#maybe I’ll gif it one day but there’s a moment where he’s joking and she laughs and he just sort of looses himself in her smile

[saetoru]

Tee 🥹 so RB Gojo always shows up to YNs house unexpectedly or wants her to come over. What if one day out of the blue, like 2 am she shows up at his house in tears due to stress. And for once he can be the caretaker and dependable one. And then she falls asleep in his arms arms and he gets to be the big spoon for once. I could see her whispering “you’re it for me too” while thinking he’s asleep.- dabitee anon

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。BEFORE & AFTER — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, stressed reader :(, comfort, cheesy banter lol i tried ok, slightly based off of this drabble

notes. dabitee anon. babie u are my biggest rb! gojo inspo u always think of the sweetest lil moments between them sobsss i adore you sm

sometimes, gojo forgets you're not always put together. sometimes, you struggle to get assignments finished, and sometimes you don't wake up for work on the first alarm, and sometimes studying is too much to handle no matter how determined you are for an A.

"thinking about me this late, sweetheart?" he grins as soon as he picks up your call, laying back on one arm as he stares at the ceiling. he doesn't expect to see you call at two am, but you do—and when he hears the short, wet sniffle through the phone, he doesn't waste a moment to sit up. "sweetheart? you good?"

"toru can you let me in?" you ask quietly. gojo feels every crack in your voice pierce into his chest—it's rare for you to need him like this. he thinks he's always needed you more than you've needed him, truthfully. you've always opened doors after he's stormed out on his father, you've always laced your fingers after arguments with suguru, and you've always rubbed his back when he's hunched over toilets after one too many drinks.

when was the last time you've let yourself need gojo? he doesn't have the time to even try and remember, his feet carrying him over to open his front door quietly. and it's you—you with teary eyes and puffy cheeks, you with tired dark circles and wobbly lips. it's you, but it's not the you he knows, the one he's used to.

the one good thing about gojo satoru is he always knows how to talk—he speaks enough for two, knows how to fill the silence when you can't bring yourself to speak. his arms tug you into his chest before you can open your mouth to explain.

"did you drive all the way here with those watery eyes?" he hums, "wanted to see me that bad? it's dangerous driving like that, baby."

"didn't wanna be alone," you mumble, sniffling into his chest. his hands are big—they're good for rubbing slow circles into your back, the warmth of his palm seeping in through your shirt and pressing against your skin.

"i'd have come if you texted me," he hums, "'m always up, anyway. you know i was beating suguru's ass in mortal combat? he owes me a burger."

"you can afford one yourself, idiot," you huff, making him chuckle. something about the low rumble of his chest against your cheek makes the tears flow a little faster—not because you feel worse, but because it's safe enough that you can.

sometimes, you forget gojo isn't that spoiled and whiny handful you love to call him. sometimes, you're reminded that he's used to being alone, that carrying emotions enough for two is his forte. your cheek presses harder against his chest, like you could bury yourself inside of him like that, like hiding away in his ribcage is where you're safest from the rest of the world. maybe it is—maybe all you need is him to make it safe.

"who's got my baby crying the night before an 8 am class?" he asks softly, “i’ll punch ‘em.”

“what if i say you, will you punch yourself?”

“for you, always,” he nods seriously.

he knows how to ask these things like that: like it's not heavy, like you can make a light-hearted joke or two so that you're not drowning in your own vulnerability. sometimes, you forget that gojo is no stranger to hiding his own vulnerability, that he knows how to hide it under a playful grin and a cheeky laugh.

"that group assignment's due soon and no one's done anything yet but me, and i had to pick up an extra shift to cover for someone, and that quiz coming up is apparently super hard, and my electricity bill was high this month and i don't know why, and....and—"

"okay," he hums, "the electricity might've been me," he says with a quiet chuckle, "i always forget to turn the lights off. I'll handle it, yeah?"

"but—"

"it's not paying for you," he cuts you off, "it's paying you back. there's a difference. now c'mon. i make good hot chocolate."

"it's out of a packet," you sniffle, lips curled into a pout as his thumb swipes away at your tears. he traces the swell of your cheek before pinching it lightly, making you huff.

"hey," he gasps, "it's special because i put extra chocolate in it! it's my secret ingredient."

"it's not a secret if it's the main ingredient, toru," you mumble, letting his fingers thread with yours as he tugs you along to follow him.

"do you just live to correct me?" he whines, "can't i have one thing?"

and when he hears that soft, breathy little giggle from you, he smiles to himself, the ache of his chest calming just a little. you think gojo could always do that if he tried—pull a small laugh or two out of you even if the world was crumbling around you, keep your lips curved up even as everything goes wrong.

he's enough to forget about that damn project, and that extra shift, and that absurd quiz, and that distressing bill. maybe it's in the way he makes the whipped cream look like a crooked heart in your mug, or the way he burns his tongue as he takes a sip too fast, or the way he swings your arm as he drags you to his room, or the way he wriggles his brows at you as he takes his shirt off before bed, or the way he presses that delicate, sweet, careful little kiss to your forehead as you lay on his chest.

because he has to be enough, he thinks as he holds you, he has to be good enough for you that he outweighs every bad thing you'll ever deal with. he wonders if you know you're it for him, if you know that no one else could fill the spot you've wormed your way into unknowingly. he realizes it that night you hold him, the same night you didn't scold him for ruining your sleep, the same night he finds his way to you when it feels like every road is blocked.

and when the roads are blocked you find your way to him too. so he lays quietly under your cheek, feeling your fingers trace those slow hearts into his skin as he hears you murmur, "i think you're it for me too, toru."

his brows furrow—and then he realizes you must have heard him that night, just like he's hearing you now. a small part of him wants to laugh at the odds, at the way you both can't bring yourselves to say it when you're sure you'll hear each other. the other part of him thinks maybe you were always supposed to find each other, that you were always meant to stay awake and hear hushed words that are supposed to be secrets.

but then you tilt your head up, meeting his eyes, like you know he's awake. oh, he realizes, you've always known, haven't you?

"oh yeah?" he asks, "what if someone cuter and funnier comes along?"

you giggle—not one trace of stress or fear or defeat on your features, not with him there. "i met suguru and still chose you," you tease, making his gasp in disbelief.

"that's so mean," he whines, "i made you hot chocolate with extra chocolate! you can't say my best friend is cuter. and for the record, i'm way funnier than him."

"i'm kidding," you grin, pinching his cheek. "i love you. thank you," you add quietly.

"love you too," he kisses your temple. sometimes, gojo forgets what it was like before you—and he doesn't really want to remember.

atp rich boy! gojo is just his own character to me sjfjsjfj i’ve just created a whole new dude in my head with the same irritating blue eyes

#teepods.writings #drabbles. #rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[munsster]

brain like a sieve

A/N: i am on a MAD ONE with the way im writing. she has motivation and inspiration and fingers of STEEL. (gif creds: @neblisi )

Pairings: Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Summary: Eddie’s on top of the world when you tell him you love him. So much so, in fact, that he forgets to say it back. 0.8k words

Warnings: established relationship, kissing, fluff, insecurity, obliviousness, pet names (bunny, bug, lovebug), ONE half swear word (i SWEAR it took so much self control, i dont know how i limited myself)

You’ve got this fiery look in your eye right before you say it that distracts him.

“I love you, Eddie.”

And your hair is wild and your hands are wound into the collar of his shirt and he can’t help but wonder what divine force of nature got him here. Made him so lucky.

And in the midst of everything: Eddie forgets to say it back.

He kisses you sweetly and holds you at the waist, drinking in the way you look at him and tug him closer. But he still doesn’t say it back. A minute passes, and everything settles and he thinks you’re beautiful and you love him, and he forgot to say it back.

