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hyypnotix-writes · 8 months

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Part 2

~ hiya! I'm really nervous about posting this, but I couldn't not at least try to give you a second part after the response the last one got! ~

~ I really appreciate everyone reading it and enjoying it as much as you did ..I hope this one doesn't ruin it for you! ~

~ I think this one's around 13k words. so again ..it's a long one, if you have nothing else to do! ~

~ there’s quite a lot of story before Alexia makes an appearance, sorry ..but she does eventually show up! ~

~ I promise to put more of her in the next part if any of you end up wanting one ~

~ I’m really worried this will disappoint a lot of you, but at least you still have the first part to go back to, if nothing else! ~

~ I really hope you're able to enjoy it even just a little bit, and thanks again for loving the first part so much! the response was very overwhelming and I've loved you all reaching out to tell me that you liked it ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

~ Part 1 ~

________________

One night.

One perfect night.

That’s all it took.

One perfect night to throw your whole damn life into disarray.

One perfect night, that’s lead to endless subsequent nights, spent tossing and turning on your own, replaying the memory over on a loop in your mind. It’s only been about a month, but it feels like an eternity.

A never-ending, exhausting cycle of yearning and confusion.

It was the most welcome distraction from your ex-boyfriend’s evil escapades, you’ve not really thought about him at all since.

It should have set you free, broken you out of the chains of mundanity. It showed you a whole new world, a world of women. It gave you a new perspective on life. Unlocked a realm of brand-new possibilities all ready and waiting for you to venture, and yet, you don’t want to explore any of them.

It's not that you haven’t tried.

You’d have been an idiot to assume that it’s only her that can make you feel like this. That would be giving her an awful lot of credit. Yes, she was your first woman, but that didn’t mean that she needed to be your last. The way your mind and body reacted to her, maybe you could have been slightly gayer than you thought, but it doesn’t really look to be the case.

A pair of lesbian sisters always seemed incredibly unlikely to you, and your sister’s already called dibs on the label. Maybe it’s the mere existence of your younger sister that eradicates the possibility of any real queerness in yourself. That’s probably how the handing out of sexualities works, right?

It’s a working theory, and one that you seem to be proving the accuracy of.

You’ve been to a few more clubs since your entanglement with the Spanish mystery. Only returning back to that specific one, once. It gave you a headache just stepping through the door. She was still everywhere in the room, her spirit living in the walls. You barely managed to stay inside for even a second before it became too much for you, sending your heart and mind racing.

You took yourself back home, reminiscing every single kiss you’d shared with her on that fanciful journey back to her hotel together. Looking up at the floor she had been staying on, as you hastily walked past it on your own.

Even the nightclubs that aren’t haunted by her ghost, haven’t yielded much greater success with you.

You paid a visit to a smaller bar, a fair few nights after your perfect one, and had found a woman interested in you. More than interested. She was pretty, and friendly enough. She was flirty and bought you a few drinks. She didn’t try to play it weird by aiding you in your consumption of alcohol. There was no intriguing salt and lime foreplay. She was far more straightforward, far less irritating.

Maybe that’s why it didn’t work. Maybe she was too plain. Maybe she was too simple and easy for you to understand. Or maybe it’s the fact that when she pressed herself against you in search of a kiss, an alarm bell rang out inside of your head. You suddenly found yourself all too aware that she was a woman, and you simply no longer wanted to follow through with your curiosities.

It doesn’t help in your confusion, why the femininity of one woman can leave you feeling more certain of your straightness, while another’s femininity has you still helplessly pining after her.

It’s not like you were under any illusion with the Spanish woman. You were entirely aware that she was also a woman, and it wasn’t off putting to you at all. You enjoyed her being a woman. She smelt nice, she tasted nice. Her body was beautiful, and her lips were soft, and it doesn’t make any sense that she’s allowed to put a yearning in you that no other woman is able to satisfy.

That does seem very typical of her, though. She really was very cocky and frustrating.ﾠﾠ

Until she wasn’t, of course.

Then, she was just sweet and considerate. Cautious and careful. Flirty and undemanding. She took you back to hers and she still had no expectations from you. She was still willing to let you walk away. Maybe you should have.ﾠﾠ

You knew even then that you should have.

It was daft of you to follow after her. Foolish to lose yourself with her, spending the night together, giggling under the sheets. Sharing kisses as you drowned yourselves in each other. Learning her body, every mark, scar and freckle, and committing them all to your memory. Tracing her curves and her tattoos and discovering what it is that makes her tick.ﾠ

She was patient, and understanding, she wasn’t in a rush with you. She spent the whole night exploring with you. Studying your body, wanting to learn all the things you liked her doing, and the things you really liked her doing. She turned what could have been a terrifying, embarrassing, disaster of an experience, into the most incredible encounter of your life.

She brought you more pleasure than your pathetic ex-boyfriend had ever managed to give you in your whole 5-year relationship, in less than 5 minutes of her having your clothes off. She had the most unholy of noises spilling from your lips with her fingers and tongue inside of you, and she wasn’t exactly quiet herself, in letting you know when you were doing the right thing with her.

She was intoxicating, exhilarating. She was life-affirming.

She’s a far more dangerous addiction to you than alcohol could ever manage to be. You’ve never been tempted by drugs before, but you can’t even imagine the high from them being able to compete against what she’s done to you.

It was just one night.

It was one perfect night.

________________

Living back with your younger sister isn’t exactly where you saw yourself being at 26. Your London flat had started feeling a little too big for you, without a traitorous arsehole of a man invading your space. So, you invited her to move in with you, not wanting to have to give up your dream property just because he had decided to try ruining your life. You needed help with the rent, and she had gratefully accepted.

You didn’t necessarily expect her to also invite her idiot new girlfriend into your home with her. That wasn’t really part of the deal, though you didn’t explicitly tell her that she couldn’t. You can’t really blame her. If you were able to spend every waking moment of your life with ‘A’ right beside you, you’d jump at the opportunity headfirst.

It still doesn’t aid in the dispelling of your confusion. There’s no jealousy when you see them together. Her girlfriend does nothing for you, none of her girlfriends ever have. You both have decidedly different tastes in women. Your sister’s taste is entirely questionable, yours is perfection.

You haven’t mentioned your Spanish predicament to your sister. She’d probably laugh at you for it, call you tragic, and embarrassing. Tell you everything you’ve already been telling yourself on repeat in your head. She wouldn’t be very helpful; she very rarely is. She’s your very annoying, smart-arse of a little sister, who couldn’t possibly give you any decent advice. She’s 2 years younger than you and she's an idiot.

She’s not the one who’s still hung up on a stranger after over a month, though. It’s rarely taken her longer than 24 hours to get over someone she’s been with. She’s not the one who’s been questioning herself every night. She’s never questioned herself at all. You’re fairly certain her very first thought, straight out of the womb was about another woman.

She didn’t really have to come out to the family at any point, she kissed her first girl when she was 8. Always been a bit of a Casanova, your sister. A walking stereotype of a lesbian. Short, brightly coloured, undercut hair, quite a few piercings, heavily tattooed. She’s obsessed with women’s football, always watching re-runs of ‘The L Word,’ and overwhelmingly insistent in trying to prove to you that Taylor Swift is also secretly gay.

Your sister’s certainty in her own sexual identity isn’t something that’s ever irritated you before. Not when you were always so sure of yourself, too. You appreciated her confidence. It was admirable, given the way people can be with her. She’s your self-assured little sister, who isn’t great at confrontation. So, you support her whenever anyone tries to tear her down.

Now, however, this too-late-in-life existential crisis you’re struggling with, has you wishing she’d try to be a little bit more questioning herself. Her surety and cockiness about her sexuality is suddenly the most prominent attribute of her personality, and it’s really starting to drive you up the wall.

It’s a rare evening where it’s only the two of you at home together. You don’t really know where her girlfriend is, and you don’t much care. You only feel responsible for one annoying lesbian, the one who shares your surname.

She’s being rather antisocial with you, playing video games alone in her bedroom, and you’ve just finished tidying up the dining table after sharing the dinner you cooked for you both. You’re not exactly sure how you’ve found yourself solo parenting your stroppy little sibling when you’re really not much older than her yourself, but there you go.

Maybe you should try speaking to her. See what she can possibly offer you by way of sapphic guidance. If she’s going to continue having her nuisance girlfriend living here rent-free, she should at least try giving you something to make it worth your while.

You walk straight through to her bedroom and collapse your head onto her stomach on the bed. Making sure to do so with just enough force behind it to ensure you manage to leave her winded and interrupt her gaming. She grunts under you, and you earn an overly aggressive smack to your shoulder for achieving your goal. As, whatever other little child she’s playing her game against, has just managed to score past her.

“You’re a twat!” She scolds, and you backhand her face to shut her up. She raises her fist above your stomach, and you flinch, bracing for impact.

“I have a question!” You shout, before she has chance to attack.

She pauses her lifted fist above you, and reluctantly agrees to a truce, providing your question is of interest to her. “What?” She groans, and you fiddle with your fingers, trying to find the right wording.

“Why do you like women?” You ask, your face grimacing as you await her response.

It isn’t your smoothest ever phrasing, not your wittiest form of delivery. It’s honestly, rather annoyingly, not the most subtle line of questioning. Despite it not being entirely to the point, your sister isn’t stupid.

“What?”

Oh ..maybe she is!

That’s not going to be super helpful with your impending interrogation.

“Why not men?” You suggest, still trying not to be too blatant. “How did you know you liked women?”

“I looked at one.” She tells you, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Why?”

“Do you find every woman attractive?”

“No, but I find enough of them attractive to sense a pattern.” She explains. “Why?”

“And you’ve never been attracted to a man? Not even tempted?”

“No. Not once. Why?”

“Never ever?”

“Y/N!”

“I was just wondering.” You tell her quickly, drumming your fingers on top of your stomach.

“About women?” She queries.

“About ..why women. What it is about them.”

“Aside from the obvious?” She snickers, nudging your arm.

You quickly bounce your head back against her stomach winding her again.

“Stop doing that!”

“Stop being annoying!” You warn her. Your frustration at yourself getting the better of you.

She tries to push you off of her, but you mess with the analogue sticks on her controller, and she turns her focus back to salvaging her match. “You really are a twat! Get out!”

“I need your help.”

“I don’t care!”

“..I’m sorry.” You mumble, and she scoffs at you, pushing you off of her bed unceremoniously.

You can’t say you blame her, you’re a constant threat to her in that position, it’s too big of a risk. You enjoy bouncing your head and ruining her childish little game far too much.

“Why do you like men?” She counters, and you find yourself stuck for words as you sit on her floor.

It’s the question that’s been floating around your own head for a little while now. You’d never thought about it before. You just were. You had crushes on them all throughout your childhood, you’d had meaningless boyfriends in your teens, you met your bastard ex at university and figured that was it.

You didn’t need to question why you were attracted to them, it just always made sense.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, letting out a groan as you grab one of her pillows and bury your head into it.

“What’s going on?” She asks, as she prods at your shoulder with her foot.

“Nothing. I was just—”

“Thinking about women?”

“No!”

It isn’t really a lie, you’re not thinking about women, just the one. The one woman who’s been invading all of your thoughts for the past 30 something days. The one who won’t let you sleep properly at night, who won’t let you focus completely at work.

The one woman who refuses to leave your head for even a second just to let you rest, to let you breathe, to let you remember what life was like, prior to her entering it and recklessly setting fire to everything, before she ran away from you and disappeared into thin air.ﾠﾠ

“I kissed one.” You confess, trying to suffocate yourself with her pillow.

This really does take her by surprise. You can hear her movements on top of the mattress as she turns her game off and pulls her pillow from you with a rather startling urgency. There’s great confusion on her face as she looks at you. She really must think you’re very boring if that’s enough to render her speechless. Imagine her reaction if you admitted to all the other things you did to the Spanish enigma.

“You kissed a woman?” She asks, frowning at you.

You’re not entirely sure why she looks quite so cross about it. You’re not trying to steal her thunder here. You’re not about to start trying to catch up with her numerous exploits of female companions.

“Mhmm.” You mumble in reply, smoothing your hair back from over your face.

“Why? For a man?”

“No! I just wanted to ..I thought it’d be fun.”

“..and ..was it?”

“Mhmm.”

She looks at you with a very distinct air of incredulity. It’s a rather annoying look, weirdly condescending. She doesn’t believe you. Why she thinks you’d bother lying about it, you really do not know. You’re not that desperate for a story to tell her.

It’s almost offensive that she thinks you’re so incapable. You didn’t just kiss a woman. You went down on one, you had your fingers inside of her. You evoked moans from her, she scratched her nails down your back. You’re not some virginal prude. You’re not inept. It can’t be that shocking and inconceivable that you could share a single kiss with someone of the same sex.

You were right, telling your sister was pointless. She’s offered you no assistance and no support. She’s a useless little waste of space and her horrible girlfriend is an advantage-taking little freeloader.

“Thanks, very much! This was really helpful!”

Your words are laced in sarcasm as you slide yourself up away from her bed with a sigh, throwing your middle finger up back in her direction as you exit the room, and slam her bedroom door shut behind you.

You slam your own bedroom door shut behind you too, just in case she hadn’t picked up on how pissed off you are.

You’re not really pissed off with her. She doesn’t know what’s going on inside of your head. You’re pissed off with yourself, for still being all entirely far too consumed with a woman whose name you do not know. Who wouldn’t even bother sharing her profession with you. It isn’t fair.

You collapse headfirst onto your bed and let out a rather guttural groan into your duvet. You’re very frustrated. Your brain’s a mess, your sexuality’s up in the air, and you allowed yourself to picture, far too clearly, your memories of having sex with the gorgeous Spanish woman and now that ache that she’d put inside of you is back.

There’s a knock at your door, and you’re not in the mood. You grab your duvet and burrito yourself in it down to the foot of your bed.

“Y/N?”

You don’t even grace your sister with a response. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a swine.

No, but she really is a swine, as you can hear her turning the doorknob and just walking right into your bedroom anyway. She’s really, unbelievably terrible at reading social cues.

“Do you want to come to Spain with me next week?”

See what I mean? What the hell?

That’s a very serendipitous little offer, though. You didn’t even mention to her that the woman that you kissed was Spanish.

Did you?

She can’t have worked that out by herself. That would be insane. She’s already proved herself to not be the sharpest tool in the shed. That wouldn’t make any sense. What an intriguing little invitation.

It’s very embarrassing that just the mention of the country sends a shiver down the back of your neck. All this instant adrenaline running through you, as if she’ll just be waiting for you there as soon as you land down in a random Spanish airport. Yeah, that seems likely!

Spain’s not the biggest country in the world, but it certainly isn’t small. You’re not going to accidentally stumble into her again on the beach, or in a marketplace. She’s definitely not going to be staying in the same hotel that you’d be in.

It shouldn’t have your heart racing like this. The chances of finding her again are so infinitesimally small, so extremely impossible, so overwhelmingly unlikely ..but you do stand a better chance, if you’re in the right country.

“Next week?” You mumble under the sheets, playing it incredibly cool, as you try to ignore the way your heart’s started thumping at a thousand beats per minute.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were going away with your girlfriend?”

“..we broke up.”

Shit. She would make this all about herself.

You wiggle yourself free of your duvet cocoon and open up your arms for her to crash into you. She might be a useless little swine, but she’s your useless little swine. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm.” She grumbles, as she starfishes herself on top of you.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You never liked her.”

“That’s not true.” You protest half-heartedly, kissing the side of her head.

“I am fine ..I broke up with her.”

“Well, thank fuck for that!”

“See!” She laughs, rolling off the side of you. “You hated her!”

“She was horrible!”

“You could’ve said.”

“You wouldn’t have left her if I told you to. You’d be getting bloody married to the girl. Twat.” She giggles defencelessly next to you on the bed, because you’re absolutely right. She has always been a contrarian little thing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll find someone else tomorrow.”

“Unbelievable.” You chuckle, shaking your head as you push her away. “You can’t just give me her ticket. Did she not pay for it?”

The embarrassed little look on your sister’s face is all the wordless response you need. Her girlfriend never paid for anything. She really was an advantage-taking little freeloader.

“Where are you going in Spain?”

“Barcelona.”

“Why?”

“Football.”

“Oh! Give me a break!” You exclaim and roll down away from her back to the foot of the bed. “Why are you going all the way to Spain just to watch some football? You can bloody watch it here.”

“It’s the Champions League!” She informs you excitedly, and you can’t even pretend to match her enthusiasm. “Chelsea’s playing Barcelona.”

“Woo.” You respond flatly, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. “You watched them play together today, didn’t you? Why are they so bloody obsessed with each other? Even I know there’s more teams than that.”

“It’s the second leg..” She starts explaining, but none of it means anything to you, and you really just can’t bring yourself to care.

Going all the way out to Spain to be stuck inside a stadium with thousands of screaming fans? What sort of holiday is that? You don’t care about Chelsea’s success or failure. Your sister’s dirty crush on their star-striker is just another one of her many celebrity infatuations that you can’t make any sense of.

You don’t want to sit next to her as she gets herself all hot and bothered watching women run around a football pitch. You don’t even enjoy watching men do it, you have no interest in watching women.

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You tell her, dismissively.

“Please? We can do more than just watch the football.” She offers, pouting pathetically. “You have to come with me! I’ve just been dumped!”

“No, you haven’t!” You remind her, laughing at her useless attempt at guilt tripping. “And you haven’t really left me much time to negotiate with work.”

“You work too hard and you’re due some time off! Your boss isn’t going to refuse you, just bat your eyelashes at him. The filthy pervert.”

“Hm.” You mumble, drumming your fingers over your stomach as you think.

She isn’t wrong, about you working hard, at least. You do like to bury yourself in your work. You enjoy your job, and the harder you work, the more you earn. You haven’t had time off in a while, and your boss is unlikely to say no to you, you are his favourite employee. You don’t agree that it’s because he has a crush on you, you get good results for the company, and attract lucrative clientele.

If batting your eyelashes could get you back in the arms of your Spanish one-night stand more easily, though, you’re not above flirting with him to get you there. You could take a few days of leave, go off to Spain, and possibly run into the woman who’s been living inside of your head.

It’s such an incredibly remote possibility. An absolute stab in the dark chance of finding her. She probably isn’t even in Barcelona. You’re not cultured enough to be able to pin her accent to a specific city. She’s just Spanish. There’s much more places in Spain than just Barcelona. Barcelona isn’t even the capital. Maybe she’s in Madrid, Valencia, Marbella. She could be a party girl living on the island of Ibiza, you had originally found her in a bar. You don’t get a body like hers drinking yourself senseless every night, though.

What if you do find her, and she wants nothing to do with you? There was only ever the promise of one night together. You already pushed your luck by spending the rest of the morning with each other, she doesn’t owe you anything more. It’s unlikely that she’s been spiralling quite as pathetically as you have. She’s not going to be fending off a sexuality migraine.

You undoubtedly won’t have been the absolutely mind-blowing experience to her, that she was to you. She’ll have had sex with countless women. She definitely enjoyed herself with you, that much you’re certainly sure of. You can’t fake every bodily reaction to someone, but the rest of it could have been for show. The display of heartbreak afterwards.

So, maybe she’s an actress, that would certainly make sense. It would explain why she had money, and why she had a company paying for her hotel. Maybe that was her little ‘business trip’. Perhaps she was in London promoting a Spanish movie. Maybe the entire thing was all a performance, and you fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

Either way, stalking her in Spain would be far too pathetic. Even if she does want you to find her, it’s so desperate and needy of you to go all that way, and if she doesn’t want you to find her, you end up looking insane. Travelling to Spain, to possibly just show up right there on her doorstep? What a terrifying thing for you to do to the woman.

But what if it’s a sign?

Your clueless little sister, inviting you all the way to Spain, with absolutely no idea that the woman you’re harbouring all of these confusing emotions for, lives there? Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s the universe trying to get you back together. Maybe she didn’t fake it, she does feel the same, you’ll find her in Spain and spend the rest of your lives together.

Please. Behave and be so goddamn serious with yourself. You sweet and simple, delusional little fool.

“The woman I kissed was from Spain.” You inform your sister thoughtfully, and she sits herself up on your bed to frown at you.

“You’re still going with that?”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“You’re straight. Straight straight straight.” She points out, with such an incredibly annoying inflection to her voice, it makes you want to bang your head against the wall. “You’re also 26. You were in love with an ugly bastard for 5 years and you’ve never shown an interest in a woman before.”

“I hadn’t met her before.”

“Gayyy!” She giggles, and you give her an almighty clack on her arm with the back of your hand, to wipe the smug little smile from off her face.

“Go with the woman you’re hooking up with tomorrow.” You instruct her. “I’d be a nightmare to watch football with, you’d have to keep explaining things to me.”

“I don’t mind doing that.”

“Do you have no other friends to go with you?” You laugh and she pouts dramatically again, shaking her head. “You’re a lonely little loser!” You tell her with a smile.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” She asks, rolling her eyes at you.

You take in a deep breath and let out a very heavy sigh.

What’s the worst that can happen?

She’s already completely upturned your life. It couldn’t make things any worse for you. Whether you’re able to bump into her or not. You’ll either find yourself some peace, lounging in the Spanish sun, or you’ll be left in exactly the same position you’re in now, but with a much healthier glow to your skin.

You could even find yourself a Spanish man while you’re out there.

Mm.

It’s really not a good sign for your heterosexuality, that that’s no longer an appealing option to you.

“If I can sort it with work,” you reason, “yes. I’ll come to Barcelona with you.”

She lets out an embarrassingly girly squeal and crashes her head against your stomach, with just enough force behind it to manage to leave you winded.

“Twat! I’m making no promises about going to the game, mind. I’m just coming for the tan.”

“Maybe your ‘Spanish lesbian’ is also a fan of football.” She encourages

“Mhmm. I’m pretty sure she is.” You admit contemplatively. “Is that an entry-level of requirement for lesbianism, then?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “Because if that’s the case, I really can stop questioning myself.”

________________

Booking time off work really is as easy as your sister thought it would be. Maybe your boss does have an inappropriate crush on you like she suspects.

She’s very excited about having you for company, and she tries to educate you on all of Chelsea’s history, the players’ statistics, and their personal lives, all before you go on your little trip together. It really does just go right in one ear, and straight back out of the other. You’re not fussed on the facts and figures; it’s not why you’re going.

There’s not enough room in your brain to care about the ins and outs of Sam Kerr and Kristie Mewis’ relationship. You’re not interested in the fact that Chelsea currently have 6 WSL titles, and are going for their fifth-straight one, and you really aren’t bothered that the semifinal’s first leg match against Barcelona ended in a draw.

That is a fair amount of information for you to have retained already despite not being interested. Your sister really has been going on at you, you’re almost a footballing expert.

Touching down late in the morning in Barcelona, you can’t pretend there isn’t a tiny part of you that’s letting yourself get a little carried away with dreaming. You’ve played through enough countless scenarios in your head of running into the Spanish wonder again back in London, of course your mind’s racing with the possibilities in Spain.

You drop your bags off at the hotel your sister’s booked for you both, with the intention of heading back out to explore the city together. It’s a peculiar looking building, bright red, oddly shaped. She really never has been one for subtlety, it’s the perfect sort of accommodation for her.

She insists on wanting to have a look at the Olympic Stadium before the big match, as well as seeing the state of Camp Nou’s renovations, and you really can’t indulge her any more than you already have. You probably will end up joining her for the game tomorrow, but you’re absolutely not walking around the outside of football grounds for fun.

You’ve seen the exterior of Stamford Bridge more than your fair share of times, Wembley, the Emirates. There’s not that much difference between the lot of them, and they’ve never really been your favourite form of modern architecture.

So, you agree to go your separate ways for your first afternoon in the city, you’ll meet back up with each other tonight.

Playing tourist around the streets of Barcelona on your own, is quite an exciting little experience for you. You’re not very worried about getting lost, despite not speaking too much Spanish beyond the basics. Your hotel’s a distinctive looking building, it’s not going to be super difficult to find your own way back to it.

You get a taxi further into the main hub of town and you’re able to mosey about with a rather unrestrained confidence, turning down tight alleyways and strolling aimlessly along multiple cobbled streets. You manage to find yourself being comfortably led astray, by allowing nothing more than just the warm gentle breeze to guide you as it blows against your body.

It turns into a more casual exploration of the more authentic side of Barcelona away from most of the tourist hotspots. You have no real idea where you are, and you’re quite enjoying the small rush of adventure.

A coffee is what you start craving, and you’re not exactly limited by options. Every other building on the peacefully quiet backstreet you’ve found yourself on, seems to be a tiny café. You could start ip dip doo-ing all the individual offerings, but that’s putting far too much consideration into it. You decide to go for the smallest one, the most unassuming. The best coffees always come from the places that aren’t trying to market themselves to any foreign tourists.

A little bell rings out as you step through the door and the barista almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of you, he clearly isn’t used to getting anyone other than his regular patrons. You offer up your friendliest of smiles and a quick ‘hola’ to show him that you mean no harm, and you tap your finger gently on the countertop as you inspect the board behind his head.

Choosing the littlest coffee shop might have been a tiny mistake because absolutely everything on the menu is written in what you can only assume, is a rather confusing variation of Spanish. You can’t back out now, the barista already has an adorably excited look on his face at having someone new in his little shop, you can’t break his heart like that.

You study the chalk written on the board for entirely far too long, in the hope that the words will slowly start translating themselves for you. It doesn’t work, obviously. So, you take a punt at a random one of them, with the rather daring assumption that you haven’t just ordered yourself a troubling batch of Spanish poison.

“¡Dos, por favor!” Comes a call from behind you, from a woman you surely do not know. It’s recognisably ballsy of her, almost rude.

Her words echo in your ears, as time stands still around you. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with that unmistakable, and entirely enchanting, cocky little tone to it.

You can’t really have found her so easily. Life’s never been that kind.

You can feel your heart clattering around in your chest instantly. Like it’s trying to escape from your ribs, to go off and say hello to hers, all by itself. Your chest’s rising and falling intensely as your breathing shallows and picks up pace.

It can’t be her; it can’t be. This city’s just absolutely full of Spanish women.

She holds out her card right over you to pay, gently resting her arm down onto your shoulder, and you’ve definitely seen that tattoo before. The ‘11’ printed on her wrist.

She’d refused to explain the meaning when you’d asked her about it. She wouldn’t give you the backstory behind any of her tattoos. It was too personal; you weren’t allowed to know.

She thought you might have really fallen for each other if you both started sharing too much information about yourselves, and you only had the single night to spend together.

“It would be too painful.” She had reasoned with you.

That was very clever thinking on her part. She absolutely managed to prevent you from having an awful lot of heartache and suffering about the whole thing, by letting you know absolutely nothing about her..ﾠ

You still can’t bring yourself to turn around and look. Even though you know it must be her. It can’t be likely that there’s multiple Spanish women that have branded themselves with that specific number on that specific part of their body. Surely to god.

