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mooishbeam · 5 months

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『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers.

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette.

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax.

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks.

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too.

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day.

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.

She wants...my name.

My name.

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy.

How fucking dare they.

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it.

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets.

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?”

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.”

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off.

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.”

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn��t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger.

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand.

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked.

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.”

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.”

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you.

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup.

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.”

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile.

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked.

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.”

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you.

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess.

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it.

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-”

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped.

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire.

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance?

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added.

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.”

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last.

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning.

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort.

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful.

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club.

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair.

“Spill it” you demand.

“Spill what?”

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.”

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend.

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance.

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul.

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration.

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible.

“We love each other. That won’t happen.”

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-”

Ding

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag.

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability.

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word.

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things.

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal.

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.”

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles.

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort.

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone.

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?”

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion.

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-”

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.”

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you.

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk.

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest.

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics.

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen.

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt.

“Ajax.”

“Hm?”

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete.

You unfurl the cover.

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry:

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing my sun and star ♡ my blood and bone ♡ ♡ my goddess, my angel, the very essence of my existence ♡ ♡ my love is infinite and eternal you are destined to be mine ♡ ♡ forever, forever she is mine ”

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile.

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.”

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage.

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up.

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf.

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock.

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.”

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.”

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney.

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?”

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.”

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.”

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back.

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums.

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.”

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.

“You mind making another, Lyney?”

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?”

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.”

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely.

“How many times must I apologize?”

“Until you die.”

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.”

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours.

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, from back home.”

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.”

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.”

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.”

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-”

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-”

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-”

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp.

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege.

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run.

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him.

“Ajax?”

“Yea?” he chirps.

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek.

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him.

“No baby, nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin.

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on.

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.”

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.”

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves.

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight.

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost."

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers.

“You don’t need…me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-”

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle.

“What if I just...lock you up?”

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs.

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.”

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant.

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical.

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.”

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.”

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.”

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair.

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion.

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back. Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes.

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.

“Ajax.”

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body.

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips.

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy.

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud.

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.”

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand.

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question.

“Of course.”

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing.

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length.

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!”

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel.

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”

No. It can’t be true.

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?”

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin au #ajax smut #ajax x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #i need ajax BAD #so sorry about the wait this time

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

Note

Cutie pie snookums 🦋💫

I love love loved your piece of art for the Leo x aphrodite reader request ( had me giggling and kicking my feet 🤭)

Also it's more like a headcanon for all our precious lover boys ( Leo, Frank, Luke, Percy, Jason ( not me praying I didn't forgot one of my men )) talking about the reader and what they mean to them and reader overhears it

Nah cause I am giggling and blushing just thinking about it ahhhh

Mhuw💋 Mhuaw 💋

~ 🎀

⋆⭒˚.⋆ what do you say when I’m not around? hcs.

content: hcs for leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, percy jackson & jason grace warning: so much fluff you're gonna wanna throw up author's note: THESE ARE MY CHILDREN EACH OF THEM IS SPECIAL TO ME PLS PLS PLS TELL ME WHICH ONE WAS YOUR FAV BC I LEGIT CANNOT PICK but i need the comments to be like 'oh mommy my favorite was (insert fave here)' and then you list every single reason oaky thanks this will do wonders for my self-image also bow anon is keeping yall fed, everyone say thanks to bow anon while youre in those comments

𝜗𝜚 leo valdez

you were walking towards bunker nine, somehow managing to hold the two plates steady in your hand and also avoid tripping over all the plants on your way there.

leo had missed lunch...again

you were sure he'd starve to death and becoming a skeleton in that damn bunker if it weren't for you

as you approached the door, opening your mouth to scream out your presence you paused as you heard your name through the door

curiously, you peeked in through the small crack, making out leo and jason before turning your ear towards it to hear better

"...i'm telling you, she's the best thing that every happened to me."

melting already

"you're so sappy," jason teased

"if you felt what i felt, you'd be sappy too," leo replied and you could just picture the cheesy smile on his face

"am i in one of those terrible rom-com's piper makes us watch?" taunted jason

"you know what? probably. and i'm very lucky. grateful, even," leo laughed back, "to make her laugh, smile, have her close, it- i'll know i'll be okay because i've got her. i mean, how bad can it be if she's by my side?"

jason and leo both turned towards the door of the bunker as it creaked open, revealing the sniffling and crying girl leo had just been talking about, two sandwiches held in her hands

"hey, hey, what's wrong- wait, were you eavesdropping?" leo questioned as he moved towards her, taking the sandwiches out of her hands and setting them on his workbench, the girl instantly wrapping her arms around him

"maybe, but that's not the point-"

"kinda feels like the point to me-"

"no, the point is that you're so sweet, leo. what did i do to deserve you?" you all but sobbed against his chest, leo laughing lightly as he rubbed your shoulders.

"you know, i ask myself that every morning," hummed back leo, pressing his lips to her temple, "i mean, i'd definitely starve if it wasn't for you."

"hey, i'd make sure you didn't starve!" jason insisted, both of the couple sending him a questioning look

"and what did you have for lunch, superman?" you prompted and jason looked like a deer caught in headlights, "that's what i thought."

"i meant everything i said, you know," leo later told you, after jason had scampered off to get his own meal.

you looked up from your lunch, a smile twitching at your lips

"i know. and i'd say i'm pretty lucky too."

𝜗𝜚 frank zhang

you and frank had a little study date planned for today, meeting at the little bakery that you guys frequented at new rome

the owners knew you and frank by name, a cute little polaroid of you guys framed behind the cash register

you're class ran long, the professor leaving the q&a open for far too long

you felt bad but knew frank wouldn't mind ordering for you and waiting a bit

your sweet boy

you walked in one of the side doors of the bakery, as it was the first one you ran into

you were beginning to make your way towards your regular table, only stopping because you hear what you knew to be frank's bashful laugh

"come on, can't tell me your favorite thing about her?" the owner prompted with a wide smile and you heard frank's laugh again, just picturing his blazing face

"there's too many. we'd be here all week," frank replied, easily, and you felt that warm and gushy feeling frank always leaves you with

"but you have to have a favorite of all favorites though," insisted the owner and there was a pause from frank, both you and the owner waiting with baited breath

"okay okay. when she thinks i'm not looking, she just looks at me with- with this smile. and i can't describe it but it's my favorite. it's just a look and a smile, but it means the world to me," admitted frank, the owner cooing and her body sagging at his sweet words

you were having a similar reaction, off to the side of the restaurant, a hand held to your chest.

"goodness, you two are just too cute. ugh, my husband and i used to be just like you, all lovesick and gross," the owner mused as you finally announced your presence, pretending to have just shown up.

though, frank could tell something was up based on the kiss you gave his cheek, the boy instantly looking down at you with a raised brow

you just wrinkled your nose at him, grabbing your coffee and baked goods and taking your basically assigned seats outside the cafe

"you know, i just love it when you come up behind me and just give me those massive bear hugs for no reason. it feels good- like, cozy and like home," you stated, seemingly, unprompted

but frank caught on quick, shaking his head and smiling at the girl

"how much of that did you hear?"

"more than enough, sweet boy."

"never gonna live it down?"

"oh, certainly not."

𝜗𝜚 luke castellan

"come on, percy, you can do better than that," luke barked at the boy with a laugh, percy heaving on the ground of the training arena

"you suck."

"are you talking to yourself or...?" asks luke with a smirk, causing percy to squint a glare at him

"i'll call for y/n and tell her youre being mean to me," threatened percy, completely unaware that you had already shown up with water for the both of them, taking a seat in the bleachers and waiting for one of them to notice you

"if you think she'll be on your side, you're wrong," luke laughed, helping percy off the ground.

(without meaning to, he'd later repeat this phrase word for word when revealing to percy that he was the lightening thief and kronos right hand man. percy would mention you and this would be luke's response. he would end up being wrong)

"of course she'll be on my side, look at this face," joked percy, exhaustedly swishing a hand towards his own face.

"ha! you're funnier than i give you credit for," luke mocks and percy huffs

"i don't know why that sweet girl is with your mean ass."

"you know, i ask myself that at least twice a day but...it's good that we're together. for both of us," answers luke, turning more serious as he shrugs his shoulders.

you're intrigued now, leaning forwards with interest

"how so?" percy prompts

"well...she makes me want to be a better person. i want to be the best guy for her, it's what she deserves. and she needs me to let loose a little, have some fun and break a few rules," luke reveals, his eyes catching on movement towards the entrance of the arena and a smile gracing his lips

"speaking of the little devil," he laughs, the girl peeking around the corner with a wide smile

"that's not what you were saying about me two seconds," you mock, passing a water bottle off to percy, who took it eagerly, before hold luke's out to him

"hmm. i don't know what your talking about," luke taunts with a twisted smile and you just shake your head at him.

"okay, mr. trouble, i gotta get going. but...i'm glad i have you too," you muttered, leaning up and pressing a kiss to where his scar ended on his cheek

he hid his blush well, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she went to pull away

"i'll see you later, hun?"

"obviously. also, percy, he twisted his ankle last week during capture the flag. just so you know," the girl winked, smiling cheekily at luke's paling face before scampering out of the arena.

(she'd later spill a similar secret to percy in the middle of manhattan-turned-warzone, giving percy key information on luke to help him win. she'll live with the guilt forever, unsure if it's survivors or not)

"you're a snitch!" luke called after the girl, her laughs being the only response he got.

𝜗𝜚 percy jackson

"are you sure they don't need help?" you asked percy's step father, paul, with a giggle as you two heard a clatter from the kitchen.

"knowing them, they're probably making the most extravagant pizza on the planet. one of us should probably check on them to make sure they don't blow the apartment up," paul hummed in agreement, nodding you towards the kitchen

"knowing percy, i wouldn't be surpirsed," you wink and paul laughs as you leave the living room, steadily making your way towards the kitchen

something told you to wait by the door for a bit, so you do, biting down a smile as you listen to percy and his mom.

"wait, wait, we're we supposed to preheat the oven??" percy asked and you could just feel the dead stare sally gave him

"yes, percy. i thought that was obvious."

"what if we just crank the heat super super high up-"

"no. immediately no."

"fineeeeee," percy droned, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

"so...y/n's sweet," sally started and you blushed, knowing that percy valued his mom's opinion above all else

"yeah. she's the best. oh, you should see her when she's doing something she really enjoys. her face get's all wrinkly cause she's scrunching it up but her smile is so bright, mom. and right before she's about to fall alseep, she always manages to snuggle closer to you and she twitches her nose twice before falling asleep. always twice, no more no less," percy started ranting, borderline unprompted.

your smile was impossibly large

"you seem to really like her," sally managed to get in

"i...i think i love her, mom. i don't see myself doing it with anybody else."

"doing what?"

"life."

now you were crying, huge fat tears rolling down your cheeks. but still smiling, always smiling because of that boy.

not wanting to ruin the moment, you head back to the living room, paul looking up at you slightly worried.

"they're okay."

"are you?" he whispers and you beam at him.

"better than ever. i'm a very lucky girl."

"i know that feeling," paul winks, "those jacksons, huh?"

"tell me about it."

𝜗𝜚 jason grace

"that your girl?" you hear a guy ask jason, surely nodding over at you standing in line for the pizza

jason promised you a day of just roaming new rome (im funny as shit yall) and you guys were just stopping for lunch

"yeah," jason replied with a smile, his eyes catching yours for a second before you looked away, not wanting to give away that you were listening.

"figured. you've got that lovey dovey look on your face," the guy laughs and jason laughs with him.

"well, that tends to happen when you're in love," responds jason, like this wasn't a monumental statement to make

"i gotta ask, what's it feel like? so i can know when the right girl comes around," the guy questions, suddenly serious and nearly desperate for an answer

jason's face screws up in the way that tells you he's thinking intensely about it.

"when you know, you'll know. i can't- there's this weight on my chest when i'm with her, it's heavy and suffocating but it's just how much i love her. it's all the things i would do for her, to keep her safe and to keep her happy. my soul knew she was the one from the moment we met, my mind's just playing catch up," jason rambled, the guy completely entrapped in his words.

"jesus," he muttered and jason winced, the roman demigod in him urging to correct him but swallowing it down.

"sounds like hell," the guy mutters after a few seconds and jason smirks

"oh, it is. my wallet's never been lighter and my sweaters have never disappeared at a more rapid rate. but, to have and to hold her in return? makes it all worth it."

"jase, baby, you want the one with feta, right?" you call to him from line, a proud smile on your face and what jason could have sworn were tears in your eyes

"yeah, that's good!" he called back, silently asking if you were alright with his eyes.

you wave him off and wipe at your cheeks, a totally completely unrelated thing.

you take the two flimsy paper plates and walk back to jason, mimicking a trumpet as you present his to him

he laughs, taking it from your hand and wrapping an arm around your waist, leading you away and down the street before pausing, looking down at you with a small smile

"you heard every word, didn't you?"

"i don't know what your talking about...but on an unrelated note, i think we should get married."

"right now?"

"why wait? i think my mind's catching up to my soul, don't you?"

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #jason grace #leo valdez #luke castellan #frank zhang #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang x reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x reader #jason grace x reader

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

family

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You and Joel have some news to share with Sarah.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) pregnancy, small age gap (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 35). fluff, fluff, fluff, Joel and Sarah being the most adorable father daughter duo.

word count: 3.3k

a/n:this is my response to this request right here; a huge thank you to whoever sent this one in!

You let out a small, tired sigh and wiped the back of your hand across your forehead. The early afternoon lunch rush at Moe’s Diner had just ended and you were exhausted beyond belief. Moe’s was one of the more popular locally owned joints in Austin, Texas, and while having a lot of customers coming into the establishment meant earning heftier tips and of course, a bigger paycheck, there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but wish that you could have at least one slow day, just one single day of the week where you weren’t waiting about a dozen tables all at once.

The moment you dropped the last stack of used plates into the plastic gray bin for Hugo, the dishwasher, to come and collect, you washed your hands thoroughly with soap and warm water and then made your way over to the old, electronic cash register behind the main counter to punch in the tips you’d earned after the rush; an hour’s worth of working and you had already made about a hundred bucks to take home at the end of your shift. As you finished logging your earnings, you could feel a pair of eyes watching you from a distance. You didn’t even need to look up to see that it was Joel. He had made something of a habit of coming to join you on his lunch hour. He’d been working longer and longer days lately, and if his only chance to spend time with you was during his lunch break, then that is exactly what he was going to do.

You tossed your receipt into the register and closed it up, turning to your coworker, Melinda. “Alright. All the tables have been cashed out, cleared, and wiped down,” You informed her, sticking your own copy of the receipt for your tips into the crisp, white apron of your uniform. “Mind if I go and take a break now?”

“Go right ahead. Don’t want to keep lover boy over there waiting for too long,” Melinda responded with a teasing wink.

“Oh, shut up,” You snipped at her, although the smile was evident in your tone of voice. You turned around and quickly poured two cups of coffee, a regular for Joel and a decaffeinated roast for yourself. Last week during your doctor’s appointment, your obstetrician reassured you that it would be a while before you really had to start easing up on the amount of caffeine you put into your body, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to start weaning yourself off of it while you were still in the earlier stages of pregnancy. Better to deal with the withdrawals sooner rather than later. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to help you with the next rush,” You told Melinda over your shoulder. You took the two cups in your hands and walked over towards one of the booths in the far corner of the fifties themed restaurant where Joel had chosen to sit today. You set his cup of coffee down in front of him and kissed his cheek lightly before sliding into the booth across from him. “I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. Two for one lunch special brought in a lot more people than Moe had anticipated.” You rolled your eyes, gently shaking your head. “He understaffed us. Again.”

Joel frowned as he noted, “I can tell. You look exhausted.”

“Which is basically code for, you look like shit, isn’t it?” You asked him teasingly.

“S’not what I meant and you know it,” he replied, rolling his eyes at you as he took a careful sip of his coffee. “You shouldn’t be workin’ so damn hard, y’know. S’not good for you to strain yourself, not in your condition.”

“In my condition,” You mimicked him with an amused little chuckle. It earned you a stern glare. “Oh come on, Joel. I’m only about six weeks along.” You shrugged your shoulders and then leaned back into the seat of the booth. “Come back to me with that bullshit when I’m in my third trimester and waddling around this place.”

Joel snorted. “Well, I’m hopin’ that by that time, you won’t be workin’ at all.”

Your playful smile faded slightly from your face. “What are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms stubbornly over your chest. It baffled you that he would even suggest such a thing. “We have a baby on the way. That means that I have to work, Joel. I have to work for as long as I possibly can before it comes. And then after a couple months of maternity leave, I’m going to have to come back and work some more.”

“Wait a minute, what about school?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you. “How exactly do you plan to juggle studyin’ while workin’ and bein’ a mom too?”

Stumped on how to answer him without upsetting him, you remained quiet and chewed nervously on your bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t exactly told him yet, but the reality was that you knew it would be tough to handle all three and there was a pretty good chance that your teaching degree would have to be put on the back burner for an indefinite amount of time.

“You’re not givin’ up on that degree,” Joel asserted, as if he had read your thoughts. “No way in hell, I won’t let you. You only have one year left,” he reminded you firmly. “Look, business has been boomin’ on my end of things. If it stays that way, I can get you out of this place. Let you focus on bein’ a mom and gettin’ your teachin’ credential.”

You bit back a sigh. “Joel, it’s a bit too early to even be talking about all of this, don’t you think?” You said after a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the conversation. “There’s no need to worry about that stuff yet.” Noticing the exasperated expression on his face, you outstretched your arm across the able and held out your hand. “I’m serious, Joel. I don’t want you to worry about it, not right now.”

He smiled warily as he took your hand in his. He leaned over and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “Look, I know it’s early,” he acknowledged. “But I’m just plannin’ ahead.” He paused long enough to press another kiss onto your hand. “I just wanna take care of you, darlin’. That’s all.”

“I know you do,” You replied softly, squeezing his hand. You could see Melinda over behind the counter tapping the invisible watch around her wrist as if to tell you that your time was running out. “What time do you have to be back at the job site?”

Joel glanced down at his watch, but it was useless. The damn thing had stopped working once again, and yet he refused to take it to get repaired. “Probably have to start headin’ back soon, actually,” he realized, the disappointment present in his tone. He hadn’t gotten nearly as much time with you as he would have liked. “Oh, I forgot to mention. Tommy said he’s not gonna be home for dinner tonight,” he informed you. “Said he’s spendin’ the night with a buddy, but we both know what that means.”

You giggled. “Another blonde he met at the bar, huh?”

“Yeah, sounds ‘bout right.” Joel laughed and rolled his eyes. “But anyway, I was thinkin’ that tonight might be the night to finally tell Sarah, seein’ as it’ll just be the three of us. What do you think, baby?”

You squeezed his hand again. “I’m kind of nervous, Joel. About telling her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Joel wasn’t nervous for Sarah’s reaction because he’d thought she would feel negatively about the baby or about you. Rather, he knew his teenager would be horrified thinking about how this blessed miracle came to be seeing as he’d signed a permission slip for her to learn all about the birds and the bees in health class at school last semester. At thirteen, Sarah was in that one stage where anything that Joel did embarrassed her—or grossed her out.

And this would certainly gross her out.

“Jesus, here comes round two of the rush,” You muttered, watching three large parties of people walk into the diner. Reluctantly, you released Joel’s hand. “I should go and help Melinda. Besides, you really need to get back to work before you’re late.”

Both you and Joel slid out of the booth and stood up. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest in one of those tight, warm hugs that you’d grown to adore over the last couple of years. “I’ll be home on time for dinner tonight,” he promised you. “If you need anythin’ while I’m at work, you let me know, alright?”

You chuckled. “Yes, Joel.”

He let go of you and stood back, his eyes meeting yours. “I’m serious. You need anythin’ at all, you call me, alright? My phone will be in my pocket.”

“I’ll be fine, Joel,” You insisted, shaking your head as you laughed. “Now go on, get going before your boss chews you out for being late.”

“I am my boss, darlin’.” He grinned boyishly at you before pressing his lips lightly against yours, murmuring gently against them. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Ugh, this is too good.” Sarah let out a small groan of satisfaction as she took another bite of her spaghetti. She turned to you a minute later, dabbing at her mouth with her paper napkin before telling you, “Have I told you that it’s my favorite? Because it’s my favorite and I simply must give my compliments to the chef.”

You lifted your chin slightly, feeling pleased with yourself. “Thank you.”

Joel pouted, feigning offense. “Now wait a damn minute, I thought the spaghetti that I made you was your favorite?”

“Dad, you use the jarred crap,” Sarah reminded him. “Her sauce is homemade. She actually makes it from scratch, like you’re supposed to.” She pointed her fork at him. “Your spaghetti is just one step above Chef Boyardee. And that’s being generous.”

Joel picked a crouton from the salad bowl in the middle of the table and flicked it at her. “Turd.”

“Bigger turd,” she shot back at him with a tiny giggle as she picked up the crouton and popped it into her mouth.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” You chuckled, waving a hand. “Settle down you two or I’ll put you both in timeout.”

“Y’see what you do? Gettin’ us in trouble,” Joel joked before biting into a slice of garlic bread.

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him. “You started it.”

You giggled, shaking your head.

You adored the dynamic between the two, although there were times when it could be a bit much. Somehow, you seemed to bring a bit of balance to it all—you had become the calm, level headed presence if and when Sarah and Joel’s antics ever went overboard.

You wouldn’t have it any other way, of course.

Although Joel had been seeing you for about two or so years now, he hadn’t introduced you to Sarah until six months into the relationship. You hadn’t been offended by that in the slightest—you knew that he’d done his fair share of dating around before you came along, and he had made the sore mistake of introducing his young, impressionable daughter to a large number of different women who, in the end, never stuck around. Not wanting to cause any further confusion or strife for Sarah, Joel vowed never to bring another woman into his daughter’s life again, not unless he was absolutely certain it was someone who would actually stay.

That woman turned out to be you.

