year old whose crush admitted to liking her. that's how I'm feeling about this chapter. feedback is appreciated!

"You're kidding me."

"I would never."

Charles sets his wine glass on the coffee table as you clutch yours, though there's not a sip left in it. "How have you made it through life so far?"

You shrug. Charles looks at you with a look like you kicked a dog and insulted his mother. "I never got around to it."

That's only half the truth. Since you moved out of your parents' house, you'd actually had plenty of time to catch up on that sort of thing. But at some point you had decided for yourself that it was too late to get into it in your early twenties, when you should theoretically be out of it.

Apparently Charles doesn't see it that way. He reaches for the remote control and presses a few buttons until first a castle and then a bouncing lamp appear on the television in front of you. He then presses the stop button and turns back to you. "Get comfortable, because you're not getting off this couch again until we're done here." He places the bowl of popcorn between you on the couch. "And if you fall asleep, you'll have to watch the movie again."

You pour yourself some more wine and take a big gulp. As some of it runs out of the corner of your mouth, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "Aren't we too old for this?"

Charles raises an eyebrow before pressing the play button. The screen goes black and you hear someone take a deep breath in and out before an off-screen voice says okay, here we go. focus. The grin on your roommate's face grows so wide it almost touches an ear. Speed. I am speed.

"You're never too old for Cars."

Apparently Charles not only works in the car industry, but is obsessed with cars. And even more so with this film. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he is silently moving his mouth to speak along with every single character while you sit next to it, eating popcorn and drinking your wine. 

The beginning of the film doesn't particularly captivate you. An arrogant car with no team spirit as the protagonist. For sure he would make friends in the course of the film and appreciate them and then he wins his race. Very predictable. Even for a children's film. 

All you have to do now is stand there and let me look at you, Lightning McQueen says to the Porsche and you cringe.

"Wow, that's hardly bearable." You put a piece of popcorn between your teeth and wash it down with a gulp of wine. 

Charles, who has slid down a little further on the couch, looks at you. "Lightning or the whole movie?" He reaches for his glass on the table. 

You spread your index finger from the glass and point it at the screen. "Lightning. That was so slimy. Like anyone would fall for that." As Sally embarrasses the hell out of the red speedster, you thrust your fist into the air enthusiastically. 

Charles laughs. "So you're not into that sort of thing to seduce you?" He sips his wine, you shake your head. He props himself up on the seat with one elbow, resting his head in his hand, and stretches his legs out in your direction so that he's almost completely on the couch. He dangles the wine glass casually in his free hand. The film pauses. "How else can you be seduced?"

If you hadn't caught the phone call this lunchtime and the conversation with Joris, both of which involved a woman, you might think that Charles is flirting with you. That maybe he sees more in you than his roommate and friend. And if your ex-boyfriend hadn't spoiled your mood before - or generally not crossed your life - you'd go for it, too. 

You glance at Charles. He has taken off his jumper sometime after the second glass of wine and thrown it towards the dining table chair, so that he is lying next to you in his shirt. The strands of his hair stand on end after running his hand through them several times and his cheeks are slightly flushed. His green and otherwise alert eyes seem a little misty, almost certainly due to the alcohol. 

And his smile. God, his smile is so crooked and beautiful and his dimples give him something childishly cheeky that makes your heart beat a beat faster. 

Is he cute?, you hear Vicky's voice in the back of your mind. 

Damn cute, even. 

'Definitely not like that,' you finally answer his question, lowering your gaze towards your wine glass. If your mind is already drifting like this, maybe you should stop drinking. 

"How then?", Charles asks, his eyes fixed on you. 

Unsure, you look at him. "Why do you want to know?" Inwardly, you command your heart to give it a rest. Just because he asks doesn't mean he needs the knowledge for himself.

"Well, maybe one day a guy will come along who doesn't know how to approach you. And then I can give him a hint, if you want," he explains with a shrug, before taking a big sip of his wine and emptying his glass. 

You try not to let on how much his answer hits you. Somehow you hoped he would want to know that for himself, in case he decided to approach you at some point. But apparently you haven't been listening to Charles properly for the last few hours. 

That's what friends are for, after all. 

You're my friend. 

For not being a good friend to you. 

And friends who live together fight in between. 

Inwardly you slap your forehead with your palm. The wine is definitely to blame for your thoughts. 

"When you remember little things," you finally answer Charles' question and set your glass down on the table, which Charles seems to take as an invitation to top up, and before you can do anything about it he has refilled your glass. 

"Little things?" Charles lies back in his comfortable position and eyes you. 

You nod. "Yes. Like the fact that I think peonies are much prettier than roses, or that I prefer muffins to cupcakes. Little things like that, that define me." You shrug. "It just shows that the person has been paying attention and cared about me."

Charles nods, and you think he glances briefly at your almost empty wine bottle before reaching for the remote again. "Good to know."

The film continues and you decide that little blue Guido is your favourite character. As Lightning McQueen pulls yellow Betsy across the road and chats to Luigi and Guido, you raise your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Kind of strange to hear Formula One mentioned."

You notice Charles stiffen beside you, but his gaze remains forward. "Why?"

You reach - despite your brain vehemently telling you not to - for your glass. "Well, it's an animated film and the fact that Formula One is mentioned makes it kind of real. Although it's not. You know what I mean?"

"Do you watch Formula One, then?" asks Charles a counter-question, without answering yours. By now he is looking at you, but you can't interpret the expression on his face.

As you shake your head, he seems to relax a little. For whatever reason. "No. I used to watch it with my grandfather. Back when Michael Schumacher drove for Ferrari. We watched every race and cheered for the red team." You take a sip. "I lost sight of it at some point."

"Do you think you'd still be a Ferrari fan now if you'd stuck with it?" your roommate asks. Why he's so interested in it, you don't know. 

You point to the two Ferrari fans from Cars and smile. "Isn't everyone a Ferrari fan somehow? Even if they're not?" You turn back to the film and continue sipping your wine. 

Which is definitely not the best idea, because it seems to cloud your thoughts and loosen your mouth, because when Lightning decides to help Radiator Springs, it just bursts out of you. "Lightning is hot."

Charles, who has just taken a sip, chokes and nearly coughs his guts out. When he has calmed down, he looks at you, distraught. "Excuse me?"

"Yeeeees." You turn a little in his direction and pull your legs to your chest. You're sitting opposite each other now, except that Charles is lying down. "Not so 'wow, I'd like to fuck him'-hot. But his vibe makes him hot."

Charles wiggles his eyebrows. "I was once told I looked like him."

You have to laugh out loud, and you reach into the popcorn bowl once and throw it at him, laughing. He's not that quick to open his mouth to catch the pieces, but he gathers them up off his shirt and puts them between his teeth, grinning. 

"Why are you laughing like that? Someone actually said that once! Don't you believe me?"

You realise that the wine has gone to your head, because you can hardly stop laughing. You can hardly breathe and tears spring to your eyes, which you wipe away with the hem of your jumper. Your stomach hurts and you force yourself to breathe in and out deeply. "No, I believe you. But Lightning is just hot, and you're cute. There's a difference between the two."

Your sober self, which is napping somewhere deep in your brain, startles from its slumber and would love to slap you for it. 

Charles cheeks turn even redder and somehow the hem of his shirt seems very interesting because he rubs it between his thumb and forefinger before looking at you. "So you think I'm cute?"

This time he is quicker and catches the piece of popcorn you throw in his direction with his mouth and chews on it with relish. "Oh, come on. I'm definitely not the first one to say that to you," you try to somehow talk your way out of it. "I'm probably just the first to say that without flirting with you. My statement is to be considered purely objective."

"Objective, then?" He sits up a little straighter. "What would it look like if you were flirting?"

You put your wine glass down on the table and decide to actually let it go for today. You've definitely said too much, which you'd almost certainly regret tomorrow, and just thinking about how weird things might get in the morning makes your blood rush to your ears. So you reach for the popcorn. "I'm not doing that to you."

Your roommate raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Why? Are you that bad?" he quips.

You shake your head playfully. "On the contrary. I'm so good at it, you'd fall in love with me instantly," you joke, and have to grin, but Charles doesn't return it. 

"Don't worry," he replies without taking his eyes off you. "It takes more than that to make me fall head over heels in love with someone."

You'd love to ask what exactly it takes, but why should you care? You're friends, he's made that clear. And you should definitely get it through your head. In your drunken estimation, the line of friendship you're walking right now is clearly too narrow for your liking. 

You purse your lips and watch the film in silence. The mood has changed, no longer as easy-going as it was a few minutes ago. You would like to say something, but you don't know what, so you sit still. 

When you reach the point in the film where Lightning pushes the King across the finish line - against your expectations - to finish third in the Piston Cup, you can't stop the sob that leaves your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye you see Charles looking at you. And then all the dams break.

"How can a film about cars - about cars, Charles - make me cry like this?" You wipe away your tears. "This isn't normal. What's the point? It's a movie for kids, for fuck's sake."

Charles' smile is gentle. "No swear words, please. The film is my favourite."

"The film is first class." You try to breathe but hiccup as a result and Charles has to laugh slightly. "Oh, shit. Do kids even understand how important the message is? That it doesn't matter if you win or not as long as you do the right thing and have your friends around you?" 

"There are two more parts, by the way. We can watch those too if you like," Charles suggests and he looks a little offended when you shake your head and get up from the couch. 

"Let me process this movie first and then we'll see." You grab the empty wine bottles and glasses to take them to the kitchen. Charles grabs the bowls and you put the dishes in the sink. Neither of you would manage to wash them properly yet and with a single glance you silently agree to clean up the rest of the living room in the morning. 

You go together to the bathroom where you get ready for bed. You are brushing your teeth when your gaze catches his in the mirror. You smile at him. "But I would love to watch the films with you. I had a lovely evening, if that wasn't clear." You spit some excess foam into the sink. "Thank you for that."

Charles sticks his thumb in the air and washes his mouth out before answering you. "Anytime." He places his toothbrush in his cup. "I haven't had this much fun watching a movie in ages." As he looks at you, his gaze goes through your skin and bones. "Thank you for forgiving me. I couldn't bear it if you were angry with me."

As he combs his hair with a brush - yours - you rinse out your mouth as well. It's so mundane the way the two of you get ready for bed next to each other, as if you've grown up together and not as if you've only known each other for exactly one day. This familiarity between you should feel strange, but you have to admit yourself that nothing has ever felt better. 

"I don't think I can stay mad at you for long." You tie your hair into a braided pigtail, which takes a little longer than usual because of the wine. "I like you far too much for that."

You don't wait for his answer, but leave the bathroom, grabbing your camera and phone for a moment. "Do you have your AirDrop on?" you ask him. "So I can send you the photo."

"Oh, yeah. Hang on a sec." He rummages around among the cushions on the couch for a moment until he pulls out his phone and taps away on it. You look at your screen, and see "CL iPhone" flashing up. You press his name and the picture your camera automatically sent to the phone app is now sent to Charles. He looks at it for a moment. "I look so good."

"Don't get too carried away," you laugh and move towards the bedroom door while Charles gets his bedding from the wardrobe in the hall. You watch him for a moment as he gets his things ready. "Good night, Lightning."

His smile is so gentle you could melt. "Good night."

After closing the bedroom door behind you, you slip into your sleeping clothes and climb under your duvet. With your phone in your hand, you lie down on your side. You release the key lock and Charles' picture appears. 

He is right. He does look good in it. 

Just as you are about to plug your phone into the charger and put it away, a message pops up on the screen. 

CL iPhone would like to share a photo

Surprised, you click on "Accept". 

You giggle and think about sending a picture back, but don't. "You can sleep in your bed tomorrow," you shout across the flat and receive a "Thank you!"

Grinning, you snuggle into your pillow and force yourself not to stare at the picture he just sent you. It's almost cheeky how he can still look so good after such a long day and a bottle of wine. 

You put your phone next to your pillow and turn onto your back. To cope with this situation, you have to draw clearer lines. And lock away the thoughts that are running around in your head in between. 

You have a crazy ex. And there's something going on with Charles too, although you don't know what exactly. It definitely wouldn't be the right time for either of you to develop feelings for someone. And as often as he's referred to you as his friend, you want to spare yourself the shame of falling for someone who doesn't want you. 

You put your forearms over your face. 

You have known each other for twenty-four hours. How can someone be so etched in your mind after such a short time? 

You blame your emotional state on the wine, close your eyes and try to think of something else. Of cute penguins, puppies, sheep. But the thoughts circle and circle and always find their way back, as if they only know this way. 

Always back to Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.

next part

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part fourteen

authors note: this one is loaded, and there are some hints/tidbits spread throughout, but also.....please don't hate me. 😭

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 12k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

Bianca: Hi. I know you asked for space, and I will respect that. I just want you to know I talked to dad. I made him be honest with me, and I know the truth now.  I completely understand if your decision is that you want nothing to do with me. But please know, I had no idea, and I would love the chance to be in your life. I am not our father.

Bianca: It may have started with him, but it can end with us.

Rereading the text for what must be the 18th time, you feel just as conflicted and confused as you were when you first received it a few days prior. It’s been a bit easy to ignore it, to let it sit unanswered as you focused on getting as much work done as you could before leaving for Vegas. 

Thankfully, as the game is on a Sunday, you, Callie, and Alexis got an early morning flight to Vegas where you were met by Joe at the airport. After Callie had her sweet meltdown at seeing Joe again, the three of ya’ll met up with the twins, Trin, Kaylah, Jon’s wife, and the rest of the kids at the hotel.

You were a little nervous about Callie meeting her other cousins, as you know kids don’t always get along right away. But all anxiety is melted away the minute Callie and Jon’s daughter, Ellie, bonded over a common love of Disney. It’s a wrap from there, so much so that Callie feels comfortable enough to be left with them while you and Joe leave to get your tattoos.

Your current location. 

“Let's play a game.”

Joe’s suggestion is greatly appreciated because it pulls you away from hyper-fixating on this text and just what to do with said text. However, it’s also questioned because what the hell kind of games do people play at ya’ll’s big ages?

“Joe, we are too damn old for games—but what is it?”

He laughs at your quick change of tune. He must know that inner competitiveness never really goes away, even if you haven’t been in that competition space in literal years. “I'm gonna show you a house, and all you have to say is either you like it or not. But, you can't ask any questions.”

“A house? Like an actual house?”

“Yes, baby. An actual house.”

His sarcastic tone doesn’t help. Asshole. “And I can’t ask you any questions about a literal house we’re thinking of buying?”

“Yup.” 

Pouting, you murmur, “This game sucks.”

“Okay, Callie.” He messes around on his phone, giving a couple touches before he hands you his phone.

You nearly drop the damn thing, mouth ajar in awe. “Joe, how much—”

“No questions, remember?”

Sucking your teeth, you continue to scroll, each photo evoking another level of wonder. The house is stunning and huge. A literal mansion with landscape and design that looks like it was ripped right out of a luxury HGTV special. Swiping through the photos, each allow you to see that the beauty is not only matched but in many ways exceeded on the inside. A massive kitchen with two ovens, spacious bedrooms, almost equally large bathrooms, movie theater room, a separate building in the humongous backyard that you could easily see Joe turning into a personal gym, and so much more.

You really focus on the outside photos, eyes softening. “She's always wanted a backyard….” It's so easy for you to imagine Callie running around freely, swinging on a swing, maybe even helping you tend to a garden you see more than enough room to plant.

You can see yourself in this house.

“I like it,” you finally answer. There's no need to lie to him, and you're pretty sure he could tell you love it based on your facial expressions alone. “Now can you tell me how much—”

“Nope.”

Sitting up, you shove on his shoulder. “Come on, that's not fair.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Leati.” You can't remember the last time you called this man by his first name. Years, most likely. You used it sparingly, far and few in between, mostly reserved for moments like this when he was pissing you off. 

“You can complain all you want. I'm not telling you shit.” That only irks you more, and he’s indifferent to your obvious irritation, which pisses you off even more. If anything, he sounds almost amused at your frustration. “I'm gonna ask the realtor to arrange a tour. You can ask her then.”

Suspicious, you accuse, “your ass will probably tell her not to tell me or to lie.”

“Maybe.” 

It’s the fact that you know that’s something he would do too. “So my name wouldn’t be on the house? Is that what you’re saying?”