“..gracias.” You manage to choke out very shakily, in little more than a whisper, still facing forward.

You have to turn around at some point. You can’t very well drink your coffee on the tiny little counter right in front of the barista when you can’t even have a conversation with him. Just staring at him, silently, neither of you able to speak each other’s language? That would freak him out! You’ll find yourself back on a plane headed for England before you know it, with a restraining order hanging over your head.

Grow up and turn around. Just turn around.

It’s her. It has to be her.

The barista accepts the woman’s payment method with a familiar little smile back at her, and she carefully retracts her arm from over your shoulder slowly. You can smell her perfume on her wrist as it wafts back past the side your face. You recognise the scent, and you find yourself following it round you like a lost little puppy, your knees almost giving way beneath you.

You didn’t accidentally stumble upon her at the beach. It’s not a Spanish marketplace. She definitely isn’t staying at the same hotel that you’re in.

You’ve found her, while getting yourself lost. In the tiniest little café, on an unnamed, tumbleweed backstreet, right in the very heart of Barcelona.

There’s a wide smile of disbelief on her face. Which is hopefully an indication, that she isn’t terrified of you being here, she hadn’t faked her feelings, and she, much like you are with her, is a little overwhelmed to see you.

“Hi.” Is all that drops out of your mouth, as your mind goes blank at the sight of her.

“Hi.” She says back, with the exact same breathlessness as you, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

“….Hi.”

“You’ve already said that.” She reminds you, and she’s clearly able to bring herself back to her senses far more quickly than you are, because there’s that charming little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips again.

You’re not really sure which one of you instigated it, you both just sort of ended up colliding into each other, gripping at the material of each other’s clothes. It’s a very desperate hug. Even more so than the one you shared outside of the hotel elevator. You melt into each other, merging yourselves together like two corresponding puzzle pieces.

It’s an embrace, holding not just the 12 hours of curious devotion between you, but over 30 days' worth of frenzied yearning. It has you both clinging to each other with everything you have, as it defies everything you came to accept as truly achievable, that heartbreaking belief in you, that this reunion would never really happen.

It’s an impossible hug, and it’s one that neither of you want to pull away from.

“What are you doing here?” You mumble against her, clinging to her shirt as she buries her head in the crook of your neck.

“I think it should be me asking that question.” She tells you, chuckling. “I have far more right to be in Barcelona than you do.”

“This is where you live?” You ask. “You’re from Barcelona?”

“Mhmm.” She murmurs. “Mollet del Vallès.”

There’s really no reason for that to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. It’s only a place name. It’s a good job she didn’t spend much time speaking Spanish to you back in London, you really would have been like putty in her hands.

“What are you doing here?” She questions.

“I thought you might want your sweatshirt back.” You joke casually, and she loosens her grip on you slightly so she can face you.

“Do you not want it anymore?” She asks, furrowing her brow as she studies your face.

There’s a clear look of uncertainty in her eyes, a small sense of worry, and you do feel mildly guilty for teasing her. “I was hoping ..maybe I could swap it for another.” You smile. “It doesn’t really smell like you anymore.”

She doesn’t allow you to feel guilty for too long. That small air of arrogance that’s always threatening to escape her, does so, in a predictable little smirk at the implication.

“You’ve been wearing it that much?” She asks you proudly, and you push your tongue against the inside of your mouth as you roll your eyes at her typical display of cockiness. She carefully closes the small distance between you both again, gently pressing herself flush against you. “Does it smell of you?” She whispers in your ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps down the side of your neck.

“Mhmm.”

“Mm. Maybe I could be persuaded to make a trade, then.”

She’s impossible for you to resist when she’s like this. It’s still an intriguing talent she has, evoking such a physical reaction from you, by doing hardly anything at all. A quiet little whisper in your ear and your body’s immediately burning up next to her? You’re still so incredibly tragic.

You might no longer be certain of your sexuality, but maybe it really doesn’t matter. Why do you need to understand it? Why does it need an explanation? No one else in the world is important at all when she’s standing here in front of you. No one else would ever really stand a chance. How could you ever be interested in anyone else, when you know that this woman right here exists? How could any other person ever truly compare?

There’s a desire in you that’s clearly also felt in her, when she moves herself to look at you. It’s written all over her face, the twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and the fact that her lips are so incredibly close to yours.

You lean in, and so does she, but it’s like something quickly shoots through her body, as though she’s suddenly being brought back into the room. She does a quick scan of the café, and she collects herself before she lets you both get carried away.

“We can’t kiss in here.” She tells you quietly, and you frown at her as you pull yourself back.

“Why not?” You ask, doing your own quick search to try and find what she saw to put her off.

No one seems too interested in you, though there’s admittedly a couple of people discreetly watching her. She is very beautiful, so it’s not surprising, but you do sort of wish they’d stop their gawking. This gorgeous woman is here with you, and you’re not really in the mood for sharing.

“There’s not another bloody homophobe about, is there?”

“No!” She laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I don’t know, actually. I haven’t asked around, but we just ..can’t kiss in here.”

It’s curious. She didn’t have any issues kissing you in front of people before. Spanish people are very famously more physically affectionate with each other than British people are. So, it seems unlikely that the two of you would turn too many heads just by kissing.

“Okay..” you accept reluctantly, pouting a little at the rejection, “so ..should we just quickly nip outside to do it then, or?” You joke cheekily, pointing to the door with your thumb.

She chuckles with you, resting her forehead to your shoulder. “You’re still as straight as ever!” She grins, as she wraps you back up in her arms.

It’s quite nice just losing yourself in her embrace. Burying your head in her neck and holding her tight against you. Having her arms back around you, her perfume overwhelming your senses. The rest of the coffee shop fades into a blur with her in your arms. She’s comforting, reassuring. She’s real, and she’s here.

“Ale!” Is called out by the barista not a minute later, and you’d have very happily paid it no attention at all. The immediate flinch from the woman that you’re holding, in response to it, however, tells you that you might have just found out a very valuable piece of information indeed.

You repeat it under your breath, as she pulls away from you and goes to collect your coffees from the counter.

She says a quiet ‘moltes gràcies’ to the barista, and she narrows her eyes with a small grimace as she returns to you. There’s still a clear reluctance in her to give too much away, she’s not entirely grateful to her little coffee friend for unknowingly revealing slightly more to you than just her first initial.

Ale. It must still be short for something, you figure. You start reeling off name possibilities at her in quick succession. Alessia, Alex, Alexis, Alexa. You’re like a dog with a bone, because she makes it clear that you’re getting closer, but she still shakes her head at every guess.

It’s very frustrating, as she offers you absolutely no assistance with your guessing, but it can’t be as convoluted a mission as trying to discover Rumpelstiltskin’s ridiculous name. Thankfully, it isn’t. It’s on only your 5th attempt that you cause the same small flinch in her, and she smiles softly at you before looking down very quickly. You’ve struck gold.

Alexia.

It’s a beautiful name. Your favourite name, you’ve decided. It rolls off your tongue with so much ease, you want to repeat it again and again.

“Now you know too much.” She sighs whimsically, handing you your coffee as she walks past you to collect her bag from the table she was previously sitting at.

She gestures for you to follow her and leads you to a quieter area away from the other customers right at the back of the shop. She pulls out your chair for you to sit down, and you can’t not smile at the tiny act of chivalry. She really is very sweet. It’s a shame that she won’t let you kiss her.

You reveal your own name to her, as she joins you on the other side of the table and she repeats it back to you quietly. Whether it’s the sexy Spanish accent, or just the fact that it’s her saying it to you for the first time, you’re not entirely sure, but your heart skips a few beats after hearing it.

“Now we both know too much.” She tells you, and she takes a small sip of her coffee.

There’s the tiniest level of nervousness, that blankets itself over you both as you sit together. It’s a little absurd, you’ve seen this woman naked. She’s seen you naked. It isn’t technically a first date between you, neither of you asked the other to be here, but you both clearly have the little jitters of being on one, coursing through your bodies.

You find yourself just watching her a few times as you talk over your drinks together. You still can’t really believe you found her so quickly. So, you don’t want to risk taking your eyes off of her for too long, in case she just disappears into thin air while you’re not looking.

She’s also the most beautiful sight in the café. So, why would you want to waste your time looking at anything else?

You’re not being very discreet about your staring at all, and neither is she, really. You keep exchanging shy smiles over your cups as you catch each other looking. Both of you blushing and quickly averting your eyes as they meet, and then gradually repeating the whole thing all over again. You’ve definitely caught her gazing a few more times than she’s caught you. So, maybe she’s even more tragic than you are.

The little coffee you ordered by chance, is Alexia’s usual order, so she tells you. It’s not the most life-changing piece of information for her to share with you, but it’s something else for you to know about her, and you’re absolutely sure to make a note of it. It probably keeps you on an even tally too, she already knows that you enjoy drinking a tequila.

You’re still not allowed to kiss each other, for whatever obscure reason, but she has reached for you hand under the table. Interlacing your fingers together isn’t a new thing between you both, and neither are those tingles that immediately shoot up through your arm at even the most innocent of touches from her. She really does have an incredible effect on you, it should probably be more terrifying to you than it is.

“Why are you really here?” She asks after a moment, as she strokes her thumb over your knuckles.

“My sister dragged me here.” You answer. “It’s a very important football match tomorrow, apparently.”

“The one against Chelsea?” She asks, with an unmistakable look of interest in her eyes, that has you rolling your own lightly back at her.

“I think she’d say against Barcelona,” you point out with a sigh, “but yeah, that one.”

You had managed to work out that Alexia was probably a bit of a football fan. She has a little stick figure tattoo of a footballer on her leg, the outline of a baby being given a ball on her back, and you have exceptional detective skills. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

So, it isn’t a surprise that she’d be excited by your footballing interests, but it is unfortunate that you really don’t share the same passion for it as her.

“Unless you’re a very daring rebel,” you start, “I assume you’ll be supporting Barcelona tomorrow?”

“Mhmm,” she murmurs, with a small twinkle in her eye, “and you’ll be supporting Chelsea?”

“Not emphatically,” you admit with a smile, “but I’ll be in that section of the crowd, yeah.”

“You don’t really care about football at all, do you?” She asks knowingly, with an edge to her smirk that’s intriguing, as you shake your head at her in apology. “Maybe you should introduce me to your sister instead, then!” She winks, and you very quickly remove your hand back out of her hold.

“Don’t.” You tell her. “Please. Don’t even joke about it.”

It’s admittedly a little cute that she finds herself quite so hilarious for her disgusting little joke, but you are very unamused by the idea. If the childish look of mischief on her face wasn’t so entirely endearing to you, you may very well have got up and left her right then and there.

She rests the back of her hand on your thigh with her palm outstretched, and you roll your eyes at her before placing your own hand back into it. She raises it to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, leaving you with the faintest of blushes across your cheeks. So, maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive her just this once.

“I have a sister.” She reveals. “Her name's Alba. She’s a few years younger than me. I’m the older sibling, like you are.”

“Uh oh!”

“What?”

“Well, now I really do know too much.” You tell her with a wink.

“My sister’s Emily.” You inform her rebalancing the tally of facts you keep sharing with each other. “Though she’d kill you for calling her that. I think she’d change her name completely if she didn’t think it would upset our Dad so much. She just goes by Em these days ..so ..she probably would have enjoyed your silly little initial idea, actually,” you admit thoughtfully, frowning a little at the realisation, “maybe I really should introduce you to her instead..”

“Por favor.” She says quietly, quickly shaking her head at you and raising your hand to her lips once again. “Don’t even joke about it.”

“Will you be going to the game tomorrow?” You ask, a not-so-subtle attempt at finding out if you might be getting to see each other again so soon. “We’d be like star-crossed lovers in the stands. Very Romeo and Juliet of us!”

“I don’t know that we want to be comparing ourselves to those two! I don’t remember it ending very well for them.” She reminds you, narrowing her eyes at you as her intriguing little smirk returns to her face. “And no. I’m working tomorrow, I won’t be in the stands.”

“Boo. You can’t be that big of a fan, then!” You tut in disappointment. “I’ve come all this way to support my team!”

“Your team!” She chuckles. “Will you be there in a Chelsea shirt?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be in very neutral colours.”

She smiles, nibbling at the inside of her mouth as she lowers her eyes to look at the table. She knocks her hand gently on it a few times before turning her attention back to you. It’s impossible to know what she’s thinking, but she’s definitely debating something silently in her head.

“I could give you a Barcelona one?” She suggests a little cautiously, and you have to smile at the idea. Your sister would certainly disown you if you took one of those back home with you. It’d be worth it, just to see the look on her face.

“You have a very weird habit of offering me your clothes.” You tell her slyly.

“Mhmm. I really like seeing you in them.” She admits sultrily, and your breath catches as her eyes darken looking at you. “I think I have one in my bag, if you want it.”

It’s a surprisingly sexy little offer, and you do quite like having her clothes on your body. It’s hard not to laugh at her peculiarity, though, even your sister isn’t that crazy of a football fan.

“You just ..carry it around with you at all times?” You ask, furrowing your brow as you chuckle at her. “That’s really weird of you! Do you sell them? You go round offering them to unsuspecting tourists? Is that your job? Is it a fake? Are yo—”

“You need to stop trying to know things about me.” She interrupts softly, shaking her head as she chuckles.

“And just ..blindly accept that you always have a football shirt on you?”

“Mhmm.” She giggles, and you narrow your eyes at her.

She really is very curious.

She pulls it out from her little duffle bag from under the table and hands it to you with a gleam in her eye as you take it from her. You push your empty coffee cup to the side and spread the shirt out over the table to study it.

They’re not exactly your colours, but you can probably make them work. You hold it up against you to check that it will suit, and she bites her lip as she watches you. There’s a name printed on the back of it, you realise, and you smile a little as you read it in your head.

“Don’t most adults keep it blank? Or just go for their favourite player?” You ask smirking. You turn the shirt around and rest it over yourself, and she gently bites at the skin around her fingernail as you trace the lettering over your chest. “I thought it was just little kids that got their own name on the back. Do you quite like pretending you’re also on the team?”

“Mhmm ..maybe.” She mumbles, stifling a giggle as she rests her head in her hand. She smiles at you fondly, as she continues gazing at your little shirt inspection.

“That’s really very cute of you.” You tell her, placing the shirt back on the table and leaning over it as you trace your fingers over the number. “Why ‘11’?”

“Hm?”

“11. You have it tattooed on you. You’ve chosen it for your shirt.” You point out. “Is it your birthday? You were born on the 11th? You were born in November? Born on New Year’s Day? Is it just your lucky number? Is it—”

“Stop, trying to know things about me.” She interrupts again quietly, reaching for your hand and meeting you across the table to rest her forehead to yours.

“But I want to know things about you.” You whisper. “I want to know when your birthday is. I’d like to know your surname. I want to know what you do for a living, how you got those scars on your knee, how much you weighed when you were born. The name of your first crush, where you went to school, the meaning behind your tattoos. I want to know each and every incredible milestone you’ve ever achieved, and all the unfathomably boring things that you got up to in between each of them. I want to know every single detail about you, and your life, Alexia. I really, really want to know you.”

It’s quite the thing for you to confess to the poor woman after only meeting her on two separate occasions, but the way her grip on your hand kept tightening as you spoke, the slight clenching of her jaw, and the fact that her lips are dangerously close to yours once again, probably means you haven’t just completely scared her off with it.

“We’d have to spend a lifetime together, trying to learn all of that about each other.” She whispers to you, her lips lightly brushing against yours.

“Is that a proposal?” You chuckle, gently bumping your nose to hers. Your eyes trail to her lips, and it’s really very hard to not act on your impulses. “Am I really not allowed to kiss you in h—“

It seems that you are allowed to kiss her in here, when it’s right at the back where no one’s watching. Or she’s allowed to kiss you, at least, because there's no doubt which one of you instigated this. Her lips move against yours, and your pulse reacts to her immediately.

It's a kiss harbouring an awful lot of emotion, for two people who still hardly know each other. It's slow, passionate, careful, and every confusing little worry that's been plaguing your brain since the last time you kissed, instantly melts away into nothing as her tongue slips back into your mouth. You're the only two people in the world when her hand's pulling you in by the back of your neck, and you’re tugging her closer by grabbing at her shirt.

It’s probably a good job she did decide to take you further away from everybody else, because it doesn’t stay an entirely family-friendly kiss for very long. It’s not wildly inappropriate, you’re not animals, and the bastard table’s in the way of you doing too much with each other. Thank goodness it is, because it’s been over a month, after all, and you’re both clearly quite a bit needy. You really can’t be doing that in public.

“I’ve missed you.” She murmurs against your lips, pulling you impossibly further into her.

“I really missed you too.”

Hours feel like minutes, in Alexia’s company, as you spend the afternoon roaming Barcelona together. She still refuses to tell you everything about herself. You don’t learn her surname, and she still won’t tell you what she does for a living, but you do both share other things about yourselves with each other.

It doesn’t matter how insignificant any of the details probably are. Every single one of them still feels important to you, because it’s another little glimpse into her. Every single fact, story and secret that she shares, is what makes Alexia, who she is, and she was absolutely right, you do find yourself falling more for her, with all of the little things you keep discovering.

She eventually agrees to tell you her birthday. Which makes the whole ‘11’ obsession even more intriguing to you, because the 4th of February ’94 does absolutely nothing to clear that little mystery up. It does tell you that the man in his twenties that you were looking for the night you first met, didn’t even turn out to be a woman in her twenties at all. She turned 30 nearly 3 months ago. She’s absolutely decrepit!

She gives you a tiny tour on your stroll together, bringing some clarity to the Catalonian streets you’ve been carelessly walking down. Explaining the extra confusing writing on the menu board, and casually revealing to you that she can speak 3 different languages. So, your drunken boast about your GCSE level German, probably wasn’t very impressive to her at all.

You’re both approached a fair few times by people asking for directions. You can never understand what it is that they’re saying, and you're not really of much use to them just standing there being awkward. So, you hang off a little to the side taking in your surroundings, waiting for her to help them out, before she excitedly returns back to you. You’re not at all bothered by the interruptions. Your patience with it keeps earning you a quick discreet kiss from her as she wraps her arms around your waist, and you return the same display of affection, for her unrelenting kindness to strangers.

Alexia insists that she isn’t a tour-guide, and she’s also not an actress. So, you are very slowly whittling down the options of what it is she could possibly do for a living. She asks you about your own career, which is incredibly cheeky of her, considering. So, you simply refuse to tell her.

Maybe it’s that competitive streak in you, but if she wants to play it secretive, you can absolutely match her for it. You only agree to give her the corresponding facts to the one’s she’s willing to give to you. That way, if she’s falling for you with each new piece of information the same way that you’re doing for her, at least you’re both crashing down for each other, at exactly the same speed.

There’s slightly less careless abandon with being too physical with each other, walking hand in hand around Barcelona. It’s arguably tame compared to how you both were back in London. Whether it’s the lack of alcohol that’s keeping her more reserved, or maybe just because it isn’t yet nighttime, you’re not entirely sure.

You’re still stealing kisses as you waltz along the streets, but you’re not pushing each other up against the walls of buildings out in the open. Maybe that would be a little indecent of you both. You’re pulling each other down quiet alleyways, instead, pressing yourselves together in secret coves.

It doesn’t feel entirely necessary, the streets you’re exploring aren’t particularly packed with people, but you don’t question it too much. You’ve really just missed having her lips on yours, and whatever capacity she feels comfortable doing it in, you’re more than willing to oblige.

You couldn’t really care less who sees you kissing her. You all but forget that they exist when she's pulling you into her and leaving her mark on you. It is arguably far more exciting, however, trying to be sneaky about it with each other. You're both almost actively searching for places that you're unlikely to get caught in. Finding hidden areas and seeing how much you can get away with together.

Your hands find their way under her shirt on more than one occasion. She really does have the most beautiful body. She jokingly reprimands you for it each time, but she doesn’t really discourage you from doing it. She does continually tease you, for your ever-decreasing signs of straightness, though.

Each newly shared kiss with Alexia, is somehow even better than the last. Whether she’s passionately throwing caution to the wind with you, by kissing down your neck, or trapping your bottom lip between her teeth. Even when she’s just being painfully frustrating, by giving you the quickest of pecks before skipping away. Every single one of them still sets your soul on fire, and they still manage to pull all the air right out from your lungs, every single time.

Alexia waits with you, as it turns to evening, on a bench by the road for your taxi back to your hotel. You try not to let the mild burning in your eyes ruin your final moments with her, but you can feel yourself starting to break.

She pulls out the football shirt from her bag again and holds it out for you to take with a shy smile. “I really hope you enjoy the game tomorrow.” She says, and you try to allow yourself to chuckle a little while nodding your head.

“Mhmm. Thank you, I’ll try.” You tell her, throwing her shirt over your shoulder and quickly rubbing the corner of your eyes. “I’ll have to get Em’s permission to wear this, first. She’ll be very unimpressed with me.”

“Just don’t let her burn it!”

“I won't.” You promise, interlacing your fingers with hers and placing a kiss to the back of her hand. “The other fans might throw tomatoes at it, mind!”

She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple, and there’s that familiar sense of dread in your stomach, as you watch the road, knowing your time together is quickly running out again.

You catch her gazing at you as you turn to her, and maybe there’s a little butterfly or two in your stomach as well, at the way her eyes are watching over you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Mhmm. You haven’t even gone yet,” she tells you smiling, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “and I already can’t wait to see you again.”

“You’re really that certain that you will? You’re still sure you don’t want us to swap numbers?”

“We’ve already bumped into each other a couple of times now. I have no doubt we’ll manage it again.”

It’s nowhere near as reassuring to you as it seems to be to her, but there’s a certain level of romance in her conviction in fortuity. Maybe you are beginning to believe in the possible existence of fate, though you're not completely enamoured by continuing to leave your encounters with Alexia, entirely up to chance. She cradles your head in her hands and gently wipes the tears that are threatening to spill from your eyes with her thumbs.

"I'll never forgive you," you warn her weakly, "if this ends up being it for us."

"Trust me." Is all she asks of you, and she pulls you back into her, resting her head against yours as she runs her fingers over your back.

It feels like an unspoken promise from her, to keep at least trying to find you, and there's a power in her certainty that has you desperate to believe in it too.

It’s still a little hard for you both to say goodbye to each other, but she’s already told you she has a busy day tomorrow, and you can’t really bring her back to your hotel when your sister’s already sharing the bed with you. You share another long hug, and a few more secret kisses before your taxi pulls up, and you finally hesitantly agree to part ways. She places a kiss to your cheek, by way of goodbye as you clamber yourself into the back of the car, setting off without her once again.

You try to reassure yourself, on the taxi ride back to your hotel. You've ran into each other twice, in two separate countries, by pure dumb luck. It can't be impossible for it to happen again. Maybe there’s something connecting you both, an invisible string, an intangible little bungee cord, that's making sure that neither of you is ever able to truly stray too far away from the other. Alexia has ‘no doubt’ that you’ll manage another meeting again, and you take some comfort in knowing, that you still have 2 days left in the city, to do exactly that.

________________

Collapsing back down to lay on the bed in your hotel room, you have a sneaking suspicion, that you’ll have a far better night’s sleep than you’ve managed to have in a long time, tonight. Your mind isn’t spiralling with confusion anymore, and there’s no longer a gaping hole inside of your chest.

There’s an excitement in you, a warmth. An encouraging little hope that you really have found something special. Someone special. That once-in-a-lifetime connection with another person who’s also trapped in this world along with you.

It definitely isn’t the someone you expected to intertwine your soul with. Any younger version of yourself would be very confused about where she’s ended up. It isn’t a connection you want to keep questioning either. It’s not one you really have any doubts on the existence of at all. She’s just it for you, and maybe it’s okay that that’s all you can say to justify it.

You don’t need to be attracted to other women; you don’t really care about your weakening attraction to men. It just makes sense when you’re together with her. There’s no confusion, no uncertainty, there’s no warning alarms ringing out in your head. There’s just Alexia, and the existence of anything and anybody else, will always pale in comparison to her.

Your sister arrives a little after you, plodding back into the hotel room, clearly wiped from whatever individual Spanish adventure she got up to today, and she flops herself into one of the armchairs with a very heavy sigh.

“Long day?” You ask.

“Mhmm.” She mumbles, frowning at you suspiciously. “You look very happy?”

“I am very happy!” You tell her with a smile. You excitedly roll over and reach down the side of the bed to retrieve your souvenir of the day from its hiding spot. You launch it right into your sister’s face and she grunts a little under the impact. “Will you hate me, if I wear that tomorrow?” You ask, trying to contain your newfound enthusiasm.

She pulls it off from where it’s wrapped itself around her head, and she gives you a very unimpressed look. “You bought a Barcelona shirt?” She asks, clearly disgusted with your choice of fashion.

“I was given it.”

“By?”

“..a woman.” You tell her, gently biting your bottom lip as you smile up at the ceiling.

“Mm.” She mutters with a sigh, moving to join you over on the bed. She thwacks the shirt down over your stomach and lets out a huff next to you. “Well, at least she has good taste.” She tells you. “Or she’s just a bit basic.”

That’s a little rude ..and very confusing.

“What do you mean?”

“Going for the best player on the team.”

That’s less rude ..but even more confusing.

“..What do you mean?”

“Are you joking?” She asks, with a very clear tone of annoyance to her voice. She grabs the shirt and thwacks you with it again. “A woman gives you a shirt with a name on the back, and you don’t even care enough to ask who the bloody player is?”

Maybe your head is racing again. That’s incredibly confusing. It really doesn’t make any sense. It’s her name, not a player’s name. Maybe they just share a name. It’s not an incredibly rare name, that’s not impossible.

Your Alexia has a mild interest in football, she’s not playing it professionally. Who would keep that a secret? She’s reticent with sharing information, that’s for certain, but she’s not a bloody liar, and she told you she wouldn’t even be there tomorrow.

No.

She said that she was working tomorrow, and that she wouldn’t be in the stands with you.

Your mind has started racing, and so has your little heart.

“What. do. you. mean?” You repeat slowly, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Alexia Putellas.” She tells you, very nonchalantly, and your brain all but short circuits at the name.

“Who is Alexia Putellas?”

She thwacks you again with your shirt in dismay, and you’ve really had just about enough of being treated like a piñata. You sit up, pull it from her hands and thwack it across her face as you ask her to explain herself.

“She’s a footballer, for fuck’s sake!” She shouts, rubbing the palm of her hand against her eyelid. “She’s Spanish. She plays for Barcelona!” She pulls out her phone, to search for her Instagram and bonks you on the head with it. “That’s Alexia Putellas, you twat.”

You look at the profile, and the hotel room blurs around you. You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, hear the blood pumping around in your ears.

Your Alexia, is Alexia Putellas.

She doesn’t sell shirts for a living, she’s not an actress nor a tour-guide, she really isn’t even a spy. Though she’d probably make a pretty good one, the way she never gave this piece of information away.

