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#I love this series so much sorry it makes me more emotional than I already am
edenesth · 2 months
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[7:29 PM]
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Stumbling into the shared apartment with Yeosang, you swiftly covered your mouth to suppress any whimpers upon seeing your boyfriend peacefully napping on the living room couch.
After carefully placing your heels by the shoe rack, you quietly tip-toed past his slumbering figure and slipped into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind you with utmost care to ensure he wasn't disturbed from his much-needed rest.
It was only upon reaching the sanctuary of your room that you collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you cradled your injured arm close. It had been a horrible day, marked by a minor accident at work amidst ongoing tensions with your boss and difficult encounters with customers. Throughout the day, you struggled to keep yourself together, merely waiting for this moment to release all pent-up emotions.
As you sobbed into your pillows, the door to the room creaked open, causing you to panic. Swiftly wiping away your tears, you sat up, trying to compose yourself.
"Darling, you're back already? Why didn't you come say hi to me first, hm? I've been waiting," Yeosang's voice greeted you as he entered the cosy space, "You know you could've just woken me up..."
His words trailed off as he noticed your bandaged arm and tear-stained cheeks, "I-I'm sorry, Yeo, it's just—" You couldn't stop the sobs escaping your lips at the sight of his concerned expression, cursing yourself internally for being such a crybaby.
Hearing your anguished cries, his heart clenched, and he swiftly moved to join you on the bed. He pulled you close, showering your head with tender kisses, "Hey, hey, it's okay. What happened to your arm? Are you alright? Please, talk to me, darling."
Your sobs only grew stronger in response to his care. Nestling your head against his neck, you stuttered out, "One of my c-colleagues didn't see me approaching and accidentally s-swung her envelope opener toward me. I tried to shield myself with my arm, and that's how..." You gestured to your injured arm, feeling miserable.
"I'm so sorry, darling. Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked you up from work if I had known you were hurt. And don't try to hide it from me; I know that can't be the only reason you're upset." He whispered, his lips gently pressing against your temple as he offered a comforting squeeze, careful not to worsen the pain in your arm.
The following words that left your lips broke his heart, "I d-didn't want to burden you with something so trivial, Yeo. You're already s-so busy; my work troubles must seem insignificant compared to yours."
Drawing back a bit, he cupped your face, meeting your tear-filled gaze, "What did I tell you about thinking like that? Your problems, no matter how minor you think they are, bother me if they bother you. I never want you to keep things from me again, understand? Promise me you'll always come to me first, no matter what."
He couldn't help but chuckle when your only response to that was an adorable wail, finding your vulnerability endearing as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder once more, "Y-you're the best boyfriend ever, Yeo. I l-love you so much."
Placing a gentle kiss against your hair, he grinned softly, "I love you too, darling. More than you can imagine. Now, I want you to tell me every single thing that happened at your workplace today. I'm not usually one for aggression, but I won't hesitate to deal with anyone who dared make you cry."
With a light giggle, you pulled away slightly, "Oh, you wouldn't, you little Maltese."
You squealed as he playfully tackled you onto the bed, glad to see you lightening up and teasing again as he leaned in for a firm kiss.
"A Maltese, huh? I'll show you a Doberman."
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ATEEZ Masterlist
This was super self-indulgent. I had a horrible day and ended up getting hurt in a rather similar fashion yesterday. Also wanted to show Yeosang some love after all the hate he's received for his role in my current Seonghwa series HAHA
Speaking of which, part 14 of The Way to His Heart should be out by this weekend! Hang in there, my lovelies! As always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3
Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid
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bluriki · 4 months
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christmas special one ❄ snowy nights ﹫ lhs
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ꪆৎ — on a snowy night with you, heeseung decides to confess how much love he has for you ; pair best friend!heeseung x fem!reader ; genre fluff , f2l
your heart beats uncontrollably. being this close to heeseung shouldn't make you feel this nervous but it does. he shouldn't make you feel like your floating on clouds but he does. he makes you feel all things best friends shouldn't make you feel.
1 ) helps you bring in groceries , you're hearts a fluttering mess 2 ) says the most random joke , you're laughing genuinely 3 ) he's staring at you , fire is on your cheeks
so now, you're in each others arms, slow dancing in the snow. it was heeseungs idea, saying it would be so fun to play and dance in the snow. the sun had gone down but the snowflakes were still falling.
soft music was playing from heeseung's phone as you swayed back and forth. you accidentally stepped on his foot causing him to groan. "sorry! i-i'm not good at dancing." you apologized quickly, feeling embarrassed.
"it's okay." you looked up with a smile on your face but the smile got wiped right off when you realized how close you really were to heeseung. his eyes never left yours as he held you close.
"you're really pretty." he whispered softly. your heart pounded in your chest. so hard you though it was gonna come out. but of course you tried playing it cool. "thanks but i already knew that."
heeseung snickered. "did you?" you nodded, trying to mask all the emotions that are flying around in your heart. "did you know you're loved?" you tilted your head in confusion. loved? well yeah, you know you were loved but what was he getting too?
"did you know i love you?" heeseung whispered as if he just wanted you to hear. your heart pounded once again, but this time you were sure he heard it.
"did you know how much i've dreamt of being by your side all day, everyday? did you know that i wanted to put a mistletoe on my door frame so when you come over i could steal a peck? you're lucky sunghoon convinced me not to."
"did you know why i arranged to dance with you while it snow? answer is because im romantic —"
he winked causing you to blush.
"but it's also because i love you. literally more than anyone could imagine. more than sunghoon could imagine and believe me he hears about it all the time. sometimes at 3 am. but that's because you're on my mind every single day, hour, minute, second. i love you so much it hurts that i cant confess to you, but it looks like it just did."
you were speechless. you didn't know what to say. it was like he read your mind because you had felt everything he felt. possibly even more.
"i love you too." you whispered. your mind was a mess. no words could really describe you how your felt this very moment, but one thing was for sure, you love heeseung too.
"i really do." you add on. you were still in his arms, looking as fragile as ever. so many things you wanted to say but only three words could really describe how your felt. "i love you."
heeseungs smiled. his eyes sparkled in the night as you told him you felt the same. your confession wasnt as great at his but it was perfect to him. more perfect than he could ever imagine.
"you know, i ran this scene through my mindso many times but it's way better than i thought."
you giggle and lean closer to his chest. "i'm glad you confessed first." he smiled and held you closer. the chill of the night fell in and it was time to go home.
"do me a favor and put that mistletoe up when you get home." you whispered against his shoulder. heeseung laughed, kissing your cheek softly.
🎬 노트 && . special thanks to yena ( @in2fly ) for giving me this idea when i was stuck!! i love you saur much!!
🧷 perm tl && . send ask or comment to be added
📋 series tl && . @in2fly @reader69sviewpoint @nhularin
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Chapter 20 pt. 1- I Do
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Summary: It's finally here, the day you've been waiting for since the day Javi came into your life and changed it for the better- It's your wedding day, and things couldn't be more perfect. Except for the fact that you and Javi can barley contain your excitement as you wait to see each other.
Word Count: 11.4K (If this wasn't 2 parts, this would be 30k long and wouldn't be finished until May)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink (?), kind of semi-public sex (they're gettin' busy in the bathroom), Kind of getting caught (Steve needs to mind his own business), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, Javi being an anxious, blubbering, hot mess, Javi being so in love and is so excited to spend the rest of his life with you that it physically hurts me (this chapter is lots of fluff and feelings and not as much smut, sorry!! Don't worry, there's PLENTY more to come next chapter 🤪)
A/N: Hi friends!!! Well, she's finally here, the moment we've all been waiting for- our two favorite idiots are finally getting married 😭💕 While I would have loved to make this one chapter, it literally would have been SO long, and Lord knows when I actually would have finished with it. So this chapter is the morning leading up to the ceremony, and part 2 will be the ceremony and reception!! I'm not even gonna lie, I bawled several times writing this chapter. These two mean so much to me, and I'm so honored that you care enough about them to be invested in my silly little story, too 🥺 HAPPY WEDDING DAY!!!
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For the better part of his life, Javier Peña was convinced there was nothing more soul-crushingly painful and miserable than a wedding. On a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness and joy, Javi had spent more years than he’d like to admit doing anything to avoid the occasion all together. Because for him, weddings had meant none of those things. Weddings had only served as yet another reminder of the failure he had chalked himself up to be. 
Leaving Lorraine at the altar and running away to Colombia. 
Watching the successes of everyone else’s blissful domestic lives play out in front of him, while he’d never felt so alone. 
Convincing himself that he would never be worthy of love because of the terrible person that he’d become. 
Weddings had been something that Javier Peña hated more than most things in life. 
But that was until he met you. 
Because today, on the morning of his own wedding, Javi was quite literally bursting at the seams with excitement, goofy grin stretched from ear to ear knowing that in a few short hours, he got to marry the most amazing, beautiful, perfect woman he had ever met. And even though the reality had set in that today was finally the day the two of you started your forever together, he was positive that he’d never get over the reality that you would always be his. 
As he pulled his truck up the driveway to your new home where he should have been sleeping for the better half of last night, there was a part of him that couldn’t have been more thankful he had been able to sneak in just a few more hours with you before sunrise, knowing the anxious anticipation of waiting to see you all day, let alone see you in your wedding dress at the other end of the aisle, was enough to already have his heart beating a million miles a minute at the ripe hours of the morning. 
While he should have known better his Dad would already be well awake by the time he snuck back home, Chucho’s welcoming grin from the front porch was already laced with enough forgiveness for Javi to hope he’d be spared at least some shit from his father. 
“”Morning, mijo.” Chucho chuckled, watching Javi’s sheepish stride up the driveway towards the house, slowly sipping on his cup of coffee with a boyish grin on his face, knowing damn well where his son had been without having to say a word. 
“I already know what you’re gonna say, Pops.” Javi sighed, shaking his head in embarrassment as he approached his dad, letting out a soft grunt as he took a seat next to his father on the top step of the front porch. 
“I haven’t said anything, Javier. Do you have something you want to say?” Chucho couldn’t help but snicker, raising his eyebrows at his son, as he watched his cheeks turn a petrified pink. 
“Nope, I am- oh, fuck me- nope I am, uh, all good.” Javi stammered, burying his hands in his face before running them through the sleepy curls of his hair and over the nape of his neck, his eyes still peeled to the ground, avoiding Chucho’s smug grin. 
“Then all I have to say is,” Cucho paused, taking another swig of coffee, “I hope you never stop loving her the way that you do now.” Javi looked up at his dad in confusion, wondering how his sneaking out wasn’t shaping up to be some sort of teenage scolding from his father. “I already know that you know you are a very, very lucky man Javier, but I also hope that you know you are going to make a wonderful husband. Eres un buen hombre. Estoy muy feliz por ti, mijo. Tu madre también lo estaría. Muy feliz.” (You are a good man. I am so happy for you, son. Your mom would be, too. So happy.) 
Letting his eyes shift off his feet where they had been stuck, Javi looked back up at his father, tears welling in his eyes at Chucho’s reassuring smile, reaching out to wrap his arm around his son, pulling him close enough to let Javi’s head fall on his shoulder, the two sitting for a quiet moment in silence. 
Javi couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his heart, thinking about the fact his mom wouldn’t be with him for the biggest day of his life. His mother had left this world when Javi was at his lowest- alone and halfway across the globe, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in. It had always haunted him that his mom had died worried that her son had become a broken man, and would never be proud of the person he’d turned out to be. When he returned home, he felt even worse thinking that his one living parent probably felt that way, too. 
But what brought him solace in a time that he needed it most, was you. You had given him a reason to make his parents proud, to make himself proud. While his mom would never be able to tell him the words he so desperately longed to hear, he knew in his heart that the life he’d built because of you was all the comfort he needed to prove to himself Lucia was smiling down on him when he needed it most. And as he looked up at the sky, the pink and orange rays of the beautiful sunrise beginning to spill over the horizon, he had never been more sure that even though his mom couldn’t physically be by his side, that Lucia Peña would still be with him every step of the way.  
“Fuck, I miss her, Pops. I wish she was here.” 
“She is, Javier. She always will be.” 
After soaking in a few more quiet moments together staring out into the shimmering sunrise, Chucho let out a content sigh, giving Javi a gentle pat on the back and rustling the dark curls of his son’s thick hair. 
“But, if there is one thing I know about your Mother, it’s that  I can practically hear her screeching at us wasting our time being sad about her on the happiest day of your life. Chucho, por qué piedres el tiempo estar triste? Basta de quejarte! Nuestro hijo se está casando, pendejo!” (Why are you wasting your time being sad! Stop moping! Our son is getting married, stupid.) Chucho mocked, shaking his head at the sky at the scolding he knew he’d be getting from his wife, making him and Javi burst into laughter. “And, if there’s another thing I know about your mother,” Chucho paused again, letting out a loud grunt as he pushed himself up to stand, resting his arm on Javi’s shoulder, “it’s that her and I would both agree there better be a nieto (grandchild) in our lives 9 months from now. Dios mío (oh my God), Javier, even on the night before your wedding you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves! I am truly surprised I don’t have 14 grandchildren already.” 
“Jesus fucking Christ, Pops….” Javi whispered to himself over his dad’s schoolgirl snickers, watching his son’s face fall flush once again, standing up to follow behind his dad back inside as Chuhco began to waddle his way across the porch. 
Although Javi could have tried to plead his case to his dad to prove his innocence, truth be told, today, he really didn’t care. Today, the only thing he cared about was that in just a few short hours, he got to meet you, his wife, at the end of the aisle and spend his forever with the woman he loved more than life itself. For the first time in his life, Javier Peña couldn’t have been more excited for a wedding. 
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You weren’t sure how many more times you had read the scratchy print scribbled across the bright yellow post-it Javi had left behind on his pillow before he had snuck out for the morning, but you did know that your heart beat faster and faster in anxious anticipation with every glance over his words, counting down the second until you got to see him again. 
You had kept yourself in your room, convinced that your excited impatience would have you awake well before everyone else still sleeping at the ranch, but as you heard clanging and bickering starting to echo from the kitchen, you should have known better that your mom and Connie would be up to something to kick start your wedding day. 
With a yawn and stretch of your arms above your head, you flopped yourself out of bed, exchanging Javi’s worn t-shirt and sleep shorts for the white pajama set your mom had insisted she buy for you to get ready in as a compromise for your adamant despise at the white silky robe that had “bride” stitched across it in big pink letters that she had begged to buy you. 
Shuffling down the hallway, the commotion in the kitchen only became increasingly louder, now realizing almost everyone must be awake for whatever antics were taking place for the early hours of the morning. As you turned the corner, you were greeted by an adorable “Happy Wedding Day!” banner that had been made by the girls hanging on the wall, decorated with adorable crayon drawings of flowers, you and Javi, and all of the horses of the Peña ranch dressed in wedding apparel. As your eyes scanned across the rest of the room, the kitchen table was already full of breakfast, balloons dangled from the ceiling, and your mom and Connie were actively working on filling up what was most likely one too many glasses of mimosas.  
“Happy wedding day, Auntie Bear!” A little voice cooed behind you, looking down to see a still very sleepy Olivia, hair still crazed and bed ridden as she wrapped herself around your hip, squeezing you in a tight hug. 
“Ahhhhh, there’s the bride!!” Your mom shrieked, her pitch enough to make everyone in the room wince as she barreled towards you, joining Olivia to engulf you in her grasp. After everyone had recovered from your mom’s shrill greeting, everyone else had soon joined in on squeezing you in a giant group hug, the gesture in itself making you smile, but the physical restraint in the middle of a human sandwich being a little too much for you this early in the morning. 
“Thanks guys. I uh, I would like to make it out alive for my wedding so maybe if we don’t squish me to death, that would be great.” You grunted, trying to wriggle out of the arms squishing your body, hoping that someone would get the hint. 
“Alright, I think she’s probably had enough.” Connie laughed, finally noticing the look on your face, prompting everyone to give you at least a little breathing room. 
“I’m just so excited for you! I can’t believe you’re getting married, sweetie!” Your mom, clearly not picking up on the hint, was now back to squeezing you in a bear hug again tight enough to make your eyes pop out of your head. “Okay, sorry, sorry, I’m done now, just had to get one last one out of my system… for now. Here, have a seat, honey,” Your mom gestured towards the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “we have about an hour before we have to start doing hair and makeup but we have plenty of breakfast for you to choose from before we get the day started. How’d you sleep?” 
“Oh, um- fine, I um, I slept fine.” You lied, now sheepishly staring down at the overflowing plate of breakfast food your mom had set in front of you, taking a hefty bite of pancake before looking back up, your eyes meeting Connie’s, a suspicious smirk gleaming on her face as she stared at you, crossing your arms over your chest as you swallowed your food with a more audible than intended gulp. 
“Oh good!” Your mom replied, obvious to yours and Connie’s silent interaction as she meandered around the kitchen. “Well, eat up, I’m off to go check on some things outside, but by the time I get back in here, that plate better be cleared! Girls, come help Grandma, let your Aunt finish her breakfast!” 
“Okay!” Your nieces giggled, following behind your mom into the backyard, leaving you and Connie alone in the kitchen, hearing her silently laugh to herself as she sat down next to you at the table. 
“Good sleep, huh? Good sleep that definitely had nothing to do with Javi’s truck that left here at 6:00 AM this morning?” Connie snickered, giving you a little wink as your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, letting out a defeated sigh. 
“I promise it’s not what you think. I actually couldn’t sleep and I called Javi and he ended up coming over so I wouldn’t be up the whole night. I told him he didn’t have to, but I was up and stressed and having him here was the only thing that was going to help. It was just sleep, I promise.” 
“It’s okay, I believe you. I couldn’t sleep the night before my wedding either. I’m pretty sure if I did what you had done, Steve would have slept right through the phone call, or still would have been too drunk to drive over.” The two of you quietly giggled to yourselves as Connie reached out for your hand, holding it in hers, “I hope you know that he loves you so much. It always broke my heart to see Javi go through what he did, and how hard on himself he was because of it. You really are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. I’m so happy for the two of you, I couldn’t be more excited for today, honey.” 
Reaching across the table, Connie wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you in another hug, trying to hold back your sniffles as you felt happy tears beginning to well in your eyes. 
“Thank you, Connie.” 
“Of course. Now, you better pick what you want from that breakfast and throw away the rest before your mom gets back, I don’t think either one of us wants to be responsible for telling her that her food wasn’t sufficient enough for you.” 
You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of the dismay your mom would be in thinking that you didn’t get enough to eat before your big day as you put a reasonable amount of breakfast on a new plate to eat, discarding the other heaping pile that your mom had left you. 
“You are a smart woman, Connie Murphy.” 
“So I’ve been told.” 
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The rest of the morning seemed to move by at an exponential pace- At the Pena ranch, hair and makeup was well underway for everyone, and running on time with incredible efficiency from the detailed schedule that your mom and Connie had put together. Even though your body was riddled with endless amounts of anxious anticipation and excitement as the clock ticked closer and closer to when Javi and the rest of the boys would finally get here, you were pleasantly surprised at how fun the morning had ended up being with all the girls, especially since your nieces and the Murphy girls had insisted on putting on a hilarious sing along spectacular for the majority of the time for entertainment while you got ready. 
Over at your new house, however, with the only getting ready that Javi needed to do being taking a shower and putting on his suit, the boys were convinced that he was going to put a hole in the floor from his anxious pacing as he counted down the minutes to leave. 
“Jav, have a beer, man, you just put this floor in, I think your wife’s gonna be pissed when she finds out she has to replace it before y’all even move in because you can’t sit still.” Steve chuckled, taking a sip out of his can before nudging your brothers sitting next to him on the couch as they watched their friend and future brother in law tread back and forth across the living room for what felt like the 117th time since they’d sat down. 
“I think I have to agree with Steve on this one, Javier, you are making me anxious and I’m not even the one getting married.” Chucho chimed in from the armchair seated next to the couch. 
“I’ll second what Steve said, man. Have a beer, Javi. You haven’t shut up all day about how fuckin’ excited you are, so what’s got you so worked up? You’ve seen her in a dress before dude, this one’s just white.” Your brother David snorted, his joke now soliciting some eye rolls from the rest of the boys, considering David was about single as they came, and was the only one of the group who wasn’t even remotely close to being married. 
“It’s a fucking wedding dress, you dingus, there’s obviously a difference.” Your dad groaned, walking up to your brother to give him a prompt smack in the back of the head, making your other brother Charlie snicker to himself, until he also decided to greet him with an equally harsh slap for good measure. 
“What the fuck was that for? I didn’t say anything!” Charlie winced, holding his hands up in defense. 
“Tell your brother to stop being an ass! She’s your sister too, for Christ’s Sake, you’re not gonna stand up for her either?! Jesus you two are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. Even Patrick would have had enough common sense to keep that one in his head. Well, maybe not, but that’s besides the point.” That one at least cracked a little smile from your brothers, wishing that Patrick would have been here to see their sister’s big day, and to distribute the slapping pain more equally between the pair. 
“I just… Fuck, I just wanna see her. I can’t wait to see her. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my whole life. The suspense is fucking killing me.” Javi signed, resting one hand on his hip before running his hand through his hair, anxiously drumming his fingers on his side, foot tapping on the well worn path he had been treading on the hardwood floor of the living room. 
Chucho chuckled, resting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up to stand with a low grunt, making his way over to his son, resting his hand on his shoulder as he looked up at him. “Eres como tu madre.. Impaciente. (You are just like your mother… Impatient). Mijo, I remember when I married your mother, she was so excited that she actually asked if we could start the wedding an hour early, just so we could see each other sooner. I can almost hear her laughing at the fact that her son is no better than her. How I wish she were here to see this. Soon, Javier. I promise.” 
“Do you think she’s gonna like the gift? You made sure she has it for today, right? And everything from her brothers too?” Javi asked, nervously biting at the tip of his thumb as he glanced down at his father before looking over at David and Charlie sitting on the couch, smiling back at him. 
“Yes, Javier. I triple checked last night. I’m sure that she will love it. I know she will love it. All of it. Now, why don’t you go put on your suit and we can leave a little ahead of schedule, I will just make sure to drive extra slow. Even slower than normal. I think if we wait any longer you may actually combust.” He teased, pulling Javi into a tight hug before releasing him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. 
“Alright boys, you heard the man, get your sorry asses moving and let’s get these monkey suits on, it’s time to get this boy married!” David cheered, holding up his beer to toast Javi before promptly chugging the rest of it down his throat and slamming it down on the table, soliciting another round of eye rolls and muffled laughter from the crowd. 
Silently nodding and smiling to himself, letting out one last reassuring breath before looking at the boys standing in front of him. 
“Fuck. I’m gonna get married.” 
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Back at the ranch, the last of getting ready was beginning to wrap up, all the girls' hair and makeup finally finished, and the youngest of the crew giddily dancing in their flower girl dresses, twirling and swirling in excitement at their pristine outfits as they gathered around you, patiently awaiting for you to get into your own wedding dress.  
For as long as you’d wanted to get married, you’d always known that you wanted your wedding dress to be simple- No excessive frills, poof, glitter, or anything that made you feel like you were playing dress up for the world’s goofiest fashion show, simply because it was your wedding, and your dress needed to reflect the extravagance of the event. Your style choice came as a surprise to no one, given the fact you had practically lived in your brother’s hand-me-down’s until the 8th grade, and even when your mom had flown down a few months ago to go dress shopping with you and Connie, she had even laid down the hammer with one of the wedding dress consultants that you wouldn’t even step anywhere near a dress that was an ounce too over the top. 
That’s why you were absolutely shocked that despite your firm parameters around what you wanted to wear for your big day, that you fell in love with the very first dress you tried on, and never looked back. 
It was everything you wanted and never you needed in a dress- a simple a-line skirt with thin straps that ran across your shoulders and scooped down your back, along with a delicate, lacy floral pattern stitched across your top that flowed down the wispy length of your gown. There were few times that you had ever admitted it to yourself, but you had truly never felt more beautiful than when you were wearing that dress, and when you had tried it on for the first time, only to turn around to see the tears welling in your mom and Connie’s eyes as you revealed it to them, it was every confirmation that you needed that this dress was made for you. 
And while you had been counting down the days in excitement, waiting to put your dress on for your big day, Javi had been counting down along with you, to the point where Connie had made the executive decision to keep the dress at her house to prevent any preemptive peeking, considering that Javi had spent every day since you had bought your dress telling you how he couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you were going to look in it, without even knowing a single clue about what you had boughten, besides your lovingly sarcastic and vague “It’s a dress, and it’s white, Jav.” 
But after all the time you had spent imagining what it would be like to finally put your dress on for your actual wedding day, you almost couldn’t believe that you were finally here, carefully taking the straps off the hanger where it had been resting, holding the beautiful, white fabric out in front of you with a goofy grin spread across your face, eyeing down the outfit that meant you got to spend forever with your best friend. 
“You ready to put it on?” Connie asked softly, her hand resting on your shoulder as she stepped behind you, excitedly gazing at your dress right alongside you. 
“Yeah.” You smiled, gently nodding your head as you looked back at Connie, taking one last deep breath before passing off the dress to her before shimmying out of your clothes, letting them fall to a pile on the floor before turning to Connie, stepping into the opening of the dress and carefully pulling each strap over your shoulders while she pulled the zipper along your back, letting out a little sigh of relief as it clasped at the top. With one more long inhale, you slowly turned around to face everyone, eagerly awaiting your reveal, picking up your gown with a little floof as it gently draped around you, meeting the tears and smiles painted across everyone’s faces while they gazed at you. 
“Auntie Bear, you look like a princess! Uncle Javi is gonna think that you look like the most beautifulest person he’s ever seen.” Olivia squealed, jumping up and down in excitement before running over to you, wrapping her little arms around your waist in a tight hug. 
“Oh sweetheart…. You look absolutely stunning.” Your mom sniffled through her tears, holding her hands crossed over her chest, soaking in your full wedding ensemble. 
“You look gorgeous. Like, seriously. I hope you know that Javi’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in this.” Connie giggled, giving you a wink and a playful nudge, looking you up and down in astonishment. 
Stepping over to see yourself in the mirror, your heart skipped a beat to see yourself, your stomach churning with anxious, excited butterflies knowing that you were only getting closer and closer to finally seeing Javi and his reaction, trying your best to not your smirk grow too wide between your warm cheeks, thinking about his reaction. 
“You really think he’s gonna like it?” You asked, your eyes still fixed at your reflection in the mirror, gently swaying your lacy, floral skirt back and forth, running your hand against the delicate fabric. 
“Honey, I’ve watched that man ogle over you in a hockey jersey. I told the boys they’re in charge of making sure he doesn’t faint when you walk down the aisle.” Your mom teased, Connie nodding her head in agreement. 
“I’m gonna second your mom on this one, girl. Steve has a running bet with the guys on how long it takes Javi to cry after he sees you. I think the over/under is 2 seconds, but after seeing you right now, I’m convinced he’s all waterworks from the moment he lays eyes on you.” 
Connie’s comment made you laugh to yourself, shaking your head at the idea of Javi instantly bursting into tears from just the sight of you, but when you thought about seeing Javi in his tux (that you had already seen before, multiple times) and what a mess you were going to be, maybe the boy’s betting line didn’t seem so unfair after all. 
“Speaking of tears…” Connie smirked at your mom, nodding at her to signify some little secret they seemed to be in on, “There’s one last thing you need to see before… Well, we’ll let you open it up and find out.” 
With that, your mom reached over to one of the tables where a white box with a neatly wrapped bow had been hidden, your mom passing it to Connie before then passing it over to you, making you tilt your head in confusion as you took the box in your hands, looking back and forth between your mom, Connie and the box waiting for some sort of explanation. 
“What is this?” you questioned, still puzzled as you noticed the gift tag hidden under the bow, gently peeling it open, their suspicious smirks beginning to spread as you read the all too familiar scratchy handwriting inside. 
To: Osita
Love: Javi
Now even more confused, you carefully began unwrapping the bow from around the packaging, letting the ribbon fall to the floor, followed by the lid of the box, revealing another longer note from Javi, resting on top of a bed of neatly folded tissue paper. You sat down in one of the chairs close by, letting the box rest on your lap as you held the note in your hands, already beginning to tremble as you felt the tears start to well in your eyes as you began to read. 
Osita, 
I knew from the moment I met you, that I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t believe that day is finally here. I hope that this day is everything that you could ever dream it to be. 
I hope you know that if I could I would give you everything. The moon, the sun, the stars- if you wanted it, I would give it to you. 
But I know that no matter how hard I try, there is one thing I know can’t give to you, and that’s the presence of the people who aren’t with us anymore. 
And while I can’t bring back your brother or my mom to be here today, I hope that what’s in this box will remind you that they’ll always be here for you, no matter what. 
I know my mom would have wanted you to have this. There’s not a day that goes by that I wish she could have met you. She would have loved you so much. I hope she knows that you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to me. 
Your family was able to find something of your brother’s for you to have on here too- I wish I could have met him. I hope he knows how much I love you, and the beautiful and resilient woman you’ve become. I hope he knows how proud I am of you. 
I can’t wait to see you, amor. I can’t even imagine how beautiful you look right now. I’m the luckiest man in the world. 
I love you more than words, and I promise I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you know it. 
Happy Wedding Day, Osita. Soy tuyo para siempre (I’m yours forever). 
-J 
You could feel your heart practically exploding after reading what Javi had wrote for you, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks, you took a deep breath as you carefully set down his note next to you before ever so slowly peeling back the layers of tissue paper folded on top of one another, hiding the gift hidden beneath them. As the last layer of the delicate paper was shed, you let out a gasp, you hand covering your mouth in shock as you put together the pieces of Javi’s note and the present now sitting in your lap, looking up at everyone else in the room, nodding back at you with sympathetic smiles and tears in their eyes at your realization. 
Not only had Javi had given you his mother’s wedding veil to wear, but stitched in the bottom corner was a patch of Patrick’s old hockey jerseys, a small number 2 from his arm sleeve, the number he had worn for every jersey he had ever played in. 
“Oh my… Oh my god? I can’t, I- how did you- oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in disbelief, tears now streaming down your face as you held the veil in your hands, your thumb gently tracing over the worn patch of Patrick’s jersey, truly too stunned to speak at what Javi had done for you, to make sure a piece of two people who were no longer with you could still be a part of the biggest day of your life.
“Can I put it on?” Your mom asked, smiling at you with tears in her eyes, walking towards you as you nodded, handing her over the veil as she gently nestled it into your hair, straightening it out behind you, even more tears streaming down her face while she watched your reaction in the mirror. 