You go home in a frenzy. Why didn’t he say it back? You can barely do your laundry without running the conversation over in your head. Did you do something wrong? You think you’ll wait a week, give it time, maybe he’ll call and say it. Maybe he’s still processing it. Does he not love you back? You end up waiting two days before calling him in the middle of the night.

“Okay! We can talk, lovebug. Why don’t you come over tomorrow night? I’ll order takeout.”

You can hear Eddie’s smile through the phone, completely unfazed by the ungodly hour and by the confusion and hurt in your voice. Your eyes go wide, and you slowly nod.

“Yeah… that works,” you say.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

But you’re still confused. He spoke and smiled like nothing was the matter. Like you hadn’t been down on your knees with devoted confession for him. Maybe he just didn’t hear you. Except you know he heard you because you said it in the rest between laughter and conversation and the way he gave you a soft smile meant he had to have heard you.

“I brought cupcakes.” You stand on his porch steps, shivering from the cold, wind licking your face and threatening to blow you off your feet. Eddie grins and takes the plate from you, grabbing your hand and leading you to the kitchen. He sets the soft yellow platter down beside the bags of takeout and whips around to leer at you like a big cat.

“Hi, bunny,” he whispers. And you’re already flustered.

Eddie smiles because he knows and plants one on you like you’ve never kissed before. Like it hasn’t been his favorite pastime the entire time he’s known you. Despite how stone-faced you told yourself you’d be, you crumple into temptation and whine when he pulls away.

Moments later, you’re both perched on his bed, facing each other while he’s smiling and poking at your knee.

“So…” Eddie says, batting his lashes.

“So?”

“Well, you said you wanted to talk—”

“Oh”—you press a hand to your face and take a deep breath—“I know, I’m just… okay… d’you remember the other day? We were cracking jokes on your bed and messing around in general and…”

“Yeah, I remember.” He inches ever closer, tugging at the sleeve of your coat like a needy cat. Because you don’t know how distracted he had gotten all while thinking about how pretty you looked. How pretty your laugh is and how he doesn’t know where he’d be if he didn’t have you.

“And then I said…”—you sigh—“I mean, I told you I love you, and you didn’t… say anything—”

And as if all of the blood had been drained from his face, he goes ghost-pale in embarrassment. He feels nauseous and panicked.

“Oh my God! Bug! I love you, I love you, I do, I’m—oh my God, I got completely distracted, I’m mortified, I swear, I—”

You feel relief, yet your voice is still small when you ask:

“Distracted? Distracted by what…?”

“Well”—and it makes him shy owning up to his conscience like this—“you were laughin’ so hard and… and then I snorted which made you laugh even harder and I was thinking… ‘bout how beautiful you looked smiling so wide, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. And you said you loved me and I was on cloud nine. You were grabbing me and you looked like you could cry from laughing and I wanted to kiss you and I love you. And I’m sorry I got distracted.”

Your jaw unclenches and you sit there for a second, blinking at him in disbelief and yet complete understanding.

Then you tackle him, pin him to the bed with a yelp. And once he’s done wriggling, he’s scared for his life with how furious you look pressing him down like this.

“Eddie Munson!”

“Don’t be mad at me, please! Because I love you—”

“Shut up,” you say, grinning when he cups your face and swipes his thumb across your cheek.

“I do. I lo—”

“Shh, precious few words, Eddie.”

“Too bad, that sucks, I’m completely in love with you,” he huffs, “Now say it back.”

You grin and you look like you could bite a chunk out of him right about now. And he’s pretty sure he prefers it that way when you say:

“…I love you.”

“Damn right.”

masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #drabble #fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #established relationship #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #x fem!reader #x gn!reader

[suashii]

— 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎, 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 ౨ৎ

suna rintaro x reader. 1.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ suna and reader are roommates ﾉ jealousy ofc :3 ﾉ + atsumu appearance !

moving in with suna was a bad idea.

he’s not a bad roommate. sure, he takes extra long showers and uses up all the hot water at least once a week and you’ve had to remind him to wash his dishes every now and then, but he’s not a bad roommate.

your frustration that comes with being suna’s roommate has less to do with him and more to do with the feelings you’ve been hellbent on keeping a secret ever since they became known to you a few weeks ago.

that much is getting harder these days with midterms being upon you. there’s been a girl over the apartment—some chick suna was paired with to work on a presentation. that fact alone doesn’t bother you; suna was kind enough to ask before inviting her over. she’s where your problem lies.

she’s shameless, really. always laughs a little too loud at jokes that aren’t that funny and always sits a little too close to suna when you’re positive the coffee table they’re working at isn’t that small. and the worst part is that suna is oblivious to it all.

even now he’s blissfully ignorant of the way she’s not so discreetly flirting with him. she’s supposed to be packing up to leave but, like she’s had some sort of life-changing revelation, she stops in her tracks and turns to suna, placing a hand on his shoulder. “you have a volleyball game this week, right?”

from the kitchen counter, you roll your eyes and stuff another spoonful of rice into your mouth. you wouldn’t normally eat in the kitchen while she was here but one too many spills by your laptop and the inevitable crumbs left in your bed have kept you from taking your meals back to your room. you’re starting to think a sticky keyboard or the unpleasant feel of tiny pieces of food against your skin would be preferable to whatever you’re about to witness.

suna nods and she pulls her hand away to clap. “perfect! i’ll be there to cheer you on!”

her exaggerated excitement causes you to snort, earning the attention of both of them. there’s a curious expression on suna’s face but the girl is all but staring daggers at you like you popped her bubble of joy and ruined the moment. you’re tempted to laugh.

“sorry, saw something funny on my phone,” you lie, shooting the two of them a smile before turning around to wash your dishes.

you dawdle at the sink until you hear the front door close. suna appears as you’re drying your hands and you spare him a glance, wondering if he’ll bring up your strange behavior. part of you hopes he does—maybe then you could open his eyes, finally make him privy to that girl’s blatant attraction to him.

he doesn’t question it, though. instead, he asks, “can i see what you were laughing at?”

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

“you don’t get it, ‘tsumu, she’s actually the worst,” you tell him, dramatically dropping your head on his shoulder.

“why don’t you just leave when you know she’s coming over?”

your eyes cut over to atsumu, an unsavory frown tugging at your lips due to his outrageous suggestion. you can’t believe your best friend would side with her. “why should i? i’m the one who lives here.”

“because, clearly, it’s bothering you.” he isn’t the least bit apologetic for his outlandish recommendation. “look, it’s either that or you come out and tell suna that you like him. i’m tired of hearing you bitch and moan every time i’m here. we’re supposed to be watching them do that.” atsumu points to the screen of your laptop that’s playing some trashy reality show the two of you are hooked on.

you click your tongue at his blunt response, lifting your head from his shoulder. maybe he’s right—complaining won’t get you anywhere, but you’re too proud to tell him so. “hey. this is the thanks i get for putting up with your relationship problems? you ungrateful brat.”

you flick his forehead which elicits a shocked gasp from the blonde. a victorious grin is in the process of making its way to your lips when the plush of one of the many stuffed animals you keep in your room hits your cheek. your jaw drops in surprise at atsumu’s courageous counter.

“i’m going to kill you.”

you aren’t usually one for using your precious plushies as a weapon but any one within your reach is promptly launched at the setter. he dodges some and is whacked by others, all while theatrically screeching for you to stop. you’ve still got some steam left by the time you run out of ammunition and atsumu can tell. he reaches out, taking your wrists in his hands to prevent you from doing anything.

“wait, i’m sorry,” he breathes out, strands of messy hair falling in front of his face. “truce?”

you’re considering whether or not you want to take him up on his offer when your door swings open. suna’s on the other side.

his eyes scan the room, taking in the mess of colorful stuffed animals strewn across the space before they land on you. not you, but the way atsumu’s holding you. something about it makes his jaw tighten.