Your unexplainable connection with another human being, and she plays football for a living? Clearly very well too, as 2 of her pinned photos have her holding a massive award for it right next to her face. Every other post on her page is about football. She’s Barcelona, through and through.

She’s verified, she has over 3 million followers. She’s been out here, existing on the world’s stage, all this time, without you ever knowing. Your own sister’s been privy to more information about her than you have.

She was in London a month ago for football, according to her Instagram posts. The cryptic little ‘business trip’ she was on, was a quarter-final match against Arsenal. An embarrassingly easy win for Barcelona, she must have been out celebrating it when she found you in that club.

She was back in London again last week for football. You could have seen her then. You missed a chance at an earlier reunion with her, because you refused to go with your little sister to watch her in the first leg against Chelsea.

Your breathing’s very shallow as you scroll through the endless stream of photos. Your mind is absolutely spinning. It’s all a bit much to take in. You lock your sister’s phone and place it back on her chest as you try to collect yourself. You really don’t want to risk learning too much about her. You want her to tell you everything, you don’t want to find it all out behind her back.

You’ve been waiting with bated breath all afternoon, savouring every little piece of information she’s given you, and your smart-arse little sister could probably tell you loads about her if you asked. Lots of the details you’re so desperate to know about Alexia are probably only a quick google search away, but you feel guilty enough just knowing her surname without her having been the one to tell it to you.

She hadn’t been super willing to even give you her first, and no wonder! It’s the single name that’s plastered on her shirt, it’s the name she’s known mononymously as. She’s women’s football’s answer to Beyoncé, Adele.

Of course, she didn’t want to kiss you in front of people in the café, out there on the streets. It’ll be why she only kissed your cheek in front of the taxi driver. She probably is a little liar, because she almost certainly wasn’t giving directions to people when they approached you both. She presumably isn’t old friends with the two men who wanted a photo with her. They all just know who she is. The whole damn city of Barcelona knows exactly who she is.

Maybe she was testing you, waiting for you to crack, to confess to knowing everything about her. How couldn’t you know about her? How unbelievably rude of you.

She’s a celebrity footballer, and you’ve treated her like she’s one of the most normal people in the world. You’ve flirted with her, teased her, kissed her, slept with her, and she’s welcomed it all with that adorable little smirk.

So, maybe she’s liked that you didn’t know, that you really had no idea about who she was at all. You can’t have had any preconceived thoughts about the woman when you’ve had no prior knowledge about her. Perhaps it’s been part of the fun for her, just being with someone who really couldn’t care about the noise surrounding her. Maybe that’s the reason she didn’t really want you knowing about it. Her fame could have changed things, pushed you away.

It wouldn’t have. She’d have to do something intrinsically evil to frighten you off. Especially now, after the afternoon you’ve just spent together, learning more, and falling deeper for her. She’s still just the woman that baffled you with a lime in a nightclub, wound you up by kissing someone else. Rescued you from a night of undeniable regret, and turned it into the start of something magical.

She’s your once-in-a-lifetime connection, your confusing, and frustrating, perfect one-night stand companion. She’s the woman that's turned your whole world on its head, and it just turns out, that she quite likes to kick a ball around, with a bunch of other women for a living, and people from all over the world, have been watching her excel at it for years.

She has to know that you’ll have found out already, you’ve told her your sister’s football obsessed. Even if your sister didn’t know who she is, there’s bound to be other people wearing her name on their backs tomorrow. Probably not many of them were given their shirts by the woman herself. There’ll be even less of them with one of her sweatshirts in their bag.

Maybe she’s excited for you to connect all the pieces together. Giving you her shirt was far too bold a move for her to still not want you to know. She’d have just talked you out of going to the game, if that was the case.

She wants you there, being a very daring rebel, with her name boldly resting between your shoulder blades, rooting for her and Barcelona, right in the middle of the Chelsea fans. You’ll probably stand out like a sore thumb with your red stripes in the sea of blue you’ll be standing in, and maybe that’s exactly what she’s hoping for. She had ‘no doubt’ that you'd see each other again, after all.

“She’s the best player on the team?” You ask your sister dreamily, collapsing back down on the bed and clinging to the shirt in your hand as you hold it against your body.

“Mhmm. Best in the world.” She tells you, and there’s that exhilarating little thrill shooting right up through your body.

“Oof. I’ll tell Sam Kerr you said that!”

She scoffs to the side of you and flicks your forehead playfully. You lift Alexia’s shirt, holding it out in between your fingers to study her name again in disbelief.

You're falling in love, with the ‘best in the world,’ and she seems to be falling for you, too. A little nobody from London, who’s spent the past month pining after who she thought, was a little nobody from Spain. She’s once again turned your whole damn world on its head.

She really is absolutely everything.

“I will hate you if you wear that thing tomorrow.” Your sister warns you, as she hits the shirt with the back of her hand. “I offered you a Chelsea shirt and you gagged at it!”

“I’ve not gagged at this one.” You point out with a grin. “It’s a shame you won’t be friends with me tomorrow.” You tell her, resting the shirt back out over your torso.

“You can’t wear it!”

“I bloody can, and I very much will.” You inform her. “You should rethink wearing a Chelsea shirt. You’ll be very disappointed when we beat you tomorrow.”

“‘We?’ You really are a twat. You’re Barcelona’s biggest fan all of a sudden?”

“Too bloody right, I am!” You tell her decidedly, hugging the shirt against you. “I’ve always loved football, me.”

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine

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goldsbitch · 4 months

Text

Right?

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

warning: swear words, male x female, angst

part 2

______________________________________________________________

You're a professional. Right? Always been, proud of your hard work and strong will. If you want something, you go and get it.

It's by no chance that you're standing exactly here - in the McLaren F1 paddock, in the middle of buzzing neatly organized and timed chaos prior to the start of the race. "Read the grid, feel the paddock" was a line burned to your memory by your first boss, now the Media head of Redbull. You've learned what each and every one of the people do, what their job entails, because one day, one day you want to be more than a photographer for the team's social media.

You're a professional. Had a dream and went for it, no matter the sacrifice or long hours. Always on the road, detached from your peers. Because your heart beats for this.

You'd never do anything to compromise your job. Right?

The hardest part to ignore is his scent. You can evert your eyes when he walks to the room like he owns it - and one would say he actually does, he is the team's no. 1 driver for god sake. His voice can almost be blocked out by focusing on a conversation with a different person or headphones if the situation allows. But his scent seems specifically tailored to messing with your ability to focus, so much sothat you've considered wearing a mask and pretending to be a super freak about germs.

Ironically, scents are hard to recall. And you would know, you've tried several times on lonely nights in hotel rooms, with the goal to make you finish just a little bit faster. A moment you'd really love to forget is standing in a perfume shop trying to figure out what is that magical formula. Because it can't be due to the fact that he is wearing it. Right?

However hard it is for you on the inside, one would never know of your tiny little crush from the outside. Always keeping it casual, with every photoshoot staying professional and holding it together.

It was Lando who had the idea to do more of an intimate (his words, not yours) photoshoot than usually, to spice up the feed, as he bluntly said during a casual PR catch up. This was the reason why you were standing here. In the middle of the forest, alone with a big camera and one light for the subject in question, your biggest crush in history. You were sure he was having a great time putting you outside your comfort zone, the cheeky fuck he was. But then again, he probably really did not give a shit.

"I can't focus if you'll keep looking at me like that," Lando stated like a spoiled child.

"Come again?" you asked, geniuenly confused.

He jumped around few times, as if he was about to run a marathon. "Show a little enthusiam, why so bleh today?"

"You're right, my mind went somewhere else."

"Oh, am I boring you? Well, that's bad. We should be promoting my merch here, but even the person paid to be here can't seem to be bothered!" His tone changed. He raised his eyebrows, challenging you to up your game.

You're a professional. No doubt about that.

Focus, get your head back. Your energy boosted up again, here we go! "Ok, Norris, back to work!" You're well aware that a great photo comes from the subjects ability to connect with the photographer. "You're right, this isn't working. Let's get into the car."

You both left the random wood spot and returned to his sports car that brought you here. "Sit on the driver's seat" you instructed.

"Oh, as if there is a different way this would go down."

"Come on, let's drive around. And be fast," not sure if you were incouraging him or yourself.

"Like the sound of that. Buckle up, otherwise you'll have blurry photos."

And with that he reversed back on the main road.

After about 15 minutes of driving back and forth with a casual drift on the turns, getting pictures of him driving in his new jacket and shades, the adrenaline levels were pretty up in both of you.

"Parked it up here" you instructed again, having him stop on a hill with a view on a city lights in the background. "These are amazing!" you said after a brief look on the photos.

Lando was curious as ever. "Show me!"

"No, you'll see them on the right time. Do you trust me?"

He licked his lips. "Surprise me?"

"Lean back."

You really got into the zone, already super excited for the pictures. They had everything, interesting lighting, composition and Lando was doing an exceptional job with his smiles. However, you knew it could give more.

"This is great Lando, truly great job! But let's do more and push it further, you ok?"

"Just tell me what to do." He looked like he was really enjoying the attention, but you tried to block any of these thoughts out.

"One thing photographers recommend is for the model to try and look into the lens as if you want to seduce it, capture those looking at the picture...It's for making models less focused on the camera and being more attractive..."

Lando pulled out his best smirk yet. "Oh, I'm not attractive enough to be your model now?"

"Come on. You know what I mean."

"Nah, I don't," he lied. "Elaborate, I'm just a simple driver."

Now you were getting annoyed. "Just imagine the lens is someone you want to, em, who you would like to"

"-Fuck?"

"Yes."

"As you wish." And as you asked he did.

He probably did it without much of a thought, but you were perfectly aware of how he fixed his posture, opened his lips a bit, moved his and got this look on as if he wanted to eat you - in the best way possible. This got you in the zone, striking one photo after another, moving your camera and getting closer to get the details, completely forgetting you were both there to shoot his new merch.

Battery low. You would have cursed yourself in that moment. Only you hardly had a second to think about this. When you put your camera down, you realized the nonexistent proximity between you and Lando. You were sitting above him on the back seat with him staring up to you.

You froze for a moment, knowing there is no battery left in the bag.

"Well that is us done for today," you focused on the camera. How on Earth can you be so stupid.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You suddenly realized you were way, way to close to Lando. The damn scent, again.

"Damn, I like these kinds of photoshoots."

"Uhm, yeah." You did not want to move, but it was becoming socially unacceptable for you to be sitting on him for this long.

"Have you done this with Oscar?"

It's hard for you not to laugh at that thought. Every photoshoot with Oscar was a nightmare with the atmoshephere being so dry that everyone with an inch of taste had to tell from the photos immediately.

"Not yet," you said trying to preserve the facade. " But if these work out and the team likes them, we might recreate this with him?"

As if that was even remotely possible. You should move now. Why isn't he moving?

"Shame, thought it was our thing," his voice was becoming more raspy with every sentence.

And with that - you lost it.

"You still have the look." How is this sentence coming out of your mouth?

"What look?" he said, moving even closer to you.

"The models look."

"Remind me which one."

"The "Fuck Me Look"...But I'm not taking photos anymore."

"Interesting."

"Why?" You stopped breathing a while ago.

"Because I think you have it too."

part 2

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris angst #mclaren

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wires-and-hellfires · 1 month

Note

Hi could you do Alastor x Vox's sister that's staying at the hotel. Vox didn't know they were in hell and they are not a tech demon like him if this makes any sense.

Vox only realized it was his sister because unlike her brother who's good with tech she opposite like the best equivalent comparison I can think of is someone who's so bad at cooking that they could burn water.

Sorry for the long request you dont have to do it if you don't want to

look at how well you took care of me

Pairing: Alastor & fem! reader (queer-platonic), Vox & sister! reader

Description: Vox comes to the realization that he may have made a mistake... he can only hope it's not too late.

Warnings: The battle in episode 8, violence, murder, injuries, alcohol, Alastor as a warning in itself, Rosie being Rosie,

Author note: Hi hi! Thanks so much for the request!!! I don't write romantic relationships for Alastor, but I loved this idea so I hope a QPR is okay! The title is from "Whispers of Your Brother's Blood" btw. This was tons of fun to write and it kinda got away from me but hopefully it's okay.

Part 2 with a reunion coming soon!

Meeting Alastor was likely the best thing that happened in your entire life, including your time on Earth and in hell.

You weren't stupid. You knew how Alastor treated people, hell, how he used to treat you, and yet, somewhere along the way he showed you more kindness than anyone else.

You met through Rosie, which was likely the best way to come face-to-face with the radio demon.

Rosie found you when you first arrived in hell, and despite very obviously considering eating you, she saw potential of some sort. Perhaps it was your steady gaze or the way you gripped the broken glass in your bloody hand like a knife, but she took you in and showed you life in hell, even if you didn't share her... dietary choices.

When Alastor came for their weekly gossip session meeting, she introduced you two. At first, he seemed to disregard you. You didn't mind.

You did your best work behind the scenes anyhow.

Alastor mentioned a man from the Weapons District who had been speaking badly of Rosie, laughing that he was practically volunteering to be a guest on his broadcast. You could hear the static in his voice from your spot in an armchair across the room. He wasn't joking.

Which meant you had to act first.

Later that night, you bid farewell to Rosie with a smile, claiming you had errands to run, which to be fair, wasn't entirely untrue.

The man was easy to find thanks to Alastor's description. He reeked of cheap booze and tobacco, already drunk in the bar you tracked him to.

Sliding up to him with promises of "a good time" and more booze, he stumbled out of the bar after you, straight into the back alley.

He was dead within 10 minutes. A mugging gone wrong, they'd say.

How tragic.

During the next meeting between Alastor and Rosie, Alastor invited you to sit with them, much to Rosie's delight. And if his smile seemed a bit too knowing and he made a few jokes about drunks in dark alleys? Well, that could stay between the two of you.

And that's where it started.

Every visit, regardless of what you were doing, Alastor would ask if you'd like to join them. You three would chat over tea, sharing gossip and talking shit. You couldn't tell if he genuinely enjoyed your company or if he just found you entertaining, though you suspected those two things weren't too different with Alastor.

And when someone was a bit too careless with their opinion about Alastor in the bar you frequented one night? The radio demon didn't need to make an appearance, you would destroy that scum yourself-

The next day, Alastor paid you a visit personally.

In the parlour, he expressed an interest in your... skillset, laughing about how you worked in the darkness.

He offered you a deal for your soul.

Whatever care he had developed for you likely saved your life when you refused.

"Partners or nothing," you had offered. When his grin sharpened, you knew he was intrigued.

He was the flashy showman, broadcasting the screams of overlords and inspiring fear across all of hell.

And you?

You were the shadow on the wall, charming those who would be too stubborn or too afraid to usually talk, convincing them to give away the information you needed to build your empire further.

Those who knew of your existence understood the consequences of speaking out. The radio demon didn't take well to those who threatened you.

In a dangerously comforting way, it all felt far too close to your life on earth. Sure, you weren't killing nearly as much back then, but flirting for information, gathering secrets and destroying those who opposed you or those close to you?

Yeah, that was familiar.

Your brother would be proud, you thought.

Or maybe he'd be just as unappreciative as he was in life.

Half a decade at Alastor's side, the two of you taking the phrase "partners in crime" very literally.

As a show of trust, he once allowed you to help with a broadcast, as long as you promised to keep quiet. Admittedly, he quickly discovered your... less-than-ideal skills with technology, but you appreciated the thought nonetheless.

You relied on one another. You leaned on him and he would lean back.

And then he disappeared.

No goodbye, no warning at all, not even a body.

Just... gone.

After five years, you moved into an apartment in Cannibal Town, further isolating yourself. Finding work wasn't difficult, but you refused to use your skills for just anyone, and there were few people you trusted more than Rosie.

You arrived late one night, two years into working with Rosie. Setting the keys down on the counter, the dull buzz of static spread through the room.

Alastor was holding you before you even hit the ground, legs giving out in relief.

And yes, he wasn't the most physically affectionate demon, but for you?

For you, he could make an exception.

The hotel could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he had apologies to make and a partner to comfort.

The next day, after Alastor pitched his ideal to the princess of hell, he brought in Niffty, Husk and you as help, and if everyone thought you were a soul under his command, well, it was easier that way.

However much you didn't want to admit it, you grew to care for everyone. Losing at cards with Husk, cooking lessons with Angel, sparing with Vaggie, watching musicals with Charlie, crafts with Niffty, failing at inventing with Sir Pentious...

And doing absolutely everything with Alastor. After his reappearance, you were reluctant to let him out of your sight, and the radio demon was all too willing to keep you close, even if Husk seemed concerned over it.

Which was probably why when Alastor tried to get you to leave during the night before the battle, you refused.

You could tell his desperation to keep you safe drive you out of the hotel by the static in his voice, his subtle requests turning to false threats and finally a plea that neither of you would admit to leaving his mouth.

"I'm a lot of terrible things, Alastor, but I am not disloyal. I will stand tomorrow with you and everyone else. You're not leaving me again."

And for the first time that you've met him, he lets it go. No further bargaining or attempts to trap you, just a sigh and "Whatever you want, my dear," with a tighter smile than usual.

The next day, everything goes to shit.

Alastor and Adam are fighting, with Alastor firmly kicking his ass.

Then Sir General Pentious yells to unjam a cannon near you, and while pushing random buttons and gesturing angrily, you scream, "I don't know how to use this shit!"

You don't see the VoxTech drone nearby recording everything for the Vee's future entertainment.

With your back turned, you cry out at the feeling of a spear slicing across your back.

The pain of the blow sends you stumbling forward into the side of the cannon, causing it to finally go off, turning the angel behind you into pieces.

The force behind the machine sent you crashing into the wall of the hotel next to Angel, who turned to you in shock.

At the sound of your pain, Alastor's focus breaks for only a second.

It's enough for Adam to gain the upper hand, breaking his staff in two and sending him to the ground.

As he fades into the shadows, he focuses on your energy signature and pulls you into the darkness alongside him.

Across hell, at the top of V Tower, Vox swore wildly at the screen.

What a fucking coward!

Alastor running away to die off camera had to be the biggest disappointment in his entire afterlife.

Scratch that, second biggest disappointment. Still a pretty big bummer though.

Saving the other views of the battle for later inspection, he and the other Vee's watched as Lucifer slammed Adam into the dirt in delight.

It was 3 hours after the extermination was cancelled that he found the footage of you and the cannon. Of you hitting the wall and disappearing, but you're not dead, you can't be dead oh please not again-

How long have you been in hell? He assumed that you had been killed permanently before he arrived in hell after you, or maybe you'd even been sent to heaven, despite your sins. If anyone deserved to be forgiven, it was you.

But no, no no- You'd been here, the whole time, in that stupid hotel with fucking Alastor-

Vox's fans speed up in an attempt to keep his whole system from crashing.

Your appearance had changed, sure, but he would recognize the sight of you cussing out technology anywhere.

He would recognize his little sister anywhere, even in death.

This was all his fault.

You and Vox grew up close. Always the two of you, there could be no one else, the sheltering of your parents ensured that.

Over time, Vox's mastery of technology grew, and so did his influence. When he needed someone he could trust to keep things clean and running in the background, you were the obvious choice.

He took you for granted, Vox knew that now. You had argued about something stupid before a job one night, he couldn't even remember what he said, only that he went too far. When you left to go do some "clean up" for a previous situation, he resolved to properly apologize for once when you got home. And to say thank you. He wouldn't forget this time.

But you never came back.

You were found shot dead in an alleyway by a couple of employees from a nearby bar later that night.

Did Vox send you on a job that was too much for you? Were you distracted from the argument?

Either way, it was his fault you were dead. His fault the one person he loved, his baby sister, lay in a casket.

It didn't take long for him to get put into the ground himself.

Arriving in hell felt like a second chance. He would find you and everything would be alright again.

And yet, you were nowhere to be seen.

The drones around the hotel (or what was left of it) circled, scanning for a sign that you were there. That his ignorance hadn't killed you for a second time.

On the screens, the clean-up of the rubble continued.

Vox twitched.

Vox hadn't prayed since he was a child in the front pews of the neighbourhood church. Back when purity was still an option and repentance was unnecessary.

Now, he didn't know who he was pleading to. Does God listen when demons pray?

Please. Please, let her live. Let Alastor have saved her. Let me make this right.

Please.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #alastor & reader #alastor x reader

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saerins · 2 months

Text

PREV: #002 PLAYING DOMINO 𖧧 #003 THE FIRST RIPPLE 𖧧 NEXT: #004 THIS SPARK, IS IT REAL? ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — ever since the first meeting, you’ve proven to be an anomaly. and yet again, sae finds himself out of character, doing things he didn’t think he would.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. angst/fluff, profanity, physical/verbal abuse, violence, mentions of infidelity, broken homes, unrequited love, manipulation/gaslighting. word count: 6.7k

༝༚༝༚ more yn and sae for this chapter yay !! ty to all of you who are reading this heh mwah you guys are my motivation <3 let’s hope i keep this pace up so some of you can get the tea faster :p

somehow, the fact that you’d managed to help land an interview with itoshi sae has given you some perks at work. (you’d let sumi take the credit for it, but considering your voice is on the recording, it was hard to deny your involvement.) the best of it all? sumi’s right; mr tatsuji is so absolutely pleased that he barely bothers to visit your department to chide any of you.

that way, at least if your personal life is a mess, your career is not. (for now.)

after three days of staying over at eita’s, you’re finally lugging your feet back home today. besides, he has a date and you’re not about to play third wheel when he inevitably comes home with her.

that’s otoya eita for you.

he insisted that it’s fine and if he really wanted to get some that he’d bring her to a hotel, but you’d really rather not get used to putting up at someone else’s house. especially when, technically, you do have a place to stay.

as you unwillingly (and slowly, painachingly) trudge back to your apartment, you can’t help but revisit your messages with sae. ever since you told him you’d let him follow you if he made a private account, he hasn’t responded since.

were you just in over your head? maybe he was just bored and was passing time by texting you. maybe he didn’t really mean it. maybe someone else took his phone and texted you just to make fun of you.

time to time, you still think of the night you met, how his eyes fluttered close, how he stayed rooted in position, how you would’ve actually done it out of curiosity if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a public place with cameras littering every few inches of space.

you sigh, locking your phone and tossing it back in your purse. in the end, maybe itoshi sae really is just someone for you to admire from afar. maybe that’s for the best; you can’t imagine how it’d even feel like dating someone who has such a big spotlight cast on him.

the evening air is chilly, the lights of the nearby shopping mall a warm golden, the sea of people walking past you soon to drown out. if you didn’t know better, you’d think you’re living a privileged life—being able to live in such a nice district, with a better-than-average apartment that had been fully paid for since you were born. and if life had been kind to you, then maybe you’d like living at home more than you do now.

but as it is, going home only serves as a reminder to all your problems. unescapable, unavoidable, unbearable. and maybe it’s not such a good move for you to depend on eita a lot to be your escape, to help you forget about all of it, at least when you’re with him, but you can’t help it. escapism feels nice. it’s nice to be around someone who knows about it and still accepts you, even though you and him don’t see eye to eye about it most of the time.

your stomach’s growling, and the macarons at the bakery’s display that you walk past are both nostalgic and tempting. but you can’t afford that.

something as simple as a box of macarons.

hang in there for the long term, you tell yourself. one day, you’ll get everything back.

not ten minutes later, you’re at your own doorstep, hesitating to even enter. through the door you can hear the sound of the television. it’s loud and playing some drama that always airs at this timing. you’ve heard the same voices so many times before.

it’s funny to think that these sounds used to feel like home to you.

either way, you have to get this over and done with, so you slot your key in and walk through the door, carefully toeing off your shoes as though being quiet would make you escape her notice.

“and where did you go off to the last few days? can’t even come home and be a dutiful daughter and eat with her own mother?”

it hasn’t even been five seconds.

all that ever awaits you at home now is the vile spit of your mother’s. it’s laughable because all she says is nonsense. you haven’t eaten on the same table together in years, even if you have been living under the same roof.

some part of you can’t help but be defiant. you know it’s a bad idea, but she’s out of line, and yet you’re still helping her. and you can’t figure out why.

“how about you be a dutiful mother and stop spending all your daughter’s money and go find a job?”

there’s a sharp sound that bounces off the walls of the living room quicker than you can expect it, and it takes you five seconds and the sting on your cheek to realise your mother had just slapped you with all her might.

not an ounce of hesitation or regret. there is only fury in her eyes as she looks down at you, summoning every bit of disdain she can muster.

of course, how could you forget? this is what you get for talking back to her. it’s been a while since she’d last laid a hand on you, so maybe you’d gotten cocky, thinking she wouldn’t do it again.

“is this all you’re good for? you’re not using that filthy mouth to jack people off so you’re using it to spite me?”

there’s a lot you want to say.

you want to talk back to her again, to say that she’s the useless one out of the two of you. the one who doesn’t work yet gambles all day. the one who spent all the savings and insurance money so she’s fully depending on you month to month.

you want to tell her that you’re not some whore who goes around fucking everyone you see. she always hated eita, but that’s because he knows she’s no good. that’s also why you never tell him if she lays her hand on you. you don’t want to get them into any altercations. you also want to tell her eita’s taken better care of you than she ever has, and you don’t even have to jack him off for it.

but you stay silent.

because silence is the most comfortable you can get with her. no matter what you say or do, it will never suffice for her. she wants money, and she’s only angry because you haven’t been home to give it to her. it’s why you lock your own door every time you head out or go to sleep. you don’t want to find your own belongings gone by the time you’re back. neither do you want to find her snooping around your room in the middle of the night.

both of which have happened before.

taking advantage of your shock, she yanks your purse out of your hand, fishing for your wallet and grabbing all the cash she can find before tossing it back to you.

there’s no mercy in her eyes as she glares at her own daughter, the one she carried herself in her womb for nine whole months and once sworn to love. and now she blames the same little girl for ruining her body and refuses to take responsibility for her.

“listen, be a good girl and just give me what i ask for okay?” her tone is nothing but condescending and threatening. “if you’d just behave yourself, i wouldn’t have to do shit like that. think a little, would you?”

the demon that is your mother speaks as if you’re in the wrong, sighing to herself as she lights a cigarette and walks away, stuffing your hard-earned money in her purse before making for her room and slamming the door as she completely disposes of you for the day. she already got what she wanted, after all.

utterly defeated, you completely forget about your hunger, retreating into your room, locking the door behind you and falling to the floor. your vision blurs and your cheek still stings. you wonder if it’ll leave a mark like it did the last time.

your phone vibrates once.

blurry vision aside, you can tell it’s eita from the name alone. his talk to me if you need anything, okay? is bright on your phone screen, the only light in this room because you don’t have the energy to turn on the lights. you’re not feeling exceptionally hopeful today. the dark seems just right.

you’re thankful that you have a friend like him. you probably don’t deserve how nice he is to you. but you don’t want to talk to him. you don’t think you want to talk to anyone.

maybe just one person.

but he’s six foot under and inaccessible to you.

you’re not sure when you made it onto your bed—your head’s a mess. it always is when you speak to her. that’s why you scream into the pillow, willing your energy away, trying to drown your thoughts with your voice, dreaming of the day you can break free from this cycle.

thunder, pitter patter, raindrops against the windowsill.

the lightning helps you make out the time from the clock on the wall above your door.