Not only was Lucia’s veil absolutely beautiful, if you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought Javi had asked someone to see what your dress looked like to pick out a veil that matched it perfectly. Like it truly was meant to be.
Still too shocked to form any sort of coherent thought, you stared at yourself in the mirror, silently smiling and crying at your reflection until a soft knock came from outside the bedroom door, making everyone in the room whip their heads around to see all of the boys who had just arrived peeking through the door frame, waiting in anticipation. 
“Can we come in? We’re dyin’ to see you, Cubby. Well, the one who’s dyin to see you the most we banished to the outside so he wasn’t even tempted to come in, but the rest of us fools still wanna see you too.” Your dad’s voice chuckled from behind the door, making you break from your crying just enough to let a soft laugh escape from your chest, nodding your head as you turned around to greet the gang gathered at the door. 
Growing up the youngest of 3 brothers, sentimental wasn’t a term thrown around in your household very often. Of course you loved your family, and they loved you, but you and your brothers had often joked that it’d probably be easier to projectile vomit than to actually say the words “I love you” eachother. So that’s why when your dad and brothers walked through the door with awestruck looks on their faces, you couldn’t help but start crying even more. 
Well, until they actually got a chance to speak. 
“Don’t cry you dingus, you’re gonna mess up all your makeup. And god knows how long it took to try and make you look like you didn’t just crawl out of a garbage can.” David quietly snickered, pulling you in for a much gentler than usual headlock before wrapping his arms around you for a legitimate hug. 
“Fuck off, David. How many people had to help you put that suit on, huh? You use every last brain cell trying to do up those buttons?” You teased back, trying to wipe the tears that had been rolling down your cheeks before giving him a loving slap to the stomach, making the two of you laugh even more. 
“You know his dumbass needed all the help he could get.” Charlie joked, pulling you in for another hug before stepping back to look you up and down, “Not too shabby. You clean up good, Cubby.” 
“Thanks Charlie.” 
The last one to step towards you was your dad, who you could tell was trying with everything in him not to absolutely burst into tears, putting one hand on your shoulder as he smiled at you. “I’ll say it once and I won’t say it again because you know as well as I do I’m not good with the sappy shit. You look beautiful, Cubby. I’m so proud of you. I know Patrick would have been too. Although that motherfucker is probably pissed at us that we cut the number off of his favorite jersey, but I think he’ll forgive us.” Wrapping you in a tight squeeze, your dad engulfed you in a bear hug, quickly followed by your brothers and your mom, trapping you in the center of their bodies, knowing you all were wishing there was one more person there in your group to fill in your hug. 
“I love you guys. Thank you.” You whispered, just loud enough to make sure they could hear, but quiet enough that even though your brothers had heard it, just this once, they wouldn’t give you shit for it. And just this once, everyone seemed to silently agree that they really, truly, did love you too. 
After a few more seconds of your group hug, there was another soft knock on the door, followed by another familiar voice, Chucho and Steve now peeking through the doorway to say hello. 
“Is it okay if we come in, Mija?” Chuco asked, already halfway through the door in excitement. 
“Yes, of course.” You sniffed, breaking free from the middle of your group hug to greet Chucho, less than shocked that his hug was almost tighter than the 4 other members of your family combined. 
“Mija… Mija, you look so beautiful. Oh, goodness. I had always saved this veil one day, just in case. And even though it sat in the attic for years, I pulled it out the week that Javier first met you. I don’t think that there was ever a doubt in anyone’s mind that you weren’t the one for him. My sweet Lucia would have been so happy to know that you have given Javier everything he never thought that he deserved. Oh, how I wish with everything she could have been here today to see how happy you make him. But I hope that you know, she would have been so excited that you get to be a part of our family.” He grinned through his tears, stepping back to look at you with a soft smile on his face, gently reaching up to wipe away the wetness on your cheek before pulling you back in for another hug. “I hope you know that Javier is going to be a wreck when he sees you. Poor boy has been in shambles all day waiting to see you.” 
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man this anxious. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.” Steve chimed in, laughing to himself. “You look great, sweetheart. Chucho’s right, Javi’s ‘bout to be a goddamn mess.” 
As if your heart couldn’t feel any fuller from all of the love and warmth overflowing into the room, you had almost forgotten about the one person that had brought you all together in the first place- Javi. 
You could feel the pace of your heart begin to race, your stomach swirling in anticipation as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in. 
Your future husband was here, and there was nothing more in the world that you wanted than to see him. Not soon, not at the end of the aisle, not waiting for you at the altar, right this very second. 
“He’s here, right? Javi?” You asked, biting down on your lip to contain the stupid grin growing between your cheeks, swaying back and forth on your heels in childlike impatience. Before you could barely ask your question, all eyes in the room were on your, giving you a collective look that seemed to scream “Seriously? You can’t wait either?” without having to say a word. 
As you could hear the beginning rumblings of protest, David stepped in as the most unexpected voice of reason, holding his hands up to the crowd in your defense, trying to silence everyone’s potential disagreement for what you were about to suggest. 
“Listen… Y’all know as well as I do that we could hold back these two with iron restraints, and they’d still probably find a way to see each other before the ceremony. And to be quite honest, I am pretty convinced if we don’t let them, one of them is gonna fucking combust, and I am not willing to be held personally responsible for any damages done before you two idiots can even get married.” 
Giving you a silent nod of approval, David stepped back to pat your back with the loving force that only a brother could, as everyone else in the room seemed to very quickly agree with his sentiment, joining with head bobs of quiet agreement. 
“I’ll go let the big man know you’re comin’. Gotta find some way to redeem myself before I bust his balls in my speech later.” Steve snickered, giving you a quick wink before quickly disappearing out the door to find the man behind it, waiting half as patiently as you. 
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To say that Javi was disappointed when the boys booted him to the outdoors while everyone else got to go in and see you was the understatement of the year. Even though he couldn’t have been sitting on the front porch of his childhood home for more than 10 minutes, it felt like he had been waiting for hours, counting down each second until the moment he finally got to lay his eyes on you. After about 2 minutes of sitting in his dad’s rocking chair, nervously swaying as his hands shifted between his fingers drumming on his legs and balling up in anxious fists, he pushed himself up to stand, walking off the steps of the porch to pace in the front yard under the warmth of the late June sun. 
He had been so preoccupied as he meandered the front of the home, picturing just how breathtaking you would look as you walked down the aisle to greet him- how gorgeous you would be in your dress, your hair, your stunning smile, everything about you that made him look at you and know that he was the luckiest man in the world. That you were his. That you were everything that made him feel like home. It wasn’t until after a few careless steps too far around the corner of the house, that Javi was catching himself from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over a larger than suspected rock underneath him, quietly cursing under his breath while he tried to steady himself, peering down at the ground to see what had almost caused his fall. And when he finally read the words etched into the round stone beneath him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact the thing resting below him was none other than the heading that read “Lucia’s Garden”. 
“Jesus Christ, Ma, you’re not even here and you’re gonna take me out before the wedding even happens.” Javi chuckled to himself, gently tapping his foot against the rock, staring at the worn and weathered letters of her name. “You know, the very first time Pops met her, he let her work on the garden. I couldn’t believe it, because he barely lets me within 10 feet of here without worrying I’m gonna ruin something. But uh, I think that he knew. I think before he even met her, he already knew that she was the one.” 
Letting out a soft sigh, Javi crouched down, squatting next to the stone, gently brushing his thumb across the grittiness, carefully tracing each letter back and forth, praying with every ounce of him that one way or another, she could hear what he had to say. 
“I really wish you could be here, Mom. I really miss you. I really wish she could have gotten to meet you. I know that you’d love her.” Javi paused, his eyes beginning to well with tears, letting out a long, shaky exhale to try and compose himself. “She’s so good to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her. She’s made me a better man. A man that I’m proud of. A man I hope you’d be proud of, too.” He paused again, pinching the bridge of his nose before wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “I know that uh- I know before, um you were gone, that you really worried about me. I know you’d never say it, but um, I could tell. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom.” His voice was now barely above a whisper, years of guilt and anger bubbling in his chest for the person he’d been, the life his mother had lived to see him play out while halfway across the world, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore. 
“But, I um- I just- fuck, I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’m more than okay, now. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, all because of her. We’re gonna build a house, we’re gonna have kids, we’re gonna be so happy, Mom. So fucking happy. Te amo mucho, Mama. Siempre lo hare (I love you so much, Mama. I always will).” 
So focused on the quiet conversation with the simple stone sitting beneath him, Javi hadn’t even heard Steve’s hurried footsteps creeping up behind him, making Javi practically jump out of his skin as Steve’s hand met his shoulder. 
“Hey, buddy. You ready to-” 
“Jesus, fuck Murph. You scared the fucking shit out of me.” Javi gasped, thoroughly startled as he shot to his feet, quickly trying to wipe the tears from his face as he faced his friend. 
“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to, promise!” Steve laughed, holding his hands up in defense before letting his expression shift to concern at Javi’s face. “Hey, you okay, Jav?” 
“Yeah, yeah, I’m- No, I’m good, sorry. Just um- Just wish my mom could have been here for this, ya know? She would have really fucking loved her.” 
“Hey, it’s okay, man. My dad was gone before my wedding, too. Fuckin’ sucks.” Steve smiled sympathetically, “Truth be told Jav, that girl you’re gonna marry, I think it’s hard for anyone not to love her. Your mom would be really happy for ya.” 
“Thanks, Murph.” Javi huffed, a small smile spreading across his face at Steve’s genuine sympathy, a trait he didn’t see very often. 
“C’mere, buddy.” Without giving him a choice, Steve wrapped his arms around Javi, pulling him in for a hug with a few stiff pats on the back before pulling away with a nod, hands on his hips as he stared down his friend with a shit eating grin, knowing the news he was about to tell Javi would instantly turn his mood around. “Speakin’ of your future wife… You wanna see her?” 
“Wait, like, now? Like, actually?” Javi’s mood instantly shifted, his entire body lighting up at the prospect, looking at Steve with relief glistening in his dark brown eyes. 
“Yeah, actually. Thank God your wife is just as obsessed with you as you are with her. Jesus Christ, I think the both of ya would have fuckin’ exploded if we made you wait ‘till the ceremony.” Steve chuckled, grabbing Javi’s shoulder and giving it a playful shake. “Alright, you turn around so it’s a surprise when she gets out here, lemme go get her. And Jav?” Steve asked, turning his head back over his shoulder to look at his friend as he began to walk away back towards the house. 
“Yeah, Murph?” 
“You’re losin’ that bet. No way in fuckin’ hell you ain’t sobbin’ like a baby the second you lay eyes on her.” 
As Steve disappeared back into the house, Javi couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, because as much as he wanted to dish shit back to Steve, he knew his friend was right- He was about to be a fucking mess. 
“So? Are we good? Does he wanna see me?” You asked, anxiously waiting at the door, feet tapping on the floor hidden underneath your dress as you waited for Steve’s return. 
“No offense, Sweetheart, but that's just about the dumbest question I've ever heard. What do you think? Of course the bastard wants to see you. I’m just gonna warn ya though, that man is a hot mess, and I really think ya just may kill him the second he sees you.” The two of you laughed to yourselves, feeling your heart beat faster and faster in your chest with every passing second, using all of your self restraint to keep from bolting out the door past Steve to see Javi. “Alright, I won’t keep ya any longer, go get ‘em, killer.” 
Before you could get yourself out the door, you embraced Steve in a hug, catching him off guard for a moment before he hugged you back, smiles spread across both your faces. 
“Thanks, Steve.”
“Sweetheart, you ain’t got nothin’ to thank me for. If anything, hell, I should be thankin’ you. You two lovebirds are a match made in fuckin’ heaven. I was real worried about that old bastard for a long time. Glad to know I don’t have to worry about him anymore. Well, at least too much more. Now, enough about my sorry ass, go see your husband.” 
With a silent nod, you gave Steve one more quick hug before you were turning the knob to the front door, quietly stepping out to the front porch to see Javi’s back to you at the bottom of the stairs, already trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes without even seeing his face. As you closed the door behind you, Javi instantly perked up, turning his head back over his shoulder just enough to speak, but not enough to see that it was you who was walking to greet him. 
“She good to come out, Murph? I’m fucking dying out here.” Javi laughed, making you giggle at the fact that he had no idea it was you who was standing behind him. 
“Hate to break it to you, but unfortunately, I am not Steve. So sorry.” You snickered, practically feeling Javi’s eyes roll at your sarcastic comment, even though the both of you were thankful for a little humor to break the anxious anticipation that had been festering in your stomachs since this morning. 
“God, you’re such a dork.” He laughed, his back still turned to you as you took your final steps down the stairs with your dress in hand, trying to fluff it back out as you settled yourself behind him. 
“Hey, you’ve got me for the rest of your life, babe. Lucky you. I’m not gonna lie, don’t think I cleaned up half bad, ya know, if you wanna see.” You teased, giving Javi a playful poke on the back as you bit down on your bottom lip, so excited to see Javi’s reaction you truly thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest. 
“Baby, you have no fucking idea. C-can I, can I see you?” Javi stammered, his voice already beginning to tremble. 
“Well, I think I’m gonna implode if you don’t, so yeah.” You took one last long inhale in, holding your breath as Javi slowly began to turn to face you, feeling like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion when Javi’s eyes finally locked with yours. 
Javi couldn’t even get a word out before his hands were covering his mouth, his jaw dropping open in absolute awe to see you standing behind him. The tears he swore to himself he’d try to fight back were already streaming down his face, his eyes looking you up and down over and over again, trying to soak in every ounce of you, only crying harder as he noticed each and every new detail of you standing before him. 
“Osita… Oh my god. Oh my god.” Javi’s hand stayed glued over his mouth to try and keep his jaw from dropping any further than it already was, absolutely mesmerized by your beauty, barely able to get out any sort of coherent thought out of his brain. “Baby, you, oh my god, you look so beautiful. You look so fucking beautiful.”  
While you figured that Javi would cry and be excited to see you, nothing could have prepared you for the reaction that you were witnessing in real time, watching your future husband become a complete, blubbering mess at the sight of you, making it damn near impossible for you to hold it together yourself, considering the fact that you were also busy trying to take in the ridiculously handsome sight of Javi in his tuxedo- his broad body filling out every inch of the black fabric perfectly, hair and mustache impeccably groomed, and sweet, teary brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight, making you melt, tears rolling down your face as your heart bursted at the seams over and over again, wondering how in the world this wasn’t all some sort of a perfect dream. 
“You like it?” You managed to choke out through your happy sobs, your cheeks straining from the stupid grin that had spread across your face, the both of you radiating in the blissful glow of your excitement. 
“Like it? Osita, are you fucking kidding me? Do I like it? Holy shit, baby, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You look... Osita, you look incredible.” Javi laughed through his tears, taking another step back to grab your hand, looking you up and down again before holding your arms up to twirl you in a circle, your dress flowing around you, making you giggle as you finally finished rotating to lock eyes with Javi again. “Hermosa, I knew you were gonna look amazing, but I- I never, I never could have imagined that you were gonna look like this.” 
“Coming from you? Jesus, Jav, I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me in that tux before we can even get married. You look so good. Javi?” You paused, grabbing his other hand so your fingers were intertwined, his thumb automatically tracing soft circles on your skin. 
“Yeah, baby?” Javi replied, biting down on his bottom lip as he gulped, trying to hold back the lump resting in his throat from his happy tears as he stared down at you. 
“Javi… We’re getting married. We’re getting fucking married.” 
“Fuck. We’re getting married. Holy shit.” As if the smile on Javi’s face couldn’t get any wider, his boyish grin gleamed between his cheeks, wrapping his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug against his chest, the two of you laughing to yourself in disbelief that you had finally made it here- that only a few short moments, the two of you got to begin the rest of your forevers together. “Can I- Can I kiss you?” He asked in a soft whisper, pulling back to tilt his head towards yours, sliding one of his hands up to gently cup your cheek, shifting your gaze up towards him. 
“What kind of question is that, you dork?” You teased, bringing your mouth close enough to his to let your lips barely ghost over one anothers, butterflies swarming in a sea of excitement. 
“Because I’m afraid if I start kissing you, I’m not gonna be able to stop.” 
“Do your worst, Peña.” 
As if time began to move in slow motion, your mouths met with an electric and tender intensity, slowly becoming a mix of tangled tongues and teeth, your hand sneaking under the opening of Javi’s suit jacket to wrap around his waist as the grip around your face began to tighten, your bodies melting together as one in a nearly magical moment- Well, as magical as it could get before being interrupted by all your friends and family that had gathered on the front porch to share in the moment with you. 
“Hey! Lovebirds! Jesus Christ, save it for the ceremony!” Steve shouted, a chorus of laughter erupting behind him, startling you and Javi. 
“Good Lord, Steve, give it a rest. They missed each other!” Connie sighed, shaking her head at her husband’s loud interruption. 
“Yeah, that’s our sister, you pervert!” David chimed in, the familiarity of his taunting voice making you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips as you stared back at the crowd. 
“Will you can it, you dingus? It’s their wedding day for Christ’s sake!” Your dad groaned, slapping David in the back of the head. 
“Daddy, what’s a pervert?” Olivia asked, looking over at Charlie as Chucho held her against his hip, grimacing as he tried not to laugh at the exchange. 
“Seriously David, really? Grow up! They’re so adorable, let your sister have this.” Your mom scolded, promptly giving him another whack to the stomach, you and Javi now laughing to each other at the scene that was unfolding in front of you on the porch. 
“Well,” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge, “It seems like everyone else has been able to solve the ‘you not being able to stop kissing me’ problem.” 
“Jesus Christ…” Javi sighed to himself, running his hand over his face as he stared back into the crowd watching you and him, “Can we get a few more minutes to ourselves before the ceremony? Please? I haven’t seen her all day.” 
“C’mon, let’s give the two some privacy. Lindas (cuties), why don’t we go look to make sure all the flowers are ready. Maybe we can practice walking down the aisle again?” Cucho smiled at the two of you, giving Javi a subtle wink as the girls began to giggle with delight, racing off to the backyard in a fit of squeals of excitement. 
“We’ll do another check of everything, too, I wanna make sure everything’s in place before the ceremony. Do you mind helping, Connie? Boys, will you go check to make sure all the food and drinks are ready for cocktail hour” Your mom asked, picking up on Chucho’s hint to give the two of you some space, now trying to rope your dad, brothers and Steve into that equation as well. 
“Can I have a beer if I help?” 
“Jesus Christ, David.” 
Everyone's conversations began to trail as they headed their separate ways, leaving you and Javi standing in the front yard alone, once again,  looking at each other with mischievous grins- Yours from knowing damn well that Javi had something up his sleeve, and Javi’s from the something stored up there. 
“What’s that look for, Jav?” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Javi as you waited for him to let you in on whatever plan he had brewing in his brain. 
“I think… I think that I really have to go to the bathroom.” Javi replied, boyish grin glowing between his cheeks as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. 
“And you’re really making it seem like going to the bathroom is a two person job.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Baby, the ceremony is gonna start in an hour, everyone’s here and I don’t think there’s gonna be enough-” 
Before you could finish your thought, Javi was swallowing the rest of your sentence in a long, deep kiss, only pulling away to quietly rasp in your ear. 
“Is that a challenge, Osita? I promise I’ll be fast, baby, you just look so fucking beautiful, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it if I can’t have my wife all to myself, even if it’s just for a few minutes. ” 
“God, you’re such a drama queen.” You sighed with a snicker, heat creeping in your core knowing that you had just as little self control as Javi did, peeking your head to make sure that everyone had dispersed before they watched you and Javi sneak inside together. “We have to be quick, okay? I just don’t want-AH! Javi!” You squealed as Javi was scooping you off your feet mid sentence, very fittingly carrying you bridal style across the front yard and up the steps of the porch, nudging the door open with his hip, the two of you all giggles and smiles as he whisked you through the house, stopping at his childhood bedroom, promptly setting you on the ground to shut the door behind him. 
With a click of the lock and a rattle of the door handle to make sure they were safe from intruders, Javi’s hands were all over you in an instant, his mouth crashing into yours as he walked you back towards the ensuite attached to his bedroom, hoisting you up onto the kitchen sink as he shut the bathroom door behind him for an extra layer of protection. 
You could tell how hard Javi was trying to keep himself in check, considering the amount of time and effort that had gone into your hair and makeup, and the delicacy of your dress, but it was taking every ounce of self control he had to not rip it right off you. Softly letting his kisses trail down your body, Javi began to sink to his knees, smirking up at you with his awestruck gaze as he carefully began to lift up the layers of your dress, running his hands up and down your bare thighs. 
“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are, Osita? Fuck, I can’t believe you’re gonna be my wife. My beautiful, amazing, perfect wife.” The hot breath of his words danced against your skin as Javi peppered soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, his head almost disappearing underneath your dress as he creeped closer and closer to your core, already soaked with your arousal waiting for Javi’s touch. “You’re mine forever, Hermosa. Fuck, I’m so lucky. I love you so much.” 
“I-I love you too, Javi.” You whined, your breath already shaky as Javi’s fingers hooked around the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs and letting them drop to the floor below you before letting his fingers glide through your folds, already glistening with your arousal. 
“Fuck, you’re already so wet, baby. Can’t believe this perfect pussy is all mine forever too. God, you’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. Mmmm, I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I have to taste you, Hermosa. Can I, baby?” Javi mewled, making you gasp as he gently slid two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 
“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, Fu-ahhhhh.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked a long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 
While Javi would have loved to take every second of his sweet time to savor in watching you fall apart on his tongue, he knew just as well as you that he was working on a limited schedule, and wanted, no, needed to make sure he could get you off at least once before his luck ran out. 
Javi began to work his tongue against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your heat, his free hand hooking around your thigh and draping it over his shoulder, digging his fingertips into the meat of your flesh, like he was trying to ground himself more than you. 
You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as, his lips now latching around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around Javi’s fingers with every movement of his mouth against you. 
“That’s it, mi amor.” Javi cooed, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Forever. I’ve always got you. Promento (I promise).” 
Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen 
“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so cl-ooohhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 
Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder, shuttering at the loss of Javi’s fingers inside you. He carefully pulled them out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 
“Tastes so fucking sweet. My wife tastes so fucking sweet. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” Javi chuckled with a boyish grin, gently cupping his hand under your chin as the other wrapped around your waist. 
“Get over what? Calling me your wife or eating me out?” You giggled, still trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high, biting down on your lip as your arms draped over Javi’s shoulders, your fingers tracing soft circles at the nape of his neck. 
“Both. Fuck, I love you so much.” 
“I love you so much too, you menace.” You smiled, tilting your head back to kiss Javi again, so blissfully lost in the moment, that the two of you both about jumped out of your skin when you heard a loud knock coming from the bedroom door. 
“Jav? You in here, buddy?” 
“Goddamnit, Murph…” 
The familiar twang of Steve’s voice made you freeze in fear, Javi quickly helping you down off the counter as he cursed to himself before the two of you were trying your best to fix yourselves up in the mirror to try and hide any signs of the horny whirlwind that had blown through the bathroom. 
“Javi?” Steve called out again, continuing to knock on the door. 
“Yeah, I’m here, just uh- Just give me a second, Murph.” Javi sighed, the two of you trying to keep from laughing at your current predicament, wondering how the hell Javi was going to talk you both out of this one. 
“What’s the plan, Peña?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge as he carefully turned the knob to the bathroom door. 
“To tell Murph to fuck off if he tries to give me shit.” The two of you quietly snorted, feeling a little less guilty than you would have if it wasn’t your wedding day. “You stay here, okay? I’ll take care of him.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he opened the door. 
“God, I love you.” 
“I love you too, Osita.” 
Closing the bathroom door behind him, Javi took a few deep breaths as he ran his hands through his hair, turning the knob to open up his bedroom door to be greeted by an unamused Steve leaning in the door frame. 
“What’s up, Murph? We were just, uh-” Javi asked, trying his best to stay casual. 
“I fuckin’ knew it. Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, you horny bastard.” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Y’all haven’t even made it to the ceremony yet! Jesus Fuckin’ Christ. Everyone’s been lookin’ for y’all. I had a fuckin’ feeling this is what you two were up two, and as your Best Man, I’ll cover for your ass now, but I sure as shit ain’t doin’ this all night for you two rabbits. Now c’mon, Casanova, go get your wife from in there and come outside. Remember that thing y’all gotta do where you actually go get married?” Steve teased, slapping Javi in the chest before shaking his head at his friend, his cheeks pink in embarrassment as his eyes darted to the floor. 
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be out in a second.” Javi grumbled sheepishly, quietly accepting defeat. 
“An actual second, ya hear? Not a horny Javier Peña second, or I swear to God.” Steve groaned, raising an eyebrow at Javi. 
“Promise.” 
“Alright then. Chop, chop, Mr. Peña. Let’s go get your ass married.” Steve laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder before giving him a little shake and disappearing back down the hallway. 
Hearing Steve’s voice and footsteps fade, you slowly peeked your head out of the bathroom door to see Javi standing by himself, head buried in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back to see your face, equally embarrassed as his. 
“... He knew, didn’t he?” You grimaced, now fully opening the door and walking through to meet Javi on the other side. 
“Yup.” Javi sighed, adding an extra emphasis to the “p” with a pop. 
“Well… Either Steve has the world’s most unlucky timing, or he just needs to do a better job of minding his business.” The two of you snickered, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared up at Javi. “Or maybe someone needs to stop being such a bad influence.” You teased, poking Javi in the chest. 
“Me? I’m the bad influence? Okay.” Javi chuckled, teasing you right back. “Sorry I’m getting married to the hottest woman alive and I can’t help myself. My gorgeous wife is one not making it any easier on me.” 
“Still not technically your wife yet, you dork.” 
“Close enough.” 
Grabbing you by your waist, Javi pulled you flush against chest, tilting his head in for a long, tender kiss- the kind that made heat creep through your cheeks and butterflies churn in your stomach, the kind that made your heart beat a million miles a minute, the kind that seemed to make everything else in the world stand still, even if just for a moment. The kind of kiss that made you know without a single doubt that you had never been more in love than you were at this very moment. 
“I love you, Javi.” 
“I love you too, Osita.” 
“You wanna go get married?” 
“Mrs. Peña,” Javi grinned, grabbing your hand to interlock it with his, “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more in my fucking life.”
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livingemkayde · 8 months
Text
ch ii. wild things
joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller
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chapter two of chaser
warnings: 18+ minors please dni. kissing. mentions of sexual situations. bit of a love triangle forming. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake). no use of y/n!
a/n: wowza!! after careful consideration i am definitely making this into a series due to all the requests and comments in my inbox!! thanks for all the love on chaser and on my dbf!joel series which you can find all the parts to here. i love u all so much. i had a bit of an idea to write joel x reader mixed with one sided tommy x reader so this will evolve into that. who knows what will happen!! haha….
if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!
You watch his hands on the steering wheel. His thick fingers flicker on the settings for the radio, or tap on the top of the wheel when you stop at a red light.  It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating.  But you already knew that.  “You can’t be starin’ at me like that in the house.”  You blush, snapping out of your dream-like haze. 
For a split second, it does cross your mind to turn around and run away. 
But you’re already here. Joel is looking at you, mouth agape — you’re sure you look the same, if not worse. The little girl standing next to Joel giggles at you, smiling. 
Fuck. 
“Hi,” you say, breathless. You aren’t sure if you’re talking to her or Joel.
 But she squeaks a small hi, reaches for your hand, and pulls you into the house. 
You look up at him as you pass, he sucks in a breath and for a haste second, his eyes glance down towards your chest. Your movements feel slowed as you pass him. Like a scene from a movie — not unlike the feeling you had when you first bumped into him. You look up at him, a worried look fretted on your brow as he closes the door behind you. 
She drops your hand and sits on the couch, Joel sits next to her, you on a love chair across from them. 
It's quiet. 
Way too quiet for what’s supposed to be an interview. 
Joel keeps sending fleeting glances at you like he’s scared of what will happen if he meets your eye for more than two seconds. 
“So…You’re — uh —” he starts, but doesn’t really know how to finish.
“Yeah,” you say for him. He looks back at you, his mouth slightly agape. Joel shakes his head like he’s trying to snap himself out of it. 
“This is Sarah. She’s seven,” he looks down towards her, she looks at you with big brown eyes. Not unlike the one’s attached to the man sitting on the couch beside her. 
“Hi there,” you smile at her. 
“Hi,” she says, her dangling feet swinging off the couch. “You’re really pretty,” she says, shy. 
“Why thank you,” you say, acting flushed. “You’re gorgeous yourself.” 
Sarah blushes. You look at Joel and he stares back. A couple beats of silence and your hands start sweating. 
“Yeah, so I guess I’m your nine a.m,” you say with a breathy chuckle, talking to Joel now — referring to the interview appointment. 
“Guess so,” he says, his southern drawl overtaking his voice. He looks at you with eyes that show a curious emotion. You wonder what he’s thinking. But most of all, you wonder how long this — now ridiculous — interview is gonna take before he tells you to leave. 
So much for a good fuck buddy. 
“I—” he shakes his head again. “Sorry, how old are you?” 
“I’m twenty-three.” 
You are almost certain he swears under his breath. 
“Right,” he says when Sarah gives him a funny look. You had put that on your resume that you submitted a week ago. 
“College grad, or somethin’,” he says, pulling in a sharp breath at the words — and the realization. 
“Yeah — uh — english.” 
“Do you like books?” Sarah cuts into the tension, but she’s oblivious to the heat rising off your cheeks. 
“Love them,” you smile at her, looking around, seeing a children's book on the coffee table separating you. 
Where the Wild Things Are
You smile to yourself. 
“Do you like reading, Sarah?” 
She nods with a grin. 
“I would love to take you down to the library. They��ve got all the books you can imagine,” you say, smiling. 
She giggles and looks up to her dad with pleading eyes. 
You’re not sure why you’re trying so hard to get this kid to like you but after last night, you aren’t really sure about anything anymore. 
You can hear Sarah mumble into Joel’s ear. 
Please, dad? I like her. The lady from yesterday was old.
His eyes cut to yours, and back down to the little girl whispering in his ear. You look around the house nervously. The Carhartt jacket that you distinctly remember from last night is draped on a chair in the kitchen. 
Joel clears his throat, and to everyone in the room’s surprise, extends his hand. He looks a bit scared, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified. But he utters those words in that drawl and you know you’re done for. Like all those hours before in the bar, then in the bathroom, and after that too when he slipped his name and number into your phone. 
“You’re hired.”
You try to reason with yourself in the split second before you extend your hand to meet him. 