Joel had met you when he and his younger brother, Tommy, walked into Moe’s one afternoon for lunch. Tommy set his sights on you first, flirting up a storm, but it was Joel who you’d connected with. Joel ended up visiting the diner several times after that, going in for a cup of coffee at least every other day until he’d finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date. That one date turned into two, two turned into three, and by date number six, you two had completely fallen for each other. Joel realized early on that you were the real deal, but nevertheless, he still chose to wait to introduce you to his then eleven year old.

When the time to meet Sarah finally came, you’d been so nervous; you were in love with Joel, but you knew that if his daughter didn’t like you, it could all come crashing down. Your first interaction with Sarah had been a little awkward, but as you got to know each other, things slowly started to shift in the right direction. The more time you’d started spending around her—with her—the closer you two became and your bond eventually flourished.

A few months later, you moved in with her, Joel, and Tommy.

“It’s going to be so nice having another girl around here,” Sarah had told you excitedly while helping you unpack a box of your things in Joel’s bedroom. “There’s way too much testosterone around here.”

The two of you had become inseparable.

Joel often liked to joke that she liked you more than she liked him.

He wasn’t totally wrong about that.

All you could do was hope that the news of the baby wouldn’t change how Sarah felt about you. You loved Joel, of course, but you’d grown to love Sarah too. They were your family.

The timer that you’d set on the oven started beeping loudly, pulling you from your train of thoughts. “Those would be the cupcakes that I made for dessert.”

“Chocolate?” Sarah asked you with shining, hopeful eyes.

“Of course. What other flavor is there?” You winked as you stood up from your chair.

She punched the air lightly. “Yes! Can I help you frost them?”

“As soon as they cool down,” You promised, touching her shoulder lightly as you walked by her and off into the kitchen.

“Tonight just keeps getting better and better,” Sarah sighed contentedly, picking up her fork.

Joel watched her for a moment in silence, a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said after minute or two, garnering Sarah’s attention. “You really like her, don’t you, kiddo?”

“Of course! She’s got to be like, the coolest person ever,” Sarah remarked in between more bites of her pasta. “What’s not to like? She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s fun to talk to,” she started ticking things off her list. “She has amazing taste in movies and music. Oh, and she lets me borrow her clothes.”

He laughed, suddenly realizing that the Red Hot Chili Peppers band tee shirt she was wearing actually belonged to you. “You’re askin’ for her permission to wear her stuff, right?”

Sarah batted her eyelashes innocently at him. “She said that I didn’t have to ask. In fact, she said I could just help myself to her side of the closet whenever I wanted.”

Joel tossed another crouton at her. “I don’t care what she said, it’s still polite to ask, missy.”

“I’m just kidding, dad! Jeez,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course I ask her. You didn’t raise a heathen.”

Joel snorted lightly and leaned back into his chair. “Sometimes I ain’t so sure about that, babygirl.”

After a minute, Sarah’s eyes met his across the table. “Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“You like her a lot too, don’t you?”

“A hell of a lot,” he answered, honestly. “You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like her.”

“Me either,” Sarah admitted. “But I’m really glad that you did.” She paused, offering him a tiny, but genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy, you know?”

Joel’s heart warmed inside of his chest. He lightly kicked her foot underneath the table with his. “Look at you being a big ol’ pile of sentimental goo.”

“And this is exactly why I don’t ever say anything,” Sarah huffed, but she giggled. “You always ruin it.”

“Always ruin what?” You asked as you walked back out of the kitchen. You took your seat and picked up your glass of iced tea looking between the two. “What did I miss?”

“Oh nothing, my dad is just being annoying, as always,” Sarah kidded before she began to polish off the remainder of her dinner.

A long, but comfortable silence fell over the table.

You glanced over at Joel, wondering when it would be time. His gaze met yours and he raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking you if you were ready. Although you weren’t, you gave him a subtle nod.

Joel cleared his throat. “Sarah?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s somethin’ that we want to tell you,” he began to say, earning himself a puzzled look from his daughter. He hesitated, as if trying to figure out the best way to just spit it out. “We’ve been wantin’ to tell you this for a couple of weeks now, but we wanted to find the right moment and well, I think this is it—we’re havin’ a baby.”

Sarah’s fork clinked loudly against her plate as she dropped it in surprise. “What?” she gasped, her wide eyes flicking to you. “Are you freaking serious?”

You nodded, wondering if that was a good reaction or a bad one. You couldn’t quite tell just yet. “I’m having a baby,” you confirmed, lifting a hand and running it nervously through your hair.

Sarah stared at you, her eyes still wide and what looked like a smile threatening to break out across her face. “Swear it?”

You exhaled a breath of relief. “Swear it. I’m six weeks right now.”

Letting out a little squeal, she jumped up from her chair and ran over to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders. “I can’t believe this!” She squeezed you tightly—a little too tightly. “Do you know what it is yet? When will you know? Can we start looking at baby stuff this weekend? Can we buy it clothes already?”

“Sarah, breathe.” Joel shook his head, although he was grinning from ear to ear. “And more importantly, let her breathe.”

“Shut up, Joel. She’s fine,” You waved a hand dismissively at him as you wrapped your arms around her, hugging her back. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sarah exclaimed as she pulled away. “This is the best news ever! I’ve been all by myself for so long!”

“Hey, what are we? Chopped liver?” Joel threw his hands up and then brought them back down onto his lap.

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Sarah shrugged. “Well, it’s just been me all these years, dad. But now I get to have a little brother or sister.” She paused and glanced at you. “Is it wrong to say that I really, really hope it’s a girl?”

“Then it would be three against one,” Joel realized, the color draining from his face slightly. “Jesus Christ, I really hope it’s a boy.”

“You have Uncle Tommy.”

“He doesn’t count.”

“Joel!” You snapped at him, causing Sarah to throw her head back and laugh. “Don’t say that.”

“The score is even,” Sarah stated. She pointed a finger at him as she walked back to her chair and sat down. “Two boys, two girls. The baby will be the tie breaker. When will find out what it is?”

“In a few more weeks,” You responded, chuckling at the way her face fell. “Trust me, they’ll go by faster than you think.”

“I can’t wait!” Sarah beamed brightly, looking between the two of you. “Oh man, this is awesome.”

Joel tilted his head curiously at her. “Yeah? You happy, babygirl?”

“I get to have a family,” she murmured, her hand resting lightly on her chest. “A real family, like the ones you see on TV or in the movies." She looked at him, her eyes twinkling brightly. “Happy doesn’t even cover it, dad.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller hbo

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milaisreading · 2 months

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How about a Valentine's day story in a Blue Lock x Japan U20 match with manager y/n? Like while in the match and the breaks y/n gets lots of chocholate, flowers or gifts from the male fans which causes the players to be jealous and also some of the fans go even far as kissing y/n hand like a gentleman. The players had no idea that y/n made chocholate for both of the teams. She is kinda shy and scared to give them because she thought the boys wouldn't like the taste of the chocholate, the shapes of the chocholates or the color of the packets.

🩷🌱: Happy Valentine's Day, anon! This was such a cute idea, I hope you like what I wrote! Thanks for the request!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

"Oh, damn. There are a lot of people here today!" (Y/n) gasped in surprise as she looked at the stadium that was more packed than on the previous match. Today, the JFA had organized a special match between the U-20 and Blue lock. It was nothing serious, and more meant as an entertainment program for Valentine's Day. The board members of the JFA thought it would be a good idea to organize the event as a cash grab for the holiday,which (Y/n) had to admit was a good idea. The ratings and money from the merch shops will definitely give them extra money.

'Greedy bastards.' She thought while side-eyeing the board members while she stood next to Anri and Ego.

"(Y/n), what's with that bag you brought?" Ego questioned as the boys were warming up. (Y/n), confused for a moment, looked at the item and then blushed in embarrassment while scrambling for words.

"I... I made some chocolate for the players of both teams." She whispered to the adults, which caused Anri to squeal at the cuteness.

"That's adorable! When are you giving it to them, though?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I... I don't know. I am a little embarrassed about the possible attention I might get from them... If only I could somehow avoid it." Anri and Ego kept quiet for a moment as they thought of a way to help her. Well, it was more Anri who did the thinking while Ego was busy monitoring the interaction between Rin, Sae, and Shidou.

"Ah! I know what we can do!"

"You do?" (Y/n) raised an eyebrow as Anri happily nodded her head.

"How about you anonymously leave the chocolate in their locker rooms while they are on the field. We should go there once the game starts." Anri suggested, which made (Y/n) smile at the idea.

"Sounds great! Is that ok with you, Ego-san?"

The said man thought the whole idea was stupid, and he wanted to say so, but once he saw the two give him puppy eyes, he sighed and nodded his head.

"Fine. I will just inform the other coach that you will be going into their locker room. Don't be gone for too long." The man said as the two cheered and thanked him.

"Keep it down-"

"Uhm, is someone named (L/N) (Y/n) here?" One of the maintenence staff members asked as he approached the trio.

"Why?" Ego asked bluntly, causing (Y/n) and Anri to facepalm.

"There are some fans who want to see her." The man answered as (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

"I am her. But, what do you mean by fans?" She asked the man, and Anri and Ego looked back with the same amount of curiosity.

After explaining it to them, (Y/n) followed the older man to the field where some people were. To be fair, they weren't om the field, but on the stands close to it.

'Good God...' The girl gulped as she saw some guys and a few girls looking back at her in excitement while holding some gifts, she assumed at least.

"Don't take too long." The man warned as (Y/n) nodded her head.

"H-hi. How can I help?" (Y/n) wondered as the group smiled, holding out some gifts to her.

"Hello! I brought you these flowers-"

"Happy Valentine's Day! Please be my-"

"You look very cute today! Hope you like this chocolate! It's handmade-"

"I found these flowers! Heard you liked them-"

"Take mine instead!"

"My chocolate is way better!"

"I got you this plush toy!"

(Y/n) watched in shock and confusion as the group showed the various gifts that were meant for her by the sounds of it.

'Why... why are they giving those to me? I am not a player.' (Y/n) thought as she slowly approached the group, not wanting to be rude or anything.

"Th-thank you. You all shouldn't have brought me anything. I am really honored." The group stopped arguing as they watched the manager bow and smile at them.

'So respectful!'

'She looks so cute!' The group thought as they started arguing who will be the first one to give her a gift.

'Ahh... I hope nobody sees this mess. I don't want the attention to be diverted from the players. It's their day.' (Y/n) thought as she went to take the items, thanking everyone individually.

Meanwhile, what (Y/n) didn't notice was the players had already noticed the ruckus that was going on, and they were less than pleased.

"Who are those losers now?" Sae raised an eyebrow, not liking what he wa seeing. The same could go for Rin, who was silently growling as he saw (Y/n) accept those gifts, even going as far as smiling at the people.

'That's my manager. Don't get so comfortable with her.' He thought as Shidou was for once not sporting his usual cocky smile.

'Now, why is she paying attention to those nobodies?'

Aiku was about to speak up, but the 4 froze up when they saw one of the guys take (Y/n)'s hand into theirs and planting a kiss on it.

"Ok, that's about it. I have had enough." Aiku cleared his throat as he walked over to where (Y/n) was, the trip following close by as the rest of thebtwo teams glared daggers at the boy.

While that was going on, (Y/n) was getting more and more uncomfortable with the attention and tried to cut this gift giving short.

'Why did they even give these to me?' She still wondered, unaware of the 4 players approaching her.

"T-thank you again for the gifts. But, I really need to go now-"

"Can't you stay a little longer?"

"Yeah, the game didn't start yet."

The group protested as (Y/n) tried to find a way out. The gifts were too much for her to hold for so long.

"I'm-" She started speaking, but got interrupted by the familiar monotone voice Sae had.

"Having fun? Good, fun is over." (Y/n), surprised by his appearance turned around to scold hin for the rude tone.

"Don't be so rude, Sae-" But, she pretty much cut herself off when she saw the murderous looks Rin, Sae, Shidou, and Oliver were giving the group.

'What's up with them?!'

The game had eventually started after a good 30 minutes and Anri meanwhile dragged (Y/n) away to put the chocolates into the locker rooms. The chocolates were pretty simple. Milk chocolate with a few decorations, all wrapped up in colors that reminded her of the boys. It was pretty cliché in her opinion, but she hoped they would like them and not suspect her as the culprit.

'I really tried to make them look as different as possible.' (Y/n) thought as she put the last one into Neru's jacket pocket, blushing at the thought of them discovering her.

'That would be something I could never live down.'

The game had ended with the Blue Lock team winning after the time got extended to a whole 105 minutes, (Y/n), Anri, and Ego could see the team was exhausted, so they told them to take their time in changing and showering. Meanwhile, the trio would take care of the press or the gifts the Blue Lock team was receiving, which was something (Y/n) ended up taking care of.

'All these gifts look so much better than mine...' She thought, trying not to look sad as she wrote down what was for who. She didn't need fans going after her or spreading rumors.

'Well, at least I hope they taste good.' (Y/n) thought nervously as she took another gift, wondering if they found the chocolates by now.

Blue lock room 💙⛓️

"Hm? There is something in our pockets?" Otoya wondered as Anri giggled while closing the door.

"Yep! (Y/n) made some Valentine's chocolate for you guys! Don't say I told you, tho!" With that, the woman left the teens in a shocked state. That soon disappeared as they quickly looked through their pockets, and sure enough, the chocolates were there. All neatly wrapped.

"Woo-hoo! This is like the first time I got one! She even wrapped it in my favorite color!" Bachira cheered as he looked at the yellow wrapped item. Otoya quickly unwrapped his and took a bite.

"It's so good!" He cheered.

'Ahh! I can die now happily! Wait, is this (Y/n)'s way of confessing?!' Otoya thought as Karasu and Kurona took a bite from their's as well.

"It tastes the right amount of sweet. The decorations look adorable as well." Karasu chuckled while blushing.

"Just like her..." Kurona silently said as he continued eating his, trying to savor the taste as long as possible. Isagi, who took the time to read the message she wrote on the chocolate blushed and smiled.

'You did an amazing job!' He read, feeling his heart beat quicken when he saw the heart at the end.

"She is the best. This tastes amazing." He mumbled, earning nods from Niko and Hiori, who were sitting next to him.

"It does! It does! The packaging are adorable, too. She really put a lot of thought into them." Hiori said in adoration.

"You think she will bake for us one day?" Niko wondered with a red face as he read the message over and over.

"I mean, we could always ask her. (Y/n) is nice, I am sure she would." Reo announced, earning nods from the rest.

"I hope it will be a chocolate cake. Didn't have those in a while. She really made my day with this." Gagamaru smiled warmly, not used to getting chocolate on Valentine's Day from anyone. Nagi kept quiet as his face was a uncharacteristic red shade. The whole time he was staring at the wrapping paper while taking small bites of the chocolate.

'I am keeping this one forever.'

Barou was a blushing mess along with Tokimitsu, so they decided not to say anything as they ate their chocolates. Both were flattered and happy over this surprise. It was better than winning the match in their opinion.

"It has a really good taste to it. Not too sweet and not too bitter. She really thought of everything. So cute." Yukimiya smiled brightly, earning a nod from Aryu.

"Well, it is (Y/n) we are talking about. She is amazing and thoughtful." The brown-haired boy added in. Rin was looking for once relaxed and felt happy as he ate his piece, enjoying every moment of it.

'So good. Definitely better than winning against my brother. I love her so much.' Rin thought, his face turning redder. There was a silence in the room for a while, the team busy eating and thanking (Y/n) mentally for the gift. But, that silence was soon cut off by Chigiri.

"Now, we need to think of some good presents for White Day. Some that will make her forget about the gifts those people gave her today."

The rest of the team quickly nodded their heads.

The U-20 room 🇯🇵2️⃣0️⃣

"Huh?" Shidou hummed as he felt an unfamiliar item in his pocket and quickly fished it out, only to freeze up when he saw what it was. It was a neatly wrapped pink present, and by the shape of it, it was definitely chocolate.

"What is it, Shidou?" Teru asked, noticing the boy's frozen state.

"I got chocolate." The boy answered in confusion as he showed Teru the item, causing the rest of the locker room to look at him.

"You?! Why did you get chocolate?" Sendou yelled out, jealous at the blonde, which earned him a grin from Shidou.

"Probably because the ladies like me more."

"Hm? I got some as well." Sae pointed out as he showed the the team his burgundy wrapped item.

"Ha? And you two didn't put it in there yourselves?" Niou asked skeptically.

"Why would I do such a pathetic thing?" Sae questioned.

"You guys mad that you didn't get any?" Shidou snickered, earning glared from Sendou and Niou now.

"Hey! I got some as well! This is rare for me!" Neru said in excitement as he found a beige wrapped item in his pocket. Now this was a surprise for the rest.

"You as well?" Itsuki and Miroku mumbled as they discretely went through their pockets, only to find chocolate int them as well.

"Hey! I got some as well!"

"Me too!"

"This is weird..." Hayate said silently, blushing as he stared at his present as well.

"Woo-hoo! Hey! I got chocolate as well!!" Sendou blushed in excitement as he took put the present from his jacket pocket. Oliver, who also found a green and purple wrapped present, stared at it in confusion as Teru started eating his chocolate.

"It tastes good as well! It also has some cute decorations on it."

"Mhm!" Niou nodded as he ate his along with Hayate and Neru.

"But still, who put it into our pockets?" Sae asked out loud, earning silence instead of an answer.

"It certainly is weird. We didn't notice anyone near our stuff." Miroku chimed in as their coach walked into the room.

"Ah, I see you found those chocolates. Eat up and let's go." The team stared at the man in horror for a moment as Oliver spoke up.

"Please don't tell me you put these into our locker room."

"Yuck!" Shidou shivered at the idea, earning a glare from the coach.

"No, I have better things to do then make Valentine's Day chocolate." The man rolled his eyes.

"Blue Lock's manager made those for you, as surprise or something. She put those here while you guys were playing. Now, stop acting like school boys and pack your stuff." The man ordered as he walked out of the room, leaving the team in a stunned silence.

'The... The manager...made these for us?!' The team thought as they slowly started blushing at the thought.

"Aahhh~" they sighed happily as Sendou spoke up.

"Lucky bastards at Blue Lock probably get this treatment all the time." He said, sounding jealous as the rest tried to ignore that thought, opting to just enjoy the sweet gifts.

"Achoo!" (Y/n) sneezed as Ego looked at her in confusion.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. I think I am just getting sick." She said back, oblivious to what had happened in the locker rooms.

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angelbarelywrites · 1 month

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting

info;

♡ fandoms; The Boy, House of Wax, Halloween, Hannibal, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, slashers (general), DBD

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Micheal Myers, Hannibal Lecter, Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; mentions of blood/violence

The most random array of characters. All 5 are my bfs tho. Also this is written very very informally because it was originally just for myself lol.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire//

> approximateplotofthe movie. jpeg

> honestly you mind your own business once you realize it’s a doll but assume there’s cameras so mostly behave

> you find yourself naturally coddling his doll like a real child when you’re bored, speaking to him constantly

> even though you’re not doing much to upset him, weird things do start happening around the house

> he mostly wants attention

> you leave a note one day

> “dear brahm’s ghost; i’m sorry if i’m not doing a good job as a nanny. i’m really trying my best. I hope we can be friends”

> he scribbles a smiley face on it and you’re a little freaked out / excited

> when he finally shows himself you’re really stunned. but it makes more sense than a genuine ghost

> you’re in such shock that you just. keep going with the evening and make dinner.

> but even once you come to your senses, you end up more sad than scared

> “…they left you all alone. I’m so sorry.”

> he gives you puppy eyes

> “…I won’t do that to you. I promise. I’m staying.”

> he’s even more in love with you than he first thought. even if you’re going to make him shower six times before bed.

> to his chagrin you don’t help him bathe

> but you do kiss him goodnight

Vincent Sinclair//

> bo brings you to him

> at first he’s making some big deal, “special delivery” and all that

> you’re cute

> really cute

> and bo clearly knew you’re the kind of person vincent would like

> but he’s still got a job to do

> damn it

> “h-hey- wait- i can help you—?”

> that makes him hesitate

> “i’m an artist too. i can help with the sculptures. “

> …

>“i’ll be good. promise.”

> he didn’t need much more convincing than that

> bo is surprised he kept you but makes damn sure you’re not escaping

> but you don’t even try because you just feel so deeply for vincent, and he’s so gentle

> you weren’t lying about being an artist so you’re genuinely helpful

> he falls madly in love when you help him resculpt his mask

Micheal Myers //

> Meet because you wrote letters to him

> Not to interview him or as an obsessive fan

> At first out of curiosity, then as a sort of way to vent, because he never responds

> But as it turns out your letters are the only ones he keeps or even opens at this point

> So his psychologist wants you to meet him to see if you can get him to open up- of course there’s a cash incentive

> He doesn’t say a word from the other side of the glass.

> Obviously.

> But you treat it like a normal visit to a friend and just chat mindlessly a while

> And you’re so much tinier and cuter in person

> He wants to stab you so much

> But realizes that if he killed you, he might miss you

> Ew that’s a scary thought

> Still wants to make you scream tho uwu

> He escapes

> Because he’s Micheal Myers that’s what he does

> After his spree he finds himself in your house, bloodsoaked and honestly not all that sure what he’ll do when he sees you

> You don’t even scream, just give a tiny ‘eep’

> “…Micheal?”

> He regrips his knife so he can get it over with. You’ll just tattle

> “Oh gosh- you’re soaked from the rain. And all that blood-let’s get you a shower? I can get you some fresh clothes too,”

> He’s staring down at you in disbelief

> “…what? You thought I’d try and call the cops? I like talking to you.”