At that, he looks your way, clearly confused but mostly offended. “Of course, it would. Your name will be on everything. I just can’t give you too much information now because you’ll push back and say it’s too much.”

“So, it is expensive,” you conclude. He sighs, heavily. “Joe, we don’t need anything too extravagant or over the top. You know I’m not materialistic like that. I don’t want you feeling like you have to—”

“How many times do we have to have this conversation?” There’s a hint of irritation in his tone, but it’s not entirely unwarranted. Joe has told and showed you multiple times that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you and Callie. It’s just you being…..well, you. “Anything I do for you, anything I do for Callie is because I want to. You should know by now that I’m a man who won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Sitting on his words, you answer, “I know.” And you do, you’re just so damn slow in actually accepting this. “I’m sorry, I just—I’m stubborn. You know this.”

“Yeah, well get un-stubborn.” His hand on your thigh gives a teasing squeeze but before you can inquire about just what kind of alone time you two will have over this weekend, a man walks out, heavily tatted, dressed in semi traditional Samoan attire and wearing a friendly smile.

Joe stands up to greet the man, introducing him as Mike. It’s a name you’re familiar with as you recall eons ago when Joe would rave about his tattoo artist and the man’s insane talent. 

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It’s both strange and welcomed hearing Joe introduce you as such, like it’s almost too good to be true, even if there’s not an ounce of reluctance in his voice.

“Nice to meet you,” you greet, accepting his handshake. “And for getting us in on short notice.”

He waves it off. “Joe’s always welcomed here anytime and as his girlfriend, so are you.”

It stands out to you just how many people speak so highly of Joe. You've always thought he was a genuinely nice guy, but hearing it co-signed by others definitely shows what a gem you’ve got. “Great design choice, by the way,” he compliments, directing his next question toward you. “Joe mentioned you were a bit nervous about the placement….”

“I think I’m good now,” you answer. Tattoo pain is temporary, but placement is forever. You especially don’t want to “settle” for something that has so much meaning. “Same placement as his, but he can go first.”

Mike laughs, clapping his hands together. “Sounds great. Let’s get started.” 

________

You’d completely forgotten how extremely frustrating it is to get ready to go clubbing, and understandably so given at your big age, that’s not really a thing. However, Alexis absolutely refused to accept your decline to go out with her and even convinced Trinity and Kaylah to tag along. 

The bitch even took it upon herself to bring an outfit for you, knowing you definitely didn’t pack for this kind of outing. 

And while the dress is definitely fire, it’s a pain to get on given the cutouts and need to clasp the chest part. Not to mention, your arm is still a bit sore from the tattoo. Granted, Callie’s excitement at seeing how both you and Joe got her name tatted on you was more than worth all the pain. 

This dress though….it’s not worth shit.

“Fuck.” This was so much easier two bra sizes ago, but between trying to hold them together and clasp the hook on the dress, you’re just about ready to call it a night before the night can even truly begin. Settling frustration aside, you grab the robe off the counter and slide it on as you stick your head out the door. “Babe?”

His deep voice replies seconds later. “Yeah?” 

“Can you come help me with something real quick?”

“Mommy,” Callie groans, and you can only imagine the scowl on her face. She loves spending time with her daddy. “We’re playing.”

Your lips curve into a smile, assuring her, “it’ll only take a second, baby.” 

Joe walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“I need you to clasp my dress for me,” you explain, removing the robe and holding your breast with your forearm. “I’m gonna hold them up, and I just need you to—what?”

His eyes slowly travel up and down your body, but his overall gaze reeks of confusion and a level of disapproval. “Where’s the rest of it?”

You’re not stupid, very much aware of what he’s asking. But, you’re also stubborn, a fact he’s well aware of given the fact that you talked about just that this morning. “The rest of what?”

His answer is simple. “Your outfit.”

Muscle twitching in your jaw, you attempt to divert the conversation. “Come on, everyone else is almost ready—“

“I’m serious.” 

Huffing, you slap on that sweet, teacher voice and bring your hands to his chest, allowing your breast to fall open and freely. It doesn’t miss you how his gaze moves downward and lingers. “Joe, I love you, but you met me post-college. Trust me, this is tame compared to what I used to wear clubbing. And we both know I’m gonna wear what I want, regardless, so I just need you to swallow that annoying ass male pride, which I know you will, because you love me enough to do so, and just strap my titties down for me, okay?” Leaning up to kiss his cheek, your finger moves in a figure eight down his body. “Besides, when I get back tonight, you get to rip this same dress off me, bend me over this very same counter right next to us, and make me watch as you fuck me, hard, from behind.”

Your sex drive has always been on the higher end, but it’s been even more intense in the past couple days, and while your last few intimate encounters with Joe have been more loving and sweet…..that’s not what you need right now. 

You need this man to fuck you in the way only he can. Choking, spanking, biting, a tad bit of degrading, hips bruised from how tight he holds you with backshots that have you speaking in a different language. The whole nine yards. 

Your words paint such a vivid picture that’s clearly too far out for his comfort as his hands move to your ass, squeezing roughly. “And what’s stopping me from doing just that right now?”

God has a cruel sense of humor because before you can even fix your mouth to respond, the very reason why makes her presence known. She knocks on the door with all the irritation in her little body. “Daddy, are you almost done?”

Eyes twinkling with mischief as you step back to hold your breast together, you remind him. “that is why not. You’re on daddy duty tonight.” Joe doesn’t say anything and instead finally hooks it for you. “Thank you.”

“At least pull it down in the back or something,” he grumbles and actually tries to pull down the back of the dress.

“Baby, I have an ass. It’s gon’ shift right back up as soon as I move.” Sure enough, one step is all it takes for it to roll up just a few centimeters below your ass. Unlocking and opening the door, you beam at Callie. “He’s all yours, baby girl.”

“You look so pretty, mommy!”

“Thank you, baby.” You lean down for a kiss on her cheek right as Alexis walks in. Callie goes to lead Joe back into the “living room” area as Alexis welcomes herself into the hotel room. You’re not even gonna bother asking how she got a key. Her dress, unlike your all black little piece, is sparkly, short, and strapless. It’s very much Alexis.

She gasps. “Girl, that dress is fitting and your boobs are sitting.” 

Winking and lifting your breasts, you laugh, complementing, “you look amazing.”

“Duh. I’m me.” She brushes her shoulders before peeping past you to say hi to Joe and Callie. “Hi, future brother-in-law and part time child.”

All you can hear is Callie asking Joe what a part time child is as Alexis grabs you by your wrist and starts dragging you toward the door. “Come on, Trin wants us to do a TikTok before we leave.”

Instantly, you’re scowling. “A TikTok? Girl, we are too old for that.”

“I swear, you act like you’re 75 sometimes,” she dismisses, walking you out the room and across the hall to the other room where Jimmy and Trin are staying. You’re still impressed how they all managed to get rooms not only on the same floor but literally all across each other.

Must be a rich people thing.

Walking into the room, you see Trin and Kaylah are dressed a bit more modestly then you and Alexis, not as much skin showing but still very much giving club vibes. 

Compliments are again exchanged among the four of you, but Kaylah is the first to say, “girl, I’m surprised Joe didn’t have nothing to say about your outfit.”

Chuckling, you inform, “he tried, but he knows I don’t play that. I’m a grown woman. Imma wear what I want. Besides, I know how to shut him up.” 

What’s implied doesn’t need to be explained but not according to Alexis who of course blurts out, “that’s right. Sitting on your man’s face will do it every time.”

“Please excuse her. She ran out of her Lithium.”

“Ehh, they tried that. Didn’t work for me.” It’s the fact that she’s probably dead serious too. “Okay, now which trend are we doing, Trin?”

Trinity's smile, like everything else about her, is bright and beautiful. “I was thinking the Wanna Be one by Meg and Glo.”

Instantly, you know Alexis is sold. “That is my damn song.” She then points to you. “This one needs to go last though, because when I tell you that thing moves like water. This bitch can twerk like Megan.”

One thing you’ve never been is a liar, so you can’t find it in you to call bullshit on Alexis exclamation. You’ve always been super flexible, courtesy of cheer, and twerking has always come a bit natural to you. But, it was really when you started hitting up the strip clubs in college and made acquaintances with the strippers that you learned all of the tricks. 

However, it’s also been years since you last stepped out on the town, and your joints start to hurt from just sitting too long, so the hype may be a little bit undeserved after all.

“That was also before I had a baby, Lex.”

Alexis brushes off your downplay. “She can even do the hand thing. You know, where you put your hand in between your ass cheeks while you still shaking? Iconic.”

Studying her closely, you realize why she’s so amped already. “You pre-gramed, didn’t you?”

She presses her lips together and then goes into denial. “I plead the fifth.” Laughing, she tugs on your arm. “Come onnnn.”

“Fine.” Caving to Alexis is typically the best outcome because the bitch is relentless when she wants something, especially when she’s already tipsy. 

However, Trinity seems just as excited as she directs the three of you to the bathroom where she already has the phone propped up and everything. 

It ends up being a fun time that reminds you so much of those days back in college where you and Lex and a few other girlfriends would spend a damn near hour taking the “perfect” photos for the “gram” and even longer to come up with a witty caption. You even show off a little bit of your twerking skills, nothing too crazy, much to Alexis chagrin. 

Arriving at the club and being escorted to the VIP section, courtesy of Alexis, the ladies order a round of drinks while you settle for a simple bottle, never glass, of water. After your whole fiasco during Christmas, you can’t see yourself sipping even a glass of wine for a while.

It’s a nice blast from the past but also suddenly a bit irritating with how noisy and boisterous everything is. The club is packed, and you’re grateful to be seated up and away from everyone else. While Alexis starts to get her buzz going, Trin partially surprises you by asking for your approval to upload one of the videos to TikTok and a photo to post on Instagram. It’s only partially surprising, because Trin has always been a real one. 

You agree and even helping her with a caption. 

Something bout’ that melanin ✨

Pulling out your own phone to check in on Joe and Callie, you’re surprised to see you have a bunch of IG notifications. This leads to you realizing that Alexis, at some point, posted a couple of photos she made you take on your profile. She even took it upon herself to come up with a caption that makes you both chuckle and shake your head. 

ya favorite athlete’s favorite athlete 😌

It’s not a huge deal to you, as you’d went ahead and made your Instagram private again a couple months prior. It’s a feature you toggle on and off, knowing that only the people you want knowing and seeing your page would even know how to find you. However, with Joe being back in your life and having a few posts with Callie’s face in them, you lean on the side of caution and just plan to keep it private from here on out.

It’s the comments though that really make you pause. 

@user1 omg y/n!!! That body been giving, sis! 

@user2 HA! Always was that girl. Still that girl. Miss you, cuz!

@Mariaaahhhh___92: This really how you wanna do this?

@BigLexPurr: Say it louder for the BITCH in the comments before me. I mean, in the back. 😃

@user3: If only I looked like that after having my baby lmao You look amazing, Y/N!

@RomanReigns Damn straight.

With all the swiftness and quickness, you block Mariah, not needing or wanting her and Alexis to get into a whole spat under your post. But Joe’s comment is definitely one that takes you for surprise, and you wrestle with whether or not you should acknowledge it but eventually decide to do so with a simple reply. 

@yourusername @RomanReigns 😘

You make a mental note to roast his ass for being in your IG comments like that but put your phone away when WAP comes on. Of course, it’s only appropriate that the four of you rap along to every iconic, spiritual lyric spit by Meg and Cardi. Alexis even influences you into doing a little twerk on her that she absolutely captures on Snapchat.

You don’t even need to ask her to know she’s gonna waste no time in sending that over to Joe. How she managed to get him to accept her add on Snapchat is something you’ll never understand. 

“I need some more drink, but I don’t want to get up,” Alexis whines, shooting you the puppy dog eyes.

“Gee, why don’t I—”

“Thank you, friend!”

Shaking your head, you make your way out of the VIP and through the crowd to the bar. Placing the order, you wait patiently, praying that what you know is bound to happen doesn’t happen. A waste of a prayer, because that unwanted happening appears in the form of a crooked smile, bad haircut, and height that can’t exceed 5’9.

He just leans back against the bar, as if waiting for you to, of all things, acknowledge him. That makes you laugh aloud. The fucking irony. 

You decide to take the lead and dead this thing before he can run whatever play he thinks will work on you. “No, I don't want or need you to pay for my drink, and I don't need anything put on your tab. I'm good.”

His smile doesn't deter. If anything, he looks even more intrigued. This was always the part you hated about clubbing. Men who can’t seem to conceive that you “playing hard to get” is actually and really just complete and utter disinterest.

“Oh, you more than good, ma.” His gaze resting on your chest much longer than what's appropriate is both irritating but expected. Men see titties and lose all sense of self-control, the little that some actually do possess, that is. “I'm just trying to see how good.”

You were over this conversation before it even started, hence your readiness to put an end to his fruitless hopes and your irritation.

“My man is 6’3, 287lbs and fights niggas for a living.” Tone both bored and casual as you list off basic facts, you ask, “He's home right now watching our 6 kids. Still wanna do this?”

It's the way his eyes go wide that makes it hard for you not to laugh. That should definitely do the trick. “Naw, I'm good. You fine, but you ain't that damn fine.”

“That's what I thought.” Taking the Martini from the bartender, you saunter your way back over to your section and hand it to Alexis.

“I take it homeboy was trying to take you home.”

Chuckling, you nod. “But, I handled it.”

“Oh, I'm sure you did.” She then turns to the group. “This one was always vicious when turning down bums at the club.”

“Cause sir, why are you talking to me with your uneven fade and height that starts with a 5?”

Trinity and Kay fall out laughing, but you’re dead serious. You’d been called arrogant a couple of times, but it never really affected you because you know you just have standards and refuse to settle.

And clearly…..it worked out.

“I really wish we could do this more often,” Kay suddenly shares, and it takes you a bit by surprise. There was a level of trepidation regarding meeting Josh’s wife. You know they’ve been together since they were in high school, which means there’s a good chance she knows Joe’s ex-wife. A chance they could be friends.

And if she’s anything unlike Mariah, she wouldn’t want to chop it up with the woman who slept with and had a whole baby for her friend’s husband. But so far, Kay has been nothing but kind, a bit on the quiet and reserved side. It’s an interesting dynamic considering Josh is anything but. 

“Do you live in Florida too?” Alexis suddenly asks, sipping her Martini. When Kay nods, Lex slaps you on the arm. “Well, this one will be moving there probably before the end of summer, so maybe ya’ll can link up more often.”

Intrigue paints both Trin and Kay’s faces, as the former asks, “seriously?”

“Yeah, umm, Joe and I were actually looking at a house earlier.” A thin layer of excitement re-emerges as you reflect on the photos you saw. You really do like that house, but it feels so much like a dream, like the expensive houses you look at and critique on Zillow knowing damn well you can’t afford them. 

And you can’t, but he probably can. 

You know he can, or he wouldn’t be showing you in the first place. 

“How do you really feel about moving?” Trin questions. “You still live in your hometown, right?”

“I do.” It’s a valid question, one you, if you’re being honest, sometimes go back and forth on. You know you want to move and ultimately will, but there are still some moments where you feel a bit unsure. It’s to be given, you’re sure, as change can be difficult. “There’s a lot of things I’ll miss, like being away from my mom, but….I want to be with Joe, and it’s what’s best for Callie.”

“She really is a sweet child. You did an amazing job with her.” 

Kay’s compliment warms your heart. “Thank you….that means a lot to me.” Callie is your pride and joy, so to hear others speak highly of her, of how you raised her thus far will always be the best kind of compliment. 

“You’re a teacher, so you’re off for the summer, right?” Trinity suddenly asks. Nodding, she continues, “you and Callie should go on the road with Joe this summer then. Maybe not the whole summer, but a portion. It’ll be fun. I’d love to have ya’ll, and you know he would too.” 

It’s a suggestion that you find yourself actually considering. Outside of PD, which can be done virtually with some prior arrangements, there really would be nothing stopping you from tagging along. Callie would be ecstatic, and something tells you Joe would too. 

Kay then shoots Trinity a look that you can’t quite decipher. “isn’t he….” 

As if awareness dawns, Trinity mutters, “oh, shit, I forgot.” 