Good pay. Sweet kid. Dad who you already fucked. 
It might not be the worst thing — but it certainly doesn’t reign best in your mind. You take his hand after a beat. Your sweaty palm connects with his sturdy one. He gives you one shake and then drops your fingers. Sarah smiles up at you, you anxiously smile back. Joel gives you a gruff look that makes your pulse race.
“When can you start?” He asks after a few seconds. 
“Tomorrow,” you say, maybe a bit too hastily, calming yourself down you reutter, “Tomorrow.” 
“Alright, well… come ‘round eight. I gotta get to work tomorrow,” he stands, you follow him to the door, he mumbles to Sarah to play with some toys while you talk. 
The cool morning air hits your face when he closes the door behind you. You stand face to face, shy eyes bending through the silence from both of you. 
“I—” you stifle an awkward laugh, “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t have come if I’d known, obviously.” 
“Right,” he agrees, looking down at his feet. 
“We can…this can be —” another awkward laugh, “like this okay? Right?” 
“Right,” Joel echoes while sending you a curt nod.  
God, it's like pulling teeth. 
“Look, I’m sorry — we can forget about it, if this is like —” 
“No,” he shakes his head, looking up at you, his brown eyes reflecting sunlight. You didn’t remember his eyes looking like that. But it was dark and you were drunk. 
“It’ll be fine…‘s’alright,” Joel assures, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. 
 “Are you sure? I don’t wanna —” 
“I’m sure,” he chuckles. You catch a glint of the guy from last night — who managed to charm his way into your pants in under ten minutes. He surprised you then, and doesn’t fail to surprise you now. 
“Sarah likes you, so…” you raise your brows at his words, he continues. 
“Been havin’ a tough time findin’ someone she likes, and I have t’work,” he breathes out through stiff lips. 
“I understand.” 
You find yourself asking more, even though it might not be the best idea. But like you thought last night — this guy is intriguing — and getting a glimpse into his life even if you both weren’t ready for it might not be the worst thing. 
“What do you do?” you ask, shy. 
“I — uh — I’m a contractor.” 
You don’t really know much about contracting so you fall short with a reply. 
But he fills the silence. 
“I work with my brother. He’s… he lives not too far away. You’ll probably meet him tomorrow,” he says, arms crossing over his chest. 
“Sounds good,” you say, crossing your own arms, your thin sweater not doing much to protect you from the morning dew.
Joel looks towards the street and furrows his brow. 
“Where do you live?” he asks, blunt. 
Your eyes widen in shock. 
“Jesus — I —” he shakes his head, his fingers pinching his nose bridge. “I just — you don’t have a car, m’sorry,” he looks out towards the empty street. 
“Just…wonderin’ if you needed a ride.” 
And so, the gentleman from last night appears just when you thought this might be hopeless. 
“Oh car’s back at the house — I walked — I actually live like four blocks over on Anderson,” you jut with your thumb in the direction of your childhood home — your parents are letting you stay there while they’re on vacation for the summer. 
“Didn’t know we lived so close,” you note to no one in particular, just speaking aloud. 
“You’re in between me ‘n Tommy,” he says, his voice hoarse. 
Jesus. 
“What?” 
“My brother,” 
This small talk is getting awkward. 
“Oh…right, well — cool. All close together,” you say, pulling a smile even though you feel immensely uncomfortable right now. 
“Yeah,” he echoes. “Cool.” 
“So I’m gonna…” you nod your head to the direction of your house. It looks like that shakes him out of this trance of tension you both were put in together. 
“Yeah, right.”
A goodbye is braced on your lips but you hesitate. 
Mr. Miller? 
Joel? 
Maybe you were better off not calling him anything. 
Especially since the last time you were saying the name ‘Joel’ he was asking you to beg for his cock. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you settle for, stepping off his porch, while looking back at him. 
“Yup,” Joel replies, bluntly, “See you tomorrow.” 
_
On your walk over the next morning, you settle into a quiet stroll. 
It’s early, the birds are chirping and the dew from the young morning seeps into your skin, making your hair a bit damp and frizzy, but you don’t mind. 
You didn’t have much time to look around when you were walking to your interview yesterday. 
Honestly, you’ve never taken a good look at your neighborhood, especially this area. Your whole life you’d been driven around by your parents, never stopping to take in the scenery. 
Austin is amazing in the summer. You don’t mind the heat, you welcome it — the sun feels good on your back when you walk over. 
You see a black pick-up truck pull into Joel’s driveway as you round the corner and make your way down the street. 
A man steps out, he’s young — younger than Joel — but you can see the resemblance. You suspect this is the ‘Tommy’ Joel had mentioned yesterday. 
You break into a soft jog to greet him before he walks into the house. 
“Hey,” you say, somewhat breathless. He stares back at you with a confused look on his face. 
“I — uh — I’m Sarah’s new babysitter,” you say while extending your hand. 
He takes it, the recognition of your title sinking in — a smile is brought to his face — it lights up the entire area. 
“Oh — right. Joel said somethin’ ‘bout the babysitter coming this mornin’,” he shakes your hand, its soft grip squeezes yours once and then lets you go. “I’m Tommy, Sarah’s uncle.” 
“Yes — Joel said you guys work together.” 
“Yeah, that’s right,” he says, chuckling. You smile back at him. 
He looks down and sees your bag slung over your shoulder. 
“Let me get that for you,” he says, reaching down to grab the strap of your bag and slipping it off your arm. 
“Oh — thanks,” you try to hide your blush as you follow Tommy to the front door. 
“No problem,” he mumbles, stepping onto the porch, in a light jog, you follow after. 
The door opens before you reach it, a sleepy Joel miller peaks his head out at the noise. 
When he sees it's you and Tommy, he straightens out a bit, a questioning look on his brows. 
“What’s up man,” Tommy brushes past him into the house, you can see him set your bag down on the couch. “Found your new hire,” he teases from inside, already rushing to the kitchen before you’re able to cross the threshold.
You don’t want to squeeze past like Tommy, so you wait for Joel to invite you in. 
“Good morning,” you smile up at him, he towers over you, leaning against the doorframe. 
“Mornin’,” he replies. 
“I just — ran into him outside the house,” you say shyly. 
What are you trying to prove? 
He smiles at you, maybe even matching the smile he had on at the bar. The smile you fell for instantly. A puddle at his feet — this time? No exception. 
“Just come in,” he chuckles, walking away from the doorframe to let you in. 
Sarah squeals from near the couches, running up to you and giving you a big hug. You chuckle while looking at the men in the kitchen. 
“Hi.” 
“Hey, kiddo,” you smile down at her. 
“Can you take me to the library today?” 
“Woah, woah slow your roll. I got a lot to show you before we hit the library,” her smile gets bigger if that’s possible. “I even have some special toys I brought just for you in my bag,” you whisper. 
She laughs, hanging off your arm, and then trots into the kitchen. You follow her. 
“So this is my number,” Joel says when you arrive, putting a piece of paper up on the fridge. 
“Oh, I already—” 
“Call ‘f you need anythin’.” 
Your eyes snap to him when he cuts you off, giving you a knowing look. You blush in favor of arguing, understanding why. 
This might be harder than you initially thought. Especially when you’re in his house, and everything smells like him — like that night. And his brother won’t stop looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 
You catch Tommy in his staring, he quickly looks back down to his cereal. 
“We’ll be back ‘round five,” Joel says, looking over at the calendar hanging on the wall. 
“Tuesday, dad,” Sarah chimes in when he squints at the calendar. 
“Right. Tuesday,” he sighs, his eyes briefly meeting yours across the kitchen. “Tuesday is Chinese. We’ll pick it up on the way home,” he says, nodding at the information. 
“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner,” Tommy cuts through the tension, smiling at you. Your eyes dart to Joel’s — he has an indifferent look on his face. 
You’re not really sure what to say but the entire Miller family looks back at you with the same set of big brown eyes, a couple sets are pleading, one set is scared. 
“Oh, okay. Yeah, thanks,” you smile back at Tommy. You hope things will be better by tonight because this is getting weird and you only have olives and a carton of eggs in the fridge back home. 
“I’m gonna go load the truck,” Tommy mumbles, still chewing the rest of his breakfast while standing. 
“It was very nice to meet you,” he smiles at you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “If you need anything you can always call me, left my number under Joel’s.” 
You smile, but gruff words pull you away from Tommy. 
“If you need anythin’, call me,” Joel says, emphasizing me. 
You wonder if Tommy touched a nerve. 
Tommy smiles with a teasing lilt, you thank him as he exits. 
“Hang on a sec, Sarah, I’m gonna walk your dad out and then I’ll make you breakfast,” you say, following Joel out. 
Tommy’s head is in the backseat of the truck, rummaging through things. You stand in front of Joel on the porch. 
“Listen this is like…” you aren’t sure what you think this is, but it’s kinda unbearable. 
“Yeah, I know,” he replies gruffly. “It’s — it’s done. Right? We can be professional.” 
“Yeah,” you reply, your voice small. “Professional,” you laugh. His bright eyes mirror yours. 
“Guess I should call you Mr. Miller, then.” 
He sucks in a sharp breath. 
“Don’t call me that,” he says, a chaste chuckle braced on his lips. 
“Joel,” he whispers. “Just Joel.” 
“Okay,” you smile back at him. You can’t help but feel the spark like the night at the bar, when his hands were all over you, and you couldn’t see anyone but him. 
“Just Joel.” 
He nods and steps down from the porch. 
He waves goodbye with two lazy fingers lifting from the wheel as he backs out. 
_
“She’s pretty.” 
Tommy’s voice cuts through the tense silence in the truck. An old country song rings through the worn interior. The A/C is blasting, the sun beating down on them through the sunroof. 
Joel grunts in response. 
“You don’t think so?” 
“Think she’s my kid’s babysitter,” Joel mutters while Tommy stifles a laugh. Joel turns down a street, heading towards the onramp for the interstate. They’re meeting with a new client today, big work on the line. Joel can’t be thinking of you.  
“So you’re not into her?” 
Joel takes a while to respond. Tommy shifts a bit nervously in his seat. But finally — finally — Joel lets out a long sigh and responds. The single word sent Tommy’s way, making him grin— 
“Nope.” 
“Alright,” Tommy says, content. 
It rubs Joel the wrong way. 
“‘Alright’ what?” 
“I think I’m gonna ask her out.” 
When Joel doesn’t respond, Tommy speaks again. 
“Do you think she’ll say yes?” 
“I don’t know. Known her two seconds” Joel bites back a bit too harshly. 
A few tense seconds pass. 
Tommy starts again but Joel cuts him off. 
“Jesus, can we just —” Joel reaches down to turn the radio up. The music drowns out any conversation on the tip of his tongue — kills anything he might regret saying. He tries to let it go. 
Tommy lets it go too. 
_
“Sarah!” you shout from the kitchen.
You look down to the kitchen counter. The sandwich stares back at you. You slather one side with blackberry jam you picked up from the farmers market. The other side with some peanut butter. Crust off, Sarah had pleaded with you yesterday when you picked her up from soccer camp. 
You move to cut the crust off. 
The front door opens from behind you, you don’t bother turning around, knowing who it is before he greets you—
“Hey, baby,” Tommy rounds the corner and gives you a small hug. You hear the front door shut in his wake. You look down to your fingers, the peanut butter getting a bit messy from the heat in the kitchen. 
“Hey,” you reply softly. 
It's been a couple weeks since you started taking care of Sarah. You fell into the Miller’s daily routines with ease, eating dinner with them most nights. Tommy and you have grown close. He’s a friend, a confidant. Someone who you can count on no matter what.  
He’s good conversation, but an even better listener. You find yourself talking to him most nights on the drive home, and even sometimes after that when you invite him in for coffee and a drink. You can talk about anything and he’ll listen, giving his two cents when necessary, becoming a better friend than you could’ve anticipated. 
Anything he had said the first night you invited him in.
You can talk to me about anything. 
You had smiled at him. You wanted to talk to him about anything. And you talked to him about most things — but never all. 
Because there was always Joel.  
“Sarah!” you shout again, checking the clock and seeing it was almost eight. “Get your bag kiddo, I gotta drop you off at soccer by 8:15.” 
You hear her small voice let out a muffled coming as you finish packing up her lunch. 
“Need a ride?” Tommy asks from behind you. 
“I thought you and Joel had to meet with that electrician guy today,” you throw over your shoulder. 
“I always got time for you,” he says in a teasing upswing. You just laugh in response, trying to brush it off. 
You know Tommy is a flirt. You can see it when you go out with him, girls fawn at his feet because he’s charming. The woman bagging your groceries, the waitress at the diner, the neighborhood mom’s coming over to talk when he washes the truck outside Joel’s house. 
You see it all — and you don’t mind when it spills over onto you. It’s just how he is. 
“Brought my car today, thanks though,” you nod at him as you pass the kitchen table, putting Sarah’s lunch bag on the counter.
You hear footsteps rounding the corner, hoping it’s Sarah, but as you look up, Joel’s eyes catch yours. 
“Dammit,” you mumble.  
“G’mornin’ to you too,” Joel says back, sending you a look. 
“No — sorry, just —” you brush him off, he joins Tommy at the table. “Sarah!” 
“We’re gonna be late,” you mumble to him, he sips on his coffee. 
“I’ll give you a ride,” Joel says from his seat, motioning to the truck. 
Tommy’s brows raise, waiting for your response.
“Thanks but I brought my car today,” you brush him off. 
“Surprised that thing still drives,” Joel grumbles under his breath. 
“Shut up, will you?” you say, half teasing, sending him a playful scowl. 
“It ain’t safe is all ‘m sayin’, you sh—” he cuts himself off at the look you give him. 
Tommy whistles from across the table. 
It might look okay. And it might feel okay too. But when you're alone at night and you can’t sleep — you think about Joel. The fleeting glances from the day. The way his hand touched yours when you guys cleaned up dinner. 
It wasn’t torture — but it sure felt like something similar. 
You don’t miss how Joel scowls a bit when Tommy flirts with you playfully. But things seem to be cordial between them — as cordial as brothers can be. 
Sarah skips down the steps, her hair falling out of the pony tail she tried to put up herself. 
“C’mere, kiddo, we gotta fix your hair,” you say when she reaches the bottom step, pointing to a chair beside her dad and uncle. 
Sarah sits, you brush through her hair with a comb, securing it with an elastic. You can feel both men’s eyes on you. 
“All set,” you pat her shoulders, she finishes breakfast, racing to put her shoes on as you grab your keys. 
Tommy stands at your exit. 
“I’ll walk you out,” he says, taking one last sip of his coffee before putting the dishes in the sink. He meets you in the foyer, you scramble to get your sandals on, Sarah slipping into her cleats as you bend down to tie her laces. Tommy grabs your keys and goes to start your car. 
“Bye, Joel,” you yell from the entryway, something deep and gruff rings back from the kitchen.
When you open the door, the soft sunlight hits you. Sarah skips out towards Tommy, he picks her up, throws her up in the air, she laughs and giggles. He lets her settle into the backseat of your car. He opens the door for you, giving you a small hug as you check the time on your phone. 
8:10 am. 
“See you later, baby.” 
“Bye Tommy,” you chuckle at his words, shaking your head as you climb into the driver’s seat. 
_
Honestly, Joel is right. 
You’re confused on how this car still drives. It was your mom’s from when she was in college. It sat in your garage, collecting dust until you pleaded with your parents to fix it up for you. Maybe it’s sentimental value or maybe you just can’t afford another car, but you’ve driven it ever since. 
It’s never been a problem for you. Not until this moment when you found yourself on the side of the road, two blocks away from where you dropped off Sarah.  
Your phone rings in your hand as you hold it up to your ear, leaning against the hood of the car while you look down at the very obviously flat tire. 
“Tommy?” you bite quickly when he picks up. 
What’s up? 
“My tire’s fucked. I need a tow,” you grovel. 
Oh shit. Uh — I can’t leave right now, the electrician needs me. 
“Fuck,” you huff into the hot air. “Okay, I’ll call Triple A, thanks.” 
You’re about to hang up, but a deep voice cuts through the line, Tommy answers it with a tone that you can’t read.
Joel’s comin’.
Your breath hitches. 
Text him where you are.
You find yourself nodding even though he can’t see you. 
“O-okay. Tell him I said thanks,” 
He just left. Listen I gotta —
“Oh – no yeah, sorry. See you later. Thanks.” 
Yeah. Bye.
You shoot Joel a quick text, your fingers shaking unexpectedly. 
You only wait for about ten minutes before you see the black pick up roll around the corner. He pulls up in front of you, and backs up so the hitch is in line with your car. 
Joel gets out, moving to hook everything up. 
“Joel, I’m so sorry, I—” 
“Hey,” he looks at you, you stare back with wide eyes. You were half expecting him to be mad or annoyed. But you forgot how he is. A gentleman. 
“‘S’alright, sweetheart.” 
Sweetheart? 
From Joel Miller? 
But he gives you a pat on the shoulder, motioning for you to help him, unaware he just made you weak at the knees. 
You get everything hooked up, he opens the door for you like always. 
You get in the truck and are met with a tense silence as he rolls into the middle of the road. 
“Don’t say it,” you say, looking over at him, teasingly, waiting for the inevitable, I told you so.
“Wasn’t gonna say anythin’,” he smirks. 
“I know you’re thinking it though.” 
“I know you are, too.” 
“You jinxed me,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. 
“I ain’t jinx nothin’.” 
“You so did. This morning, at breakfast,” you say, pointing an accusing finger at him. 
“I just said I was surprised it still runs.” 
“Yeah and now look what happened.” 
He laughs, you both do.
You’re met with silence for a long time. He turns down a couple streets, heading back to his house. 
“You called Tommy.” 
You suddenly feel like it’s harder to breathe. 
“Yeah.” 
“I’m always here if you need anythin’...” he says, but trails off, shaking his head. 
“I know. I just didn’t want to bother you,” you whisper. 
“You’re never a bother,” he says in that drawl. He takes a glance over at you then back to the road. 
You gulp. 
You watch his hands on the steering wheel. His thick fingers flicker on the settings for the radio, or tap on the top of the wheel when you stop at a red light. 
It’s intoxicating.
He’s intoxicating. 
But you already knew that. 
“You can’t be starin’ at me like that in the house.” 
You blush, snapping out of your dream-like haze. 
“I — I’m sorry.” 
He grunts. 
You want to ask him. To talk to him. You want to know if he’s been thinking about you like you’ve been thinking about him. If you crawl into his sleepless nights, his daydreams, his every waking moment like he does to you. 
You’re talking before you know any better. 
“Can I ask you something?” 
His reply is hesitant, but he motions for you to continue. When you find your voice, you manage to squeak out your question before you shut down and die from embarrassment. 
“Is this hard for you?” 
“‘S what hard? Drivin’?” he teases, you give him a shove but he doesn’t react to your touches. 
“You know what I mean.” 
“Not sure I do.” 
Damn. 
Maybe this is all in your head. Maybe when he told you that whatever this might be is over like he did all those weeks ago, he really meant it. 
You shut up after that. Not really noticing your new found silence. 
But Joel does. 
He pulls up to the house, putting the car in park. He hops out first, opening your door, you walk by his side towards the front door. 
When you step onto the porch you expect him to unlock the door, but he turns to you, surprisingly breaking the silence.
“Yes,” he says in a gruff voice. 
You wait with bated breath for him to continue, until he doesn’t. 
“What?” 
“It’s hard for me,” he continues, you look at him.
He looks at you — almost with pleading eyes. It looks like he’s pained to say it. 
“To see you everyday and not…” he trails off, but you know what he means. The thought sends a tell tale stickiness down in between your thighs. 
You nod. 
“It was kinda a fucked up coincidence,” you huff a laugh. He hums in agreement. 
You stand there with him, the tension building to an all time high. 
“Yeah,” he says after a while. “Fucked up.”
“It was —” you bite your tongue. Not sure whether or not to dig up the incident at the bar you both fought so hard to bury. To conceal your relationship from everyone, including yourselves. 
“I know,” he agrees. 
You look at Joel through your lashes. 
He looks handsome. 
He’s always handsome, but when he looks at you with a glint in his eyes and the sunlight makes his brown eyes caramel, it's something entirely different. 
You take a tentative step forward. He doesn’t move back. 
“I’ve missed you,” you say in a hushed whisper.
It’s true. You missed his presence. Most of your time being taken up by Sarah or Tommy. If this whole babysitting thing didn’t happen between you and Joel, you would probably be seeing him at least once a week. 
At least. 
He huffs out a sigh, taking a half step towards you. He looks at you almost sympathetically. And when his hand comes to angle your chin up towards him, his look becomes more painful. 
 Maybe this is the part where he kisses you, and everything melts away. 
He dips his head down slowly. You keep looking back up to his eyes and down to his approaching lips to gauge whether or not this is a mistake. 
Even though you both know it is. 
His lips brush yours, you tremble, but his phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of it. 
He looks down, at the screen lighting up with Tommy’s name sprawled across it. 
“Hello?” Joel answers. 
Joel? Where the hell are you? The electrician — 
You stop listening after that, stepping back. Joel mumbles some words on the phone while unlocking the front door and opening it for you, like always. 
You give him a small smile and nod for him to go back to his truck. 
He gives you a look — later? 
You nod your head yes while shutting the door. 
Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you slump onto the couch. 
Later he had said with his eyes. 
_
chapter iii. diced
taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!
@sofiparallel @jasminedragoon @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565
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runningfrom2am · 2 months
Text
cold nights // part ten
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summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 3.3k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.
a/n: playlist coming v soon!!
series masterlist // playlist
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Coriolanus lets out a scream of anger as he pulls the weight of the cement block down on the boy again, dishing out every last bit of rage he had over the inconvenience he had caused. He had to. He was sure the tribute was already dead, but one more hit couldn't hurt- not when he needed to make sure he was really done; not when it felt so powerful the first time.
He's breathing heavily, staring down at the body in front of him with his curls falling in his face, preventing him from seeing reality. Shielding him from seeing you.
You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. To ask if he's okay, but clearly he is- that final blow was too late to be a hit out of desperation, panic, or pain. It was pure, unnecessary retaliation. It went against everything you stood for. Everything you said.
Coriolanus was Coriolanus indeed; you could see it in the darkness that suddenly appeared behind his eyes. It was like he had done it for fun.
He looks up only when you take a step back, shoe crunching over the rubble underneath your sole and alerting him to your presence.
"Y/N-"
You look between the boy you thought you knew and the battered body on the ground. You take another hasty step back.
The power he thought he felt was replaced instantly by guilt when he saw the look on your face. He wasn't sure your kind features were even capable of showing an emotion so abrasive as disgust- but that was all he could think of to describe what he had to guess was going on behind your eyes. Betrayal, maybe. Horror, even, at something he had done. He moves to take a step toward you, dropping the metal rod in his hand so maybe you'd give him the chance to explain but you were taking off like a bird in the street threatened by a moving car the second he moved a muscle. He freezes, hand extended toward you despite you being too far to reach.
You were scared. Of him.
He very quickly had more pressing matters than your understanding or coping with the idea that you had run from him since he was now hearing the war cry of Coral and her pack as they ran from the tunnels toward the exit he was standing under.
He was grateful you had fled before that, hoping they didn't see you before you hid away again. He hops back over the gate, grabbing Sejanus and forcing him through the front entrance just in time.
"For Coriolanus, when I am gone."
He reads over the words on the outside of the intricately folded note over and over again, sitting at his desk and trying to ignore the stitches pulling at his back. Sejanus had given the note to him when he was discharged from the hospital. A note from you. It was a goodbye, he knew it. Something about your delicate handwriting on the outside felt so sacred to him.
"My Dearest Corio,
For once, I cannot express with words what I need to say to you. Regrettably, Sejanus is waiting so I must find something to say soon. I'll begin with thank you. You told me not to thank you until you had done something for me, but what you didn't understand was that you already had. Having a friend at the end has meant the world to me. I wish I could tell my family about you. When I can't sleep at night, I think of how much they would love you, and how we could sit together in the field at night and look at the stars. I hope one day you get to see them.
I apologize that I have to ask one more thing of you. I admit, I do not know how your mentorship works, but I hope with all my heart that I have done enough for you to win your prize. I regret that I will never know. I'm sorry that you ended up with me, you deserved better. I feel like you weren't given a choice, though I know you would never admit that. I digress. All I ask is that you do not forget me. You don't have to feel guilt, or think of me all the time, I just hope you read Romeo and Juliet one day and guess which parts were my favourite. Or that if you're out on cold nights when the breeze chills your skin, you'll think of us. I also hope that is not too much to ask of you. I suppose, again, I will never know.
If I can take your position for a moment and mentor you; I have some advice I would like to offer. Be whatever you want to be, do what you want to do. Don't let anything or anyone stop you from being good. Your kindness, Corio, was not lost on me while I had the pleasure of knowing you. I've seen who you are, and I will never forget.
I must tell you posthumously that you are the closest thing to my own Romeo Montague I have been lucky enough to have in my life, but our story is different. You get to grow up, change, have a life, and fall in love. Please do. See the beauty in everything and do not let the cruelties of the world change the goodness in your soul.
"Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!"
With love and not nearly enough time,
Y/N
He couldn't resist unfolding the page in his hands and reading it. Every inch of the page was covered in your scrawled print, urgent from not wanting to keep Sejanus waiting for too long. You were still very much alive, but he was probably dead to you and he saw that in your eyes as you looked at him with nothing short of fear. He was supposed to be your Romeo, or at least you thought so when you wrote it. And he wanted that for you. He regrets so deeply that he took that perspective from you. It was a mistake- but maybe, if you won, you would see that for what it was and forgive him.
He wanted to crush up the note and throw it against the wall, tear it to shreds and light it on fire and burn away the fact he had ever met you, but he knew he didn't want to. It was all he would have left of you. He couldn't lose it, even if he hated himself for ruining what you could have had.
Instead, he folded it back up and put it on the shelf where his mother's compact once was before crawling into bed and crying until he finally passed out.
"You can explain it to her, Coryo. I know she will be reasonable." Tigris smiles sadly at him, helping him once again with his blazer following yet another back injury.
He hadn't said anything to trigger her sympathies this morning besides having puffy eyes in her presence. Though, the wall that separates their bedrooms is thin- it was likely that despite the muffling of his sheets, she had heard his cries. He had told her everything, he always did.
"Would you like me to come with you today? I can miss just one day of work, no harm will be done." His cousin offers. He wants to decline, her income is all they had, but if Coryo was being honest with himself, he needed someone in his corner.
"Okay." He agrees quietly and she smiles, patting the front of his uniform.
"I'll grab my things, can you wait a few moments?" She asks, already heading for her room.
"Of course." He nods. In another moment of self-honesty, he realizes he doesn't even want to go. But he had to be there. For you. If you had even survived the night.
When you decided there was enough daylight, you crawled back deeper into the vents. Seemingly you were safe there, if you had to guess it was almost noon and no one had bothered you. You were on your way to check on Jessup- that was a better use of your time than dwelling on what you witnessed last night and slipping deeper and deeper into a downward spiral.
You approach the grate in the vent you entered through, peeking in to see if he was still there. "Jessup?" You whisper, unable to see him. Worried when you get no response, you slide the cover off and hang your head out of it to look around. He was curled up against the wall across the room, and he looked distressed. Shaking, crying, skin ashen.
"Jessup?" You call toward him again, beginning to climb down to go check on him.
He's not responsive to you, not as you take a few hesitant steps closer. "Are you okay?"
His head snaps up to look at you. "Y/N?"
You smile a little, surprised he even remembered your name in his state. "Hi." You crouch down in front of him. "What do you need? Are you holding up okay?"
Again, no response.
"I'll get you some supplies." You whisper to him, knowing that if the microphones pick it up, Coryo would likely send you nothing when you emerge into the open area. He was very clear that you shouldn't share, but Jessup clearly needed help. He'd been down here for over a day without food or water, but now, you didn't know that you had anyone to help. You had Coryo and Sejanus, but now Sejanus hated you and Coryo was never who you thought he was. It had haunted you all night.
"I'll be back soon, okay?" You smile at Jessup reassuringly, standing and untying the scarf so you can get back up into the vents.
Coryo hadn't heard what you said to the boy, but when you reemerged from the vents after checking it was mostly clear, he knew what you were there for. It was decently safe, spare for Reaper who had collected and covered several bodies with a torn flag while you were gone. Making eye contact with him startles you, but you don't move. Neither does he. You give him a nod of understanding as he kneels next to the aboveground grave, which he returns. Lamina wasn't on her beam anymore, and that makes your heart clench. It took you a long time to get from one place to the next using the vents- anything could have happened in the time you weren't watching.
Now that you've established that you're safe, you look to the nearest camera with hopeful and tired eyes. Coryo knows you want to bring whatever he would send back down to Jessup.
He chews his lip, looking between you and the small screen in front of him. He shouldn't enable you to help another tribute, but it did look fruitless. Jessup was not well, not at all, and it would be a waste to even bother feeding him. At the same time, after what he had done last night, after what you witnessed, he would have to buy back your trust. Allowing you to help your friend is his only way to do that, at the moment. So he selects the water and sends it, followed by some bread.
You receive it, giving a weak, almost hesitant smile to the camera with the food and water tucked against your chest. "Thank you." He can only read your lips before you disappear again.
Climbing back out of the vent, this time with a water bottle and some bread in hand as you drop to the ground, you startle your friend. "Hey, Jessup." You say, raising your free hand to calm him. "I brought you something to eat."
You approach him carefully as he stares at you. You hold the items out to him, but he doesn't take them. "Do you want some help?" You offer, kneeling down in front of him. "Here," You tear off some of the bread and try to hand it to him. After not eating enough for so long, smaller pieces would probably be easier. "It may be a little dusty from the vent, but it's still good. You need to eat."
Then, without warning, he slaps the items out of your hand and shoves you back. "What did you do to it?!" He shouts as you fall back on your butt, quickly shuffling yourself back away from him.
"Nothing! Nothing, Jessup, shh, we gotta be quiet down here..." You try and calm him, still backing away.
"You're trying to kill me!" He yells, ignoring your pleas for him to be quiet, reaching for the now empty and broken water bottle that spilled out over the floor.
"I would never, I just want to help!" You try and assure him, standing up and backing away. Clearly, he doesn't want to talk as he's jumping at you, now with a weapon in hand.
You have to run. There's no time to get back into the vent, making a run for the door and throwing yourself through the hole at the bottom.
"Why would you do this?!" He shouts after you as you run down the halls of the tunnel, still trying to stay as quiet as possible through your heavy breathing. "What have you done?!"