1am. your lips are chapped and the tears are dry against your cheeks. you’d subconsciously slept on the right side, your left still aching from earlier.

slowly, you get up, legs crossed and sitting on your bed, your earlier distress dissipated just slightly, mind a little clearer. (and always questionable.) your phone’s dead and you honestly don’t really care—what you do care about is your stomach’s incessant growling.

it wouldn’t take a genius to know that your mother cleared out all the food in the kitchen. it looked barren earlier from what you could see, maybe just a couple slices of bread and some condiments. you wouldn’t want to start cooking in the middle of the night either, lest she wakes up and you have even more to deal with.

the rain starts to lighten up by the time you’re out of the house, comfortable in your oversized windbreaker. you walk slowly, your slides already soaked from walking in the rain. it’s a nice cooling temperature, the wind in your face making you feel refreshed, like everything that’s horrible could be just a dream.

if only.

a light ten-minute walk later, you’re browsing through the aisles of the convenience store, wondering which brand of processed food is worthy to be your dinner. you hover between the cup noodles on the shelves and the sandwiches in the chiller, taking your time because home is not a place you’re exactly aching to go back to.

can you even call it a home at this point?

eventually, you waltz out of there with a warm tub of noodles, palms relishing in its warmth and your nose inhaling every last bit of its aroma.

dinner could be better, but you suppose you can’t complain when you’re trying your best to save up. after all, it’ll be a pain if your mother figures out the stash of savings you’re hiding. the last thing you want is for her to steal that away from you. then how would you ever move out on your own?

shaking your head as you settle down on a park bench on the opposite side of the road, you decide to throw those thoughts aside for now. it’s not a current problem that you need to mull over right now and destroy your mood. no, right now, what you need is just a peaceful night.

what’s past (earlier) is past.

even though it’s easier said than done when your tears start flowing one by one, and suddenly these noodles are saltier than you remember.

“sure you can’t come?”

sae looks at bianca through the passenger side window, her pout ever present. “nah, i’m tired. besides, if i oversleep who’s gonna drive you to the airport, huh?”

bianca grins at him, seemingly pacified. she reaches a hand into the car, perfectly manicured nails in full view before she clenches it into a fist, holding just a pinky out. “promise you’ll see me off tomorrow?”

there’s something between the lines that sae doesn’t get, nor is he sure he wants to. in all honesty, he’s not even sure why a promise is wanted here but he sticks out his pinky all the same anyway, because he’s pretty sure he won’t miss the alarm when it rings.

“yay, see you!”

“see you,” sae echoes as she bounds towards her friend’s place, ready for a last night of catching up over a game of cards before she flies back to america. as she disappears from his view, he wonders why she even tried to invite him in the first place. they’re her friends, he’s not really needed there anyway.

tuning out of those thoughts, sae drives off, already planning the remainder of the night. it’s 1am, and it’ll be near two by the time he makes it back to his apartment. that leaves him around a six hour sleep before he has to get up and send bianca off.

now that he’s thinking about it, since when has it become routine for him to send her off every time?

before he can even gather his thoughts about it, he steps on the brakes abruptly, wondering what the hell is wrong with some people to not be looking at both sides of the road before they cross, nearly pressing on the honk before something tells him not to. it’s distracting; the fact that the passing silhouette looks familiar and yet not at all.

against his better judgement, he pulls over by the side of the road, deciding to trust his gut. it’s late at night and there’s no reason for it but is that really you sitting on a park bench eating cup noodles past one in the morning? alone?

sae steps out of the car, mask on, pulling his hat down and his hoodie over his head to conceal himself, though some might argue he looks like he’s about to kidnap someone like this. he’s painfully aware this is dumb, and there’s no point to this, because what if it is you? it’s not like he has any reason to talk to you.

he stops midway, checking his phone and scrolling to your messages, his okay still sitting in the text box, unsent. fuck, he didn’t even realise until now. it didn’t help that he had a hectic schedule back to back for the past few days either. he never got around to creating that private account. he’ll just have to do it later.

a fleeting thought comes to him, wondering if you thought he was just pulling your leg about wanting to follow you. sure seems like it to him.

but he continues walking towards that park bench, towards that girl he thinks might be you, without knowing whatsoever what his next move will be. all he knows is that if that really is you, he’d rather say hello than say nothing at all.

even if it means making a detour that would undoubtedly make him endlessly tired the next day. for some reason.

and call him crazy, but as he draws closer, even without seeing your face, he knows it’s you somehow.

there’s something off about you, he doesn’t know what it is yet, but he can feel it. maybe he’ll find out. maybe he’ll try.

“hey, rude girl.”

just by the way your body stiffens up, he knows you recognise his voice. you choke on your noodles, coughing a little and rubbing your face before you whip your head upwards to face him, your eyes going wide with surprise.

“itoshi sae?”

why doesn’t he like it when you call him by his full name? it sounds weird, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“what are you doing here? do you live in the area?” you ask, setting your almost-empty cup of noodle on the bench. your voice is a little hoarse than he remembers, and your eyes are slightly puffy. there’s a faint swollenness on your left cheek, something he can see you’re desperately trying to hide behind your hair. it’s not really working.

he shakes his head, hands in his jacket pocket. “no, i was just dropping my friend off.” his eyes shift from you to the noodles. “supper?”

sae notices your eyebrow twitch ever so slightly, your nostrils flaring a little before you grin at him. “yeah, i missed lunch so this is me making up for it,” you giggle, offering a thumbs up.

is it bad to say he doesn’t believe you? you’re alone in the middle of the night on a park bench eating instant noodles with a slightly swollen cheek. yet you’re in front of him acting like nothing’s wrong.

this is already far from what he’d usually do. if you were anyone else, he would’ve just drove past and forgotten in a few days that he ever saw them. but as it is, here he is, standing in front of you, car parked illegally by the curb, just to verify that it really is you for no apparent reason.

still, he’s glad he did. you look like you’ve gotten a year’s worth of bad news judging by the state you’re in. and sae usually doesn’t cater to people, expects people to tell him what they need, not make him guess, but he’s already guessing what you might need.

your stomach is still growling, though you’re trying to hide it by slumping on the bench, arms over your stomach. sae has no idea why you feel like you have to hide, or who probably slapped you in the first place, but he finds himself disposing of your noodles before he’s grabbing you gently by the hand, tugging you along with him.

“hey, uh, where are we going?”

despite your shallow hesitation, sae feels your fingers curl around his palm. his heart skips a beat. he stops in his tracks, turning back around to face you. there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring inside him when he looks into your eyes.

his free hand comes up to remove his cap, putting it over your head and pushing it down to fit better. he doesn’t have a mask for you, but it’ll do. something tells him you don’t really want other people to see your face right now. and while the circumstances are different, he supposes he understands how it feels.

maybe you think he’s doing this because he’d rather not be papped with a girl, rather not have any more dating rumours. he’ll let you keep thinking that. he’ll keep acting like he doesn’t see the wound you’re desperately trying to hide.

for now.

“i’m hungry, eat with me,” is all he tells you before he resumes dragging you along behind him, calloused hands wrapping over your own.

sae’s not hungry in the least. he’d eaten probably three meals worth of food with bianca before this since she’d dragged him to a korean barbecue joint.

but you’re hungry. you’re starving and you’re not acting like it and you don’t say a thing about it—he doesn’t really get you.

he wants to.

maybe that’s why he’s doing all this. maybe that’s why he lets you in his car, drives to an izakaya he knows all too well. maybe that’s why he keeps stealing glances at you in the car, and maybe that’s why he feels a little warm inside when he catches you smiling to yourself.

as you sit silently beside him as he drives, your fingers fiddle nervously with each other. never did you think that you’d end up in sae’s luxurious car tonight of all nights. as if it wasn’t apparent enough before, after seeing his car, this definitely looks like a life that’s far beyond your reach.

you wonder if sae is the type of person who likes cars. it’s never indicated anywhere if he is. you recognise the brand; you don’t know the exact model but it’s a maserati, wrapped a matte black, at that. the interior leather seats are comfortable, and his air freshener smells nice.

on top of that, he’s driving you to someplace because he’s hungry too. talk about luck and coincidence.

you were thinking of just taking a short walk before going back home, but you’d take his invitation over that any day. you’re not sure where he’s taking you, but your feet are tapping in anticipation, though you hope it’s not anywhere expensive because you’re definitely not dressed the part.

beside you, sae’s not exactly dressed in anything fancy, but with looks like that? he would look expensive dressed in anything.

“quit staring,” sae mumbles, and you hurriedly avert your gaze, embarrassed at getting caught although you snicker a little when you catch the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “what are you laughing at?”

you try to suppress a grin, biting on your lower lip. “you’re not as uncaring as the internet makes you seem,” you ponder out loud.

sae accepts your train of thought. he’s well aware that’s how he comes off in real life too. “and?” it’s a red light so he stops the car, turning his head to look straight at you.

is he asking you what you think of him?

you feel your heart skip a beat. he’s pretty, and he’s staring at you with those clear teal eyes of his and it makes you want to drown in them for some reason. he’s not as unfeeling as he comes across, and for him to bother taking you with him just to eat must mean you don’t fall into the category of people he finds to be just a waste of time.

you want to know what this is.

“i don’t know, you’re like a cat,” you shrug, reverting back to your unserious self. “but i’ll let you know again once i get to know you better, itoshi sae.”

he looks away, the green light barely seeping through his windows. he doesn’t understand. “if you even get that far, that is.” (he likes how you already assume you’ll get to know him more. are you looking to spend more time with him?)

you grin, making an internal bet with yourself. “just you wait,” you tell him, confident in your abilities. “i have a habit of growing on people.”

(sae chuckles internally, because he doesn’t doubt you. you already are.)

“are you sure this place is open?” you ask, discreetly tapping lightly on your cheeks, deciding that maybe you look just fine now. and it doesn’t seem like there’s a soul here anyway.

once sae parks his car into the lot, you take his cap off and look around, the sleek stand-alone three-storey building looking completely closed on the outside. there’s no other cars parked here—surely they’re not still open?

sae takes his keys out of the ignition, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. he looks nonchalant for the most part. “don’t worry, i know the owner, let’s go.”

you shrug to yourself, placing his cap neatly on the dashboard before getting up. he waits and observes as you get out of his car, making sure you’re beside him before he starts walking towards the restaurant. you notice him matching your pace, with you shamelessly adjusting it just to check.

before he enters through the doors, he looks at you, “there’s no one else around. just the owner’s nephew who’ll be cooking for us.”

the shopkeeper’s bell chimes as he makes his way inside, holding the door for you, and you wordlessly enter, even though you’re wondering why he feels the need to tell you that. is it because you look like a mess and he thought you’d care?

it’s cosy and warm inside, classical music filling the air, every table wiped spotlessly clean that they’re shining as the lights from the ceiling bounce off of their surfaces. there’s nobody you can see here, are they in the kitchen?

sae puts his fingers around your wrist this time, walking you through the restaurant, meandering expertly like he’s been here a thousand times. your eyes fall to his fingers; they’re gentle yet firm, and you’re only hoping he doesn’t realise how fast your pulse is right now.

in the end, you find yourself seated across from him on a tatami seating in a private room, browsing through the menus that are already placed on the table.

“order anything you want,” sae says, not looking up from his menu.

you hum in excitement as you start to really look at all the options you have. “oh? if you say it like that i’m not gonna hold back, you know,” you joke around, though sae doesn’t really sense it.

he just shrugs, “sure, go ahead.”

sae ends up regretting it though, not because you’re shamelessly spending a lot on his card, but because he finds out you’re the type to over-order. by the time the food is all cooked and sent to the table, sae’s eyebrows twitch, eyes flicking over across the room to look at you, grinning from ear to ear.

“both of you must be starved, huh?”

you look to the side, only now noticing the guy in the white chef’s coat that came to deliver the food. he has curly light brown hair, with eyes a shade or two darker. a grin is plastered on his face, and by the way sae speaks to him, it seems like they know each other quite a fair bit.

“oh, by the way, this is naruhaya,” sae introduces to you, and the guy holds his hand out for you to shake. “this is y/n.”

“nice to meet you!”

naruhaya’s beaming, a contrast to sae’s usual stoic expressions, but he’s back to small talk with the latter in a second. you leave them to it, until your ears perk up when he mentions a certain model’s name.

“hey, weren’t you with bianca earlier? where’s she?”

bianca—that name isn’t unfamiliar to you. after a crash course from sumi (because somehow she decided you need to know more gossip about itoshi sae after getting to know him in person), you had learned that she’s the model that sae is most rumoured to actually be with. and you’ve seen her from the pictures sumi shoved up your neck—she’s beautiful.

was she the friend he was dropping off earlier?

“meeting her other friends. anyway, sorry to keep you open.”

naruhaya waves it off with his hand. “it’s fine, i was gonna stay and try to whip up some new recipes anyway,” he says, before shooting you a knowing look. what exactly it means, you have zero idea. “i’ll leave you two to it, enjoy!”

once he leaves, you begin to dig in, lathering your meat with sauce, unashamedly inhaling your food because that earlier stint with your mother was entirely too much and you need to destress.

somehow, with sae being as nice as he is, you feel a teeny bit guilty for trying to dupe him into that interview. but you doubt that if you’d asked him normally that you would be here with him tonight so maybe there’s some merit in being reckless like that.

“what’re you smiling about now?” sae sighs, taking a piece of meat and putting it over his rice. “pleased that you’re getting a free meal or something?”

partly. but mostly, you’re pleased that you get alone time with him somehow. maybe it’s stupid, and maybe you sound like half of the female population in the country, but you can see why people ogle over him. if they got to know him like this, then you’d have no doubt that he’d manage to charm their pants off.

though, something tells you he doesn’t treat people like this often, let alone someone he barely knows.

“mhm,” you agree, shit-eating grin on your face because there’s no way you’re going to be so upfront about it. the last thing you want is to ruin a friendship when it’s barely started.

yeah, maybe that’s what you want—friendship. is it weird if you say that itoshi sae gives you the feeling that you can trust him? the last time someone made you feel that way was eita. but somehow, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t explain.

as you’re both digging in, you ask him whatever you’re curious about; how he got into soccer, what his life was like growing up, everything under the sun, only because he entertains you like he did that very first night.

“you ask a lot of questions, are you gonna ask me to get another interview approved or something?” he asks, deadpan as he slurps up the soba.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “no. i just want to know you.”

sae stills at your honesty, this being one of the rare times you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. thump, thump, thump—it’s weird how you make him so aware of his heartbeats when you’re with him. it’s weird how he feels the same way.

then, he sees a familiar sight, you reaching your hand out across the table, your pinky pointed towards him. “i promise you, no hidden agendas this time.”

he swallows the lump in his throat, hooking his pinky with yours before he knows it, the inexplicable emotions only growing by the second.

even though he’s curious about you too, something tells him that you won’t answer him seriously. not tonight. so he keeps it to himself. he’ll find a chance to ask you next time.

if there is a next time.

he’ll just have to make it happen.

halfway through the dinner, you have about a quarter of the food left and sae looks like he’s about to burst. he didn’t really look hungry to you, eating slowly all the way. you probably ate at least twice as much as he did.

“you sure you were hungry?”

“not anymore,” sae deflects, putting his chopsticks down. he looks at you, leaning back and staring at the leftovers in awe. he almost snorts from how dazed you look. “i’ll get naruhaya to pack these, wait here.”

“thanks,” you call after him, knowing just how much of a food coma you’re going to be in once you’re back home.

sae stares at his phone as he navigates through the corridors to find the kitchen; it’s already 2.30am. time passes really fast with you for some reason. usually it’s a bore to sit with people he barely knows, they normally can’t keep a conversation. either that or he doesn’t really click with them. (as evident in the many times he was put in the same room with friends of friends and all that was there is awkward silence and forced conversations.)

not you though.

you’ve always been interesting. you’re intriguing, and a little bit more daring than he’s used to. you’re not that shy, by what he could tell when you so effortlessly reached across the table and snapped a picture of the both of you eating, telling him you want to give him something to remember you by.

as if that’s your last meeting.

he looks at the picture in his photo album. a subtle smile tugs on his lips, and there’s a flutter in his heart that he can’t seem to ignore.

maybe he’s jumping the gun but… he thinks you could be worth any amount of sleep he’s going to lose.

naruhaya enters the private room alone, armed with takeaway boxes, and you smile sheepishly at him as he does. sae must be in the bathroom if he’s here alone.

“sorry, i think i ordered a little too much,” you apologise, rubbing the back of your head. “but it’s all really delicious, really.”

it really is. you’ve never had meat so tender before, and you’re almost sad thinking you’ll probably never get to eat this again. not with the price tag on it.

“relax, i believe you,” naruhaya hums as he carefully places the leftovers in boxes. “so, how’d you get to know sae? photoshoot?”

you narrow your gaze at him, pressing your lips into a faint smile. “if you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working,” you joke, before shaking your head. “no, no, i’m not a model. i’m just a friend of a friend.”

naruhaya blinks at you like he’s surprised. “whose?”

“eita. otoya eita. why?”

“oh, it’s nothing. just… surprised sae brought another girl here for once,” naruhaya laughs nervously, packing the boxes into a clear bag. “usually it’s either oliver and gang or, well, bianca. but i haven’t seen her here in a while, actually.”

you get the feeling that sae and bianca are really, really close.

“i think he just came here on a whim,” you brush it off. “we only met a week ago so i doubt you’ll see me here again anyway.”

naruhaya’s mouth forms an ‘o’, before it reverts back to that knowing smile again. both of you hear footsteps against the wooden floors of the izakaya, so naruhaya takes this chance to whisper in your ear.

“i think… you must be pretty special then, huh?”

before you can even ask him what he means by that, sae strolls through the door, oblivious to the earlier conversation, gaze pointed to you. “ready to go?”

you nod, taking the bags from naruhaya as sae escorts you out of there. “bye, naruhaya! i love your cooking!”

he laughs as you wave enthusiastically to him, and he winks at you right before sae turns around to look at him. “oi, sae, bring her over anytime, okay?” to which sae only waves it off, leaving you to wonder if you’ll ever actually see naruhaya again.

“you keep those,” sae tells you after the both of you get into his car, referring to the takeaway boxes. he’d told naruhaya to give you some extra meat, just in case. if he remembered right, eita once said you have quite the appetite.

he pulls out of the parking lot after you give him your address, driving the speed limit all the way back. he’s honestly kind of tired, and he can see that you are too. won’t hurt to make it back a little quicker than you came.

“sure you don’t want some?”

“i’m fine, i’ll be busy for the next week or so anyway. i won’t even be home.”

there’s a hint of disappointment in your chest when you hear that, though you chide yourself for your wishful thinking. what makes you think you can run into a celebrity so easily anyway if he is in japan?

“oh, you’re gonna be away? try not to miss me.”

sae chuckles, softly, at the way you can be so unserious—it’s something you hear for the first time, and you feel the flutters in your heart going wild. there’s something about the way he looks so gentle like this, away from the cameras and the public eye that makes him so much more alluring than usual.

“i’ll try,” he says, though you know he’s just playing along.

usually, you don’t feel this type of way around people. you’ve never felt like this before so you can’t even think of ways to explain it. as you sit in the passenger seat, you can’t help but feel a certain attachment growing. it makes you think foolish things like i want to see you again and wonder about even sillier things like would you want to see me too?

but you’d never actually tell him that.

when your apartment comes into view, you grab at his cap on the dashboard, putting it on your head yourself this time, looking into the side mirror. “hm, think this looks better on me, what do you think?”

sae’s a little stunned at the sudden question. you have a way of making him exasperated—in all the good ways. “wanna keep it?” he’s guessing that’s where you’re headed. not that he minds.

“oooh, then maybe i get to sell it for a buttload of money. especially when i tell people it belonged to you,” you smirk, and sae finds himself wondering why your guard is up so high.

he starts driving a little slowly, starting to feel the reluctance brewing inside him. “it’s yours now, do whatever you want with it.” he knows you’re not actually going to sell it anyway. he might not have known you for long, but he thinks you’re not that kind of person.

he’ll bet on it.

you don’t say anymore about it, and he catches you with a blank stare straight ahead, aimed at your apartment.

does it have something to do with your family? was that why you were unhappy earlier?

sae can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know more about you. but you snap back to your usual self before he can do anything about it.

“anyway! don’t worry about tonight, i won’t tell a soul that a superstar like you took a nobody like me out for a romantic supper in a private room,” you tell him, winking as you place your hands on the door handle, ready to go.

sae nearly laughs. “can’t you say thank you like a normal person?” because by now, the both of you are comfortable enough to understand that nothing is ever said in hostility. you take it as his banter.

somehow, your hand finds itself back onto your lap, and the words haven’t left your lips. there’s no music in the car, so it’s just you and sae and the air between you, a tension looming in the air that you can’t ignore. there’s just silence as you observe him from your position, your head inching closer, ever so slowly it feels like you’re not even moving at all. you can see how sae’s gaze flickers from your eyes to the tip of your nose and then to your lips, and you think of how he looks almost like he did that night when you got close to him.

except this time, you’re really tempted. you’re alone, just the both of you, and he’s been really nice and you’re really tempted to feel how soft those lips are and what he tastes like. but that’s too much, and yet somehow his eyes feel like they’re telling you different. would he mind?

your fingers pull the cap down from your head, covering both your faces as there’s barely any space between you now.

maybe just something tame.

in one swift motion, your lips press against his cheek, a hurried thank you rolling off your tongue before you bolt out of the car and back to your apartment, hoping that sae doesn’t think you’re a complete psycho for doing that.

back in the car, sae freezes in position even after you’ve long vanished from his sight. his heart’s still beating wildly in his chest and he wonders what the hell just happened.

and then he finds himself questioning when it could happen again.

why does he want it to happen again?

before he starts the drive back, he does three things.

one, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and creates that account he forgot about. two, he sends you a follow request because he doesn’t think he can handle this curiosity anymore. and three, he opens your messages, breathing shallow as he tries to make plans for the first time.

an hour later, after you’re showered and your heart has calmed down, you check your phone, charged to full now on your bedside table. there’s a few messages from sumi and eita that you missed since it had been dead since before you left the house, and then your heart skips a beat when you realise that sae’s name is there as well.

for the first time in a long time, you go to bed feeling like a giggly high school girl who’s been asked out by her crush. and for the first time in forever, sae receives your message and finds that he can’t sleep now—wondering why he felt so relieved to finally get a text back, and wondering what this frantic rush of his heart really means.

extras !

no, sae did not get up late to meet bianca the next day. he did look extremely tired though, which made her suspicious and ask why—sae did not reveal anything, just said he couldn’t sleep. partly true.

sae was right; if he’d asked yn about herself that night (particularly anything pertaining to her family), she wouldn’t have answered seriously. there’s a reason why she won’t so easily divulge her family issues & doesn’t want sae to know about it.

yn genuinely believes that sae did not notice anything off about her and that he honestly thought she was fine.

otoya did end up bringing his date to a hotel. after she fell asleep, otoya went out to the balcony to call yn and make sure she’s okay since she wasn’t responding.

yn’s mother knows that yn and otoya used to fuck (and still thinks they are), and that’s why she used her choice of words “jacking people off”. she has been treating yn like that for the past few years.

random fact #1: otoya used to purposely get yn in trouble all the time in school so that they could spend time in detention together. that’s how they started getting close.

random fact #2: sae has, in his head, considered being together with bianca before because the guys asked him about it.

taglist! @yuzurins @saeskiss @raphsimp @lust4rin @mxplesyrvp @chieeeeeee @yumekolovesyukimiya @kunirayuna39 @auranny @sereniteav @gskill @saesgrl @riseena @rikijbol @sagejin @shironagi

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae x y/n #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #sae x you #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk imagines #itoshi sae imagines #૪ aeri’s fics !

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

Note

Might be too much in line with I'm on fire.. but what about classic a classic motorcycle riding drifter.. that is more than meets the eye... maybe more monster than man and that's why he drifts... idk if that's enough maybe he's drifted into small town USA and he meets reader at like a Truckstop/ Diner that's across from the one hotel in town and over days of her waiting on him (EDS) they strike something up... spicy.. if you will.. maybe he finds her delectable and she finds him mysterious & charming idk just spit ballin

The Drifter

missed connections

out on the highway

monster!drifter!Eddie x dinerWaitress!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, blood, oral (f receiving), mention of drug and alcohol addiction, mention of physical abuse by an ex, mention of PTSD, emotional trauma, 2 lost souls finding each other, a killing, monsterfuqqing, but it’s also a really sweet, fluffy story if that makes sense. wc: 4.2

A/N: I was so excited to get this ask! I had to really pull back on the length of this story because I could've kept writing it forever and will most likely bring back Eddie The Drifter again in some oneshots. I did a quick re-read, but sometimes I just need to post these before I obsess over them for too long.

(Also, when Eddie is thinking about how "damaged" they both are, that is his perception, not mine. I think they are both perfect.)

Eddie had been drifting for a while. He didn’t want to know anyone, and he didn’t want anyone to know him. He hadn't been the same since the physical and emotional trauma he’d suffered in The Upside Down. Steve took him by the arm once and told him he understood what he was going through—that they all understood—and that he wasn’t alone. Eddie knew Steve and the rest meant well, but they couldn’t understand, and he was convinced no one ever would. Trauma affects everyone differently and for Eddie, it started to turn him into his father, and that was what scared him more than anything. Dark and brooding with a short fuse, there was a beast living inside of him that had not been there before the ordeal with Vecna; or perhaps, it had just been sleeping.

He lost his temper with Dustin once, and at the time, he thought he was having a very normal reaction to the situation. It wasn’t until he recognized the fear in his younger friend’s eyes–the way he backed away from Eddie and put his hands up as if he needed to protect himself—that Eddie knew he had to go. After years of silent struggle and becoming a hermit more and more, he decided to hit the road.

He started out in his van, sleeping in it, getting odd jobs wherever he went, staying in town just long enough to make some money, and then he was in the wind again. He called Wayne from payphones and sent postcards back home to Hawkins once in a while, but not often. In his mind, they were better off without him.

The second year he was on the road, he ended up getting involved with a biker gang and doing some jobs for them that paid well but were on the wrong side of the law. Before the Upside Down, he’d been more of a lover than a fighter. Sure, he had to defend himself a few times, especially from his old man, and he never took shit from people without giving it back, but ever since he almost died, he’d acquired some type of superhuman strength. There was a transformation that happened in him now, fueled by the adrenaline of his rage, and in the past decade, he’d been paid to hurt more people than he could count. The problem was—he’d started to like it.