“hey.” your voice, breathier than usual, convinces suna to meet your eye. “what’s up?”

the scene he walked in on almost made him forget why he’d come by in the first place. “i’m ordering food. do you want anything?”

you hum in contemplation and then smile. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

he nods, readying to close the door. “i’ll call you when it’s here.”

the click of the door shutting sounds over the indiscernible voices coming from your laptop. taking your hands back from atsumu, you straighten out your clothes as thoughts of suna cross your mind. he usually finds any way to make a conversation drag, lingering in your doorway even when you’ve told him to leave so you can go to sleep.

you’re about to ask atsumu if he caught on to his friend’s abnormal lack of words, but he’s got another idea.

“yeah, thanks, i don’t want anything,” atsumu shouts at the closed door.

forty minutes pass before the episode ends and atsumu takes his leave. you see him out, planning your next viewing party as he puts on his shoes. he whispers something about settling shit with suna before then so he isn’t subject to your fussing the next time he comes around and darts down the hall before your fist can meet his shoulder.

you make a mental note to get back at him when you see him tomorrow as you shut the door and spin on the ball of your foot. from the foyer, you can see suna situated at the coffee table. there are plastic delivery bags on the surface and he seems to have already started eating from his portion.

“what happened to letting me know when the food was here?” you ask, shuffling over to his figure and plopping down on the floor beside him.

through a mouthful of noodles, he replies, “i didn’t want to interrupt.”

you almost scold him for talking with food in his mouth but then his words register. your eyebrows furrow as you split your wooden chopsticks. “interrupt what, exactly?”

it’s petty, he knows, but he can’t ignore the feeling that’s been gnawing at him since he saw atsumu touching you so comfortably. it’s like the image is seared into his eyelids and he’s forced to see it every time he blinks.

“i don’t know.” he flicks a mushroom with his utensil. “just seemed like you two were in the middle of something when i walked in.”

you hum, not paying much mind to his words as you pick up the stir-fry with your chopsticks. the noodles hang right in front of your lips when you respond, “i guess we kind of were.”

suna frowns at your answer. he wanted to hear you say it was nothing so he could kick himself for being so unreasonably bent out of shape. instead, your reply fuels him to ask the question he’d been wondering about for nearly the past hour. “are you and atsumu together?”

“what?” you sputter around your noodles. you want to tell him no but, unlike suna, you aren’t one for talking with your mouth full. your silence, however, only leads suna to keep going.

“i don’t care if you are but you should have told me so i wouldn’t just barge in on-”

“i’m not dating atsumu,” you finally reveal after swallowing your food. you’re not sure what possesses you to say the next part—perhaps you feel the need to really drive your point home—but it comes out speedily. “i like you.”

quiet blankets the room following your declaration. the two of you stare at each other with parted lips, suna’s eyes slightly widened in surprise. his lack of a response makes your heart beat heavily against your chest. it’s loud in your ears and you wonder if he can hear it too.

you breathe out an awkward laugh after a couple more seconds of silence. “look-”

“i like you, too,” suna admits.

“jeez, suna, you should have just said that!” you slap his shoulder, cheeks warming in belated embarrassment. “i thought i was going to have to move out because of one-sided feelings.”

“sorry.” he chuckles, rubbing the spot you had just hit. it didn’t hurt, but it felt different than the ones he had been met with in the past. he could get used to the tingles you leave behind on his skin. “i had to let it set in.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x you #haikyuu x you #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles

[court-of-starss]

Stars of Heartbreak

Pairing: Rhysand x reader

Summary: He was the stars, the twinkling lights that gave hope to the dreamers who spent their nights bewitched by the hope.

Warnings: just a whole lot of angst.

a/n: This is my first time posting my writing so hopefully it's not too disappointing lmaoo. Would also like to clarify that I am the biggest Feysand simp. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

He was the stars, the twinkling lights that gave hope to the dreamers who spent their nights bewitched by the hope. He was the cool soft caress of the night sky, soft touches and nights spent in soft embraces.

That’s where you were now, staring out into the night sky, standing atop the highest balcony in the Night court, his court. One he ruled with the curse breaker, the beautiful human now fae Archeron sister. Feyre wasn’t your enemy; she was the saving grace to all that knew her. She was noble, brave and beautiful. The things you weren’t. At least not anymore.

Not to Rhysand.

Not anymore.

He was not the male who promised you the very stars you were grieving too now. He was not the love that swept you in its warm embrace, nor was he the face that you woke up to every morning. Not since he had found the female that was his mate. Mate. It’s laughable now, you had always hoped, prayed, that it would snap between the two of you. Between every kiss, every smile, every soft touch. You had hoped and hoped until it had consumed you.

But you were not Feyre Archeron.

You were not the fearless human girl who freed him from the terror of Amarantha and her wicked court. You were not the newly made fae who showed him happiness again. You tried. Every nightmare, every terror induced moment after being freed you were by his side. Holding him, reminding him that he was home, safe finally. You were there to help him regain his control of himself, to regain control of his court.

But you weren’t enough, perhaps you never were.

“You’re going to fall over the railing with all that thinking.” His voice always was a calm whisper, a soft caress of night that made all the hairs on your body stand at his command. Whether it was a whisper or a yell, it always has the same affect.

“Maybe.” You said softly to the night sky, the sight too beautiful to look away from. You didn’t want to turn and face him, to face those hypnotizing violet eyes that would always be able to see right through you. But he didn’t mind, he knew it was hard for you to adjust after centuries of whirlwind romance.

“I’ll catch you.” He muttered, soft steps stopping beside you to lean against the same railing. But he wasn’t looking at the night sky, he was reading your face. Noting the lack of sleep evident by the dark bags under your cold eyes.

Cold eyes that used to shine for him, that used to twinkle in amusement when Cassian would laugh at your dumb jokes, jokes that only the two of you understood. Eyes that used to scrunch in concentration when you would massage the cramps out of Azriels hands on the colder days. Eyes that used to scrunch in happiness when you would paint your nails with Mor, the colors different every week depending on the last place his cousin had returned from.

Eyes that used to be full of hope and love, now dull and cold like the rest of you. Because of him.

“I’ll always catch you.” He whispered, a pang going through his chest at the down turn of your lips.

“Rhys.” You warned, scrunching your eyebrows. His name was always your favorite word. You had said it in so many ways, but now it left a sour taste on your tongue.

“You’re killing me.” He moved, his arm gently brushing yours in a warm gentle touch. A touch you would have leaned in to, drawn to every part of him like a moth to a flame. But now? Now you took a step back, breaking your gaze from the stars above to the stars in his eyes.

“Don’t.” You warned again, your arms moving to wrap around yourself. To protect yourself from the broken shell of a heart in your chest that only ever beat for him.

Rhys took a step towards you again, halting in his spot when you took another away from him. He wished he could save you from the pain he had caused, save you from him. A gentle tug on the golden strand in his chest had him turning his gaze to his mate who was watching them from the couch where the rest of his family was. They were all laughing, drinking and soaking in the feel of each other after years of war.

Feyre’s worry radiated through the bond, worry for the female that had sacrificed her own heart for theirs. You watched them in their silent conversation, taking two more steps away from him.

“It’s okay Rhysand, your family is waiting for you.” You said softly, not turning to look into the warmth of the living room. Knowing that if you looked at the family that was once yours, that you would break completely.

Rhys’ gaze snapped back to yours, desperation leaking through the stars swirling in his violet eyes. He swallowed roughly and held out his hand. His hand was wobbling in way you hadn’t witnessed since he returned from the mountain he was held captive. Guilt shot through you, not wanting to cause him any distress, even now.  

“They’re your family too. I’m your family.” He begged, steadying his hand. You shook your head with a soft sad smile and took another step back towards the door behind you, the shadowsinger emerging from the shadows ready to help you depart. Violet eyes snapped to the steady Hazel ones of his brother, confusion and panic flooding him.