"Lyssie- what is he doing?" Coryo asks his classmate next to him, thankful now that you are apparently such a fast runner.
"I- I don't know. He wouldn't betray her like this." She replies with a slight shake of her head, eyes glued to the screen.
"She's fast enough, but she can't get back in the vents while she's being chased." Coryo says, as if either of them could do anything, but he was as helpless as you were.
You slide to a halt in the long, rounded hallway when you see Coral round the corner in front of you. Jessup was sick, he wasn't fast, but you couldn't turn back. You were cornered, and there was nowhere to go but up. You look up, scanning the overhead vent system for a grate but see none. Turning quickly, you look along the ceiling toward Jessup as he makes his way toward you with the broken water bottle. You'd rather try your odds with him than Coral and the others.
Your eyes land on a grate just ahead of you as you hear footsteps and shouting closing in on you from both directions. With shaking hands you scramble to untie the scarf as you run back toward Jessup, throwing it back over the pipe and using all your strength to pull yourself up into the ceiling, hitting in the grate and pulling yourself inside. "Jessup, Jessup! Run! Hurry!" You try and urge him, but it's like he doesn't hear you, jumping to jab at you with the bottle. He misses, luckily, but Coral never does.
Coryo watches with bated breath while you struggle to pull yourself up, abandoning your friend to his fate. He cringes as he watches Jessup fall, the inflicted wounds being just hidden by Tanner's form and the buzzer goes off.
"Oh, and that's the end for Jessup as his district partner climbs into the ceiling!" Lucky's voice sounds distant to him. "Lysistrata, get out of here and Coriolanus, you may want to start packing your things as well."
He wouldn't budge. He's not packing a single thing until you're done taking your final breaths. Lyssie sighs and shakes her head, tears in her eyes as she pats Coryo's shoulder. "If this is it for her, I'm so sorry..." She apologizes before taking her leave.
Your heart is beating out of your chest as you pull yourself almost fully into the vent. You don't make it smoothly, though, crying out in pain as you feel the prongs of Coral's trident plunging into your calf. Your blood drips down your leg and on top of the other tributes as you finally make your way all the way in. You don't have time to feel any pain as you quickly crawl away. They know where you are, she could stab up into the vent just below you and catch you again- you had to find a way up farther.
"Y/N! We know where you've been hiding now, you're not safe in there!" Coral calls after you, and you have to ignore it as you slide through the metal tube, feeling it get slick from the blood pooling underneath you with every movement.
You don't hear them following you, though, so when you finally make it to where you can climb up to the next level, you feel a lot safer. Your chest is heaving as you sit up on the edge of the drop-down to the tunnels, just given enough room in the T intersection of the vents to take a breath and look at your leg.
You hiss as you lift your leg, assessing the puncture wounds. They wouldn't be fatal if you stopped the bleeding. You exhale shakily, pressing down on the flesh with your palms, pain shooting up your leg and into your back. You don't have anything to use to help besides the scarf, but it was Coryo's. You don't want to ruin it.
You didn't have a choice. You grab the material that you had dragged along with you, wrapping it tightly around the skin. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry,.." You cry, knowing he can't see or hear you.
Coryo is already panicking. Just like Highbottom had said, you could be dead in there and he wouldn't know. The panic only escalates when the cameras follow Coral, Treech, Tanner, and Mizzen as they go back up to the main floor, and Treech and Tanner go for the two main vent entrances, all of them too focused on you to even notice or care that Reaper was sat in the same clearing.
You don't hear it for a few minutes. The bleeding in your leg had mostly stopped, soaking the silk material by the time you heard the familiar clang of shifting metal. Someone else was in the vents.
You look behind you, trying to discern which direction they were coming from, but it was nearly impossible to tell with the echo. You had to move, but you could be crawling right into your fate. Maybe you should just stay and wait and let it happen.
As the noises got closer from both sides, accompanied by coughing from the dust, you knew you couldn't just wait. You'd made it this far, and as far as you knew, no one else knew the vents nearly as well. That was an advantage you had sought from the very beginning, and now was the time to use it.
You gently lower yourself down to slide back the way you came, hitting the bottom level with a bang before ducking out of sight and around a corner. It couldn't have been Coral up there, she would be taunting you by now, but she wasn't. It was quiet until you heard whispers up from where you just were.
"There's blood on this side. She must have gone back down." You recognize Treech's voice when you hear it, and you hold your breath as you fiddle with the compact in your pocket. Stroking your thumb over the carved metal over and over again, trying to stay quiet. "Look, there's a trail going that way."
"Down we go, then." Tanner replies, making your heart stop. You couldn't fight them off, you knew that, and there was a trail of your own blood that would lead them straight to you. You couldn't hide.
You slowly pull the compact from your pocket, turning it over in your palm. You swore you wouldn't participate in the games. You wouldn't harm anyone. But maybe, if you 'accidentally' spilled its contents in the vent before you had to move on, they would stop following you.
Before you can think too much about it, you're holding your breath and opening the small clasp. It just looked like salt. Yeah. It's salt. You already believe it as you gently tip the container, making a thin line of the substance across the bottom of the vent. Salt is for protection. The salt will keep me safe.
You pocket the compact again and quietly crawl away.
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taglist: @soulessjourney , @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @baybieruth , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore ,
okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry! hopefully for part eleven it'll be business as usual!
also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)
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wardenparker · 2 months
Text
Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2
Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
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After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.
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Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.
Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.
If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”
“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"
“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”
"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.
“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”
"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.
He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.
"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.
“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”
"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"
“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”
"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."
“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”
"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."
"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.
You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."
"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.
"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.
"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."
"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.
"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."
"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."
"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."
"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.
"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."
"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."
"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."
The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."
"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'
"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."
“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”
"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."
“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.
“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.
Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.
“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”
“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”
“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.
“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”
“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”
Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”
“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”
“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.
“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.
“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”
"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.
“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”
"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.
“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.
"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."
“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”
“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.
“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.
“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”
Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”
“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.
“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”
“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”
He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”
“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.���
“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”
“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.
“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.
“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”
“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”
“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”
“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.
“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”
“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”
“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”
“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.
Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.
“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.
“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.
“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.
“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”
At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”
“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”
“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.
Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”
“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”
“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.
There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”
“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”
“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”
“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”
"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."
“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”
“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”
“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.
It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.
He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.
“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”
Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”
“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”
“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”
“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”
“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.
“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”
“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”
“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.
“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”
Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”
“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.
Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”
“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.
“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”
"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.
“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”
"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"
“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”
"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."
“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.
"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."
“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”
"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."
“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”
It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."
“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”
"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"
Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."
“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.
“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.
“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.
“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”
“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”
He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”
“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.
You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”
“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”
“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”
“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”
Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.
“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.
“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”
“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”
Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.
“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”
“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”
“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”
“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”
"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.
“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”
"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."
“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.
Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”
“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”
“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.
“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.
"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."
“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”
"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.
“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.
"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."
“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.
"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."
She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.
"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.
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The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.
He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.
You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.
“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.
“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”
“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”
“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”
“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”
“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.
"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."
“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”
"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."
“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”
"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."
“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.
It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.
“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”
"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"
“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.
"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."
“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.
"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."
“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”
"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.
“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”
“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”
“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”
“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”
“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.
Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”
Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”
"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."
He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”
"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."
“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”
"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.
By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”
"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."
“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”
"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.
“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”
"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."
"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.
"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."
"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.
"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."
He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.
"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."
Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.
"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.
"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.
You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.
"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.
"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.
"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.
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"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.
“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”
“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”
She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”
“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”
“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”
“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”
“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”
“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”
“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”
“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”
“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”
“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”
“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.
“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.
“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”
“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.
“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.
“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.
“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”
“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”
“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”
“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”
“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”
“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.
“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.
“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.
You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”
“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.
“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.
“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”
“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.
Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”
“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”
“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.
“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”
Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”
“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”
“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”
“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”
“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”
“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.
“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”
“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”
“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.
“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”
“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”
“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.
“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”
“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”
“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”
“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”
“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”
“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”
"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."
“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.
______
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irondad-defensesquad · 2 months
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My Irondad fic recs!
I thought of doing this because why not? Admittedly, I'm not reading as much fanfiction as I did a couple years ago, but some fics have changed my life entirely. In case I forgot one, I'll add it later!
I would’ve organized this in a bullet list, but Tumblr hates me and invented a character limit for that. So this is going to be long and will be under the cut. Anyway, let’s do this!
Rare and Sweet As Cherry Wine by loubuttons – I've mentioned this one before, but this fic right here was what inspired me to write my own Irondad works. One very particular detail I like about it is how it portrays Maria, Tony's mother. It's not what I usually see in other fics about Tony's childhood, since they tend to make Howard the big bad parent. Of course, this is because I personally related to it, as I don't believe in the "bad parent vs. good parent". I also like that it praises Edwin Jarvis as the one who looked out for Tony the most. It's pretty realistic and a very melancholic character study, IMO. *TW for abuse and neglect*
You're Always Iron Man by madasthesea – a very short fic but I absolutely love the premise. Takes place after the big battle in Iron Man 2, and Tony finds little Peter again. They have a very endearing interaction. The following chapter is also very cute!
Nothing like a fresh cup of humiliation in the morning by madasthesea – Pure fluff! This one is probably a classic in the Irondad fandom. Tony kisses Peter's forehead without second thought. Shenanigans ensue. It's so adorable and funny. If you just want to read fluff without angst, this one is for you.
when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by madasthesea - I think I heard about this fic thanks to @/irondadfics here on Tumblr, but I might be wrong since I already knew the Nice work, kid series. Anyway, Peter is believed to be dead, so Tony (and the rest of the Avengers team) is mourning him. In reality, Peter is astral projecting. You know, sort of like how Stephen Strange, in his first movie, was fighting a guy in the other dimension while his body on Earth was struggling to live. That's basically what happens. Strange appears, of course, and saves the day. And I pretty much LOVE the presumed dead trope. I don't know why. Maybe it's the angst of it all. *TW for grief/mourning and temporary character death*
The Reason by doctornineandthreequarters – I think I read this one when I was still writing Oh, take me back to the start. I was looking for fics for inspiration, and I found this one. During the Time Heist in Endgame, Tony remembers the reason he's fighting to bring everyone else back. It's very emotional.
Couch Cuddles by happyaspie – Classic sickfic, but with more fluff than anything. I like rereading it when I feel lonely and touch-starved, especially when I'm also sick like Peter.
You’re So Much Like Me (I’m Sorry) by SpaceCowboysFromMars – Irondad + Miles Morales! Peter is an adult in this, and he freaks out when an injured Miles arrives in his apartment. Tony gives him some wisdom about mentoring and parenting. I don’t usually find Irondad stories featuring Miles (and not necessarily a Spider-Verse crossover), so this was a nice discovery. Peter & Miles & Tony is a very underrated trio IMO. *TW for slight gore*
I'm Glad I Have You by punkybunny – Peter has been having a rough time, dealing with loneliness as Aunt May is not home often, and with bullying at school... until he finally has the chance to spend time with Tony. However, the demons don't disappear completely. Obviously, more Hurt/Comfort, lmao. *TW for nightmare/bad dream*
I Want to Trust You by punkybunny – Actually part of a series that, admittedly, I haven't read all the other stories. But even this one is a very interesting concept on its own. This is a Hydra Peter AU, after Peter has been rescued. He gets sick but given his past in Hydra, he thinks Tony is going to get angry. Peter is proven wrong when Tony helps him get better. The ending is very adorable. I'll see if I can read the rest of the series one day. *TW for past abuse and experimentation*
what you think I've done wrong by ironxprince – I don't often read Biodad stories as you all know, but I was, again, looking for inspiration for You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I stumbled across this one. Basically Peter, as Tony's biological son, finally meets Howard. It goes as well as you think /sarcasm. *TW for physical abuse*
i, in time, will climb my mountain by ironxprince – This one is heavy. Once again, Peter is Tony's bio son, and he's suicidal. Every time Peter attempts suicide, he buys a new plant. Tony doesn't know this, so he's confused as to why there are so many plants in their house. I love this one, but of course, I try to read it when I’m not having a really bad day. *Once again, TW for suicide attempts*
how do you get that lonely (and nobody knows?) by parkrstark – Yeah... another heavy one. Peter attempts suicide but he saves himself before he reaches the ground. With that, he goes to Tony. This ends happily, don't worry. *TW for suicide attempt*
When You Can't Sleep by Emily_F6 – Pretty much Tony comforting a sleepy Peter, who has just had a nightmare about Thanos. Just Hurt/Comfort and domestic fluff. *TW for mention of death*
i get by (but it's eating me alive) by Livinei – Honestly, I think this is the BEST May's Abusive Boyfriend story I've ever read. For one, none of the characters are oblivious nor dismissive of Peter's feelings. May isn't neglectful and Ned actually tries to encourage Peter to tell someone. I also like that Peter isn't completely helpless. I don't usually see those things in other fics with this trope, sadly. And of course, Protective Tony is my weakness. *TW for emotional and physical abuse*
Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea – Post-Endgame where Tony is alive, and Peter and Tony are both trying to cope, so they rely on each other. Pure Hurt/Comfort.
A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum – Possibly one of my favorite Irondad stories EVER. Also post-Endgame with Alive Tony (though the author better explains it in the notes, it's supposed to be part of a series, but this story can be read on its own). There are a lot of references to Charlotte's Web if you're familiar with it. Basically, it's Father's Day and Peter is feeling guilty and out of place at Tony's lake house, even though everyone is readily trying to include him. It's absolutely beautiful and painful.
Hug You I Must by spiderwriting (catch_you_later) – Probably one of the first touch-starved Peter fics I've read. I like how it describes touch-starvation as this "itchy" current in your body, something that makes you anxious. Thankfully, Peter gets his hug later on. Plus there are some Star Wars references (the title probably is one, lol). *There's some minor violence here when Peter is fighting off some bad guys, but not the focus of the fic*
When You're There With No One There To Hold, I'll Be The Arms That Reach For You by Squibbles94 – Another touch-starved Peter fic. But I really like the references to Cast Away. Ironically I saw this movie in the same year the author published this fic (dare I say SHORTLY after it was posted). I also had no idea that Cast Away was entirely about isolation. Gosh, the main character's monologue at the end ALWAYS gets to me... anyway, yeah, the peak of the pandemic was awful to me, so reading fics like this one helped tons. It still does.
I am cold by N/A (orphan account) – Peter tries to visit Tony, but he gets lost in a subway tunnel on a freezing day. Eventually we learn why Peter wanted to see Tony, but overall this is mainly domestic fluff. Everything ends well.
Sorry Pedro by PinkEasterEggs – One of the first Irondad fics I read. Peter has a nightmare about Homecoming (mainly Toomes), but he avoids waking Tony for that reason. But thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocols, Peter goes to his mentor. Tony is also super soft here and it makes my heart swoon.
you are enough by diaz_evan – Another post-Endgame fic. Arguably I began reading Irondad fics only after Endgame released. Anyway, this one is short, kinda sad but it ends well. It’s Tony’s birthday and Peter feels very anxious about what to get him as a present. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to prove his love for Tony. *TW for panic attack*
Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark by downeylove – There are a lot of Father’s Day fics for these two, of course, but this one takes the cake for me. It’s simple but very endearing to me. Tony obviously doesn’t have good memories of this day, but Peter changes that for the first time. It’s really cute. Plus, Pepper is here, and I love her. I wish I could read more of her interacting with Peter. *TW for mentions of alcoholism and past child abuse*
5 Times Peter Didn’t Say He Was Struggling… And The One Time He Did by Bladam_Shevine – Again, an old fic I read years ago. I admit I haven’t re-read it in a while, but I remember enjoying it and even saving it to read offline. It’s basically what it says in the title: Peter struggles in many ways and he initially refuses help. Tony is always there to reassure him he can count on him. Bruce is here if you like him! And MJ helps Peter on one of the chapters as well. The chapters might get heavier as they go, but it ends on a hopeful note. *TW for injury, panic attack, suicide attempt (it doesn’t involve Peter), and depression*
The Good Days and the Bad by SoupGirlLovesSoup - Peter has had a bad day, now he's cuddling with Tony. It takes a while before Peter finally tells him what happened. It gets sad, but it's mostly fluff and it ends hopefully. I love re-reading it when I need the comfort. *TW for mention of suicide attempt, depression, and bullying*
Breathe Again by gwenoakley - Post-Endgame where Tony survives. He's recovering in the hospital and Peter finally reunites with him. Before that, though, we can feel the anxiety and trauma Peter feels. Definitely makes me emotional. It's the ending they deserved.
Well, for now this is it! Again, I might add more fics here. I think I also could make a list of what particular concepts I want to read more in Irondad stories, so maybe you guys could give me your own recs. I might try to resume my habit of reading Irondad fics, because they give me a lot of comfort. Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoy any of the stories I included.
(I'm aware some authors here have their accounts on Tumblr, but I didn't want to annoy anyone by tagging them, so yeah 😅)
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cmncisspnandmore · 4 months
Text
One Night Stand; Part 5
Pairings: Simon x Reader
Warnings: Hospitals
A/n: Heres another sub par part, im sorry... I feel like im losing motivation to write this story, but im gonna keep going in hopes that it kinda just hits me like a freight train. Might take a break from this and do a few oneshots.
Word Count: 3309
New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
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Your lungs ache.
A dull creeping ache that wouldn't go away. Air was forced into your lungs, and you sputter and cough. One hand reaching up to try and bat away the intrusion, to make the air that forces your lungs to expand painfully go away. 
“Easy, Love. You need to leave that on,” A gruff voice next to you soothes. The words float over you like warm water. A blam to soothe the raw nerve endings exposed over your entire body. Slowly the world starts to come into focus, the steady hiss of an oxygen machine. The quiet beeping of a heart rate monitor, and a second faster paced one that echos it. The harsh smell of disinfectant, and the scratchy sheets on your raw skin. 
“Simon…” You mumble, your voice so hoarse you barely recognize it. Talking hurts. Breathing hurts. At this point you weren't sure there was a single thing you could do that didn't hurt. 
“I’m here Love,” Simon’s voice is soft, muffled. His large warm hand taking one of yours, a small whimper passing your lips as the heat from his hand causes the raw skin of your hand to burn. Simon quickly lets go, opting to instead brush a strand of your hair back from your face. “Sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you..” he whispers.
“S’okay…” you mumble, finally finding the strength to open your eyes. His dark brown eyes meet yours, a torrent of emotion swirling behind them. His browns pulled tight behind the black and white skull mask that covers his mouth and nose. You can’t help the small smirk that plays on your lips as you see it. Finally it made sense for him to be wearing one, you just wished you weren’t the reason he was wearing it in the correct setting. 
“What's so funny?” Simon grunts, his brows furrowed even more.
“The mask…” you cough and rasp, “finally wearing it in the correct setting.” 
Simon makes a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. Your eyes flickering around the bright white room. It was set up like any other hospital room, although this one seemed nicer. There was no curtain separating the room in half so another person could be in the room. It was just you and Simon, the TV on, the soundless news flashing across the screen. 
“What happened?” You rasp, sucking in a pained breath as the oxygen machine forces more air into your lungs. 
“Your apartment building caught on fire.. I found you on the stairs..” he leans forward in his chair, resting  his forearms on his thighs. Your eyes trail down to his arms and you notice the soot and ash that still clings to the fabric of his shirt. The small holes that burnt through the thin fabric, revealing the smallest parts of his tattoo. 
“How did you find me..” you mumble, your eyes burning like someone scraped them with sandpaper. 
“I was already on my way when I saw the smoke, one of your neighbors said she hadn’t seen you. The fire truck was still a few minutes out… I’ve run into worse things than burning buildings.” 
“That’s stupid of you….” 
“It’s part of my job, love,” he laughs slightly, “although you should sue your landlord. Bloody bastard didn’t even have a working fire system.” 
Silence settles over the room, the machines offering white noise. You allow your eyes to close, the burning becoming too much to ignore. As you lay there, listening to the sounds of the machines and Simon’s breathing, the soft whooshing sound catches your attention. 
You force your sore eyes open once more and turn to look at Simon, his head resting on his palm. His elbow propped up on his knee. “Is… is that the baby’s heartbeat?” You ask softly, Simon’s brown eyes meeting yours over the fabric of his mask.
“Yeah.. they wanted to monitor them… make sure the smoke inhalation didn't hurt them at all,” he whispers, behind the mask you can tell he's smiling. The way his eyes crinkle around the edges, and the way the mask moves ever so slightly.
“I still can’t get over the fact that there's an actual baby…” you mumble, dry eyes sliding closed again. 
“Me either, Love, me either…” Simon murmurs, allowing the steady whooshing sound to fill the room again. As you laid on the bed, you started to take inventory of your injuries. Nothing felt too burnt, your skin aches like a bad sunburn, and a spot on your shoulder stung. Your lungs burned with each breath but it wasn't unmanageable. Your throat felt raw and dry, and your eyes felt like you had walked into a sandstorm with them wide open. 
A soft knock on the door draws your attention back to the room. Blinking slowly the room comes back into focus, a woman stands at the door. A white coat adoring her, as she pokes her head in. Her kind blue eyes reminded you of Soap’s, as she steps into the room. Her heels clicking on the tile. 
“Hi, I'm Dr. Rykes. How are you feeling?” She asks softly, coming to stand at the foot of the bed, grabbing the metal clipboard that hangs there. She looks it over for a few minutes, flipping the pages back and forth, her brows pulled together.
“I’m okay…” you mumble, as Simon shifts in his seat. His hand comes to rest on your hand again, this time you're prepared for the slight sting of his body heat on your hand so you don't flinch. You just subtly turn your hand over so his hand rests against the less sensitive skin of your palm. 
“You’re probably going to feel like you have a sunburn for a few days, the intense heat from the fire can make your skin sensitive. You’ll also have some discomfort breathing and swallowing. But you made it out relatively okay, you did sustain a second degree burn on your shoulder, which will need to be redressed a few times a day,” she smiles, and looks up at you.
“When can she go home?” Simon’s voice startles her, and she looks over.
“In a few hours. I just want to monitor the baby and her oxygen stats,” she sets the clipboard back on the edge of the rail. “Do you have someplace to go?” She looks at me, her blue eyes filling with sympathy.
“Oh-” 
“She’ll be staying with me,” Simon cuts you off.
You look over at him, your brows pulled together, “Simon.. I can’t ju-” 
“Shh, you’ll stay with me until we can find you a new apartment,” His tone cuts off any argument that starts to form. After a few more questions and the doctor telling you that you need to take it easy and if you have any change in your breathing you are to come back immediately, she leaves. 
“Simon.. I can't just crash at your apartment.. I can get a hotel,” you turn towards him, his hand still on yours. 
“You can, and you will,” Simon's fingers tighten around yours. The warmth from his palm sends tingles over your skin. You wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms to make all the anxiety that was bubbling under the surface of your skin disappear. 
“Bu-” 
“No,” Simon deadpans, “You will be staying with me, I’m not going to let you live in a hotel and then take the first available flat you find. You’ll stay with me until we can find you a nice flat, with plenty of room for you and the baby.” 
You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, and chew on it. You didn't want to have to rely on Simon, but you also didn't have much of a choice. You lost everything, not that there was anything of importance in the apartment. But your laptop was gone which was your main source of income. Your eyes flicker over Simon’s face, he leans back in the chair. His arms crossed across his chest as he looked at you. His brown eyes are full of determination. 
“Okay.. fine.” 
A smile creeps across his lips under his mask, his eyes shining slightly, “good girl.”
Warmth spreads through your chest at his praise, your cheeks heating as he watches you. For the next few hours you doze off, waking up every once in a while to hear Simon on the phone with someone. Eventually the doctor comes in with your discharge papers and gives you the okay to go to Simons, with instructions to follow up with your primary care in a few days. 
~~~~
Simon pushes open the door to his place, the warm yellow lights a stark contrast from the bright LED lighting in the hospital. Simon's hands rest on your waist, his fingers pressing softly into the flesh of your hips as he guides you towards his couch. You pause as you take in the state of the living room, the entire floor is covered in shopping bags from various stores. Even a few boxes filled with unbuilt furniture, the faint sound of shuffling comes from the bedroom. 
“W-what is all this?” You look over your shoulder at Simon who removes his mask, tossing it onto the counter behind him.
“I had Soap and Gaz pick up a few things for you,” Simon grunts, pulling you over to the couch and making you sit.
“You didn't have to do that…” You mumble as he bends, picking up a few of the bags and taking the clothes from them.
“You need clothes..” Simon states, as he holds the items of clothing in his hands. They look small in his large hands, as he folds them neatly placing them in piles on the arm of the couch next to you. “If you don't like something we can return it and get you something you like.”
“Oi! Ouch!” A thick Scottish accent calls from the bedroom, a moment later Soap emerges from the bedroom rubbing the side of his head. His bright blue eyes land on you and a smile breaks out on his face. “Lass!” He calls as he comes over and wraps his arms around you.
“Hi, Soap,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt.
“I was worried about you, I just put up some shelves in LT’s closet for ya,” he smiles as he pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your upper arms. He looks you over for a few moments, shaking his head as he takes a step back. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too,” you smile, “we both are.” You place your hand over your lower stomach, and Soap smiles wide.
“Well, I'll leave you two to get settled,” he turns towards Simon, “I’ll come by tomorrow to help you put together the rest of the stuff, but I think both of you need some rest after the night you had.” 
“Thank you, Johnny,” Simon nods as Soap gathers his things and heads for the door. 
As the door closes behind Soap, you look over at Simon. “You really didn't have to do all this..” You trail off, looking at all the bags again. Tears prick in your eyes as you take in the sheer quantity of stuff Simon had bought for you. There were at least a dozen bags of clothes and shoes, a few filled with bathroom products that you never even thought of using. Soaps, Shampoos, and bath oils of different scents. The last time someone did something like this for you was when your mother bought you stuff for your house when you bought it. 
Your mom.
The memory knocks the air out of your lungs. She would’ve been so excited to be a grandmother. She was always telling you how she couldn't wait to spoil her grandkids. How she wanted to make so many new traditions with them. Shower them in love like she did you and your siblings. But now she would never know what it was like to hold her first grandchild. She would never experience the joy of hearing their heartbeat. She wouldn't be able to be there for their birth, to hold your hand and coach you through it. 
She was gone, buried 6 feet under the ground. Alongside your brother and sister, the only family you ever had. Tears spill down your cheeks, leaving streams of tears that burn like fire on your sensitive skin. Your throat feels tight with emotion as you pull your hands up to your face to try and hold back the emotions bubbling over. 
You lost your family, your first house, and now your apartment in the span of a year. You had to start over again. 
The couch next to you dips, as Simon settles on it. His large arm wraps around you as he pulls you into his chest. His hand is careful of the burn on your shoulder, as he puts his other hand on the back of your hair, pressing your face gently into his chest. Your shoulders shake as the silent tears turn into heartbreaking sobs. Your fists clutching the fabric of his shirt as he holds you gently. 
“You’re okay…” He murmurs into your hair, his hands gently ghosting across your back. 
Simon holds you in his arms as you shake, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he takes in your distressed state. He expected you to be upset, you had just lost your apartment, but the way you’re breaking down in his arms makes his gut twist. This was something more than losing an apartment, more than losing a few items in a fire. 
The cries that echo around the apartment in the early morning light were filled with something deeper. They were full of pain, the type of pain you feel when your entire life is ripped away. The kind of pain he felt when he found his family murdered after being buried alive and tricked by a brainwashed Sparks. Simons hands ghost along your sensitive skin as he tries to comfort you. His lips pressed against your hair that still smells of smoke, as he murmurs soft words to you.
You look so small in his arms, your entire body shaking with emotion you are desperately trying to contain. If he really wanted to, Simon is sure he could break you in half with one squeeze. Your small frame was no match for his strength, one strong wind seemed like it could blow you over. He knew that the cries that bubbled up from your chest weren’t meant for his ears. In the short time he's known you, he's noticed how you guarded yourself despite the apparent anxiety that seems to plague you. It took a lot of courage to seek him out after finding out you were pregnant, and he admired the strength it took. But beneath the walls you put up to protect yourself there was clearly someone who had witnessed something terrible and was no longer comfortable in the world they lived in. 
As your sobs quiet into small hiccups, Simon looks at you, your eyes puffy from crying. Your cheeks flushed, lips parted as you pulled air into your aching lungs. You were still as breathtaking as you were in the alley behind the bar, even with your tear stained cheeks. Your eyes meet Simons as he looks down at you, as you look at each other Simon swears he can see the walls going back up. In a matter of moments the lost, hurt look in your eyes is replaced with the carefully constructed facade you built to fool the people around you that you were okay. 
But Simon saw through it. He could see through the fake happiness you put on for everyone else, he could see through the mirage of ‘i’m fine and i’m okay’. He could see that behind those walls you put up to protect yourself you were broken and scared.
But it didn't matter to Simon, because in the moments were breaking down in his arms, when your face was streaked with tears, and you were gasping for air. You were the most beautiful, because in those moments, you were honest. That's when he found you the most beautiful, because despite all the pain, you were still here. You were still going, and that kind of strength that no one could take away from you. 
“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, gently wiping your cheeks with your hands despite the burning sensation.
“Don't apologize,” Simon’s arms are wrapped around you, blanketing you in warmth.
“I don't usually.. Just break down like that,” you mumble, “I was just.. Its been a long time since someone has done something like this for me.” 
“You don't have to explain it to me.”
You shift slightly so you’re sitting a little further from him, his thigh pressed against yours. His body heat seeping through the fabric of his jeans into yours, as you clear your throat. Simon leans forward his elbows resting on his thighs as he rubs a hand across his face. In the dim lighting of his flat you notice just how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are darker, and his eyes lack the shine that they normally have. 
“Why.. why don't we go through this stuff after a few hours of sleep, yeah?”
Simon looks over at you, and nods. “That sounds like a good idea, we both need some sleep,” he stands, holding his hand out to you.
“Are you okay with sharing the bed for tonight?” he asks, “I just don't have the energy to convert the couch to a bed right now.”
A blush creeps up your cheeks,”oh, yeah of course.” 
Simon smiles, and leads you into his bedroom. It looks exactly as it did when the night you fell into bed with him. The bed is neatly made, the walls still bare of personalization, but there's a small stack of books on the nightstand. The laundry basket in the corner has a few new blankets piled on top of it to be washed. Simon walks to his closet and pulls out a shirt and pair of sweatpants, holding them out to you. 