> There’s something very wrong with you

> It’s kind of hot

> He puts him knife away and follows you

Hannibal Lecter//

> you’re his patient lol

> at first he doesn’t have much interest in you outside of work

> but god, you’d be such a perfect subject to manipulate with that little authority figure problem you have

> and even though you’re young

> you do recognize some of the finer things in life

> mostly his artwork and cooking. you’re really good at inadvertently stroking his ego

> he starts diving into darker subjects in therapy

> you’re a bit of a morbid person under the sunshine-y exterior

> perfect

> he’s still chipping away at something big you’re keeping from him

> he could do some digging online and through your files but where’s the fun in that

> he gets you tipsy and then starts with the psycho babble

> you finally crack

> you killed some guy that was stalking you years ago

> god that’s hot

> you liked it, at least a little bit

> even hotter

> you licked the blood off your hands and it tasted good

> he’s in love ; good luck leaving

Thomas Hewitt //

> car trouble! it’s always car trouble

> honestly when you rock up to the gas station alone Luda Mae is thinking that it’s a shame the fridge at home is already full

> but you’re the sweetest little customer

> “your name is really pretty ma’am. ever since i was little i decided if i had a daughter, her name would be Audrey Mae”

> new plan, she’s playing matchmaker

> there’s just something about you that’s so gentle

> and mildly off-putting, like the rest of the family

> she brings you out to the farm to see if they have the car parts you need

> and to stay the night, if you really need to

> you run smack dab into Thomas in his old half mask walking in- even Luda expects you to recoil at the least

> instead you turn a bit pink

> “oh gosh- I’m so so sorry sir-“

> Thomas stares at you

> You just shyly introduce yourself, talking enough for both of you

> Luda Mae is already planning the wedding

> “That’s my youngest Tommy- why don’t you show em around? Alright baby?”

> Thomas is a bit hesitant but you’re so little and cute and smell so good—

> He’s already obsessed oops

664 notes · View notes

turnstileskyline · 4 months

Text

The Oral History of Take This To Your Grave – transcription under the cut

The pages that are just photographs, I haven't included. This post is already long enough.

Things that happened in 2003: Arnold Schwarzenegger became governor of California. Teen Vogue published its first issue. The world lost Johnny Cash. Johnny Depp appeared as Captain Jack Sparrow for the first time. A third Lord of the Rings movie arrived. Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, and Andy Hurley released Take This To Your Grave.

"About 21 years ago or so, as I was applying to colleges I would ultimately never go to, Fall Out Boy began as a little pop-punk side project of what we assumed was Pete's more serious band, Arma Angelus," Patrick wrote in a May 2023 social media post.

"We were sloppy and couldn't solidify a lineup, but the three of us (Pete, Joe, and I) were having way too much fun to give up on it."

"We were really rough around the edges. As an example of how rough, one of my favorite teachers pulled me aside after hearing the recording that would eventually become Evening Out With Your Girlfriend and tactfully said, 'What do you think your best instrument is, Patrick? Drums. It's drums. Probably not singing, Patrick.'"

"We went into Smart Studios with the Sean O'Keefe... So, there we were, 3/5 of a band with a singer who'd only been singing a year, no drummer, and one out of two guitarists. But we had the opportunity to record with Sean at Butch Vig's legendary studio.

"Eight or so months later, Fueled by Ramen would give us a contract to record the remaining songs. We'd sleep on floors, eat nothing but peanut butter and jelly, live in a van for the next three years, and somehow despite that, eventually play with Elton John and Taylor Swift and Jay-Z and for President Obama and the NFC championship, and all these other wildly unpredictable things. But none of that would ever come close to happening if Andy hadn't made it to the session and Joe hadn't dragged us kicking and screaming into being a band."

Two decades after its release, Take This To Your Grave sits comfortable in the Top 10 of Rolling Stone's 50 Greatest Pop-Punk Albums, edging out landmark records from Buzzcocks, Generation X, Green Day, The Offspring, Blink-182, and The Ramones.

It even ranked higher than Through Being Cool by Saves The Day and Jersey's Best Dancers from Lifetime, two records the guys in Fall Out Boy particularly revere.

Fall Out Boy's proper full-length debut on Fueled by Ramen is a deceptively smart, sugar-sweet, raw, energetic masterpiece owing as much to the bass player's pop culture passions, the singers deep love of R&B and soul, and their shared history in the hardcore scene as any pioneering punk band. Fall Out Boy's creative and commercial heights were still ahead, but Take This To Your Grave kicked it off, a harbinger for the enduring songwriting partnership between Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz, the eclectic contributions from Joe Trohman, and the propulsive powerhouse that is Andy Hurley.

The recordings document a special moment when Fall Out Boy was big in "the scene" but a "secret" from the mainstream. The band (and some of their friends) first sat down for an Oral History (which doubled as an Oral History of their origin story) with their old friend Ryan J. Downey, then Senior Editor for Alternative Press, upon the occasion of the album's 10th anniversary. What follows is an updated, sharper, and expanded version of that story, newly re-edited in 2023. As Patrick eloquently said: "Happy 20th birthday, Take This To Your Grave, you weird brilliant lightning strike accident of a record."

– Ryan J. Downey.

A Weird, Brilliant Lightning Strike Of A Record. The Oral History Of Fall Out Boy's Take This To Your Grave.

As told by:

Patrick Stump

Pete Wentz

Joe Trohman

Andy Hurley

Bob McLynn - Crush Music

Sean O'Keefe - Producer/Mixer

John Janick - Fueled By Ramen

Tim McIlrath - Rise Against

Mani Mostofi - Racetraitor

Chris Gutierrez - Arma Angelus

Mark Rose - Spitalfield

Sean Muttaqi - Uprising Records

Rory Felton - The Militia Group

Richard Reines - Drive-Thru Records

"To Feel No More Bitterness Forever" - From Hardcore to Softcore, 1998-2000

PETE WENTZ: When I got into hardcore, it was about discovering the world beyond yourself. There was a culture of trying to be a better person. That was part of what was so alluring about hardcore and punk for me. But for whatever reason, it shifted. Maybe this was just in Chicago, but it became less about the thought process behind it and more about moshing and breakdowns. There was a close-mindedness that felt very reactive.

TIM MCILRITH: I saw First Born many years ago, which was the first time I saw Pete and met him around then. This was '90s hardcore - p.c., vegan, activist kind of hardcore music. Pete was in many of those bands doing that kind of thing, and I was at many of those shows. The hardcore scene in Chicago was pretty small, so everyone kind of knew each other. I knew Andy Hurley as the drummer in Racetraitor. I was in a band called Baxter, so Pete always called me 'Baxter.' I was just 'Baxter' to a lot of those guys.

JOE TROHMAN: I was a young hardcore kid coming to the shows. The same way we all started doing bands. You're a shitty kid who goes to punk and hardcore shows, and you see the other bands playing, and you want to make friends with those guys because you want to play in bands too. Pete and I had a bit of a connection because we're from the same area. I was the youngest dude at most shows. I would see Extinction, Racetraitor, Burn It Down, and all the bands of that era.

WENTZ: My driver's license was suspended then, so Joe drove me everywhere. We listened to either Metalcore like Shai Hulud or pop-punk stuff like Screeching Weasel.

MCILRITH: I was in a band with Pete called Arma Angelus. I was like their fifth or sixth bass player. I wasn't doing anything musically when they hit me up to play bass, so I said, 'Of course.' I liked everyone in the band. We were rehearsing, playing a few shows here and there, with an ever-revolving cast of characters. We recorded a record together at the time. I even sing on that record, believe it or not, they gave me a vocal part. Around that same time, I began meeting with [bassist] Joe [Principe] about starting what would become Rise Against.

CHRIS GUTIERREZ: Wentz played me the Arma Angelus demo in the car. He said he wanted it to be a mix of Despair, Buried Alive, and Damnation A.D. He told me Tim was leaving to start another band - which ended up being Rise Against - and asked if I wanted to play bass.

TROHMAN: Pete asked me to fill in for a tour when I was 15. Pete had to call my dad to convince him to let me go. He did it, too. It was my first tour, in a shitty cargo van, with those dudes. They hazed the shit out of me. It was the best and worst experience. Best overall, worst at the time.

GUTIERREZ: Enthusiasm was starting to wane in Arma Angelus. Our drummer was really into cock-rock. It wasn't an ironic thing. He loved L.A. Guns, Whitesnake, and Hanoi Rocks. It drove Pete nuts because the scene was about Bleeding Through and Throwdown, not cock rock. He was frustrated that things weren't panning out for the band, and of course, there's a ceiling for how big a metalcore band can get, anyway.

MANI MOSTOFI: Pete had honed this tough guy persona, which I think was a defense mechanism. He had some volatile moments in his childhood. Underneath, he was a pretty sensitive and vulnerable person. After playing in every mosh-metal band in the Midwest and listening exclusively to Earth Crisis, Damnation A.D., Chokehold, and stuff like that for a long time, I think Pete wanted to do something fresh. He had gotten into Lifetime, Saves The Day, The Get Up Kids, and bands like that. Pete was at that moment where the softer side of him needed an outlet, and didn't want to hide behind mosh-machismo. I remember him telling me he wanted to start a band that more girls could listen to.

MCILRATH: Pete was talking about starting a pop-punk band. Bands like New Found Glory and Saves The Day were successful then. The whole pop-punk sound was accessible. Pete was just one of those guys destined for bigger things than screaming for mediocre hardcore bands in Chicago. He's a smart guy, a brilliant guy. All the endeavors he had taken on, even in the microcosm of the 1990s Chicago hardcore world, he put a lot of though into it. You could tell that if he were given a bigger receptacle to put that thought into, it could become something huge. He was always talented: lyrics, imagery, that whole thing. He was ahead of the curve. We were in this hardcore band from Chicago together, but we were both talking about endeavors beyond it.

TROHMAN: The drummer for Arma Angelus was moving. Pete and I talked about doing something different. It was just Pete and me at first. There was this thuggishness happening in the Chicago hardcore scene at that time that wasn't part of our vibe. It was cool, but it wasn't our thing.

MCILRITH: One day at Arma Angelus practice, Pete asked me, 'Are you going to do that thing with Joe?' I was like, 'Yeah, I think so.' He was like, 'You should do that, dude. Don't let this band hold you back. I'll be doing something else, too. We should be doing other things.' He was really ambitious. It was so amazing to me, too, because Pete was a guy who, at the time, was kind of learning how to play the bass. A guy who didn't really play an instrument will do down in history as one of the more brilliant musicians in Chicago. He had everything else in his corner. He knew how to do everything else. He needed to get some guys behind him because he had the rest covered. He had topics, themes, lyrics, artwork, this whole image he wanted to do, and he was uncompromising. He also tapped into something the rest of us were just waking up to: the advent of the internet. I mean, the internet wasn't new, but higher-speed internet was.

MOSTOFI: Joe was excited to be invited by Pete to do a band. Joe was the youngest in our crew by far, and Pete was the 'coolest' in a Fonzie sort of way. Joe deferred to Pete's judgement for years. But eventually, his whole life centered around bossy big-brother Pete. I think doing The Damned Things was for Joe what Fall Out Boy was for Pete, in a way. It was a way to find his own space within the group of friends. Unsurprisingly, Joe now plays a much more significant role in Fall Out Boy's music.

WENTZ: I wanted to do something easy and escapist. When Joe and I started the band, it was the worst band of all time. I feel like people said, 'Oh, yeah, you started Fall Out Boy to get big.' Dude, there was way more of a chance of every other band getting big in my head than Fall Out Boy. It was a side thing that was fun to do. Racetraitor and Extinction were big bands to me. We wanted to do pop-punk because it would be fun and hilarious. It was definitely on a lark. We weren't good. If it was an attempt at selling out, it was a very poor attempt.

MCILRITH: It was such a thing for people to move from hardcore bands to bands called 'emo' or pop-punk, as those bands were starting to get some radio play and signed to major labels. Everyone thought it was easy, but it's not as easy as that. Most guys we knew who tried it never did anything more successful than their hardcore bands. But Pete did it! And if anyone was going to, it was going to be him. He never did anything half-assed. He ended up playing bass in so many bands in Chicago, even though he could barely play the bass then, because simply putting him in your band meant you'd have a better show. He was just more into it. He knew more about dynamics, about getting a crowd to react to what you're doing than most people. Putting Pete in your band put you up a few notches.

"I'm Writing You A Chorus And Here Is Your Verse" - When Pete met Patrick, early 2001.

MARK ROSE: Patrick Stump played drums in this grindcore band called Grinding Process. They had put out a live split cassette tape.

PATRICK STUMP: My ambition always outweighed my ability or actual place in the world. I was a drummer and played in many bands and tried to finagle my way into better ones but never really managed. I was usually outgunned by the same two guys: this guy Rocky Senesce; I'm not sure if he's playing anymore, but he was amazing. And this other guy, De'Mar Hamilton, who is now in Plain White T's. We'd always go out for the same bands. I felt like I was pretty good, but then those guys just mopped the floor with me. I hadn't been playing music for a few months. I think my girlfriend dumped me. I was feeling down. I wasn't really into pop-punk or emo. I think at the time I was into Rhino Records box sets.

TROHMAN: I was at the Borders in Eden's Plaza in Wilmette, Illinois. My friend Arthur was asking me about Neurosis. Patrick just walked up and started talking to me.

STUMP: I was a bit arrogant and cocky, like a lot of young musicians. Joe was talking kind of loudly and I overheard him say something about Neurosis, and I think I came in kind of snotty, kind of correcting whatever they had said.

TROHMAN: We just started talking about music, and my buddy Arthur got shoved out of the conversation. I told him about the band we were starting. Pete was this local hardcore celebrity, which intrigued Patrick.

STUMP: I had similar conversations with any number of kids my age. This conversation didn't feel crazy special. That's one of the things that's real about [Joe and I meeting], and that's honest about it, that's it's not some 'love at first sight' thing where we started talking about music and 'Holy smokes, we're going to have the best band ever!' I had been in a lot of bands up until then. Hardcore was a couple of years away from me at that point. I was over it, but Pete was in real bands; that was interesting. Now I'm curious and I want to do this thing, or at least see what happens. Joe said they needed a drummer, guitar player, or singer, and I kind of bluffed and said I could do any one of those things for a pop-punk band. I'd had a lot of conversations about starting bands where I meet up with somebody and maybe try to figure out some songs and then we'd never see each other again. There were a lot of false starts and I assumed this would be just another one of those, but it would be fun for this one to be with the guy from Racetraitor and Extinction.

TROHMAN: He gave me the link to his MP3.com page. There were a few songs of him just playing acoustic and singing. He was awesome.

WENTZ: Joe told me we were going to this kid's house who would probably be our drummer but could also sing. He sent me a link to Patrick singing some acoustic thing, but the quality was so horrible it was hard to tell what it was. Patrick answered the door in some wild outfit. He looked like an emo kid but from the Endpoint era - dorky and cool. We went into the basement, and he was like, trying to set up his drums.

TROHMAN: Patrick has said many times that he intended to try out on drums. I was pushing for him to sing after hearing his demos. 'Hey! Sing for us!' I asked him to take out his acoustic guitar. He played songs from Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. I think he sang most of the record to us. We were thrilled. We had never been around someone who could sing like that.

WENTZ: I don't think Patrick thought we were cool at all. We were hanging out, and he started playing acoustic guitar. He started singing, and I realized he could sing any Saves The Day song. I was like, 'Wow, that's the way those bands sound! We should just have you sing.' It had to be serendipity because Patrick drumming and Joe singing is not the same band. I never thought about singing. It wasn't the type of thing I could sing. I knew I'd be playing bass. I didn't think it'd even go beyond a few practices. It didn't seem like the thing I was setting myself up to do for the next several years of my life in any way. I was going to college. It was just a fun getaway from the rest of life kind of thing to do.

STUMP: Andy was the first person we asked to play drums. Joe even brought him up in the Borders conversation. But Andy was too busy. He wasn't really interested, either, because we kind of sucked.

WENTZ: I wanted Hurley in the band, I was closest to him at the time, I had known him for a long time. I identified with him in the way that we were the younger dudes in our larger group. I tried to get him, but he was doing another band at the time, or multiple bands. He was Mani's go-to guy to play drums, always. I had asked him a few times. That should clue people into the fact that we weren't that good.

ANDY HURLEY: I knew Joe as 'Number One Fan.' We called him that because he was a huge fan of a band I was in, Kill The Slavemaster. When Fall Out Boy started, I was going to college full-time. I was in the band Project Rocket and I think The Kill Pill then, too.

MOSTOFI: After they got together the first or second time, Pete played me a recording and said, 'This is going to be big.' They had no songs, no name, no drummer. They could barely play their instruments. But Pete knew, and we believed him because we could see his drive and Patrick's potential. Patrick was prodigy. I imagine the first moment Pete heard him sing was probably like when I heard 15-year-old Andy Hurley play drums.

GUTIERREZ: One day at practice, Pete told me he had met some dudes with whom he was starting a pop-punk band. He said it would sound like a cross between New Found Glory and Lifetime. Then the more Fall Out Boy started to practice, the less active Arma Angelus became.

TROHMAN: We got hooked up with a friend named Ben Rose, who became our original drummer. We would practice in his parents' basement. We eventually wrote some pretty bad songs. I don't even have the demo. I have copies of Arma's demo, but I don't have that one.

MOSTOFI: We all knew that hardcore kids write better pop-punk songs than actual pop-punk kids. It had been proven. An experienced hardcore musician could bring a sense of aggression and urgency to the pop hooks in a way that a band like Yellowcard could never achieve. Pete and I had many conversations about this. He jokingly called it 'Softcore,' but that's precisely what it was. It's what he was going for. Take This To Your Grave sounds like Hot Topic, but it feels like CBGBs.

MCILRITH: Many hardcore guys who transitioned into pop-punk bands dumbed it down musically and lyrically. Fall Out Boy found a way to do it that wasn't dumbed down. They wrote music and lyrics that, if you listened closely, you could tell came from people who grew up into hardcore. Pete seemed to approach the song titles and lyrics the same way he attacked hardcore songs. You could see his signature on all of that.

STUMP: We all had very different ideas of what it should sound like. I signed up for Kid Dynamite, Strike Anywhere, or Dillinger Four. Pete was very into Lifetime and Saves The Day. I think both he and Joe were into New Found Glory and Blink-182. I still hadn't heard a lot of stuff. I was arrogant; I was a rock snob. I was over most pop-punk. But then I had this renaissance week where I was like, 'Man, you know what? I really do like The Descendents.' Like, the specific week I met Joe, it just happened to be that I was listening to a lot of Descendents. So, there was a part of me that was tickled by that idea. 'You know what? I'll try a pop-punk band. Why not?'

MOSTOFI: To be clear, they were trying to become a big band. But they did it by elevating radio-friendly pop punk, not debasing themselves for popularity. They were closely studying Drive-Thru Records bands like The Starting Line, who I couldn't stand. But they knew what they were doing. They extracted a few good elements from those bands and combined them with their other influences. Patrick never needed to be auto-tuned. He can sing. Pete never had to contrive this emotional depth. He always had it.

STUMP: The ideas for band names were obnoxious. At some point, Pete and I were arguing over it, and I think our first drummer, Ben Rose, who was in the hardcore band Strength In Numbers, suggested Fall Out Boy. Pete and I were like, 'Well, we don't hate that one. We'll keep it on the list.' But we never voted on a name.

"Fake It Like You Matter" - The Early Shows, 2001

The name Fall Out Boy made their shortlist, but their friends ultimately chose it for them. The line-up at the band's first show was Patrick Stump (sans guitar), Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, drummer Ben Rose, and guitarist John Flamandan in his only FOB appearance.

STUMP: We didn't have a name at our two or three shows. We were basically booked as 'Pete's new band' as he was the most known of any of us. Pete and I were the artsy two.

TROHMAN: The rest of us had no idea what we were doing onstage.

STUMP: We took ourselves very seriously and completely different ideas on what was 'cool.' Pete at the time was somewhere between maybe Chuck Palahniuk and Charles Bukowski, and kind of New Romantic and Manchester stuff, so he had that in mind. The band names he suggested were long and verbose, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. I was pretty much only into Tom Waits, so I wanted everything to be a reference to Tom Waits. The first show was at DePaul [University] in some cafeteria. The room looked a lot nicer than punk rock shows are supposed to look, like a room where you couldn't jump off the walls. We played with a band called Stillwell. I want to say one of the other bands played Black Sabbath's Black Sabbath in its entirety. We were out of place. We were tossing a few different names around. The singer for Stillwell was in earshot of the conversation so I was like 'Hey, settle this for us,' and told him whatever name it was, which I can't remember. 'What do you think of this name?' He goes, 'It sucks.' And the way he said it, there was this element to it, like, 'You guys probably suck, too, so whatever.' That was our first show. We played first and only had three songs. That was John's only show with us, and I never saw him again. I was just singing without a guitar, and I had never just sung before; that was horrifying. We blazed through those songs.

ROSE: Patrick had this shoulder-length hair. Watching these guys who were known for heavier stuff play pop-punk was strange. Pete was hopping around with the X's on his hands. Spitalfield was similar; we were kids playing another style of music who heard Texas Is The Reason and Get Up Kids and said, 'We have to start a band like this.'

MOSTOFI: The first show was a lot of fun. The musical side wasn't there, but Pete and Patrick's humor and charisma were front and center.

TROHMAN: I remember having a conversation with Mani about stage presence. He was telling me how important it was. Coalesce and The Dillinger Escape Plan would throw mic stands and cabinets. We loved that visual excitement and appeal. Years later, Patrick sang a Fall Out Boy song with Taylor Swift at Giants Stadium. It was such a great show to watch that I was reminded of how wise Mani was to give me that advice back then. Mani was like a mentor for me, honestly. He would always guide me through stuff.

MOSTOFI: Those guys grew up in Chicago, either playing in or seeing Extinction, Racetraitor, Los Crudos, and other bands that liked to talk and talk between songs. Fall Out Boy did that, and it was amazing. Patrick was awkward in a knowing and hilarious way. He'd say something odd, and then Pete would zing him. Or Pete would try to say something too cool, and Patrick would remind him they were nerds. These are very personal memories for me. Millions of people have seen the well-oiled machine, but so few of us saw those guys when they were so carefree.

TROHMAN: We had this goofy, bad first show, but all I can tell you was that I was determined to make this band work, no matter what.

STUMP: I kind of assumed that was the end of that. 'Whatever, on with our lives.' But Joe was very determined. He was going to pick us up for practice and we were going to keep playing shows. He was going to make the band happen whether the rest of us wanted to or not. That's how we got past show number one. John left the band because we only had three songs and he wasn't very interested. In the interim, I filled in on guitar. I didn't consider myself a guitar player. Our second show was a college show in Southern Illinois or something.