Eventually, he was able to trade in his van for a Harley FXS 80, and he carried most of his early possessions with him. He put the rest of what he owned in a storage unit in Oregon, and he’d planned to circle back there again one of these days to get it all when he decided to settle down—but years later, he was still on the road. He’d been using his bedroll to sleep out under the stars the past couple nights, but the clouds told him it was about to rain, and he decided he could use a shower and a real bed for the night.

Red River Junction was less than a dot on a map, a truck stop town with a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a place to pump your gas, set right plop in the middle of nowhere. You’d grown up in a town not too far down the highway, and you were still there, in the same trailer your mother left to you when she passed. You worked at both the Sundown Motel part-time, and at Margie’s Diner, and in your free time, you dreamed about leaving town and never coming back.

You heard the rumble of his motorcycle before you saw it; chrome pipes growling to a stop as the rider found a place for his bike in the lot. A motorcycle, or even an entire MC, pulling into the junction was nothing new. You were the only stop for gas and food for a good fifty miles.

You were staring for so long out the window as he dismounted and took his helmet off, that you overflowed the coffee cup you were refilling and the elderly customer scoffed at you. He had long, curly hair tied back in a ponytail and bangs that had grown out just long enough to tuck behind his ears. Black leather jacket, and leather chaps over his jeans. Your attention was immediately drawn to his jewelry: the small hoop piercing in his ear and the chunky rings across his knuckles. My Boyfriend’s Back by The Angels played softly from the jukebox while you made your way to the front to greet him. The kitchen was slammed with only Big Joe behind the grill, and Leslie was the only other waitress, but she was on a smoke break.

You fumbled the big plastic menu in your hand when he took his sunglasses off to nail you with those star-flecked eyes. “Just one for lunch?”

He tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looked around. “You still serving breakfast?”

“All day long,” you assured him. Seats at the counter were all full, so you offered him a booth, and he slid in without another word or glance in your direction, taking the menu from you with a grunt. You tried not to stare at his scars: the angry, purple one on his neck, and the deep white slash across his chin. His hands were also flecked with scar tissue from various fights, and punching through mirrors every time he hated his own reflection.

50 year old Leslie was tying her apron and chewing gum when you moved behind her to grab a cup and saucer for his coffee. “Another grumpy one,” you whispered over the sound of clinking silverware and scattered conversations.

Leslie raised her eyebrow a few times, resting her elbow on the counter. “Hell, he can get grumpy with me any day.”

Eddie didn’t say much while you waited on him, and you didn’t think he was paying any attention to you, but he saw the way you splashed a bit of vodka into your soda can behind the counter. He also caught the way you used that same liquid to toss back a couple pills you scooped out of your apron pocket just before you turned to grab some hot plates from the kitchen hatch. He didn’t judge you for it or think it was odd being that he’d spent the past ten years trying to find ways to dull his pain.

He thought you were too beautiful for this deadbeat town; too sweet, too kind. He noticed the bruise on your forearm and the vacancy in your eyes and he felt an instant kinship with you: the damaged recognizing the damaged.

When you came to clear his empty plate, he asked you if the Sundown Motel was a decent place to stay. It was the only motel for miles and he didn’t care how decent it was, he just wanted a reason to keep talking to you.

“Sure, it’s great,” you shrugged. “If you like bedbugs and carpets that look like a violent crime took place recently.”

He met your eyes, and there was a moment of levity there that lightened both of your spirits if only for that moment.

“I’m cool with bedbugs,” he brushed his tongue between his lips. “It gets lonely on the road, it’s nice to have some company.”

He told you his name was Eddie after he read yours off of your name tag, and when you came back from seating a table full of seniors who were on a bus tour to the casino, he was gone.

He left you a generous tip, though, and after hours of getting tipped in quarters and loose change, it felt good to have some solid cash in your pocket. His motorcycle was gone too, and you wondered if he’d decided to hit the road or stay the night.

You told yourself to forget about him, that he was just another drifter you’d never see again, but the evening had other plans for you.

You were supposed to have the night off from both jobs, but Susan at the front desk of the motel begged you to come down and work the check-in desk for an hour while she went to pick her kid up. You wished you could say you had some big plans, but that was absolutely not the case, and so you rolled your car up to the back lot behind the dumpsters and changed out of your orthopedic shoes and into something less drab.

You thought it would be an easy hour to space off and read a book, but ten minutes after you clocked in, two guests locked themselves out of their room. It was a two-tier motel, and as you made your way up the concrete steps with the husband and wife in question behind you, fumbling with the keys, you caught sight of Eddie a few rooms down, and your heart jumped into your throat.

He was sitting in the plastic chair in front of the door to his room, smoking a cigarette, stripped down to jeans and a wife-beater. His hair was still wet from his shower, hanging down his shoulders, showcasing the patchwork of scars that covered his flesh.

He didn’t make eye contact, but he saw you. In fact, he knew you were on your way a few minutes before that, because he heard your voice, and it made him stay and light another smoke. He flicked his ash and waited for you to let the couple into their room.

On your way back to the stairs, the soda and snack machine blocked your view, but once you rounded the corner, there he was again.

“Is your room satisfactory, sir?” You put the keys in your pocket and stood tall, pretending to act professional.

Eddie met your eyes then, staring up through his lashes, and one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Disappointed I haven’t found any bedbugs.”

You coughed a laugh, swaying on your feet. “Give it time. They come out at dark.”

Eddie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’d also learned never to miss an opportunity with how transient his life was. His attraction to you was not purely physical, which was a rare occurrence for him.

He shifted in his seat, a silky curl of gray smoke passing from his lips. “Are you free later tonight? Can I buy you dinner?”

Suddenly shy and baffled as to why he’d have any interest, you lowered your chin and shuffled your foot.

“I-I’ve got a boyfriend,” you cringed as you said it. Tony had cheated on you and left you more times than you could count. He took off a couple days ago after he knocked you around, and you had no idea where he was, but you continued to hold onto this strange sense of loyalty for him. Perhaps it was because you were convinced he was the best you could do.

“Did the tough guy do that to your arm?” Eddie asked in a low mumble, his eyes lingering on your bruises.

You covered the marks with your other hand, reflexively. “He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” you always felt like such an idiot when you defended that loser, but you didn’t know how to stop.

“Well,” Eddie smashed the butt in the ashtray by his chair and stood up to full height. One nipple under his white tank was hard, but the other one seemed to be missing. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You were too stupefied to move, you just stood there holding your arm, waiting for him to go back into his room.

But Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to give you one last look. “You deserve a lot better, sweetheart. If he puts his hands on you while I’m around, I’ll fucking kill him.”

—------

You thought about Eddie’s words for the rest of your shift. When it was over, you drove the ten miles back to your trailer, took a shower, and found yourself driving back to the motel, as if your will was no longer your own.

“What are you even doing?” You hissed aloud to yourself as you parked behind the Sundown in your usual spot. It was dusk now and you accepted the possibility that he’d probably invited a different woman out to dinner by then, but any amount of reasoning couldn’t stop you. You checked the scene first, looking up from the main parking lot to catch the flicker of the tv in his room to let you know he was, indeed, still up there. His motorcycle was safe in its place, too, and you realized you hadn’t even prepared what to say. You were an anxious mess, but you were also hungry for him in a way that was foreign to you.

You hadn’t known much comfort or safety in your life, but you felt those things when you were around Eddie.

After standing at his door for a good 5 minutes, you finally found the courage to knock.

Eddie opened the door while your knuckles were still on the wood. His eyes looked you over, offering a buck of his chin in appreciation. “Well, well. You are a gorgeous bedbug.”

Your cheeks burned hot at the complement. “I had some free time, so I thought I’d just check and see how you were doing, if you have everything you need.”

Eddie braced his shoulder against the door jam, giving you a squint. “So, you came to check on me while you’re off the clock? Damn, that is good service.”

You flexed your hands, forcing a laugh, trying your best not to just turn around and run away.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to come in? Cause we can —”

“I’m not hungry.” You answered, bolting inside of his room when he extended his arm as an invitation, before you lost your nerve.

“Neither am I,” Eddie agreed. But, he was craving something else.

He locked the deadbolt and made sure the curtains were closed.

—-----

There were very few words left to be spoken as your lips collided with his, meeting with equal levels of urgency. You kept trying to kiss him deep and desperate while your hand palmed him through his jeans, but he held you off a bit with soft pressure. He cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb while he kissed you, giving individual attention to your top lip and then the bottom one. He kissed down your neck, flicking his tongue out every so often to taste you, making you gasp—you’d never been worshiped with someone's mouth before.

Breathing heavy, he started to unbutton your shirt. “Is this okay?” He asked, wondering how far you wanted to take it.

“Yes,” you gulped. “Please.”

Once you had his shirt off, you bent down to kiss and lick his scars—it was an unspoken act of acceptance that made Eddie’s cock twitch. You weren’t used to being cared for in bed, and Eddie could tell by the way you hurried to push your jeans down and bend over so he could take you from behind.

“Not like that,” he whispered, using strong arms to lower you to the bed while he shimmied your jeans off. He got on his knees and scooped up your hips, nudging your pussy through your underwear with his nose, and then he planted kisses across the wet spot and along your inner thigh. The animal inside of him loved your scent; he wanted to bury himself in it, and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped him.

You fell back on the bed and covered your face with one hand. “Wait, I’m—not many people have done that—I’m not sure how to—”

Eddie finger pulled your underwear to one side, exposing your slippery lips for his tongue to flick. “Do you want me to stop?”

You arched back at the sensation of his mouth on you. “No, no, please don’t stop,” you urged, putting your hand on his head to gently cup his ear, the one with the silver hoop.

He moved away just long enough to pull your underwear all the way down your legs and off, maintaining eye contact with you. He didn’t rush, he took his time, and kissed his way back up your legs to the prize.

The gentle and precise way he swirled his tongue on your clit had you stammering his name with a few curses in between. As his attention to your bundle of nerves built your arousal and it spilled down your slit, he dove his mouth down a few times to taste it and drink you, shivering at the pleasure it gave him. He couldn’t help it, he had to reach down to grab his cock so he could fist it while his mouth brought you closer. The taste of your hormones in your slick had pre-cum wetting his tip already.

Tony had only gone down on you a few times, and he never really seemed to enjoy it. But Eddie was one of those who could eat a peach for hours, as they say.

“Right…there…” you hushed, startled as you felt the wave of an orgasm rise. Eddie zeroed in on that spot with just the right pressure, fluttering his tongue as he sucked. His other hand milked his cock in long strokes, taming the beast from cumming too soon, moaning warm breath against your cunt.

“Eddie!” You cried out just as the release took you and wracked your body, like a spring popping out of a tight coil, unraveling. Eddie pressed his mouth closer to lap you up, feeling your body vibrate as he held your hip in place.

He only broke the seal made by his mouth once you were too sensitive, and your limbs dangled off the bed for a minute, unable to move.

It didn’t take long for you to start coaxing him up on top of you, spreading your legs out, begging for him to be closer. He met your kiss with deep, soul-searching need, and you whined at the sensation of his tip sliding up and down your slick. But, then he hesitated, and pulled up to meet your eyes.

“Inside of me,” you begged, nodding. “I need you inside of me.”

And yes, that was what Eddie wanted too, but now there was another problem.

Eddie’s ears pricked at the sound of footsteps outside the door. He sniffed the air, trying to identify the presence. He slid off of you and stood, watching the door while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his stiff, aching cock into place behind the denim.

Shuffling up onto your elbows, you were about to speak, to ask what was wrong, but Eddie silenced you with a finger to his lips. He tossed your jeans over and motioned over his shoulder for you to put them on in the bathroom.

There was something about the whole situation, and Eddie’s sudden silence, that unnerved you, and so you scampered off the bed as quietly as you could and did as he asked.

There were no lights on in the room, except for the infomercial on the mute TV, but the bright moon illuminated the walkway outside enough for him to catch sight of someone pacing out there.

Finally, there came a heavy knock and a voice.

It was Tony, and he shouted your name. “ARE YOU IN THERE? HUH? You fucking whore!”

You buttoned your jeans and all of the blood ran from your face. Eddie turned his head to look at you. The adrenaline of pure fear pumped through your body as you froze in place.

Eddie put his hand out, motioning for you to stay right where you were, behind him.

Tony pounded on the door again. “YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME! One of my guys said he saw you go in here with some fucking dude. IF YOU’RE FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE I’LL KILL YOU, you goddamn bitch!”

By “one of his guys” Tony meant one of the other drug dealers in town, who were generally crawling all over the motel, leeching off of the clientele. Eddie looked deceptively calm as he stood at the end of the bed, breathing slow, and you walked over to grab his arm, to warn him that Tony was a crazy motherfucker, and you’d just go with him so Eddie wouldn’t get hurt.

But Eddie motioned for you to hide, so you did.

“Hold up, man,” Eddie was moving now, heading to undo the deadbolt and you cringed, pushing back as tight as you could between the wall and the bathroom door.

Once the door was unlocked, Tony stood there heaving, looking Eddie up and down. Tony was big in a stocky way, but not big like Eddie, and he enjoyed that flash of fear that lit over his adversary’s eyes at first glance. Sure, the guy had some obvious prison ink, but that didn’t mean shit to Eddie.

“Where is she?” Tony demanded, pushing in.

“Where’s who, man?” Eddie was being so casual about it, and you were trying not to scream.

Eddie shut the door and quietly locked it behind him

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, and then he spun on his heel; his eyes were pinned and doped-out. “Don’t act dumb, man. My fucking girl. Someone said they saw her come up here.”

Tony walked up to Eddie and started poking him in the chest. “Tell me where that fucking whore is before I make you my bitch.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next—for the transformation and the carnage. You witnessed it all through the crack in the bathroom door as if you were watching a horror movie.

Eddie changed, in an instant; the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the teeth in his mouth turned jagged and sharp, and his eyes went completely black. His massive, clawed hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him up so that his feet no longer touched the ground.

You muffle a scream with your hand, watching Tony gargle and spit, his limbs flailing.

Eddie’s lips stretched to speak around his fangs. “She’s not your girl anymore,” he growled.

Eddie strangled Tony with one hand until he lost consciousness, and then he threw him to the bed like a rag doll, pouncing on top of him. He proceeded to rip his throat open with his teeth; blood squirted on the wall and across the door where you were hiding, misting you in the face.

When he was finished, you made your way out of the bathroom.

Eddie was still a monster as he got off the bed at the sight of your approach. His clawed hands twitched at his sides, his hair dripped with blood, and his skin from nose to chest was bathed in crimson. His black eyes assessed you, waiting for you to scream or try to run—-but you didn’t.

You got close enough to touch him, to run your hand up his chest to feel the blood between your fingers, and then brush some bloody hair behind his ear.

Eddie frowned, wondering why you weren’t afraid of him, wondering why your desire for him didn’t seem to falter.

You parted your lips, watching the red drool drip from his teeth. “Are you okay?"

Your mouths found each other again, tasting the tang of your own blood as one of his fangs pricked your lip. You each did frantic work of unzipping each other’s jeans as Eddie scooped you up to lay you on the floor.

While the last few pumps of blood shot from Tony’s artery, monster Eddie spilled his seed inside of you, throwing his head back with a howl.

Now, there really had been a crime committed in that room, and Eddie would need to be on the road again, gone by daylight.

Maybe this time, you’d be going with him.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson monster #monster!Eddie #drifter!Eddie #requests #biker!Eddie #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #diner au #truckstop au

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hellish-sunsets · 2 months

Text

Curses and Blessings - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9

Summary:

In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless.

Word Count: 1,554

Read on AO3

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

In the chaos of Pentagram City, where sinners ran amuck and you couldn’t go anywhere without running into some fucker doing the things that got them stuck here in the first place, no one gave a second glance when some random woman was thrown out of a rundown building into the alleyway. She slammed against the far brick wall with a grunt, but made sure not to fall to the ground. A large beast of a man followed with a glower, but kept himself firmly rooted in the doorway.

“Get going, bitch! Unless you want to get yourself fucked up for real.”

She glared at him, taking a shaky step forward, one arm clutching at her bruised side.

“The fuck is your problem, man? I paid my rent!”

The man just shrugged, a cruel smirk twisting at his lips. “Yeah, but I found a pretty bitch willing to pay just as much, and she’ll fuck me too.” He said with a bark of laughter. “Looks like you’re out of luck. Now get out of here!.”

With that he slammed the door shut, shaking the doorframe, leaving her on the street. Again.

He didn’t even let her get her stuff, the jackass. Not that there was much. Everything important was in the bag slung over her shoulders.

She leaned heavily against the brick wall, wincing in pain slightly as she opened the bag to double check everything was there. With a nod to herself, she pushed herself off the wall and trudged through the streets of hell, unconsciously tugging her left sleeve down to cover the mark on her wrist.

Alright, first thing first, get a place to stay for the night. That was easier said than done, of course. It was hell, filled with the worst of humanity. There wasn’t going to be any well wishers or good samaritans to help and plenty of greedy or perverted men. Probably both. She would have to be careful.

God, she was so tired of being careful.

Of course, the big issue was her lack of money. She already gave that jackass everything she had for rent. He most definitely wasn’t giving her that back.

She sighed, glancing up. In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless.

Everyone in hell knew about the Hazbin Hotel, the little pet project of one Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer himself. If it was brought up in conversation, it was with stifled laughter and condescension. As if anyone in hell was capable of something like redemption. Did she agree with them? She wasn’t entirely sure herself. If people didn’t want to change, then obviously they wouldn’t stand a chance. Maybe if they got a few people who actually gave a shit it might work out, but that was a big maybe.

Not of that really mattered right now. What did matter was that anyone could get in for free, and it was a hell of a lot better than a night on the streets. She didn’t want to think too hard about what commitment she was making by even approaching the front steps, but it couldn’t be anything too bad, right? From what she’s seen on TV, this Charlie girl seemed nice enough. The worst she could expect was what, some lame exercises? She could handle that. And it wasn’t like she was a shit person herself. She’d only been in hell for, what, three months? It would take more than that to drag her depressed ass down to these people’s level. She could manage this. She could do this, she could do this! She was already debating joining anyways, just to get out of her last building.

She was dragged out of her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, loud and very noticeable even from this side of the large double doors. She almost didn’t even realize she rang it. She took a few steps back, tugging her sleeve down again, anxiety clawing at her throat suddenly. After a few moments, she could make out the sound of hurried footsteps and voices. They hushed suddenly before the door was yanked open and she was greeted by the bright, warmth-filled smile of Charlie Morningstar herself, recognizable from her time on TV. Next to her was another woman, with gray skin and long white hair, not nearly as bright and bubbly.

“Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! Come in, come in!” Charlie all but shouted, ushering her inside the well lit lobby. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re here. Wait, I mean, um, My name is Charlie! It’s nice to meet you!”

Charlie happily extended her hand and she hesitantly shook it.

“Um, Y/N…” she mumbled. “I’m, uh, here for a room? And, uh, the whole… thing you do here, I guess…”

“Great! Of course! Come on, let’s pick a room out for you and I can introduce you to the others! Oh, we can do session tonight! And then-” Charlie happily babbled on about sessions and introductions as she turned to lead the way. She hesitantly gave the other woman a look. She gave a friendly enough smirk and motioned for her to follow.

“It’s Vaggie, by the way.” She mumbled so as not to interrupt Charlie’s rambling. She nodded in acknowledgement, not voicing her first thought which was how unfortunate that name was, but that wasn’t her place.

As it turned out, the rooms here were a decent size, about what you would expect from a typical hotel with an attached bathroom. It was certainly a hell of a lot nicer than her last place. And she really didn’t have to pay rent? It seemed too good to be true.

“It’s… nice. Thank you.” She offered with a smile, making Charlie beam. She looked like she was going to say something, but Vaggie stepped in, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you settle in, then you can join us at dinner.”

“Oh, yeah! We’re going to have dinner as a group today! Cook together and eat together, bring everyone together, it’s going to be great.” Charlie explained with her usual enthusiasm as Vaggie guided her towards the door. “Though, I guess you don’t have to help with the cooking today. You can join in next time! I’ll send somebody when it’s ready, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good, sweetheart. Thank you again.” She replied politely, earning another beaming smile before Vaggie managed to get Charlie out of the room, closing the door behind them. She heard the girl’s excited voice as she was guided down the hallway.

Y/N waited for it to be quiet before finally letting out the breath she was holding.

She could do this.

She dropped her bag on the bed, then collapsed onto it face first with a thump. It smelled like fresh linen and laundry detergent, not even the faintest hint of mold or mildew. That, and the sheer softness of it forced a sigh out of her chest, her body melting into the comfort the blankets offered. Yeah, this would be okay. She just… had to keep herself in check, make sure she didn’t ruin this for herself, and make herself useful.

Just don’t be a burden.

She tensed up as the thought passed through her mind, and with it came the disdain of her fathers eyes. Don’t fuck this up, don’t be a buren.

She dragged herself towards the pillow with a huff, burying her face in it and holding her breath, focusing on her heartbeat. She couldn’t let herself think like that, not now when she had to meet so many people before long. It would be fine, she was fine, it’s okay.

She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until the knocking at the door startled her awake. She immediately rushed for the door, yanking it open to the sight of a startled snake-like man.

“Uh, hello! My name is Sir Pentious and Charlie has assigned me the job of escorting you to dinner.” He said, voice hissing with every syllable. She nodded.

“Of course, just, um, let me get myself ready.” She mumbled, leaving the door open as she headed towards the bathroom to look herself over, trying to tame her hair some and mentally prepare herself for what was to come.

“We made a beef stew!” Sir Pentious offered from his spot at the doorway. “And that mark on your arm is very pretty! Mine isn’t nearly as appealing…”

She froze at that, looking down at her wrist. Her sleeve must have gotten pulled up while she slept, revealing the array of gold and orange and pink. She cursed at herself and pulled her sleeve down.

“I, uh, th-thank you!” she shouted back, wincing.

She had… complicated feelings about her mark and the whole… soulmate thing in general. It was just… better if she avoided the whole thing. She took a deep breath to steady herself and went out to Sir Pentious with a smile, at least pretending she was ready to meet everybody.

#lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer magne x reader #lucifer x reader #curses and blessings #soulmate au #hazbin hotel soulmate au #lucifer x reader soulmate au

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solaris333 · 1 year

Text

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ✿

i successfully manifested on a time crunch! i had never been able to do it before but here's what happened over the last couple days.

my older sister and her husband were coming to visit, so my mom told me to clean my room so that they could take it for the night that they were here.

i had a few issues with this. 1) i had like two days notice 2) i had been feeling sick and just wanted to sleep in my own bed. 3) i didn't want to sleep in the living room because there isn't a tv that i can play brown noise on to sleep. 4) i had to clean my room hotel sleek. i decided i was going to go to the void to avoid the whole thing and try to shift away.

anyways, i'm going to bed wednesday night and i start affirming for the void while falling asleep. i did NOT get into the void, i ended up descending into the good old lullaby method.

i don't know exactly when affirming for the void turned into regular old affirming, but i started affirming that my sister got a hotel.

it went a little like:

i am in the void + vaunt >> my sister got a hotel. she isn't staying. they aren't staying the night. they got a room. they got a hotel. they got a hotel. they got a hotel. they aren't staying.

and then i fell asleep. my last memories of wednesday night are of mindlessly affirming.

thursday comes, my sister and her husband come to visit, we talk a little and my mom asks them a question about staying the night. my sister says that they got a hotel and AREN'T STAYING!

my mom told them that i cleaned and got my room ready for them and my sister says that it's nice, but their hotel is already paid for and i don't have to give up my room.

yall, i was trying so bad not to react because i knew i manifested it!!

since i never was able to manifest in a time crunch, i think it's worth noting that i used @fleurlx's void sub. i looped it about 5 times before bed and affirming.

to wrap up, thank you fleur for a great sub, it will most definitely be in my rotation from now on! also, i will never doubt the lullaby method ever again. this all definitely strengthened my belief in manifesting overnight.

thanks for reading 💕

#law of assumption #void state #manifestation #success story #solaris333 #overnight manifestation #lullaby method #neville goddard

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gabessquishytum · 6 months

Note

Hob mistaken for a prostitute by Dream.

Hob is just sitting in this hotel bar getting a drink when this blazingly hot man walks up to him and starts talking.

Hob's leaving tomorrow and had been in dumb meetings all day selling his tech company for more money than he thought existed for an idea he came up with his late wife; He and Robyn will be set for life (2 or 3 lives). Hob just wanted a drink to decompress (and quietly freak out). Somehow, this hot guy, who didn't share his name, talked Hob up to his room and blew his back out/they blew each others' backs out (Hob honestly stopped tracking when they front'ed against the room door to a fast 1st one each).

When Hob wakes up the next morning to a pile of cash and a note on hotel stationary saying 'thanks and hope this covers it + tip', he's gobsmacked. 1. It was a lot of money - at least he's a good whore; and 2. Hob didn't think they connected for a long term thing or anything, but he certainly didn't think his stranger thought he was on the job!

Well, life is weird and full, and this will be a great story for his friends at the pub -- Joanna is going to give him so much sh*t. Hob certainly doesn't expect to see his stranger again, now.

This is my new favourite thing. I’m actually so tempted to throw this in my wip pile because omg. I LOVE sex worker Hob, but not-actually-a-sex-worker Hob is so fucking funny and weirdly hot.

Anyway, it keeps Hob from moping as he starts his new life with Robyn. Whenever he’s sad he has a little chuckle about that night. He’ll mutter “chin up, you’re a good whore remember?” whenever he’s having a crisis. He’s moved to this smallish village with a school for Robyn and a nice little pub where Hob has taken on a few shifts that he doesn’t need but hey, they were short staffed. He’s made a small circle of friends and Robyn’s grandparents are just down the road. It’s a very comfortable life.

And then one night he’s hanging out with his friends at the pub, and someone new comes in. Hob doesn’t get a glimpse until Joanna waves the stranger over and introduces him as an old uni mate.

It’s the guy. The hot guy who paid him £4000 cash for sex. Holy shit.

Their eyes meet and Hob feels his face turn bright red. The stranger introduces himself as Morpheus and sits down awkwardly next to Hob, while the rest of the group dissolves back into chatter. Which would be fine, except — Morpheus starts whisper-asking polite questions about Hob’s job. Do his friends know? Should Morpheus be discreet about their encounter? Is Hob being safe? Hob nearly dies there at the table. How’s he supposed to tell the guy that he’s a millionaire, not a rent boy?!

The worst part is, Morpheus is so fucking hot. Hob wants him all over again. And because he’s a fucking idiot, he lets Morpheus take him back to the little B&B he’s staying at nearby. Once again Hob is fucked into sweet oblivion in several different rooms, and when he’s too sore to go any more he takes over and finally fucks Morpheus on the actual bed. Morpheus gives him permission to stay the night and Hob thinks that he really, REALLY needs to come clean but. They both fall asleep.

In the morning over coffee in the kitchen, Morpheus says “I am afraid I only have £500 in cash. Do you have a PayPal account?” Just as Joanna pops in through the back door (it’s her girlfriend’s b&b, she has a key).