Understandably curious, and always uncomfortable with being kept out of the communication loop, you inquire, “what?”

Trinity looks a bit nervous but then answers casually, “Oh nothing, I just forgot they’ve, uhh, gotten a little strict now about family coming on the road. Something about it being too distracting for the wrestlers.”

Alexis seems as skeptical as you are. There’s something they’re not saying. “Isn’t he literally like the face of the whole company? I feel like if he wants them there, then they’ll be there.” She has a fair point. “Look how he takes time off to come fly and see them.”

That actually brings on a question you’ve been wondering about for a while. Directed to Trinity, you ask, “do you know if he gets in trouble for that?” Trinity looks a bit unsure of how to respond, and you know immediately it’s because she’s trying to figure out how much to say. “The truth, please. I can handle it.” 

With a heavy sigh, she relents, “Jon mentioned Joe said something about them talking with him, but I get the sense Joe told them to fuck off. Professionally, of course.”

You’re not sure how to feel about this. The last thing you want is for Joe to risk all of his hard work for you. And you know it’s more for Callie than anything, which you get, but he still has contractual obligations he needs to fulfill.

“I can tell you this…..they can say what they want, but Joe doesn’t play about you and Callie, so he gon keep hopping on flights as much as he needs to.”

“He was really happy when he found out about Callie,” Kay adds in a soft tone with a kind voice. “I remember overhearing him talking with Josh, and he told him, “she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Crying in the club definitely wasn’t on your agenda for this trip, but here you are, trying to blot your eyes with the back of your hand. “Ya’ll, I didn’t wear waterproof mascara. Don’t have me out here looking like a racoon scaring folks off.”

Alexis chimes, “Joe won’t mind. It’ll keep him from coming up in here beating some poor soul’s ass for trying to holler at you.”

Kaylah snorts. “She’s not too far off. All them fools are super protective and territorial.”

“I’m just trying to figure out when ya’ll are gonna stop being selfish and slide one of them my way. It’s obvious they fertile as hell, so there’s gotta be an eligible cousin or uncle or something.”

It’s the fact you know that Lex is dead serious. Thankfully, Travis Porter comes on and that’s enough to bring all of ya’ll back to your feet like you’re 21 all over again. And that’s the dominant and recurring theme of the entire night: dancing, laughing, talking, Alexis being unhinged. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The four of you end up returning to the hotel shortly before midnight, the perfect time as somehow, the guys got all of the kids down for bed and were just waiting to make sure you all returned safely. 

Sitting around one of the hotel rooms, you all just chop it up, sharing various stories, no one really tired enough to call it a night.

“See, that’s the thing that people don’t realize. Ain’t a whole lot of difference between Joe and Roman. Uce been had that dog in him.” Jon starts off, sitting up as he explains. Somehow the topic landed on when they were growing up and how Joe’s always had “parts” of Roman in him. “Like one time when we was kids, we was playing a basketball game and he showed up late talking about “aye, let me join.” We tell him, ‘sorry man, we already started.’ He takes the ball, chucks it over in the neighbor's yard, talking about “ain’t nobody playing now.”

There’s a chorus of laughter, but your jaw drops open as you look at Joe, an easy task as you’re perched on his lap. “Did you really do that?” It’s almost inconceivable to see this man do something like that, especially as a child. “Joe, that was mean as hell.”

It’s the fact that he doesn’t deny it and simply shrugs. “Should have let me join in.”

Covering your mouth and shaking your head, you go to scold him for being such an ass, regardless of how long ago it was. But, Alexis soon adds in her two cents, looking your way. “I don’t know why you looking shocked and disappointed, you weren’t much better when we were in college.” She then directs her attention to the group. “So, we were cheerleaders, and Abby Lee Miller over here was a total nightmare during competition season.”

Gasping, you sit up, Joe’s big arm locked around your waist to keep you on him. “I was not.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a drink before admitting, “girl, I love you, but you were a bitch when you were in competition mode.” This is the first time you’re hearing this, so of course, it takes you by surprise. You won’t deny that you could be a bit…..intense during the season, but as captain, there was a shit ton of responsibility on your shoulders. Someone had to take the lead. “There’s a reason we had a whole group chat without you called, ‘Deliver us from Y/N’.”

“You had what?” This is news to you. As far as you were concerned, you had a great relationship with your teammates. It’s why your head coach let you take charge so much, especially in your junior and senior years. “Because I was doing my job?”

Alexis continues, ignoring your questions which is both annoying and predictable. She loves to tell a good story. “She’s the reason I’m hoping and praying Usher doesn’t perform More. It was the song for our Nationals routine, and when I tell you she was on us like goddamn slaves. That routine was hard as fuck, and she ain’t care one bit. It was hella good, like she choreographed the shit out of it, but it was so technical and draining. Bitches in the corner vomiting during practice, and she like ‘get a bucket and keep it pushing.’”

All eyes land on you, waiting for a response, but it’s hard to retort the truth, so you settle on justification. “Okay, that was their fault. I told ya’ll not to eat an hour before.”

Alexis claps her hands as everyone else around laughs. “I rest my case.”

“No wonder ya’ll go together so well,” Josh mutters, taking a drink of his beer. Kaylah slaps his arm but doesn’t say anything in disagreement. 

“What I’m hearing is it’s gon be a two night A&E special. First night? Surviving Joe. Second night? Surviving Y/N.”

Jon’s delivery is really what sells it. You can’t even hold back your laughter. Leaning back into Joe’s chest, you lift up both hands to flip them off. “Ya’ll not gon’ keep talking about my man.” Partially joking, partially serious, it’s not missed upon you how Joe’s deep chuckle in your ear is followed by his fingers innocently moving against the outside of your thigh. 

“You and your man was clearly out here terrorizing people,” Trinity laughs with a shake of her head. “That’s so crazy too, because you don’t give off that energy, Y/N.”

“I’ve calmed down a lot since I had my daughter.” And it’s the truth. Along with age and an extreme respect for your field along with your professional reputation. “But yeah, college Y/N…..she was something else. A little bit of high school as well, but mostly college.”

Alexis makes a sound and then blurts out, “tell em’ about the time you bust that stripper in the head with a bottle, and she had to get 75 stitches.”

Understandably so, there’s a round of shocked expressions and questions following Alexis so casually dropping one of the wildest experiences you had in college. 

You hear Jon ask something about if you have a criminal record, but it’s really Joe giving you that ‘you gon explain?’ look that makes you cave. 

“Oh lord, I can’t believe I’m about to tell this story.” You turn to Joe, warning. “You’re not allowed to hold it against me either.”

“Let me hear it first, and I’ll let you know after.” You know he’s joking, but still, you hit him on his arm. He’s supposed to hold you down, no matter what. Aggravated assault and all.

“Okay, so were at the strip club—”

Jon can’t help himself, asking, “damn, you got down like that?” 

He has no idea.

“You gotta remember, we were cheerleaders, so we spent a lot of time with the football and basketball teams. And they asses was always there, so we would tag along cause why not? I always had a good time. The food was good as hell too. Anyway, I was dating a football player at the time—”

Alexis slaps Joe on the arm. “She’s always had a type.”

“Yeah, ‘ain’t shit’, clearly.” You grab Joe’s jaw, clarifying. “Except for you, baby.” He mutters his approval, and you continue, “so, I was dating this dude, and he was cheating on me, which was fine. I wasn’t really into him anyway. But, turns out the girl he was cheating with was one of the strippers there and a classmate. I don’t know how the stupid bitch didn’t realize who I was before that night, but whatever. I guess she caught feelings for him or something and saw me as the problem? Mind you, I was dating him before he even started fucking her, but she called herself trying to step to me. And she was talking shit, which I didn’t necessarily care about because one thing I’ve never and will never do is fight over a man. Any fight I ever got into was because they said something about my mama or someone else I love.”

“How many fights you done—” Trinity elbows Jon who grunts and then mutters for you to keep going.

Chuckling, you do so, “so she calls me a bitch….okay, but then calls my mom a bitch, and at that point, I’m seeing red. Cause now my food is cold, I was about to get a lap dance that’s not gon’ happen cause now I gotta beat her ass, and all over some wack ass dick. But now she done bought my mama into it….absolutely not.” A beat. “I didn’t hit her first, because I never hit first, but I did say some slick shit that I knew would provoke her.” You decide to leave out exactly what you said given how graphic it was. “And she hit me, but then this other bitch joins in—”

“And that’s when I get involved,” Alexis chimes, raising her drink high and proud. “Because what you not gon do is jump my motherfucking best friend in front of me.”

Laughing, you continue, “so Alexis crazy ass is beating her friend, I’m on this girl, but then she calls herself trying to stab me with the heel of her shoe or something cause obviously I’m winning—”

“This some WorldStarHipHip shit if I ain’t ever heard—” Trinity hits Jon for his interruption and motions for you to continue going, clearly and deeply invested in the retelling of this wild ass night.

“I’m mixing on this bitch, cause one thing about me, I know how to fight. I just choose not to do it.” And it’s true. Fighting is a last resort, always has been for you, but make no mistake, you know how to throw down. “Anyway, I snatch the shoe out of her hand, grab this bottle of Hennesy I see near me and smash it over her head.”

“And it was lights out.” Alexis says dramatically. “That bitch was laid out like a crime scene. Patrick Star headass.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes from your laughter, you continue, “so someone calls the cops. They show up, and I’m starting to get nervous thinking she’s gonna press charges, because I bust her head open. She had to get stitches and everything. But I had made friends with the owner of the club—-that’s a whole other story—and basically, he refused to provide her with any video footage, made sure no one said anything about what happened, was friends with the cops, and they just chalked it up to a bunch of drunk girls being stupid. And I got off.” Clapping your hand to signify the end, you rest back against Joe. “The end.”

There’s a slightly understandable moment of silence before Kaylah calmly asks, “How drunk were you?”

That’s an easy answer. “Oh, I wasn’t drunk.”

“So….you did all that sober?” Trinity asks, like she needs to just make sure she’s following correctly. 

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ and look over at Joe who’s all of the emotions, primarily, amused, surprised, and strangely turned on. “Wild times.”

Jon is the first to speak after that. “Man, I always knew I liked you, Y/N. Your ass a little crazy, but I fucks with it.” 

Laughing, you explain. “You gotta keep in mind, I was like 19 at the time. I was young and definitely dumb in a lot of ways. I’ll be 32 this year and have grown a lot. I have zero desire to put my hands on anyone. I have a child and a career. I may be tempted, but I’m not going to actually do it.  I have too much to lose”

“And that’s why she has me.” Alexis lifts her drink. “I don’t have much to lose cause I’m rich enough to get off. Plus, she’s all boring now. You see how early we’re back. Back in the day, we’d club hop until like 4 in the morning. At least up until Junior year,” she gestures to you with her outstretched thumb. “That’s when this heifer had to get all studious on me.” 

“4.0, Summa Cum Laude.” You make a little pose and laugh. “I just got my shit together, and clearly….” you lean back to look at Joe. “ —it paid off.”

—----------

Obviously, you’ve never attended a professional football game, let alone the fucking Super Bowl, but even knowing that, you’re partially surprised by just how many damn people are there. It’s absolutely jam packed, and you’re suddenly grateful for the security detail that escorts the group of you to your seating area.

Joe holds Callie and keeps your hand in his which impacts you in a strange way that you can’t explain. This whole trip has been him being unabashedly open about you and Callie, and you’re starting to think that’s the part that’s still a bit difficult.

For three years, you felt like some secret he kept hidden and stored away, so to be so “displayed” so publicly is such a stark contrast you’re still trying to sit with. It’s not a bad adjustment, just an adjustment nonetheless. 

The section rented for the group is surprisingly spacious enough for everyone, and you and Kaylah immediately go delegating, having the kids all in the back rows with the men front and center to see the game they’ve been praying for all year. You knew Joe was a huge 49ers fan, hence your not being entirely surprised when you found a box at your apartment door with a bunch of 49ers apparel for you and Callie to pick from for the game. He also, in true Joe fashion, sent you both sneakers with the 49ers team colors of black, red, and gold. 

And one look at Callie as she interacts with her cousins, you can’t deny how adorable she looks, especially as they’re also sporting the apparel because of course his whole family are also fans. Granted, you can’t deny how adorable she looks all decked out like her daddy. You took a more subtle approach, agreeing to the letterman jacket and sneakers, combining them with the 49ers long sleeved crop top and stretch black pants.

There’s a lot of getting everyone settled and you warning Alexis not to make a damn fool of herself, which apparently she’s also dead set on. Something about needing to be ready to be either a consolation or celebration prize for whatever player she was going home with tonight. 

When the game starts though, it’s absolutely fascinating watching how intently focused the men are, not wanting to miss a single second. You’re suddenly really grateful you’d briefly spoke with Callie about how this game was very important to Joe, so his attention may not be on her as much as she wants but that’s okay because he’s just a little busy. She responded well, and you can see how helpful it is for her to be around not only other kids but her cousins.

The ease of their connection and ability to play together is something you’re so grateful for, so happy to see. It definitely makes you even more excited about moving, about her being closer to family. 

That thought reminds you to ask Joe when he wants to talk to Callie about that, about moving. It feels like something the two of you should do together. 

Ironically, you’ve never really been a huge football person, so your interest in the game and who wins is pretty slim to none. You’re there for a good time and, most importantly, Usher’s performance. Kaylah seems to be on a similar wavelength, so while the rest are deeply invested in arguably the most important game of the year, you two engage in casual dialogue. 

She gives you some much appreciated tips on the area, specifically regarding school systems and other resources for Callie. She mentions a dance school her daughter also attends classes at, and that immediately catches your attention cause Callie has given some indications she wants to do ballet. And while you have your reservations, it’s mostly been because of financial reasons.

Not that daddy warbucks over there won’t handle that for you. 

There’s also a lot of photos and videos that get taken to commemorate this moment. Most of which are headed by life of the party, Alexis. You’re grateful though, happy to have her here. She even catches your attention when Callie maneuvers her way over to Joe, tugging on his pants leg for him to pick her up. You start to bring her back by you, but you end up watching Joe pull her up, kissing her cheek as he patiently tries to explain the game to her.

It brings a warm smile on your face, and you use your phone to snap a photo of them. It’s from behind, but the lighting, the way Joe is pointing and Callie following his line of vision, there’s something about it so wholesome and moving.

You set it as your lock screen. 

By the time halftime rolls around, the men are all in great moods given their team is so far dominating. However, you and the rest of the ladies present are in a great mood for entirely different reasons. 

The minute you hear the opening chords of Caught Up, you’re in a completely different world, similar to the happy space of attending concerts in your teens and college days. Alexis is definitely your number one hype woman, but really, Trin and Kaylah are just as lit. The guys are definitely enjoying the show as well, but Usher has been that man for you, so he’s your only focus. 

It only gets exponentially better, and the minute he starts to perform Yeah joined by both Lil John and Ludacris, you and Alexis are shouting out every single damn word of Luda’s iconic verse. 

It’s definitely a moment you’ll absolutely never forget.

Unfortunately, the halftime show seems to be a bit of a climax as the third quarter progresses, and the tide seems to start turning in favor of the Chiefs. Similarly, it’s not missed upon you how the younger kids seem to be slowing down. Callie is definitely ready for bed and understandably so. It’s been a long day and is way past her bedtime. After a brief discussion with Joe and Josh, it’s decided that you and Kaylah will take the younger kids back to the hotel, especially since you both have very little interest in how the game plays out but respect the guys needing to stay. 

And Alexis wild ass most definitely stays behind for….obvious reasons.

Joe, of course, doesn’t let you and Callie leave without a hug, kiss, and telling you both he loves you. A tradition of sorts now, definitely one you’ll never get tired of.

Security escorts the smaller group of you to your vehicles, and by the time you’ve reached the hotel, the younger kids are tapped out. You manage to get Callie out of her clothes, into her jammies, and bonnet on her head before she passes out in her bed. 

Kaylah has a similar experience with her kids, the two of you plopping down on the sofa together. 

“I hope they pull the win. I don’t know if you’ve ever been around Joe when the 49ers lose, but he’s not pleasant. None of them are.”

“I get it,” you chuckle. “I’d be pissed if I paid all that money to see my team lose too.”