“No, you can’t leave.” He always was the smartest in the room, quick to put together the plans of others. And as he watched you accept the cloak from his brother, he felt the panic slid up his throat, felt it fill his eyes with tears he didn’t deserve to shed. Azriel took a step out of the shadows and cleared his throat, gently taking your arm to lead you to the railing once more, his body a strong wall of muscle between you and his brother.

“It’s her choice Rhys.” He said, his tone steady and strong. You were his sister, as much as Rhys was his brother. You slid the hood of the cloak over your head and leaned around Azriel to meet his Violet gaze once more, for the last time.

“I wish nothing but happiness for you Rhys. I will always love you, but that is the reason that I can’t stay here.” You said with a tear-filled smile, taking Azriels hand as he lifted you into his arms, his mighty wings spreading ready to leap into flight.

Rhys watched with tear-soaked cheeks as he watched you fly off into the horizon in his brothers’ arms, overwhelming heartbreak racing through him.

But nothing could prepare him for the sight of his brother returning empty handed, shooting him a pity filled look as he knelt down to hold his weeping brother. Your soft scent clinging to his shadows in a faint caress of what used to be.

#acotar series #feysand #acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand fanfic #emmie writes #night court

[ham1lton]

summer came like cinnamon (so sweet)

pairing(s): logan sargeant x reader. oscar piastri x reader.

warnings: mentions of mental health, dieting, fractured friendships and constant mention of jim’s ice cream parlour. also different povs, it goes through the minds of all three of the main characters.

summary: after their rookie season, in a bid to repair their friendship, the two drivers decide to take their new paycheques and go explore the sun, sea and sands of greece. what they didn’t anticipate was to bump into you.

wordcount: 5.6k

author’s note: this is my first semi-interactive fic, please give it some love <3 any major issues in travelling and stuff like in terms of logistics? please ignore. also let me know who you’re planning on choosing. team oscar or team logan?

— wanna be updated on the next parts? join my taglist! —

— part one of the summer lovin’ series. —

[ i ain’t a kid no more / we’ll never be those kids again ]

logan didn’t know why he was so overwhelmed with anxiety, when he knocked on oscar’s door on that rainy thursday night.

this was his oscar, the oscar that had practically grown up with him. the one who knew how he liked his toast and that he was fond of a burger with all the extras. that he had a scar on his left ankle from when he was a kid and wrestled with his brother after watching too much wwe.

ever since he had signed to williams and oscar had been a mclaren driver, they had hardly talked in comparison to their pre-formula one days. when he had crashed out during a race, he half expected oscar to text him or come knocking on his hotel door.

he didn’t. logan pretended he wasn’t surprised.

fuck it. bite the bullet. he lifted his hand high and knocked on the door. three quick taps in succession.

“one moment!” oscar called from inside. logan would wait, even if that old lady from room 135 kept looking at him like he was an intruder. maybe he was. he hadn’t been in oscar’s room for a while.

oscar opened the door with messy hair and a shirt that had been clearly shoved on before he opened the door.

“logan? hi.” oscar swallowed. the awkwardness in the space between the two of them felt heavy. “you okay mate?”

“yeah! yeah.” logan fake laughed, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. “just wanted to come see you.”

“i’m here.” oscar grinned, with no teeth, at his own joke. “wanna come in?”

“sure. kinda awkward talking in the hallway anyways. that old lady is about five minutes from calling the cops on me.”

“oh that’s just brenda.” oscar said after leaning out and getting a glance at the woman, who waved at him. he waved back. “she’s harmless.”

logan followed oscar into his room. it was bigger than his and he didn’t know if feeling jealous was appropriate. he had felt many emotions when it came to oscar; happy, sad, angry, and others. he didn’t want jealousy to join the list.

“sorry, my room is a mess. i wasn’t expecting company.” oscar laughed with no heart behind it as he sat down on his unmade bed. “take a seat logan, you’re giving me anxiety just standing around.”

logan immediately sits down on the desk chair.

“so, what are your plans for the summer?”

“mine?” oscar thinks to himself. “probably just to go see my family and my friends back home.”

“i was thinking maybe we could, i don’t know.” logan bites his lip anxiously. “do something together?”

“like what?” oscar is curious now, his eyes focused.

“maybe go on that european holiday we always talked about? we have the money now and no parents to tell us no like last time.” logan speaks in a rush. “but obviously if you say no, dude that’s totally fine.”

logan looks at oscar, who’s actually considering it? he thinks to himself for a moment before turning to logan.

“how many days?”

“as long as you’d like.”

“where would we go?”

“anywhere you’d want.”

“make a decision, logan. i’ll say yes or no.”

“we always wanted to go to greece? how about there? maybe for three weeks?”

“we should go for a month. we can travel.”

wait. so that means? oscar’s face is still impassive. he doesn’t say yes or no, but he is still considering it. that’s a positive.

“that’s fine. i’m flexible.”

“i’ll plan it.” oscar nods.

“so is that a yes?”

“obviously.” oscar finally smiles, open and dazzling. logan grins too, allowing himself to bask in the approval. he was almost 67% sure that oscar would say no. he’d already done the maths, but it wasn’t his strongest subject anyways.

“i’ll text you the details.” oscar nods and logan gets up, running a hand through his hair. giddy with happiness that he’ll finally win his best friend back. this’ll be the trip that heals them. that heals him.

-❀-

oscar gets stressed when he’s not in charge. everything has to go through him. the plans, the schedule and especially the driving. he’s never liked being in the passenger seat. his hands get fidgety and he doesn’t know how to calm them down.

he’s lucky that logan is all too happy to sit in it, his eyes focused on making the perfect road trip playlist. for some reason, they’d decided to drive from london all the way down to munich.

they’d already driven down from london and through the eurotunnel and took a break sightseeing in france - which oscar had already scheduled for. they ate their weight in croissants. they ate steak and frites. logan had bought them matching ‘i ♥︎ paris’ t-shirts and oscar rolled his eyes but packed it neatly in his suitcase anyways.

they hadn’t talked about anything other than surface level topics. logan talking about his favourite sports teams, them both discussing the grid and plans for the upcoming season and the usual small talk about their family’s wellbeings.

they didn’t talk about how they ignored each other unless a camera necessitated a conversation. they didn’t talk about logan’s bad season. they stayed up till stupid hours watching badly dubbed french movies and ordering takeout.

they drove to germany, dropped off their rental car and then got a plane from munich to athens. it wasn’t very long at all but logan still curled up against the window and tried to sleep. they were both connected to the spotify account on logan’s phone - logan using his headphones and oscar with his airpods. their road trip playlist still playing.

oscar didn’t know why he didn’t take them out, even when the playlist inevitably repeated itself.

-❀-

they’d been in athens all of two days when they met you. logan had gone an insanely bright red when he’d forgotten his sunscreen had ran out. oscar laughed at first but then ran to the nearest pharmacy to grab emergency sunscreen and aloe vera for the both of them.

after slathering themselves, they’d decided to seek refuge in a small ice cream store. despite the hot weather, the store was almost completely empty besides the two of them and you. you were fiddling with your phone in the corner as you attempted to hook it up to the speakers.

“fuck’s sake!” you shout quietly, frustratingly trying to make it work. “i can’t do this shift without any music. my thoughts’ll drive me insane.”

“um?” oscar breaks the awkward silence. you jump and turn around. the first thing that they both notice is that you’re pretty. really pretty. even in the unflattering oversized neon green work t-shirt.

“sorry! sorry! i apologise. i didn’t think anyone was in the shop. please forgive me.” you look flustered as you move to quickly wash your hands and dry them. “what would you both like today?”

to be honest, logan hadn’t been thinking about the ice cream. oscar didn’t need to think, he was going to get his usual order.