“Oh my GOD, Hob.” She says. “This is why EVERYONE assumes that you’re a whore!”

…and from there onwards, chaos reigns.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw sex work

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

Check-In at Ruthieland

Yandere Park Staff + G.N Reader

Summary: A gift from the park's mascot leads to an unexpected surprise

Warnings: None/Slight horror elements

Word Count: 3.4k

The mug shaped candy has merged with its wrapping by the time you pick it up.

Almost two weeks since your last annual visit to Ruthieland – the remaining tickets left tucked in their envelope and stored in a secure location. Your encounter with the park's main mascot repeats are the only thing you can retell vividly from that day, yet it all still feels like a dream. Ruthie hasn’t been seen in person since you were a kid for reasons even you were in the dark about. Why were they bringing him back now?

Beloved Showrunner Ruthie Hare makes a comeback in time for the reopening of hotel.

That seemed like reason enough. The article pops up in your news feed while browsing online, the hare's buck tooth grin catching you off guard enough for you to drop your phone on your face. Recovering from the sting, you skim over the letter and from what you read Ruthie had been seen in lesser populated areas of the park gifting the same candies he gave you to random families with park staff informing them to keep hold of them. The park's office social media page has almost just released news that every person giving a candy would be invited to the grand reopening of their main hotel.

So that’s why Ruthie gave you the candy. Since you hadn’t seen him since you were a kid, the costume probably just looked stranger than you remembered, or went through a design change. What about that note he gave you? “Somebunny likes you.” It could be that one of the park attendants has developed a thing for you giving your constant visits, but was too shy to approach in person and managed to pull a few strings for you. Anything was possible, but the conclusion allayed your concerns well enough for the idea of a vacation to sound appealing. If things continued to work in your favor then maybe the park's recluse owner would show their face again, and you'd get to see an old friend one more time.

The information for the contest comes within the following week. A week long stay at the refurbished hotel with all expenses paid, and general admission to the park for each day of your stay. A couple signatures and all is set for your departure. The date of the trip was only a few days away by the time everything was in order, your belongings packed the night before. The brochure included in your mail gave details of a shuttle leaving for the hotel from the usual pick up location at 7am; two full hours before opening. You arrive a quarter before, and are surprised to see only one other person waiting. The others possibly drove, or were running closer to the assigned schedule. Someone off to your side whisper shouts to their companion.”

“I told you they'd be here.- Y/n, hey, over here!”

Drawing your attention to their ambush, you barely have time to react as your assailant rushes you and smothers you in the fuzzy sleeves of their oversized coat. As she lets you go and picks up her suitcase thrown aside in her sprint, you find the woman to be none other than the park attendant responsible for the theft of your ticket stubs, Ell. Two others catch up with her. Atlas, the head of security, and someone you aren't sure you're familiar with. A medical mask obscures the lower half of their face and a baseball cap makes up for the rest. The former two were frequent faces you'd see around the park, and people you considered friends for the most part.

“Ell? Atlas? What are you doing here?”

Atlas shoots a side eye at Ell. “Someone managed to get their hands on some of the prize candies when it was mentioned in a meeting that staff members weren't eligible to win.”

“They never said anything about coming in on a day off. If they had a real problem with it, we wouldn't even be here. Everyone knows the park's royalty was bound to win, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say getting to spend some time with them on vacation is too good to pass up.”

Atlas chokes on his tongue; lips wired shut as his brain attempts to come up with a cognate reply. He looks around for a way out, eyes landing on your bag and the transport pulling up to dock.

“Heh- would you look at that? The bus is here. Those look heavy, Y/n. I'll carry those up for you. ‘Cuse me”

Atlas squeezes past the two and snatches up your bags as he heads towards the bus. Ell throws an arm over the other member of their party.

“Anyway- despite popular belief it wasn’t me who took the candies. Found this thief with a couple in their bag and they offered me one to keep quiet. Then Atlas found us out and we had to bribe him for the same prize.”

The stranger tugs on the strings of their hoodie. “I'm not a thief…. Like you said earlier, Y/n was likely to win, and I wanted to see them more than just once a month.”

Their voice is muffled by the face guard, but you recognize that tone. “Cass?”

They make eye contact with you for the first time that morning - before immediately looking away. “hi, Y/n.”

Ell stares at them puzzled. “You have an actual name? Why have we been calling you-"

“Let's go, guys! It's ten past seven.”

Atlas slaps on the side of the bus to get his point across. Ell and Cass toss their bags in the undercarriage and follow you on the bus. The exterior is different from the typical pink decal and mascot characters acting out different scenes depending on the vehicle. Instead, the paint job had been switched to solid white with a streak of red around the middle like a bow and the silhouette of Ruthie's head acting as the ribbon. You stare at it for a while, the trance broken by Cass bumping into you.

“sorry…”

“It's alright. Go on ahead.”

Cass hesitates, but moves on ahead to avoid conflict. They stand at the back of the bus, waiting to see where you sit. Being the last one on board, Ell shoves you into the closest available seat right behind Atlas and sits beside you. Cass takes the bench from across you.

Atlas is the first to strike up conversation- despite Ell being right over your shoulder. “Hey, Y/n. I've been meaning to ask you, how exactly did you win lifetime tickets to Ruthie's?”

“That’s right- your family moved you away after they heard about the field trip. It was a contest in elementary where we had to write a letter explaining what we'd do if we won tickets to the park. That’s how I met Cass actually. They deliver the tickets. I still don't know how I won.”

Ell butts in. “Maybe it's because you’re besties with the owner. What’s their name again? Wayne?”

“Wyatt. We didn’t really know each other well because their dad kept them at home, but the few times we hung out was nice. They stopped showing up to class shortly after the trip, but the other kids would joke that they had a crush on me.”

“Imagine that.” Atlas leans against the bus window, watching the buildings go by; fingers snaking up to the skin beneath his eye. “I still loved that place, even after what happened.”

Before you can say more, the bus hits a speed bump which sends you flying backwards into the seat. Recovering from the whiplash, you glance out the window to see where you are. The bus pulls into the parking lot of where you'll be staying. It’s astonishing how you've never seen or heard much about its rebuilding before now. An excuse for the first part could be the large circus tent blocking the park's back wall.

The hotel itself was like a crossbreed between a lodge cabin and the fairgrounds. The main building sat in the middle of two towers; roof slanted like the pitch of a carnival tent and walls made of stone and wood. The pillars in its foundation were painted red for a little more color and the park's name along with its main mascot sat on a sign near the entrance; a plethora of lights surrounding the entire building shut off due to the time of day.

“Ruthie's Paradise Lodge…” You read aloud; the hare nestled in the title's ‘P' and drifting off to sleep. You gather your carry-on bag and join the others as they exit the bus. Atlas insists on taking the remaining lounge for you and wheels your bags along with his one duffle bag up to the front doors. A rustle in the bushes along the path catches your attention as you follow behind, but no one else seems to notice. You peak into the thickets – two, long pink ears greeting you among beady black eyes.

You scream.

Heads spin at the sound. Atlas retains a look of defense while Ell barks out a laugh and Cass removes their hand from the pocket at the sight they all behold. For the second time that day, fuzz laced arms trap you to the chest of a foreign body; this one covered head to toe in plush and oversized hands doing a better job at keeping you in place. Within enough struggle the mascot lets you go, covering his face with his hands out of embarrassment. The last member of your group and the first person on the bus walks up behind Ruthie and pats the hare's back.

“Sorry for the fright. Ruthie here is just excited to meet friends.”

Atlas pulls you away from the pair and creates a protective shield using his own body. “And you are?”

The man laughs. “Me? I’m the receptionist at this fine establishment and the staff member assigned to welcoming you all to the hotel. You can just call me Flo. I probably should've introduced myself earlier, but it seemed like you all were having a great time with each other which is what we love to see most at our parks. Shall we head in?”

Flo enters the hotel without waiting for an answer, leaving all you with no choice but to follow. Ruthie tails behind you step for step; eyes drilling holes in the back of your head. You can see his reflection in the glass doors right before you step inside. This Ruthie is nowhere near as stretched out as the one you met before, but his stare carries that same uncomfortable weight as the first. He gently pushes past you and marches in front of the other's to stand beside Flo.

The lobby isn’t anything remarkable. A fireplace in the waiting area accompanied by couches and chairs; framed snippets of the hare's crew on the walls. Twin staircases lead to a second floor and . It’s so open spaced you can’t help but wonder-

“Are we the only ones here?”

“Course not! We have the rest of staff and if you're referring to the other contestants I’m sure they'll be here on a later shuttle. If that clears up your questions then-"

The echo of Flo's clap makes you flinch.

“Let's get this show on the road. As I’m sure you're already aware of, you lovely folks are the first to witness the grand reopening of our gorgeous hotel after its tragic closing back in 95’. The rooms have been renovated to fit with modern times and there are various activities around the building to keep you all entertained when you aren't enjoying a fun day at our fair park. The only thing we ask is that you avoid staff only areas, even if a few of you are employed elsewhere on the plot.

Ruthie holds up a flashcard with a rabbit silhouette marked with a red X; tapping the board while slowly shaking his head. Flo walks behind the counter and produces four separate room keys.

“I will now give you all your assigned room keys and instructions on how to reach them. Your luggage will be brought to your rooms by staff later on.”

Flo hands out the keys in order of how you entered from Cass to Ell to Atlas to You. 81. 82. 83. 111. Ruthie holds out his hand for a key and crosses his arms over his chest when he doesn't receive what he’s after. It would've been a little funny had Ell not addressed the elephant in the room.

“Why's Y/n's room so far away from ours?”

Flo half shrugs, almost annoyed by the question. “I’m not sure. Possibly a mix up somewhere with booking and reservations and whatnot. To get to your room you three just have to walk up to the third floor. Your room is in the south tower on the fifth floor. Bit of a strange numbering system, I know, but we’ve kept the layout of the hotel as close to original design as possible. We hope you enjoy your stay.”

Taking that as ignitive to leave, you walk over to the elevator with the others. You’d ask about Wyatt another time. Ruthie sends you all off with a double handed wave. It drops to one when it’s your turn to receive a fair well. Ruthie brings a finger up to his eye socket and drags it down to his cheek.

“Well…” Atlas starts. “We're still in the same location, and we'll most likely be seeing a lot of each other regardless of the situation.”

“Do you mind us paying you a visit?” Cass questions. “You’re the only reason I'm actually here…”

Ell chimes in. “Yeah, kinda lame deal if I can't try to bust down your door at any given moment.”

“I don't mind. Just give me a bit to get settled in first. I'll see you later.” You push the button on the elevator wall and wait for it to open. As you enter Atlas steps forward.

“Maybe I should head up with you, just to be safe…”

Ell tugs the taller figure into a headlock and pulls him back. “Not so fast, Romeo. We spend time with them together or not at all. I won't give you the chance to shoot your shot with them so soon.”

Atlas flushes, barking out. “It's not like that!”

“Don't lie to me. I've seen your wallpaper before. I've snuck a few pictures in my time, and I have no doubts that our other friend over there has as well.”

Cass is already halfway up the stairs before Ell gets her point across, frantically scrolling through their phone. Both Atlas and Ell chase after them.

“See you later, guys.” You press the button to your floor, a last minute rider keeping the doors from closing.

Ruthie steps inside the elevator and into the opposite corner where another button panel was placed. He closes the doors, before pressing every single button prior to your floor while making direct eye contact with you.

The elevator goes up. The doors open and shut for the second floor. The fluff of the costume's chest rises with a breath. Another floor. His fingers twitch and his left leg shifts towards you. He starts to hum, tapping his foot against the metal floor. Two floors left and that soft drill draws out into a whistle. The cold wall envelopes you as you shrink in their corner. Ruthie teeters in your direction and then.. gets off on the fifth floor.

The hare ducks beneath the elevator and crawls out into the hall, thunderous footsteps sounding throughout his entire descent. Reaching the end of the walkway, Ruthie turns and tilts his head as the doors slowly close.

You shuffle out the elevator as soon as the doors open again, gunning for the room at the end of the hall with your assigned number. You jam your key into the lock and tumble inside the room. A balloon floats by your head as you lean against the door. You follow the floating orb trajectory to the bedside where a large gift basket sat on the pillows. Curious, you the item, pushing another stray balloon out of your way.

The basket is full of various treats from around the park as well as non-food items such as tee shirts and plush figures. The two in question are Ruthie and the newer addition to the crew, Bash the wolf. The hare carries his signature bottle of root beer and the canine holds a small mallet. Despite his weapon of choice and his scowl, Bash was a kind and timid creature afraid of his own shadow. The lesson his debut was founded on was about not being scared of those who don't seem approachable on first glance. The cellophane wrapping around the case was too thick to tear through, but a notecard hides between the plastic and the bottom of the basket.

“Welcome Home.”

A heavy fist rattles the door in its frame.

“Y/n? Are you in there? Atlas got us lost and we've been looking for you for like- twenty minutes.”

It's Ell. Probably with the others. You head over and unlock the door. Sure enough, the three park members wait behind it with smaller bags on their person, and Cass carrying a few plastic bags from a general store.

“You came over faster than I expected…” You gloss over their added luggage – and the pillow in Ell's arms.” Wait, are you planning to stay the night?”

“Okay if you’re okay with it.” Atlas quips. “We just thought it'd be a good way to break in the night, and it’s a long way away back so we brought over things just in case.”

“You got more than enough space to house us all.” Ell bounces over to the couch adjacent to the bed and the window, ending her exploration at the foot of your bed. “Your room is way bigger than ours and you have a nice view. You even got a whole basket of goods. Oh shit, are those funnel cakes bites?”

Ell pokes and prods at the bag to no avail.

“Yeah, I couldn't get it open either. Anyone have any utensils?”

“You can use my knife..” Cass unsheathes a pocket knife from their jeans and hands it to you. There's a crow engraved on its side. You pass it off to Ell who then cuts open the plastic and at least asks before she digs in to her desired treats.

The rest of the night goes about the same as one would expect. You each take up a random corner in the room and discuss whatever topic comes to plate. Cass comes clean with more about themselves and lets it slip that aside from delivering your mail, they piloted various costumes around the park. Apparently they wanted to be a voice actor when they were little and the roles helped with that dream. They played Momo the clown, the last remaining character from the park's time as a circus and Ruthie’s closest friend. The young sibling of the Bandit Twins. And Farmer Crow.

“You're Crow?!”

Cass is quick to defend themselves. “O-only on weekends…”

The festivities end with you watching the fireworks show from the park at the window, and the others drawing straws to see where they’d sleep for the night. Ell gets the couch, Atlas the floor, and Cass at the end of the bed. As you try to fall asleep, your mind wanders towards what Ell said earlier. You did have a great view of the park from where you were. You had visuals on the entire park starting from the tent that blocks everything else out of sight. The park closed hours ago, but the lights inside it are still on.

“Don't you think it's weird?”

Half asleep you pick up on a hushed conversation at the end of your bed.

“What?”

“You stole the candies so you could be alone with them, but there were way more than you had in your bag, and they had to have a backup plan if something serious happened. Isn’t it a little strange we're the only ones here?”

“A little, now that you mentioned it. The receptionist said more people were coming.”

“I guess… Night, Cass.”

You pull the blankets up to your chin and close your eyes, cradling the stuffed animals as you drift off to sleep.

#Ruthieland #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x you #male yandere #female yandere #yandere drabble #yandere fic #yandere writing #yandere story

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loubombshell · 2 years

Text

Billy being protective.

Another day, another mission. Luckily for Y/n she loved her job, she loved the people around her. The missions and her boss. Her boss was her boyfriend, obviously.

Having your boyfriend as your boss makes life much more interesting, she was able to spend her breaks with him or going on special missions, like today.

Today Anvil was there, to protect a very important senator, being threatened. He is supposed to speak in front of a big crowd and needs a lot of protection.

Billy didn't like the guy from the beginning, but he paid well and in the end, that's everything that's important to the Anvil founder.

Y/n put on her uniform and got her bag, to go to the hotel, Billy told her about. Her mission was to stay by his side, near the senator.

The woman used the elevator, moving up into the 20th floor, the doors opened with a cute sound and released her boyfriend, already waiting for her.

"welcome." Billy gave her and blinding smile, which she returned immediately. Both of them walked next to each other, when he pulled her into a quiet corner.

"That's not professional, Sir." Y/n smirked and leaned with her back on a wall, looking up to him with a smirk.

"I love it, when you call me Sir." Billy smirked and leaned down to pull her into a hungry kiss. She responded immediately to him, pulled him impossible closer by his jacket and while he moved with his hands around her waist, holding her in place.

"Isn't your client waiting?" She asked trough the kisses.

"He's an idiot, he can wait for a few more minutes. I've better things to do." He answered but Y/n pulled slowly away.

"Come on, the earlier you start the earlier we're ready, we still have day and night together." Y/n told him, fixing his tie and jacket with a smile.

Billy rolled his eyes, still with a smile and nodded. "Alright." He agreed and fixed her hair, moving with his fingers through her hair.

Both of them, looked around the corner to see, if someone was walking in the hallway. When everyone was gone, they sneaked out and walked down the hallway to Billy's client.

Billy walked through the door, into the room to introduce her to the Senator.

"Senator?" Billy called him. "That's Y/n, she'll be at your side, together with me." He introduced her to him.

"It's nice to meet you." Y/n hold her hand out for him to shake it. He took a step closer and looked her up and down once, accepting her hand.

"Are you sure you can handle this? I'm afraid some big boys are running you over." The Senator smirked.

God, what an asshole.

"Don't worry, I'm educated enough, to know how to handle it." Y/n explained to him.

The Senator chuckled. "I'm just kidding, sweetheart." He told her and patted her cheek and walked past her to go and talk with a man, standing in the doorway.

Y/n took a few steps back and turned to Billy, who was about to go after him.

"No, don't." She stopped him immediately. "It's not worth it." The girl added.

Billy looked down to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't know he's so much of a fucking idiot." He told her.

"It's no problem, I'm old enough to ignore it." She gave him a smile and took her backpack off and go with the others through the plan.

There are only a few minutes left, until the speech was supposed to start. Billy was somewhere in the hotel, to go and check on all the others.

Y/n stood in the room, together with the Senator, she was looking out of the window to check everything there when an arm sneaked around her waist.

It wasn't Billy's arm.

She looked to the side, to look into the Senators face.

"I just wanted to excuse myself for my behavior earlier." He told her with a smile.

"It's not a problem, don't worry." Y/n smiled and tried to take a step away but he didn't let go of her.

"No, I really mean it. I'll make it up to you maybe this evening? I know a good restaurant." He told her.

Y/n gave him a nervous smile. "Look, I'm sorry I don't want to. Besides my boyfriend wouldn't like this." She explained to him.

"Come on, he's not going to find out." He told her.

Suddenly he got pulled away from her. Y/n turned around, to look at Billy.

"Get your fucking hands off of her." He told the Senator.

"What is going on? I didn't do anything to her." The Senator said.

"She is clearly uncomfortable!" Billy yelled at him.

"Why do you even care?! She's just one of your idiotic workers!" The Senator scremed back.

Billy straight his back immediately and walked even closer to him, looking him directly into the face. "I care about her, because I am her boyfriend, do you understand it?" He told him.

"What? I didnt-" He started but Billy interrupted him immediately.

"If you call my people idiotic one more time, I'm gonna fucking kill you." Billy told him and took Y/n's hand to leave.

"Hey! What are you doing? You can't leave, I paid all of you!" The Senator told him.

Billy stopped and turned around to him. "I thought you called them idiotic? I don't think you'll need us anymore. Just like I don't need your money, shove it up your ass." He told him and pulled Y/n out too.

They got into the car and drove away, after talking with all the others to leave. Billy pulled up in front of their penthouse and was about to step out, when Y/n stopped him.

"You alright?" Billy asked immediately. "I'm so sorry, I left you alone with him. I should've known-" He started but she interrupted him with a little kiss.

"You're fucking sexy, when you're being protective." Y/n smirked. "And don't worry about it, I already forgot about it." She added.

Billy laughed and pulled her in for another kiss. "You wanna switch to the back seat?" He asked her.

"Our bed is not far away, you know?"

"I know, I just want to make it more exciting." He said and Y/n laughed about it.

Not even a second later, they switched to the back seat.

#billy russo #the punisher #netflix #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine #ben barnes x reader #billy russo x female reader

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ricciardosgirl · 3 months

Text

love story .ᐟ

ln4 x fem! reader.

date night in bali turns into a surprise.

fluff with a dabble of smut !!

trigger warnings ; smut near the end , unprotected p in v , wrap it weirdos. little bit filthy , praise kink , light choking mentioned uhhh tad bit of cum play.

———————————————————————

he promised a romantic date night , and he delivered. the beautiful bali sunset slowly fading as the two sat at a neat dinner table. the two of them giggling away like school kids as they talked about random things only they'd understand. the waiter brought the check and of course both of them scrambled to grab the check — but unfortunately lando's reaction time was much quicker than her own. she gave him a playful glare , lando returning the glare with his dimpled smile.

lando — the gentleman that he is , grabbed the check and paid for everything without worry. he wrapped his long fingers around her shorter ones , pressing a small kiss to her knuckle as she thanked him for the wonderful dinner. they both decided that they didn't want to go back to the hotel room just yet — so they decided to walk along the shoreline . . typical rom com style.

" thank you for tonight muppet. " she giggled , hand never leaving his , she wrapped her free hand around his cheek and stopped them from walking any further. " anything for my girl. " he says back , pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. they both stood in silence for a moment. letting the crashing waves beside them fill the air and senses. she took one good look out at the ocean beside her and let out a satisfied hum. she wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

he felt his heart racing , admiring her beauty was one thing — but the thing he had planned was another. he stayed awfully quiet , and of course that got her attention. " you okay lan ? " she whispered , eyes lingering on the ocean for just a moment longer before turning her full attention towards him.

" never been better my love. " he smiled , it's now or never. he dropped her hand - which in itself confused her. she raised and eyebrow as he awkwardly fumbled his hands down into his pockets. she could tell that inside he was some nervous wreck , but couldn't figure out why until she saw what he was reaching for.

" ah - shit. " lando falls a little as he attempted to get onto one knee , he couldn't help but break the tension of the serious moment with a laugh. " y/n. " he started , her hands already cupped her mouth whilst tears filled her eyes to the brim - already threatening to spill. " these past three years have been the best i've ever had. i — genuinely love you , and i want to be with you for the rest of my life. " he said - opening the small box that held a beautiful diamond ring.

he knew he wanted to spent the rest of his life with her on their first date. he knew from that first meeting on that she was just the one for him. he had been planning this in secrecy for months , even employing his former teammate daniel to help him out. whenever lando went ring shopping ( which was somewhat frequent because he wanted the best ring he could find for her. ) daniel would swoop in with magical plans already made. he'd distract her with small things for a few hours while lando was anxious tapping his foot as he stood looking at diamond rings from afar.

he loved her so much to the point where he wanted things to be perfect. so perfect that he planned this trips months in advance without even telling her. so perfect that he got all of his friends involved so he could find the best way to propose to her. boys night out turned into wedding plans and best man arguments. this was going to be perfect no matter what. and it was , it was perfect in her eyes. she couldn't have asked for anything better.

" y/n , will you make me the happiest man on earth . . and marry me ? " he spoke somewhat quietly , but he meant every single word of it. " of course lando , yes. " she brought him up for a long kiss — wrapping her arms around him tightly. once pulled away he put the beautiful ring on her finger. she swore she could die happy there. " i love you so much muppet. " she cried tears of joy , hugging him. " i love you more. " he whispered in her ear. this night couldn't have gone better.

the night kept getting better and better. as soon as they reached their hotel room the newly engaged couple couldn't keep their hands off of each other. it was all so quick — one moment they were fully dressed , the next they were already sweaty on the bed completely naked. lando peppered kisses all along his future wife's body , worshipping her like she should be. " my pretty fiancé. "

he cooed , her face went redder than a tomato. she let him take the lead for the night , and he did exactly that. soon enough his long fingers were buried in her cunt as his mouth worked on her clit , her hand sprawled in his hair as she yelled out blissfully at the way he was making her feel. she could never describe how lando made her feel - no other man had the guts to make her feel this damn good. " cum for me baby , cmon , you can. " he mumbled between labored breathes , he was eating her like it would be his last supper.

" give it to me. " he said , and that was all it took for her to come undone for him. he slid his fingers out and licked them clean like a lollipop , all while she struggled to get his tight jeans off. once free from his prison he showed her just how much he loved her. he spread her wide and gave her a stretch that she could never get used too. " that's it , oh fuck that's it baby. " he grunted , the man then started thrusting into her like no tomorrow. " l - lando ! " she screamed out , moans surely loud enough to get a noise complaint.

" so good for me , so fuckin' good for me pretty girl. " he wrapped his hand around her throat tightly , just how she liked it. he made eye contact with her fucked out eyes and he swore he came right then and there. the fucked out expression on her face only made him pick up the pace. " m'please! lando , lando oh fuck. " she kept calling out his name , hands etched on his back - surely leaving marks he'd later admire.

" gonna cum , gonna cum. " she called out , she was quickly losing it. " come on then. " he chuckled a bit , his thrusts never quite wavering as she came undone underneath him , giving her second orgasm of the night. he kept thrusting into her without a care in the world. her legs shook and her whole body became a wreck , still practically squirming beneath him. he was soon to follow however , letting go deep inside of her , surely painting her insides a new shade of white.

he kept his cock buried in her , catching his breath as he still laid over her , his little neck chain sexily hovering over her tits. " you did so good for me baby , so fuckin' good. love you so much. " he panted , finally pulling out. he watched as he slowly pulled his cock out — the white ropes of his cum oozing out of her. his mouth formed a slight ' o ' at the sight of it all. it was enough to get him hard again.

" you drive me mad , christ. " he said , and just a few moments later they were at it for round too. he could get used to this little life together with her.

#fanfic #f1 #lando norris #ln4 #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #lando norris i love you #formula one #writing #smut #for once my story is happy

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for not wanting to bother my best friend after getting stranded in his state?

I (19NB) recently took a birthday vacation with my mom to visit my online best friend and platonic partner (20NB) IRL for the first time. I had a lot of fun and made a lot of fun memories, and he was really accommodating of all of my physical disabilities. We'd been best friends for around two years before this, and neither of us had any real IRL friends so doing stuff together in-person was really fun.

I was going to stay a few nights at my friend's place, go to my mom's hotel room the night before our flight back home, and take an Uber to the airport. That was our plan.

The day before I was to depart, my flight back home had been cancelled. No problem, I would just reschedule to come back home a couple days later and my mom agreed to it.

Now, I didn't agree with my friend to spend any more time with him than we had already planned. He has two working parents and he has college to attend as well. I was going to spend the rest of my time on vacation with my mom unless he wanted to spend extra time with me when he was free to.