“At least we had our good time seeing Usher’s fine ass.”

Laughing, you slap hands with her. “I know that’s right!”

As the laughter dies down, Kaylah gives you an earnest smile. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I really am glad you came on this trip. I’ve heard both the twins and especially Joe speak so highly of you, and they definitely weren’t wrong. More importantly, I think you’re really good for Joe. I haven’t seen him as happy as he is with you and Callie since we were in high school, really.”

“Can I be honest with you about something?” Her kind words make you feel comfortable enough to be forthcoming with her. “I was a bit nervous you wouldn’t like me.”

Her eyes widen. “Me? Why?”

“I guess…..I worried you would feel a sense of loyalty to Joe’s ex-wife, and given how we got together…..

She nods. “I can understand that, but…if I’m being honest with you, I’ve probably had more meaningful interactions with you in these two days than I did in all of the time they were together. Don’t get me wrong, Jadah was super nice and chill, but she never really interacted with us like that. She mostly kept to herself.”

“What was the deal with their marriage?” It feels a bit off asking her, but given she’s known them for so long, she of all people would be the person to ask. “I know….I know he told me they only got married because she was pregnant and that….that she miscarried.”

It’s when you say that she gives you a strange look. “Y/N…..they didn’t have a miscarriage.” Before the shock fully wears off and you can ask her what happened then, she explains in an understandably sad tone. “It was….it was a stillbirth. She was 8 months pregnant.”

Your stomach…drops. That….that’s not what you expected to leave her mouth. Not at all.

Thinking back to that brief conversation with Joe, he never really specified what happened. Just made sure you knew Callie didn’t have a sibling. You’d just assumed a miscarriage is what happened. 

But a stillbirth….your brain can’t even begin to comprehend the heartbreak they must have experienced. To be in a headspace that you’re welcoming your first child for the better part of a year only to have it so cruelly ripped away in such a horrific manner….it’s devastating.

“I didn’t….”

“He didn’t tell you?” You shake your head, and she offers a sad smile. “I’m not surprised. Joe seems very open with you and obviously trusts you a lot, but that….I know that messed him up real bad.” 

Just like finding out he’d missed out on almost five years of Callie’s life. You’re starting to understand more and more why he came at you so hard initially, it was more than warranted but most likely pulling from his prior trauma as well. 

Kaylah continues, explaining gently, “I don’t know…I don’t know if it’s a good idea to push him too much on discussing it, YN. He’s never even really talked about it to the twins, and they tell each other everything. I’m sure he’s never fully processed it. Then again, I don’t know how you can ever process something like that.”

Hearing this has suddenly entirely soured your mood, and you have no ill feelings toward Kaylah. Just the opposite. You’re grateful she felt comfortable enough to be honest with you. You just wish the truth didn’t have you with this dull ache in your chest.

—----------

The 49ers loss hits you harder for reasons completely different than actual fans. It makes you sad for Joe, a sentiment you were already struggling with, to be honest.

Anticipating he’ll be looking for some sort of distraction, especially with Callie knocked out for the night, you try to get your shower finished before he makes it back to the hotel. It’s a wasted effort, because not only does he make it back before then, but he scares the hell out of you when his hulking frame joins you from behind under the steaming hot water. 

But before a single word can leave your mouth, his lips are on you, and you know instantly that he plans to take his emotions out on you in the only way that’s most appropriate. 

Fucking.

Joe fucks you against the shower wall, on the bathroom counter, in the exact way you promised him the night before but couldn’t follow through on because you were tired. He’s rough, rougher than you’ve had him in a while, and while it’s exactly what you wanted, it also saddens you that you know he’s disappointed. 

It’s just a game, yes, but there’s something about a loss at this level that makes it hit deeper. It also doesn’t help that you were already feeling a tremendous amount of empathy toward him after finding out about his loss. 

Body completely used and thoroughly fucked, the end of your sexscapade finds you both, naked and worn out. Your body is draped upon his as his finger moves around lazily across your back.

It’s a comfortable silence when he asks, “was I too rough with you?”

Lifting your head, you give him the strangest look. How long has it been since ya’ll really fucked? He’s clearly forgotten how you get down. “Did you seriously just ask me that? This is me, Joe..” Laying your head back on his chest, you remind him of your only rules in the bedroom. “Unless I’m bleeding or passed out, never too rough.”

Laughing, he flicks your arm as you kiss his shoulder. Changing gears a bit, his expression softens. “Thank you for coming, for bringing her.” 

“You never have to thank me for that.” You remind, because it’s the truth. You’d escort Callie to Siberia if that’s where he was. “But we do need to figure out when we’re gonna talk to her about moving.”

He seems to also remember this is a thing, asking, “how do you think she’ll feel?”

You have to take a second to think about his question. It’s something you’ve definitely considered. Callie has only known your town. That’s her home. What would it be like to uproot her? You finally settle on the best, honest answer you can muster. “I think she’ll be a little sad to leave her preschool friends, definitely my mom but what she wants more than anything is to be a family, so she’ll be happy.”

“Does she know we’re together?”

“I—I don’t know actually.” It’s not really something you’ve thought about until this very moment, just kinda assumed that it was a given. “Well, shit, maybe we should tell her that too.” 

He chuckles. “I’m sure she’s probably put two and two together.”

“Probably so.” Callie is definitely one smart cookie, and it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume she’s realized you and Joe are dating. “Oh, and going back to moving, it’s Florida. Disney is in Florida. That’ll definitely be a selling point for her.”

Joe’s hand moves up and down your side, soothingly. “We’re going the week of her birthday, by the way.” 

Peeking up at him, you double check what’s really obvious but also still so surreal. “To Disney?”

“Yeah.” 

“They let you off for a whole week?” That’s a stunner, for certain. “Coming off a Wrestlemania win? Damn, just how heavy is your pull now?” 

“What?” He seems confused by your question, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. And that’s puzzling to you because there’s nothing confusing about what you’re asking. You know enough about WWE to know how this works. He’s gonna retain at WrestleMania and be subsequently thrust deep in promos and segments. “Oh yeah….I’ve got it handled.”

Waiting for more is a waste of time with this man. He can be so coy sometimes. “You’re not gonna tell me anything more, are you?”

“Nope.” 

“Ass.” His elusive behavior is becoming both familiar and given but still annoying nonetheless. Regardless, you take your turn, switching topics a bit. “Have I told you how proud of you I am? Cause I am. So so proud of you, Joe. I always knew you could do it.” You lift up, biting down on your bottom lip as you push some of his hair back. “You’re gonna hold the record for most main events at Wrestlemania. Beating Hulk’s record. Thee fucking Hulk Hogan. And once you whoop Ken doll’s ass, you’re gonna have the third longest title reign in WWE history. Do you know how amazing that is?”

His hand is on your hip, making soft circles. “It’s not everything….”

Scoffing, you dismiss his dismissal. That is quite literally everything he ever told you he wanted. “The hell it isn’t. I remember every conversation we ever had about this, Leati. Your worries. Your hopes. Your dreams. This is what you’ve always wanted and worked your whole life for.” He’d always been so open and vulnerable about where he ultimately wanted his career to go, the burning desire he had to make it happen, and to see him do just that means the world to you. It should mean the world to him.

But there’s something off about his tone, and you can’t quite make out if it’s because he’s still reeling from the loss or something else. It almost feels like everything you’re saying is going in one ear and out the other because it no longer means that much to him. You know that can’t be the case. Not with how long he’s been grinding and working his ass off. 

His tone and expression are both appreciative as he shares, “I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much your support meant to me. You always knew the right thing to say.”

You lean down to kiss him, nice and slow. “I’m just really good at that shit.” Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly start to snake your hand down his chest. “I’m really good at a lot of shit actually.” Whatever is bothering him, you know one way to help.

A really really good way.

Chuckling, his jaw clenches when you try to wrap your hand around him, fingers unable to connect from his width. He’s already hard for you. “You lock the door?”

You’ve never been so grateful for hotel rooms with bedroom doors that lock.

“Of course.” There’s no time wasted in moving so that you’re on top of him, reaching to align him just right so you can sink down on your favorite pastime. 

“My turn….”

—----------

Someone knocking on your door, loudly, at 11am, just hours after you land back in town wasn’t on your agenda for the day.

You, Callie, and Alexis caught an early morning flight that was difficult for everyone giving how crazy busy the weekend was, but especially for Callie who was already sad at having to say bye to her dad again and was still tired from lack of adequate sleep. 

You’re especially happy you chose to take today off and keep Callie home from preschool. You definitely need time to recover.

But life has a way of lifing. You’re immediately annoyed, looking beside you to see that Alexis is also stirring in her sleep, mumbling something about ‘fuck off.’ Sighing loudly, you stare at the ceiling, almost ready to leave whoever it is outside. But then they knock again, and you know this isn’t someone you can avoid. 

Even if you’re very tempted. Reaching for a robe, you pull it on and tie it around your wait, sliding your slippers on to make your way to the front door. Not even bothering to look through the peephole, you rip it open, ready to curse someone out when you see who it is.

Alyssa’s striking blue eyes are the first thing you noticed followed by the shine of the police badge attached to Officer Austin’s uniform. 

Why the hell is a police officer and one of the town’s social worker at your door?

“Hi….” You have to clear your voice, sleep weighing it down with coarse grit. “Is…is everything alright?” Panic briefly sets in. “Is it one of my students?”

This is the part of being a teacher that guts you, when a child is being harmed or at risk of being harmed and you have to make a call that does both a lot of good and a lot of bad. Alyssa has been the social worker you’ve worked with the most, but this is definitely the first time she’s come to your house about a case.

“Y/N…..” Her expression is grim, and you realize quickly that whatever it is is not good. Not good at all. “We received a report against you.”

“A report?” Your hand is gripping the door so tightly, you’re certain splinters are going to embed themselves into the pads of your fingers. But it’s a much better feeling than what’s starting to grow in the pit of your stomach. “What—what kind of report?”

There’s hesitation, and you understand why when she clarifies. “An immediate danger report.” 

“No.” Your stomach drops. “Alyssa, you can’t—-you can’t be serious.”

Your head is absolutely spinning. This…this can’t be right. A social worker and police officer cannot be standing at your door saying that someone called DCFS on you and made a report that not only is Callie in danger, but she’s in immediate danger. 

You’ve had the unfortunate experience of being the one to make reports, working plenty with Alyssa and the local police to navigate these cases. And it’s in that experience you’ve learned the definition of an immediate danger report and what it requires.

The immediate removal of a child from the accused home and custody.

They want to take Callie from you. 

Officer Austin speaks in an equally sympathetic tone. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ve known you since you were a little girl, and this makes me sick to my stomach. I hate it. I know it’s all lies and a waste of time and resources, but you know the law. We have to—“

However, you’re focused on Alyssa as you know the police are only brought along in case the situation becomes hostile. You have no desire to get physical with law enforcement, but you will get down on your hands and knees if that’s what it takes to keep your baby with you. “Please don’t do this. Alyssa, you know me—“

“I do, and that’s why I arranged where she’ll be released to your mom for custody and I got a hearing scheduled with the judge for you on Wednesday. It’ll only be three days—” If it wasn’t for the pending mental breakdown, you’d be more appreciative. You’d much rather Callie be sent to stay with your mom instead of put in emergency foster care.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to live with that. 

“Oh my god…..” You feel like you’re going to pass out, suddenly aware of Alexis' presence as she too asks more questions about what’s going on and who made this report. She’s, understandably, pissed. But, her last question is a no brainer. 

There’s only one person you know who would have a motive to do something like this.

“Three days without speaking or seeing my child! You know how attached she is to me, Alyssa!” It’s also in your experience with these types of situations that you know zero communication is allowed between the child and parent being accused until the emergency court hearing takes place. 

Three days without being able to speak to Callie….pain like this should never be allowed to be experienced. It’s a nightmare turned into reality. 

She truly looks remorseful, and you know she finds this just as ridiculous as you. “My hands are tied Y/N.”

Voice low, you finally ask, “what are the accusations?” If an answer was given to Alexis, you didn’t hear it, and regardless. You need to ask for yourself.

“Y/N.”

You repeat, no room for argument or refusal in your tone. “What…are the accusations, Alyssa?”

She swallows, answering in a low tone. “Child endangerment. Specifically….you’ve been accused of leaving Callie unintended to meet men for sex, and the accusation that made it immediate danger….is that you plan to prostitute Callie.”

It takes everything in you not to projectile vomit right on the spot, as you move your hand to your stomach, bent over. There aren’t enough words to describe your disgust and revulsion. 

Alyssa starts to provide more basic information regarding getting Callie back, but it's a waste of time.

You know this. You’re more than well aware of how this process works. Just never in a million years did you think you’d be involved in one of your own.

Absolutely defeated and crushed, you ask, “let me talk to her first, please.”

“Of course.” 

Alexis stays behind to follow up with additional questions that you’re partially paying attention to, but the majority of your focus is on staying upright. You could throw up and pass out on cue at this very moment. That’s how overwhelmed you feel, but the second your shaking hand opens Callie’s door, it’s an even bigger battle.

She’s still sleeping. 

Your sweet, innocent child is still sleeping, probably trying to recover from all the festivities from this weekend. And you have to wake her up. You have to wake her up to undoubtedly break her heart.

“Oh God…..” Hand on your stomach, you take three, big, deep breaths to settle your nervous system. Callie can’t see how much of a wreck you are. That’s only going to make it worse.

Sitting on the side of her bed, you clench and unclench your hands to minimize the shaking before gently pushing on her shoulder. “Calista, baby, I need you to get up.” It takes a couple of times, as you knew it would because you know your child like the back of your hand. The child who you would never do anything to endanger or any of the other egregious accusations made against you resulting in this nightmare.

Eyes blinking open, you chuckle at the pout on her face.

“I’m sleepy, mommy….”

“I know, baby.” You clear your throat, playing off the way emotion catches you, almost exposing the seriousness of this moment. “But…mommy needs you to get up. You….you’ve gotta go by grandma, okay?”

She looks at you, still with that pout and very much still partially sleep. “Can we go later?”

“No, baby. I—” This is inarguably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. “I can’t go with you.”

And this is when you see her pout deepen. “Why?”

“Callie….” Hand on her face, you try to ignore the sound of your heart shattering. “You’re not gonna see mommy or be able to talk to me for a couple days, baby.”

And you knew, you knew before even opening your mouth that her eyes would begin to water that telling her this harsh but necessary truth would cause the reaction you’re starting to see. Her face is reddening, mouth dropped into a permanent frown.

It tears you apart to do this to her. “Baby, please don’t cry. It’s only for three days and—and you’ll have grandma, and—and auntie Alexis will visit you, and I’ll make sure daddy talks to you as often as he can—”

“But what about you? You’re my mommy.” She rubs at her eyes, crying harder. “Why are you leaving me?”

Pulling her into your chest, you swear to her, “listen to me, Callie, I will never ever leave you. Okay? The…the people who make sure little kids like you are safe and taken care of just want to make sure I’m a good mommy to you, o-okay?”

“But you’re the best mommy,” she cries into you, and a sob leaves your throat at that. Callie’s heartfelt tears, the fear and confusion in her little voice. It rips your heart to shreds. You hold her as long as you can before helping her get dressed and

gather a little backpack with a few items. 

You know she already has mostly everything she’ll need at your mom’s already.

Everything except you. 

Alyssa allows you to hold her as you walk down to the police car, but it’s when Officer Austin opens the door and Callie begins to cry, asking him, “please don’t take me from my mommy!” that you break again.

It’s impossible to keep your composure with your four-year-old child begging not to be taken from you. Pulling it together, you kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, reminding her that you love her, and that you’ll see her again before she knows it. It’s the best you can do, it’s the only thing you can do. 

Setting her down on the ground, you crouch in front of her, placing both hands on her cheeks. “Ms. Alyssa and this nice officer are gonna bring you to grandma right now, okay? I promise I’m gonna get you as soon as I can, baby, and no one will ever take you away from me again, okay?” 

She doesn’t say anything, face still full of heartbreak. She hugs you again, holding on tight. “I love you, mommy.”

Voice cracking, you whisper, “I love you too, baby.”