“can i get two scoops of mint chocolate chip?”

“oh that’s disgusting. i forgot that you eat that.” logan shakes his head in shock.

“it’s good. you’re just a hater.” oscar rolls his eyes. “stick to your boring vanilla.”

“it’s a classic!” logan turns to you and asks for two scoops of vanilla and one scoop of mango. you smile and begin to start their orders.

“you guys aren’t from around here, are you?” you ask.

“nah. the accents give it away?” logan laughs as he slings an arm around oscar’s shoulder. oscar rolls his eyes again but makes no move to push him away.

“yeah. a little bit.” you pinch your fingers together as you say it. “i’m not really from here either.”

“no?” oscar replies this time, curious.

“international student. this was one of the few places that’d hire me with my insane schedule. i’m lucky i have the next month off, thankfully.”

“aren’t you going back home?”

“i could if i wasn’t scheduled to work here practically every day for the next month.” you finish logan’s order and move on to oscar’s. you shrug. “and i need the money. the job could be worse really, i just wish the speaker fucking worked and the air conditioning. luckily i stand close to the ice cream.”

“what do you study?”

“archaeology.”

“best place for that is probably here.”

“yes. i don’t know why but ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to come to greece and study here. this is the less glamorous side of it but i’m here doing what i love.”

“that’s all that matters right?” logan chimes in. you nod as you scan their orders into your till.

“that’ll be €7.62.” you say. “cash or card?”

“cash.” oscar says as he pulls out his wallet. he’s infinitely glad he’d prepared and went to the cash exchange in london before he’d left. logan doesn’t even bother to offer, he picks up his ice cream and starts to eat it.

oscar hands you the cash as logan moves to a booth right by the open door to take advantage of the breeze. you count back the change and place it right in his hand. his heart doubles a beat as your hands touch for a moment but the moment is broken as your phone suddenly decides that now is the time to work.

the speakers start blaring natasha bedingfield’s ‘pocketful of sunshine’. you curse, close the till with your hip and turn to fiddle with the playlist.

oscar thinks he’s a little in love.

-❀-

logan knows that oscar likes you, which is a problem because he likes you too.

this road trip was supposed to be about finding themselves, not finding you. yet, when they find themselves back in your ice cream store the next few days, it’s no coincidence.

“you’re back again! the american and australian.” on day four, you’re not alone this time. you have a colleague, a girl who’s slightly older than you. she smirks at the two of them like she knows a secret they don’t know. “i’m not the only international one here!”

the speakers seem to work normally today, playing elton john as you hum along with it. your colleague decides that it’s time to take her lunch break, slipping off her apron and leaving the three of you to it.

“same thing as every day? or are we changing it up?”

“what do you recommend?” logan asks earnestly. he’s not losing oscar to you, maybe if he charms you enough, you’ll pick him. he doubts you will.

“everything is good here but if you really want my opinion? the chocolate fudge is a real crowd pleaser.”

“i’ll take two scoops of that and oscar’ll just have mint chocolate.” logan pulls out his wallet, opens it to find a mix of euros in there. he takes a moment to pick at the right change when you shake your head at him.

“no, it’s fine. it’s on the house today. i’m in a good mood.”

“why?”

“a lot of reasons. you know what? i forgot that i didn’t even introduce myself. i’m y/n.”

“we know.” oscar is amused.

“how? are you psychic? i used to know a psychic once and i also watched that’s so raven. great show.”

“your name badge.” logan nods at your shirt as he eats a spoonful of ice cream. you were right, it’s amazing. not too sickly but just the right amount of chocolate.

“oh.” you bite your lip in embarrassment as oscar takes his ice cream.

“i’m oscar and the american is logan.” logan smiles and waves his free hand at you. “is the shop always this empty?”

“no. it’s really busy after school and at peak times. you just always come quite early. lucky. it’s hell in here when it’s busy.” you seem relieved for the topic change. “you both here on holiday?”

“yeah. a break from our jobs.”

“lucky. my best friend is back home and i wish she was with me. she’s planning on coming up at some point thankfully. i hate being here without all my friends.”

“i can be your friend.” logan says. then he immediately regrets it. what if you think that he’s a weirdo? but when your face lights up, he realises that regret was a fleeting feeling.

“i’d love that. let me take your number. one of the guys from my class is hosting a beach party tonight if you both wanna come.”

logan looks at oscar who shrugs as if to say ‘i don’t mind if you don’t’. logan turns back to you, who is the middle of unlocking your phone and grins.

“we’ll be there.”

he types his number in your phone and sends a message to himself to save yours.

“i’ll text you the details.”

the speaker interrupts the moment that you have as it starts to malfunction. you curse again and throw your hands up in annoyance.

“stupid fucking speaker! so stupid!”

-❀-

the party is already well underway, when oscar and logan arrive. logan didn’t bother with buttoning up his shirt. he wasn’t necessarily the most confident man in the world but he was comfortable with his nakedness in a way that oscar didn’t think he’d ever be. oscar was in a undershirt with a loose overshirt.

you finally make your way over to them, panting slightly. you’re wearing a plain white bikini with an open oversized orange and yellow patterned hawaiian shirt. your hair is free from the bun they’ve seen you in work with. you smile, easy and happy.

“my two favourite customers!” you sling an arm around the two of them, hugging them so close that they can smell your perfume. “come on, let me introduce you to the five other people i know.”

you lead them down to the bonfire, where three girls and two other guys are crowded around. they cheer when you arrive with the two of them.

“guys, this is oscar and logan.” they wave politely. “oscar and logan, this is anya, jerome, alex, sienna and jaya.”

the group all cheer and welcome the two guys. it’s clear that everyone is already buzzed. oscar has never really been a big drinker so he declines a beer when offered. logan shotguns it, the residue dripping down his face. you laugh and attempt to wipe it off his face. logan goes lax in your touch and oscar can’t watch anymore.

the speaker that someone played is playing shakira as the two of you giggle in your own little world. oscar turns to jerome? or was it alex? and starts a conversation. talking about some footy game that they were watching earlier. oscar is about as into football as the next guy, but he really needs to focus on something else besides the two of you.

oscar knew that logan had always harboured some sort of inferiority complex when it came to the two of them, but logan had something that oscar doesn’t think he’d ever have - being genuinely likeable.

oscar knew he’d have to win because no one would support him as a loser. logan is just likeable regardless of what position he’s in - an underdog if he loses and a force of nature when he wins.

likeable gets the girl.

-❀-

you decide to walk the two of them to the end of the beach. the night is inky black and the only light is the remnants of the bonfire you’d lit earlier. logan is buzzed, oscar is distant and you’re still vibrating from the fact that logan made the two of you run into the cold water with him in the middle of the night.

“tonight was fun! i’m glad you were both able to make it!” you lean in and hug them both goodbye. logan swears you’d lingered a little longer while hugging him. “i’ll see you both at jim’s ice cream?”

“what is that?” logan asks bluntly. oscar elbows him lightly, not hard enough to cause damage but just enough to wind him slightly.

“the ice cream parlour she works at dumbass.” he turns to you. “we’ll see you there”

“well, i do work there. so yeah.” you laugh. all twinkly and bright. then you’re waving and jogging back to your friends. oscar watches logan look at you and sighs.

“come on man, let’s get you back.”

-❀-

logan wakes up with a hangover the next morning. oscar is a good friend and runs to the continental free breakfast and sneaks him out some waffles, croissants and eggs. he walks to the pharmacy again, paying for some ibuprofen (at least he hopes that’s what it is) with his cash and runs to the corner store to grab some extra snacks.

logan’s eyes are wide with both joy and disbelief. joy that something is there for his splitting headache and disbelief that oscar would do that for him. oscar feels a little ball of guilt unravelling inside. how bad had he let their friendship become?

they spend the day inside for the most part. watching television together. then they go outside to the pool, logan immediately jumps in but oscar sits on the side. he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the texts that he’s been ignoring. the ones from some friends, his mum, and you?

it’s not a coincidence right? that you spent the whole evening with logan and text him the next day?

he holds the phone close to his chest. he doesn’t want logan seeing this. he doesn’t know why that is. he quickly texts you back. then logan shouts.