While on vacation, the airline cancelled my flight home again and there were no more flights back. This came out of nowhere, and I had to update my mom and my friend that I was staying longer in his state than expected. We scheduled another flight from a different airline, but now our vacation has been extended by, like, two-three days extra. So I spent the extra days with my mom at her hotel room.

My mom argued that my friend and his parents were being unfair to me by not letting me stay at their house during the extra days we were stuck here since they only lived twelve minutes away.

I argued that it would be rude of me to interrupt someone's schedule just to keep me entertained, especially since we didn't agree to spend this extra time together. He and his family were busy and it wasn't their responsibility to spend time with me even if it was my birthday vacation.

My mom got upset and demanded that I call my friend and ask to stay at his house since it was 'the least they could do for us while we were stuck here'. He was busy that day, and I felt very embarrassed for asking, even if it was just to make my mom calm down.

The next day, my mom once again got angry that, according to her, 'we were wasting our vacation' by not spending time with him, and essentially forced me to ask again. This time, he agreed. It was still fun, obviously, but I apologized the whole time and it felt a bit awkward since I didn't really plan on spending extra time with him.

My mom still thinks that I should've asked to hang out more than I did, but this is someone I already spend several hours a week calling on Discord with. It felt very unfair to me to spend time with someone out of obligation rather than genuinely wanting to. Luckily we did end up enjoying that extra time together, but both of us were initially reluctant about it.

I understand where my mom's frustrations came from, given that the point of the vacation was to spend time with him. My mom paid for the vacation as a birthday present for me, which is why I'm unsure if I'm the asshole or not.

So, was I the asshole for not fighting to spend extra time with my platonic partner/best friend?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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goldsbitch · 4 months

Text

That second flight

part 4 to That one Christmas flight

summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.

warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.

Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.

The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.

He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.

Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.

"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.

"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."

He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.

"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"

"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."

"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"

From now on, there was no way back.

The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.

It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.

"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.

"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."

"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."

Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.

"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.

"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."

Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.

"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.

Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."

"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"

Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.

"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."

"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."

Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."

She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.

He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.

Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.

She walked and sat opposite to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.

"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."

"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."

Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.

"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.

"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."

"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."

It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.

"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"

They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.

"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.

Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.

"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?

"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."

"Creep."

"You love it."

And she did.

He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.

"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.

"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.

"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.

"Hello, you must be Dario?"

This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.

He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.

When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."

They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.

"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.

"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"

"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."

"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.

Once Darion brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.

"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."

"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.

Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."

They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."

"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."

"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."

"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."

"Jesus, why!"

"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."

There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.

They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euro for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.

part 5

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1 @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother

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powerofelvis · 1 year

Text

No Longer The Housewife, Part 2

Pairing: Elvis Presley x f!reader; Austin!Elvis x f!reader

Word Count: 7.2K

Summary: Your husband is looking for you but you are too enamored with Elvis to care. However, you would soon learn that you shouldn’t have been in Las Vegas in the first place.

Warning(s): There are some TRIGGER warnings in this part. Physical Assault, Use of A Gun, Profanity, Angsty asf, SMUTTYYYY, Oral (m.receiving and f. receiving), masturbation (f.receiving), Foot Kink, Exhibitionism, Elvis gives reader slight aftercare.

A/N: I honestly hateeeee part of this, but I hope you guys are ready because it is very angsty and spicy. Make sure you guys read the trigger warnings before y’all dive in because whewwwww I literally had to think about how I was going to implement the husband and let me tell you, he’s dog shit in this part. I hope you guys enjoy ;)

read part one here.

masterlist.

Saturday rolled around too fast for your liking. You already knew that you would have to face Elvis after you told him that you would stay the night in his arms. Pulling yourself up in your bed, you looked over to see that Lindsay wasn’t in bed beside you. Maybe she went to breakfast; you thought as you got out of your warm bed. The cool air from the air conditioning system caused goosebumps to form on your skin as you stood in the middle of your hotel room, only dressed in your nightie. You decided to get ready for the day, walking into your shared bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and you wished you were shocked by what you had seen. Elvis did a number on you the previous night–neck covered with purple-ish marks and little scratch marks that littered your skin. If you were any other vanilla woman, you would have been uncomfortable with the sight. However, you weren’t vanilla, and you wouldn’t become vanilla now. Your fingers brushed over the marks, wincing as some of them were tender to the touch. Your mind went back to the previous night in Elvis’s penthouse–him taking you over and over in different parts of the suite and especially the hot sesh on his piano. Your head was so buried in your thoughts that you didn’t notice your hands moving slowly down your body before your fingers rubbed at your now-sensitive bud.

After your masturbation session and a hot shower, you were finally dressed and ready to go for the day. At that time, Lindsay had returned to the room, so she wanted to know how your night with Elvis went. You sat on the bed with her, not sparing the details of the racy night of lovemaking that you had experienced with him. “Oh, Y/N! You can’t leave him after he made you feel that good! You must continue seeing him or something; screw your bonehead of a husband.” Of course, she would have said something like that. Lindsay couldn’t stand your husband, and yet she is trying to convince you that the only way out of your dead-end marriage was to continue with an affair with the most lusted-after man in all of America. You wanted out of your marriage more than anyone, wanting to escape from the misery that your husband has bestowed on you since he entered your life. You wanted nothing more than to be with Elvis completely, watching him perform every night before he took you until the sun rose in the sky the following day.

Lindsay had convinced you that a day out would be something that you needed, so you followed her around the Vegas strip as she wanted to shop for the second show of Elvis that you both would catch later. You were completely unaware that your husband was trying to find you, calling your family and your other friends to see where you went off to. He wasn’t pleased that you left, especially without your ring. The ring that he paid for signaled that you belonged to him. You were his wife. He may have slept around with a few women, but he felt as if you should have been grateful that he came home to you at night. You should have been grateful that he laid beside you every night and was there waiting for you the following morning. He wasn’t a complex man, all he wanted was his wife to cook and to clean, maybe even satisfy him. All he asked in return was that his wife wouldn’t abandon him, like you were doing. He had found out from your small circle of friends that you had gone to Las Vegas with that bitch, Lindsay.

How he hated Lindsay.

Lindsay was the reason that you were so unhappy with him. She never made it unknown that she hated him, but he could say that the feeling was fuckin’ mutual. In his eyes, she was a whore who always tried to convince you to leave him and become a whore like her. You weren’t a whore, you were his good girl; the reason why he decided to marry you in the first place. He knew how easy you were to manipulate, but he couldn’t help but admit that you were the love of his life. He played on the emotions that your family felt about you being married so young, but he knew all along that Lindsay didn’t buy it. He could care less though, as he only wanted you to believe him. He wasn’t marrying Lindsay, he was marrying you. So why were you running away from him all of a sudden? He wondered if you ever did like how he never wanted you to work, wanted you to stay at home and keep up the house. Any woman would like that, right?

He may have been wrong to step out on the marriage and maybe slap you around a bit, but he wasn’t a horrible husband like the others were painting him out to be. He took care of you, making sure that you never had to work a day job in your life, while working his fingers to the bone. How could you run away from that? Who would want a woman who doesn’t even know how to work a fax machine? He does, so off he went to Las Vegas to bring you home. He finally made it to Vegas earlier that morning, stepping out of the airport with a look of disgust over his features. Out of all of the places that that whore could have brought you, she brought you to the whore capital of the United States. Your parents would have been shocked to hear that you were parading yourself around Vegas with your shitty friend, possibly waiting for another man to pick you up. He hated the thought of some greased up hooligan running his filthy hands over his woman, but he wouldn’t have to worry about that because you were faithful to him.

Even through all of the times that he knew that you caught on to his cheating ways, you never left him before. He was frightened to say the least, the thought of him being alone without you bothered him. This is why he has to find you, he has to make things go back to the way that they were. He was comfortable with what he was doing, sleeping around but cuddling with you at night. He wouldn’t dream of tainting you with his dirty habits, which is why he hasn’t touched you in about a year. As he walked along the strip, he could have sworn that he saw you with Lindsay, your nervous energy he could spot from a mile away. He didn’t want you to know that he was in Vegas, so he stayed hidden but he knew that he saw you. The outfit that you wore sent his blood boiling. You never wore those types of clothes with him, but even if you did, he wouldn’t have liked it. He followed you around town as you and Lindsay shopped for clothes, overhearing how you were going to look amazing for the show that was happening later that night. What show? He had to find out, so he stuck around you for the remainder of the day.

He found out that you were going to see Elvis Presley in concert, like you had the previous night according to Lindsay. Why were you going to see such a washed-up musician in a seedy town? Why did you look so in love when you talked about him? He could tell that you were in love with Elvis as it was the same look that you used to give him. Used to. You never looked at him in that way, only giving him glares or the resting bitch face when he would come home. Were you whoring yourself to this Elvis fellow? The blood continued to boil in him as he stomped off to get a room at the hotel that the show would be happening—the International. Once he got his room, he spent hours pacing as he thought about what he had overheard from you and Lindsay. You were definitely whoring yourself to him, you had to be. The only reason you would wear the loved on look that you had was if he had pleased you in some kind of way. He knew what Elvis Presley was about. His parents used to warn him to never become like him, a sex crazed maniac with the power to make women turn into whores. He wasn’t about to let his wife become one of his whores. Something had to be done.

***

Lindsay pulled you into all of the shops that littered the Vegas strip, making you try as many skimpy outfits that you could fit into your hands. “Remember Y/N, you have Elvis Presley under your thumb. You have to make him want you more.” Her smirk turned your stomach upside down as your thoughts once again moved to the events that happened last night. Elvis had definitely brought out the fire in you, the fire that you didn’t know that you had. You had to see him again, but you were afraid of what he would think. He probably had already figured that you were long gone from his arms and he was probably upset about it too. You didn’t know how you were going to make it up to him, but you wanted him to know that you enjoyed yourself with him. You knew you sounded like other women who had their hopes up when they were with him, but you didn’t care if you sounded crazy when you thought about staying in Vegas for him. You wouldn’t tell Lindsay that because she could make an inch into a mile with hopes. You found the perfect outfit that you were going to wear later on that night, pulling Lindsay towards the front of the store before paying for it. “You’re right, Linds. I have to make him want me tonight, but I am still going to have to find him and apologize.” You just hope that he was willing to listen.

You and Lindsay returned to the hotel soon after, your heart immediately fluttered as your footsteps walked towards the elevator. You wanted so badly to press the button to the penthouse, but you had to get ready for the show later. You shook the thought of Elvis out of your mind as Lindsay pulled you into your shared hotel room, forcing you to put all of your energy into knocking Elvis off of his feet. The dress that you bought was tight in all of the right places, your curves making themselves known. The material was mesh, showing a bit of your skin but only a tease. You placed your feet into your black heels, before walking into the bathroom where Lindsay was—teasing her hair. You stood next to her, beginning to work on your makeup. You settled for the exact replica that you had worn the night before, but you focused more on covering up the marks that Elvis had left on your body. A knock on your hotel room door broke the both of you out of your routine, Lindsay leaving you in the bathroom as she went to get the door.

A black haired man stood before her, sunglasses clad over his eyes but he was staring right at her. “Is Y/N here?” He asked, eyes raking over her body as he was clearly enamored with her. “Yes, she is. Who is asking?” She asked, catching your attention as you walked out of the bathroom, eyebrows raised. His eyes moved from Lindsay to you as he smiled. “Elvis is looking for you. I’m here to take you to him.” Your heart picked up speed, immediately nervous about meeting with him. You nodded your head, grabbing your clutch off of the bed before walking up to the door. Lindsay stood there with a bright smile on her face, clearly enjoying that you had a man who was sending members of his entourage to pick you up. You glared at her, whispering in her ear, ‘calm down, I’ll see you later,’ before you followed the mystery man out of the room. He told you as you both entered the elevator that his name was Joe. “Pleased to meet you, Joe. What does Elvis want with me?” You wanted to know what to expect before you stood in front of the man who had the world in the palm of his hand.

Joe shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the wall as he pressed the penthouse button. “He just told me that he wanted to see you. Whenever he wants something, we do it. No questions asked.” He chuckled, noticing that you were a bit nervous. “Did you do something that makes you all jumpy like this?” He poked into your mind, wanting to know what you had done to be nervous as you were. “I-.. I just want to know if he needs anything, that’s all.” You turned away from him as the penthouse floor flashed on the elevator’s wall. The doors opened as he walked off out, turning to you before urging you to walk up to the door. “Well, whatever you two have going on, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Joe laughed out, knocking on the door before he walked off in the opposite direction before disappearing from your sight. The door opened, revealing Elvis in all of his glory. He immediately brought a smile to your face as he opened the door wider so you could walk inside. “I woke up and you weren’t here, lil’ mama. What happened?” Elvis closed the door after you walked inside, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

He smelled magnificent, the scent of tobacco and a hint of cinnamon hit your nostrils as you took him all in. Part of you wanted to tell him that you ran away because you didn’t want him to get caught in your secrets, but you were so scared that you would lose him that you coward away from the truth. You weren’t ready to tell him, but you knew that you had to eventually. So, you turned around in his arms, your eyes moving from the ground up to his blue eyes that were staring intently at you. You could tell that he knew something was up, but you wanted to reassure him that nothing was wrong. You put a wide smile on your face before wrapping your arms around his neck, standing up on your toes—leaning into his embrace. “I didn’t want Lindsay to freak out if I didn’t go back. I know I promised that I would stay, but if you want, I’ll stay tonight.” The voice in your head laughed at your poor excuse. You’re such a liar.

Elvis believed you. His bright smile spread across his face as he leaned into you, pressing his soft lips against yours. You were glad that he didn’t ask further, running your fingers up the nape of his neck before resting them in his locks. He tasted amazing, something that you missed so much as the visions of his body over you came creeping back. You pulled away from him, taking him by the hand before pushing him in the loveseat that sat near the piano that he had graciously taken you on the previous night. Elvis chuckled, reaching over to grab the already lit cigar that was in the ashtray. He stuck it in between his teeth, manspreading as his eyes clouded with something that was normal for you at this point. You got down on your knees as you crawled over to him like a lioness stalking her prey. Elvis was your prey and you were ready to pounce. You didn’t know what he had over you, but you were willing to embrace your wild side when he was around.

Your hands rubbed up his legs before stopping at his thighs, your eyes watching him as he sat there, puffing away on his cigar. His head was thrown back as a smirk crossed his lips, waiting for you to continue. Your fingers danced across his thighs before you grabbed his bulge that was proudly growing in his jumpsuit. You swore that you heard his breath hitch, but he never showed that he was affected as you unzipped the material. You pulled his erection out of his jumpsuit, wrapping your lips around the tip. Elvis hissed, pushing you to push him inch by inch into your mouth. You knew that he had a show that was soon, but you wanted him to relax. All the nervousness he may have been feeling should be released from his body, along with other things. Your mouth worked his cock, moaning as one of his hands moved to rest on your head, pushing you deeper on his cock. You gagged but quickly composed yourself as you took all of him inside your mouth.

“Goddamn, baby. You know just what I need.” He praised you, watching with a smile as you sucked him off. Your hand moved to wrap around the base of his cock, the other moving to fondle his balls as you continued on through his moans and praises. You pulled off of his cock, gathering spit in your mouth before letting it fall down his cock. You wrapped your mouth around his cock once again, lapping up what you gave him, smirking as he lost his mind with how dirty you were being. “Fuck, you’re my dirty girl, huh?” He pulled up off of his cock again, spitting on his cock as well. “Lap it up, slut. My little cum whore.” He let your jaw go, pushing you on his cock once again where you did exactly what he told you to. The slurping noises picked up as your head moved up and down his length. Your hands still fondling his balls, you knew that you were driving him closer to his orgasm. His cock twitched in your mouth before he spilled in your mouth, grunting loudly as you continued taking all that he gave you.

You sat up as you opened your mouth, showing that you were holding his cum. He tapped your jaw, indicating that he wanted you to swallow all of it. You smirked, closing your mouth as you swallowed his cum, putting his cock back into his jumpsuit before zipping him back up. He finished up his cigar, putting it out before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. Elvis pulled you up to sit on his lap, nuzzling against your shoulder. “What did I do to deserve something like that, baby?” You looked down at him, running your fingers up across his chest—playing with the chest hair that sat prettily. “I want you to enjoy your shows tonight, relax. Everyone is gonna be there to see you.” You wanted him to know that you would be there to see him. As if on cue, a knock on the door broke you both out of your romantic stupor as you slid off of Elvis’s lap. Elvis stood up from the loveseat before crossing the room, opening the door to see Jerry and Joe standing there. You waved at them, rocking on your feet as Jerry told Elvis that it was time for him to head down because the show was about to start.

“C’mere baby.” You didn’t need to be told twice before you were immediately at Elvis’s side, gripping your clutch in your hands. “Jerry is gonna take you down to meet with your lady friend. We have a table for you and her so I can see you. I’ll see you later, okay?” He pressed his lips to your forehead, pushing you gently out of the penthouse as he and Joe walked in the opposite direction, disappearing once again from your sight. Jerry escorted you down to the showroom, your eyes immediately found Lindsay who stood next to the table you assumed was where you were going to sit. As you neared the table, you swore you could feel familiar eyes watching you, but you chose not to pay it any attention. You sat down at the table, conversing with Lindsay as you waited for the show to begin.

***

What you didn’t know was that your husband was also in the showroom, standing in the back of the room, watching you. He managed to get a ticket for the show tonight after hearing that you would attend earlier. He was still boiling with anger, watching as you giggled along with Lindsay as you waited for the show to start. He found a table that was out of sight for you, but he was still willing to keep his eyes on you. Once the show was over, you would know that he was there. The lights lowered as the music picked up, your husband’s eyes moved between Elvis and your table. He wasn’t impressed with the show, never being a fan of his music but he had to admit that he must have had a hell of a talent to have women throwing themselves at him. He noticed that you were also acting like those women. He didn’t like it one bit. You would soon learn that he didn’t like this type of behavior that you were exhibiting. You would soon go back with him and he would never let you out of his sight again.

He gripped the glass of the whiskey that he had ordered, downing the liquid as he gained alcohol courage for later. As the show moved on, the anger in him brewed and brewed until he was unable to keep the look of disgust from his face as he watched you and your friend swoon over the dancing man that was performing on the stage. As time went on, he didn’t realize that he had ordered more glasses of whiskey until his vision was getting blurred. He had to stop himself from drinking as his anger grew from the fact that you were enjoying yourself more than he was. You should be enjoying yourself in the comfort of his home, sitting with him and lusting after him. However, that was not the case. Elvis soon exited the stage, walking in the crowd as he kissed the women who wanted it. Your husband scoffed, not understanding what women found so attractive about him but he sure as hell wasn’t impressed. It was until he saw Elvis walk over to your table, placing his hand on your face and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that his anger blew out of the top. He was so angry that he felt that he had steam coming out of his ears.

Once Elvis walked away from you getting lost in the crowd, your husband decided that he would make his move. He stood up from the table, walking over to your table. “So, this is where you are, baby.” He spat, smirking angrily as he noticed how shocked you were that he knew where you were. He grabbed your arm, yanking you from the table as he pulled you out of the ballroom. He ignored the screaming of Lindsay who was telling him to let you go and the pleas of yours—crying that he was hurting you. “I come home after working all fucking day to you gone. I find out that you’re in Vegas with your whore friend and now I know that you’re whoring yourself to see Elvis Fuckin’ Presley.” He stopped, turning back as he saw Lindsay tugging you away from him. He stopped in his tracks, shooting a glare toward Lindsay. “Let her go, bitch. You took my wife away from me and now you want to interfere? You’re so fuckin’ lucky that I don’t fucking call the law on you.” He pulled you away from her, pressing the elevator button before pushing you inside of the elevator—Lindsay begging for him to let you go as the door shut in her face.

***

You struggled against your husband as he pulled you into his hotel room. When did he arrive in Vegas? Why was he there? “Honey, please. Let me go, I’ll go back with you. Please.” You begged as he pushed his room door open, throwing you inside. He walked inside, slamming the door behind him as he rolled up his sleeves. You gulped, knowing that he was going to punish you. He gripped your hair tightly, tilting your head back as he looked over your face. “So, you came here to Vegas to fuck that washed-up pervert?!” His hand came across your face so fast that you couldn’t blink as the pain made your ears ring. You fell backward, pushing away from him as you whimpered. “Please, I’m not doing anything. I just came to-….” You couldn’t continue with your excuse as he pulled you up by your hair, pushing you onto the bed. The bed bounced as you pushed yourself up in an attempt to get away from him. Your husband was not having it, pulling you back to him by your legs as he sat on them. “I didn’t know I married a whore.” His fingers caressed your cheek as his other hand held your arms. “I didn’t know your parents raised a fuckin’ whore.” The hand that was once caressing your cheek soon wrapped around your throat, squeezing a little too tight for your liking.

You gasped, jerking underneath him as your oxygen was cut off. In your mind, you were begging for anyone to help you. You were begging Lindsay would get you some help. You were begging that Elvis would come to save you. You knew, you wishfully thought, as you knew that nobody usually saved you from the wrath of your husband. Your husband moved his hand that was holding your arms, punching you across the face as his other hand still choked you. You couldn’t do anything but cry, wondering why you didn’t leave the country instead of coming to Vegas with Lindsay. You were getting beaten and strangled in your husband’s bed, but no one could save you. As he sat above you, punching and slapping your face as well as choking you, you were fighting back with everything that you had. Your hands were pushing your husband’s face, scratching him across the face as you managed to get his hand from across your throat. You coughed, your oxygen coming back as you screamed out with the little voice you had. “Help! Help me!”

Your husband chuckled as he held your cheeks in his hand, glaring down at you. “No one will help you, bitch. I’m going to show you who you belong to and news flash, it’s not Elvis Presley.” His hand connected with your face once more and you heard a snap. The fucker broke your fucking nose, but you were so numb to the pain that it didn’t phase you. You were only worried about saving your life and not being found dead in a huge hotel in Las Vegas. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please stop!” You begged, now sobbing as you covered your face with your hands, which was becoming soaked with your blood. At that moment, you were sure that you were gonna die and you wouldn’t even be able to see Elvis again. The exact time that your husband was torturously assaulting you, Lindsay had found Joe. She was crying, trying to explain what was happening with you. “Doll, you’re gonna have to calm down. What’s happening?” Lindsay wasn’t sure where you were, but she wasn’t going to stop until she made sure you were safe.

“Y/N—is in trouble! Her husband has found her,” Lindsay started, noticing that Joe’s eyes widened. “H-husband?” He asked, shaking his head. “Long story, but he is probably killing her! We have to help her! He is so abusive to her; he literally will kill her if we don’t help her!” She sobbed, trying to get Joe to do something. Joe nodded his head frantically as he tugged her with him as they went off to find Elvis and the others. Joe led Lindsay to the dressing room where Elvis was after finishing up the show. Jerry was standing at the door, turning to look at the both of you. His smile fell from his face when he saw that Lindsay was crying and Joe was visibly angry. “What’s going on?” He started before looking back at Lindsay. Joe explained what was happening, noticing how Jerry’s face paled before he turned to knock on the door. “Hey, EP. We got a problem.” Elvis opened the dressing room door, immediately noticing that the aura was off. “What’s—where's Y/N?” He asked, eyes locking to Lindsay who clearly didn’t have Y/N standing next to her. Jerry leaned in, whispering the situation in his ear. Elvis’s fists clenched as he pushed past everyone. Joe and Jerry followed behind him, knowing exactly the reason why Elvis was upset.

Your husband had finally gotten tired of beating you, laying beside you on the bed as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You silently sobbed as you laid there, sick to your stomach. You were sick to your stomach because you were laying next to your husband, sick to your stomach because you were covered in blood and bruises, and most importantly you were sick to your stomach because in the midst of it all, you missed Elvis. You wanted Elvis to come rescue you and in the back of your mind, you knew that he would. There was suddenly a knock on the door, and you sat up in bed. Your husband grumbled as he sat up with you, yelling at the door. “I asked not to be disturbed!” The knock came once again, causing your husband to stand up and walk to the door. As he opened it, a gun was placed against his forehead. You gasped, sitting back against the bed frame as Lindsay ran inside of the room. You reached out for her, sobbing in her arms as you watched the scene in front of you. Elvis walked into the room, followed by Joe and Jerry with his gun pressed against your husband’s temple.

“You son of a bitch! You like beating women? You like hitting on MY woman!” Elvis gritted, his blue eyes were painted over with fury, and at any moment, he would have snapped. “She’s my wife! What in the hell do you mean, ‘your woman,’ Your husband spat at Elvis, careful not to say anything crazy as Elvis still had the gun pressed to his head. Elvis chuckled darkly, pressing his tongue in his cheek as he pushed the safety down. You gasped, closing your eyes as you feared that Elvis would kill him. The look in his eyes was so deadly that you were sure that the room would be covered with his brains if he wasn’t careful. “Do you think that I give a fuck that she’s your wife? After today, she’s going to be my wife. You don’t deserve to have her after the shit that you’ve done to her. I know all about you putting your fuckin’ hands on her, forcing her to stay at home while you go out and lay your dick in other women.” Elvis walked your husband backward to the nearest wall, still pressing the gun to his temple. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t blow your fuckin’ brains out all over these walls? You’re gonna leave Las Vegas tonight and crawl back into whatever fuckin’ hole you came out of, and you’re gonna leave Y/N alone. You ain’t gonna show your face back here ever again, or I will fuckin’ kill you. You hear me, ‘ya son of a bitch?” At that moment, he pulled the trigger, but it clicked. Your husband looked like he could shit an egg out of his ass.

Elvis laughed, smacking your husband’s face lightly before rearing his hand back—connecting his fist to his face. Your husband fell down on the floor, holding his cheek as Elvis climbed over him. The punches kept connecting to your husband’s face as Lindsay helped you out of the bed. Joe rushed over to the both of you as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you out of the room—the sounds of your husband’s groans echoing in your ears. You called out for Lindsay as your vision started to blur. You hadn’t realized that you had lost a good amount of blood until you passed out in Joe’s arms to the sound of Lindsay screaming your name.

When you came hours later, you were in Elvis’s bed. It was still the dead of night, but you could tell that the sun would rise soon. You winced, feeling your head pounding and your ears ringing. Your mind returned to your husband pounding into your face hours earlier, the fear jolting you out of the bed. “Woah, baby. Relax.” A soothing southern accent stopped you in your tracks as you were thinking of taking off once again–escaping from the wrath that your husband had inflicted upon you. “I know you ain’t tryna to leave me again, honey.” Elvis placed his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around; his blue eyes were once again looking into your soul. Although you knew that your face was covered in scratches and bruises, Elvis still looked at you as if you were beautiful. “Gee, honey. I hope you didn’t come here to think that you could come into my world and then leave. How long have you been dealin’ with that son of a bitch?” You were taken aback by the question as you thought that he would have asked about you hiding your marriage from him. “You’re not going to ask about why a married woman is sleeping around with you?” Your voice shook as your arms instinctively wrapped around yourself. Elvis laughed, leading you back over to the bed and sitting you down on the edge.