Eventually finding the strength, you break away and stand up to see Alyssa wiping a tear from her eyes. She then forces a sad smile and takes Callie’s hand, leading her into the back of the police car. Even being buckled in, you see Callie continuing to look back at you, sadness morphing with helplessness. 

And that’s the last view you’ll have of your daughter, looking hopeless and confused as to why this is happening. 

But you know exactly why this is happening. 

And you know exactly what you need to do.

“Y/N…..” 

Alexis watery eyes are a brief view you have before dashing up the stairs and throwing open your apartment door. Shaking hands manage to grab you car keys off the kitchen island as you head back for the front door only to find that you can’t march out because Alexis is standing in front of the door. 

“Move out my way, Alexis.” 

“Y/N. You’re upset. Okay—”

Snapping, you shout at her. “Move! Now!”

She doesn’t hesitate to match your energy. “Not until you fucking calm down!”

Snapping, you scream. “She just got my child taken away from me, Alexis! Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m gonna smash her fucking face in!”

Never…..never in a million years did you think Mariah could be capable of something like this. That she could be evil as to call DCFS on you, make up lies so horrific that it sickens you to even think about them, and have your child ripped away from you. Damn what this has done to you. What about Callie? Was she even thinking about how traumatic this would be for Callie?

She’ll be thinking about it when you stomp her head into the fucking pavement.

“Hey! You have every right to be upset, okay? But, this is probably what she wants! She knows they’re not gonna find anything on you, but you go over there and beat her ass, it puts the spotlight on you and then gives them a basis to question your fitness.” Alexis is such a sound voice of reason right now, but it’s hard to heed when your literal heart has just been ripped from your fucking body. “You need to focus on doing what you need to do to get Callie back, okay? Call Joe—”

Joe.

You hadn’t….you hadn’t even thought about him. How can you explain this to him? Explain to him that your child, the child he just found out about not even six months ago is now technically in custody of DCFS because of your friend. Is that even forgivable? Beyond that, how crushing is that going to be for him?

Eyes watering, you shake your head, volume a few octaves lowered. You feel like you’re about to have a panic attack. “No, I can’t—-I can’t tell him.”

Alexis steps to you, placing her hands on your face, centering you. “Yes, you can, and you will. He needs to know, and you need support right now. I’m here for you, of course, but that’s the man you love. You need him.” Her expression then darkens. “And don’t you worry about Mariah. I got that hoe. Believe that. You don’t have to put a hand on her. Imma do it for you.” 

Alexis words do both everything and nothing for you. Granted, you’re not sure if anything will be substantial enough short of having your child returned to your custody or all of this being some sick joke. 

You’re not even sure when Alexis walks away to grab your phone until she’s reaching it to you. “Call him, sweetie. I promise you he’s not going to blame you. He’s going to be upset for the same reasons you are: because this is all bullshit. But please, Y/N, just….call this man.”

Finally taking the phone, she nods with a small smile. She then goes to remove her earrings and pull back her hair. “I’m gonna go curb stump this hoe.”

Alexis goes to the back, and you just stare at your phone. You once thought calling Joe to tell him about Callie’s existence would be one of the hardest phone calls you would ever have to make. 

God, you were so wrong. 

Trembling fingers tap on the phone to bring up his contact, and with tears streaming down your face, you hit call.

Whether for better or worse, he doesn’t answer, forcing you to leave a voicemail message. 

“Hey.” It’s a fruitless and meritless effort to keep your voice strong when you feel anything but. “I–I need you to call me as soon as you get a chance….please.” Hitting end, both you and the phone drop on the floor. On your knees, you finally release the sob you’d been holding in for the past twenty minutes. Moments later, Alexis is besides you, comforting you.

Not that it does any good. 

There is no good left.

Only pain.

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Epilogue

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: Eighteen months after you and Colt have declared your love for each other, there's just one thing that could make life better — actually getting to spend time together.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: You know I couldn't resist a little epilogue for these two :D I hope this brings you all as much joy as this series has brought me, and I appreciate each and every one of you who has taken the time to read and/or respond to this story. Thank you :)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. The steps leading up to the apartment have never seemed so long, and Colt honestly can’t clear them fast enough so he can get home to you.

Home. What a word. What a feeling. Colt Seavers has had a home before, but home has never felt so warm, so kind, so welcoming as the one he shares with you. And his soul is at home wherever you are.

It’s been eighteen months since he confessed his love for you on the airport greenway, eighteen months since the two of you started a relationship that has weathered all sorts of trials. Lengthy separations, serious injuries, art-related frustrations, meddling outsiders — sometimes it seems like the whole world has conspired against the two of you.

And still, you are his. You choose to be his every day. Your love has never wavered, and his love for you has only grown stronger as you’ve shown him what it means to be beloved.

Colt still smiles to remember the night he proposed. The two of you had barely been officially dating for four months when he couldn’t stand it another minute and asked you to marry him. You were slightly less impulsive about the idea — you took a full two seconds to agree and ask how soon you could get married. Neither of you had ever been more sure about anything than knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together.

Marriage hasn’t been easy all the time. Colt’s work takes him all over the world, and yours keeps you busy 24/7. Sometimes weeks will go by without you getting to spend time together, and sometimes the moments you can steal are spent simply falling asleep on each other’s shoulders. You and Colt have learned to treasure every second you get to spend together, hoping that one day, you’ll have all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s company. Colt feels a flutter of excitement knowing that time may come sooner than you think.

For now, though, both of you have a full two weeks off from your different jobs. Colt’s latest movie finished filming yesterday, and you’ve been done with your latest Broadway set design job for three days. Colt has been on a plane for the last fourteen hours and is bone-weary, but all he can think about right now is getting through that door and seeing your smile.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. Colt hits the top of the steps, and the hallway is flooded with soft golden light as you fling the door open, clearing the distance between you in half a second and throwing yourself into his arms with a beaming smile that makes his heart feel like it will burst with joy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, the two of you are snuggled together under a blanket on your couch, listening to the gentle night rain outside. You’re both thoroughly worn out — you had three weeks’ worth of catching up to do — and now you’ve both settled in for the simple pleasure of basking in each other’s presence.

You sometimes catch yourself wondering if this could all be a dream. Is it possible that you could actually be married to Colt Seavers, world’s greatest stuntman and the kindest, most dedicated man you’ve ever met? The way he showers you with his attention, the way he is so intentional about demonstrating his love for you, all his unconventional ways of letting you know he’s thinking about you even when you’re hundreds of miles apart… sometimes, it feels too good to be true.

The past three weeks haven’t been easy. You always miss Colt when you’re both far from home on jobs, but this past separation has seemed to last an eternity. Every night, you fell asleep longing to be with him, and every phone call, every text message seemed so inadequate to express how much you missed him. You’ve found yourself craving a time when the two of you will be able to spend every evening this way, wrapped in each other’s arms and unworried about anything else in the world.

Like this moment. He’s almost asleep, his cheek resting against the top of your head while you’re curled up in his arms. In these quiet moments, listening to his steady heartbeat and enjoying the abundant amount of heat he manages to give off at all times, you’re tempted to wonder how any life could be this sweet.

The two of you have been good for each other in more ways than one. With you in his life, Colt has started showing more caution in the stunts he performs. He’s still the same fearless daredevil he’s always been, but now he takes a few extra minutes to make doubly sure he’s safe when he leaps off a building or dives straight into a pool of dark water. It’s amazing how a person starts caring about themselves a little more when they know someone else cares for them.

Colt isn’t the only one changed, either. Before, you never thought twice about staying awake for three days straight to finish an elaborate set piece, or going without meals for a full day, or obsessing over a job almost to the point of a nervous breakdown. Colt has made it his mission in life to check on you throughout the day and make sure you’re taking care of yourself, and somehow you’ve made it a habit, too.

With your head tucked under his chin, you feel Colt stir slightly out of his sleep. You start to shift away to give him more room to stretch out, but he just wraps his arms around you tighter and smiles down at you.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

Your heart swells with gratitude at his simple ways of saying I love you. “I missed you, too,” you reply, reaching up a hand to thread through his hair. He sighs and closes his eyes at your touch.

“So, what are we going to do with our two weeks off?”

You hum in answer to his question, pretending to think it over. “Actually, I was thinking about just getting a ton of work done in advance,” you tease him, grinning at the way his face warms into a smile. “Just locking myself in my studio, working all hours of the night…”

“That’s fine,” Colt tells you mildly, reaching one hand up to stroke down your arm. “I was actually planning to work, too. Your car is seriously lacking in scratches and dents. I thought I might borrow it to practice for a car chase through the neighborhood.”

You lean forward to press a kiss against his shoulder. “While you’re doing that, I could repaint your truck with some psychedelic decals.”

“I could also work on smashing through windows in the living room.”

“At least put down a tarp first,” you instruct him, your kisses gradually working up his shoulder to his neck.

Colt grins and tilts your head up with his fingertips. Your lips meet in a sweet, unhurried kiss that makes shivers travel the length of your spine. Even after all the kisses you’ve shared, the feeling never grows old for you. His lips are soft, gentle against yours, his arms holding you close to his chest.

“I don’t care what we do,” Colt whispers against your cheek. “As long as we have the chance to do this anytime we want to.”

You smile and nod in agreement, relaxing into his arms and letting your head fall onto his shoulder. The rain continues to fall steadily outside, the soft lamplight cascading through the windows and casting a golden shade over Colt’s skin. The contentment and warmth of this moment envelopes you, but something still tugs at the back of your mind.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask softly, wondering if Colt is still awake to hear you. “Being apart so often for so long?”

Colt senses the hesitation in your voice and lifts his head to look down into your eyes. “Does it bother you?” he asks. You’re touched by how serious he sounds.

“Not terribly,” you answer honestly, not wanting to sound as forlorn as you’ve felt the last few weeks. “It’s hard sometimes, but it makes catching up even more fun.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Colt smiles. He doesn’t ignore your question, though, and he pushes himself up so he’s sitting up straight beside you, tugging you over so you can sit up on your knees and face him. He takes both your hands in his. “I don’t know how much longer,” he tells you. “Are you trying to say you’re ready for a change?”

“Not necessarily,” you say carefully, caught off guard by how serious he suddenly seems. “I don’t think either of us is ready for that. But to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. Being able to see you every day, both of us coming back to the same place every night…” You hear the wistful note in your voice and try to curb it, not wanting Colt to feel any pressure from you.

But he finishes your sentence for you. “...spending evenings together like this instead of with a goodnight text across the country.”

You nod, realizing that Colt has been feeling exactly what you’ve been feeling. “No matter how much I love designing sets, I get so tired of sleeping in hotels and only seeing you on video calls.”

“I know,” he says, reaching up to comb some stray hairs behind your ear. “Me, too. I thought about it more this last trip than ever before.”

You beam a relieved smile at him, suddenly feeling like you’ve released a huge burden just by sharing your feelings with him and knowing he's been going through the same thing. “Maybe we should start thinking about a new arrangement,” you reply softly.

“Are you suggesting divorce?”

You laugh out loud at his serious tone, and Colt laughs with you as he pulls you into a hug. “You are so ridiculous,” you say through a grin. You give him a peck on the cheek, thinking the conversation is over now that you’ve gotten that worry off your chest, but Colt surprises you by disentangling from your arms and launching into another serious tone.

“What do you say to this,” Colt proposes. “One more job each, and then we think about going into business together?”

You sit bolt upright at that. “Going into business together?” you echo in surprise. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“What, you’ve never heard of married people going into business together?”

This is almost too much to process. “Colt, you’re a stuntman,” you remind him. “I’m a set designer. Those aren’t exactly compatible professions.”

“They could be very compatible if we started a joint venture as movie consultants,” he insists. His eyes are beaming with pride, and suddenly you realize that this isn’t a spur-of-the-moment suggestion from him. “That way, any company that hired us would put us on the same jobs, and we could each do our separate thing on the same sets. I could be a stunt consultant, and you’d be an art consultant. We could expand it as we needed to.”

Colt’s grin is infectious, and you impulsively reach out to frame his face in your hands. “Am I crazy, or does it sound like you’ve put some thought into this?” you ask in disbelief.

“I already told you, I missed you,” Colt shrugs. He takes your hands in his, then flips one over to kiss the inside of your wrist. But you’re not finished asking questions.

“What do you mean, ‘stunt consultant’? That sounds dangerously like you’re thinking about a career shift.”

“Not necessarily,” he continues, using his fingertips to trace the inside of your wrist now. “It’s more of a way I could pick the jobs I want instead of being Tom Ryder’s faithful shadow. Plus, I’d have the chance for more of a stunt coordinator job one day.”

You’re amazed at how much thought he has put into this idea, as well as how it so perfectly solves the problems you’ve been wrestling with for the last three weeks. “I thought you weren’t interested in climbing the ladder,” you counter with a smile.

“I never have been,” Colt admits, still swirling his fingertips over your inner forearm. “But if it means I have to be away from you all the time, I’m willing to take a little leap.”

“How long have you been thinking about all this?”

“Not long. I ran into Dan Tucker on this last set. He gave me the idea for the joint venture.”

“Remind me to send Dan a bouquet of flowers.”

Colt grins wide at that, and he leans forward to close the distance between you, pressing a gentle kiss into the corner of your mouth. “Does that mean you’re interested?” he murmurs.

“I might be,” you say, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “If I think I’d be compatible with my future business partner.”

“I can arrange for some compatibility exercises.”

You smile at his response, sliding your arms around his neck as he moves to pull you into his embrace again. “Will there be a fee for training?”

“No charge,” Colt mumbles against your jaw.

“Good benefits?”

“Lots and lots of benefits.” His lips are moving down to do something wicked to the skin of your neck, but you pause him briefly by lifting his head up to meet his gaze. His dark blue eyes are focused on you with the intensity that melts you every time you see it.

“Let’s do it,” you declare, hardly daring to believe that this perfect idea could become a reality. “I don’t know how, but let’s make it happen.”

Colt gives you a smile that seems to brighten the entire room. “You got it, da Vinci.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Believe me, it’s good to be home.”

Colt demonstrates his statement by pulling you into his arms and dipping you back so you’re laying across his lap. You laugh and pull him down to your level, resting one hand on the back of his neck while he kisses you. His kiss is gentle, almost mischievous somehow, as if he’s already planning his next move to surprise you.

“I suggest a two-week vacation right here,” you say breathlessly when he finally lifts his lips off yours. He kisses the tip of your nose as you continue, “I don’t care if we don’t do a single thing, as long as we’re together for all of it.”

“Mmmm, now you’re talking,” he tells you in the husky voice that always sends goosebumps over your skin. Another kiss, this one on your forehead. “But I bet we can think of lots of things to do.”

“You think?” you ask slyly, and your smirk prompts Colt to gather you up in his arms and stand, an impressive show of strength even from him. Your grin widens, and you capture his lips in a kiss that leaves you both heated and flushed. This is worth all of it, you think. All the lonely nights, all the uncertainty — it all fades in the heat of his gaze, this man you love with every fiber of your being.

“Definitely,” Colt replies against your lips, and you can feel his smile even through the words. “In fact, if we’re going into business together so soon, we’d better get started on those compatibility exercises right away.”

[mosaickiwi]

Home Away From

I love hopeless agony almost as much as tooth rotting fluff??

Post-kidnapping Angel adjusting (badly) to the new normal.

might do a part 2 where it gets even worse idk ← my last words before i get thrown out of the plane

Kidnapping, imprisonment, codependency, etc.

proceed with caution

Eyes straight forward, you had to keep yourself occupied fiddling with the edge of a couch cushion. Every single one had a few loose threads from how often you worried away at them. 

Twelve… thirteen… fourteen neatly aligned book spines on the lowest shelf behind the dark haired man kneeling in front of you. A full, hardcover collection of your favorite webcomic, each book signed and dedicated to you. Maybe you'd force yourself to read them all again. For the third time since your arrival.

"Angel."

It was hard to keep track of how long you'd been here—in this house far removed from Corland Bay, with everything you ever wanted in a forever home. All those wild, fantasy-ridden dreams you joked about with Ren, and then [REDACTED], were true now.

And yet your supposed fiancé carried you over the threshold of that forever home kicking and screaming. 

"Still not talking?"