MCILRITH: That show was with my other band, The Killing Tree.

STUMP: We showed up late and played before The Killing Tree. There was no one there besides the bands and our friends. I think we had voted on some names. Pete said 'Hey, we're whatever!'; probably something very long. And someone yells out, 'Fuck that, no, you're Fall Out Boy!' Then when The Killing Tree was playing, Tim said, 'I want to thank Fall Out Boy.' Everyone looked up to Tim, so when he forced the name on us, it was fine. I was a diehard Simpsons fan, without question. I go pretty deep on The Simpsons. Joe and I would just rattle off Simpsons quotes. I used to do a lot of Simpsons impressions. Ben was very into Simpsons; he had a whole closet full of Simpsons action figures.

"If Only You Knew I Was Terrified" - The Early Recordings, 2002-2003

Wentz's relationships in the hardcore scene led to Fall Out Boy's first official releases. A convoluted and rarely properly explained chain of events resulted in the Fall Out Boy/Project Rocket split EP and Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend. Both were issued by California's Uprising Records, whose discography included Racetraitor's first album and the debut EP by Burn It Down. The band traveled to Wisconsin to record their first proper demo with engineer Jared Logan, drummer for Uprising's 7 Angels 7 Plagues.

TROHMAN: This isn't to be confused with the demo we did in Ben's basement, which was like a tape demo. This was our first real demo.

STUMP: Between booking the demo and recording it, we lost Ben Rose. He was the greatest guy, but it wasn't working out musically. Pete and Joe decided I should play drums on the demo. But Jared is a sick drummer, so he just did it.

TROHMAN: We had gotten this great singer but went through a series of drummers that didn't work out. I had to be the one who kicked Ben out. Not long after, our friend Brett Bunting played with us. I don't think he really wanted to do it, which was a bummer.

STUMP: I showed up to record that demo, feeling pulled into it. I liked hanging out with the guys, but I was a rock snob who didn't really want to be making that type of music. The first few songs were really rough. We were sloppy. We barely practiced. Pete was in Arma Angelus. Joe was the guy determined to make it happen. We couldn't keep a drummer or guitar player, and I could barely play guitar. I didn't really want to be in Fall Out Boy. We had these crappy songs that kind of happened; it didn't feel like anything. Joe did the guitars. I go in to do the vocals, I put on the headphones, and it starts playing and was kind of not bad! It was pretty good, actually. I was shocked. That was the first time I was like, 'Maybe I am supposed to be in this band.' I enjoyed hearing it back.

SEAN MUTTAQI: Wentz and I were pretty tight. He sent me some demos, and while I didn't know it would get as big as it did, I knew it was special. Wentz had a clear vision. Of all the guys from that scene, he was the most singularly focused on taking things to the next level. He was ahead of the game with promotion and the early days of social media.

STUMP: Arma Angelus had been on Eulogy. We talked to them a bit and spoke to Uprising because they had put out Racetraitor. At some point, the demo got to Sean, and he decided to make it half of a split with Andy's band, Project Rocket. We were pretty happy with that.

HURLEY: It was kind of competitive for me at the time. Project Rocket and Fall Out Boy were both doing pop-punk/pop-rock, I met Patrick through the band. I didn't really know him before Fall Out Boy.

TROHMAN: We got this drummer, Mike Pareskuwicz, who had been in a hardcore band from Central Illinois called Subsist.

STUMP: Uprising wanted us to make an album. We thought that was cool, but we only had those three songs that were on the split. We were still figuring ourselves out. One of the times we were recording with Jared in the studio, for the split or the album, this guy T.J. Kunasch was there. He was like, 'Hey, do you guys need a guitarist?' And he joined.

MUTTAQI: I borrowed some money to get them back in the studio. The songwriting was cool on that record, but it was all rushed. The urgency to get something out led to the recording being subpar. Their new drummer looked the part but couldn't really play. They had already tracked the drums before they realized it didn't sound so hot.

STUMP: The recording experience was not fun. We had two days to do an entire album. Mike was an awesome dude, but he lived crazy far away, in Kanakee, Illinois, so the drive to Milwaukee wasn't easy for him. He had to work or something the next day. So, he did everything in one take and left. He played alone, without a click, so it was a ness to figure out. We had to guess where the guitar was supposed to go. None of us liked the songs because we had slapped them together. We thought it all sucked. But I thought, 'Well, at least it'll be cool to have something out.' Then a lot of time went by. Smaller labels were at the mercy of money, and it was crazy expensive to put out a record back then.

MUTTAQI: Our record was being rushed out to help generate some interest, but that interest was building before we could even get the record out. We were beholden to finances while changing distribution partners and dealing with other delays. The buck stops with me, yes, but I didn't have that much control over the scheduling.

WENTZ: It's not what I would consider the first Fall Out Boy record. Hurley isn't on it and he's an integral part of the Fall Out Boy sound. But it is part of the history, the legacy. NASA didn't go right to the moon. They did test flights in the desert. Those are our test flights in the desert. It's not something I'm ashamed of or have weird feelings about.

STUMP: It's kind of embarrassing to me. Evening Out... isn't representative of the band we became. I liked Sean a lot, so it's nothing against him. If anybody wants to check out the band in that era, I think the split EP is a lot cooler. Plus, Andy is on that one.

TROHMAN: T.J. was the guy who showed up to the show without a guitar. He was the guy that could never get it right, but he was in the band for a while because we wanted a second guitar player. He's a nice dude but wasn't great to be in a band with back then. One day he drove unprompted from Racine to Chicago to pick up some gear. I don't know how he got into my parents' house, but the next thing I knew, he was in my bedroom. I didn't like being woken up and kicked him out of the band from bed.

STUMP: Our friend Brian Bennance asked us to do a split 7" with 504 Plan, which was a big band to us. Brian offered to pay for us to record with Sean O'Keefe, which was also a big deal. Mike couldn't get the time off work to record with us. We asked Andy to play on the songs. He agreed to do it, but only if he could make it in time after recording an entire EP with his band, The Kill Pill, in Chicago, on the same day.

MOSTOFI: Andy and I started The Kill Pill shortly after Racetraitor split up, not long after Fall Out Boy had formed. We played a bunch of local shows together. The minute Andy finished tracking drums for our EP in Chicago, he raced to the other studio in Madison.

STUMP: I'm getting ready to record the drums myself, getting levels and checking the drums, pretty much ready to go. And then in walks Andy Hurley. I was a little bummed because I really wanted to play drums that day. But then Andy goes through it all in like two takes and fucking nailed the entire thing. He just knocked it out of the park. All of us were like, 'That's crazy!'

WENTZ: When Andy came in, It just felt different. It was one of those 'a-ha' moments.

STUMP: Sean leaned over to us and said, 'You need to get this guy in the band.'

SEAN O'KEEFE: We had a blast. We pumped It out. We did it fast and to analog tape. People believe it was very Pro Tools oriented, but it really was done to 24-track tape. Patrick sang his ass off.

STUMP: The songs we had were 'Dead On Arrival,' 'Saturday,' and 'Homesick at Space Camp. There are quite a few songs that ended up on Take This To You Grave where I wrote most of the lyrics but Pete titled them.

WENTZ: 'Space Camp' was a reference to the 1986 movie, SpaceCamp, and the idea of space camp. Space camp wasn't something anyone in my area went to. Maybe they did, but it was never an option for me. It seems like the little kid version of meeting Jay-Z. The idea was also: what if you, like Joaquin Phoenix in the movie, took off to outer space and wanted to get home? 'I made it to space and now I'm just homesick and want to hang out with my friends.' In the greater sense, it's about having it all, but it's still not enough. There's a pop culture reference in 'Saturday' that a lot of people miss. 'Pete and I attack the lost Astoria' was a reference to The Goonies, which was filmed in Astoria, Oregon.

HURLEY: I remember hearing those recordings, especially 'Dead on Arrival,' and Patrick's voice and how well written those songs were, especially relative to anything else I had done - I had a feeling that this could do something.

WENTZ: It seemed like it would stall out if we didn't get a solid drummer in the band soon. That was the link that we couldn't nail down. Patrick was always a big musical presence. He thinks and writes rhythmi-cally, and we couldn't get a drummer to do what he wanted or speak his language. Hurley was the first one that could. It's like hearing two drummers talk together when they really get it. It sounds like a foreign language because it's not something I'm keyed into. Patrick needed someone on a similar musical plane. I wasn't there. Joe was younger and was probably headed there.

HURLEY: When Patrick was doing harmonies, it was like Queen. He's such a brilliant dude. I was always in bands that did a record and then broke up. I felt like this was a band that could tour a lot like the hardcore bands we loved, even if we had to have day jobs, too.

"(Four) Tired Boys And A Broken Down Van" - The Early Tours, 2002-2003

STUMP: We booked a tour with Spitalfield, another Chicago band, who had records out, so they were a big deal to us. We replaced T.J. with a guy named Brandon Hamm. He was never officially in the band. He quit when we were practicing 'Saturday.' He goes, 'I don't like that. I don't want to do this anymore.' Pete talked with guitarist Chris Envy from Showoff, who had just broken up. Chris said, 'Yeah, I'll play in your band.' He came to two practices, then quit like two days before the tour. It was only a two-week tour, but Mike couldn't get the time off work from Best Buy, or maybe it was Blockbuster. We had to lose Mike, which was the hardest member change for me. It was unpleasant.

TROHMAN: We had been trying to get Andy to join the band for a while. Even back at that first Borders conversation, we talked about him, but he was too busy at the time.

STUMP: I borrowed one of Joe's guitars and jumped in the fire. We were in this legendarily shitty used van Pete had gotten. It belonged to some flower shop, so it had this ominously worn-out flower decal outside and no windows [except in the front]. Crappy brakes, no A/C, missing the rearview mirror, no seats in the back, only the driver's seat. About 10 minutes into the tour, we hit something. A tire exploded and slingshot into the passenger side mirror, sending glass flying into the van. We pulled over into some weird animal petting zoo. I remember thinking, 'This is a bad omen for this tour.' Spitalfield was awesome, and we became tight with them. Drew Brown, who was later in Weekend Nachos, was out with them, too. But most of the shows were canceled.

WENTZ: We'd end up in a town, and our show was canceled, or we'd have three days off. 'Let's just get on whatever show we can. Whatever, you can pay us in pizza.'

STUMP: We played in a pizza place. We basically blocked the line of people trying to order pizza, maybe a foot away from the shitty tables. Nobody is trying to watch a band. They're just there to eat pizza. And that was perhaps the biggest show we played on that tour. One of the best moments on the Spitalfied tour was in Lincoln, Nebraska. The local opener wasn't even there - they were at the bar across the street and showed up later with two people. Fall Out Boy played for Spitalfield, and Spitalfield played for Fall Out Boy. Even the sound guy had left. It was basically an empty room. It was miserable.

HURLEY: Even though we played a ton of shows in front of just the other bands, it was awesome. I've known Pete forever and always loved being in bands with him. After that tour, it was pretty much agreed that I would be in the band. I wanted to be in the band.

WENTZ: We would play literally any show in those days for free. We played Chain Reaction in Orange County with a bunch of metalcore bands. I want to say Underoath was one of them. I remember a lot of black shirts and crossed arms at those kinds of shows. STUMP: One thing that gets lost in the annals of history is Fall Out Boy, the discarded hardcore band. We played so many hardcore shows! The audiences were cool, but they were just like, 'This is OK, but we'd really rather be moshing right now.' Which was better than many of the receptions we got from pop-punk kids.

MOSTOFI: Pete made sure there was little division between the band and the audience. In hardcore, kids are encouraged to grab the mic. Pete was very conscious about making the crowd feel like friends. I saw them in Austin, Texas, in front of maybe ten kids. But it was very clear all ten of those kids felt like Pete's best friends. And they were, in a way.

MCILRITH: People started to get into social networking. That kind of thing was all new to us, and they were way ahead. They networked with their fans before any of us.

MOSTOFI: Pete shared a lot about his life online and was intimate as hell. It was a new type of scene. Pete extended the band's community as far as fiber optics let him.

ROSE: Pete was extremely driven. Looking back, I wish I had that killer instinct. During that tour; we played a show in Colorado. On the day of the show, we went to Kinko's to make flyers to hand out to college kids. Pete put ‘members of Saves The Day and Screeching Weasel’ on the flyer. He was just like, 'This will get people in.'

WENTZ: We booked a lot of our early shows through hardcore connections, and to some extent, that carries through to what Fall Out Boy shows are like today. If you come to see us play live, we're basically Slayer compared to everyone else when we play these pop radio shows. Some of that carries back to what you must do to avoid being heckled at hardcore shows. You may not like our music, but you will leave here respecting us. Not everyone is going to love you. Not everyone is going to give a shit. But you need to earn a crowd's respect. That was an important way for us to learn that.

MOSTOFI: All those dudes, except Andy, lived in this great apartment with our friend Brett Bunting, who was almost their drummer at one point. The proximity helped them gel.

STUMP: There were a lot of renegade last-minute shows where we'd just call and get added. We somehow ended up on a show with Head Automatica that way.

MCILRITH: At some point early on, they opened for Rise Against in a church basement in Downers Grove. We were doing well then; headlining that place was a big deal. Then Pete's band was coming up right behind us, and you could tell there was a lot of chatter about Fall Out Boy. I remember getting to the show, and there were many people there, many of whom I had never seen in the scene before. A lot of unfamiliar faces. A lot of people that wouldn't have normally found their way to the seedy Fireside Bowl in Chicago. These were young kids, and I was 21 then, so when I say young, I mean really young. Clearly, Fall Out Boy had tapped into something the rest of us had not. People were super excited to see them play and freaked out; there was a lot of enthusiasm at that show. After they finished, their fans bailed. They were dedicated. They wanted to see Fall Out Boy. They didn't necessarily want to see Rise Against play. That was my first clue that, 'Whoa, what Pete told me that day at Arma Angelus rehearsal is coming true. He was right.' Whatever he was doing was working.

"My Insides Are Copper, And I'd Like To Make Them Gold" - The Record Labels Come Calling, 2002

STUMP: The split EP was going to be a three-way split with 504 Plan, August Premier, and us at one point. But then the record just never happened. Brian backed out of putting it out. We asked him if we could do something else with the three songs and he didn't really seem to care. So, we started shopping the three songs as a demo. Pete ended up framing the rejection letters we got from a lot of pop-punk labels. But some were interested.

HURLEY: We wanted to be on Drive-Thru Records so bad. That was the label.

RICHARD REINES: After we started talking to them, I found the demo they had sent us in the office. I played it for my sister. We decided everything together. She liked them but wasn't as crazy about them as I was. We arranged with Pete to see them practice. We had started a new label called Rushmore. Fall Out Boy wasn't the best live band. We weren't thrilled [by the showcase]. But the songs were great. We both had to love a band to sign them, so my sister said, 'If you love them so much, let's sign them to Rushmore, not Drive Thru.'

HURLEY: We did a showcase for Richard and Stephanie Reines. They were just kind of like, 'Yeah, we have this side label thing. We'd be interested in having you on that.' I remember them saying they passed on Saves The Day and wished they would have put out Through Being Cool. But then they [basically] passed on us by offering to put us on Rushmore. We realized we could settle for that, but we knew it wasn't the right thing.

RORY FELTON: Kevin Knight had a website, TheScout, which always featured great new bands. I believe he shared the demo with us. I flew out to Chicago. Joe and Patrick picked me up at the airport. I saw them play at a VFW hall, Patrick drank an entire bottle of hot sauce on a dare at dinner, and then we all went to see the movie The Ring. I slept on the couch in their apartment, the one featured on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. Chad [Pearson], my partner, also flew out to meet with the band.

STUMP: It was a weird time to be a band because it was feast or famine. At first, no one wanted us. Then as soon as one label said, 'Maybe we'll give 'em a shot,' suddenly there's a frenzy of phone calls from record labels. We were getting our shirts printed by Victory Records. One day, we went to pick up shirts, and someone came downstairs and said, 'Um, guys? [Owner] Tony [Brummel] wants to see you.' We were like, 'Did we forget to pay an invoice?' He made us an offer on the spot. We said, 'That's awesome, but we need to think about it.' It was one of those 'now or never' kinds of things. I think we had even left the van running. It was that kind of sudden; we were overwhelmed by it.

HURLEY: They told me Tony said something like, 'You can be with the Nike of the record industry or the Keds of the record industry.'

STUMP: We'd get random calls at the apartment. 'Hey, I'm a manager with so-and-so.' I talked to some boy band manager who said, 'We think you'll be a good fit.'

TROHMAN: The idea of a manager was a ‘big-time' thing. I answered a call one day, and this guy is like, 'I'm the manager for the Butthole Surfers, and I'd really like to work with you guys.' I just said, Yeah, I really like the Butthole Surfers, but I'll have to call you back.' And I do love that band. But I just knew that wasn't the right thing.

STUMP: Not all the archetypes you always read about are true. The label guys aren't all out to get you. Some are total douchebags. But then there are a lot who are sweet and genuine. It's the same thing with managers. I really liked the Militia Group. They told us it was poor form to talk to us without a manager. They recommended Bob McLynn.

FELTON: We knew the guys at Crush from working with Acceptance and The Beautiful Mistake. We thought they'd be great for Fall Out Boy, so we sent the music to their team.

STUMP: They said Crush was their favorite management company and gave us their number. Crush's biggest band at the time was American Hi-Fi. Jonathan Daniels, the guy who started the company, sent a manager to see us. The guy was like, "This band sucks!' But Jonathan liked us and thought someone should do something with us. Bob was his youngest rookie manager. He had never managed anyone, and we had never been managed.

BOB MCLYNN: Someone else from my office who isn't with us anymore had seen them, but I hadn't seen them yet. At the time, we'd tried to manage Brand New; they went elsewhere, and I was bummed. Then we got the Fall Out Boy demo, and I was like, Wow. This sounds even better. This guy can really sing, and these songs are great.' I remember going at it hard after that whole thing. Fall Out Boy was my consolation prize. I don't know if they were talking to other managers or not, but Pete and I clicked.

TROHMAN: In addition to being really creative, Pete is really business savvy. We all have a bullshit detector these days, but Pete already had one back then. We met Bob, and we felt like this dude wouldn't fuck us over.

STUMP: We were the misfit toy that nobody else wanted. Bob really believed in us when nobody else did and when nobody believed in him. What's funny is that all the other managers at Crush were gone within a year. It was just Bob and Jonathan, and now they're partners. Bob was the weird New York Hardcore guy who scared me at the time.

TROHMAN: We felt safe with him. He's a big, hulking dude.

MCLYNN: We tried to make a deal with The Militia Group, but they wouldn't back off on a few things in the agreement. I told them those were deal breakers, opening the door to everyone else. I knew this band needed a shot to do bigger and better things.

TROHMAN: He told us not to sign with the label that recommended him to us. We thought there was something very honest about that.

MCLYNN: They paid all their dues. Those guys worked harder than any band I'd ever seen, and I was all about it. I had been in bands before and had just gotten out. I was getting out of the van just as these guys got into one. They busted their asses.

STUMP: A few labels basically said the same thing: they wanted to hear more. They weren't convinced we could write another song as good as 'Dead On Arrival.' I took that as a challenge. We returned to Sean a few months after those initial three songs, this time at Gravity Studios in Chicago. We recorded ‘Grenade Jumper' and 'Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy' in a night or two. 'Where is Your Boy' was my, 'Fine, you don't think I can write a fucking song? Here's your hit song, jerks!' But I must have pushed Pete pretty hard [arguing about the songs]. One night, as he and I drove with Joe, Pete said, 'Guys, I don't think I want to do this band anymore.' We talked about it for the rest of the ride home. I didn't want to be in the band in the first place! I was like, 'No! That's not fair! Don't leave me with this band! Don't make me kind of like this band, and then leave it! That's bullshit!' Pete didn't stay at the apartment that night. I called him at his parent's house. I told him I wasn't going to do the band without him. He was like, 'Don't break up your band over it.' I said, 'It's not my band. It's a band that you, Joe, and I started.' He was like, 'OK, I'll stick around.' And he came back with a vengeance.

WENTZ: It was maybe the first time we realized we could do these songs titles that didn't have much do with the song from the outside. Grand Theft Auto was such a big pop culture franchise. If you said the phrase back then, everyone recognized it. The play on words was about someone stealing your time in the fall. It was the earliest experimentation with that so it was a little simplistic compared to the stuff we did later. At the time, we'd tell someone the song title, and they'd say, 'You mean "Auto"'?

JOHN JANICK: I saw their name on fliers and thought it was strange. But I remembered it. Then I saw them on a flyer with one of our bands from Chicago, August Premier. I called them and asked about this band whose name I had seen on a few flyers now. They told me they were good and I should check it out. I heard an early version of a song online and instantly fell in love with it. Drive-Thru, The Militia Group, and a few majors tried to sign them. I was the odd man out. But I knew I wanted them right away.

HURLEY: Fueled By Ramen was co-owned by Vinnie [Fiorello] from Less Than Jake. It wasn't necessarily a band I grew up loving, but I had so much respect for them and what they had done and were doing.

JANICK: I randomly cold-called them at the apartment and spoke to Patrick. He told me I had to talk to Pete. I spoke to Pete later that day. We ended up talking on the phone for an hour. It was crazy. I never flew out there. I just got to know them over the phone.

MCLYNN: There were majors [interested], but I didn't want the band on a major right away. I knew they wouldn't understand the band. Rob Stevenson from Island Records knew all the indie labels were trying to sign Fall Out Boy. We did this first-ever incubator sort of deal. I also didn't want to stay on an indie forever; I felt we needed to develop and have a chance to do bigger and better things, but these indies didn't necessarily have radio staff. It was sort of the perfect scenario. Island gave us money to go on Fueled By Ramen, with whom we did a one-off. No one else would offer a one-off on an indie.

STUMP: They were the smallest of the labels involved, with the least 'gloss.' I said, 'I don't know about this, Pete.' Pete was the one who thought it was the smartest move. He pointed out that we could be a big fish in a small pond. So, we rolled the dice.