“Honey, married women are the least of my problems. There have been plenty who have wanted to be in your position, but none of them have made it past one night. D’ya know what makes you different? You have that fire in your eyes, as I do. You want something better for yourself, which is what I like about you. So no, I ain’t askin’ ‘ya about why you are sleepin’ with me. Unless you want to tell me that yourself?” Elvis looked over you with a look of understanding before sitting beside you. You took a deep breath before you started your story. You had met your husband when you were a teenager and immediately married him, but deep down, you did not want to. You told him about how your husband made you stay home while he was out sleeping with other women but would come home and beat you, even though you did nothing wrong. As you were talking, you noticed that Elvis’s fists were clenched–white-knuckled, and his jaw flexed. You placed your hand over one of his, reassuring him that you were okay. “I shoulda’ shot that bastard back there. I didn’t want to scare you off.” He pulled you into a hug before he kissed your forehead.

You melted into his embrace as he kissed down your face, running his fingers over your bruises. You winced, cowering away from him. “I’m sorry you had to save me back there. I feel embarrassed.” You shouldn’t be here with Elvis right now, as you thought that your husband was surely going to find you again. “If you think that your sorry excuse of a husband is going to find you here, he’s not. Joe and Jerry took care of him.” He spoke as if he read your mind. You instantly relaxed, not caring where he was. You were done with him as far as you were concerned. Your husband had ruined your life for far too long, so now it was time for you to live for yourself. Elvis continued to be attentive to your needs more than your husband had ever been. The thought of this made you feel warm inside, so you leaned in pressing your lips to his softly. Elvis stilled before pressing his lips back to yours gently, careful not to hurt you. He pushed you back to the bed, moving his lips down to your neck.

He traced the hand print that was around your neck, grimacing as he thought about how your husband could have killed you. “That bastard, I should have killed him.” He repeated, pressing soft kisses along your skin, licking and nipping at your collarbone. “I think I’m going to worship you tonight. Don’t need to worry your pretty little head about pleasing me.” He whispered, pushing your straps that held the dress to your body down your shoulders. As the straps fell down your shoulders, his lips chased them—nipping and licking at your skin again. He smirked, noticing that purple marks that littered your skin that he knew came from him. As Elvis removed your dress from your body, you shivered with anticipation as you watched him continue to kiss down your body, undoing your bra before throwing it on the floor. He pecked around your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple. You could have died and went to heaven at that moment. His mouth felt hot on your skin, pushing you to release a whine from your lips.

Elvis continued to show your breasts much needed attention, but you were needy for him. You needed him to assure you that he would protect you. “Please, Elvis.” You whined but you knew he wanted to take care of you tonight. You pushed the urgency of having him inside of you aside as your eyes continued to watch him, kiss and lick down your body once again. His fingers quickly pulled your panties down off your hips, throwing them down where your bra now lay. His lips wrapped around your budding bud, fingers rubbing between your folds. Your arousal was beginning to pool around your walls, slowly oozing out of you. Your back arched off of the bed as he slid two fingers inside of you. Your folds fluttered around his fingers as your own fingers found their way into his hair. Your moans grew louder and louder. You didn’t care. You were deep in pleasure, ignoring the pain that was screaming all over your body from the abuse your husband gave you. You lived for the pleasure mixed with the pain, remembering how Elvis was close to shooting your husband earlier. Your pussy fluttered again with the thought, whimpering curses under your breath as he continued to eat you.

Elvis enjoyed the sweetness that was coming from you, lapping up the arousal that was pooling on his taste buds. He moaned, sucking your pulsating bud, spreading your legs wider as his fingers fucked into you. “You want me badly, dont’cha baby?” He teased, licking around your pussy lips as he pulled away from you; continuing to finger fuck you into oblivion. Your orgasm was growing closer and closer, your toes curling into the sheets as you continued whimpering louder. Elvis pulled his fingers from you before you could cum causing you to groan out in disbelief. He tsked as he kissed down your leg as he pulled your foot up to his face, pressing kisses along the padding of your toes. You gasped, not used to the feeling as he kissed up the side of your foot. Elvis smirked, wrapping his lip around your big toe, playfully moving his tongue around it. Your body arched off the bed again as Elvis pulled your toe out his mouth. “Touch yourself, baby. I wanna watch you cum.”

‘Your hand moved down to your clit, rubbing in a circular motion as Elvis continued to wrap his lips around your toes. You never knew that Elvis was into feet, but you would be lying if you didn’t find the idea arousing of Elvis licking and sucking your toes. You would even entertain the idea of giving him a footjob later, if he wanted. As your brain replayed the moment of Elvis scaring your husband with his gun, you chased your high as you continued rubbing your clit with your fingers. “Fuck Elvis! You were so hot today, scaring my fuckin’ husband with your gun.” You whimpered out, not caring that it could have ruined the moment. Elvis’s brow raised as he smirked at your words. “Yeah? You loved seeing me take care of your husband for hurting my woman? For thinking that he could take you away from me?” He continued kissing at your toes, his eyes not leaving the sight of you pleasing yourself. “Use your other hand to finger yourself slowly, baby. Don’t rush..” He commanded as he moved away from your foot, getting on his knees—only watching you. You groaned, throwing your head back against the bed as your fingers continued to rub at your clit, the overstimulation at its full peak. You could feel all of your orgasm pushing forward like a train, the urge to pee crashing over your body as your hips lifted off of the bed, your juices shooting straight into Elvis’s face. You screamed at the top of your lungs as your legs continued shaking and your orgasm continued to crash over you. “Holy shit, mama! ‘ya fuckin’ covered my outfit with your squirt.” Elvis chuckled, standing up from the bed as he unbuttoned his blouse.

His chest glistened with the mixture of his sweat and your juices, which you couldn’t help but to stare at his dark hair that littered his chest. You collapsed on the bed, trying to catch your breath as the pounding of your heart took over your hearing. Elvis walked away from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he wiped himself off with a towel before he headed back towards the bed, where you laid. He leaned over to your lips, pressing an passionate kiss to your lips before he wiped the glistening arousal from your thighs and your pussy. “Get some rest, mama. Tomorrow, we have a lot of things to do before we get you settled to stay here.” Your brow raised as you looked over at him. After everything that happened tonight, Elvis was still willing to allow you to stay by his side. He was willing to help you escape your husband. Your eyes fluttered as darkness surrounded you. Somehow, as you slumbered beside Elvis, you had never felt more safe. You were never safe with your husband–the bruises and scratches were proof of the pain and anguish that you lived with. However as you laid in Elvis’s arms, snoozing away, Elvis made it his business that your husband would never touch you again. He was going to make sure of it, even if he had to handle it himself.

Taglist:

@aconflagrationofmyown @lindszeppelin @headfullofpresley @venus-haze @ash-omalley @oh-my-front-door @oh-kurva @loving-elvis @lovininapinkcadillac @ep-supremacy @sournatromanoff @woundmetender @rainydayz101 @aysiiarenee @godlypresley @bisexualwvtson @samfangirls @missmaywemeetagain @literally-just-elvis-fics @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @rosaminny @foreverdolly @austinbutlersbaby @ggwritesstuff

#elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis #austin!elvis smut #elvis smut #elvis presley angst #austin!elvis angst #daisy writes

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garbinge · 1 year

Text

Something Borrowed

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Day 10 from these April Prompts: “Returning something borrowed long ago”

Summary: A familiar face surprises you along with all the emotions that come with seeing him.

Warnings: Angst. All my fics are 18+ regardless of content.

Word Count: 4.7k words

Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini

Javi questioned himself a multitude of times. First, when he overheard your parents talking about you at the party his father dragged him to, back home. He heard them mention New York and he wasn’t shocked, you had always wanted to get out of Laredo. The second time he found himself questioning his judgment was when he started to sign up for work in New York; conferences, investigations, you name it, if it was in New York, Javi’s name was on the list. When he accepted the invitation to the DEA National Security Press Conference, that was another key moment of him debating his choices. He wasn’t alone in that either. Many of his co-workers had questioned his desire to go to New York City for a conference, it was truthfully the least Javi thing to do, not to mention people usually begged to be switched off of them. It was a lot of paperwork, a lot of media, a lot of questions, likely some protesting, both sides of it, overall it just wasn’t something people looked forward to. Javi had some excuse worked up though, something along the lines of needing a break and not wanting to waste his vacation days.

Steve saw through it, the moment he got back to the DEA HQ and assignments were debriefed he knew there was something else Javi was up to.

“The Big Apple, huh?” Steve caught up to Javi with a light jog as they left the debriefing room.

“Bullshit assignment, gives me some time off while still getting paid.” Javi mumbled the practically memorized excuse.

“They put me back in Miami. But maybe I’ll make a request for a transfer, never been to the five boroughs.” Steve treaded carefully trying to read Javi’s reactions.

Javi’s head practically broke to look at Steve, “I’d think you’d wanna stay in Miami, ain’t that where Connie and Olivia are?”

“Yea, but like you said its a bullshit assignment. They could come with. Hey, you know,” Steve pointed his finger and bounced his hand up in down with a nod, “we could all stay in the same hotel, grab dinners, explore the city, think that’d be fun.”

Javi began to trip on his words, not sure how he wanted to respond.

“I’m fuckin’ with you, Jav.” Steve’s smile was ear to ear. “You goin’ to see her?”

Steve wasn’t in the complete know about you but he knew a few things from some conversations on late nights in the field back in Columbia. He knew you were Javi’s last serious girlfriend, and assumed probably his first as well. He also knew that you broke his heart, which was impossible for Steve to wrap his mind around for a bit, with how Javi swooned his way around women, it was hard to imagine him heartbroken but eventually he realized that was probably why he swooned his way around so many women. If there was one thing Steve knew for sure about you though, it was that Javi was still in love with you. Despite his jokes and incessant way of talking about what the two of you had, he put you on a pedestal, and that was all Steve needed to know he was still down bad for you.

Javi stopped walking now and locked eyes with Steve, he said nothing, just stared at him.

“You coulda just booked a flight yourself, avoided all the paperwork and probably every other shitty thing that comes with these press things.” Steve joked.

“I don’t even know if I’m gonna see her.” Javi picked up his pace again, not wanting to get into this with Steve.

By the time Steve caught up to Javi they were at the end of the hallway where they would part ways. Steve wasn’t going to push Javi’s buttons anymore, he knew he already had his fair share.

“Well, whatever happens, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Steve’s grin grew.

“So come back married with a kid?” Javi’s face was still neutral.

The joke let Steve know Javi wasn’t going to hold the teasing against him so he nodded and patted his back. “Connie’s always talkin’ about making more friends with kids, you’d be doin’ me a favor.”

Javi smiled at Steve’s sentence and let out a chuckle before putting a cigarette in his mouth. “See ya, Murph.”

_________

Javi’s leg bounced up and down, his eyes were locked on the clock in the large auditorium. He was in the crowd today rather than on the panel stage. Although he counted his blessings for that, time passed a lot slower when you had to listen to people talk about boring shit all day. The minute the speaker delivered their closing line and dismissed the crowd, Javi was up and moving swiftly. His brain was on autopilot as he moved through the large mass of people, his body slammed into the auditorium doors as he pushed them wide open, keeping his same pace as he reached the second set of doors that would put him out on the street.

He pushed his way through the even larger crowd outside, the protesters were loud and fearless. The other lucky part of not being on the panel today meant no one would recognize him, he could move through the people without a second thought.

His feet kept moving, his fingers habitually grabbing a cigarette from the carton in his pocket but he refused to light it. Before he could really realize what he was doing, where he was going, he was standing in front of the bar you worked at. It was full of suits, it was a more upscale place, not a dive bar in the least. The full front of the building was made of glass, only a few decals of the bar logo in the way of fully seeing it but that didn’t matter. Javi clocked you from the moment he looked in. Through the large happy hour crowd of people that not only filled the restaurant but the bar too. You were head in the game, moving from one side of the bar to the other in seconds, shaking drinks, stirring others, filling up drafts of beer all while keying in orders to the computer.

Javi made his way inside, he nodded off the hostess and pointed to the bar. He was quick to take a seat at one of the bar height tables, a waitress coming by within moments to take his order of whiskey neat. He was still unsure if he was going to say anything to you, he felt speechless when he saw you, it had been years since the last time you two shared the same space let alone saw each other.

Javi downed the whiskey the moment it was delivered to his table, the liquid courage he needed to make his way up to the bar. He didn’t rush or push through the crowd of people, in fact there was a moment where he paused in the midst of everyone when he heard your voice call out to one of the other bartenders. There was a second of doubt that went through his head, the thought to turn around but but before he knew it, his arms were resting against the counter, empty glass bouncing up and down in his hand.

You threw the towel over your shoulder and scooped ice into the shaker right in front of Javi. His presence was still unknown to you, your mind was usually one track as you worked. It was one of your favorite things about being a bartender here, there was no room to think, to let your mind take over, you were focused on one task and jumping to the next in seconds. When you did have a second to think, it was generally spent on other people’s problems.

Your eyes glanced up at the bar, a habit you had to keep everyone served and happy. The empty glass that was bouncing slightly up and down caught your attention immediately.

“Whiskey?” You asked, still not making eye contact with him as you reached to grab the glass from his hands.

“Neat.”

His voice made you stop dead. Every thought you had pushed away, left no room for over the last few years rushed to your brain. It was like his voice released a flood of emotions and things you haven’t felt in years.

You glanced up, his eyes caught yours immediately. He looked different and exactly the same simultaneously. His brown eyes were heavy on you and his stare was deep, he looked good, looked older, but you felt like you were both kids again staring at each other in the backseat of your friends car to go do something stupid. His hair was a bit longer, especially in the back, there were tufts of hair that you couldn’t help thinking about pulling in bed. He had a fully-grown mustache, which was new to you. The last time you saw him it was shorter, you remember that clearly because you’d tease him about it pricking you every time he kissed you.

“Hey.” His voice was deep and raspy.

“I’m taking my 15!” You called out immediately, not caring to hear what anyone’s response would be. Your hand pointed towards the back exit sign as you nodded towards it. Javi’s head shook in agreeance and walked over to the exit first, making his way into the side alley.

You joined him shortly after, he was perched up against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground until you opened the door. Once you walked out he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You stood next to him, only difference being you weren’t relaxed enough to lean against the wall like him. Reaching to your back pocket you pulled out a carton of cigarettes, bringing the box to your mouth and taking one with your mouth. You offered over the carton to him and he simply shook his head while lifting his hand in denial.

“I quit.”

Your head snapped towards him at that. In all your years of knowing him he smoked, you never knew him not to.

“It’s been a week.” He responded to your reaction.

You let out a laugh, you didn’t mean to but it just came out. Of course it was only a week of him not smoking. Putting your cigarette back in the box, you leaned back against the wall. His face frowned at your action.

“I’m not gonna be a nicotine tease.” You shrugged looking up at him as he smirked.

There was silence, the only noise being the busy New York streets and the sound of your heart pumping fast in your ears.

“What the are you doin’ here, Jav?”

“I got sent up here for a conference. I heard your parents mention you were here in New York, figured I’d try my luck.”

You nodded, folding your arms across your chest.

“You seem,” you searched for the right word but were coming up short.

“Yea,” He agreed with you even though you didn’t actually say anything.

“I don’t know what to do or say here, Javi.” Your head shook.

“Me either.” His shoulders raised and fell in a shrug.

“Look, I got,” your arm raised to get a look at your watch, “I got 7 more minutes until I have to go back to the craziness inside. I don’t know what the fuck to say but I do know 7 minutes isn’t going to be long enough to figure it out and say it, so why don’t we do this.” You kicked off the wall and faced him. “What’s your night lookin’ like?”

“Wide open.” He was staring at you again with that broody face.

“I get off at 9, I can set you up at a table, send over food, give you a kids menu so you can do the mazes and crossword puzzles to pass the time.” You gave a half smile at that before continuing, “or you can explore the city and meet me here at 9, up to you.”

“Crayons too.” Javi said only seconds after you finished speaking. “I want the menu and crayons.”

You let out a chuckle and made your way to the door to open it for him, waving your hand to shuffle him back inside.

The hours passed by quick for you, you were busy but for the first time in a long time, you let your mind go everywhere it needed to as you worked. Knowing you were going to have to talk with Javi and say things that you had buried deep down was intimidating and despite your hesitancy to let yourself feel things lately, you weren’t going to go into it with nothing prepared.

On the other side, time was probably moving slow for Javi. He wasn’t in the thick of things, he had eaten, had another drink, and gotten to the back side of the kids menu as the time passed for him. He was staring at the tic tac toe board when you approached the table, bag thrown over your shoulder and sweatshirt unzipped but covering your arms. You picked up a crayon and placed an O in one of the open spots since he had already filled some in. He looked up at you and quickly looked back down to fill another space with an X. It ultimately put you both at a road block, no matter where either of you put the next letter it’d result in you both losing.

“No fun playing by yourself.” You placed the crayon down on the table and stared at him.

“It’s actually kind of challenging playing solo.”

It was small talk but it stuck with you. The fact that he had clearly done this before, it made you realize he was lonely. You weren’t completely in the dark about where Javi was all these years. He had told you about the opportunity in Colombia shortly before everything fell apart between you two and even though you assumed he’d still go, you had it confirmed by his father a few months later.

You remembered that day so clearly, you had heard on the news about The Palace of Justice seize in Colombia. You didn’t know the logistics of where Javi was going to be, that the DEA would be set up at the embassy, in your head it was likely Javi was at the Supreme Court. You were out of breath and you were holding back tears as you pounded on the front door. To put it frankly, you were a wreck. Chucho answered the door seemingly quite annoyed but immediately softened when he saw you.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, I just, I saw the news the shootout in Colombia, I don’t even know if Javi’s there but they’re saying hundreds of government officials are dead and if Javi did go, I’m not sure if they’d be classifying him as an agent or a government official and–”

Chucho cut you off and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s fine. I just got off the phone with him like an hour ago. He works at the embassy, was nowhere near the Palace.” He spoke monotone but his words soothed you in a way you didn’t believe was possible.

That felt like a lifetime ago, and yet seeing Javi stand tall next you as you walked the city streets back to your apartment, made all of that come crashing back down on you along with a million other emotions and thoughts.

“I never said sorry,” You broke the silence, “when everything happened.” You added like he needed the clarification.

“You don’t–” Javi started to talk but you cut him off.

“No, I do.” Your arms crossed as a way to keep yourself warm from the breeze.

“Thanks.” Javi answered knowing arguing with you wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “I’m sorry too, for just leaving.”

“I don’t think I really gave you any other choice.” You were right, you didn’t. “You’re different now, Jav.” Your voice changed, it was now a whisper almost like it was hard for you to admit.

“Different? How?” He curiously asked.

“You seem,” The gears in your mind turned to search for the right word to describe it. The Javi you knew was soft, he was in love, he was sweet. The Javi in front of you still had some of those traits, selfishly you hoped he saved them for you, but you could see the new traits overpowering them. He was cold, standoffish, short, you could tell he’d seen some things, you could also tell that he hadn’t settled down despite him practically begging you to after he dropped the news that he accepted a job in Colombia.

“Jaded.” You finished your thought.

There was a good amount of time where you felt Javi just taking in what you said, sitting with the sentence, you didn’t mean to offend him or cause him to shut down.

“We could’ve been good, you know.” His sentence startled you with how long he was silent.

“We were kids.” You disagreed with that statement, you wished you could have been good, that you could have committed to a life at that age but you couldn’t. Being older, maybe you regret that now seeing what life was, maybe it would have been more enjoyable with Javi by your side but it was too late to go back.

“Still are.” Javi held up the folded up children's menu he took with him for some reason.

You let out a chuckle and grabbed his arm and leaned into him as you strolled. It felt nice, one of those ‘feels like no time has passed at all’ moments.

“You seem lonely.” Again, you weren’t trying to be mean or pour salt in a wound, it was just the truth.

Javi nodded, his hands in his pockets as you still clung to his arm. He’d be lying if he said he was uncomfortable, despite the awkwardness of the situation, you leaning into him brought him a feeling of security.

“You do too.” His face was sad when he said it. It was almost ironic. How this conversation years ago, with the same words would have been pointed and petty and now they were sad and caring.

“This is me.” You didn’t mean to wrap up that part of the conversation but you had arrived in front of your place.

“It was good to see you.” Javi wasn’t going to push for more conversation, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to get out of this, but it was true, it was good to see you.

“You wanna come up?” If Javi wasn’t going to push, you were.

“I don’t wanna intrude.” His Texan accent jumped out there for a second and it made you melt, thinking of home tended to do that to you.

“You get the closure you wanted?” Your question was blunt, but honest because you knew that you hadn’t.

He didn’t answer the question with words, he just let his head fall and follow you up the stairs.

As you entered into your apartment, walking into the space you picked up some laundry that was tossed along the floor and threw it into your hamper. “Sorry for the mess, I don’t usually have company.” You threw your head over your shoulder to look at him, “I’m pretty lonely.” You teased him slightly at what he had just said to you. It earned a laugh out of him as he shook his head, both of you making your way to the living room. There was a set of blankets and pillows on the couch, likely where you’d fall asleep every night by the looks of the indent in the couch and the multiple empty wine glasses on the coffee table.

“I know it looks like a sad and pathetic life, and sometimes it is,” your eyebrows raised as you joked, “but it’s also pretty cool, lots to do in the city, I hang with my friends from the bar a lot, but I like my little space too.”

“It’s nice, it’s very you.” Javi looked around and took in all the art on the walls, the photos of your family that he recognized immediately and others of whom he assumed to be friends from your time in the city.

“You want a drink?”

“Please.” His response was quick as he sat down on the couch.

You disappeared to what Javi assumed was the kitchen for a few moments allowing him to take in everything around him. Music had started playing but it was muffled so you probably loaded a record into the player that was in another room, but it was nice. Javi appreciated your efforts to make things feel normal.

“I didn’t have whiskey.” Your voice interrupted his staring at your bookcase. Balancing two glasses of red wine and the bottle you slowly walked into the living room.

“You know I’ll drink anything.” He smiled and took one glass from your grip.

“So this–, I don’t want this to be awkward.” After taking a sip and placing your glass on the coffee table, you sat down next to him, there was something in your hand and Javi clocked it immediately. “But I borrowed this for way too long.”

You extended your hand out to hand him the black velvet box that he gave you on the last day of your relationship. Javi hesitated for a minute but then took the black box and opened it. The engagement ring was just as shiny as the day he bought it, the gold band was polished and the diamond was glistening.

“I went to get it cleaned a few times.” You stared at him looking down at the ring. It was giving you deja-vu. This was exactly how it went down all those years ago, both of you sitting on the couch, but that time you were staring at the ring. Javi told you to hold onto it, think on it, he wanted you to go to Colombia with him as his wife but he knew it was a lot to ask. He wanted to give you a moment to take it all in, he thought you’d say yes but instead you called him, you told him you never wanted to speak to him again, you were done, you both were in two different places in life and that it was never going to work. That was the gist of it, all of it coming back to haunt you at this moment.

“Can I ask you something?” Javi closed the box and turned to look at you, his brows frowning together. “Why’d you say no?”

You opened your mouth to speak and Javi shook his head, “and please don’t just repeat what you told me then, I’ve heard those words on repeat for years.”

Fuck. That hurt you.

“I wasn’t. I don’t think I meant half the shit I said anyways, I just was pushing you away.” You took a deep breath. “I think I was scared. You had your life together, Jav. You were going to work with the fuckin’ DEA, you were gonna catch Pablo Escobar. I was barely graduated from community college, working parttime as a goddamn cashier at Kohls. It’s stupid now thinking about it but I felt like saying yes to you, meant saying no to myself.” You leaned back on the couch.

“You would’ve hated Bogota.” Javi said, leaning back on the couch extending his arm out to play with your hair that was spread out over the back of the cushion. “I would’ve hated you being there.” He sighed. “It was easy to ask you to follow me to Colombia, be my wife, but it would’ve been hard for you to be that. For me to be a husband.” His head shook as the memories of Colombia flooded into his brain, the idea of going through all of that with the added worry of your safety seemed impossible. He saw Steve battle with that everyday, he also saw the fallout of what Colombia did to them. “My partner, he’s married. I saw how it worked for him. How it didn’t work sometimes, either.”

You nodded at that, “Did your dad tell you about when I came over there?”

Javier shook his head and frowned. “The Palace Siege. I saw it on the news. It was probably, what? Two months after you left. I didn’t know where you’d be, I thought you were there. I ran to your house to ask your dad if you were dead.” After a big sigh you continued speaking, “After that, I stopped watching the news, I couldn’t do it.”

The room filled with heaviness, these weren’t easy topics to talk about and you two were discussing them like they were nothing.

“I love you.”

Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the emotion but it just came out. Regardless of why, it was the truth. You never stopped loving Javi.

His head practically snapped to look at you when the words left your mouth. His face was full of shock, it made you want to back track, rewind a few seconds, but then you felt it. His lips were soft and eager against yours, you pulled him against you so that now you were horizontal on the couch with him on top of you. As your lips intertwined and his hands explored each other’s bodies, learning them all over again, Javi pulled away a few centimeters, his lips still barely touching yours as he spoke. “I love you, too.”

You leaned forward to kiss him again, not wanting to spend another minute any further from him but suddenly you felt yourself getting worked up, you started to tear up and before you knew it a sob left your mouth. Javi was quick to move off you and pull you back up to vertical, his hands were cupping your face looking for something on your face to explain what was happening.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’m sorry.” He brought you into his embrace. You didn’t say anything else, just collapsed into his hug and sobbed against him as he rubbed his arms up and down your back.

“I’m sorry.” You finally spoke through your sobs. “I just missed you so much, I think I turned my brain off to it all and it’s kind of all just coming to me now.”

“I’m here, cariño, I’m here.” Those words were spoken at a murmur, but is mouth was next to your ear so you heard them loud and clear.

“God, what the fuck happened to us.” You shook your head as he pulled your face in front of him with his hands still framed around it.

“A lot of fuckin’ shit.” His eyebrows rasied and his eyes jumped back and forth on your eyes. You let out a laugh at that followed by a sniffle due to the crying.

The two of you talked on the couch for another hour before Javi stood up to leave. It was well into early morning hours now and he still had conferences to attend in the morning.

“I’m gonna be in New York for another week, at least. Maybe I can take you out?” You two were standing at the door, you felt your face a little swollen from crying, Javi’s eyes were low from exhaustion, you two looked like you’d been through the wringer but the question made you feel like the happiest person on earth.

“Yea, I’d like that.” And your answer made Javi feel the same. “Oh!” You turned and lightly jogged over to the coffee table to grab the engagement ring box off the table and bring it back to the door where Javi was standing on the other side, hand on the door handle. “Returning what I borrowed.” You smiled and extended it out for him to grab.

His gaze looked down at it and back up to your eyes, his eyebrows raised and that Javier smile grew on his face. “Keep it. I have a feeling one day you’ll want it again.”

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