“Here, you can wear these tonight,”
You take the items and smile, the scent of simons cologne clings to them as you head towards the bathroom. After you close the door you press them to your nose, inhaling his comforting scent for a moment before changing. As you peel off your shirt you take in the thick white bandage that covers your shoulder blade. The skin around it is slightly pink, the tape holding the bandage in place pulling your skin taught. You carefully slide the oversized shirt over your upper body and tuck the front of it into the waistband of the rolled up sweatpants. 
When you emerge from the bathroom Simon is already laying on the bed, the blankets pulled up to his waist, his chest bare. His tattooed forearm slung over his eyes, as he lays against the pillows. His breathing is soft and slow as he sleeps. Your eyes trail down his chest and stomach, before you force yourself to look away. You climb into the bed, it dips under your body weight and you turn onto your side. Your arm under your pillow, your injured shoulder off the mattress as you reach over and turn off the small bedside lamp. 
As you pull the blanket up over yourself, Simon rolls over in his sleep, his arm coming to wrap around your waist. He tugs you backwards to fit against his chest, his hand resting over your lower stomach. His breath tickles the back of your neck as your own heavy eyes fall closed and sleep pulls you under. 
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Next: Part 6
Taglist: @coffeeandtealol
214 notes · View notes
bless-my-demons · 10 months
Text
Redamancy: Chapter Two
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Jasper Hale x Reader
Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?
Warnings: None
Notes: So sorry it took me more than a week to post, life kind of imploded and knocked me off the schedule I had planned. This chapter is honestly just filler so it can get to the good stuff… I plan to take this story all the way to Breaking Dawn at the very least. Thank you for all the love on the previous chapter!! Enjoy!
Word Count: 1695
Series Masterlist
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• January 24th, 2005 • Forks High School •
Reader
Thankfully the first half of the day went rather uneventful, although I am disappointed I haven’t had a class with the handsome Jasper Hale yet. I did however, make friends with his adopted siblings Alice and Emmett Cullen. Both of which are gorgeous in their own right, but nowhere near as attractive as their blonde brother.
In English I sat in the unoccupied seat next to Alice Cullen, gratefully so. She seems like just the kind of friend a new girl needs in order to survive high school. I transferred to this place at such a horrible time in the year - almost at the end of my 11th grade. But after just a few minutes of knowing her, Alice caught me up on everything I missed. Turns out I’ve pretty much read everything they had covered this year and then some, fingers crossed that it continues to be a trend in most of my classes.
I learned that the boy walking with Jasper Hale this morning when I so rudely almost killed him with the door to the front office, is his adopted brother Emmett Cullen. A hulking mass of muscle, but a complete teddy bear, he kept me entertained for most of Trig. I can already tell that sitting in front of him was probably a bad move on my part for my academic career, but the guy is an absolute comedian.
Parting ways with Emmett after Math, I made my way to my locker. Digging the wrinkled combination paper out of my pocket, I was studying the numbers right when I bumped into a thin scrap of a girl with brown hair and an orange backpack. Immediately cursing myself I dropped to the ground to gather her notes before they could be stepped on by the stampede of people rushing to the cafeteria for lunch.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry! I-I just wasn’t paying attention, I was looking at my stupid locker combination and-“ I scrambled for excuses, word vomit spilling from my lips.
“Oh um, it’s okay! I’m not the most graceful person, so no worries.” An awkward pause, “Hey, you’re the new girl right?” She asked.
“Unfortunately.” I replied, looking up with a sad smile. I stuck out my hand to shake, “I’m Y/n Y/l/n, you are?”
“Bella Swan, former new girl I guess.” She responded as she lightly shook my hand. “You can sit with me during lunch if you want, maybe us gracefully-challenged should stick together.”
“Oh absolutely.” I chuckled a little, “I’ll grab my lunch from my locker and find you in there.”
“Cool, see you then.” She replied with a half-wave as she continued down the hallway to the cafeteria.
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Jasper
One of the convenient things about being a vampire is that we really don’t necessarily need to breathe. In public places packed with humans, I can just hold my breath, but the challenge comes in making it still seem like I’m breathing.
Lost in my thoughts while Emmett and Rosalie drone on about plans after school, I spot the new girl - Y/n enter the cafeteria. I sit up straighter in my seat and observe her shamelessly as she walks unknowingly in my direction, switching paths as she spots the object of Edward’s latest desire: Isabella Swan. I spare a glance to my stoic adopted brother and see him rising from his seat, probably headed in the same direction as Y/n.
Walking up to the pair, I could tell his eyes were only on Isabella. Both girls stared up at him in awe, their emotions giving away that they were surprised to see him seeking them, or rather a certain one of them, out.
“Isabella-“ Edward started but was interrupted by Y/n.
“I’ll… go find us a seat.” Bella didn’t even spare her a glance as Y/n rushed away.
“Bro, you’re staring a little hard there, something catch your eye?” Emmett said, leaning over Rosalie to nudge my ribs. I turn to him and discreetly flash a crude gesture, causing him to chuckle. I love my brother, he just thrives on getting a rise out of me any chance he gets.
Alice smacks my shoulder, “You two behave, she’s shy and I’ll be upset if your rowdiness scares her off.” My adopted sister huffs in slight frustration at our antics.
“As if we need another human in our business.” Rosalie grumbles from her spot between myself and her mate. Crossing her arms, she stares daggers at the back of Edward’s head from where he’s talking to Bella Swan.
“Oh hush, I want more friends outside of you guys, plus Y/n is relatively safe. Cheer up Rose, I’ve already seen you get along with her rather nicely!” Alice fires back at Rose.
“I haven’t even met her yet-“ Rosalie leans forward to argue.
“But you will and you’ll love her, end of story.” Alice says matter-of-factly.
Rose leans back in her seat, huffing as Emmett pats her thigh. She swipes his hand away, not happy that he finds it amusing that she’ll have to deal with another one of her brother’s fixations on a human girl. It’s always so easy to read Rosalie’s emotions, she wears them so boldly and almost prefers to torture me with their intensity sometimes, as if to get her point across even more than her biting words.
I let out a sigh at their exchange concerning Y/n, she’s been here for half a day and already a hot topic for even us.
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I’ve been in a trance pretty much since lunch, the two classes following it were uneventful allowing my thoughts to fill with day-dreams of the new girl.
Her hair, the way her oversized sweater hangs from her shoulders, her intoxicating scent…
The bell ending sixth period startles me from my reverie. This girl almost put a me-sized-dent in the door to the front office this morning and here I am obsessing over minuscule details after only seeing her twice.
I gather my notes and writing utensils before filing out of the door behind my fellow classmates. I slow my walk to the next class in hopes that I might catch a glimpse of her before the end of the day. I don’t even know her emotional signature yet like I do my adopted siblings, a handy ability I’ve managed to teach myself to find them in busy situations.
My search for Y/n comes up short, the hallways are mostly empty by the time the warning bell rings for the final instruction of the day. With a small huff I enter my seventh period class keeping my eyes on the floor as I make my way to my assigned seat.
“Glad you could make it in the nick of time, Mister Hale.” Mr. Ellis states rather loudly in an accusatory tone, raising an eyebrow as I sit and the final tardy bell rings.
An almost imperceptible gasp to my right keeps me from replying, I clamp my mouth shut and force myself not to meet the gaze I could feel boring into my back as flames begin to lick down my throat.
Wonderful, not only was I late enough to garner the attention of everyone in the room, but Y/n Y/l/n is in my history class and I can’t breathe for the next forty-four minutes.
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• January 24th, 2005 • Home •
Reader
“How was school sweetheart?” My mother yells from the kitchen as I push open our front door, I swear that woman wastes no time when digging for information.
“Jeez, let me get in the door first!” I yell back with a light-hearted chuckle, setting my backpack on the ground by the couch just inside the living room.
“Sorry, I’m just excited to see how everything went.” Her voice is much closer this time and I turn to see her walking down the connecting hallway wiping her hands on a dish towel.
I flop onto my back on the couch as she leans over the back, folding her arms under her chest with an expectant look on her face ready for my response.
“Well, I don’t think it’ll be hard to catch up in-“ but my mom interrupts me excitedly.
“No, no, no! I need the good stuff! Did you make any friends? See any cute guys?” I could burst out laughing at the look on her face and the fact that she’s more concerned about my social life than my academics on the first day of school in a new town.
“Mom!” I drag the word out in exasperation as I smush a decorative pillow to my face to hide the slight heat in my cheeks.
“There’s a cute boy! I knew it!” She practically yells in victory, “tell me everything, baby girl!”
I pull the pillow down enough to reveal my eyes to her, “I almost killed him with a door.” I mumble in a rather sad tone.
“Oh dear God.” She immediately becomes serious, rounding the couch to push my legs off, forcing me upright so she can sit next to me, “it can’t be that bad!”
“I wasn’t looking while I pushed open the door to the front office and he barely caught it in time before it hit him square in the face!” I blurt out in a rush and drop the pillow to cover my face with my hands. “Definitely not the way to start off on the right foot.”
“Oh honey,” she tries to sooth me, guiding my hands away from my face and into her hold, “look at it this way - you’ve captured his attention in a way that’ll be memorable. Sure it isn’t without embarrassment, but now you’ve made a first impression he’ll never forget!”
“Yeah and I’ll probably never hear the end of it.” I mumble as I bury my face in her shoulder, sighing deeply. I hesitate, “We do have one class together.”
The gasp my mother lets out immediately sends me into a fit of giggles, forgetting all about my early morning embarrassment.
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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 5 months
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The Dragon's Gem (Malleus x GN!Reader)
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Note: This banner will change in the future. I haven't had time to create a Halloween one yet. I meant to publish a Lilia fic today, but due to unforseen circumstances this week I was not able to complete it in time. I'm very sorry I've been slow lately - work has been something else. I hope to get the energy back sometime soon. My main goal is to finish the Beach Episode series, then move onto a mix of the Masquerade and Halloween events. Very late, I know, and I'm sorry. Please bare with me (I am very tired). Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this drabble in the meantime. Happy Halloween!!
“Is it real?”
“Hm?”
Malleus turned to face his beloved Child of Man. His pupils dilated at the mere sight of them, their glorious visage rivaling the most fantastic wonders of the world. To see that beautiful person staring down at his tail in their own wonderment made his heart swell all the more.
“Your tail,” they said, pointing to the appendage in question. “It doesn’t move like a fake one would, nor does it look like it’s made of plastic or something. So, is it real?”
“Yes, it is.” Malleus confirmed. “It is a part of my true form; I rarely reveal it, as it could be quite troublesome to others.”
“How so?”
Their genuine curiosity was adorable. Malleus could not help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Well, sitting at a desk would be a trifle. They are often closely packed together. Unlike, say, Kingscholar’s tail, it would be hard to tuck mine somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way.” Malleus’s smile then wavered as he continued. “That, and I am already greatly feared by most of the student body. I suppose I want to make myself appear less…monstrous around them.”
[Name]’s gaze softened, their lips down-turning along with their eyebrows. Malleus’s heart skipped a beat; he did not mean to make them sad! Before he could apologize, however, his Child of Man spoke again - softly, tenderly.
“I can’t say much for others, but you’re not a monster, Malleus.” Their hand came to rest upon his arm. The look in their eyes was sincere - the emotion so prominent it practically swept Malleus off his feet. “Tail or no tail, you’re just like the rest of us.” Finally, a smile graced their features once more. “Your features don’t make me love you any less.”
Love…could that be…? No - no, certainly not. The proclamation was far too casual to be a confession. That, and if they were to do such a thing, would it not be with some sort of gift in tow? It was the proper thing to do - at least that’s what Malleus had been taught. Could [Name]’s courting rituals be different in their world? Malleus would have to pry at a later date…but how to do so without being too forward?
“Malleus?” [Name] called softly, head tilted to the side. “Are you there?”
Malleus snapped out of his thoughts with a silent gasp. He quickly composed himself and smiled down at them. “Yes, I am alright - more than alright, actually. Your words have touched my very soul. Thank you for your kind words; I will try to remember them from now on.”
[Name] seemed relieved with his answer. They smiled and nodded, then retracted their hand from his arm. Malleus missed the contact immediately, but did not reach out for them. He would do so later, when the act would not seem to forward - too desperate. Oh, if only Lilia were here now; perhaps he could bestow upon Malleus some more wisdom if he were. Without him, however, Malleus would make due for the time being.
Malleus noticed [Name]’s eyes were back on his tail, a look of curiosity within them. The man’s smile widened a tad, eyes narrowed in amusement. He nudged his tail forward - he chuckled when [Name] flinched in surprise. How adorable they were.
“You are welcome to touch it, if you like.” Malleus’s next words were spoken with a mild teasing lilt. “I should warn you though: it could easily send you flying if you’re not careful.”
The Child of Man showed no hesitation in their smile or movements. Their eyes lit up with joy; their hands quickly found the scales of the tail, tracing each with their fingertips. It took all of Malleus’s being not to explode in a red flush at that moment - especially with the words that left his dear one’s lips.
“I’m not too worried; I know you won’t hurt me.”
No - Malleus could never even dream of it.
Perhaps Halloween outside of Briar Valley was just as enjoyable. Hopefully, in the near future, the prince could bring a precious gem back with him - if they would have him.
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mypoisonedvine · 2 years
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𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 10: all the love in the world. FINALE.
𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - the end is just the beginning.
𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - over 10k
𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - SMUT (18+ only, I warned y'all from the beginning), emotions, angst, fluff, more stepcesty stuff, brief pregnancy mention/discussion, reader's mom gets a first name sorry if that breaks the illusion for anyone
(thank you to everyone who read this series, it's been such an adventure and I'm glad I could take you with me <3)
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Eddie cleared his throat as he stood in front of the crowd gathered in the backyard— small, but still a crowd.  "Well, um, hi," he waved at the seated guests, most of whom waved back.  "Bet you never thought you'd see me in a suit, right?" 
Scattered, polite laughs rippled through the group.
"Um, neither did I.  And I never thought I'd see the day that my uncle got married, either, but here we are.  Wayne's never had much luck with the ladies— I guess it's proof we're related, right?" he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck briefly.  "Anyways— I knew something was different when he came home from dinner with a 'friend' —" Eddie gestured with dramatic air quotes— "and couldn't stop smiling.  I've got some pretty great friends but, they don't make me smile like that."
He glanced at you, and you offered your best reassuring smile-and-thumbs-up combo.
"He told me a couple days later that he'd met this woman,” Eddie continued, glancing down at the cards again.  “Apparently he helped her find something at the hardware store.  I was so happy for him that I resisted the urge to make an insensitive joke about if he was going to 'nail' her."
You snorted out an embarrassed laugh, and you caught your mom’s expression: clearly a little shocked, but thankfully, amused.
"And, uh, I met her a couple weeks later, and she said she liked my hair,” Eddie recalled.  “So I knew she was cool.  But most of all, I knew she was right for my uncle.  He's a pretty stoic guy— and I don't think I've ever seen him laugh in my entire life the way he can laugh in one night with Donna.  They're so right for each other it's nuts.  It hasn't been an easy road to today for either of them.  I think some people think you can only love one person in your life, but they're wrong: you can have an amazing life, and an amazing family, and an amazing daughter with someone…"
Your heart was in your throat already.
"...and you can still find happiness with someone else down the line.  And I can’t think of anyone more deserving of that than you, Donna."
Shit.  You were worried about crying during your own speech.  You hadn’t even considered that you might cry over Eddie’s.
"Donna, you're too nice for your own good.  You took me in just because you love my uncle so much— and that says everything about the kind of person you are.  You've given me a roof over my head, you've given me way more credit than I deserve, and you've given me a really cool sister.  She's actually cooler than me, which is annoying."
You laughed a little, but bit your lip when a sob almost came out.
"Wayne— I won't say too much because I'm not about to cry in front of all these people.  I think everything I really need to say, you already know.  But in case you don't… you're more of a dad to me than my father’s even been.  I’d be in the clink or in a ditch somewhere if you hadn’t been there to straighten me out.  I know I didn’t always make it easy on you… actually, I almost never made it easy on you.  You taught me almost everything I know, except the guitar— and I’m gonna need you to teach me how to find such an amazing lady, and how to make it last.  Deal?”
Wayne nodded at him, and the guests clapped politely as Eddie left his place standing in front of them to give his uncle a hug and his new aunt-slash-mother-figure a kiss on the cheek.  On shaky legs, you stood up and hoped you could find some way to follow that.
Your heart raced as you found yourself facing all those guests; last time you’d been standing in front of them all, you’d been behind your mother at the altar, so they were all looking at her.  Now you were alone and had all their attention to yourself; Eddie took his seat and shot you a thumbs up before you started.
You glanced down at your notes, holding onto them for dear life.  Thank everyone for coming & joke about beer, the first line of the first index card read.
“Well,” you began, feeling your heart rate pick up, “I’d like to begin by thanking you all for coming.  It means so much to us that you’re here, and I know you all wouldn’t miss an opportunity for free beer.”
It was a safe joke, and it got a safe laugh, and you looked at the next line for guidance: When Mom first met Wayne…
“When Mom first met Wayne,” you repeated, “she… actually didn’t tell me.”
That seemed to surprise a few people.
“I guess she was afraid that I wouldn’t approve, either of him or of her dating again at all.  Sadly, her fears weren’t… totally misplaced,” you admitted, cringing slightly.  “But only because, when it comes to any man who wants to be in my mom’s life, I have incredibly high standards.  And anyone who knew my father knows why.”
You flipped to the next card.  DAD it said at the top, with more notes of the points you wanted to cover beneath.  You froze, wondering if you had the strength to go on with what you’d written.
“Um… after my dad passed away…” you started, voice getting a bit weaker— they were all staring at you, that was something you hadn’t properly appreciated when you were preparing this speech, that they’d all be staring like this.  “It was hard, obviously.  It’s not easy for anyone to lose a partner, or a parent.  I know it was harder on my mom than she let on— she was trying to be strong for me.  And I was just trying to pretend like everything was fine.  But it wasn’t, and we were both hurting a lot.  Our family was… broken, it was missing something.  And, of course, no one could fill the space my dad left behind— but I didn’t know someone could make my mom that happy again.”
Shakily, you put the card at the back of the stack and stared at the next heading: WAYNE.  Hard working, compassionate and passionate, nicer than he looks.
“Wayne, though, is truly a special man.  He’s hard-working, compassionate and passionate, and I’ve learned that he’s not as intimidating as he looks,” you smiled.  “I wouldn’t have blamed him at all for basically ignoring me completely— he knows I’m not a kid anymore, and he knows he doesn’t exactly need my approval to be with my mom.  But, he also knows how important we are to each other, and he’s been nothing but supportive of me.  Congrats, Mom, you might’ve gotten one of the last good ones.”
Again, polite laughter for an easy joke— if perhaps a bit more feminist than your average piece of wedding-speech-humor— but when you glanced up, you caught a smirk on Eddie’s face.
You looked down at your cards again, turning to the next one.  EDDIE it said at the top… but the rest was blank.  Fuck, you’d been putting off this part to the very last second— and the last second passed about ten minutes ago.  You let out a nervous “um” as you stalled, trying to imagine what the fuck you could possibly say about Eddie.  “A-and, well,” you choked, “what could I say about Eddie… that hasn't already been said over police radios all across the county."
They laughed, but you only cared if Eddie laughed at that one, so you'd know if you'd gone too far.  You heard his laugh first and loudest, and you smiled to yourself.
"But, in all seriousness: Eddie, you're…" you trailed off again.  You looked at him, which was a huge mistake; the way he was looking at you was just overwhelming.  You glanced down at your cards again quickly.  "You're definitely one of a kind," you decided, "and I'm… really, really lucky to have you in my life."
The crowd was filled with awwws, but you refused to look up from that blank index card.  It was your only protection now— you felt terribly vulnerable in front of everyone, admitting things you hadn't even admitted to yourself.  You took a deep, but shaky, breath in and out.
"They say you can't choose your family," you continued.  "And even in this case, when we're not actually related, it's true.  But— but I'd choose you anyways."
For a second, you almost thought Eddie was tearing up, but he was looking down and it was dark out already, so you couldn’t quite tell.  You flipped to your last index card.  Close out.  
“It’s so special to be with you all here tonight,” you nodded, “celebrating Mom and Wayne— the hottest couple in Hawkins.  Cheers!”
Glasses raised and clinked, and you gave your mom and your new stepfather a hug on your way back to your own seat.
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As the night progressed, dinner turned to dancing and slightly heavier drinking— although it turns out older crowds don’t go quite as bananas for free alcohol as high school and college students do, shockingly.
“Can I get you a drink?” Eddie asked you after finding you keeping mostly to yourself in the corner.
“I’m, uh, not much of a drinker,” you informed him.
“Will you come dance with me?” he asked next.
“I’m not much of a dancer, either,” you laughed.
“Neither am I,” he assured with a laugh, extending a hand out to you.  “Just come with me.”
You gave him a look.  “What’s with the insistence?”
“I want you to have fun, is that so terrible?” he pressed.
“Since when is dancing with you ‘fun’?” you noticed.
He gave you a wide grin as one song faded out, and the next one began: Into The Groove by Madonna, the one Eddie had heard you singing along to loudly in your room however long ago.  “I know you dance to this one,” he smirked.
Groaning in defeat, but smiling a bit as the guilty pleasure song played, you took his hand and let him drag you to the middle of the yard.  Of course, for a song like this, dancing together is more just dancing near each other, but he was right— it was fun.
“I’m tired of dancing here all by myself, tonight I wanna dance with someone else!” the lyrics announced as you and Eddie bounced around uncoordinatedly; maybe you looked sort of stupid, but hey, you already had the uncomfortable fluff of a Pepto Bismol pink dress on so it wasn’t like you were ever at risk of looking elegant or anything…
Thankfully the weather was nice and the dark evening was getting even cooler, so working up some heat dancing this way actually served as a protection from the chilly breeze— Eddie had a flush on his face by the time the song was almost over, a rosy tint over his nose and cheeks and the slightest shine on his forehead from the exertion.
In a few minutes, the music changed, from fast and upbeat to something slow and gentle— you recognized it as soon as that familiar voice began to croon: “I can hear so much in your sighs, and I can see so much in your eyes…”
You smiled a little, remembering singing along to The Beach Boys when Eddie was practicing his guitar.  You thought instantly that this song would sound so much better if he were singing it instead, even if you loved the original.
Some people left the dance floor, some couples got up to dance, but everyone had stopped the energetic dancing and had begun to move much more slowly, holding each other… it was all very romantic, except that you were just standing there staring at Eddie as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
“There are words we both could say…”
He cleared his throat, and when he opened his mouth, you were so afraid he was about to make an excuse to leave.  I’m gonna get a beer, you want one? or I should check in on the happy couple or something— and, hoping to stop him, you suddenly put your hands on his shoulders.
Looking at you again, he blinked those brown eyes quickly but stepped closer to you anyways.  Your hands were still on his shoulders, but you never actually found the strength to push him away, so he put his hands on your waist and suddenly you were slow dancing.  “But don’t talk, put your head on my shoulder…”
Your breathing was shaky and you hoped he wouldn’t notice; his thumb moved slightly where it held your waist through your dress, and you felt every touch amplified by your anxiety-awakened skin.
“Come close, close your eyes and be still,” the gentle singing played from the speakers, “take my hand and let me hear your heartbeat.”
Hesitating at first, you leaned your head forward and let it rest on his chest; he tilted his head down to look at you, but you didn’t look back at him, you just couldn’t take that right now.  You really could hear his heartbeat, even without pressing your ear right up to him, even through the white button-up dress shirt; it was strong and fast, and your eyes fell shut.
“Being here with you feels so right, we could live forever tonight,” the song continued, “let's not think about tomorrow and don't talk, put your head on my shoulder—”
Swaying together, you felt Eddie hold you a little tighter, but he could never hold you tight enough.  He could never hold you long enough.  
“Thank you,” he whispered, and you blinked your eyes quickly so you could lean back and look up at him.
“For what?” you wondered.
“Being nice to me,” he replied.  “Just for tonight— you can be mean again tomorrow.”
You laughed a little, looking down at where his shiny black shoes stepped in time with your pink kitten heels.  But then you felt his hand on your waist squeeze gently again and you sighed.  Silence returned, but it wasn’t awkward, just… quiet.  Except for, you know, the music, which went on as you danced together.
“Don’t talk, put your head on my shoulder…”
When the song ended all too soon, you stepped back slightly and looked up at Eddie, wondering if he could see everything in your eyes— it felt like he could, it looked like he could with the way he was looking back at you.
There was only a second of silence before the next song came on, and the melody played on plunky synths gave it away instantly as Take My Breath Away by Berlin.  You exhaled a quick laugh and Eddie took his hands off your back.  “I hate this song,” you announced.
“Me too,” he agreed, “so cheesy.”
You nodded and crossed one arm over your chest to hold the other nervously, starting to awkwardly glance around the reception.
“Wanna get out of here?” he offered, and you looked up at him.
“Eddie, we can’t leave,” you said when you realized what he was suggesting.  
“Yeah we can,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, “just for a few minutes— they won’t even notice.”
You hesitated before nodding; “Y-yeah, sure…”
He grabbed your wrist and guided you across the yard to the fence, specifically the darkest corner of the fence where he took a cursory glance to make sure no one was looking before lacing his fingers together and holding them down for you.  “Here,” he offered, tilting his head towards the fence.  
You started to lift your foot before you put it on the ground again.  “Wait.  You’re not gonna look up my skirt, are you?”
He sighed.  “Do you really think so little of me, sweetheart?”
Sufficiently guilted, you stepped on his hands and let him give you a lift up so you could grab the top of the fence, just barely getting the leverage you needed to pull one leg over.
“Ooh, cute lace,” he praised lasciviously.
“God damn it,” you hissed, flinging yourself over and managing to land upright on both feet on the other side— it was easier to get down this way because a hill was just starting and the ground was a bit higher.  Eddie hauled himself up a moment later, jumping down onto the other side and dusting himself off afterwards.
You walked up the hill together as he promised to take you to some place he knew about— you just hoped it wasn’t too far, because these silken flats weren’t exactly built for distance.
It wasn’t far at all, actually; it was just past the treeline, over the highest point of the hill, and when Eddie guided you out to where he’d stopped, you gasped at the view.  From here, you could see nearly all of Hawkins— twinkling lights in rows and columns, cars driving down streets, the old church, the town hall—
“Oh my god,” you breathed.  “From here, it almost doesn’t look like the shittiest little town ever.”
He laughed.  “I know, right?”
“When did you find this place?” you asked.
He sat down on the grass and patted beside him for you to sit, too.  “Well,” he began as you tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the dress, “it must’ve been about a week after I moved in.  I went on a walk and sorta just stumbled on it.”
You laughed and sighed simultaneously, shaking your head.  “I’ve lived here for years, and never knew I was one hill away from the best view of the town; you’re here a week and you find this.”
“I think your problem is you have all these amazing things right in front of you,” he decided, “but you don’t know how to look for them.”
“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?” you pressed.
He shrugged.  “It’s just something I noticed.”
A long lull fell in the conversation while the two of you looked out over the lights of Hawkins.  The music from the reception seemed to follow the wind, and with a gust of breeze, you heard guitars and melodic singing: Josie’s on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over…
You laughed, just to yourself, but then started to laugh harder until you were holding your stomach and falling back into the grass.
“What?” Eddie laughed with you.  “What’s so funny?”
You tried to tell him, but you were laughing too hard to make sense.
“Come on,” he whined, and you composed yourself enough to string a sentence together.
“I hated you,” you laughed, “god, I hated you in high school!  You were so… loud!  And you didn’t care what anyone thought of you— and back then, I thought that was a bad thing, I thought it was impossible.  And now— now that nothing can ever happen with us, of course that’s when I start falling for you.”
You didn’t even care that you’d said it, you didn’t even care that he was looking at you that way or that it felt like getting stabbed in the chest.  Your laughter stopped, and you bit your lip to keep it from turning into tears.
“And I just think that’s funny,” you concluded.
“Yeah,” he smiled, looking down at the ground, “yeah, it is funny.”
You were looking out at the horizon, the lights all over Hawkins going out as stores closed and families went to bed and your sleepy little town really slept, when Eddie scooted a little closer to you.
“One question,” he requested.  “Uh… remind me why nothing can ever happen with us?”
“‘Cause my mom, and your uncle,” you sighed.  Your eyes glanced down at your legs, seeing his stretched out beside them, one ringed hand resting on his bent knee as the other kept him propped up in the grass.  “They’re married, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “they really love each other, huh?”
You nodded.
“Wayne told me when he was gonna propose to your mom,” Eddie said suddenly.  “I asked him what he was gonna say, and he said, ‘I’m just gonna tell her the truth.’”
You smiled.  “That’s why they work.  The truth is exactly what she needs.”
“What do you need?”
You looked down at the grass.  “I… I don’t know.”
"Maybe," he whispered, "I could finally tell you the truth, too."
You gave him an expectant stare, and he coughed a bit, but continued.
“Okay, well, the truth is,” Eddie began, “I like who I am when I’m with you.  I know you don’t, really, but… I do.  And when I’m not with you, I’m usually thinking about you.  ‘Usually’ as in, ‘always’.”
As he looked at you, searching your expression for some reaction, he leaned in a little closer.
“And I had a bit of a thing for you in high school— I mean, as much as I could, without ever talking to you,” he added.  “Except that one time.”
You remembered it well, normally, but suddenly you forgot everything you ever knew as he moved even closer, his face right in front of yours, his eyes giving you a look that made you shiver.
“And I love you,” he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I love you,” he kissed the other, “I love you.”
He kissed just beside your nose, and you whimpered: “Eddie—”
He held your face in both his hands, pulling back to look at you closely.  “No, don’t break my heart just yet.  Let me tell you one more time.  I love you.”
You took a shaky breath.  “I thought you hated me,” you whispered.
He looked hurt, and as a tear fell from your eye, he wiped it away with his thumb.  “No, no baby— how could you think that?”
“Because…” you trailed off.  “Because the way I love you makes me hate myself.”
With him giving you that devastated look, you figured you had to continue before you made it too much worse.
“You’re everything I wish I could be,” you explained, “you’re crazy and you’re confident and you’re free.  You don’t care what people think.  And I’m—”
“Uptight, self-conscious, and perfectionistic?” he finished, and you frowned.
“Hey…” you mumbled defensively, looking down, but he lifted your face again.
“Those are all the things I love about you,” he explained.  “I love everything about you.  I knew how you felt about me back then— it didn’t stop me from having a massive crush on you.”
“First it’s a ‘bit of a thing’, now it’s a ‘massive crush’?” you noticed with a raised eyebrow, and he laughed as his cheeks tinted.