“hey oscar! come in! the water is gorgeous.”

oscar grins and slips into the water, keeping his shirt on.

-❀-

the two of them end up at the steak restaurant together that night. they’re both dressed as nicely as possible. oscar in a nice sweater and logan in a dress shirt. the maître d’ smiled knowingly at the two of them and led them to their table.

“he thinks we’re together.” oscar whispers to logan.

“are we not?”

“we are in the literal sense. i meant in the romantic, relationship sort of sense.” logan laughs and bats his eyelashes all coy.

“oh no! oscar are you breaking up with me?”

“obviously. i’m leaving you for my secretary.” oscar’s deadpan voice just makes logan laugh harder.

“i knew it, that skank! i’ll get him fired.” oscar laughs too, breaking out into an easy smile that comes easily when logan’s around.

the sounds of the restaurant move around the two of them as they peruse the menu for a long time. it’s been a while with no conversation when oscar bites the bullet and brings it up.

“hey.” logan looks up. “i’m sorry.”

“for the secretary? don’t be. i’m running away with the pool boy.” oscar shakes his head, smiling.

“no.” oscar says. “for what happened. letting our friendship fall to the sidelines. i didn’t mean it but it didn’t excuse it. i really do like being your friend logan. i wouldn’t jeopardise that.”

logan is silent. oscar wonders if he’s crossed some unspoken line. he bites the inside of his cheek and looks at the wall of the restaurant’s decor. it’s all dark in here. would it kill them to buy some light bulbs? he understands its for ‘ambiance’ and that shit but he’s worried that he won’t be able to find his steak in the darkness.

“i was gonna say i was sorry. i thought it was my fault. that you didn’t want to be friends with,” he cuts himself off, laughing awkwardly. “a loser.”

“no. that wasn’t it. you’re not a loser, not to me.”

“i am. that’s a fact. it’s okay. you’re very nice for that but, it’s just not true.” logan swallows thickly. “now, should i get potatoes or fries as my sides?”

oscar doesn’t comment on logan’s facial expression, that he looks like he’s holding it together by a thread. he knew emotional vulnerability took a lot out of him but it was harder on the person who admitted failure.

“potatoes.” logan grins and nods before calling over the waiter.

-❀-

the next time you saw the two guys was two days after the bonfire party. they came in laughing at a joke that had happened way before they had even walked in. you find yourself standing up as soon as they enter.

“hi! y/n!” logan’s smile is always wide and happy to see you. oscar’s smile is muted but it’s still sweet. “what would you recommend for me? i liked the chocolate fudge.”

“hmm,” you think, running your hand along the counter. “we have a new flavour, chocolate covered raspberry? it’s quite popular. i think you’d like it.”

“i trust your judgement, ice cream girl.”

you crack a smile at the nickname, the smile so big that it momentarily hurts your face for a moment. you turn to oscar.

“and what about you?”

“same as usual, two scoops of vanilla.”

you nod, getting to work on the ice creams. you even offer to pay for them but they argue, threatening to shove it all in the tip jar anyway. oscar pays and when your back is turned, logan shoves twice the amount into the tip jar.

“wanna sit with us in the booth today y/n?” logan asks, taking a spoonful of his ice cream. “it’s not like anyones here.”

oscar looks up at you with his wide eyes, not really eating his ice cream. he just swirls it, until it turns into a sort of thick soup. you shrug and slide into the booth across from the two of them. you don’t have anything else to do and if a customer does decide to walk in? well, you’ll just slide back behind the counter.

“so, what’s your plan for the future?” logan grins. “and i know it’s the worst possible question to ask any young person but i’m curious. what’s the goal? is there one? it’s okay if there isn’t.”

“dream is to become an archeologist and backup plan? i don’t know. work in an office or something? maybe teaching. i haven’t thought that far ahead just yet.” you bite your lip and look out the window for a second. the day is hot, and you’re stuck inside. “what about you two? what do you do?”

“we uh, we drive.” logan looks at oscar.

“oh like uber? cool.”

“yeah, isn’t it?” oscar smiles at you.

“i still haven’t gotten my licence just yet. taxis aren’t too expensive and public transport is decent. also everywhere i need to be is pretty much walkable.” you smile at them. “have you visited all the touristy places yet?”

“not everywhere but we’re here for a while. we’re going to travel to santorini, mykonos and corfu. i’ve already planned them out.” oscar swallows his bite of ice cream. “scheduled to the exact moment we get there and get back.”

“an exotic european vacation.” you grin, waggling your eyebrows. logan laughs despite the joke not being very funny. “i’m jealous.”

“you could come with us.” oscar blurts out, his cheeks pinkening. “you’re probably busy though right? don’t worry about it. it’s weird.”

“no, no. it’s not. it’s very sweet and tempting.” you look outside the window again. “i’m not free for the whole time, but, definitely i could join you for a week? jim won’t care.”

“jim’s a real person?” logan asks, eyes wide. you laugh.

“yeah! he’s british actually. came over here when he retired and bought this place. he was one of the few people that’d hire me. my mum’s british.” you nod. “it’s a pretty decent job. if you ignore these hideous uniforms.”

you pull on the neon jim’s ice cream parlour shirt, face crumpling in disgust.

“you look good.” logan says, shyly, as he tongues the last of his ice cream. “this is good too. the ice cream. i knew i trusted you for a reason.”

-❀-

santorini is exactly like the instagram photos. well, despite being slightly too hot, a little less vibrant and he’s here with you and logan. logan has kept his shirt on this time, a loose linen blue one with a pair of shorts and flip flops. you’re dressed in a white skirt, a cropped tank top with a massive handbag.

oscar wants to do something crazy, like reach out and hold your hand or put his arm around your shoulders. he doesn’t because he’s not insane but he thinks about it for a solid moment. thinks about the way you’d curl into him or the way your shampoo would smell. he shakes his head.

“you don’t like it?” the two of you turn to look at him. fantastic. now he looks weird. his eyes widen.

“no, no! i love it. it’s lovely.” he reaches into his pocket, shaking hands grabbing his phone as he takes a picture. “i was thinking about the best angle to take this picture for my mum.”

“i’ll take a photo of you against the backdrop? maybe the both of you. your mum might like that. logan said you two were childhood best friends right?”

oscar nods. at least you bought his story. he stands against the barrier and smiles, awkwardly. he’s sure that all the other tourists are looking at him and thinking ‘what a weirdo, his crush on her is so obvious. she wants his best friend clearly, why even try?’

after a moment, logan stands next to him. logan dissipates the awkwardness with a wave of his hand and the two of them fall into an easy grin. when logan leans in and tells a joke, oscar finds himself laughing loudly with the click of your camera as background noise.

he sends it to his mother later on, when he’s in his hotel room with logan snoring in the room across from him. she texts him back quickly.

-❀-

— from mum.

well, it looks like you’re having fun honey!

— to mum.

yeah, i am.

-❀-

it doesn’t even feel like a lie when he messages her back in the cooling heat.

-❀-

it’s three days into the trip and two weeks into knowing the guys that you realise that you have a crush. it’s only a small inkling but you know it’s serious because no matter how much you try to dissuade it, it keeps popping up.

when you’re eating, when you’re brushing your teeth and even when you’re picking your outfit with him in mind. does he like blue? is he more of a yellow guy? or is it pink that’ll catch his eye?

the three of you head to a restaurant that night. it’s a seafood place, the three of you laughing and joking about something you’d seen earlier. they look good. smell good too. they even argue over who’s going to pay for the meal and look at you like you’ve got three heads when you offer to pay.