HURLEY: It was a one-record deal with Fueled By Ramen. We didn't necessarily get signed to Island, but they had the 'right of first refusal' [for the album following Take This To Your Grave]. It was an awesome deal. It was kind of unheard of, maybe, but there was a bunch of money coming from Island that we didn't have to recoup for promo type of things.

JANICK: The company was so focused on making sure we broke Fall Out Boy; any other label probably wouldn't have had that dedication. Pete and I talked for at least an hour every day. Pete and I became so close, so much so that we started Decaydance. It was his thing, but we ended up signing Panic! At The Disco, Gym Class Heroes, Cobra Starship.

GUTIERREZ: Who could predict Pete would A&R all those bands? There's no Panic! At The Disco or Gym Class Heroes without Wentz. He made them into celebrities.

"Turn This Up And I'll Tune You Out" - The Making of Take This To You Grave, 2003

The versions of "Dead on Arrival," "Saturday," and "Homesick at Space Camp" from the first sessions with Andy on drums are what appear on the album. "Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy" and "Grenade Jumper" are the demo versions recorded later in Chicago. O'Keefe recorded the music for the rest of the songs at Smart Studios once again. They knocked out the remaining songs in just nine days. Sean and Patrick snuck into Gravity Studios in the middle of the night to track vocals in the dead of winter. Patrick sang those seven songs from two to five in the morning in those sessions.

STUMP: John Janick basically said, ‘I'll buy those five songs and we'll make them part of the album, and here's some money to go record seven more.'

MCLYNN: It was a true indie deal with Fueled by Ramen. I think we got between $15,000 and $18,000 all-in to make the album. The band slept on the studio floor some nights.

STUMP: From a recording standpoint, it was amazing. It was very pro, we had Sean, all this gear, the fun studio accoutrements were there. It was competitive with anything we did afterward. But meanwhile, we're still four broke idiots.

WENTZ: We fibbed to our parents about what we were doing. I was supposed to be in school. I didn't have access to money or a credit card. I don't think any of us did.

STUMP: I don't think we slept anywhere we could shower, which was horrifying. There was a girl that Andy's girlfriend at the time went to school with who let us sleep on her floor, but we'd be there for maybe four hours at a time. It was crazy.

HURLEY: Once, Patrick thought it would be a good idea to spray this citrus bathroom spray under his arms like deodorant. It just destroyed him because it's not made for that. But it was all an awesome adventure.

WENTZ: We were so green we didn't really know how studios worked. Every day there was soda for the band. We asked, 'Could you take that soda money and buy us peanut butter, jelly, and bread?' which they did. I hear that stuff in some ways when I listen to that album.

HURLEY: Sean pushed us. He was such a perfectionist, which was awesome. I felt like, ‘This is what a real professional band does.' It was our first real studio experience.

WENTZ: Seeing the Nirvana Nevermind plaque on the wall was mind-blowing. They showed us the mic that had been used on that album.

HURLEY: The mic that Kurt Cobain used, that was pretty awesome, crazy, legendary, and cool. But we didn't get to use it.

WENTZ: They said only Shirley Manson] from Garbage could use it.

O'KEEFE: Those dudes were all straight edge at the time. It came up in conversation that I had smoked weed once a few months before. That started this joke that I was this huge stoner, which obviously I wasn't. They'd call me 'Scoobie Snacks O'Keefe' and all these things. When they turned in the art for the record, they thanked me with like ten different stoner nicknames - 'Dimebag O'Keefe' and stuff like that. The record company made Pete take like seven of them out because they said it was excessively ridiculous.

WENTZ: Sean was very helpful. He worked within the budget and took us more seriously than anyone else other than Patrick. There were no cameras around. There was no documentation. There was nothing to indicate this would be some ‘legendary' session. There are 12 songs on the album because those were all the songs we had. There was no pomp or circumstance or anything to suggest it would be an 'important’ record.

STUMP: Pete and I were starting to carve out our niches. When Pete [re-committed himself to the band], it felt like he had a list of things in his head he wanted to do right. Lyrics were on that list. He wasn't playing around anymore. I wrote the majority of the lyrics up to that point - ‘Saturday,' 'Dead on Arrival,' ‘Where's Your Boy?,’ ‘Grenade Jumper,' and ‘Homesick at Space Camp.' I was an artsy-fartsy dude who didn't want to be in a pop-punk band, so I was going really easy on the lyrics. I wasn't taking them seriously. When I look back on it, I did write some alright stuff. But I wasn't trying. Pete doesn't fuck around like that, and he does not take that kindly. When we returned to the studio, he started picking apart every word, every syllable. He started giving me [notes]. I got so exasperated at one point I was like, ‘You just write the fucking lyrics, dude. Just give me your lyrics, and I'll write around them.' Kind of angrily. So, he did. We hadn't quite figured out how to do it, though. I would write a song, scrap my lyrics, and try to fit his into where mine had been. It was exhausting. It was a rough process. It made both of us unhappy.

MCLYNN: I came from the post-hardcore scene in New York and wasn't a big fan of the pop-punk stuff happening. What struck me with these guys was the phenomenal lyrics and Patrick's insane voice. Many guys in these kinds of bands can sing alright, but Patrick was like a real singer. This guy had soul. He'd take these great lyrics Pete wrote and combine it with that soul, and that's what made their unique sound. They both put their hearts on their sleeves when they wrote together.

STUMP: We had a massive fight over 'Chicago is So Two Years Ago.' I didn't even want to record that song. I was being precious with things that were mine. Part of me thought the band wouldn't work out, and I'd go to college and do some music alone. I had a skeletal version of 'Chicago...'. I was playing it to myself in the lobby of the studio. I didn't know anyone was listening. Sean was walking by and wanted to [introduce it to the others]. I kind of lost my song. I was very precious about it. Pete didn't like some of the lyrics, so we fought. We argued over each word, one at a time. 'Tell That Mick...' was also a pretty big fight. Pete ended up throwing out all my words on that one. That was the first song where he wrote the entire set of lyrics. My only change was light that smoke' instead of ‘cigarette' because I didn't have enough syllables to say 'cigarette.' Everything else was verbatim what he handed to me. I realized I must really want to be in this band at this point if I'm willing to put up with this much fuss. The sound was always more important to me - the rhythm of the words, alliteration, syncopation - was all very exciting. Pete didn't care about any of that. He was all meaning. He didn't care how good the words sounded if they weren't amazing when you read them. Man, did we fight about that. We fought for nine days straight while not sleeping and smelling like shit. It was one long argument, but I think some of the best moments resulted from that.

WENTZ: In 'Calm Before the Storm,' Patrick wrote the line, 'There's a song on the radio that says, 'Let's Get This Party Started' which is a direct reference to Pink's 2001 song 'Get the Party Started.' 'Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today' is a line from the movie Rushmore. I thought we'd catch a little more flack for that, but even when we played it in Ireland, there was none of that. It's embraced, more like a shoutout.

STUMP: Pete and I met up on a lot of the same pop culture. He was more into '80s stuff than I was. One of the first things we talked about were Wes Anderson movies.

WENTZ: Another thing driving that song title was the knowledge that our fanbase wouldn't necessarily be familiar with Wes Anderson. It could be something that not only inspired us but something fans could also go check out. People don't ask us about that song so much now, but in that era, we'd answer and tell them to go watch Rushmore. You gotta see this movie. This line is a hilarious part of it.' Hopefully some people did. I encountered Jason Schwartzman at a party once. We didn't get to talk about the movie, but he was the sweetest human, and I was just geeking out. He told me he was writing a film with Wes Anderson about a train trip in India. I wanted to know about the writing process. He was like, 'Well, he's in New York City, I'm in LA. It's crazy because I'm on the phone all the time and my ear gets really hot.' That's the anecdote I got, and I loved it.

O'KEEFE: They're totally different people who approach making music from entirely different angles. It's cool to see them work. Pete would want a certain lyric. Patrick was focused on the phrasing. Pete would say the words were stupid and hand Patrick a revision, and Patrick would say I can't sing those the way I need to sing this. They would go through ten revisions for one song. I thought I would lose my mind with both of them, but then they would find it, and it would be fantastic. When they work together, it lights up. It takes on a life of its own. It's not always happy. There's a lot of push and pull, and each is trying to get their thing. With Take This To Your Grave, we never let anything go until all three of us were happy. Those guys were made to do this together.

WENTZ: A lot of the little things weren't a big deal, but those were things that [felt like] major decisions. I didn't want 'Where Is Your Boy' on Take This To Your Grave.

JANICK: I freaked out. I called Bob and said, 'We must put this song on the album! It's one of the biggest songs.' He agreed. We called Pete and talked about it; he was cool about it and heard us out.

WENTZ: I thought many things were humongous, and they just weren't. They didn't matter one way or another.

"Our Lawyer Made Us Change The (Album Cover)" - That Photo On Take This To Your Grave, 2003

STUMP: The band was rooted in nostalgia from early on. The '80s references were very much Pete's aesthetic. He had an idea for the cover. It ended up being his girlfriend at the time, face down on the bed, exhausted, in his bedroom. That was his bedroom in our apartment. His room was full of toys, '80s cereals. If we ended up with the Abbey Road cover of pop-punk, that original one was Sgt. Pepper's. But we couldn't legally clear any of the stuff in the photo. Darth Vader, Count Chocula…

WENTZ: There's a bunch of junk in there: a Morrissey poster, I think a Cher poster, Edward Scissorhands. We submitted it to Fueled by Ramen, and they were like, 'We can't clear any of this stuff.’ The original album cover did eventually come out on the vinyl version.

STUMP: The photo that ended up being the cover was simply a promo photo for that album cycle. We had to scramble. I was pushing the Blue Note jazz records feel. That's why the CD looks a bit like vinyl and why our names are listed on the front. I wanted a live photo on the cover. Pete liked the Blue Note idea but didn't like the live photo idea. I also made the fateful decision to have my name listed as 'Stump' rather than Stumph.

WENTZ: What we used was initially supposed to be the back cover. I remember someone in the band being pissed about it forever. Not everyone was into having our names on the cover. It was a strange thing to do at the time. But had the original cover been used, it wouldn't have been as iconic as what we ended up with. It wouldn't have been a conversation piece. That stupid futon in our house was busted in the middle. We're sitting close to each other because the futon was broken. The exposed brick wall was because it was the worst apartment ever. It makes me wonder: How many of these are accidental moments? At the time, there was nothing iconic about it. If we had a bigger budget, we probably would have ended up with a goofier cover that no one would have cared about.

STUMP: One of the things I liked about the cover was that it went along with something Pete had always said. I'm sure people will find this ironic, but Pete had always wanted to create a culture with the band where it was about all four guys and not just one guy. He had the foresight to even think about things like that. I didn't think anyone would give a fuck about our band! At the time, it was The Pete Wentz Band to most people. With that album cover, he was trying to reject that and [demonstrate] that all four of us mattered. A lot of people still don't get that, but whatever. I liked that element of the cover. It felt like a team. It felt like Voltron. It wasn't what I like to call 'the flying V photo' where the singer is squarely in the center, the most important, and everyone else is nearest the camera in order of 'importance.' The drummer would be in the very back. Maybe the DJ guy who scratches records was behind the drummer.

"You Need Him. I Could Be Him. Where Is Your Boy Tonight?" - The Dynamics of Punk Pop's Fab 4, 2003

Patrick seemed like something of the anti-frontman, never hogging the spotlight and often shrinking underneath his baseball hat. Wentz was more talkative, more out front on stage and in interviews, in a way that felt unprecedented for a bass player who wasn't also singing. In some ways, Fall Out Boy operated as a two-headed dictatorship. Wentz and Stump are in the car's front seat while Joe and Andy ride in the back.

STUMP: There is a lot of truth to that. Somebody must be in the front seat, no question. But the analogy doesn't really work for us; were more like a Swiss Army knife. You've got all these different attachments, but they are all part of the same thing. When you need one specific tool, the rest go back into the handle. That was how the band functioned and still does in many ways. Pete didn't want anyone to get screwed. Some things we've done might not have been the best business decision but were the right human decision. That was very much Pete's thing. I was 19 and very reactionary. If someone pissed me off, I'd be like, 'Screw them forever!' But Pete was very tactful. He was the business guy. Joe was active on the internet. He wouldn't stop believing in this band. He was the promotions guy. Andy was an honest instrumentalist: ‘I'm a drummer, and I'm going to be the best fucking drummer I can be.' He is very disciplined. None of us were that way aside from him. I was the dictator in the studio. I didn't know what producing was at the time or how it worked, but in retrospect, I've produced a lot of records because I'm an asshole in the studio. I'm a nice guy, but I'm not the nicest guy in the studio. It's a lot easier to know what you don't want. We carved out those roles early. We were very dependent on each other.

MCLYNN: I remember sitting in Japan with those guys. None of them were drinking then, but I was drinking plenty. It was happening there, their first time over, and all the shows were sold out. I remember looking at Pete and Patrick and telling Pete, ‘You're the luckiest guy in the world because you found this guy.' Patrick laughed. Then I turned to Patrick and said the same thing to him. Because really, they're yin and yang. They fit together so perfectly. The fact that Patrick found this guy with this vision, Pete had everything for the band laid out in his mind. Patrick, how he can sing, and what he did with Pete's lyrics - no one else could have done that. We tried it, even with the Black Cards project in 2010. We'd find these vocalists. Pete would write lyrics, and they'd try to form them into songs, but they just couldn't do it the way Patrick could. Pete has notebooks full of stuff that Patrick turns into songs. Not only can he sing like that, but how he turns those into songs is an art unto itself. It's really the combination of those two guys that make Fall Out Boy what it is. They're fortunate they found each other.

"I Could Walk This Fine Line Between Elation And Success. We All Know Which Way I'm Going To Strike The Stake Between My Chest" - Fall Out Boy Hits the Mainstream, 2003

Released on May 6, 2003, Take This To Your Grave massively connected with fans. (Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend arrived in stores less than two months earlier.) While Take This To Your Grave didn't crack the Billboard 200 upon its release, it eventually spent 30 weeks on the charts. From Under the Cork Tree debuted in the Top 10 just two years later, largely on Grave's momentum. 2007's Infinity on High bowed at #1.

WENTZ: I remember noticing it was getting insane when we would do in-stores. We'd still play anywhere. That was our deal. We liked being able to sell our stuff in the stores, too. It would turn into a riot. We played a Hollister at the mall in Schaumburg, Illinois. A lot of these stores were pretty corporate with a lot of rules, but Hollister would let us rip. Our merch guy was wearing board shorts, took this surfboard off the wall, and started crowd-surfing with it during the last song. I remember thinking things had gotten insane right at that moment.

HURLEY: When we toured with Less Than Jake, there were these samplers with two of their songs and two of ours. Giving those out was a surreal moment. To have real promotion for a record... It wasn't just an ad in a 'zine or something. It was awesome.

MCLYNN: They toured with The Reunion Show, Knockout, and Punch-line. One of their first big tours as an opening act was with MEST. There would be sold-out shows with 1,000 kids, and they would be singing along to Fall Out Boy much louder than to MEST. It was like, 'What's going on here?' It was the same deal with Less Than Jake. It really started catching fire months into the album being out. You just knew something was happening. As a headliner, they went from 500-capacity clubs to 1500 - 2000 capacity venues.

WENTZ: We always wanted to play The Metro in Chicago. It got awkward when they started asking us to play after this band or that band. There were bands we grew up with that were now smaller than us. Headlining The Metro was just wild. My parents came.

MCLYNN: There was a week on Warped Tour, and there was some beel because these guys were up-and-comers, and some of the bands that were a little more established weren't too happy. They were getting a little shit on Warped Tour that week, sort of their initiation. They were on this little, shitty stage. So many kids showed up to watch them in Detroit, and the kids rushed the stage, and it collapsed. The PA failed after like three songs. They finished with an acapella, 'Where is Your Boy,’ and the whole crowd sang along.

WENTZ: That's when every show started ending in a riot because it couldn't be contained. We ended up getting banned from a lot of venues because the entire crowd would end up onstage. It was pure energy. We'd be billed on tour as the opening band, and the promoter would tell us we had to close the show or else everyone would leave after we played. We were a good band to have that happen to because there wasn't any ego. We were just like, "Oh, that's weird.' It was just bizarre. When my parents saw it was this wid thing, they said, 'OK, yeah, maybe take a year off from college.' That year is still going on.

MCLYNN: That Warped Tour was when the band's first big magazine cover, by far, hit the stands. I give a lot of credit to Norman Wonderly and Mike Shea at Alternative Press. They saw what was happening with Fall Out Boy and were like, 'We know it's early with you guys, but we want to give you a cover.' It was the biggest thing to happen to any of us. It really helped kick it to another level. It helped stoke the fires that were burning. This is back when bands like Green Day, Blink-182, and No Doubt still sold millions of records left and right. It was a leap of faith for AP to step out on Fall Out Boy the way they did.

STUMP: That was our first big cover. It was crazy. My parents flipped out. That wasn't a small zine. It was a magazine my mom could find in a bookstore and tell her friends. It was a shocking time. It's still like that. Once the surrealism starts, it never ends. I was onstage with Taylor Swift ten years later. That statement just sounds insane. It's fucking crazy. But when I was onstage, I just fell into it. I wasn't thinking about how crazy it was until afterward. It was the same thing with the AP cover. We were so busy that it was just another one of those things we were doing that day. When we left, I was like, 'Holy fuck! We're on the cover of a magazine! One that I read! I have a subscription to that!'

HURLEY: Getting an 'In The Studio' blurb was a big deal. I remember seeing bands 'in the studio' and thinking, Man, I would love to be in that and have people care that we're in the studio.' There were more minor things, but that was our first big cover.

STUMP: One thing I remember about the photo shoot is I was asked to take off my hat. I was forced to take it off and had been wearing that hat for a while. I never wanted to be the lead singer. I always hoped to be a second guitarist with a backup singer role. I lobbied to find someone else to be the proper singer. But here I was, being the lead singer, and I fucking hated it. When I was a drummer, I was always behind something. Somehow the hat thing started. Pete gave me a hat instead of throwing it away - I think it's the one I'm wearing on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. It became like my Linus blanket. I had my hat, and I could permanently hide. You couldn't see my eyes or much of me, and I was very comfortable that way. The AP cover shoot was the first time someone asked me to remove it. My mom has a poster of that cover in her house, and every time I see it, I see the fear on my face - just trying to maintain composure while filled with terror and insecurity. ‘Why is there a camera on me?'

JANICK: We pounded the pavement every week for two years. We believed early on that something great was going to happen. As we moved to 100,000 and 200,000 albums, there were points where everything was tipping. When they were on the cover of Alternative Press. When they did Warped for five days, and the stage collapsed. We went into Christmas with the band selling 2000 to 3000 a week and in the listening stations at Hot Topic. Fueled By Ramen had never had anything like that before.

MOSTOFI: Pete and I used to joke that if he weren't straight edge, he would have likely been sent to prison or worse at some point before Fall Out Boy. Pete has a predisposition to addictive behavior and chemical dependency. This is something we talked about a lot back in the day. Straight Edge helped him avoid some of the traps of adolescence.

WENTZ: I was straight edge at the time. I don't think our band would have been so successful without that. The bands we were touring with were partying like crazy. Straight Edge helped solidify the relationship between the four of us. We were playing for the love of music, not for partying or girls or stuff like that. We liked being little maniacs running around. Hurley and I were kind of the younger brothers of the hardcore kids we were in bands with. This was an attempt to get out of that shadow a little bit. Nobody is going to compare this band to Racetraitor. You know when you don't want to do exactly what your dad or older brother does? There was a little bit of that.

"Take This To Your Grave, And I'll Take It To Mine" - The Legacy of Take This To Your Grave, 2003-2023

Take This To Your Grave represents a time before the paparazzi followed Wentz to Starbucks, before marriages and children, Disney soundtracks, and all the highs and lows of an illustrious career. The album altered the course for everyone involved with its creation. Crush Music added Miley Cyrus, Green Day, and Weezer to their roster. Fueled By Ramen signed Twenty One Pilots, Paramore, A Day To Remember, and All Time Low.

STUMP: I'm so proud of Take This To Your Grave. I had no idea how much people were going to react to it. I didn't know Fall Out Boy was that good of a band. We were this shitty post-hardcore band that decided to do a bunch of pop-punk before I went to college, and Pete went back to opening for Hatebreed. That was the plan. Somehow this record happened. To explain to people now how beautiful and accidental that record was is difficult. It seems like it had to have been planned, but no, we were that shitty band that opened for 25 Ta Life.

HURLEY: We wanted to make a record as perfect as Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. A front-to-back perfect collection of songs. That was our obsession with Take This To Your Grave. We were just trying to make a record that could be compared in any way to that record. There's just something special about when the four of us came together.

WENTZ: It blows my mind when I hear people talking about Take This To Your Grave or see people including it on lists because it was just this tiny personal thing. It was very barebones. That was all we had, and we gave everything we had to it. Maybe that's how these big iconic bands feel about those records, too. Perhaps that's how James Hetfield feels when we talk about Kill 'Em All. That album was probably the last moment many people had of having us as their band that their little brother didn't know about. I have those feelings about certain bands, too. 'This band was mine. That was the last time I could talk about them at school without anyone knowing who the fuck I was talking about.' That was the case with Take This To Your Grave.

TROHMAN: Before Save Rock N' Roll, there was a rumor that we would come back with one new song and then do a Take This To Your Grave tenth-anniversary tour. But we weren't going to do what people thought we would do. We weren't going to [wear out] our old material by just returning from the hiatus with a Take This To Your Grave tour.

WENTZ: We've been asked why we haven't done a Take This To Your Grave tour. In some ways, it's more respectful not to do that. It would feel like we were taking advantage of where that record sits, what it means to people and us.

HURLEY: When Metallica released Death Magnetic, I loved the record, but I feel like Load and Reload were better in a way, because you knew that's what they wanted to do.

TROHMAN: Some people want us to make Grave again, but I'm not 17. It would be hard to do something like that without it being contrived. Were proud of those songs. We know that’s where we came from. We know the album is an important part of our history.