His hand reached for yours, fingers gently lacing between your own before you eventually pulled away. You saw their real reaction in the corner of your vision. By now, you knew him as obsessively as he knew you—there wasn't much he could hide anymore. The pain in his blue eyes lingered for too long this time.

It hurt. You hated to see that look on his face. But you hated being trapped here so much more than that. Why couldn't he understand?

Realistically, a silent treatment would get you nowhere. A few hours had turned to days, then weeks, and he was still soft-spoken and doting towards you. There was hardly a difference in the man you proposed to, and the one that bolted the front door shut from the outside on the few occasions they left for supplies.

You were too used to domestic life, too docile compared to that first day—sometimes you'd lose yourself and forget you were a prisoner. All your old hobbies still occupied your days while he sat nearby, and it just felt natural to include the only person you ever saw. To call his name and read a passage from a book aloud for him to laugh, or casually scoot closer to him for warmth during a movie.

Those moments when you forgot felt like they could slot in between all your old memories with ease.

"I'm sorry, love. I only wanted t'keep you safe," he whispered.

His breath almost tickled your legs, followed by the feel of his forehead resting against them. The urge to brush a hand through their hair—an innocent gesture you did at least daily back home—hurt just as much to ignore.

Were it not for their words of apology, even now could've been another memory. Who could fault you for falling into habits of comfort with the one who lived for you, and you alone?

The silent treatment was the best you could do.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Tired and disoriented, you woke up alone in your bedroom. The pink haired plushie you normally cuddled had disappeared somewhere, probably tossed to a corner of the room in your fitful sleep. Your usual replacement for a space heater was nowhere to be found, either.

Had he stayed up late? You called their name. "Ren?"

A muted commotion in the hallway outside, then the door creaked open. "Angel?" your beloved hacker answered back cautiously.

"Are you coming to bed?"

There was no response for a long moment. But soon enough, his familiar footsteps sounded against the floor.

You sat up and pulled the blanket to the side for them. As he settled in, you cuddled close, resting one arm over their chest while your head laid in its rightful place atop his shoulder. You managed to lean up and find their lips for a quick kiss before closing your eyes.

Though you couldn't see his face, you imagined the blush that painted his cheeks at every piece of affection you gave. With the thought fresh in your mind, you drifted off.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Hours later you woke again, your rest this time far more peaceful in their embrace. A pitiful, lazy groan left you as you stretched, then opened your eyes to greet your partner.

[REDACTED] was silently looking down at you, propped up on one arm. 

You reached up to cup his cheek and smiled at him. He leaned into your touch like always, but their usual loving gaze was laced with hesitation. As if waiting for something. Anxious of what could bother him, your hand followed the line of his jaw down to their neck, past the tattooed heart of your name, and settled on a piece of jewelry. 

Was that correct? It felt off. A long moment passed as you fiddled with it, trying to figure out what was so out of place about that silver chain, until it hit you.

The golden ring was back on his necklace, instead of on your finger where it belonged. Where it used to belong.

Weeks, or maybe even months ago, when they kept you in a careful hold while locking the bedroom door behind them—you'd thrown that ring in his face the second he let you go. 

For all the scratches and bite marks you'd put on his arm, tearing at skin that was already long scarred, he hadn't shown a hint of worry. Not until they bent down to get the ring that hit their chest and clattered to the floor.

It was the same worried face you saw now.

Your hand stilled, and before you could even whisper the words you wanted to yell, he slipped from the bed to give you space. The door clicked shut behind them to trap you in with your thoughts.

How could you be so stupid? Weak? They didn't have to try at all to wear you down; you did it all on your own. He tore you away from friends and family, yet here you were, forgetting yourself to play house with him. Then you took it a step further and let him sleep in your bed.

Nails dug into the pillow under your head, but instead of throwing it you squeezed it tight to your chest. You bit your lip to hold back the tears, glaring down at the empty spot on your ring finger that had only now begun to match the skin around it.

Another foolish dream to pile with all the others.

As much as you wanted to hope they would see reason one day and bring you back home to make things right—a thought far past irrational by now—you had to mourn the life taken from you.

You knew them, you knew them. Always seeking your favor so quickly that any argument quelled before it had a chance to begin, but stubborn when he felt it necessary.

If the first answer was a no… the next one and the next one wouldn't change. You should've accepted it the second he locked the door.

Ren was the only person you'd ever see again.

[thatfandomslut]

All Of The Girls You’ve Loved Before

Gretchen Wieners x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warning: just a bunch of fluff

Request:

Hello, there! I don't know if this request will reach you or not, but I would like to request some Gretchen Wieners x reader fluff please, thank you! Inspired by All Of The Girls You've Loved Before by Taylor Swift

Mean Girls requests are open.

"Who wrote that?" Gretchen wondered, flipping through (Y/n)'s yearbook. The pink ink glistened on the page with red hearts floating around the name, (Y/n)'s name. The yearbook in Gretchen's hand was dated back to their freshman year, but the pink, flowing cursive made her feel ill with the recognizable feeling of jealousy.

(Y/n) rolled over from her back, and looked over at the book curiously. A hum escaped her lips as she recognized the handwriting. "This was back in freshman year when I was dating Emily." (Y/n) said casually. It was one of those fourteen-year-old relationships where you think you will be together forever. Of course, in the long run, it wasn't healthy, and it ended in text and approximately two days in bed before they both had developed crushes on someone new.

Gretchen didn't experience this kind of relationship. She had situationships like Jason's. She couldn't think back to when she didn't have feelings for (Y/n). Even though she's liked (Y/n) since middle school, it was their sophomore year that those feelings started to blossom fully. Then during the summer between their sophomore and junior years, (Y/n) and Gretchen became official. Gretchen almost forgot about all of the relationships (Y/n) had before them.

(Y/n) noticed the thoughtful pout on Gretchen's lips and gently took the book from her hands and closed it. "Gretchen," she called for the girl's attention, smiling a bit when Gretchen's coffee-colored eyes met hers. "You know, if we had gotten together earlier, this relationship wouldn't be as healthy as it is. I had to mature before I got to where I am now. I grew from those relationships in order to be the person I am today with you." (Y/n) said softly, cupping the girl's cup before placing a soft kiss on Gretchen's pout. Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy Gretchen as she kissed back.

Gretchen had realized that (Y/n) was right. They had been friends during all of the relationships (Y/n) dabbled in before they became official. She has witnessed this growth and maturity. Gretchen also grew during that time. Thankful for her words of reassurance, Gretchen pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to (Y/n)'s nose. "I grew during that time, too. I was in a toxic situationship with Jason, and he treated me horribly. You are the first and only person who has ever treated me like a person who deserved a good and healthy love." Gretchen confessed with a soft smile.

"I'm glad I can provide that for you, baby. You genuinely deserve the world, and I want to give that to you." (Y/n) moved to sit up, stretching slightly, her muscles tight from the position she was in on the bed. "Do you want to watch a movie and cuddle?"

Gretchen grinned wider at this. (Y/n) knew her well. Gretchen practically launched herself into (Y/n)'s arms causing the two to laugh as (Y/n) held her close. "Can we watch Clueless again?" She questioned, hoping (Y/n) would agree to this. After all, they watched it once every week. Unfortunately for (Y/n), it was a movie that Gretchen never grew tired of. (Y/n) nodded softly, kissing her girlfriend's temple before flipping on the movie for her. The room's previous tensions were now completely settled as the two enjoyed the movie.

(Y/n) could always appreciate how she and Gretchen communicated their feelings. She knew that Gretchen struggled with the idea of her and her past relationships. And, that was something (Y/n) understood. She heard an earful from Regina about how Gretchen had been crushing on her for years and she needed to 'woman up' and ask her out. (Y/n) was nervous to go out with Gretchen. She had only been in unhealthy relationships before her, but this has been the most amazing relationship she has ever been in. She was determined to spend forever with the honey-blonde girl in her arms.

Gretchen looked up at (Y/n) as she noticed the girl lost in thought. Her focus was obviously not on the movie. "What's on your mind?" Gretchen questioned softly, her hand gently moving to take (Y/n)'s. She always liked to know what was on (Y/n)'s mind. She lived for her girlfriend's thoughts and ideas.

(Y/n) bit her lips with a smile as her cheeks heated up. "Would it be too cheesy if I said you? I was thinking about how lucky I am to be with you. I'm just thankful for you, and in a way, Regina for pushing me to finally ask you out." She confessed before leaning her head back to rest on the pillows behind her. She didn't mean to get caught so zoned out, but Gretchen was someone who was incredibly observant.

Gretchen smiled at (Y/n)'s answer, squeezing her hand. "It is a bit cheesy, yes, but… It's also very cute, and it's nice to hear that you feel that way about me and for me." Gretchen responded, meeting eyes with (Y/n). The action would always take her breath away. "I feel the same way towards you. Also, I'm thankful for Regina, too. I love you." She said happily, leaning up to pepper (Y/n)'s face with kisses, causing the girl to laugh happily at the action.

"I love you, too, Gretchen," she said as her heart felt warm, the fluttering feeling in her stomach returning. It always came when she and Gretchen were acting like this. Both had forgotten about the movie playing in the background once Gretchen's lips landed onto (Y/n)'s. Both of their heartbeats accelerated but they were still in sync. The feeling of love and happiness filled the room as the two kept each other close, as they always did. At that moment, they felt lucky and a sheer amount of love that could end a war. It was evident to the both of them how much they wanted and needed each other, and how important it was to grow from all of the relationships they've had in the past.

[german-enthusiast]

At the moment I’m doing an exchange year here in Germany, I’ve been here almost 2 months but I don’t feel my speaking skills has improved like I excepted. Don’t know if I’m doing something wrong, even if during the day I hear many new vocables they don’t leave a lasting impression on my brain (I don’t if that makes sense) and I’m feeling very often without words to express myself. Idk do you have any advice?

Hello!

I think you have to give yourself some grace. 2 Months is not the shortest of times, sure, but you moved to a different country where you probably knew nobody or only very few people. Arriving takes time, even without the language aspect! It took me a long while to feel I've arrived in my exchange year, much longer than it took to find a routine, to explore the area, to know my way around the school etc.

You say you're worried you're doing something wrong but there's no way to fail an exchange year! You're there to have an experience! To see a different place! To talk to different people! To figure out who you are away from the people and places you've grown up around!

Speaking is a very difficult part of learning a language, because it takes much more courage than the rest. Listening, reading, writing - they allow for more time and passive vocabulary is always bigger than active vocabulary (for natives too!). With speaking, you're bound to be misunderstood a hundred times, to mispronounce something, to forget words. But that is not a personal failure on your part. It's true for everyone learning a language, both one's mother tongue and any foreign language.

You hear a lot more German every day now and don't feel it's leaving a lasting impression - i think that's a very valid feeling but also to be expected. Children hear a million words everyday too, listen to the radio with their parents, see movies on tv, and still they'll still learn the meanings of words only seven, ten, fourteen years into being a person.

My advice would be

- continue trying. try try try, even if and because it will means you will make mistakes. making mistakes is how we learn

- stay curious about the language and words. if you don't understand something but think it is meaningful for you, take the time to understand it later (take a picture to look at later, ask a native about it, allow yourself to find meaning when you have the energy and time). Even if you feel you've "failed" in the moment, you can still learn later on!

- if a word you hear seems to be meaningful to you (meaning, you think it would be a good addition to your active vocabulary), investigate it. Ideally, ask someone to elaborate on it, give example sentences and common occurrences, explain nuances and thenYou use it. Make example sentences, look for where in your life that word might come up and verbalize that. Words move from passive to active vocabulary by being actively used often and thus staying at the ready for you to use.

- whenever you move to grab your phone and google a translation of a sentence or even just a word, stop yourself and try just one more time. Paraphrase, describe, gesture, build new words. If then you're understood and the person listening gives you the words you were missing, they have a pile of meaning to join in your head, probably anchoring them better than a translation out of a void would've. And if you're still not understood, the void is still there for you to help out.

that's all I've got right now but I already know I'll be thinking more about this.

You're welcome to reach out if you've got questions or just need someone to listen!

[klbwriting]

Finally Home - Jason Todd Blurbs

Jason's First Date

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: teenage Jason Todd x teenage GN!reader

Warnings: none, just adorable

Summary: 14 year old Jason is nervous for his first date

Jason was more nervous than he was going out as Robin. Bruce had been coaching him all week. Open the door for them, don’t touch them unless they say its ok, and absolutely do not kiss them without asking. Now he was dressed in his nicest jeans and the black button up he had bought just for tonight and he was reconsidering everything. Should he brush his hair again? It always stuck out a little bit but maybe he could borrow some of Bruce’s gel, or maybe Alfred’s, his hair hadn’t moved in years. No, but maybe the flower was too much? Or was a daisy not enough? Bruce said it was nice but not too nice. Jason heard a knock at his bedroom door, opening it to find Alfred asking if he was ready. It was now or never, and Jason was not one to say never.

“I’m ready,” he said, following the butler to the garage where Bruce was ready. If only Jason had waited two more years to ask out YN, then he could drive them himself. He sighed and got into the fairly standard Sedan that Bruce had decided on.

“Couldn’t we take the Corvette? I want YN to think I’m cool,” Jason asked, his voice almost whining. Bruce just chuckled a little.

“Jason, you want them to be comfortable and the Corvette, while flashy, is not very comfortable,” Bruce said as he drove toward a small neighborhood. He stopped in front of a house and Jason climbed the steps to the door knocking. He smiled at the lady who answered, asking if YN was ready. Then he saw them and they looked perfect.

“HI Jason,” they smiled, coming over and saying by to their parents. He smiled back at them, offering the daisy. “That’s sweet.” They blushed and Jason felt his own cheeks redden. He looked back at Bruce who nodded towards YN. Jason nodded and offered his arm. They took it and he walked them to the car, opening the back door and letting them in first before climbing in.

“Hello YN,” Bruce said as he started driving them to the movies.

“Hi Mr Wayne, thank you for driving me,” they said. Jason was strangely silent, words twisting in his mind. He was so nervous, but lucky for him YN seemed oblivious. “I’m so excited, I’ve wanted to see this movie since the first trailer.”

“Ya,” Jason managed, voice quiet. YN looked at him and bit their lip before looking at his hand. They took it gently and squeezed, making Jason actually relax. They wanted to be there with him, they wanted to hold his hand. This was a date and they wanted to be on this date with Jason as much as he wanted to be on this date with them. “It looks really good.”

The movie went well and YN held Jason’s hand the entire time. By the time Bruce was dropping YN off back at him Jason was much more relaxed. He walked they to their door and rubbed the back of his head, feeling nerves building again.

“This was really fun Jason,” YN said, looking at him. “Can we go out again sometime?”

“Yes, ya, totally, of course,” he stammered out, making YN laugh. He coughed a little to stop his rambling. “Um, YN, I um, well you and me, and um…”

“Do you want to kiss me?” YN asked softly. Jason froze and could only nod. They were blushing deeply but stepped closer to him. Jason swallowed hard and leaned in, kissing their lips softly before pulling back. YN blushed a little and smiled big. Jason reflected the same expression.

“Can I hold your hand at school?” he asked. YN nodded and Jason went back to the car feeling like the coolest fourteen year old in the world.

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

Part Twenty-Seven

My freshman year of high school, I was put into a junior level government class. I was only in there because it was the only class that fit into my schedule other than ag classes I couldn’t have been less interested in. I didn’t talk much in the class because everyone was older than me, and they thought I was a kiss up because i always made good grades. I didn’t particularly love the class, but of course, I still did my work and did it well.

Toward the end of the year, we did a mock trial. We drew for positions within the trial, mr flynn the judge. I drew attorney.

The case was a business lawsuit, I was the lawyer who was going against the business for their supposed cruel acts.

Mr. Flynn told us that we would receive extra credit if we dressed up, so me, a fourteen year old with a desperate need for academic validation, borrowed one of my mother’s pencil skirts and a suit jacket from my dad. I looked like a mini Aaron Hotchner, even my mom said so.

I remember preparing for the trial for at least a week, being a little excited about the project. I wanted to win the case, especially since I was, as I believed, on the right side of the law.

My opposing attorney was Noah Kincaid. He was a smart but cocky kid who also cared about winning the trial.