“Can’t get anything past you, huh?” he sighed.  “Yeah, I was really into you.  I told myself that you were really this creative, passionate, wild-and-crazy sort of girl beneath the goody-two-shoes shell— that you were just waiting for someone to break you out of that prison you built for yourself.  And I imagined that it was me, that one day you’d ask me for something and we would start talking and you would end up begging me to take you away from it all.  To steal you from that asshole Gary and sweep you off your feet— and we would get in the van and leave it all behind.  Fuck Hawkins, fuck high school, fuck everybody.”
You sniffled, clutching at his tuxedo jacket’s lapel.  “Eddie…” you whispered, not sure how to say anything more than that.
“We’d find shitty jobs and a shitty apartment somewhere in the middle of a town that actually matters,” he continued, “and we’d sleep on the floor the first night because there wasn’t time to pick out a bed.  I could play guitar on a street corner and buy you flowers with whatever coins people toss in the case, and you could take enough pictures to cover the walls so we don’t need wallpaper.  And we’d find a stray cat in the rain and bring it inside and name it something metal like Sabbath or Zeppelin.  And it would all be so stupid, so massively irresponsible, but it would be our stupid irresponsible little life together.  And it would be fucking beautiful.”
Biting your lip, you still couldn’t stop yourself from crying as tears fell down your heated cheeks.  “Eddie, that’s what I wanted,” you sighed.  “I didn’t know it then, but that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Then let’s do it,” he whispered, and it was you that closed the gap— it was you that kissed him, finally, holding on tighter to his jacket as you inhaled sharply and pressed your lips onto his.
They really were soft, just like you thought they’d be; but he tasted different than you expected, maybe because he hadn’t smoked recently.  But he tasted like the way the air smells after it rains, and beer, and the leftover sweetness of wedding cake frosting.  You breathed against his skin and tasted it more as he deepened the kiss, letting yourself really melt into it, letting him hold you tighter and move his lips with yours however he wanted.
His hand gently reached up to hold the back of your head; the other stroked your cheek one more time before drifting down to your waist.
It was surreal— it was hyperreal— it was Eddie, you were kissing Eddie.  Eddie Munson, the freak, the loser, the delinquent; Eddie Munson, your technical-relative; Eddie Munson, that guy who wouldn’t sit still for the damn yearbook photo.
Somehow, thinking about it like that just made you smile a bit and kiss him harder.
What was originally gentle and comforting and sweet started to shift after a few moments, as he opened his mouth wider and gripped your waist harder and let you feel some of that hunger— god, you knew the feeling too well, and you scooted forward in the grass to press yourself to him a bit.  He hummed, low and soft, and you whimpered in return as your noises were nearly lost in the kiss.
You held on tighter to his lapel, then reached up to squeeze his shoulders, and he groaned— fuck, it was the sexiest thing you’d heard since… no, actually, it was just the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.
Gasping against his lips, you pushed him down roughly by those shoulders, pinning him to the grass as you swung your leg and straddled his lap.  “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling you down to kiss him again.
It was shameless now, all lips and tongue and teeth— when he gently bit on your lower lip you thought you might really go actually crazy— as your hands gripped at his shirt to feel his chest while his touch ran down your back, up your legs, basically anywhere he could reach.
Just when you thought this was it, you were really going to get it over with right here and now after all these years, he broke away.  “Baby, wait,” he choked out, shrinking back, and you froze as you pulled away by sitting up slightly.
“What?” you asked, terrified you were about to get your heart kicked back into its cage when you freed it for the first time in years.
“Th-this is a rental,” he blurted out, motioning slightly at the tux he had on.
After a moment’s pause, you started to laugh.  And he laughed, too.  You relaxed slightly and sat back on his thighs; he sat up and pulled you into a hug, kissing the side of your head while it was nearby.  The laughter died down, and the moment passed, and you let each other out of the embrace.  
“We should probably get back now,” he decided, and you nodded in agreement.
He took your hand and you ran together through the grass, back towards the sound of the backyard reception, back to the real world.
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The whole crowd of guests stood out front and waved as Wayne and your mom drove away — for all the effort you put into getting a nice vintage Cadillac for the send-off, it looked pretty tacky with the streamers and cans tied to it, clanking as it drove down the cul-de-sac.
When they were out of sight, you and Eddie took one more deep breath before turning to the guests behind you.  “Thank you all so much for coming!” you announced.  
And that was basically what you did for the next fifteen minutes: shake a bunch of hands, wave goodbye, thank everyone for their attendance and gifts.  When they left, the rest of your work was only beginning, and it was nearly midnight!  Eddie offered to wash dishes and take out the trash while you took down decorations and paid the guys coming to take back the rented stereo equipment.
Thankfully, with the two of you, it went pretty quickly.  There was more to do, but it could wait until the morning; it’s not like having tables and chairs set up in your backyard overnight is a crime or something.
When you were done with your tasks, you leaned up against the entryway to the kitchen, finding Eddie drying the last plate.  He looked over his shoulder at you for a second, smiling, before drying his hands and setting it all down to face you:  his jacket was long gone and his bowtie hung untied loosely around an unbuttoned collar that exposed a hint of clavicle and chest hair.  
“So, house to ourselves,” he noticed, glancing around.  “We throwin’ a rager or what?”
You smiled softly, glancing down.  
He approached you slowly and carefully, reaching up to hold your shoulders when he was close enough.  Even now you felt a little shaky, a little nervous to be this close to him even when you’d already kissed, but his gentle smile soothed you; so you did it, you stood up a bit taller and kissed him.
It wasn’t as sudden as the last one, so it wasn’t as rushed, and yet there was a creeping sense of urgency to it because you both realized it could go somewhere— maybe it didn’t have to, but with an empty house and no time limit or deadline coming up, anything could happen tonight.
As you clutched his shirt and pulled him closer with an inhale through your nose, feeling his hands take your waist and press you to him, you realized that you wanted it to go somewhere.  Not just anywhere— you knew exactly where you wanted this to go.
“Bed,” you blurted out, pulling back to look up at him.  “We— we should go to bed.”
“Okay,” he agreed, sounding a little breathless, “top or bottom?”
You laughed as he started guiding you with him already.  “Mine, for sure,” you decided.
“Aw,” he pouted as you walked through the bedroom door, “I’ve been thinking about getting you in my bed for ages— not gonna let me have my fantasy, huh?”
As you fell back onto your bottom bunk, pulling him down with you, he got the angle wrong and smacked his forehead on the wood between the mattresses; you laughed, covering your mouth when you felt guilty for it, and he scrunched up his nose as he held his head for a second.  “That was my fantasy,” you joked, and he laughed in return as he ducked a little too dramatically now to join you in the bed.
The lower bunk could feel a bit like a cave sometimes, in a cozy sort of way— but with Eddie on top of you, it was like it was all closing in on you as his weight dipped you both deeper into the mattress than ever.  That probably sounds horribly claustrophobic, but it was actually nice.  You felt safe and shockingly not-vulnerable considering the circumstances, even as he started to unzip the back of your dress while he kissed you again.
For your part, you were absolutely flying through his shirt’s buttons, sighing when it was opened and you could run your hands over his warm skin beneath.  His tattoos looked better than ever peeking out from under a tuxedo shirt, though you only got a brief glimpse of him before his lips on your neck all but forced your head to tilt back.
“Sensitive,” he noticed with a whisper, but just one word said like that made you mewl and work harder to get his shirt off.  But before you could get it all the way over his shoulders, he managed to get your dress down enough to expose your chest— and he hungrily sucked on your breasts as soon as he could.
“Oh god,” you whined, hips rocking up into nothing.  
“Here too,” he laughed as he kissed from one to the other, looking up at you for a second.  “Are you always this… responsive?”
You almost laughed imagining that Eddie really thought Gary had ever gotten this kind of reaction out of you.  You bit your lip and shook your head, and a little snarl curled his lips as he growled at you.  
“Just for me, then?” he assumed, and you nodded.  “That’s so sexy— you’re so sexy…”
“You too,” you admitted as he suckled at your chest again.  “I-I thought about this.”
“Yeah?” he breathed.  “I thought about this, too— a lot.”
You smiled proudly, before he broke away and sat up slightly to tug your dress off down your legs.  He purred again as he admired you laying there beneath him, naked spare for your panties, but he surprised you by coming back down to kiss your stomach— not exactly where you expected him to start, but okay— and beginning to move lower and lower…
Oh, fuck.  He looked up at you as he kept making his way down, fingers tucking into your panties so he could slide them down your thighs.  
Even obviously knowing what was coming, you gasped loudly when his lips latched onto your pussy.  “F-fuck!” you choked as his tongue lapped at you eagerly, suction tugging on your clit until your insides throbbed helplessly.
He held onto your legs and pushed his face harder against you, sliding his tongue deeper inside you, shutting his eyes tight while he seemed to feed on your need until you had to grab on to the support beams on either side of your head.  You felt him smile down there— cocky little shit— and go even harder.
The pleasure was heavy on your gut, like a weight keeping you pinned down, even though you longed so much to rock up into it for more.  “I— oh my god…”
He moaned against you, the most perfect sound muffled by your body, his fingers digging a little harder into your soft skin.  He was ruthless, and when you were nearly screaming, he just took it as a sign to go harder on you— he chased your pleasure fast enough that he had it captured in just a few minutes.
“I— I’m— oh god, Eddie,” you whined.  “I’m… I’m so close…”
He nodded and hummed against you but refused to slow down for even a second, just shutting his eyes tighter as he focused all his strength into keeping your hips still so he had total control over the way his mouth took you apart piece by piece.
One of your hands shot down and took a tight hold on his hair, but his groan of pain actually sounded rather pleased.  “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged, “oh my god—”
Your neck craned back and your spine arched so hard you lifted off the bed for a second, and he just opened his mouth wide and left his tongue stuck out so you could ride it shamelessly, the fireworks going off behind your eyelids as your orgasm shook your body.
You said his name a few more times, not really meaning to but needing to, and his heavy breaths fanned over your flushed skin.  
Only when you shakily sank back down into the bed, loosening your grip on his mane, did he break away and sit up to look down at you with a swallow and satisfied sigh.
“What’d you do that for?” you panted, unable to fight your own smile at the sight of his: wide and sparkling with slick that dripped down to his chin.
“‘Cause somebody oughta,” he explained, finally taking his shirt off all the way since you never actually got around to it.
“But I didn’t mean to come so fast…”
“It’s better this way— I already know I won’t be able to last long with you,” he admitted, leaning forward and capturing you in a messy kiss that tasted like— well, I bet you can guess what it tasted like.  Wedding cake, of course!
His breathing was heavy, too, as he tried to divide his mental energy between kissing you and unbuttoning his tuxedo pants; once that was done he pushed them down his thighs just enough that he could guide your hand to his aching cock, and you let out a long whimper of a breath as you wrapped your fingers around it.  God, it was literally hot, he must be burning up, and the drip of arousal running down made everything all smooth as you ran your fingers over the delicate skin.
“Put it in for me,” he instructed you under his breath, so as he lowered his hips down, you lifted your own a bit and guided him to your opening.  He gasped before he was even inside, just feeling your heat on the very tip of his cock; and as he delicately slid in, you groaned and dropped your head back.
A deep satisfaction filled you— literally— when his hips were flush with yours, full to the brim and gasping as he laid down on top of you.  
“So perfect,” he breathed as he brushed loose hair away from your face.  “I love you so much.”
You really didn’t wanna cry right now, it would be stupid, right?  It would be too weird.  You reached up and grabbed onto the back of his neck to make him kiss you again.  “I love you too,” you replied only when you were ready to say it without your voice breaking.
He started to move, careful and slow, and for some reason you just needed to say it again, mumbled into the kiss.
“I love you,” you repeated, reaching up to hold onto his back.  He nodded against you with a sigh of his own.
“I know,” he promised, “I know…”
And even if he knew, it just felt good to finally say it, and not even feel bad about it— not a drop of guilt or regret or self-consciousness.  That could wait for the morning.
Holding each other tightly, you found a steady pace— and then it was Eddie’s turn to hold onto one of the beams by your head as he buried his face in your neck.  “God,” he grunted, “so fuckin’ wet— you’re dripping for me, sweetheart…”
Whimpering, you let your nails dig into his back and your legs wrap around his hips.
“Fuck,” he moaned, kissing your neck hungrily.  The stretch inside you was pleasurable enough, but then with his lips and tongue and teeth on your pulse, a tingling feeling danced up your back and you nearly sobbed from how good it felt.  And then he let go of the beam to toy with your hard nipple, and you thought you might lose your cool again right away.  “Fuck!” he said again, louder, as he picked up his pace.  “Y-you squeezed me so tight, baby, did you feel that?  Oh my god…”
You hadn’t felt it, until he made you do it again, and you noticed that time with a wavering cry of his name.
“Promise me something,” he panted as he lifted his head to look down at our face.  “Never stop saying my name like that.”
He kissed you before you could properly agree to it, slipping his hands under your back the next time it arched so he could hug you tightly as he thrusted much, much faster.
“Fuck, m’gonna come,” he whimpered, “I’m sorry— I really wanted to last longer, but god, you’re so— you— fuck!”
“S’okay,” you insisted, “just come— oh my god, Eddie, I want you to come—”
“Baby, baby,” he whined pleadingly as his head fell onto your shoulder, “don’t say that, I don’t want it to end so soon…”
“It doesn’t matter,” you promised, “just come, please, inside me—”
“Christ,” he blurted out, taking a tight hold of your hips and tossing his head back as his movements became a blur against your numbing, sticky walls.  “I— fuck, you’re sure I don’t have to pull out?”
You nodded as you gripped his arms.  “I’m sure, please please Eddie—!”
He gasped loudly and gave you an extra sudden, sharp thrust— and you started to feel it, his cock flexing in you, his heat flooding you, both of you panting as you started to still.
A long sigh accompanied his collapsing onto you, catching his breath between kisses all along your neck and face.
“I really, really tried not to come that fast,” he laughed breathlessly, and you just hugged onto his torso tighter.
“So did I,” you promised.  “I-it’s fine, really… I’m definitely satisfied, I mean, fuck— that was… fuck.”
“Yeah…” he agreed.
And you both fell asleep in seconds.  Because it was nearly two in the morning and you’d been working on the wedding shit all day and it was actually kind of a miracle you stayed awake long enough to do that in the first place!
You woke up hours later, the only light in the room just slivers of moonlight leaking through the window; he was behind you, holding you close, breathing on the back of your neck.  You held on tighter to the arm in front of your chest, leaning your head back into his chest, not expecting him to stir and sleepily plant a kiss on your head.
“Are you awake?” you whispered so softly there was any noise, but he nodded.
“Barely,” he admitted.  “You’re so warm…”
He hugged you tighter, then kissed you again— then lifted his head to kiss under your ear, by your jaw, just over your pulse…
You didn’t even mean to grind your ass into him, it was just that what he was doing made your back arch.  “Sweetheart,” he breathed, and that made you even hotter.  “I need you again.”
It was so easy to slide right in, your body still leaking his come from before, but even without that he could get you wet in seconds; you moaned lowly and tried to arch your back deeper to angle his cock just how you thought you wanted— but he grunted and pulled your back into his chest, wanting to feel as much of you as he could.  It made the angle of his thrusts a bit less natural and yet it forced him to rub right against your spot, and you shut your sleepy eyes tighter at the feeling.  “Fuck— like that, Eddie, just like that…”
He nodded in agreement and turned his gentle pecks on your shoulder into a full-on assault of tongue on anything he could reach, getting more desperate for you by the second.
That one lasted much longer— maybe hours, you were totally unable to keep track of time, but at some point he rolled you onto your stomach and rutted on top of you slowly.  He never had to pick up his pace to send you right into your first orgasm… or the second.
“Oh my god,” you sighed, “I’ll come again, oh fuck—”
“Good,” he praised roughly right into your ear, voice gravelly from sleep, “good— keep coming.  Don’t ever stop coming for me, baby, I love feeling it… I love hearing you, sound so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart.”
You whined and bit your lip, reaching up to grab a handful of your pillow— but his hand reached over yours and interlaced his thick fingers with your shaking ones, soothing kisses trailing the side of your face as you sobbed softly.  He kept praising you and you, following instructions, kept coming until it wasn’t really a matter of counting them anymore— it was just this never-ending feeling that swallowed you whole, which would be scary if you were alone.  But he was right there with you, promising he’d never let you again.
It ended as gradually and softly as it started, and he hugged you into him for you to fall asleep again much more easily than you’d think after a wake-up like that.  When you awoke for good, the sun was high in the sky.  You couldn’t see the clock, because you were too busy looking up at his sleeping face, but you guessed it was at least nine or ten.  It was the latest you’d slept in years.
You didn’t want to wake him up, but staring at him and playing with his hair didn’t satisfy you forever, so you started to plant tiny kisses on his chest, and that stirred him from sleep with a happy groan.
“Hey,” he greeted, and you weren’t ready to see his eyes again, in the light of the day, knowing how easily you’d given in to him after trying to resist for so many reasons for so long.  You weren’t ready to wonder if this was just getting out some pent-up energy before parting for as long as you needed to be regular step-siblings. 
You just shut your eyes and laid your head on his bicep as he sat up on his side to look at you.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, and you snorted.  
“I mean, I slept great,” you smiled, “when I was sleeping.”
“Me too,” he agreed as he kissed your cheek.  “Open your eyes, baby, I wanna see you.”
“Mmm…” you groaned in protest, burying your face in the pillow when he tried to hold it. 
“C’mon,” he whined, “I miss you.”
“I’m right here!” you promised, but you gave in and let him turn your face towards him as your eyes blinked open.  You were right— you weren’t ready.  The way he was looking at you was impossible to ever move on from, and you’d never be able to do it if he asked you to.
“So, are we—?” he started.
“Don’t,” you said quickly, reaching up to lay a hand on his chest.  “Don’t ask me what we are, okay?  ‘Cause I don’t even know.”
“I… was just gonna ask if we were gonna go out for breakfast or cook ourselves,” he explained, and you felt a heat on your face in embarrassment.  “I kinda worked up an appetite there, believe it or not.”
“Oh,” you sighed, “um, I can cook something.”
You made a move to get up and he pulled you back down.  “N-no, wait,” he frowned.
“I thought you were hungry,” you noticed.
“Yeah… but I don’t want you to go,” he sighed, keeping you close.  There was a brief pause as you laughed softly, his arm wrapping around you.  “And also I wanna talk about that thing you don’t wanna talk about.”
“Ugh, Eddie,” you groaned, “can’t it wait a little longer?”
“Sure, but can I at least ask you to be my girlfriend first?” he requested.
“You know I can’t,” you sighed, “I’m already your stepsister.”
“See, here’s the thing— I was thinking about that earlier,” he explained, “and what I realized is that… I don’t actually… care, so—”
“What if I care?” you wondered.
“You can’t exactly make that argument when you’re naked in bed with me,” he noticed.
“Well, maybe it was—”
“Don’t tell me it was a mistake,” he interrupted firmly.  “You’re not much of a liar— I was there, sweetheart, we both know that was the farthest thing from a mistake.  All the time we spent not doing that was the mistake!”
You smiled, because you couldn’t deny that.  Misguided?  Sure.  Poorly timed?  Definitely.  But nothing truly wrong could feel that right.
“We don’t have to call it, you know, that,” he offered, “boyfriend and girlfriend— if you don’t want to.  As long as we’re together, it’ll be fine.”
“But people can’t know we’re together,” you insisted, “least of all Mom and Wayne.”
He nodded.  “Okay.”
“What are we gonna do when they get back?” you wondered.
“Guess I’m gonna have to go—” he reached up and knocked his fist on the slats above you— “back upstairs.”
“I’ll miss you,” you whined, cuddling harder into him.
“Okay, I’ll come down after they go to sleep,” he decided, hugging you tighter as well.
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You spent the rest of your week alone together for the honeymoon very… similarly to a honeymoon, actually.  Damn near every room in the house was defiled and you were so exhausted you ended up calling in sick to work most days.  It was well worth it, obviously; Eddie had so much energy and lost time to make up for, meanwhile you were just happy to let him shower you in affection and bring you in an hour more pleasure than you’d had in the rest of your life combined.
“God, I can’t, I really really can’t,” he insisted as your lips latched onto his neck and your hips grinded in his lap. 
“You said that last time,” you remembered.
“I know, but now I mean it!” he sighed, dropping his head onto the back of the couch.  “What are you doin’ to me, woman?  Trying to kill me?”
“Maybe,” you giggled, licking his neck and purring as you felt the muscles in it shift under your tongue.  “Isn’t this how you always wanted to die?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “but I can’t croak so soon— you’d miss me too much.”
For all his insistence that he couldn’t go again, that ten times in four days was too much, he was guiding your movements in his lap hardly ten minutes later, watching with heavy eyes as you sank down onto his cock over and over.
“Fuck, so pretty,” he breathed, biting his lip while he drank in the sight.  Thick hands ran up your thighs as you bounced on him, slipping around to grab palmfuls of your ass while you rode, and you moaned happily.
It’s easy to guess that you got a bit spoiled by that week.  Eddie had you addicted to him in moments and kept you around his finger (sometimes literally) so easily.  As such, it made you dread even more each day that you got closer and closer to the return of the newlyweds.  You couldn’t even imagine going back to normal after this— and what even was ‘normal’ before?  You never really had one.
Even if it was just a matter of keeping it a secret, you knew it wouldn’t be easy.  Maybe if it had been easier, the plan would’ve lasted a bit longer.
They returned from their trip on a Wednesday afternoon, and you all sat at the table together to talk about how much fun they had and all the fishing and hiking and relaxing they did.  It was good to see them again, but even just sitting across the table from Eddie felt odd.  Even just being apart that night while you and your mom went out for dinner alone felt odd.  Even just sleeping in separate bunks, after you chickened out on sharing from the fear that someone would burst in and see your cuddling, felt odd.
Eddie got up first, but he went to the bathroom to shower and shave before you got up so you couldn’t even try to sneak in a quick good morning kiss.  Instead, you started preparing breakfast in the kitchen, taking a break to brush your teeth when the bathroom was free and he was watching TV.  Other than offering to make him a piece of toast, you didn’t say much, mainly because you were still kind of waking up.
While you were finishing breakfast preparations you heard Eddie come into the kitchen and step up behind you, but you didn’t say anything, and neither did he for a second— not until he was standing just a bit too close.
“This is way too hard,” he whispered.
“Hm?” you wondered, shivering when his lips gently brushed against your neck in the next moment.  “E-Eddie, we can’t—”
“I know,” he agreed under his breath, “that’s what’s so hard.  Not being able to touch you, or kiss you, or…”
You were trying to resist, really, but his fingers were just barely tickling your sides through your shirt while his tongue teased your ear and it made your knees a little weak.  Okay, a lot weak; you just had to let him spin you around so he could kiss you on the mouth, hard and needy.  
You were so caught up by it that you didn’t hear the sound of movement on the other side of the wall.  You just reached up to wrap your arms together on top of his shoulders and let him deepen it, tilting your head a bit as you fought back a moan.  
He started to guide you back, and you barely questioned it, and the two of you all but fell into the dining room, nearly colliding the table; and it was a good thing you didn’t, since that would’ve put Wayne’s coffee at risk of falling off the table— he, by the way, was sitting at the table next to your mom, something neither of you had taken the time to notice, until the man gruffly cleared his throat to get your attention.
You pulled away from each other with a gasp; Eddie coughed lightly while you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, wide-eyed as you took in the way the two of them were staring at you from their seats at the table.
“Good morning,” Wayne finally offered, and Eddie nodded with a nervous laugh as you tried to decide where to start.
“S-sorry,” you decided to say first, “we were— it’s not— he was just—”
He was just what, helping me decide if I should get a new flavor of toothpaste?  He was just saying ‘good morning’ the European way?  He was just helping me butter my toast?  Oh god, that sounds even worse…
“Oh, you don’t need to act so shy about it,” your mom promised with a tilt of her head, which made you switch from shock to bewilderment.  “I actually always thought it was strange you never kissed in front of us before now!”
Eddie raised one of his eyebrows as he looked at her in confusion.  “Um… well, we never kissed at all before— before, you know, a couple days ago…”
“Wait, really?” she laughed.  “That’s a little odd— being involved all this time and waiting so long to kiss?”
You blinked, choking as you tried to reply to that.  “We— we weren’t involved!  Until now!”
Wayne tried to cover his smile with his hand, but it couldn’t hide his laugh.  Your mom looked at him and then back at you.  “What?!” she yelped.  “Wayne and I— we were so sure you two were—!”
“No!” you blurted out.  “We weren’t… why would you think that?”
“Because it was obvious,” Wayne explained flatly.  “We’re old, not stupid.”
“You were so clearly interested in each other!” she went on.  “We figured you’d started dating and just didn’t tell us because— well, you didn’t need to!  You really weren’t?”
“Of course not!” you insisted.  “Mom, we’re— you know… related!  Kind of.  That doesn’t bother you?”
“It didn’t seem to bother either of you,” she noticed.  “But, you’re both adults, you can do what you like.  You were classmates long before Wayne and I ever met.  People marry their high school sweethearts all the time.”
“O-okay, to be clear,” you stammered, “we went to high school together— but we were not sweethearts.”
Eddie gave you a look, crossing his arms as if he was amused by all this, and you shook your head.
“But— okay, well, thank you, I guess, for your… blessing,” you decided.  “And we’ll… try not to kiss in the kitchen too often.”
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That night, after saying goodnight to Mom and Wayne, Eddie followed you into your bedroom and shut the door behind you.  He sat next to you on your bed, even though you kind of expected him to climb up to his own— but you didn’t have any complaints when he pulled you into a kiss that built quickly in intensity.
You brushed your fingers through his hair (as best you could with how tangled it was) and hummed as he gently held your waist, but when you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself if it went on much longer, you had to cut it short.
“Wait,” you gasped, pushing him back gently until he stopped and looked at you with big, wide eyes.  “We can’t…”
“Why not?” he wondered.
“Because…” you trailed off, finishing your sentence by pointing in the other direction.
“Because…” he repeated, squinting his eyes as he looked where you were pointing.  “Because, the wall?  Aw, babe, I know I get a little carried away but I don’t think the walls are gonna collapse.”
“No, the other side of the wall,” you sighed.
“The bathroom?”
“The other side of that.”
“...the water heater?”
“Eddie!” you whined.  “The other side of that!” 
“The master bedroom, final answer,” he nodded.  “What— Mr. and Mrs. Munson?  What about ‘em?”
“Um, their… presence?” you clarified, not sure what he wasn’t getting.
“If they know we’re together then we don’t have to hide it,” he pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean I wanna fuck with them in the house,” you returned with a frown.
“I’m sure they’ll understand,” he smirked, “you know— if the bunk bed’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’ or something like that.”
“That’s… not a saying.”
“Okay, but, close enough,” he pouted.
“Still not having sex with you while our parents are home,” you insisted.  He didn’t seem too disappointed, though— actually, a mischievous smile grew on his face as he looked at you.
“I noticed something,” he informed you.  You raised your eyebrows and waited.  “Your mom said people marry their high school sweethearts all the time.  You said we weren’t sweethearts.”
“Yeah,” you agreed.
“But you didn’t tell her we weren’t getting married.”
Your eyes went wide and you bit your lip; he looked way too fucking proud of himself as he leaned in closer and poked you teasingly in the stomach with his fingers.  You tried to lean away or cover yourself with crossed arms but it wasn’t working, and neither were your attempts to stifle your laughter.
“You’re soooo into me,” he noticed in a playfully mocking voice.  “You wanna get maaarriiieeeddd—”
“N-no, I don’t,” you denied with an eye roll, “I— I just didn’t notice she said that.”
“You wanna have my baaaabbiiieeesss,” he continued anyways, and you nearly choked on your own throat.
“E-Ed, we’re too young for any of that right now,” you insisted.
“Okay,” he nodded, pausing for a second.  “How about now?”
You snorted, shaking your head at your own amusement with such a stupid joke.  “No, I mean, like, the future.”
“Future,” he affirmed, “as in, tomorrow?”
“No!” you groaned.  “Like, someday!”
“Sunday?”
You whined and dropped your head on Eddie’s shoulder in defeat, making him laugh and reach up to rub your back.  “You’re horrible,” you mumbled.
“Mhm,” he agreed as he softly kissed the top of your head.  “Just promise me something?”
You lifted your head to rest your chin on his shoulder so he could see your face; he reached up and held it gently, caressing the height of your cheek with his thumb.
“You tell me when it’s ‘someday’, okay?” he asked softly.  “I don’t care if it’s ten days from now or ten years.  You just say the word, and we’ll do all that boring grown up stuff we’re not old enough for yet.  Deal?”
You smiled and nodded.  “Okay.”
He hummed and kissed the tip of your nose before gently capturing your lips again, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger.  “Oh,” he said suddenly as he pulled back, “by the way— you can keep my ring you took.”
“I… thought you forgot about that,” you admitted sheepishly, and he grinned, shaking his head.
“Of course not,” he cooed, “but it’s better that you have it, since you wanna be the next Mrs. Munson so bad.”
“I don’t—!” you began to disagree, but he cut you off with another kiss.
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Someday came January 19th, 1988.  It was a quiet day, but otherwise typical for life in your little rental place up in North Hawkins by the lake, which was usually filled with Eddie's raucous practicing on the Warlock alongside the hand-me-down furniture and framed (award-winning) photos on the wall.
Nothing specific made you realize it— he was just laying back on the couch and fiddling around on his acoustic (specifically his new acoustic you'd gotten him for his most recent birthday) while you arranged and rearranged the magazine spread due in a few days— but you just… knew that it was time.
“Wanna get married?” you blurted out, and he looked at you with a tinge of shock on his face before he smiled.
“You know I do,” he grinned.  “Hop in the van, we’ll go to the courthouse—”
You interrupted him with a laugh as he was sitting up and setting his guitar aside.  “I figured we would just start, like, planning it…”
He groaned disappointedly as he flopped back onto the couch.  “You make me wait this long and then you say we have to wait more?”
“You don’t want a wedding?!” you scoffed.
“I do, but I’d rather get married now and just do the wedding whenever we have the time,” he explained.  “Doesn’t it sound fun?”
You smirked.  “Well, I figured once we were married you’d want kids right away.  And I’m not interested in a maternity-bridal gown.”
“Y’sure?  I think you’d be real cute like that,” he cooed.
"I think you should keep dreamin', pretty boy," you winked in return.  
He hopped up off the couch and crossed the room to kiss you suddenly— holding your face in his hands, keeping you close, saying so much with no words at all.  You fell into it so quickly that you were the one leaning forward for more when he pulled back.  He smirked at you proudly; "So, courthouse?"