STUMP: There's always going to be a Take This To Your Grave purist fan who wants that forever: But no matter what we do, we cannot give you 2003. It'll never happen again. I know the feeling, because I've lived it with my favorite bands, too. But there's a whole other chunk of our fans who have grown with us and followed this journey we're on. We were this happy accident that somehow came together. It’s tempting to plagarize yourself. But it’s way more satisfying and exciting to surprise yourself.

MCILRITH: Fall Out Boy is an important band for so many reasons. I know people don't expect the singer of Rise Against to say that, but they really are. If nothing else, they created so much dialog and conversation within not just a scene but an international scene. They were smart. They got accused of being this kiddie pop punk band, but they did smart things with their success. I say that, especially as a guy who grew up playing in the same Chicago hardcore bands that would go on and confront be-ing a part of mainstream music. Mainstream music and the mainstream world are machines that can chew your band up if you don't have your head on straight when you get into it. It's a fast-moving river, and you need to know what direction you're going in before you get into it. If you don't and you hesitate, it'll take you for a ride. Knowing those guys, they went into it with a really good idea. That's something that the hardcore instilled in all of us. Knowing where you stand on those things, we cut our teeth on the hardcore scene, and it made us ready for anything that the world could throw at us, including the giant music industry.

#long post #lke. VERY long post #fall out boy #fob #take this to your grave #tttyg #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley #if theres any typos lmk and i'll fix em this. hust took fucking forever to transcribe.

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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months

Text

Tennessee Whiskey

Pairing: Country Singer!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: PG-17

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: None really, just language, the dickhead known as Rhett

Requested: Yes/No

Songs: Save a Horse, Ride a cowboy by Big & Rich, Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts, She's Country by Jason Aldean, What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts, All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood, Jolene by Dolly Parton, Bless these Broken Roads by Rascal Flatts, Fancy by Reba McEntire, What Ifs by Kane Brown

Synopsis: You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

Some country songs just write themselves

A/N: I want to thank @monzamash for giving me the idea of how they met but also @vintaqestar for fueling this even more. And also Chris Stapleton for me listening to song and giving me the inpsiration. @bibissparkles

"Welcome to Nashville," Lando smiles brightly at the older gentleman holding his hand.

Nashville, Tennessee. That's where Lando was currently, here for a Jack Daniel's event. He's never been to Nashville, but he is standing in the back room of a cramped yet packed bar. Jack was releasing a new bottle, a special one with McLaren on it. Fans and nonfans alike were here for the event.

He was also told that some country singers would be there. The base was thumping, and the thick smell of smoke and alcohol had his throat tightening. Oscar was leaning against a wall, probably not wise as Lando had touched it, and it was sticky. Yet, Oscar looked the most relaxed Lando had ever seen.

"You bunch sure know how to throw a party," Oscar voices, a little louder than usual. But with the southern drawl of some singer, a song about a tractor that is somehow sexy. "How is a tractor sexy?" Lando whispers, lips right against Oscar's ear. The Aussie turns and shrugs his shoulder. "I don't think they care, look." Oscar points to the crowd.

Oscar was right; Lando was watching people sing and do some type of synchronized dancing. "What are they doing?" The older gentleman, whose name Lando couldn't remember, something like Dan, laughed loudly. "It's called line dancing." Oscar and Lando share a look and just shrug their shoulders. "When do we go out?" Oscar asks, but Dan waves his hand.

"Ah hell, you ain't gonna go on stage, boys; you're behind the bar. We don't showboat out here. Unless you're like them," Dan, maybe Cash, points, and Lando looks over. He sucks in a breath seeing a woman holding a torched guitar. It was gorgeous, with dark wood, but through the low lights, it looked like fire was taken to give it this smokey look. "That's The Cadillac's. A new band, but damn, they think they're going to clean house at the CMA's." Dan yells, tipping his hat.

Lando stopped listening, though, unable to take his eyes off the woman with the guitar. With their hair pulled back and a black cowboy hat placed on their head. Oscar looks over at what has Lando's attention and chuckles. "Hey, who is that?" Oscar asks, pointing to who Lando is staring at. "Eh, oh, that's Y/n L/n, the lead singer. Sweet, sweet girl. Born and raised here in the south, want me to introduce you two?" "Yes," "No," Oscar and Lando answer simultaneously.

"Excuse Lando, he gets nervous meeting new people. We'd love to meet them." Oscar chuckles, and Dan smiles and pulls the two drivers over.

"Honestly, what even is a McLaren?" Your drummer, Cassie asks, fixing her belt buckle. She earned something from Barrel Racin and would cut anyone for touching it. "I think it's a type of car, Y/N?" You whip your head up at your bassist Judd asks, poking you. "What? Yeah, it's a car, but this is for Formula 1. I said yes to this cause it's Jackie's bar. We started here, guys; just be polite." You urge knowing that Cassie and Judd tended to get in some trouble.

"We'll be on our best behavior, ma'am." Judd tips his hat, and you just roll your eyes. "Kids!" You three turn, seeing Jackie barreling towards you with two young men dressed in Vols orange. "Y/n, this is Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri; they're the drivers for this fancy party." Jackie laughs and pats the one named Lando on the back. "Nice to meet ya'll," You stick out your hand.

Lando mumbles back a hello but doesn't shake your hand. "Oscar," You turn, and what you assume is the oldest of the two shakes your hand. "Y/n, nice to meet ya." Oscar smiles, but you turn back to Lando and give him a small smile. "Well, um, catch ya later." You clear your throat, and Lando looks up and nods.

"Yeah, gotta a crowd to sing to," Judd places his arm over your shoulders, and you can tell he is staring down at Lando. "And I gotta get these boys behind the bar," You wave off Jackie, smile at Lando, and nod your head at Oscar as you three take the stage.

Lando jumps a little at the roar that builds into the building, even on the street. This place was shaking alone with just the cheer of the crowd. "Here, and don't worry about making difficult orders, just the ones with the new whiskey. You two should be fine." Dan says, or Jackie, actually. "Thanks!" Oscar laughs as Lando can't pull his eyes off the stage.

"Hello, Nashville. Now, let's give a big warm welcome to our other half from across the pond. McLaren Formula 1 Team!" You scream; a bright light lands on Lando as people cheer, and Oscar has to nudge him to wave. "Alright, we're all here to drink but also dance, so let me introduce myself to you, lovely people. I'm Y/n, and we're The Cadillacs. We're gonna start off with a good one. So sing if you know it, dance, who cares." You laugh.

"I've known you since Brad and Angelina

We go back like Pontiac seats

If I got an aisle with a mess I gotta clean up

I know you'll be showin' up with bleach, hmm."

Lando smiles, hearing the opening lyrics, and people quickly move, grabbing someone to dance with as the sound of the violin and guitar complement one another.

All those names that we don't ever speak of

Got a couple nights that have slipped my mind

Proof and photographs have been deleted

If you ever needed an alibi

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

"Hey, can I get a whiskey sour?" Someone yells, and Lando snaps his head away from you and to the woman before him, and he nods. Lando hums along, even going as far as to tap his foot to the beat.

It's a good thing we're each other's kinda crazy

Ain't no judgment or keepin' score

If you rob a bank, I'm your getaway Mercedes

God knows that's what friends are for

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too, yeah

"They're pretty good. The crowd loves them!" Oscar yells, handing off 3 beers, and the cowboys yell and head off, the crowd growing more with each passing minute. Like the music was drawing them in more than them. Which was probably true.

I keep all your secrets by the dozen

You know where my skeletons sleep

Hypothetically, if you ever kill your husband

Hand on the Bible, I'd be lyin' through my teeth

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

Our bodies are buried, and they're in the same ditch

So even if I wanted to, I can't snitch

30 to life would go quicker with you, yeah

Smiling at the crowd, you can't help but pull your attention to the bar, seeing Lando bop his head and smile brightly. You feel this lightness in your chest when you see his smile; he is adorable. But he was also gorgeous in this unique way; you could stare at him for hours. Unsure why, you're glad he was enjoying your song, which was currently snug at number 1 in the charts.

So, if you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too

You finish off the ending and sigh as the crowd roars, and you scan it and see Lando smiling and clapping loudly. You blush and look back at the crowd and then at Judd and Cassie. "Hey? One of the oldies?" You ask, knowing the crowd would love it. "Fuck yeah!" Judd laughs, knowing the next song is about your ex. A nasty piece of work.

"Alright, one more 'cause we've got some great talent here. Now, how about a song warning men what happens when you cheat on a good ole southern girl?" You laugh seeing men groan, but the woman jumping up and down. This was the song that catapulted your career.

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp

And she's probably gettin' frisky

Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick

Showin' her how to shoot a combo

And he doesn't know

Lando's eyes snap up at you on the stage, hearing the dark rumble change in how you started to change and how you give yourself a deep southern drawl. Lando laughs as he watches you lean into the song, singing your heart out as you hit each note with emotions. Lando shudders, hating to be the guy this song was written about.

He doesn't know how it happened, but Lando ends up singing along with the crowd and starts to jump when Cassie hits the drums and joins in on the chorus. "Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats!" Lando yells and watches the stage go dark. "Damn, the group got a new fan?" Lando blushes when Oscar nudges him, but he just looks away. Something about you was pulling him in.

"I sure hope so!" Lando jumps, hearing your accent right there. Damn, you looked good. Lando melted slightly with a light shine to your skin, hair a little messy, and cheeks wide from your smile. "Want some water?" Lando freezes, hating that's what he started with. You giggle and lean over the bar, not caring for the way your skin is sucked into it now. "How about a double shot of whiskey? Think ya could do that?" You ask, staring at Lando.

"Yeah," He breathes, and you giggle, jumping back down as you watch him move behind the bar and fix the drink. "Hey, how old are you?" Oscar turns and gives a lopsided grin. "I'm 22, Lando is 24." Your eyes grow wide, hearing that Lando is the oldest among them. "Really? For sure, I thought it was you." You laugh, Lando blushing even harder.

"Here," He slides the glass over, and you smile, taking a sip. "Damn, good whiskey." Lando chuckles and hands off some other drinks. "So, what is Formula 1?" Lando turns, and you swear you feel your chest flutter. He had gorgeous eyes that were the perfect blend of blue and green. "It's international racing," "So you travel the world? That's gotta be fun," You yell as people cheer for the next act.

"I guess! It's tiring after a while, but we meet cool people." Lando leans onto the counter, giving you a little smirk. "Am I one of those cool people?" You flirt. Lando chuckles and looks away with a blush. "Yeah," He breathes. "Yeah, you are." Taking another sip of your whiskey, you put it down and lean in. "Good, 'cause I think you're pretty cool too."

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

"Damn, they sure know how to party." Oscar groans, rolling his neck as Lando helps you pack up. "It's the southern, just be happy football wasn't going on." Judd laughs, slapping the poor kid on the back. Oscar, much smaller than your bassist stumbles forward. "And we have to do this all over again Friday." Cassie sighs, pulling her jet black hair out of its braids.

"Hey, if you're not doing anything, um, would you like to join us for the week?" You ask, fiddling with your fingers. Lando looks up, Oscar being pulled away by Judd and Cassie like he was a little boy. "Um, I'd have to check my schedule." He mumbles, wondering what exactly McLaren would have him do until Friday.

"Oh, yeah, you're probably busy." You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Nope, he's not busy. As long as you have him back by Friday night, you can keep him." Lando jumps, seeing Jon there all of a sudden. "Where'd you come from?" Lando squeaks, feeling bashful as if a parent just caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. "The hotel and Miss. L/n, whatever you want to do with him, go crazy." Jon smiles and slaps his hands down on Lando's shoulders.

"Well," Lando can see your confidence inflate again and smiles, feeling himself grow comfortable. "How about showing this Brit the southern life? We're going back to my ranch upstate; how about it?" You ask, leaning against a speaker. Lando thinks it over, though he wants to say yes immediately. "Yes, I'd love to." Your smile grows so that even your cheeks puff out.

"Great, I might want to say your goodbyes now. There is no cell service in those parts. Real nice," Lando pulls out his phone and hands it to Jon. "No need for cell service when you've got no phone." Judd laughs and tips his hat. "I like you," Lando nods in agreement, and Jon makes a noise. "Just tell Zak, well, I don't know, but tell him I would get injured." "Yeah, we won't have a pretty boy here riding horses," Cassie calls, and Jon looks between you and Lando.

"Alright, just be careful." Jon waves Oscar over, who gives Lando a thumbs up and out of the bar. Lando chuckles and turns, balking when Judd is staring at him. "You stick out like a sore thumb." Judd muses, ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "Hey, Y/n, pretty boy here should change, don't you think? Or else those fans of him will totally notice him." You haul up your guitar and look him over.

Black joggers, a bright neon papaya sweatshirt, and black sneakers. "Do you own jeans?" Lando nods, but Cassie snorts. "Not skinny jeans, like wranglers or something?" She walks around him, checking him out. "Um, no?" "Well, we hit Broadway and get him a new fit." Judd muses, and you blush; Lando would look good in a cowboy hat.

"Come on," You finish loading everything up and watch the trunk pull off, leaving you four outside. Lando follows you, but you reach back and lace your fingers together. "Careful around here. Drunks and others won't hesitate to pickpocket ya. So, stay close." Lando doesn't even bother pulling his hand away, loving the weight of yours in his. "In here," Judd shoves you 3 into the door and laughs when you stumble into the store owner glaring but stop seeing who it is.

"Judy boy!" "What up, old man? Think you can do a makeover here for our boy!" Judd points behind him, and the owner looks him over. "Of course, bring him here." Lando doesn't know what happened, only that he's shoved into a room and returned wearing a black t-shirt, cowboy-cut jeans, and perfectly fitted black cowboy boots. "Now, the hat." Judd muses, and you giggle, sitting on a stool.

"Lookin good," Lando turns and stutters, seeing your hair free. Wow, he was awestruck by you, hat off, and he finally got an honest look at you. "Pretty," He whispers, and Cassie snorts but muffles it when Judd glares her. "Hey, Bud, add in some orange, will ya'? It's um, shit, forgot your name, pretty boy." Judd laughs, and Lando can't help but join in. "Lando," You and Lando say at the same time.

You look away when Bud starts to make the hat, and Lando can't help but turn to you. "What got you into singing?" You look up and smile, and Lando knows that smile. It was the smile of someone who remembered their first time falling in love. "My daddy, he was a farmer. I'm the oldest, so he'd wake me up, and we'd check the fields together. Every morning before school, no matter the rain, sun, or cold, it didn't matter. It was hard work, but he'd have this little radio. He'd turn it on, and we'd sing together. Some of the best memories I have are with that old bugger." You smile, looking down.

"Does he come to your shows?" You take a deep breath and clear your throat. "No, not anymore. He passed about 3 years ago." Lando curses himself, but he stops seeing your soft smile. "He's not in person, but I have him onstage with me for each show. The guitar I got?" Lando nods, knowing the one; it looked old but was a gorgeous piece. "He gave it to me, same as my hat." You jump off the stole and rock forward to lean on the counter.

"Almost done there, Bud? We gotta long drive home," You yell, and Bud just curses you, but you giggle and bump your shoulders into Lando's.

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

"Wakey, wakey," Lando groans, feeling something wet touch his face, and he pats it away. "Lando, come on, you gotta wake up." "Mhn go away Osc," Lando hears Oscar tsk and kicks him, rolling off the bed with a screech. "What the hell, mate!" Instead of Oscar, all 6'4 of Judd stood a very shirtless Judd. "Breakfast will be gone soon; it's better to go eat. Then we can go," Judd leaves the room, and Lando turns, seeing the large Bluetick Coonhound named Rusty staring at him.

"Don't drool on me, please," Rusty opens his mouth and barks loudly, with Lando chuckling, "Yeah, yeah, alright." Lando stands and moves, staring at the new clothes given to him. Sliding in jeans and a t-shirt, he threw on the baseball cap and walked out barefoot. "Good morning," you sing, and Lando sighs; he could get used to this.

"Judd said we're going somewhere?" You turn and smile. "We're going fishing." Lando makes a disgusted face that has Cassie spitting out her coffee. "Oh shit, if he makes that face again, I'll piss myself.' Cassie cackles, which has Judd chuckling as well. "Scared of a little fishie?" "They're disgusting." You shake your head as Lando shivers.

"Really? You at them just fine last night." Slapping your spatula down, you see Judd with a blank face. "Judd," You hiss, "Hey, don't pass out, pretty boy," You turn and gasp, seeing Lando whiter than white. "Lando, he's joking. We didn't fish last night. It's just a joke." You plead and help him sit down on a stool. "Promise? Promise that wasn't fish?" He asks, eyes wide, and you bite your bottom lip. "I promise that wasn't fish." You explain; great, now you'd have to lie about what Bass was for the rest of his life.

"Shit," Judd chokes into his mug, and you glare at him. "Go take the dog out," You hiss and watch as Judd takes Rusty out. "Don't you have something to do as well? You've already eaten." You point to Cassie, who looks up and groans. "But, I want more." She whines, and you huff, "It's for Lando and me. Now go." Cassie huffs and shoves on her boots and stalks off outside into the cool air.

"Was it really fish?" Lando asks, and you look down. The poor boy's lips were swollen from chewing on them, and his eyes were wide. "No, it wasn't fish. Judd was just fucking with you." You giggle, trying so hard to not laugh. "Good, 'cause last night was good, but if it was fish, ugh." Lando sticks out his tongue, and you turn back to ensure you didn't fire the bacon.

"Okay, well, how about getting me the orange juice. Coffee?" You ask, pointing at the pot, and he shakes his head. "Don't drink it; I'll take the juice, though." He opens the fridge and grabs it, pouring two glasses. "I'm glad you know how to cook, I suck at it." You snort on a laugh and flip the bacon. "I'll teach you how to make eggs." Your grandma would always tell you someone needed to know how to cook at least one thing. "I'll burn the house down." But you roll your eyes. "I highly doubt that."

"Now, grab me four eggs," You point to the cart. "Crack them open into that bowl and then scramble them." You instruct. Lando cracks them open but stops staring at them. "Do I shake them?" You laugh, plate the bacon, and turn the eye down. "No, take that fork and stir hard, but not too hard. You get them everywhere." You instruct and go to the oven and take out four fluffy biscuits.

Lando nods and stirs the eggs, and you watch, ensuring he doesn't make a mess. "Perfect," You wipe your hands and turn the eye of the stove back on. "Now, come here." Lando walks over, and you giggle. "With the eggs, Lando." "Right, knew that," He mumbles and grabs the bowl, and you place him in front of the stove. "Next step, pour the eggs in. Some spray the pan, but I just finished cookin bacon, and the grease will add extra flavor." "Jesus, this one meal will fuck up my diet." "Stop," You pinch his side, and he yelps, but you both start laughing.

"Okay, pour the eggs," Lando does as you say, and you grab a plastic spoon and hand it to him. "wait a minute. then take the spoon, pull the eggs off the ring of the pan, and start bunching them up, and then like you were stirring them, it'll break them up." You explain and watch as Lando does as you say. "Stop, that's perfect." You take the pan, add fresh eggs to the plate, and smile. "And there you go, you just made eggs." Lando smiles brightly and leans forward but stops and pulls back.

Clearing his throat, he smiles and grabs your plates. "Where, too?" He asks, and you point outside, cursing yourself for thinking he would kiss you. You two just met; why would he do that. Pushing the screen door open and hearing the comforting snap of it, you groan. "Woooo, that was painful," You turn and see Judd leaning on the counter.

"Fuck off, Judy," But it had no bite to it. "Hey, just sayin, but he was going to kiss you." Judd winks and walks off, heading somewhere deep into the cabin. Rolling your eyes, you grab your orange juice cups and see Lando sitting on the outside bar, watching the sunrise. "This is wish when I had my phone, to take pictures of this." You set the cups down, sliding into your own chair. "No, you don't. It's stuff like this you don't want your phone for. Just enjoy." You grumble and bite into your eggs, and Lando shrugs.

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

"I thought you meant fishing on a boat?" Lando groans, trudging through the woods. "Hell no, a bunch of tourists are here, and this is a secret little place Y/n and I found as kids. So be nice. We don't tell anyone about this place." Cassie yells back, and you giggle at Lando's long sigh. "Why'd you bring the guitar?" Lando asks you, seeing the soft cover hanging off your back. "Sometimes, being out here gives me good inspiration." Lando hums and sees Cassie and Judd stop.

"Finally," "Nuhuh, pretty boy. You and Y/n are going further up." Judd boops Lando's nose, who whimpers and hangs his head. "Aren't you supposed to be an athlete? Where's that stamina?" Judd teases. "I'm not built to dig around the southern woods, much less in these temps." "Stop your complaining and go," Judd shoves Lando, and you two walk further from there.

"They're fishing; we're just going to relax upriver. Or did you really think we'd make you fish?" Lando thinks it over and then sees you're not carrying fishing poles and that Cassie and Judd had most of them. "Oh, didn't even cross my mind, honestly." Smiling, you lead the way and stop seeing the clearing that has the river in front of it. "Hey, Whiskey, tell me we can stop now." Lando groans, and you turn, confused at who he is talking to. "What?" Lando looks up and stops. "Whiskey, it's your nickname. Since the first thing that got you and me talking was whiskey." You're glad your face is already flushed, or Lando would see the giant blush covering your entire face.

"Oh, uh, ahaha yeah, we can stop here." You place your guitar down, fluff out the blanket, and grab bug spray and sunscreen. "Come here. You'll cook like cornbread in a cast iron." Lando turns with confusion on his face that has you smiling. "You'll burn Lando. Come here so I can put sunscreen on you." You explain as he shrugs off his shirt. "Shit," You whisper, and his eyes cast up. "What? Something wrong?" As he spins around looking for something.

"Wha, oh no, nothing, here." You hand the sunscreen to him, looking away from him. Lando takes it and smiles as he sprays everything on you. Removing your top, he easily applies it to you as well.