“it’s fine y/n, you’re a student.” oscar says, smiling as logan gives up. he pays quickly, all cash with no fuss. “we can get it.”

“ubering must make you a lot of money.”

“yeah. something like that.” he smiles again. this time with no teeth as he gets the receipt.

-❀-

logan goes to bed early that night, citing something about his family being desperate to check up on him. it leaves just the two of you outside in the corfu evening air.

“want to go for a walk?” you ask, looking at him earnestly.

“yeah. sure.” he’s trying not to be too eager. not to scare you off. the two of you start walking down the street.

“i always like to go for a slow walk after a big dinner. i feel like it probably helps with digestion.” you speak quietly, as if not to disturb the silence of the street. he likes your voice and is willing to listen at any volume you decide.

“i think it does. i try not to eat too much.” oscar responds, shoving a jittery hand in his pocket. “i can’t gain any weight for my job.”

“yeah, logan said. that’s weird. what kind of uber driver has a weight limit?” he shrugs and smiles. “do you miss australia?”

“sometimes. i’m used to travelling though. i’ve done it for so long.” he looks at you. “what about you? do you miss your home?”

“eh, i wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. i wanted to remake myself. i was gonna do it all y’know? a name change and everything.” you look up at the stars for a moment. “i didn’t go through with it. even if i changed my name, i’d still be y/n really. inside.”

“i get that. i think.” oscar looks at the gorgeous landscape in front of him. he ignores all the people milling around the two of you. to him it’s just you, him and the view. “so, y/n-“

your phone interrupts him. a loud, obnoxious ringing noise. you mouth an apology at him when you look at the caller id.

“sorry, it’s my best friend. she wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important. she’s more of a texter anyways. do you mind?” you point at your phone. he shakes his head with a smile. you disappear to take your call and he finds a bench to sit on. he leans back, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

what was he thinking? asking you out? thank god the world or fate or god or whoever is in charge, stopped him before he made the biggest mistake of his life. you liked logan and he didn’t blame you. he really, truly didn’t.

when you come back, you ask him what he was going to ask. he shrugs. it wasn’t important anyways, he says. he asks what happened with your friend and listens you chatter all the way back about your friend’s current work drama.

-❀-

the next morning, logan and you head down to breakfast together. it’s a continental breakfast that the hotel offer. it’s good, with a wide spread of toast, pancakes, omelettes, cereal, fruit and sausages. you load up your plate, happy to get food for free even though technically you paid for it.

logan’s plate is smaller. you think about what they said earlier about weight limits and feel a pang of sympathy. i mean, your job was not very well paid but at least it gave you freedom in your spare time to do and eat whatever you want.

“is oscar not coming?” you ask, forking a fluffy piece of omelette and hash browns in your mouth. it’s gorgeous and you’re hungry.

“nah. he’s not feeling too good. i’ll bring him some breakfast in a bit.” logan methodically goes through his breakfast. slow, small bites and chews it for as long as possible. “wanna go for a swim later? it’s hot as hell outside. i feel my skin melting off.”

“you are going a little red.” you tease. he smiles again, shyly. his face does go red when you lean forward and press your cold cup against his cheek. “a little better?”

“it’d be better if you’d go swimming with me.” he smiles.

“of course i will. can’t leave you by yourself. who knows what’ll happen.” he laughs this time. “now wanna try some of this omelette?”

he sits politely as you lean over and feed him a forkful of the spinach and cheese omelette. for a moment, the two of you look into each other's eyes as you feed him. he turns away as soon as it’s okay and chews the bite.

“good?”

“yeah. yeah. it’s good.” he smiles at you. “let me just get some more water for us, be back in a moment.”

“is it getting too hot for you?” you tease.

“a little.” he sheepishly grins again. “let me cool down.”

-❀-

it’s your last day with the two of the guys before they drop you back off at the bus stop to go back to athens. your heart is still pinching at the thought of leaving, but you decide your last day can’t be in vain. they’ll be going home soon so it’ll be the best time to admit what you already knew. what you had known for the whole time.

you’d been on the phone with your best friend who had helped you to write a pros and cons list.

— pros - you could be a girlfriend to a great guy. you would be happy. you would have a rich boyfriend (your bff added that). you could touch them in any way they’d let you. you could sleep together. you could also sleep together (bff again). you would have a great time. you would have fun. would it improve your life? potentially.

— cons - they could say no and you’d have to jump off a cliff. they could be dating each other and you’d be embarrassed that you didn’t figure it out. they could laugh at you. they could be disgusted. they could be nice about it and gently let you down. they’re not even from anywhere close to greece. it’d be a long distance relationship. could you even deal with that?

you shake your head and lift your hand up to his bedroom door. the wood is cold under your knuckles. the world still moves around you, tourists laughing in their rooms and people walking around. their voices murmuring.

as your hand hovered there, you thought for a moment. about how this could change everything. was it too soon? too risky? then you remembered, it’s now or never.

take the plunge and with that, you knock.

liked by anyaaaa, alexjohnson and 183 others.

yourusername: this summer is going well. made two new friends, spent half of my savings and made some new memories and isn’t that what life is all about?

anyaaaa: when are you coming back? miss u girl!!

-> yourusername: soon! i just need to figure something out first.

-> anyaaaa: you’ll figure it out. you always do. can’t wait till you come back <33

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#summer lovin’ ❀ #jayde’s works ☆ #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 texts #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant smau #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #formula one smau #formula one imagine #logan sargeant x you #f1 x you #ls2 x reader #op81 x reader #op81 x you #ls2 x you

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part four (m).

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 18.0k

themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, mentions of death, unprotected penetrative sex, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, tons of business talk, talks of nazis/fascism/conservatism, really morally grey shit, roman’s implied demisexuality, kendall & reader's popsicle war, mencken himself is a warning

series masterlist. main masterlist.

A conservative political fundraiser weekend was the last place on earth you wanted to be, but hell—Logan wanted you there, so who were you to say no to the boss? Besides, hubs like this were always good to sniff out who would be the most dangerous people on the red spectrum.

The hall was decked out in lavish decorations—chandeliers and golden ornaments and marble statues every which way you looked. It was full to the brim with mingling politicians of all kinds: the kinds being old white men, or…

Hm. Seemed like it was practically all old white men other than a handful of women wandering around. White women, of course.

You and Shiv locked eyes for a moment. Though the two of you shared many common political interests, at least much more than the rest of the family, you often found yourself on the opposite ends of agreement. But today, in a sea of men with confederate flags for dicks, the two of you found solace in one another. 

“You can smell the panic,” she told you. “Berlin Bunker vibes.”

“They’re scrambling,” you replied. “Nobody was expecting this. Maybe they should’ve.”

Beside you, Roman cuffed your shoulder. “Ooh—the libtard and the soc-commie. How does it feel to be spelunking in the elephant’s asshole?”

“Calling me a communist isn’t the insult you think it is,” you told Roman, rolling your eyes.

“Mmh. I’m sure they would’ve loved you in the 1930s.”

Shiv crossed her arms. “We’re just corporate observers.”

“The weekend isn’t over yet—we’ll get our white cis-male stank all over you,” Roman commented snidely.

It was then that Greg came up to the group, expression muddled with confusion. “Hey, guys, some guy with an undercut just called me a ‘soy boy’. What, uhm, I don’t really know what that means? What is this, actually? Like what’s everyone here for?”

“It’s just a nice political conference of like-minded donors and intellectuals,” Roman told his cousin.

“I wouldn’t call them intellectuals, exactly,” you said with a frown. You were pretty sure half of these men owned podcasts talking about how toxic masculinity is fake, and the other half were so old they didn’t know how to turn the brightness up on their own phone. 