I remember standing up from my desk when is was my turn to ask questions to the kid under oath. I felt as though I had stepped into myself for the first time. It was just a mock trial that lasted half an hour, but I felt proud and confident. I was good at it.

Mr. Flynn pulled me aside after class and told me I should consider law school in the future. He said, and I quote, “The way you handled yourself was the most confident and concise I’ve ever seen in a student. You surprised me, Hotchner.”

I didn’t take it to offense that he said my skills surprised him. In his defense, he’d only heard me talk when I turned in a paper or answered a question, which the latter was usually rare since I didn’t particularly like to “show off” in front of juniors who already thought I was a kiss ass.

I did, however, take his first sentence as a compliment. I was confident and my statements and questions were concise.

I smiled, nodded, thanked him, then left. A lawyer was not on my top five career choices at the time. I didn’t want people to think I was doing it because of my father. I was definitely not. But after some research and a few binge watches of crime shows, I knew I actually did want to be an attorney. Not because of my father but almost in spite of him.

My dad quit his job as a lawyer and took the job Agent Gideon offered him at the BAU. I resented him for it, still do, but that’s besides the point. He wasn’t around much in my most influential years, and at fourteen, I decided I would be a lawyer, and if I happened to have a family, I wouldn’t take a new job that prevented me from being there for them.

So now, I’m currently four weeks away from grad school and three years away from the BAR. And I’m going to rock the shit out of them both. Because I can and because I’m determined. It’s also way less about my unresolved daddy issues now than it was in high school and even some of college, it’s a dream of mine.

Spencer has made it his mission to make sure I enjoy the last month of summer as much as I can. He’s taken me out on a million dates like picnics, movies, late night drives around the city and out into the country, and more every chance he gets between cases.

At least now we don’t have to sneak around and lie about our relationship. Though I was prepared to keep this from my dad for however long necessary, I’m pretty glad we accidentally outed ourselves at my graduation dinner.

My dad cooked a big meal for me, some family, friends, and we invited the team too. Spencer and I didn’t even sit near each other. We barely talked the whole dinner just to be safe.

But as love-sick, horny couples do, when we saw an opportunity to take a minute alone, we did just that.

Having your father catch you making out with a guy will never not be awkward, but when the guy happens to be his employee, it’s fucking weird.

Though, I will say, the look on his face was priceless. I’ve hardly seen him have that much emotion on his face.

After a very awkward, flushed-face, and stuttered explanation from Spencer and me, we were able to calm my father down. He was a lot more excepting than I expected; I think he finally realized he can’t dictate my life, and he saw how happy we are together.

The rest of that dinner consisted of a lot of teasing from Derek Morgan, my brother being grossed out by me having a boyfriend, and everyone asking about law school.

I’m excited and anxious to start the rest of my life as a law student. I’ve prepared for this for nearly 8 years now, and I’m getting closer and closer to my dream career. It’s terrifyingly exciting. I’m grateful to have my family and Spencer by my side through all of this.

hey, so this is it for this story! this is also most likely it for my fanfiction in general.

and for a little life update: i started college a month ago, and i’m adjusting to my new life which has been interesting and scary and fun. im also in a healthy relationship and have been for a while which has been pretty amazing. i hope all my mutuals/ readers are doing well. thank you guys for sticking around :)

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

[your-local-bookworm]

Forgotten Faults.

PERCY JACKSON × DAUGHTER OF ARES!READER.

Summary: Things get confusing when the son of Poseidon grows an unexplainable liking for a daughter of Ares who seems to be adamant on ignoring him.

Part 2

Warnings: Battle in Camp ?? Reader is hurt. Kampé. I don't know, honestly. Percy is a very confused teenager.

Note: This part is more focused on the battle than Percy and Reader's relationship, because it will only seem realistic as they're not yet very close.

Fourteen year old still, but Percy is preparing for his first real battle. He wonders if it'll be like the ones he watched in movies as a kid or that gory movie he watched with Paul when his mom wasn't home. He hopes it's not the latter.

It was the biggest military operation he'd ever seen at camp. Everyone was at the clearing, dressed in full battle armour, but this time it wasn't for capture the flag. The Hephaestus cabin had set up traps around the entrance to the Labyrinth razor wire, pits filled with pots of Greek fire, rows of sharpened sticks to deflect a charge. Beckendorf was manning two catapults the size of pickup trucks, already primed and aimed at Zeus's Fist. Apollo's and Hermes's cabins were scattered in the woods with bows ready. Many had taken up positions in the trees. Even the dryads were armed with bows, and the satyrs trotted around with wooden cudgels and shields made of rough tree bark. Annabeth went to join her brethren from the Athena cabin, who had set up a command tent and were directing operations. A grey banner with an owl fluttered outside the tent. The security chief, Argus, stood guard at the door. Aphrodite's children were running around, straightening everybody's armour and offering to comb the tangles out of the horsehair plumes. Even Dionysus's kids had found something to do. The god himself was still nowhere to be seen. The Ares cabin was on the front line, drilling in phalanx formation with Clarisse calling orders. He failed to track Y/N, though. Also Grover and ... where's Nico??

It appears all of Percy's friends chosen to disguise themselves. Or not, he spotted Nico exiting the Apollo cabin, followed closely by Y/N. Nico took positioned himself beside the Dionysus kids while she came running up to where Chiron was next to him.

"We're all ready, Chiron." she said, boldness radiating off her like moonlight. It set her aglow. It was a nice thing to remember if he died in this battle. He thought of his mom and Paul, Annabeth and Grover, Tyson, Luke, Clarisse and her. So many lives at risks just because some lousy gods got into a fight with their father... grandfather... whatever.

Y/N took a place beside him. "You alright Jackson?"

"Couldn't be any more prepared for this"

When it began it was unlike anything he'd been in before. But much more like the kid's movies, must be because of the monsters. Paul's movie was only humans and horses. When Kampé attacked the Athena tent, Percy and Annabeth stroke back, but the poison was clouding them both.

"Come on" he shouted "We need help!"

But no help came. Everyone was either down or scared or fighting. And when Kampé took a go at Annabeth, Percy was convinced he'll have to witness his friend die, because Chiron's arrows were too late and so was Percy.

Then a sword sprouted through Kampé and Percy saw your figure emerge from behind. Kampé fell and last of Chiron's arrows hit Y/N instead.

Y/N let out a scream as the arrow bit into her flesh and blood streamed down her arm. Her knees hit the ground splattered with her own blood. Percy's heart plummeted.

"Now" Annabeth shouted, eyes trailing the fallen figure beside her. She rose and almost hit Kampé. Almost. But Kampé was fast and in the next five seconds, Annbeth too rolled onto the ground, crying in pain, with blood pouring from the side of her head

To Percy's great, no, huge .. wait. Provoking every bit of satisfaction in Percy's heart, the next cry he heard was from Kampé as Mrs. O'Leary threw her away like a discarded can of soft drink.

His eyes followed upon Daedalus and Briars the hundred handed one charging into battle

When the chaos deceded and night sky ruled over them, Percy retured to his friends. He was more glad than he can express when he found them all on one piece.

Dinner had no order and class, every demigod sat with their friends and Percy found Annabeth, Grover, Nico, Y/N and a Apollo guy, Will Solace? Will Slice? Will Whatever. Sitting on the Poseidon table. His pride soared but that was before his brain clicked and concluded that the Apollo cabin were treating to everyone and had set up their agenda in the dining space.

He took his short stroll up to Cabin 3's table.

Y/N, Will and Annabeth were indulged in conversation Nico tried to fight of his fatigue while Will bandaged around Y/N's shoulder, the gaping black hole now under protective layers of gauge.

"Not a summer goes by that I don't have to treat your bloody wounds." Will scolded her

"You humour me, Solace. This is only my second summer in camp half-blood."

"And you've got yourself in trouble at least a dozen times. Your arms are all scarred"

"It's because I am a dutiful camper. A born warrior. I wear my scars like badges of honour and braver--."

"You are born clumsy."

"I can still punch you."

"Not with a shoulder like that."

"Hey there everyone?" Percy announced his presence

'He-Hey seaweed brain." Annabeth smiled

"Hello Jackson."

"Hi Percy, now before everything else. You got any injuries I should know about."

"Oh, no i don't " Percy replied, "Could've just taken a shower if I did anyway."

"You know what Will?" Y/N turned to the said boy, "Never thought of it this way, but what if I throw myself in a fire pit and see if it heals my injuries?"

Percy wasn't sure if he's ever seen her joke.

"And what if you don't?" Will replied, tugging the last of gauge around her shoulders. He sat beside Nico.

"You shouldn't, really" Annabeth added, looking genuinely concerned.

"Alright." Y/N shrugged.

"I'll head to my cabin. See you lot later" Annabeth stood up. "Thank you once again Y/N, goodnight. You too Percy."

"Goodnight, Wise girl."

"Goodnight Anne, don't worry about it too much."

Percy turned to Y/N when Annabeth departed, "What were you talking about?"

"Luke."

"Oh" Percy didn't want to think of him now. " Can I ask you something?"

Percy knew he shouldn't. Speaking facts, every bit of conscience that remained inside his head bargained not to. But he did anyway.

"Why do you hate me?" No no no. That came out wrong. He resisted from face palming into the table.

"What?" Y/N stared at him. Similar expressions were to be casted upon the two boys sitting with them.

"You.. you always seem to uh, ignore me." He stumbled upon his words. Not as bad as his heartbeat though.

"The Ares and Poseidon children don't have the best relationship now, do they?"

"It feels more than that."

Y/N remained silent. Engulfed in her thoughts.

"When I first came to camp, last summer. A few week after that, you dropped a wave on me. By the lake."

Memories flooded his brain, that was her?!

"Never apologised." Y/N added.

"I didn't know it was you!!"

"You completely ruined my sketchbook!"

"Unintentionally! I am sorry." Percy was redeemed speechless.

"As you should be."

"I am. Really. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. But if you're looking for a way to pay me back, could you please bring me a glass of water?"

"Sure"

Moments later when Percy came back with a bottle full of water. Y/N was once again engaged in talking with Will Solace. He handed it to her.

"Thank you."

"Thank you too. For saving our heads back there."

"We're all in this together, Jackson."

"So, peace?" Percy suggested, thrusting his hand forward. Excitement erupted in his chest when she took it.

"For now, Goodnight boys." And she walked of i to the night.

"Goodnight!" Will called back.

'Now that is a win." Percy thought to himself on his way back to Cabin 3.

Well, percy and reader are friends now, i do have plans for a few mort parts to this.

[autisticlancemcclain]

parts 1 2

———

For most of Luis’s life, he’s known walking through the faded purple front door of the house he’s grown up in means he will be assaulted by noise. For so many years, he would even hear the sounds of yelling and banging and general chaos before he even made it up the steps. Several siblings tended to to that, he supposes. His key in the lock meant prepare for a whirlwind of motion and sound, for rapid Spanish and crashing sounds of clumsy people walking into each other and the calamity of home.

He tenses, even now, walking through that front door, reflexively preparing for an onslaught of noise that doesn’t come. Even though he struggled to get the key through the lock with one hand, the other holding a tired Lance, he prepared without realising what he was doing, only to become violently aware of the silence as he kicks the door shut behind him.

He freezes, right there in front of the door, keys and diaper bag clutched in one hand, Lancito gently cradled in the other, head resting on Luis’ shoulder and thumb stuck in his mouth.

It has been months, since his parents…since his parents. A new year has passed. A quiet, silent Christmas, locked in their own rooms. He has walked in with a child in his arms, after stopping at the campus daycare for the first time this semester, no different than what he’s been doing for the entirety of last semester. There is no reason for him to have walked into his home and forgotten, however briefly, how empty and quiet their home has become. (It feels, vaguely, like one of the first crisp days of autumn, stepping out of your house in the early morning and smelling the almost-frosty air, and blinking away the sudden memory of October when you were eight. Like the sudden snap out of your past, the trippy feeling of walking up in the present without realizing how far your nostalgia had driven you out of it. Startling and aching, really, the direct comparison).

Lance makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat, startling Luis into action. He starts to bounce the toddler, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he slips off his shoes and sets the diaper bag by the door.

“I know, I know, baby. Let’s go sit down for a bit.”

Lance is very…clingy.

All of them are, in some way. Rachel has just turned fifteen years old, but Luis wakes up to find her curled up at the foot of his bed more than twice a week, driven out of her room by something she refuses to voice. Marco spends every lunch period situated in the school office, hogging the phone to methodically call the rest of them to make sure they’re alive. Veronica cleans, obsessively, sorting through everyone’s things and scrubbing everything she can get her hands on like she can leave her imprint on them for when she’s not there.

“Yes, yes, I hear you.” Lance whines louder when Luis sets him down on the couch, babbling something nonsensical but stern enough on Luis’s direction that he cracks a smile. “Yeesh, do we need that tone? I’m just putting a movie on.”

He nonetheless tries to hurry things up, lest Lance get too antsy and start to cry. Once Finding Nemo starts playing — and Jesus fuck everyone in the household hates that movie so fucking bad, at this point, but it is the only fucking movie that Lance will watch and that keeps him calm — he scoops the toddler back up, collapsing back on the couch and tucking him under his arm. Lance snuggles into him easily, little elbows digging into Luis’ skin as he settles himself, and let’s put a huge, long sigh once he stills.

Luis snorts. “Stressful day at work, pal?”

“Shhhh,” Lance hushes, flailing a hand at Luis’ face area, presumably aiming for his mouth. “Nene. Sh.”

Worryingly, even at fourteen months old, Lance hasn’t really begun to talk. They’ve yet to hear him form any actual words, let alone a real sentence, in either of the languages used around him. But he has several vocalizations for things he wants — nana for food, nene for Nemo, and regular old toddler ‘no’. Lots of ‘n’ sounds. They’re saving up to take him to a specialist, but for now they just try to encourage any sounds he makes that are word-like.

“Okay,” Luis mumbles, kissing Lance’s palm. He hums, distractedly patting Luis’ cheek, eyes trained on the blue of the TV as if it’s the first time he’s seen the movie instead of the three billionth. “I’ll be quiet for Nemo.”

He lets his eyes unfocus on the screen in front of him, mind wandering, slow and lethargic. He can hear the ticking of the clock from the kitchen, almost echoing in how loud it is. It makes him tired, slow; the only time he used to hear it as a kid was on late summer nights, up late, falling asleep on the kitchen table as his mother hummed in the kitchen, making fried plantains with the fruit she’d gotten in the morning market. Lance’s weight is heavy on his side, tired and burnt out as he is, and the ebb and flow of the movie is numbingly familiar, and clock ticks steady. Tick, tick, tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

———

“Luis.” He whines, low and rumbly as something pokes his shoulder. “Luis, dorkbrain, get up.”

He groans, louder this time, cracking open one bleary eye. His eyes burn, contacts dried out, but he can make out the blurry outline of his sister, mouth twisted in a half-smile, grease smeared across her nose.

“Get up, doofus. You left the baby unsupervised.”

The words take a moment to register, but he shoots up in panic when they do. He looks frantically around the room, sighing in relief when he finds Lance sitting quietly in the corner, playing with his toy planes. He’s making tiny little crash noises every time he crashes then into each other, walking one of Rachel’s old Polly Pockets across the scene and giggling to himself.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face as the panic starts to seep from his heart. “You fuckin’ scared me, Ronnie.”

She smirks. “And I’ll be doing it again.”

Luis decides not to tell her about the face grease. He was going to, but now she can suffer for being a dickhead. Maybe she’ll even break out.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

He glances over at Lance again, just to double-check, but he’s still playing happily by himself, so he gets to his feet.

“C’mon,” he says, inclining his head towards the kitchen. “Kids’ll be home soon. Let’s make dinner.”

“Dibs on not doing cooking!” Veronica’s hand flies to her nose, cackling at Luis’ indignance.”

“Hey! Dinner is a shared endeavour! You can’t just dibs on not doing it!”

“Can too, loser! C’mere, Lancey-baby.” She scoops him up, planes and Pollys and all, and lugs him too the kitchen.

“Using the baby to avoid arguments is illegal.”

“Eat my farts, lunch boy.”