You don't know how much time passes under the southern sun, but the soft breeze makes it bearable for you and Lando. "What are you writing?" His voice was smooth, like the wind was barely touching you. "A new song," You reply and scratch out some words. "Well, I figured that, Whiskey, but I meant, what exactly are you writing?" Lando rolls over onto his stomach, hands under his chin as he looks up at you through his lashes. "Oh, well, it's something new. I doubt the fans would like it." You comment, fixing the guitar settled on your knee.

"That I doubt. I don't usually listen to country, but if from the songs I've heard from you if this new song is anything like the ones I know, people will love it." Lando smiles, smile brighter than the damn sun. "Yeah, well, Rhett would disagree with you there." You snort, "Whose Rhett?" Lando sits up now, eyebrows bunched.

"My ex, he's a bull rider. Cassie's older brother," You add on, and Lando rolls his eyes. "Well, Rhett is a jackass." You giggle and look at him. "You don't even know him," "I know he clearly didn't support you. Your new song will be awesome. Play it for me." Lando scoots closer, and you lean back, unsure if you should. "It's different," You whisper.

"Different is good. It heals the soul sometimes. Now, play." Lando demands, eyes boring into yours. "Fine." You grumble and peel the guitar off your sweaty knee onto your lap. "It'd sound better with my electric guitar, okay, just don't judge." You warn, but Lando shakes his head no. "I'd never judge you, Whiskey."

Okay," You take a deep breath, strum the first couple of strings, and start singing the words.

Used to spend my nights out in a barroom

Liquor was the only love I'd known

But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom

And brought me back from bein' too far gone

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

I've looked for love in all the same old places

Found the bottom of a bottle's always dry

But when you poured out your heart, I didn't waste it

'Cause there's nothin' like your love to get me high

And you're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

When you finish, you sigh and look at Lando, who is staring at you. "Ugh, god, I knew it! This song sucks. Listen, there is supposed to be a guitar solo, and I probably won't even give it my record. Ugh!" You yell and flop back, squinting at the sun. "That was," you brace yourself for the lashing for how different it wasn't you or the image you were giving the world. It was different, and people would stop listening to you and the band.

"THE BEST SONG EVERY" "What!" You sit up as Lando launches himself at you, pushing you back down and hovering over you. You swallow hard, focusing on his chain dangling around his neck. "Whiskey, that was fabulous. You have to give your record label that song. And finish it; I want to hear all of it, promise me." He pleads, and you nod your head as he pulls off you; sitting up, you blink, trying to control the urge to devour his lips.

"Oi! Love birds, time to go in. Can smell the rain coming!" Lando hops up and nods as you just quietly pack up your guitar. Lando walks past, but Judd stops you. "Do I need to kick his ass?" He whispers, and you shake your head. "No," "Then what's wrong, Y/n?" "He believes in me," Judd lets his hand slip, and you walk off, leaving your friend smirking.

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

"Ugh, I'm stuffed. Seriously, tell me what this is." Lando gives Cassie and Judd puppy eyes, but they just share a look and quickly snatch all the plates. "Nope," Lando deflates and groans, and goes over to the radio and turns it up slightly. The storm and music make a perfect blend. You four were out under the tin roof of the large porch. It was about 12 ft by 12ft and had a built-in fireplace.

It was where your grandpa would come and pick with his band, and now, where you sit and do the same thing. You swear, sometimes you can still hear that damn banjo or violin. You lean back in your rocking chair, the same one he sat in and taught you how to play, Lando coming up and sitting beside you.

"Friday is in 4 days," He whispers, and you clear your throat, hating the thought of Lando leaving. "I know, and it's probably best we get there early." You reply, tightening your hand on the beer bottle. "Teach me how to dance." You turn, shocked by the change of subject. "Judd told me you're taking me to some get-together and that there will be line dancing. So teach me." You blink at him and sigh, "I don't know how to." Lando chuckles and stands.

"Okay, then just dance with me." Lando holds his hand out to you, staring at you, gently lacing your fingers together. Lando tugs you up, and you quickly melt together as you don't listen to the music. Just the way his hand holds yours and the weight of his arm on your waist. "Screw it," You whisper and place your head on his shoulder, nose brushing his neck. "I have to leave for Begas after Friday's event." "Be quiet." Not wanting to hear about him leaving.

"Whiskey, I don't want to leave, but you know," "Lando, just dance with me." You whisper, effectively making the Brit snap his mouth closed.

"Judy," Cassie whispers and gently pokes Judd, who groans and opens his eyes. "What," He grumbles and yawns stretching. "Think it's about him?" Cassie whispers, and Judd turns his head and sees you and Lando dancing more to the pounding sound of rain and thunder.

"What's about him?" Judd reaches over, snatches Cassie's opened beer, and sips. "That song she's writing, the one she stopped. I bet it is; she's never really experienced love." Cassie whispers, and Judd rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I wonder whose fault it is." Cassie flinches, knowing her brother Rhett really fucked you up, something she regrets every day.

"He's different." Judd looks over and watches as Lando kisses your forehead softly and closes his eyes, leaning more into you. "I sure hope so; I'd hate to bury him in the backyard."

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

"It's loud in here!" Lando yells, which has you and your friends laugh. "Seriously? You had us buy a race and listen to real F1 cars, and you say this is loud?" You yell in his ear, Lando's arm tightening into your side. "Yeah, well, we get earbuds!" Lando screams, fixing his cowboy hat. A black one with an orange string tied around it. Other than that, it looked average. Judd had picked out Lando's outfit, reminding you why you loved your best friend so much.

Lando was wearing a white button-down with a couple of buttons undone to show off his various necklaces and had black jeans paired with it; they hugged his thighs and ass so perfectly that even Cassie stared. He wore the cowboy boots you bought for him, and you giggled; he looked a little silly with the hat, but he loved the hat and refused to go without it.

"Now, can we dance?" He points to the line dance. It was to the song Country Girl by Luke Bryan, and you laugh, shaking your head no. "Hell no, I'll trip." Lando chuckles as Judd ushers you to your booth and makes you and Lando sit inside. "Okay, but just once, dance like that! Promise?" You just nod in agreement even though you were dreading the thought.

It was 2 hours of Lando begging and getting 2 dances in with Judd and Cassie that you stood, and his eyes lit up. "I'm getting us another round." Lando deflats but nods and kisses your cheek. Jolene by Dolly Parton comes on, and you run to the bar smiling and breathless. "Hey, can I get 2 beers and a double shot of JD?" The bartender turns and nods their head.

"Still drinking like a man huh?" That voice, that voice still had your body freeze up. Fuck, what was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Texas for a competition. "What? Not going to turn around?" You shudder and turn, coming face to face with your ex, Rhett. "Rhett," Breathing out his name felt like fire on your tongue. "If it isn't my sweet baby, missed me?" He asks and leans against the bar. "Fuck off," You turn to leave, not even caring for the drinks anymore.

"Now, now, sweets. Come here. Still trying to act like that tough girl when we both know you're still that little girl inside." He hisses, tightening his grip on you. "Let me go. I'm here with someone." "Really? You aren't wearing his hat."

Judd looks over, wondering where you could take so long and tense. "Fuck, Cassie, goddammit. Your brother is here." Cassie's eyes pull away from the blonde girl beside her, and she groans. "Dammit," Cassie groans and pulls away from the girl and stands. "Whose that?" Lando asks, hearing not the best. "That would be my dickwaffle of a brother, Rhett. Y/n's ex." Lando feels anger course through his blood. "Yeah, well, you know that 2nd song we sang at the party?" Judd asks, taking off his hat and fixing his rings. "Yeah, the one about the cheating?" Lando asks, "That was about Rhett," Judd adds, and Lando moves quickly to your side.

You feel a presence beside you and suddenly feel the heavy weight of a hat on your head. "Now, she's wearing my hat. Now let go of my girl, right now." You turn, seeing Lando and sag into his side as Rhett drips his hand. "Really? This little boy? Oh, how your taste has fallen," Rhett gets in your face, but Lando effortlessly shoves Rhett back and pushes you behind his back.

"The only little boy I see here is you, you shriveled 2-inch dick. Get the fuck out of here," Lando seethes, and you have to smother your laughter as Judd steps up behind you and Lando easily towering over you both. Rhett blanches, knowing Judd would easily slaughter him. "Whatever, enjoy my leftovers." "I do, and I eat her out every night." Lando spits without thinking twice. You blush and move, hugging his back as you hide your face. Lando moves, covering your hands with his one large hand.

"Mr.Norris, I think you've earned yourself a dance." You whisper, causing Lando to spin around and smile. "Really? Well, let me do the honors, darlin'." You laugh at his fake accent. "So bad," You laugh as he tugs you into his arms, leading you to the dance floor. "Stay there!" You yell and run up to the DJ booth. Lance watches as you lean over, and he's never been happier about you wearing tight jeans and a loose top. You looked damn good.

Running back over, you keep Lando's hat on your head and see everyone clearing out, and the people who enjoy line dancing come back out. "Aight, this one is for our special guest, Miss. Y/n L/n herself," A roar surrounds you two as you turn and wave and turn to Lando. "Judd taught me this one when we were teens, so just don't judge. "This song is for you," You hear the familiar DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaaaa DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaDaaDaaDaaaa feels your ears and Lando whips his head to you.

"Are you serious? You know this song!" And Lando gets a cheeky smirk on his face. "Remind me to introduce you to Daniel one day." Rolling your eyes, the heavy guitar beat hits, and you tell Lando to follow your movement. Stepping forward and then back, Lando moves with you.

Well, I walk into the room

Passing out hundred dollar bills

And it kills and it thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill

And I buy the bar a double round of crown

And everybody's getting down

An' this town ain't never gonna be the same

With the lyrics, you laugh and step side and then jump and turn, shuffling your feet forward like a horse walking. Lando laughs, head back as he does it as well.

'Cause I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Getting to the chorus was always your favorite part. Hearing the line, you take off the hat, as does every other female, and some guys swing the hat around and stop. Lando laughs but you stop him, "Only those that ride do that part." Lando's eyes widened, and you smirked, glad you could catch him off guard. "I think I've got it now." He yells.

Well I don't give a dang about nothing

I'm singing and Bling-Blinging

While the girls are drinking

Long necks down!

And I wouldn't trade ol' Leroy

Or my Chevrolet for your Escalade

Or your freak parade

I'm the only John Wayne left in this town

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

You and Lando dance as his arms wrap around you, and you two do the moves in sync as he catches on quickly. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" You two scream, and you swing the hat and pull him close, Lando leaning in to kiss you, but you pull back, kick up your right heel, and go back to the moves.

I'm a thourough-bred that's what she said

In the back of my truck bed

As I was gettin' buzzed on suds

Out on some back country road

We where flying high Fine as wine

Having ourselves a big and rich time

And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation

Had me begging for salvation all night long

So I took her out giggin frogs

Introduced her to my old bird dog

And sang her every Wilie Nelson song I could think of

And we made love

"Does that mean I'm your thoroughbred?" Lando jokes, but his voice reaches a deeper tune, and you turn, smirking. "Why? Wanna be?" You ask, making the moves backward as Lando pulls you in.

And we made love

And I saddled up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

What? What?

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Lando leans in, and so do you; this time, there are no interruptions as Lando captures your lips, and you melt into him. You never understood some country songs about love, having thought you might experience it with a true southern boy like Rhett. But who would've thought you'd feel it was some Brit. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy," Lando whispers, pulling away, and you giggle. "Earn that belt buckle first, big boy, and then we'll see." Lando bursts out laughing, a high-pitched, gasping one that makes you laugh hard as the beat fades.

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

Lando stands in the bar, the same one just a week ago, and you two stand in your same spots, but this time you don't wear your daddy's hat; instead, you're wearing Lando's and possibly the white dress shirt from last night. "Is that your shirt?" Oscar asks, and Lando turns and shrugs but knowing damn well it was.

"It sucks we won't be able to see them again?" Lando tunes it out. You and he talked about it last night. And you both knew that this could work; besides, he was your country song, and you his Whiskey; you two weren't goin nowhere. "Yeah right; JD was so damn happy with their show they invited them to their private booth for Vegas," Jackie yells, and Lando smirks and moves through the darkness.

You yelp when cold hands touch your skin, and you turn, smirking when you see those sea-green eyes you love so much. "So Vegas, uh?" He asks, and you sigh rolling your eyes. "Yeah, Judd wants to go." "Really not to see me?" "Okay, maybe you too." You tease, and Lando nods and leans in, kissing you gently before pulling.

"So, how about it's only fair you spend a week in my world now?" You think it over, wrap your arms around his shoulders and nod. "Only fair," "Yeah, only fair." You muse and hear gagging beside you and turn, glaring at Cassie, who is wearing round pink-tinted glasses. "You two make me sick. Bad enough, we heard you all last night; now we gotta see this?" Cassie groans while Judd cackles.

"Leave the kids alone, grandma. They're in love." "What'd you just call me?" Judd yelps as Cassie smacks him hard with her drumstick. Turning back, you face Lando. "Tell me your coworkers aren't like this?" Lando laughs nervously and shrugs. "We're totally fucked," Lando and you giggle as you hear Jackie yell loudly, introducing you 3, bringing back a sense of deja vu.

But you knew the cute Brit behind the bar was coming home with you this time. "Go kill it, Whiskey." Running onto the stage, you smile into the bright spotlight. "Alright, we're starting off with something new. It's called Tennessee Whiskey,"

545 notes · View notes

bloodybreakupscene · 11 months

Text

-> 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

miles morales x reader

-> miles having a crush on a bakery worker!! r y'all soulmates or what? (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

-> idea was cute and also i just [re]watched both movies so plz send requests pretty please >__< !! totally not inspired by the song she lives on my block by chicano batman

"miles! can you pick up the—" rio, miles' mother, called from the kitchen, she was currently on the phone with someone as she was cooking.

"the cake? yeah i got it!" he unintentionally interrupted his mom while he walked downstairs putting his jacket on. his footsteps on the stairs making a squeaking sound as he traveled down.

"aye, this boy. be quick, your father will be home soon!" she ushered miles out the door, father's day was today and they wanted to do something special for him.

just before he exits his apartment he grabs his bag, waving 'bye' to his mom. he runs as quickly as he can down the stairs so he can reach the bakery faster. he contemplates putting his suit on and swinging to the location instead but he didn't feel like changing.

miles puts his headphones on and saunters hurriedly through the crowds of people that seemed to come out of nowhere. he sees some people he knows and waves to them, making small conversations with some. just as he reaches the bakery door, he checks himself out in one of the windows.

'i got this,' he thinks as he fixes his outfit and hair in the mirror. his thoughts stop as one of the workers sprays cleaner on the window, wiping the area where his face was. they looked at him confused with an eyebrow raised and all he could respond with was an awkward smile, before walking in.

he shoves his hands in his pocket and walks towards the register where you were working, you looked up from the cash you were counting and instead, at him. he looks at you with lidded eyes as he leaned on the counter, smiling at you. not sure what the hell he was doing you asked,

"uh miles, do you need something?"

his expression changes and his normal happy expression was back, "oh, yeah! i'm here to pick up a cake for rio morales?"

"alright!" you proceeded into the back to look for a cake with the label rio morales, who you recognized to be miles' mom, who came in every once in while

as he saw you walk away he face palmed. 'what am i doing!? i can't do this.' he was sweating so bad, he just really liked you, if that wasn't obvious already. the other worker saw how nervous he was and walked up to him.

"miles."

"huh—? how do you know my name?" he questioned.

"same physics class? i sit next to you. . . ?" the worker said, slightly annoyed.

"oh yeah, yeah, i remember."

"you're trying too hard."

"excuse me?"

"you like (name) right?" worker dude, miles' forgotten classmate, states in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "they like you too, trust, just be you, man."

"okay, i got the cake, sorry it took kinda long, we have a ton of other orders." you laughed a bit at the end of your sentence as miles turned away from worker dude, who went back to cleaning.

"nah it's good, uh, totally random question…but are you free next sunday?" he says, taking the dessert from your hands.

"yeah," you said rather quietly before clearing your throat, "yeah, yeah i am, uh, why?"

"there's this movie i've been wanting to see for awhile, i got two tickets but ganke couldn't go, said something about working on a final." he smiles, holding the cake with one arm and fiddling with the zipper of his jacket with his other.

"oh! yeah i'd like to go." you responded, big smile plastered across your face.

"great, that's good, i'll text you the time, i could go over to your place! and we can walk there together." miles exclaims, an even bigger smile on his face.

"that sounds nice, can't wait." you giggled.

miles smiles, "well i got to go now, my mom's probably waiting for me." he begins to walk backwards confidently, before bumping into a table, almost knocking a napkin holder over, however he quickly grabbed it before it fell. he shoots you an awkward smile as he runs out the door.

"y'all are so corny." the worker rolls their eyes, putting the cleaning supplies away.

"you're just mad no one's asked you out yet." you shot back.

miles finally got back to his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

"miles?"

he sighed, looking up at the ceiling before turning around and facing both his parents.

"hi mamí, dad." he proceeds towards the table they sat at and put the cake down. "happy father's day!"

"why were you home so late? the bakery's what? ten minutes away? it's been an hour." rio asked, concerned.

"what's going on with you miles?" his father, jeff, said, backing up his wife.

"nothing! i was just, you know, talking with people!"

his mother gasped, both miles and jeff looked at her nervously.

"you were talking to that bakery worker, weren't you!"

"what–? miles, what's she talking about?" his father asks, confused.

"no i wasn—"

"our little boy's got a crush on that nice worker at the bakery! i always see his eyes turn into hearts when they walk by."

they both laugh aside from miles, who frowns and takes a seat, arms crossed.

#into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spiderman x you #beyond the spiderverse #sony spiderverse

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billvsgirl · 4 months

Text

the songbird : part one

summary ; reader is a beloved, headstrong singer at a saloon in new mexico. billy is just looking for somewhere to play some poker. it’s a match made in heaven.

warnings ; some heavy insinuation (only above the cut) but aside from that, none yet 👀 i dont know if you can classify this as a slow burn but it is for me because my writing stamina is weak as hell 😇 also i might have accidentally mary sue’d reader but thats my issue

also not beta read (im lazy)

author’s note ; HIII to anyone who’s reading this, i’m sorry in advance, this is my first time writing in a very long while so forgive me. if you have any comments or suggestions please let me know 🙏 i thank @goosita and @billysgun for inspiring me to write for billy (y’all always eat thank you for supplying me with the best billy fics) pls let me know if y’all wanna see more of this series and i’m open to requests !!! okay thats all tyty

—

billy pulled the door closed behind himself ever so carefully, making sure not to alert anyone else who might still be awake in the boarding house.

he turned towards the room to look at you; waiting infront of him expectantly- yet still a bit nervous, akin to a tense game of cards. it was his move now.

you leaned into his touch as he brought a hand up to caress your cheek, stroking gently with his thumb. “my beautiful girl,” he spoke softly, quirking the corners of his lips up into a smile.

“are you sure you’re alright with this, darlin’? we don’t have to.”

but oh, how you so desperately wanted to. because it was him, because it was billy.

he had wandered into your life by chance; a raggedy stray appearing in a saloon on a friday night, just looking to make some cash off of a game of poker.

you were there, too, hidden behind a humble stage curtain. you dusted some lint off of your dress and cleared your throat before donning your guitar and revealing yourself to the bar patrons with a confident, nearly sanguine smile.

“why hello there, everyone! d’ya miss me?”

and you had the instant attention of the majority of the tired souls in the saloon, ears and eyes becoming alert. if there weren’t smiles, there were whistles, cheers, claps- and other things inbetween.

there was no argument amongst the patrons that you were special. you held a strong and awfully charismatic persona when you were up on that stage, performing each weekend. when you had first started singing publicly, give or take a year or so ago, it took time for the people there to pay mind to you- but there was only so much they could do before your cadence, your charm, drew them in. and now, the townsfolk always looked forward to your appearances.

“oh please, don’t flatter me! it’ll all go to my head. how’s ‘bout we get to some songs instead, boys?”

a bit of soft laughter could be heard, dispersed throughout the room, before some more scattered claps- and a low chatter returned within the building while you propped yourself onto the stool at the center of the platform.

“learned this one from my father- i hope y’all enjoy it, an’ feel free to sing along if ya’ know it too.”

you began to strum, and the noise in the room lowered at your command. if anyone wasn’t paying attention before, they were now.

“O bury me not,”

and the raggedy stray finally looked up from his hand of cards, sapphire blue eyes taking in your beauty for the first time.

“on the lone prarie.”

your voice was amber honey flowing over a silver spoon, it was devistatingly sweet on the tongue, and all the more addicting. even the most haughty cowboys couldn’t help but lend an ear to you.

“these words came low, and mournfully

from the pallid lips of the youth who lay

on his dying bed at the close of day.”

of course, it didn’t hurt the fact that you were pretty. anyone would agree. but the men there stopped bothering you with crude requests and comments a long time ago- you’d established that it wouldn’t be tolerated, that you weren’t some woman of the night who’d play into the egos of these dogs who assumed they were above everyone else. and what were they to do?

nevertheless, you were alluring. you had a voice that charmed snakes and tempted songbirds to whistle along. so, eventually, they left you be. and that was the way it was.

“he had wasted and pined ‘til o’er his brow,

death’s shades were slowly gathering now

he thought of home and loved ones nigh

as the cowboys gathered to see him die.”

some of the patrons softly sang along to that folk song, including the one that sat a bit further from the stage, who had laid his cards aside later than the others.

he wasn’t fully aware of the small smile etched across face, but he was aware of the way your dress draped gracefully over your legs, the way your hair flowed freely upon your head, the way your eyelashes batted against your skin each time you blinked, the way your hands held your guitar.

he was well aware that he had not seen a lady like you before.

and well after you finished your set, and you had taken time to sit down at the bar and thank the bartender for your drink, he found it in himself to approach you.

and if you were a bit apprehensive, he took mind of that, and kept a small distance whilst lowering his hat from his head.

“hello, ma’am, how are you doin’ tonight?”

you couldn’t help but soften your hardened expression just a bit at the sight of him; eyes that bore right into your heart and pleaded innocence, even though you had heard the chatter throughout the bar that night;

that he had accumulated bounties, that he was a force not to be reckoned with,

that he was ‘dangerous.’