You sighed.  "How come you always get your way with me?  Why is that?"
"'Cause you're just so wildly, stupidly, counter-intuitively in love with me," he answered confidently.
"Oh, right," you smiled.  "I almost forgot."
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Eddie cleared his throat as he stood before all your family and friends— Jonathan, the Hellfire club, your coworkers and colleagues, your mom and stepdad, and even Eddie's father who had been granted furlough so he could attend. A small gathering, but still a crowd.  You could tell he was nervous; you were, too, of course, and you looked down at your white dress and your hands holding his to try to remind yourself that this was real.
"Well, um, hi," he addressed them before he began the vows he'd written and rehearsed a thousand times for today.  "Bet you never thought you'd see me in a suit, right?" 
THE END
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kaminocasey · 6 months
Note
Oh my, your post about Tech's soft voice got me swooning! (It's true though, he has a lovely voice) So, if it's alright with you, I'd like to make a request for a fluffy Tech x Reader fic. Maybe it's one of your first times sleeping in the same bed as Tech, and in the morning, he really doesn't want to let you go. He so rarely gets this kind of affection, so he's just holding you, whispering sweet nothings trying to get you to stay. Thank you so much, you deserve all the love and praise!
Hi! I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! (Literally 9 months, I'm the worst lol, please forgive me!) I'm gonna try to get back to a point where I can open my requests again!
I got hit with massive writer's block for Tech and then After that finale, it got harder and harder to write for him lol. Hopefully this makes up for it? I got a sort of idea for a series... so Lemme know if you think it's something you guys would want??
Soft Mornings
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; smut-ish? suggestive themes
Taglist Form
You feel Tech’s warm body against yours before you open your eyes, snuggling against his chest more, your bottom brushing up against his length. 
“Good morning, darling.” He chuckles, softly, kissing your neck. 
Your previous night had been so perfect. Better than anything you could’ve ever imagined. Parts of it start to flood your memory, making your face go warm. 
“Good morning.” You bring his hand to your lips and he snuggles his nose into the crook of your neck. “How did you sleep?” 
You’d been slightly afraid that Tech wouldn’t be able to sleep well since he’s never slept next to another person before and you know how much he enjoys his space. But when you’d offered to go back to your bunk, he’d only pulled you close to him, bringing the covers up over the both of you and asked you to stay.
“I think I slept better than I’ve ever slept before.” He admits and then starts to smile. “I’m afraid I will not be able to sleep alone now.”  
“Oh no. How awful. Guess I better take up permanent residence here.” You laugh. 
He chuckles again and you roll over to face him. 
“Hi.” You smile up at him.
“Hello.” He smiles back, his voice still soft and raspy in a sleepy way, making you melt like putty. 
His hair is sticking up in different directions and you imagine yours is too, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kissing him softly, you run your hands up to cup his face, which is starting to feel slightly stubbly from not having shaved in a few days. You take note of how good the five o’clock shadow looks on him.
“I’ve got work soon.” You sigh against his lips.
His sigh matches yours. “Don’t go.” 
You laugh, softly. “I have to.” He wraps his arms around your lower back, pulling you up against him. “I’m sure I could persuade you to stay.” 
“Try.” You whisper. 
He pushes you onto your back and hovers above you, smiling so softly down at you. “All I’ve wanted since meeting you is to wake up next to you. It’s a new feeling for me… But getting to wake up next to you, and seeing how absolutely endearing you are with ‘bedhead’ and your sleepy voice, makes me want nothing more than to do this every morning.”
You look up at him, wide eyed at his confession. Tech’s not been one for being forthright with his emotions, so this is new. And it melts your heart. You’d love to hear him tell you these sweet nothings every day. 
As if he can read your thoughts, he kisses you again. “I know I don’t speak about how I feel a lot… but I feel safe here… with you.” 
Your chest tightens and you pull him toward you, crushing your lips to his. He groans softly, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, anchoring you to him and the bed.
“Let me convince you to stay.” He murmurs, kissing your neck.
“I don’t need any more convincing.” You smile with a hum. “I’ll call in and we can stay in bed all day.” 
“Sounds lovely.” He nuzzles his nose against your jaw as he presses his growing length up against your already eager warmth, making you gasp softly.
“Maybe you could use… other incentives to make me stay.” You tease him and he chuckles, darkly, catching on immediately.
“Say no more, darling.” He nods as he shows you just how much he loves waking up next to you. 
You really could get used to this… perhaps one day, he’d leave the war and battles behind to be safe here in this bed with you… where nothing bad could happen to him, and you wouldn’t have to worry so much every time he leaves. 
Perhaps, he’ll choose these soft mornings with you, too.
TAGS:
EVERYTHING @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley
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xdacted · 6 months
Text
The wind chimes we hear
Paring: Charles Leclerc x Sister! Reader
Warnings: fluff, family fluff, family angst, family feels
Word Count: 2,760
Status: Completed (part of a mini-series)
* A Request*
There was the green field, littered with dandelions and daisies swaying in the wind. Sunlight drenched the stems, rolling over the grass, kissing my skin. The twinkle of our grandmother’s windchimes, clinking together. The scent of the sea, the taste of salt dancing high above the air. 
I could hear my brothers laughing, pushing each other, shoving the other into the dirt. The sound of our mother scolding them, my father’s bellowing laughter. They called my name, pulling at my hands. They didn’t understand why I was so small, why I couldn't run like them. 
I didn’t get it either. 
They call my name again. 
It sounds fainter. 
The sun goes cold, and the grass stops dancing. My father’s face distorts, fading into nothingness. 
“Ma’am?”
There’s a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me. My eyes blink open. 
There’s a woman smiling down at me, her red lips showing a dazzling set of pearly white teeth, “We’ll be landing soon.”
I nod, trying to suppress the yawn that grows in my chest. My headphones have slipped to my temple, and with a groan, I push them back. The cabin light is far too bright, I pull my hood further over my head. 
What a strange dream. 
We spent the entire summer with my grandmother. We ran around her spacious backyard, and we loved it. Sitting around her stained glass table, staring up at the colors as they shimmered in the light of morning. We were kids then. 
The city is nothing more than a spec outside the window. Surrounded by the glimmering sea, clouds making it seem impossibly far. Home. 
__________
Catching a car was more difficult than I expected. Normally, my mother was more than happy to pick me up - or she would’ve sent one of my brothers - but we were all coming in at different times. I didn’t want to burden her. 
Summer break was a glorious time. I always managed to snag a few days free of practice, I would always dread going back, but I would never sacrifice it for anything. My brothers were always happy to be home, hiding out at our mother’s house before telling anyone they were home. 
Our lives pulled us in different directions, but we always found our way home when Monaco came calling. I looked out onto the streets, cars buzzing past, and people bustling on the streets. This country bore us, we loved it. We would always come back. 
The car ride is short and before I know it, I’m standing at the steps of our home. The door swings open before I can knock, my brothers staring back down at me, pulling me into the waiting house. 
They wrap me in a hug, their arms tight around me. I breathe them in. The house around us seems to breathe with me. With all four of us between its walls, I feel the anxiety in my stomach uncoil. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them. Emotion is tight in my throat but I force it down. 
I would never hear the end of it if I cried. 
“Little Miss Champion,” Lorenzo brings a hand down on my hair, ruffling it. 
I whine, pushing his hand away, “Lo! My hair…”
He chuckles, “I’m so sorry.”
He doesn’t sound sorry at all. I smile. This easy batter has been missing, we’ve been missing. Being here with them feels like coming back to myself. I can hear the windchimes again. 
“Good flight?” I nod, sliding my backpack from my shoulders, but Arthur is already taking it from me.
I don’t bother protesting, following them into the house. Charles pulls my suitcase behind him, parking it at the threshold of the kitchen. They let me walk in first, and when I do, my mother is standing there. 
I nearly crushed her in a hug, burying my face into her blonde hair. She presses a kiss to the side of my face, brushing my hair back, “What is this love, hm?”
I can’t help the laughter that leaves me. She smells like honey and lavender, her hair soft against my temples. I don’t ever want to break away. Her hands soothe down my back, tucking themselves under my hoodie. 
“I missed you,” I whisper. 
It’s faint enough to die in the air, but she lets out a little giggle. 
“I missed you too, my beautiful girl.”
I curl tighter around her. 
Being away hurts. It hurt to know that she was here alone, in this empty house. It hurt to hear the excitement in her voice when I called. It hurt to have her hold me knowing I’ll leave in a few days. 
“Mum -”
“I love you so much,” She beats me to it. She pulls away from me, her warm smile making my heart full. 
“That’s not fair,” I nearly whine.
She just shrugs, but the smile never leaves her.
“Alright! Enough already,” Arthur claps his hands on my back, “We’re hungry!”
“Yeah,” Charles says, sliding his arm around Mum’s shoulders, “You took forever.”
I roll my eyes and pinch at Arthur’s sides, “Shut your face.”
__________
Dinner is an easy affair. 
I don’t bother asking where Carla, Charlotte, or Alex are. The first day is always just for us. 
“So what regiment have they got you on now?”
Lorenzo gestures to my plate, it’s mostly green. I promised my trainer I’d take it easy, but with my mother’s cooking, a promise meant nothing. I shrug. 
“Nothing,” He snorts, “I mean it!”
“So why no pasta?” Arthur stuffs another forkful into his mouth, our mother scolding him under her breath. 
“Planes always mess with my appetite,” I reach for the pitcher of water, “Tomorrow I’ll eat more.”
The conversation is plain, but it’s wonderful. To just be here with them, talking about nothing. We laugh and joke, the house seems to burn with energy. Soon, the food is gone and we race from the table. 
Mum captures Lorenzo as he tries to sneak past her, she pulls him to do the dishes with her. 
“What a loser,” Arthur mutters, plopping down on the couch. He goes to reach for the remote, but I snatch it first. 
“Hey!”
I wave him away, “You’ve been here all day. I just got here.”
“Exactly,” He doesn’t make another move to it, leaning his face into the palm of his hand, elbow propped on the arm of the couch, “It’s only respectable.”
“I know you’re not talking about ‘respectable’.”
I lose myself in surfing the channels, clicking through news broadcasts and show reruns. There’s never anything good at this time, but I always look anyway. A cartoon’s theme song rings through the house and I let out a small laugh. 
As children, we would all pile into the kitchen and watch it before school. It would run right when our mother would coral us to the door, tugging on Arthur because he always wanted to see it end. 
I’m lost in my thoughts when Charles’ voice rings out. 
“Who’s that?”
Charles and Arthur leaned over my phone, tapping at the screen. I hadn’t even noticed Arthur moving. It lights up to the picture of me and my boyfriend. My arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss. 
Shit. 
“No one -”
Before I can snatch it back, they’re pulling it away from me. There’s a look on Aruthur's face, eyebrows pulled into a tight furrow. I can feel the anxiety coil in my stomach. I wasn’t ashamed, I just wasn’t ready. 
“No one?” Charles frowns at me, eyes darting to the phone in his hand, “This? This is no one?”
My face grew hot. Why did it always have to be this way?
Arthur scratched the side of his face, “Really? Who is this guy?”
“No one,” I sigh. 
I reach for my phone again, but Charles jumps back. He tucks the phone into his pocket, holding a hand up to my chest. I let out a groan. 
“Charles, please -”
“If he is ‘no one’,” I can already hear the question, I roll my eyes, “Why not tell us who he is?”
“Because I am a grown woman with my own business,” I thank the heavens I decided to leave him in France, “Now, give me my phone.”
“Tell us who he is.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I almost screamed. My face is red, and I can feel the tears prick in my eyes. It was always like this. 
I can see Lorenzo enter the room out of the corner of my eye. He takes in my state - arms crossed over my chest, cheeks red, pinched expression - and lets out a bark of laughter. 
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, holding his hands out in defense. 
“Hey! I haven’t done anything.”
The apology is on my lips, but Charles and Arthur beat me to it. 
“She has some secret boyfriend,” They flash my phone at him. I am mortified. 
“A secret boyfriend?” He steps closer to the phone, and he moves closer to the screen, eyes squinting as he inspects my boyfriend's face. He makes a look of disgust. 
“Really?”
This wasn’t fair. They were judging someone they hadn't even met. I have never, ever, judged one of their girlfriends. The many that passed by, I have never once held any hatred towards them. But they hated my boyfriend simply because he loved me. 
It was so stupid. 
“Why this guy?” Lorenzo turns to me, Charles and Arthur voicing their agreement, “Really? You shouldn’t be -”
“I am not a baby!” I can feel the tears, my voice going thick with emotion, “I am a grown woman. I can live my own life. I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not five years old anymore!”
They stare at me, mouths agape. As soon as my words leave me I want to take them back. I can see the regret crawl across Charles’ face, but I can’t take it. I snatch my phone from his hand and run out of the room. 
I hear them call my name, and even feel as Lorenzo tries to grab my arm, but I push him away. 
I stomp upstairs, slamming the door behind me. 
__________
When I stop, my lungs burn. I’m wheezing out into the air. My heart is thundering within my chest. I can feel the embarrassment pool in my gut. 
It didn’t matter how many trophies or world titles I won. It would never matter. They only saw me as their little sister. I had been in their shadows for years, watching as they stepped into the light. The world loved them, the world adored them. 
Couldn’t I have this one thing?
Couldn’t I have someone to love me?
I pick at the hem of my shirt. I’m being selfish. They didn’t mean anything by it, it was just careless teasing. But to me - I dared to look at my phone, my boyfriend's beautiful smile staring back at me - it wasn’t careless. I bite on my lip, pulling at the skin. 
My room is just as it always was. The walls are littered with pictures, posters lining the sides of my bed. I filled it to the brim, you could hardly see the wallpaper beneath. On my dresser, there are the trinkets I left behind. Seashells and paddock passes. I can feel the emotion welling in my throat again. 
This was more than just the teasing. 
I push my back into the door. On the other side, I can hear my brother’s voice. They’re arguing, scolding one another, blaming the other for my outburst. But it wasn’t their fault. 
So much was changing, we were growing and it frightened me. I side down the frame, pulling my knees into my chest. The tears come before I can stop them. I really was a baby. 
I moved out two years ago. I wasn't far, but I wasn’t home. Charles moved out ages ago, and Lorenzo before him. Our leaving wasn’t new, but that didn’t change how strange it was. At first, it felt wrong. I threw myself into training, hours with my coach, and hours distracting myself. There was a reason I only came home a few times a year. It was always hard to leave. 
Summer break was always my only exception. I stayed and it hurt.
I always wondered if they felt like this, but I never had the nerve to ask. I was afraid they’d laugh in my face, afraid they would call me a kid. Being away seemed so easy for them, racing across the world. Different cities, different countries, different time zones.  
It didn’t look difficult for them at all. 
Meanwhile, I cried at my first international competition. It was only for three days, but I called home every night. 
I rest my chin on my knees, blowing out a sigh. 
My tears have subsided into sniffles. The ridiculousness makes my face burn again. I can almost laugh, but before I can push myself off the floor I hear their footsteps come up the stairs. They try to speak in hushed whispers, but I can hear everything anyway. 
“Move, this is your fault!”
“Mine?! You made her upset!”
“Shut up, both of you!”
I almost laugh, covering my mouth just in time to stifle it. I can hear them stop at my door. There’s a long moment of silence, I can feel their hesitation. I look up at the doorknob, the dying sunlight spilling in through my blinds. 
There’s a tentative knock. I say nothing. 
Charles calls my name. 
I say nothing. 
It’s evil, but it makes me crack a smile. 
Another knock rings through the room, louder this time, “Stop being mad at us…”
I can hear Charles and Lorenzo smack Arthur on the head. 
“OW!”
“You’re so stupid.”
Lorenzo tries this time, but his voice is soft, “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to make you upset, will you open the door?”
I rise to my feet but just stare at the door. 
“Please?”
With a roll of my eyes, I turn it open. It reveals the apologetic look on their faces. 
“We’re sorry,” They say, nearly in unison. I can’t help but laugh. 
When we were kids and got into fights our father made us apologize together, we’d have to redo it if we weren’t. 
“I’m sorry,” Arthur starts, looking up at me, fiddling with his hands, “We shouldn’t have looked at your phone.”
To his right, Charles nods, “It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
I look at Lorenzo. 
“What?” He holds his hands up, “I didn’t really do anything wrong -”
Charles jabs him in the ribs. 
“Ah! I’m - I’m sorry,” He muttered, brown hair falling into his eyes as he doubled over, “I’m sorry.”
“I meant it,” My arms are tight, gripping onto my sweater, “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“We know,” Lorenzo pulled himself upright, “We know. It’s just…you’re our baby sister.”
“No one is ever going to be good enough for you.”
“Ok,” I mutter, “But he doesn't have to be good enough in your eyes. He’s my boyfriend. He’s good enough for me.”
They seem to think. The silence that passes over us is heavy, I can almost see the wheels turning. 
Arthur is the first to speak, “Does he make you happy?”
I can’t help the shock that makes its way onto my face, “Yeah…he does.”
He shrugs, “Then that’s all I care about.”
I crack a smile, reaching over to grab his hand. He interlaces our fingers, giving me a quick squeeze. I can feel the unsaid, ‘I love you.’
Charles doesn’t say anything, he just moves forward, wrapping his arms around me, “I want you to be happy. That’s it.”
I let go of Arthur to hold his middle, “I know. I am.”
He lets me go with a sigh, pulling away with a smile. It’s bright and the one thing that hasn’t changed since our childhood. I hear the windchimes again. 
Twinkling in the daylight.
Lorenzo hooks his arm around my neck with a sigh, “If it’s what you want, I guess it’s alright.”
I smack his arm. 
He smiles too, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “I mean it.”
“I know.” 
The anxiety clears. There’s still something unsaid between us, but it isn’t enough to ruin this moment. Our mother calls us from down the stairs. 
“Have you made up yet?”
We dissolve into laughter. 
“Yes, mum.”
_________________
A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3
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seraphinitegames · 7 months
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Not a question but I just want to say that I absolutely love this game series. I was never one for romance games but when i discovered all the stuff on hosted games and what not i started to get interested. I only really focused on the sex scenes though, the actual romance was nice but I prefered reading people getting it down. But recently reading the Wayhaven books changed that.
I played through Morgan's path first and having now finished all the current books, I have to say that I love it so much. The sex scenes were nice but I think more about the little side quests and events from going around town and talking with her a lot more interesting. Just seeing the PC's and Morgan's relationship turn from a purely physical one to realising each one has feelings for the other honestly is so heatwarming to see. It's a bit embarrassing to say this but I have gotten so attached to her character that it feels like I'm cheating if I go after any other RO in any other game. Which is a bit of a shame because I really want to try out Nat's path as well.
I think some of the reason why I adore the romance in these games is because other games don't really focus on the small parts such as body language to show that these two are intersted in each other. And a lot of the romantic events don't feel 'romantic' in other games- they just feel purely sexual. I don't really feel that in Wayhaven. Yes Morgan is clearly very thirsty and always wanting sex, but thats mainly in the first two games. In the 3rd I love how the game focuses more on their relationship as a whole, as the detective makes Morgan open up about her feelings with the many events we can have one on one with her.
Anyway that's enough from me, sorry for the long read. I know there is a long time to go until this happens, but I am already dreading the day this whole series ends, as I am already missing the whole of Unit Bravo's antics :( .
Aah, what an incredible message!
And yay for getting into the romance of the series! That's why I'm writing it, after all ;D
The physical scenes are indeed fun, but real connection can extend so much deeper than that. Sometimes the emotional stuff comes before and sometimes it comes later and other times it happens at the same time! That's why it's fun writing all the love interests as they all have different speeds at which can progress.
But yeah, M got the feels a looong time ago, but now they're actually starting to realise it...and that's gonna be real fun to write, hehe! :D
Thank you so much for this amazing message! You have no idea how much it made me smile <3
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charles-eclair16 · 8 months
Text
Reviving Reputations
Chapter {i} Negotiations
Pairing: charles leclerc x actress!reader
Previous | next | series masterlist
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" trouble never looked so good damn fine"
" we really can't afford any more scandals Charles! The tape was bad enough and now this!"
Charles cringed at the mention of tape, he couldn't help it. He nodded his head cheeks getting red from embarrassment. It wasn't nice to be scolded like this in front of the whole team but he deserved it. After all the shit the team went through to keep his name clear from the news surrounding him. He tried he really did- he kept a low profile not wanting anymore attention than he was already given. He stayed away from all his social media as Silvia, his PR manager suggested but nothing seemed to work. Everywhere he went he could always hear whispers and people judging him, his name being taken as if it was filth. He knew he needed to make it right so when Silvia called to inform him about a new plan the team had come up with he was ready to do anything.
" I understand and I'm really sorry about all of this guys. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make it right" Charles looked at everyone, determination clear in his voice. Silvia gave him a firm nod before standing up in the front and commanding everyone's attention.
"so we- I mean the team thinks that the best way to approach this is to make Charles image clean. If we manage to present him as a good focused man who is leaving this behind and moving forward in his life then it will manage to sway the fans in a little positive way and then we will see how to take it forward" Charles nodded. That seemed like a good plan.
"But how do we do that? We can't just say that he's moving on and is starting fresh! That would bring more backlash than positive feedback!" Ian, a member of the PR team asked what Charles wanted to voice out.
"About that we think Charles needs a nice loving relationship to clear it all out. It would give the fans something new to talk about and being a perfect boyfriend will help his image at this point. Like for example look at Gasly! He always looked like a player but now he's loved as a settled boyfriend!" Charles wanted to argue that it wasn't true that his friend wasn't dating for a public image. He knew how much Pierre liked Kika. Before he could say something he was cut off by Fred.
"Is it really the only option? Who would he even date unless he's seeing someone?" Charles shook his head when Fred looked at him questionably. Charles couldn't say that he didn't want to do this, that he hated the idea of faking his emotions and pretending to be in love with a girl he didn't even know. Fred sighed. And Charles dropped his head not being able to see the look of disappointment on Fred's face.
" We tried to look for other options but this will be the most possible way to achieve what we want in terms of Charles image" several of the team members nodded their head in agreement.
"I'll do it" Charles sighed not wanting the team to be in more trouble than they already were. He was sure they had worked over time these past weeks to keep his name out of trouble. He could do this for the team.
"Very nice! Now that it's settled we can end the meeting here! Charles stays back and others can leave!" chairs scrapped back as people got up and left the meeting room.
"here's a file of your girlfriend Charlie! I'm sure you'll get along fine. She's a lovely girl" he caught the thin file Silvia slid towards him. He looked at her shocked- they even had the girl ready? As if seeing his expression Silvia laughed.
" She's an upcoming actress under our branch in New York. She's managed by my friend and when she asked me a favour I knew that it was our chance to make it right, you know mutual benefit!" Silvia chuckled squeezing his arms.
"Oh okay" Charles smiled and shook his head at Silvia. His hands itched to see the file. So his supposed girlfriend is from New York and an actress, he wondered if he had ever seen her in any of the series he watched during the off season. Silvia left the room with a see you later thrown over her shoulder. Charles took a deep breath trying to calm his beating heart. He didn't know why he felt nervous opening the file. His heart beating as if he was sitting in his car looking at the red lights to take off. He slowly opened the file and let out a breath.
She was beautiful. Her beauty captured his attention and refused to let go of it. He knew he was in trouble but trouble never looked so god damn fine.
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"Damn. His smile"
You fidget with your fingers, eyes constantly moving towards the glass door of the small dimly lit coffee shop. It was your fault for coming half an hour before the decided meeting time, heart fluttering from the nervousness of this whole situation.
Lia, your manager had called you yesterday to inform you that the contract was finalized and both parties had to meet to go over it to see if anyone had any problems. The whole idea was of Lia who proposed it during a meeting when the production house of the new movie you were signed to demanded some publicity around your name. She felt it was the most safest and convenient way to put you in the eye of the public without it being a scandal in the negative way and when everyone agreed you had no choice but to accept it. As you say in the coffee shop you wondered if it was really the right choice.
The sound of the doors opening caused you to look up. A smile making its way in your face as you saw Lia frantically waving her hands as she explained something to the red haired women beside her. Lia met your gaze and beelined towards you, the woman following her. You hugged Lia and introduced yourself to Silvia, the pr manager of your would be fake boyfriend.
"sorry about Charles! He was held up because of shooting. He'll be here soon!" Silvia apologized as you all ordered drinks. Lia nodded and you watched as they took out their notebooks and laptop.
" We have already drafted a contract. But there are some things which we needed to go through with both of you guys" Silvia said smiling before the ringing of her phone cut off whatever Lia was going to say. Your heart raced as you heard Silvia confirm your location and to hurry inside.
Your eyes snapped to the door for the second time today. You watched as he opened the doors, his white shirt rolled up to his arms,hands running through his hair as he looked around, you looked down when his head turned towards the way you were sitting, cheeks heating up at the thought of getting caught.
You would be lying if you said you were not familiar with him, when Lia gave you the file. You had known the second you opened the file and had seen his picture staring back at you. Charles Leclerc was a beautiful man and a talented driver. You weren't that much of a fan of Formula 1 having been introduced to the sport by your ex-boyfriend who would belittle you if you expressed a little interest saying it wasn't something you would understand. But it was safe to say that you understood and liked to watch it sometimes.
"Charlie! Come!" Silvia waved her hand and he smiled before making his way. She introduced Lia to him.
"Now! Meet Y/N your girlfriend!" Silvia chuckled as she gestured to you. Lia snorted. Well at least she was having fun. You looked up at him, with him being a few inches taller than you. He laughed as he met your gaze. A chuckle left your lips at the bizarre situation.
" well nice to meet you y/n! I'm Charles" he grinned moving to shake your outstretched hand. You shook your head and before you knew it you all were seated around the table as Silvia and Lia briefed about the contract.
" so the duration is one year from next month as you both know...the whole dating scene would be starting after the Australian gp, before that we need you guys to interact a little through social media maybe a like here and there" Lia pointed to the conditions written conditions as she spoke.
"We need you guys to be a little teasing and not in the face of the public because of Charles's situation at the moment. As we agreed y/n would attend few races and Charles would attend few red carpets as your date we would also like to add little dates and appearance in the public without it being an event...so it could look real apart from this we should probably discuss the pda aspect of the relationship" you nodded. You were warned about it beforehand and Lia was right you cannot fake a relationship and make it believable without PDA.
" we don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with" charles spoke up looking at you, his smile reassuring. You nodded and soon the briefing of the contract was finalized and the talk moved towards more basic things with Silvia talking about the restaurant she had visited during the Saudi Arabia GP.
" I uh saw your show the maze! It was very interesting!" You looked up at Charles shocked. It was one of your favourite shows that you've done. It was a murder mystery and your character was a total badass.
"oh! Thank you! I really liked the plot of that show! Sorry but uh I didn't watch the last race though!" You added grimacing. You should have watched it to atleast make conversations.
"no problem! Not a fan?" He asked, a teasing smile on his lips. You shrugged.
"No offence taken! We should probably get to know each other if we are going to make it believable though" he smirked raising his eyebrows.
" yeah sure. Lia did suggest to befriend you if I had to make it easy for the both of us!" You teased.
" we could be friends no problem! But I don't know if it will be easy for you because of my uh situation" his voice turned serious as he spoke. You looked at him as he looked at his drink moving his straw around. You knew of his condition and how the fans were treating him having been informed by Lia.
" I'm sure it would be okay" you assured him.
"Oh! We need to go! We'll be late for the flight! Come on Charles!" Silvia's voice caused both of you to look at her. Charles nodded before he slid his phone towards you, keypad visible on the screen.
"so we could get to know each other" he nudged the phone closer towards you. You smiled before putting your number and calling yours so you could have his number.
"Until next time." Silvia hugged you before she walked ahead with Lia, still talking about small details of the contract. You walked beside Charles after them.
You looked at Charles when you all reached the parking lot. Silvia already sitting inside the car after hugging Lia goodbye. Lia nodded at Charles before telling you that she would be waiting in the car.
"so uh see you later?" It came out as a question rather than a greeting not knowing what to say. He chuckled causing you to look at him.
"Talk to you later!" He grinned winking at you. A grin visible on his face you couldn't help but laugh.
"You should go! Silvia is looking at you from the window" you said as he made no move towards the car. Silvia eyes visible from the small gap where she had rolled down the window to look at the both of you. He nodded before walking towards the car. He looked back at you before getting inside the car, sending a smile your way so big that his eyes crinkled at the corners.
The only thought in your mind. Damn his smile.
_________________•••______________
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Text
You Look Good: Chapter 9
Summary: Last week of June 2027
Rating: M
Word Count: 7k
Warnings: M/E rating (no minors, please!) for language and for the fact that they do sex in this chapter. P-in-V sex. This is sex, folks. They are doing sex. If you don't want to read about them doing sex, I invite you to turn back now.
A/N: I know I promised a quick return on this chapter after the angst of the last, but this one took a little longer than expected. I promise there's much less emotional upheaval, though!
Hope you like!
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You bite the edge of your thumbnail and narrow your eyes, studying your wardrobe critically. Why do you have this much black? When was the last time you bought something in a primary color? In your ear, you’re vaguely aware that Joe is still talking. Unfortunately, he’s asked you a question and you have to admit you weren’t listening. “Sorry,” you say, flipping through another series of collared button-downs in three different shades of gray. “Say that again?”
He laughs. “I said I can tell him not to come,” he repeats. And you’re pretty sure you heard that part. “If you’d rather instead.”
“No, no,” you shake your head. “Don’t do that.”
“You sure?”
“I am so sure,” you promise emphatically. “But if you let him come into town, be your date to whatever fancy award show you’re going to, and leave before I get to see him? Then I will be mad.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says warmly. “He said almost the same thing. Do you have Thursday night free?”
“As of right now,” you say without having to look at your calendar. Until Giuliana comes home, or tech week begins, your nights are still your own. “Bring him to Hobb’s,” you suggest. “It’s as close as we can get to the Queen’s Arms here, and no one will bother or recognize you.” You pause with a frown. “Wait, what is this thing you’re going to?”
“CFDA Awards,” he replies, not sounding annoyed that he’s repeating himself. “There’s a thing for Dior I’m meant to present.”
“CFDA,” you echo. “The fashion awards?”
“The very same.”
“Oh, then dear God, you don’t want me to come with you,” you assure him, shaking your head looking at your closet full of thrift shop and Target clothes. “Dior would cancel your contract.”
Joe laughs. “I’d make sure you had something to wear, love.”
“Mmm, well,” you roll a shoulder. “Maybe next time. We both know Wes looks better in formalwear than I do.”