“That’s a stupid insult,” Luis mutters to himself, glaring at his sister one last time before turning to the fridge. She ignores him gleefully, picking up a plane and gently crashing it against the one Lance is holding. Instead of any amusement, he looks at her in such comical offense, gobsmacked that his sister would have the audacity to smack around his planes, that the young mechanic’s apprentice bursts out laughing. She hunches over, wheezing, as Lance scolds her in baby-talk.

Rolling his eyes fondly, he turns back to the fridge, finally opening the door and glancing inside.

If his life was a cartoon, there would be tumbleweeds rolling through the white, cooled shelves. That’s how fuckin’ bare it is.

“Well that’s…not good,” Veronica says when Luis fails to say anything.

Luis swallows roughly. “We forgot to budget for fucking groceries this month.”

Veronica hangs her head. “Fuck.” Even little Lance goes quiet, look between them in concern, bottom lip stuck out and trembling. Veronica reaches out a hand and brushes through his hair to comfort him, which kind of works. He abandons his toys to curl into her, thumb back in his mouth.

Luis opens and closes the fridge three separate times, hoping food will magically appear. When that doesn’t work, he wonders if he can make soup out of ketchup, or something. Add onion skin for flavours.

“We’re not cut out for this, Ron.”

She laughs sharply. “Yeah, no shit.”

She opens her mouth again, and from the look in her face Luis knows she’s about to say something dumb, so he beats her to the punch.

“I’m quitting school,” he blurts.

She blinks in shock. A second later her eyes narrow, and her face goes steely. “Like fucking hell you are.”

Luis sighs. He turns, slightly, reaching over and grabbing Lance from her arms. He bounces him gently, leaning in and blowing raspberries onto his cheek so he doesn’t have to look at Vero.

“My tuition eats up half of our funds,” he says quietly. “And the library job barely puts a dent in it. I can’t…if I don’t have as many hours in school, I can get a job that’ll get me money fast, and I can —”

Before he can finish, and before Veronica can argue, the sound of the lock turning in the front door interrupts them both. There’s no giggling, no banter, no even squabbling as Rachel and Marco walk through the door.

There hasn’t been.

Luis would trade anything to have it back.

“Hi,” Marco says slowly, reading the tension in the room. “Everything…okay?”

Luis smiles tightly. “Fine, buddy. We were just talking.”

Marco’s expression flattens. “I’m not stupid, Luis.”

“I know.” A beat. “It’s just nothing for you to stress about.”

Marco says nothing for a moment, staring at Luis flatly, before he tosses his backpack agains the wall and squares his shoulders.

“We are four and six years younger then you,” he starts. Rachel nods resolutely beside him. “We’ve been — obviously we’re not doing super stellar. I know the fridge is empty. And that you cried over the mortgage last night. And we heard you arguing from outside.”

Luis and Veronica look at each other guiltily.

Rachel stares at them, eyes flat and annoyed, fingers pinching the bridge of her noise. She hasn’t spoken in months, but Luis has learnt to read her unspoken — that’s a bitch, please if he’s ever heard one.

“Stop apologizing for stupid shit,” Marco says for her. “We’re not trying to make you feel guilty. We’re trying to say that we can help.”

“Not your job,” Veronica says immediately. “Your job is graduate highschool and develop your brain.”

“Not a single person here is done developing!” Marco explodes. “All of us are still fucking growing! We lost our fucking parents, all of us, and instead of letting us be a part of the solution you’re blocking us out and treating us like babies!”

“Wanting you to be safe is not babying you,” Luis says shortly.

“Oh, did you read that in one of your parenting books?”

Yes, actually. He did. But he’s annoyed that Marco knows about those, so he pretends he didn’t hear like the mature grownup he is.

“Piss off,” he says, like an adult.

“Yeah,” Veronica agrees. “We’re the adults, and we say cool it with the crazy talk.”

Marco glares harshly at them. Rachel joins him. Lance makes a short, cut-off whine, turning to shove his face in Luis’ neck. His hands come up to pat his back reflexively.

“I quit violin lessons,” Marco says eventually.

Luis’ jaw drops. Veronica joins his indignation.

“What?!” she shouts.

Luis feels like something is wrapped around his throat, choking him. His heartbeat pounds in his ears. The desperate hope he’s been clinging too, the goals to get Marco and Rachel and Vero everywhere they want to go in life, come crashing to the ground around him.

“Julliard,” he says weakly. He can’t force his voice to say anything further.

Marco juts put his chin. “They were two hundred dollars per session. I talked to my tutor. She said…” he trails off slightly, voice getting gravelly, but gathers himself again when Rachel grabs his arm and squeezes. “She wrote a reference letter for me,” he continues softly. “Even though I’m only a junior. And she’s apparently been talking to the admission staff since I first started taking lessons with her. As long as I keep practicing every day, she says I have nothing to worry about. But I’ll have time for a part time job, now. On weekends at least.” He locks eyes with Luis. “Don’t fucking quit school, stupid.“

Luis holds his gaze for several minutes. He wants to contest it all. He wants Marco to take his lessons every day and come back exhilarated, like he always used to. He wants Veronica to focus on building projects in the garage in her free time, instead of picking up hours to blow through her apprenticeship as quickly as possible. He wants to hear Rachel’s voice again. He wants Lance to stop flinching every time things get even playfully tense.

But there are things he can get, and things he cannot.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay.”

Plans will have to change. He graduates in a few months, so long as his final courses go well. The original plan was med school, but that’s obviously no longer an option. Not with everything.

But if Marco can adapt, so can he.

“We’ll work things out,” he says, trying to channel his father’s voice. It must work, somehow, because Veronica smiles in that bitter way of hers, that she does when she remembers.

“Of course we can.”

[wishing-on-a-staranise]

tara's fic masterlist

All my work in one place! and if you like them then support them!-- whether its a comment, reblog or even a like! it keeps me going

18+ blog mdni

PROMISE: a stranger things rewrite (gn!reader)

summary: you escaped the lab in 1980 at the age of fourteen and after getting sort of adopted and then fully adopted by hopper along with eleven. and now it's the year of our lord, 1985, the lab still haunts you but you live a somewhat peaceful life with your newly acquired boyfriend. things get a little strange.

LIVING FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL (desi!fem!reader)

Part 1 Part 2 Summary:  a two-parter where your cousin was getting married to a guy in Hawkins, Indiana. While the idea of searching for Bollywood movies in a mostly white town seemed like a fruitless endeavour, you were bored— so, you set foot in family video where you meet Steve Harrington. The cute boy and you quickly become friends. Steve realises that he was falling for you but he also realises that you were only going to be in Hawkins for a few weeks.

WASTING TIME (gn!reader)

summary: its 1986, and given everything that's happening in your town, Steve ends up pushing you away.

YOU, ME, LONELY (afab!reader)

summary: you love steve and steve loves you, but maybe you both wants different things from life

KISS IT AWAY, HONEY (gn!reader)

summary: you have a perfect and loving boyfriend, and everything should be great but something is just not right.

WE'RE WANDERERS, THE LOT OF US. (desi!fem!reader)

Summary: Steve's best friends convince him to travel to a country they know almost next to nothing about for a vacation. so, with clothes in a suitcase, emotional baggage in the carry on and most of the money in their wallet from Steve's dad's earnings and Eddie's recent gig, they fly to India. it is there that Steve keeps bumping into a girl who looks like she has a personal raincloud following her at all times.

[a-roses-wondrous-rain]

“This Pattern Would Make a Cool Pair Of Pants…”

Kennith Simmons. His parents packed up and moved to Michigan, and it was a big change. He left all his (two) friends behind, changed schools, and uprooted his entire life.

Kennith moved the last box of his into his new room, pushing it in. He flopped down onto the mattress on the floor, sighing. He was only fourteen, why did his parents have to move to this weird new town..? Welp, he might as well look around.

The bathroom was slightly bigger than the one in his old house, there was a hall closet full of old housewife looking dresses and fancy looking suits, and a string in the ceiling. Kennith immediately thought of movies with attics, and how he might find something cool. He jumped, barely managing to grab hold of it. Kennith pulled on the string, and out came a folded ladder. After a moment of struggle, he managed to get it all straightened out. Kennith immediately crawled up the ladder, poking his head around the warm attic.

There were old boxes, including an open one. Kennith walked over, glancing at all the dusty boxes before looking in the one he had his eyes on. Inside were tons of old ties. Whoever these belonged to, they sure liked this one pattern… however, Kennith got an idea. He snatched the box, running over to the ladder and tossing it down with a loud thud. Kennith’s mom shouted, “Kennyyyyy, what was thatttttt.” “Just tripped, I’m fine!” He shouted back. Kennith climbed down the ladder, grabbing the box and running back to a room he had seen earlier. He slammed the box down on the floor, ran back to his room to grab his own small sewing kit (mainly the thread), ran back to the room, and turned on the old sewing machine.

“Woahhhh…” Kennith stared at it for a moment before grabbing a piece of old fabric to test. Once he got the basics of the machine figured out, he grabbed the red ties with white polka dots. Then, he hemmed it all together. It wasn’t the greatest, and he had to go back to fix spots where the seam didn’t have enough room, but he was determined to make a cool pair of shorts out of these.

Until he ran out of ties. Now he just had one sad and lonely pant leg. Kennith bounced his leg as he tried to think of something to do. He got up, walked over to his room, snagged a pair of light blue pants, and walked back to the sewing room. He cut them just past the half way mark before trying to stitch the two together. It took a lot of trial and error, a lot of using an old seam ripper, throwing some old spools of thread, before he finally got it.

As soon as Kennith realized he got it. He cut the excess thread and ran to the bathroom to try them on. For his first time sewing shorts, they fit almost perfectly, if not just a little baggy, yet short. Kennith walked out, and tapped his mom on the shoulder. “Hey, look at these new pants I made~” His mom didn’t even turn to look before responding, “uh huh, they look great, dear. Did you start unpacking yet?” Kennith stared at the back of his mom’s head before sighing, “no, I didn’t…” “Then go take care of that.”

Kennith sulked back to his room. He started cutting open boxes, just turning them over and shaking them a bit onto the ground then moving on to the next box. He was startled out of this repetitive movement when he heard a knock on his window. He ran over and opened it, and a girl with blonde hair popped up with a big grin. “Hey, I saw your family moving in!” Kennith’s eyes sparkled. This. This would be his new friend. Kennith spoke, “yep! Wanna come in?” Stephanie Glass, a girl who lived a street down. She took a moment to try and read his lips before nodding and hopping in through his window. This would be a friendship to last a lifetime.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 25

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1356

Masterlist

(I swear I've used every Joe gif I could find...)

Four days in The Netherlands, and I've learned a few things.

One: You don't eat in front of your grandmother. Mostly you don't even try, but the few times you do start to eat something, she will make a comment - though I can't understand what she's saying, I can tell by her expression it probably isn't something nice - and you will quickly put down whatever you were bringing to your mouth. When I ask you about it, you just shrug and say something about old fashioned views.

Two: Your grandfather is very intelligent, even in a language he barely has a grasp on. Also, you get your love of reading from him. All the books in your grandparents' house (there are many) belong to him.

He also knows how to restore old books. He spends about an hour showing off his tools to me after I mention my love of old books. I'll have to show you my own equipment when we get home.

Three: Your grandparents really are like your parents, which makes your aunt and uncle more like your siblings. You try to involve me in your conversations but mostly, when you talk to them, you devolve into fits of giggles and can't get the words out to translate for me what's so funny.

I don’t mind, I'm just glad to see you happy.

I'm sorry to say it this way but luckily, we don't spend all our time with your family.

When I first arrive, you let me sleep for fourteen hours, and then you keep telling me to take it easy. You’re taking care of me, and I don't know why that surprises me. I just can't remember the last time someone bothered.

But with all that alone time we have together, you still don't tell me anything about Mitch.

You take me on a walk past your ‘old haunts’ and he never comes up. Not even when we walk past your high school! It's getting to a point where I just want to ask you about him, (Y/n), but then I'd have to tell you how I know he exists.

On the Saturday before Christmas, almost a week after I arrive, you take me to the old town square to meet up with Nadia.

Even though technically, I've only briefly met her once, she greets me like we're old friends and does her best to involve me in the conversation. She insists the three of us go ice skating on the rink that's set up in the middle of the square, and the two of you laugh at me when I fall flat on my ass.

“I’m glad you two are enjoying my pain,” I complain. Really, I'm not in pain at all.

“I'm sorry,” you say when you're through giggling, skating up to me. You offer me your hand. “Are you okay?”

I pull you down on top of me and Nadia devolves into even more laughter while you just stare at me with wide eyes, our faces inches from each other. This could be a scene from a movie, (Y/n). That's how perfect this moment is.

Still, no mention of Mitch. Even Nadia doesn't bring him up, and I was really hoping she would. I was thinking she might ask you if he's still bothering you in front of me, so I could jump in and ask what's going on. I guess not.

I'm beginning to suspect you must have told her not talk about him, but then we go over to her apartment - which is smaller than your little room in New York - for dinner the next night, and suddenly she says::

“Did you hear about Mitch?”

You tense.

I look between the two of you, acting confused.

“Mitch?” I ask.

“Some guy we went to high school with,” you say, waving me off. You look at Nadia. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“He killed himself, (Y/n).”

Now, you're all ears. Your back straightens and your eyes become alert and you snap: “what?!” only I think you might say it in Dutch. The words sound basically the same.

Nadia begins to rant at you in Dutch, and I am clearly not a part of this conversation.

That bothers me.

I went through all this trouble for you, (Y/n). And you still won't tell me what's going on.

It wasn't easy to convince you I wanted to go on a walk by myself last night. But what could I do? You went to take a shower and you told me to answer your texts if it was Nadia. I guess you didn't think I'd bother to translate texts from a stranger.

But there were so many. Hundreds since the last time I checked, and you hadn't even responded once.

Some were nice, if taken out of context. He'd ask you how your day was going or what you were up to. He'd even ask about me: is your new boyfriend enjoying himself here?

But others… others were horrible. He threatened you. He told you if you didn't respond, he was going to find you, hurt you, hurt himself.

I knew something had to be done.

And I stand behind it. He was a danger to you.

But you don't look happy that he's gone. You don't look sad, either. Mostly, you look angry. Finally, after ten full minutes of Dutch conversation that I can't follow, you turn to me.

“Sorry, didn't mean to exclude you.”

Sometimes, you're a liar.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Something very sad happened,” you tell me. Maybe you don't remember that Nadia said the part about Mitch killing himself in English. “I need a minute.”

You go onto the balcony and close the door behind you. Nadia's windows are covered by foil that blurs the outside world, so I can only see your silhouette. 

I look at Nadia, who sighs.

“Sorry, Joe. I probably ruined your entire evening, telling her that.”

“Who's Mitch?” I ask.

And she says: “he's - he was - a fucking stalker.” She pauses. “You don't seem surprised.”

Shit. I'm so eager for her to tell me more that I forgot to make myself look like that was news to me.

“I saw some texts yesterday. I… put the pieces together. I didn't think it could be that serious since (Y/n) hasn't mentioned it at all.”

“It's pretty serious,” Nadia says.

She tells me the story. In high school, Mitch was in the same grade as the both of you. He got bullied relentlessly, and nobody did anything about it.

“Except (Y/n),” Nadia says, looking out at the shape of you through the window. “She couldn't just stand by. She stood up for him all the time. Of course he developed a crush on her.”

“Of course,” I agree.

It seemed innocent at first. He'd follow you around at school, or sometimes he'd show up when you and Nadia were hanging out in town.

“It got worse, but (Y/n) didn't tell me that at first. It got to a point where, like, he'd show up at her house.”

I shake my head like I don't know what to say.

“He wrote her these long letters, saying he was in love with her and he couldn't live without her. Then this one night, somebody threw a brick through her bedroom window. Of course we knew it was him, but we couldn't prove it. The next time he showed up outside her house, I convinced (Y/n) to finally call the police. I told her to say he was threatening her so they'd actually respond. And, I mean, basically he was.”

“Where was her mom?”

“I don't know, with some boyfriend,” you say, slamming the backdoor closed. “Nadia, what the hell?”

“You wanna just lie to him and act like this didn't happen?”

“If I wanted to, I can't now,” you say, and turn to me. “What do you know?”

“That Mitch stalked you in high school, and you eventually called the police.”

“Right, well,” you say. “Obviously, it didn't end there.”