“quite alright, thank ya’, can i help you, cowboy?”

you were curious, but you weren’t downright stupid. you’d certainly dealt with worse, and the demeanor of this man begged that he had no distasteful intentions, but there was further convincing to be done for your guard to come down.

“i just wanted to say- you’ve got a real beautiful voice. it was a nice treat after the day i’ve had, ma’am.”

his voice was soft, and he carried himself well, though you could hear notes of nervousness in the way his breath hitched slightly halfway through his speech. you tilted your head a bit, furrowing your brows.

“you’re william bonney, isn’t that right?”

he shifted his stance, breaking eye contact to look down towards the hat he held in his hands. he cleared his throat and looked back up at you with a coy smile.

“yes’m, so you’ve heard- i’ve heard em’ talkin’ about you too, albeit, for much nicer reasons, miss y/n y/l/n.”

and if the way your name rolled off of his tongue made your cheeks a couple of shades pinker than usual, that was your business and nobody else’s.

he was good looking, that couldn’t be denied. good looking in the kind of way that carried much more depth than anyone you’d seen before. good looking in the way of his strikingly blue eyes, his brown hair that curled up at the ends, the button up shirt and pants that complimented his figure perfectly, his strong, yet softened, demeanor.

“so, s’it true? what they say about you?”

“depends what they’re sayin’, ma’am. maybe, maybe not.”

“well, are you as dangerous as they say you are?”

“only when i need to be, ma’am.”

he was definitely a gentleman- that, or he was putting up a real good act. it wasn’t often that you were approached out of genuine, unsolicited interest. but william- who now insisted you instead call him billy, went silent each time you even looked like you wanted to say something.

and on the two of you went, having conversation through the rest of the night. he didn’t let on about a lot of things, he’d gotten used to being a man of few words. he wanted to know everything about you- as much as you were comfortable saying. and to his delight, you had lots to say.

the both of you were a few drinks in by the time you were sat side by side, filling the near empty saloon with laughter.

“and- and then what?” his smile was sickeningly wide.

“well, my mama always told me i should never let a man use me as a doormat, so i grabbed my saddlebag an’ swatted him right in the groin!”

billy chuckled lightly, imagining that scenario before taking another sip of his whiskey.

“serves ‘m right, the men here know less a’ how to treat women than they do knowin’ when’s appropriate to draw a gun.” he huffed out.

you set your elbow on the counter, resting your head on your hand. “i bet your mama’s real proud a’ you, billy. she raised you just as anyone should.”

he held his smile for just a second before moving to look down at his glass. he remained silent for a few moments, and you followed suit, understanding why.

“m’ sorry, i didn’t know-“

“no, it’s alright,” he looked up at you, offering a smile once again. “i hope that she is. i’m always just trying my best to do what’s right- what’s just. sometimes the law doesn’t wanna paint it that way, but i know what i’ve seen and done.”

and you trusted his word. you had let your guard down like this for the first time possibly ever with anyone who wasn’t family. you and this raggedy stray were both different birds, flying far from the flock. having his company was something new, something exciting. and you hungered to know more.

#tom blyth #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid imagine #tbosas #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #billy the kid smut

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withacapitalp · 4 months

Text

All this was inspired by listening to She’s So Overrated by Madilyn Bailey so fair warning LMAO. Also this got SO MUCH LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO IM SORRY IT WAS JUST ME WRITING DOWN AN IDEA......

Okay so I’m having thoughts about modern AU lead singer Eddie Munson who’s been in the industry for years with the boys. Corroded Coffin is a staple of the metal industry, but for a few years he’s been feeling really stalled in his career and just stuck in place. He’s still making music, still performing, but he feels like he’s getting farther and farther from that kid who used to scream and sing in his closet bedroom in the shoebox apartment he used to share with Wayne.

So when he and the boys are in an interview and the interviewee brings up how “King” Steve Harrington from The Four is trying to reinvent himself with the help of former bandmate Robin Buckley, Eddie goes off. He works himself up into a little tizzy, ranting Munson Doctrine style about how a former teen pop star trying to become some second rate folk singer isn’t anything special, and that he wouldn’t be caught dead cashing in like that.

That Steve’s music is bad (even though he’s honestly never listened to it) and “King” Steve is overrated. How even Beiber is better than him. He’s just bullshit.

Of course the interview goes viral, and finds its way to Steve and Robin. Robin listens to it first and she doesn’t want Steve to watch it. She knows how close things like this cut him (especially that word), and how he’s been dealing with a lot of hate from everyone even from former fans who are confused by the sharp contrast of his new music- aka the music he’s finally being allowed to write now that he’s broken away from his momager- but Steve makes her show him.

She’s sure that she’s going to have to spend the next week rebuilding his confidence.

And instead, Steve’s lip curls into a smile, and he grabs his songbook, telling her to find her guitar.

Eddie wakes up five days after the interview to a huge flood of social media notifications, a dozen missed calls from the boys and his manager and his uncle. He ignores them all and goes to see what he fucked up this time.

Eddie opens Youtube and it’s at the top of his recommendations. The thumbnail is Steve and Robin sitting together with a guitar in her lap. The title of the video is just one word.

Bullshit.

This can’t be good.

Eddie listens to it even though he doesn’t want to. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a coward. Not anymore. He listens to it because he has to know how much he’s fucked up.

And then he listens to it again. And again. And again.

It gets stuck in his head. All of it. Not just the song (which admittedly is pretty killer) but also hearing the flippantly mean words he had casually thrown at Steve being shoved back in his face. He had seen Steve as an abstract thing, just a symbol of everything wrong with the industry, not a real person. And now this actual human being that he’s hearing has turned all of that garbage into a song that feels more genuine then most of the music on the last two albums he wrote himself. A song that has heart, joy, and a strong current of pain underneath, especially in the bridge where Steve just sings the word bullshit over and over.

There’s even more than that. He also sees the way Robin and Steve interact while they’re working the smiles, the jabs, the silly little way Steve bobs his head along as he listens to her play, the way they both collapse into giggles at the end as Steve directly quotes the part of the interview where Eddie said that Steve “is just another laundry basket devil trying to act like a big shot now that he’s too old for teen girls to moon over.”

He can’t remember the last time he and the boys had that much fun making a song.

Hell, Eddie even sees their apartment. It’s a pretty nondescript room, but he can see the wear and tear on the furniture, the cobwebs in the corners of the room, the slightly drooping houseplant with the name “Dart” lovingly painted on its pot. It feels like a home, and as Eddie looks around at the bedroom in his far too big mansion, he feels even more like a fraud.

Eddie listens to the song on repeat for most of the morning. In the afternoon he finally answers everyone, and starts to put his plan into motion.

By that evening he’s on the phone with Steve asking him and Robin to help Corroded Coffin write their next song.

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #st4 #steve and eddie #Robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates Stobin #stranger things au #modern au #rockstar Eddie munson #pop star Steve harrington #And yes in my head they fall in love #and robin falls in love with CC manager Chrissy Cunningham shhhhhh #corroded coffin

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wildflowerluver · 1 year

Text

petals of a flower

emily prentiss x fem!reader

5 times the team suspects emily has a girlfriend and the 1 time it gets confirmed

cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as girlfriend, homophobia, case details involving homosexual couples, slight injuries

wc: 3.4k

༺♡༻

emily prentiss is a mystery when she first joins the team.

garcia digs up the standard: parents, place of birth, etc. but the team doesn’t really know her.

they learn a lot about her as she settles into her position over the months. her high school emo phase had been a highlight.

but there was one part of emily’s life the team still didn’t know about.

her sexuality.

it’s not that emily’s ashamed, not in the slightest. she’s just nervous about the response. the bau team is her family and she doesn’t want to lose that.

any girls night or dinner with the team where partners get brought up, emily does everything in her power to change the topic. she’s simply not ready. she’s not ready to tell them about you.

you’re emily’s favorite person. the best girlfriend she could ask for.

she just isn’t ready for her two worlds to collide.

1. flowers

a bouquet of flowers sits on emily’s desk when the agent arrives for work. they’re white lilies, wrapped delicately in brown paper and secured with a thin piece of string. a card is tucked in the top.

“uh oh,” derek muses from his own space. “someone has a secret admirer!”

not secret to her. they’re the ones who don’t know about the sender.

emily stands in front of the bouquet, hiding the card under a folder on her desk. if anyone saw the note, they would demand for her to read it outloud.

“you know white lilies in particular are a popular funeral flower,” spencer jumps in with a fact.

“come on, pretty boy. it’s a romantic gesture. no need to drag down the mood.”

“actually morgan they’re used in weddings too. mainly christian ones but still they’re-”

“reid!”

the sound of derek and spencer’s arguing is drowned out as emily brought the flowers up to her nose.

soft and sweet.

she didn’t even need to read the card to know who they were from.

you had first pointed out white lilies when on your first date with emily.

it was when you were walking downtown after dinner. vendors had set up outside in the shopping district including one of the floral shops.

emily had stopped you in front of the bins of flowers. “which ones are your favorite?”

you didn’t have to think for very long. “white lilies,” you answered honestly. “they represent rebirth and purity.”

she hummed a noise of content beside you.

you reached into your bag to pull out your wallet, quickly grabbing the right amount of cash and handing it to the florist who sat outside.

“to new beginnings,” you beamed, offering the pre-wrapped flowers to emily. her cheeks turned a rosy pink, a stark contrast to the white petals.

she kissed you for the first time that night.

ever since then, white lilies have become your mutual flower.

“any idea who they’re from?”

that’s j.j. who asks after walking over to her with a stack of papers.

“no idea.”

emily hides her smile in the petals.

2. minimal loss

there’s a small group waiting in the quantico parking lot.

it’s late. the lights only illuminate a small section of the space.

you’ve never picked up emily from work after cases. you hadn’t even been near quantico before today. but, this case was different.

emily let you know in advance she was going undercover. it wasn’t supposed to be for long, just enough time for her and her coworker reid to investigate an underground cult in colorado.

it was hard to avoid the details of the case when every news station in the country was reporting on it.

you were cleaning around your apartment and had the news on as background, mostly to just hear the weather report. it had switched to live footage from colorado. your stomach dropped when you remembered that’s where emily was.

“this is a special report from la plata county, colorado.

we're reminded of jim mckay's words from munich– our greatest hopes and our worst fears are seldom realized.

let's hope it's not the latter as we wait to hear the fate of the women, children, and f.b.i.agents inside the building.”

an explosion.

you covered your mouth, stomach churning at the site. emily was inside. oh my god, emily.

you sent a long string of texts; hoping, begging, praying that she was alive.

when your fun buzzes hours later, you race to see what the message is. it’s from emily. she was okay, a little shaken up but okay.

tears well in your eyes. you knew her job was dangerous but this was the closest you had ever gotten to losing her. you offered to pick her up when she landed and she agreed without hesitation.

there were a few other cars in the lot when you arrived.

they had parked relatively close to each other. you stayed a ways away. you didn’t know these people and without talking to emily, you didn’t want to introduce yourself.

they looked familiar but you didn’t quite recognize them. there was a blonde woman and a young boy, another blonde woman with bright accessories, and then a man. who on emily’s team had a kid?

you sat on top of the hood of your car, picking at the skin around your nails as you waited.

it didn’t take long, nor was it difficult to spot the team when they arrived; two black suv’s pulled in one after the other.

you slid down the hood to stand up straight. you need to see her, make sure she was okay.

the team offloaded at once, each member getting out of the vehicle and distributing their luggage.

all eyes went to emily as she stumbled out of the car and hastily grabbed her bags. she had gotten hurt on this case, it was no secret everyone wanted to check up on her. she didn’t say anything before she headed in the direction of the car that was parked slightly away from the rest.

they couldn’t exactly make out the features of the person standing beside it but the way emily walked told them they were someone important.

you surged towards her when she was close enough, taking her face in your hands.

“oh em,” you breathed out, voice wavering with tears.

“i’m okay,” she promised, thumb wiping away the tears that fell.

emily pulled you into her, hand cradling your head as you cried. she knew this was a lot more scary for you than it was for her.

though the team had dispersed to greet their respected family members, no one failed to see the scene unfolding in the distance.

you hugged each other like you would never be able to again.

they all knew that emotion like that wasn’t platonic.

3. ring

a long weekend typically warrants news from some bau member.

whether it’s about a goal jack scored in soccer or a new house derek had renovated, people always seemed to have something going on.

emily sat at her desk and she scribbled away at files. one hand gripped the pen while the other sat on her knee. she twisted a band that sat on her left ring finger. it wasn’t an engagement ring but she liked wearing it on the one finger that connected to her heart.

atop the small gold band sat a gemstone, the one to match the month of your birth.

you had gotten the ring when on a trip. a shop you visited had sold them and you picked out one as a gift. as cliche as it was, you thought of it as a promise ring.

despite emily not being a huge jewelry person, she wore it every day.

the bullpen was a comfortable quiet. other members of the team sat at either their desks or in their office and worked away. the silence made it easy to focus.

a sharp gasp sounded behind her.

penelope had entered the bullpen, presumably to say hi under the false assumption she needed another cup of coffee. both of her hands had covered her mouth, effectively covering her shocked expression. “what is that!”

emily quirked her eyebrow at what the tech analyst was talking about. she was just at her same old desk doing the same old paperwork. she finally saw penelope’s line of vision and followed it down to her hand.

oh. it did kinda look like an engagement ring.

it wouldn’t be the most surprising thing in the world for someone to come back engaged after a long weekend, even if no one had been aware of their relationship.

emily barely had any time to answer before derek was circling his desk to find the source of the commotion.

“what’s all the yelling for?”

“emily has a ring. she has a ring, derek!”

derek’s eyes too fell on her hand. “woah princess! you’re getting hitched and didn’t tell us?”

“who’s getting married?”

the entire team, minus hotch and rossi who remained behind closed doors, had circled emily.

“you didn’t tell us you were dating someone!”

emily held her hands up to silence the group. “guys, guys. it’s not an engagement ring.”

a collective sigh echoed.

“it’s just a ring with my birthstone in it. my parents got it for me when i was younger and i found it when cleaning over the weekend.” emily doesn’t feel guilty for lying. it was a simple white lie, not something detrimental.

the explanation seems to suffice the group who then begins to disperse.

spencer is the only one who picks up that emily’s birthstone is an opal.

and an opal is not the gem on the ring.

4. home

nobody thinks much of it when emily neglects a saturday hang out in favor of having some personal work to get done.

derek, penelope, and j.j. all get together instead.

the girls drag derek around to a few shops they want to go to before penelope stops at a window with a gasp. “oh my god, look! that mug looks exactly like the one emily broke. we have to get it.”

there was no stopping the tech analyst who had a killer memory. it wasn’t false. emily had smashed her favorite mug earlier in the week accidentally and moped for days.

“we should surprise her! she said she had some personal stuff to do so she’s definitely home.”

derek shrugs. “i don’t know, baby girl. she probably doesn’t want to be bothered.”

j.j. digs around in her purse before pulling out a folder. “i did have to drop off her medical forms for her to sign.”

“you two have no boundaries.”

penelope is the one to knock on emily’s apartment door. she’s practically bursting with excitement. she loves her team and knowing how upset emily was over the mug, she can’t wait to give it.

you’re sitting on emily’s couch when there’s a knock at the door.

the two of you haven’t officially moved in together yet, though more times than none you’re at hers. the lease on your own apartment isn’t up yet though once it is, you and her will finally be living together.

saturdays where emily is home are semi-rare. cases often stretch into weekends. she’s thankfully home today, though a few chores around the home dominated her to-do list. she worked upstairs while you relaxed on the couch.

you were slightly confused as to who would be at the door.

“can you get the door, baby?” emily called from upstairs.

“got it!”

you trudged towards the entrance, sliding the peephole cover to the side to peer out. three people stood outside, two women and one man. they looked familiar. you had definitely seen them before.

the picture emily kept of her team on the wall flashed in your memory. that and the time where you had picked her up at quantico. oh, they were members of her team.

you finally opened the door. it was slightly amusing to see the three agents' faces twist in confusion when it was in fact not emily answering the door.

“can i help you?”

none of the three speak for a few moments. they’re clearly trying to rack their brain as you looked familiar to them too.

“oh, um, yes!” the woman with colorful accessories stutters out. “is emily here?”

you open the door a little wider, motioning with your head for them to come in. once the door is closed, you leave them in the entranceway and head in a bit further.

“em!” you call up the stairs. “people are here for you!”

there’s a distance thud. “coming!”

you figure whatever they need to talk about is none of your business. when emily comes downstairs, you smile softly at her. “i’ll leave you all alone. i’ll be upstairs.”

you squeeze her shoulder when you walk by and within a minute, you’re out of sight.

“not to sound rude but why are you guys here? is the team okay?”

derek nods his head. “everything’s good, princess. though i have to ask, who was that?”

emily doesn’t have an excuse. referring to you as ‘just a friend’ feels wrong. plus, she hasn’t discussed if you’re ready for her team to know either. she then notices the package in penelope’s hand.

“what’s that?”

the original question gets blocked out by penelope’s squeal and presentation of the gift.

derek and j.j. share a look. penelope’s not a profiler, she doesn’t pick up on some things, but emily’s deflection tells the agents all they need to know.

they stay quiet, though both of their hearts soar.

no wonder emily has seemed so happy.

5. case

emily’s not one to let her emotions impact a case.

she has a routine to prepare herself: kiss you goodbye, tell you she loves you, go to quantico, read the case, familiarize the victims, solve the case. all in that order.

this one throws her off.

lgbtq couples murdered in their cars, all wearing formal clothing presumably from their date.

emily’s mind immediately goes to you and her. though this case is states away, the unsub doesn’t have a much different mindset than a lot of people.

she internalizes it as best she can, wanting to perform at her best to help solve this case before more people die. it works at first. emily’s able to go to the crime scene, distinguish evidence, and build a profile with ease. that is until two more bodies are discovered.

and one of them looks like you.

j.j. pins the pictures on the board and emily’s stomach drops. she knows it’s not you. you’re miles away and you had just texted her a few minutes ago with a picture of the coffee you had gotten. but the internalized fear is very much present.

theories bounce around the room. why were these two targeted? sexuality aside, what about them was attractive to the unsub?

emily’s throat goes dry. she can’t do this anymore.

“hotch, can i talk to you?”

the room goes quiet. hotch’s eyes flicker back and forth from rossi to j.j. before going back to emily. “of course.”

emily doesn’t stop at an empty conference room. there’s plenty in the precinct and yet they end up outside. emily sits on one of the steps and begins to toy with the ring on her finger.

hotch takes a seat beside her.

“hotch i need to be pulled from this case.”

emily’s surprised she’s able to say the full sentence without breaking down.

“okay,” he begins slowly. “can i ask why?”

internally, hotch knows. he picked up on emily’s behavioral change from the second the case got presented.

“hotch, i-” the words seem to get lost on the tip of her tongue.

she shoves her palms into her eyes. she's flustered, embarrassed, scared.

she should be able to do her job. cases don’t usually get to her. it’s difficult to not feel helpless.

a hand moves to rest on her shoulder.

“it’s okay you know.”

he doesn’t need to finish. what he’s implying is obvious.

the tears brimming in emily’s eyes spill over hot and fast.

hotch moves closer to her, arm circling around her. all superiority dynamics have faded. it’s friend to friend, a moment of vulnerability.

emily’s felt more accepted from his four words than she has in years.

+1 meeting

emily always goes into work before you.

between her commute with traffic and desire to get there a bit early, she’s up and running before you even get out of bed.

naturally, you like to help her out as much as possible.

it comes in the form of packing lunch, organizing files, packing her bag (both personal and one for cases).

this morning was a complete blur. you had worked late the previous night and slept in before work. emily got ready around you, shaking you awake a few moments before she was set to leave.

when emily departed and you made your way downstairs, you noticed what she had forgotten. a brown folder stamped with the fbi logo sat next to an empty lunch bag. you frowned. file aside, you didn’t want her skipping lunch.

you took your phone out and sent her a text.

‘hi baby. you forgot a file and your lunch. can i stop by with them?’

she responds while you’re in the middle of getting dressed for the day.

‘any chance you can bring them at noon-ish? we have meetings all morning but a break for lunch.’

you beam. seeing your girlfriend at her workplace is new. sure you’d seen pictures of the bullpen, mostly when emily showed you her desk whenever you gave her a new trinket to add, but you had never been there.

instead of packing a meal, you stopped downtown at one of emily’s favorite restaurants for take-out. a little surprise.

quantico is intimidating, even from the signage you see on the drive over.

you park in the visitors lot and follow the instructions emily had given you on where to go. security was mandatory and a visitors pass was needed to access the floor.

once exiting the elevator, you stood nervously. emily was at her desk, though so were her coworkers. you look out of place; reusable bag and folder in your hands and casual clothing adorning your body.

she finally looked up and out the glass door, smile enveloping her face as she raised her hand to motion for you to come in. the agents sitting at their desks naturally gravitate towards the commotion. all of them recognized you.

the opal necklace the notice sitting around your neck suddenly makes sense.

“any chance you can get them to stop staring?” you ask once emily stops in front of you.

“hi baby,” she muses, disregarding the question with amusement. “sorry to make you trek all the way out here.”

her hand finds its way to the small of your back, guiding you over to her desk. she lets you have the chair while she sits on the surface. you fight the urge to roll your chair forward and rest your head on her leg. “don’t worry about it. i brought you takeout from that thai place we like.”

emily beams.

“you’re too good to me.”

“you deserve it.”

you stop taking the containers out of the bag and peer up at her.

emily’s hand moves to rest on your cheek before she ducks down to kiss you gently.

it’s revealing. you both know everyone in the room witnessed the act of public affection. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

when the team finally confronts emily, she has no problem boasting.

“this is y/n,” emily introduces. she glances at you to which you tilt your head, lips upturned. the next two words come a moment later. “my girlfriend.”

like white lilies, this was a new beginning. one where she could be more than open about her lover.

maybe the team's suspicion had been right, maybe some of it had been wrong. that didn’t matter now. all emily cared about could be open about your relationship.

rebirth and purity.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss x y/n

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