He snorts. “Not agreeing with that.”
“You don’t have to,” you say with a grin. “It’s just a fact.”
“Alright,” he says sounding reluctant. “I see someone looking for me.”
“Go earn your money,” you say, quoting something his dad used to say before showtime.
“Tryin’,” he replies easily. “You’re making it difficult.”
You snort. “Don’t you blame me if you can’t focus. In the time that we’ve been back together, my work has not suffered even a little bit.”
“Yeah, well,” Joe coughs. “That’s because you’ve always been more professional than I am.” You giggle while he continues. “And this next week’s schedule is all kinds of fucked. I don’t think I’m going to get to see you again until…”
“Monday?” you guess, trying to remember what he’d told you in comparison to your own obligations.
“Maybe Monday,” he agrees and lets out a quiet hum. “Don’t like that.”
You feel yourself smile as you shake your head. “We’ll survive, Romeo,” you assure him, even though you don’t like that either. It’s only been a few weeks, but you’ve already gotten a little too used to having him around every few days. “Go to work.”
He hangs up and you toss your phone onto your bed. “What a dork,” you mutter. You don’t have to look in the mirror to know your cheeks are pink.
***
The bones of the set are up when you get into the space on Friday. Peter is pulling your actors for fittings—staying remarkably quiet about having to dress someone who isn’t stick-thin—and when Kelvin delivered his Act One monologue on Wednesday, you almost couldn’t hear the capital letters.
Almost.
Sitting in the dark house on Friday afternoon, you feel your head tilt again, watching him bargaining for Eurydice’s release from hell. Before you can stop them, Farouk leans over and hooks you with a dark, raised eyebrow. “I’m still hearing Calculon,” he whispers.
You smile back and nod. “Me too.” To the stage, you raise your voice. “Time out!”
From where she sits on the floor, Holly—Eurydice—lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
You get to your feet and make your way from the third row up onto the stage. “Um, okay. Holly, Keisha, you can take five.”
Kelvin’s shoulders drop. “What am I doing wrong now?” he asks once his co-stars have cleared the set. He doesn’t sound defiant, which instantly wins him more grace in your book. But maybe a little too defeated.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” you assure him, taking a moment to pull your hair up and off your face in a high ponytail. “Unfortunately, you’re not doing much right either.”
He sighs. “I’m just trying to give this scene the, ya know, the gravity it deserves.”
“I know,” you nod. “That much is obvious.” You look at your leading man for a moment. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and soap opera-star handsome. You’re almost certain, without having to ask, that he got into theatre as a way to meet girls and stuck with it because he kept getting roles. If you hadn’t seen him in King Lear last summer, you would have believed he only got as far as he had because of his looks.
But under all that glamour, he is a good actor. Dumb as a brick, but a good actor. You know he can give you what you’re asking for if you can drag him into the right headspace.
“So, what?” he asks, holding out his hands. “Should I be like. Less serious?”
“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not about what’s going on in the rest of the scene,” you say carefully, still studying him. “It’s—” A thought occurs to you, and you clap your hands together briefly. “Pop quiz. What are the two things you need to do on stage when you’re an actor?” He opens his mouth, and you hold up a hand. “And don’t give me any of that ‘plumb the depths of the human experience’ or ‘hold a mirror up to the eyes of man so that he can see himself as he is’ bullshit. Basic, bare-bones minimum to be an actor.” You hold up two fingers. “What do you need to be able to do?”
“Uh…” Kelvin’s brow furrows and he looks from you out to Farouk who has moved to the pit.
“Don’t look at him.” You take your free hand and reach out to gently grab his chin, forcing his attention back to you. “He’s not going to help you,” you assure him. “If you want to be an actor you have to be able to…”
“Uh, talk?” he guesses.
“Very good,” you grin, putting one finger down. “Talk, and what else?”
He looks around again. “I don’t know. Move?”
“Nope.”
His frown deepens. “You don’t need to move to be an actor?”
“It’s a nice-to-have,” you concede with another shrug. “Not a need-to-have. Come on. Acting is two things: it’s talking and it’s…” When he still looks confused, you tap your ear twice.
“Listening?”
“Esattamente,” you smile. “Nobody ever talks about that second one, do they?”
“I listen,” he says defensively.
“Do you?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips. “Or do you wait for your turn to talk?”
Kelvin opens his mouth to disagree but closes it again. “Well. I mean. I don’t want to miss my cues so like. I’m paying attention.”
“I know,” you assure him. “But listening and paying attention aren’t the same thing. Look,” you take his hand and pull him back to his mark. “This is the big moment, right? What you say here is what’s going to convince Persephone to let you bring Eurydice home, so I get where you think you should be putting your focus and your emphasis. But I’m going to give you the same advice that one of my favorite directors ever gave me.”
Kelvin tips his head forward expectantly. “Which is…”
“It’s not about you,” you smile, hearing yourself quoting AJ Quinn for the second time in a week. “It doesn’t matter what the scene is. You put the focus on the other person and pour all your attention into them and it’ll free you up.”
“Free me up to do what?”
You lift your shoulders with a shrug. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” You clear your throat. “Kiesha! Are you around?”
“Eavesdropping,” she says unapologetically as she pops her head back around the stage door.
You smile. “I appreciate the honesty. Come here,” you beckoned her over.
“You need me too, boss?” Holly called.
You glance back over your shoulder with a smile. “Not yet, babe. Do me a favor and actually take five?”
“You mean go away?”
“I mean go away,” you say without letting your smile drop. “You’re my control group. I need to know if you notice a difference.”
She gives you a little salute. “Aye-aye, Captain!”
Once the stage door slams shut again, you turn to Kiesha. “Alright, you, my beautiful Persephone.” You smile and point to her mark. “I would like you to deliver your ruling again. And you,” You spin on your heel and point at Kelvin. “I want you to listen to her. Put your focus on her until I tell you otherwise and when you speak, it’s in response to what she’s telling you.” You tap your ear again. “To what you’ve heard her say. Not just the lines you read while you were looking for your cue. And for this little experiment, it's okay if you skip or switch a line around. You're responding, you're not reciting.” You give him a look. “I’m trusting you to know the difference.”
Kelvin swallows and nods. “Kay.”
“Are we doing the whole thing?” Kiesha asks. “Like, all the way up until Hades?”
“No, no,” you shake your head. “Just go to the end of page 24.” You hop down from the stage and join Farouk at the railing above the pit. “Whenever you’re ready, Kiesh.”
Kiesha delivers her monologue again, every bit the sympathetic but unyielding queen of the underworld she’s been since her audition. “I feel for you, Orpheus,” she says at the end, with a sad shake of her head. “Truly, I do. But what you’re asking…” she crosses when she’s supposed to and places her hand on his arm. “I can’t bear to hear this argument again. It’s too much.”
You inhale steadily and wait for Kelvin to speak. But he doesn’t. Not right away. Instead, he stares at her hand for a long beat before he looks up at her. “Too much?” he repeats, and his voice is softer than it’s been. “Too much for who? For you? The one who has the power to say who can stay and who can go? If it’s too much for you, great queen, then tell me who here can bear it?” There’s an edge to his words; slightly ragged with emotion that, for the first time, it sounds like he’s fighting to control rather than cranking up. “Because I can’t. I can’t bear the light of another day without her. She was stolen from me. The years we were meant to have—stolen. There must be some justice for that.”
“There is no justice in the land of the dead,” Kiesha says quietly. “That’s a mortal word. It means nothing here. I’m sorry,” she says again and motions to the stage. “But this is where her story was always meant to end.”
Kelvin takes longer to respond as if he’s considering this. When he speaks again, his voice is hollow. “This is where all our stories are meant to end,” he says. “And if that’s true, then you know you’ll have her eventually. And me. All of us. Every living being already belongs to you from the moment we take our first breath. And our time…” he stops and swallows hard. “Our time is fleeting at best. A mortal life—what is that? A few decades at the most. This is all I’m asking for.” He crosses unexpectedly and reaches for her hand. “A few years returned to one soul. This is nothing. A blink of an eye in the span of eternity. This…” he stops and drops his head. “This only matters to me.”
You feel a deep swell of pride in your chest and blame that for the way your throat is a little constricted when Farouk leans over and whispers, “Calculon, who?”
On stage, Kiesha drops character and shifts her weight to her back foot, giving Kelvin an appraising look. “Goddamn, dude,” she says. “Lemme go get the keys, I’ll let everybody out of Hell if you keep this up.”
Rehearsal is much better after that. It’s only a half hour later that you call it for the night, thoroughly satisfied with the adjustments Kelvin has made to his performance. You send Farouk home with everyone else, promising him that you can do the final walkthrough and lock up.
You’re still sitting in your usual third-row spot when a pair of hands clap over your eyes and before you can shriek and start biting, a familiar voice is right beside your ear. “Guess who.”
Your immediate panic fades into a mix of amusement and confusion as you bring your hands up to run over Joe’s. “Hmm,” you say aloud. “Well, the voice sounds sort of familiar. But it certainly couldn’t be Joseph—he’s supposed to be in New Jersey all night.”
“Poor bloke,” he says with a quiet laugh. “Anyone else it could be?”
“Not sure,” you smile and reach back to run your fingertips over the tops of his hands and forearms. “But these hands feel pretty nice.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” you nod. “A little rough but very talented.” He snorts and drops his hands to your shoulders, standing up as you tilt your head backward and study him upside down. “What are you doing here?” you ask, accepting the kiss he bends to drop to your lips. “I thought your call was at five.”
“It was,” he nods, coming around to shuffle into your row. “But they pivoted to something they don’t need me for because the bar we’re meant to be shooting in had a fire last night.”
You look up with wide eyes. “Wasn’t me, Officer. I’ve been here the whole time.”
He grins as he drops into the seat beside your bag. “Likely story.”
“But really,” you set your pen inside your notebook and turn to face him, “what are you doing here?”
“I was curious,” he says with a little roll of his shoulder. “Your producer let me in—told me I could watch a little of the rehearsal.”
You frown and look back at the empty theater. “Really? You were watching?”
“Just the last little bit,” he says and nods toward the darker corner under the balcony. He lifts his brow. “Is that…alright?”
You consider for a moment. “Depends,” you say slowly. “What’d you think?” And then, before he can answer, you shake your head, nerves getting the better of you. “No, never mind. Don’t tell me.” Your pen and script slip easily into your bag, and you slide the zipper closed. “And don’t get comfy,” you say and reach over to tap his knee. “I don’t want to hang out here all night.”
“Fair enough,” he agrees easily and gives you his hand to help you up. “You wanna give me a tour first?”
“Ten-cent tour,” you counter. “I’ve spent too much time in old theaters with you already.”
He’s still smiling when you make it to the aisle. “And here I was, feeling nostalgic.”
You roll your eyes affectionately. “Come on,” you wave him on to follow you, leaving your bag on the aisle seat. “I assume you’re familiar enough with the house that I don’t have to go row-by-row.”
“If you must.”
He comes with you for your usual final walkthrough of the night. Most of the directors you know foist this responsibility off on the AD, but you’ve never been able to sleep if you haven’t personally turned the key in the lock and shut off all the lights.
It’s a control thing. You have to work on it.
You’ve led Joe through the green room and up the stairs for a brief sweep of the stage before you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you back against him as you stand between the legs of heavy midnight blue velvet curtains. You squirm when his stubble tickles your neck. “What are you doing?” you laugh, even though it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing.
“I told you,” he says quietly, his lips against the bottom of your jaw. “Feeling nostalgic.”
You hear the sigh you let out—something like giggly exasperation. “Joe…”
“You remember that little black box in Chelsea?” he asks, going with you when you start walking toward the fly rail. “When we were doing Proof?”
You’re shaking your head as you turn around, not slipping out from between his arms. “Huh-uh,” you laugh. “I am not messing around with you on this stage.”
“Messing around?” he repeats, capturing your lips in a quick, soft kiss. “You make it sound so cheap.”
Your nose brushes his even as your ass hits the edge of the railing. “I don’t care about cheap,” you say, trading him another kiss before you glance up at the weights and ropes strategically hanging above your heads. “But you, me, and this fly rail are all too old to be fucking around on it.”
Joe laughs softly but doesn’t argue when you duck under his arm and take his hand again, heading for the hallway. He hits the lights on your way out and waits while you check the lock on the stage door before he stops you again. “Hey,” he says, the teasing tone fades from his voice. “Stop for a second.”
You do, frowning slightly in confusion. “What’s up?”
“You asked what I thought,” he reminds you, stepping closer to invade your personal space. “When I was watching your rehearsal.”
Your throat bobs when you swallow, and you lift your eyebrows. “I did,” you say evenly. You’ve let go of his hand in favor of resting yours on his hips. “And…?”
His eyes move from yours to your lips and back again. “And I think you’re amazing,” he says softly. “I think you’re an amazing director,” he goes on. “And I think this show is going to be fantastic once you’re done working your magic on it.”
You have to swallow again, though it’s not because of nerves this time. It’s to try and chase back the unexpected swell of emotion in your chest that his words bring. You glance down at the narrow space between you and clear your throat. “Well, I mean, I steal most of my best stuff from your dad so—”
“No, don’t do that,” he says, and his tone is gentle, but firm. His right hand comes up to hold your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “You’re brilliant,” he says. “Don’t make jokes like you’re not.”
You inhale slowly, finding it hard to keep your eyes on his. Your instinct is always to deflect, make a joke, redirect the praise elsewhere—the actors, the production team, the crew. “Thank you,” you say softly.
The dimple appears in Joe’s left cheek as he smiles. “But I am totally telling my dad that you’ve been calling him one of your favorite directors.”
You grin, looping your fingers in his belt loops to pull him closer. “I hope so,” you say before his lips meet yours again.
It starts off as another soft, sweet kiss. But the moment you tug him closer, your back presses against the wall and your stomach swoops with that entangled rush of excitement and familiarity that you only feel with him. You open your mouth easily, eagerly inviting him to stroke his tongue over yours.
“Come on,” you whisper when you break away a moment later and nod to the empty hall behind you.
He follows you without hesitation as you turn the knob on the second door on the left and pull him inside. It’s dark and smells like the attic of a thrift store, but there are a few illuminated outlets that let you safely navigate the cramped space. Walking backward, you push Joe’s shirt up over his head, dropping it to the ground behind him before you shed your own.
His lips are on yours again while his hands are working to unbutton your denim shorts. You reach behind to unclasp your bra and drop it to the ground next, breaking away from his kiss with a quiet gasp when he slides his hand into your pants. “Take these off,” he mutters into the crook of your neck, using the hand that isn’t working its way between your thighs to try and shove the fabric the rest of the way down your hips.
“Trying,” you huff with a laugh, pausing when your knees touch the velvet chaise lounge you’d stubbed your toe on last week. You shimmy out of your shorts and panties in a rush to return to your task of ridding Joe of the last of his clothes as quickly as possible.
It’s only been a week since the last time you’d been together, but it feels like longer when he pulls your face back to his and kisses you deeply, dragging a muffled moan from the back of your throat. He groans when you reach down to stroke his cock and if you weren’t already wet, that sound alone would have done the job.
You grab his hips and swap places, pushing him down to sit on the chaise before you climb into his lap. His hands sweep down your back while you hold his face, swallowing the sounds he makes when you lick into his mouth, circling his tongue with yours. He lets you tease him for a moment with your legs spread over his before he takes hold of your hips and pulls you down onto his cock.
“Fuck,” you sigh against his lips, pulling back for a breath. It’s easier to move when you reach behind him to grab the edge of the chaise. He keeps his grip tight on your hips, pulling you down every time he thrusts up into you. And even though you know you’re alone, that there’s no one else in the theater, there’s a silly little thrill that keeps you moving hard and fast as if someone might walk in on you at any moment.
Joe moves his hands up to squeeze your breasts, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers in a way that has you sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth and clenching harder around him on his next thrust.
Still gripping the back of the settee with one hand, you push three fingers of the other into his mouth and try to bite back a moan at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue sucking on them. He lets out a strangled sound when you pull them out and he watches your hand move to rub your clit. “I can—”
“Huh-uh,” you shake your head and look down at where his hands are full of your tits. “Keep doing this.”
He obliges and you lean down to kiss him again, letting him suck on your tongue while you rub yourself in time with the way he’s moving inside you. It doesn’t take long before that sweet rush of pleasure floods your body, sending sparks all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. Joe is not far behind you and when he comes, you press your forehead to his, watching the relief play across his face.
Joe opens his eyes and smiles up at you, the rapid rise and fall of his chest starts to slow as his heart rate and breathing returns to normal. After a moment, his eyes shift to somewhere just past your face and his brow furrows in confusion. “What is that?” he asks, squinting in the dark. “Antlers?” You glance over your shoulder and laugh as he finally looks around. “Where the fuck did you bring me?”
“Prop room,” you say, letting your eyes roam over the shelves of old luggage, typewriters, strange paintings found at thrift stores, and the cubby full of mounted antlers and taxidermied animals.
“Prop room,” he echoes, pulling you back in for another kiss. “Guess it was more comfortable than the fly rail,” he murmurs the moment before his lips meet yours.
***
Joe and Wes are already at Hobb’s when you arrive on Thursday night. There’s something about seeing the two of them together, laughing and talking in the back corner of a dark hole-in-the-wall bar that squeezes your heart.
Wes jumps up before you’re even halfway across the room. “Yankee!” he exclaims when you’re within hugging distance. His arms are around you, hugging you so tight it’s almost hard to breathe.
When he finally lets you go and you can pull back to hold him at arms’ length, you can’t help your smile. “Still the best looking guy in any room,” you say, reaching up to pat his cheek. “You look great.” He looks remarkably the same as he did ten years ago. His face is a little fuller, but it matches the way the rest of his frame has filled out. He looks solid and sturdy, and his silky blonde hair still flops in his eyes like a Backstreet Boy.
“You look great,” he counters and bends down to kiss your cheek.
“Yeah, yeah,” Joe stands up next. “We all look great,” he grumbles good-naturedly and shuffles to let you into the booth.
If you were worried that ten years was too far for your friendship with Wes to stretch, you were wrong. And you’re so happy to have been wrong. For the next few hours, over drinks and baskets of fries, you get to hear everything about his life and share everything worth sharing about yours. He wants to hear all about Giuliana, all about the show and the ones you’ve directed in the last few years.
And in between all that, you get to watch him and Joe spin that magic that comes from a lifelong friendship. They finish each other’s sentences, they laugh at exactly the same time no matter the joke, they pass decades of history back and forth with a single glance. Before you’d met them, you hadn’t known any straight men who loved their friends the way that Joe and Wes did. Carefree and open with their affection like you’d never seen before. Arms always flung around each other, always messing with the other’s hair. They hugged goodbye just about every time they parted—even if it was just to go their separate ways after a party.
And watching them now, it’s as if no time has passed for any of you. You can’t help but think about the first time you met Wes—when Joe introduced him at a party the third week of term. How you’d watched them trip over each other trying to answer your question of how they’d met and dissolving into laughter and half-finished words and sentences that triggered memories you couldn’t follow. But you hadn’t minded then—and you don’t mind now—you had just watched them for a long time before they’d quieted down long enough for you to ask one more question. So, which one of you was Rosencrantz, and which one was Guildenstern?
You’re at the bar, having volunteered to fetch the next round, when someone says your name with a tap on your shoulder. You turn slowly and feel your face split into a bright smile at the sight of your former director, Trinity Thomas waiting to give you a quick hug.
“How are you, sweetie?” she asks before letting you go and it’s funny because a month ago, her posh British accent would have struck you with an almost painful pang of nostalgia. But after spending the last few weeks with Joe, you hardly notice it.
“I’m great,” you say truthfully. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’ve got meetings in the city this week,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand in the direction of the bridge. “But we Airbnb’d a flat about a block from here, just for a little breathing room from all the Manhattan bullshit. I’m just here picking up dinner.”
You smile. “We?” You look behind her briefly. “Is Arthur with you?”
“With me on the trip—yes,” she says of her new husband with a fond smile. “But he’s likely asleep already, the love. While I’ve been working, Callie’s been dragging him all over the five boroughs looking at colleges—”
“No,” you say dramatically, not having to fake the gasp. “Callie’s not old enough for that.”
“She’ll be a senior in the fall,” Trin says with a sigh. “Don’t remind me. I’m still only thirty-five,” she goes on with a wry grin. “I’ve no idea how my youngest child is nearly out of high school.” You’re still laughing at that when she gets a thoughtful line between her fair eyebrows. “Did I see you’ve got something opening at the Hayes?”
You nod as Ralph sets three drinks on the bar for you. “Yeah, we’re going up in the middle of August.”
“Oh, we’ll have to come,” she says, delighted. “The girls would love that.”
“Just tell me when,” you promise. “I’ll make sure you get the VIP treatment.”
“I’m so glad I ran into you,” she tucks her sleek bob behind her ear. When you first met her, her hair was a well-maintained golden honey blonde, but these days it’s a soft silvery-white that makes her look like an elf from Lord of the Rings. Aside from that, and a few more lines by her eyes and mouth, Trinity has barely aged in almost fifteen years.
“It’s such a coincidence,” you admit and glance toward the booth where Joe and Wes have stopped their conversation and aren’t even pretending to not be staring at you. “We’ve got a mini LAMDA reunion going on tonight.”
Trinity follows your gaze and squints for a moment before she looks back to you. “Good God,” she says. “Is that AJ’s boy?”
“It is,” you say with a laugh. “He’s filming here this summer.”
“You two are still together?” she asks, lifting her brows again in surprise.
“Oh, no,” you shake your head on instinct and then rush on to correct yourself. “No, I mean, we are. Now. It’s just that—” Your mouth dips in a quick frown. “Well, still isn’t the right word. More…together again?”
“Well, if that isn’t a surprise,” she comments, smiling again.
You laugh again. “To no one more than me, trust me.”
“Thomas!” One of the kitchen staff comes through the swinging door with two plastic bags full of takeout containers. He sets them on the bar without waiting for Trinity to confirm they’re hers.
“Ah,” she looks over her shoulder. “My grease.”
“Enjoy,” you say with a grin before you grab her for another quick hug. “It was so good to see you, Trin.”
“You too,” she gives you a tight squeeze before she lets you go. “We’re here until Sunday night,” she goes on. “I’d love to get coffee or dinner or something. Is your number still the same?"
It is and you let her know, then you wait for her to grab her bags of food and squeeze out of the crowded bar before you scoop up the drinks still waiting on the bar and make your way back to the table.
“Who was that?” Joe asks as you slide in next to him. “She looked familiar.”
“Trinity Thomas,” you answer, handing Wes his Jack and Coke.
They exchange a glance, their heads tilting at the exact same time. “…Dr. Thomas?” Joe asks. “From LAMDA?”
“The very same,” you answer evenly, hoping that’ll be it.
It isn’t.
Wes’ eyes narrow while he sips his drink. “Wasn’t Dr. Thomas married to…”
You inhale and let out a quiet sigh. “The ethically bankrupt, but oh-so-charming Professor Javi Martinez?” You finish for him and nod once. “Yeah. She was. At one point.”
Joe’s face wrinkles further in confusion. “Am I missing something? Were you not just all chummy a moment ago?”
You raise your glass to your lips and take a long sip. “She gave me my first job when I was back in New York.”
“What?” Joe asks, his voice raising an octave.
Wes stares at you for a moment, then looks in the direction Trinity just left. “So, you’re telling me…” he looks toward the door again, as if she’s about to come back in and explain it for him. “You shared a man with that woman…and she gave you a job?”
You feel your cheeks burn. “Not like…I mean, it wasn’t right away that she did that. Obviously. That whole thing with Javi was in…” you frown, trying to remember. “2013? It must have been? That first summer I was in London.”
“Mmhmm,” Wes nods along.
“And I didn’t know he was married at the time, if you will both recall,” you added, pointing at them emphatically. “But anyway. That all blew up and she moved to the States sometime between then and 2018, because that’s when she found me, living the dream as everyone’s favorite tour guide on the Circle Line Harbor Cruise.” You remember vividly how you’d spotted her in the crowd on the top deck of the sightseeing cruise you used to lead and how you’d almost thrown up over the railing or jumped overboard to get away from her and the shame that still rose up sticky and bitter in the back of your throat when you thought about what you’d done. “She came up to me afterward and told me she’d just had someone drop out of She Loves Me two weeks before they were meant to go on tour, told me to come and audition.” You shrugged. “And saved my life.”
You’d said this to Trinity before. She’d disagreed, corrected you, and said that if anything, she’d just saved your career. Or jumpstarted it again.
But you knew differently. When she’d boarded the boat that day, you’d been three months behind on your credit cards, working two exhausting jobs you hated, and a breath away from having to move back in with your parents and become the ultimate theatre kid cliché.
She’d given you a chance. That tour had turned into another and at the end of the next one, the choreographer’s partner was looking for an AD and he liked the vision you pitched for his little black box show in New Rochelle.
And so on and so forth. Things led to things. Opportunities snowballed. And now here you were, about to open at The Hayes in just a few short weeks.
Joe is shaking his head. “That’s unbelievable.”
“No,” you mirror him. “It’s not. She told me she’d always known Javi was cheating on her—I was just the first one who felt guilty enough to tell her what was going on.” You roll a shoulder. “She said I had guts. And she liked that about me.”
“It’s still mental,” Wes argues. “I mean…she was so mean as a teacher.”
You snort. “I never had her. But, I don’t know,” you say with a laugh as another memory hits you. The memory of your friend and flatmate sitting in the living room on her yoga mat, burning incense and repeating phrases from The Power of Positive Thinking audiobook she’d internalized. “What did they say in those self-actualization recordings Claire used to play all the time? People will—”
“People will be attracted to my positive energy and help me achieve my goals,” Joe and Wes say in unison. The moment earning a clink of their glasses when they finish.
“Yes,” you nod, still laughing. “Exactly. Guess some of that energy finally sank in. In fact,” you raise your glass again. “Let’s drink to Claire and her power of positive thinking.”
They need no prompting to toast again.
There’s a discussion about getting another round or heading out when Joe’s phone rings and he has to step outside to chat with his agent. Left alone, you and Wes decide to go to the bar and wait. At least freeing up the table you’d been camped out in for the last few hours.
It’s not Ralph who steps up to get your order, it’s a kid you don’t recognize—he barely looks old enough to drink the alcohol he’s serving. Wes speaks before you can. “I’d like a Clockwork Green please,” he says with so much confidence that you have to do a double-take before he goes on to explain, “It’s the same as a Clockwork Orange but with lime cordial instead of orange juice.”
The kid behind the bar looks momentarily panicked and glances from Wes to you, prompting you to put your hand on Wes’ arm and smack him. “No, don’t do that,” you warn, trying not to laugh while he makes up another drink.
“Fine,” he sighs theatrically and then straightens again. “Sorry, I know most places don’t have lime cordial,” he apologizes smoothly and glances at the bottles lining the back of the bar. “Okay, I guess I’d just like to have a…oh, I don’t know. Make it a Second Place Pony—no sugar rim, though.”
You swat him again, unable to keep a straight face. “Oh my God, stop it.” You look back to the bartender. “Ignore him, honey. Those are not real drinks.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wes is giggling like a child. “I’m just fucking around.”
You sigh and give him a light shove while the bartender looks somewhere between relieved and annoyed. “Just another Jack and Coke and an old-fashioned for me, please,” you order, making a mental note to give this poor boy a large tip.
There’s a companionable silence that settles between you once you’ve got your drinks. You’re about to break it and ask what he’s working on these days when Wes speaks first. “It’s really good to see you,” he says quietly, glancing over with smile.
You can’t help but return it. “Likewise, pal.”
His eyes flick momentarily to the window of the bar, through which you can still see Joe pacing while he talks on his phone. Not in the stressed and anxious way he does when he’s irritated. If anything, he just looks bored. “And it’s good to see him again,” he says quietly. “Like this, I mean.”
“Like what?” You turn back around on your stool once Joe looks up with a grin as he catches you watching him.
“Like…happy,” Wes says as if it’s obvious. “It’s been a long time since he’s been that.”
You roll your eyes. “Come on now,” you say. “He’s had plenty of people around to make him happy in the last ten years.”
“Sure,” he agrees. “Just not like this. Not like you do.”
You’re not buying it. “Really? Not even the one he was going to marry?” you challenge. “Not even for a little bit?”
Wes makes a quiet pfft sound between his lips. “That whole thing was never going to happen,” he says with confidence. “He was just kidding himself.”
You give him a side eye and shake your head. “I don’t believe you,” you decide. “I’m sure she was lovely.”
He laughs. “Oh, she was,” he agrees. “They’ve all been lovely in one way or another. Just doesn’t matter.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because when it comes to that idiot out there,” he looks toward the window again and then down at you. “There’ve only ever been two women, Yank. You and everybody else.”
You can only meet his eyes for a moment before you have to look down at the orange peel floating in the amber pool of your drink. Half of you wants to give Wes another playful shove and tell him he’s being ridiculous. Tell him to stop making this so much more serious than it might be.
But you don’t. Because he’s just put to words the thing you never wanted to admit to yourself. That everyone in your life had been unintentionally sorted into two groups: Before Joe and After Joe.
Only that wasn’t the whole truth. The whole truth—the one you’ve spent unsuccessful relationship after unsuccessful relationship avoiding—is that you’d been sorting people into two groups since First Year Seminar when you’d glanced up from a folded sheet of notebook paper and found a pair of brown eyes studying you intently.
Joe. And Not Joe.
But instead of saying any of that, you clear your throat and glance back up. “Is this where you conveniently forget why I left London and give me some speech about not hurting him again?”
As fond as you are of Wes, it’s what you’ve been waiting for. Some adapted version of the shovel speech or reminder that his best friend’s heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit.
“Oh no,” he says with a smile that’s softened with all the affection of a big brother. “This is where I say thank you for giving him the chance to correct the biggest mistake of his life,” he slides his tumbler over a few inches on the bar and quietly clinks it with yours.
You feel your throat constrict against your will and instead of trying to manage any real response to that, you settle for resting your temple against his shoulder. “I missed you, Wes,” you say quietly.
He turns and kisses the top of your head. “Missed you too.”
---
A/N: My earlier warning about not fucking your professors stands. Sometimes their wives give you jobs, but you still end up with a lifelong professor kink and very few places for it to go so you'll end up writing RPF about it in the hopes of squashing it down where it belongs.
Credit to: -Big Fish -Station Eleven -The best acting advice I've ever been given from my favorite director, Jack -My friend Holly for allowing me to use lines from the retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice she wrote in grad school
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Chapter 10>>
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I love you. I keese you. I would love to know what you think!
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