“We’re picking the next president,” Tom piped up, which made Shiv arch a brow.

“That’s not… that’s not really how it works.”

Roman shrugged. “No, sure, but… it kinda is.”

“Is that—is that constitutional?” Greg queried, looking around worriedly, suddenly wondering if he was participating in yet another illegal activity.

“Welcome to the one percent, Greg,” you told him with a sigh. “Where you don’t have to worry about the constitution anymore.”

Roman pinched your cheek. “Awh, look at you, embracing the right-wing traditions! I love that for you.”

Wrinkling your nose, you swatted his hand away. “Six months till election day and still no candidate. Surprised everyone hasn’t unanimously agreed on putting the vice prez up on a pedestal.”

“Steady old plow horse, huh?” Roman said, directing his gaze to the old vice president, Dave Boyer. “He licks his lips too much. Like a—like a cartoon bear when there’s a picnic hamper nearby.”

You laughed at that, and Roman shot you a grin. 

“I’m going to go take a tour. Check out the fresh meat,” he told you, and you nodded. 

“I’ll be near the entrance if you need me.”

With that, he set off to mingle, hands shoved into his pockets to stop him from his habitual itching and scratching.

“Who are you thinking?” Shiv leaned forward to ask.

“Boyer. Seems the most obvious, easiest choice,” you replied, meeting her scrutinizing stare.

“Are you saying that because he is the easiest choice, or because he’d be the easiest to win against?” she asked with a sharp smile.

There was a momentary pause. “Why, who do you think they should put up?”

“I say we go blue.”

Your mouth fell open as you struggled to find the words to respond with. “Shiv, that just—that’d never work.”

“Why not?”

“You realize ATN is fucking—it’s fueled by everything right-wing! For us to suddenly bat for dems would bring nothing but angry conservatives and we’d lose a fuck-ton of shareholder money.” You shook your head. “Look, Shiv, I don’t like them as much as you do. But forcing your dad to swing blue is just a terrible idea.”

Her features hardened. “The least we could do is try. Right?”

Before you could respond, Roman came hurrying back, phone clutched tightly in his hand. He shoved the screen up against his sister’s face. “Did you know about this, you withholding bitch?”

“Uh, what?” 

“You know Glyn, the, uh, the Brexit pervert?” Roman said, gesturing to the tall British chap with a large nose. “Yeah, he just sent this to me—apparently our mother is marrying Peter Munion.”

Both you and Shiv doubled with surprise. “What?” she asked. “Who’s Peter Onion?”

“I don’t fucking know. I wonder if that first-born fucker knew,” Roman said. 

“I mean, if you guys didn’t know, I’m sure Connor wouldn’t have known, either,” you ventured, glancing over at the eldest sibling chattering to two other politicians about abolishing taxes.

Snorting, Roman replied, “No, the other first-born fucker. Kenny Dick.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Call him.” Shiv nudged her brother.

With a hum, Rome whipped his phone out and called his brother, putting it on speaker phone for the two of you to hear.

“Yeah, what?” Kendall’s voice came through on the second ring.

“Hey. Just wanted you to know that new dad just dropped.”

There was a brief crackle of silence. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Mummy’s getting married, you dingus.”

“Did you know?” Shiv leaned forward to query.

Roman snickered. “Of course he didn’t know, Ken bores the shit out of mom.”

You remembered one Christmas when you were children, the family was exchanging gifts—Kendall had set down a little red box in front of Caroline so she could open it. Something hand-made? You’d always wondered. The wrapping was shoddy. It was forgotten and pushed off to the side in favor of prettier, more expensive-looking presents. You were pretty sure Caroline hadn’t even seen the gift. Or maybe she did. Maybe she just didn’t care to open it. Nonetheless, Kendall, thirteen years of age, didn’t try to give it to her again. That night, when the servants were tossing away all the stray wrappings and ribbons, you caught sight of the crumpled red box chucked into a black garbage bag. You didn’t dwell on it, because Roman had heckled you away soon after to ‘watch’ Shiv play with her new dollhouse.

“What are you even talking about?” Kendall asked. He sounded angry. “You mean, she’s marrying Rory?”

“Uh, no. She took the view ‘Fuck Rory’,” Shiv said, glib.

Sneering, Kendall abruptly changed the subject. “Hey, Shiv, is it true you’re at the hate-fest? Burning books and measuring skulls down in Virginia?” 

“Yeah,” Shiv deadpanned. “What are you doing with your weekend? Planning to send us all to jail? Your favorite past-time?”

Before it could escalate into a full-on argument, Roman pulled the phone close to him and said, “Alright, just wanted to let you know that Mummy still doesn’t love you. Bye, Ken!”

With that, he hung up.

“Do you think your mom is going to invite me to her wedding?” you asked, wrinkling your nose at the prospect of going all the way across the ocean when you had so much work piled up. “And would she be offended if I didn’t come?”

“Oh, she’s definitely inviting you. You know how she is. Needs everyone who knows of her existence to see how rich and pompous she is. She’d have a grudge against you if you didn’t come,” Roman told you.

You frowned, and Roman laughed.

“We can be each other’s date. It’ll be fun. Don’t worry about it.” He rubbed your shoulder, and began leading you off to the bar to get some drinks. 

“Your mother would love that. Us, being each other’s dates? She’d gloat in our faces that she’s known all along,” you mused with a grin, before leaning against the counter and asking the bartender for your preferred drink.

“Or she’d be too self-absorbed to notice. And it’s okay for her to be that way because it’s her own wedding.” Pulling a sour face, Roman shook his head. “Blegh. I can’t believe she’s actually marrying someone named Bunion.”

You laughed softly. “Munion.”

“Whatever.”

Before either of you could say anything else, a figure approached the bar, standing just beside Roman.

“Hey guys,” said Mencken. “What’s up?”

Both you and Roman turned your heads to him. He shot you a glance, noting the unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, it’s the—it’s the ghost pepper. The spicy new flavor, Mencken.” Rome gave the taller man a onceover, drawing a long sip from his glass.

Mencken’s keen eyes darted from Rome to you, and back to Roman, scrutinizing. Burning. You couldn’t quite gauge what he was thinking, but knowing all the hot bullshit he liked to spew on the internet, you were sure it’d be nothing good.

Him as president? That’d be like putting a mask on Hitler and crowning him King of the nation.

“So what’s your deal? Most people here want to fuck me or kill me.” Mencken asked, leaning against the bar. “I’m hoping it’s the former.”

You weren’t quite sure if that was directed to you or Roman, but you were disgusted, either way. 

Roman clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Ooh, wow. I always found it hard to care about politics, so… I trust in Y/N to have enough opinions for the both of us.”

He gave you a fond pat on the shoulder and you spared your friend a stiff smile.

“Right, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” Mencken said, sticking his hand out. 

Staring down at his extended palm, you took a second to consider flat out ignoring him. But, not wanting to cause a scene, you shook it firmly, nodding curtly. “Likewise,” you lied.

When you pulled away, you made the conscious choice to discreetly wipe your palm onto your pants.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. The both of you, actually.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, straightfaced.

“Tabloids never shut up.”

“They hardly ever do.”

Mencken crossed his arms. “To be honest, I always thought you two were just a PR stunt. You know the vibes… look away from all the sexual harassment, because the prince and princess of Waystar are being all snuggly at a charity event! But now that I’m looking at you in person…”

His words struck a nerve within you. A muscle in your jaw twitched. 

Roman laughed, nervous. “We aren’t—we aren’t, like, a thing. I mean we—we kind of are, but we’re also not really—”

The older man whistled sharply, lifting a hand to stop him, as if he were a dog. “No need to explain to me. I’ve been down that road many, many times.”

“Roman and I are close,” you told him, voice steely. “The details are none of your, or the public’s concern.”

The way Mencken smiled was wolfish. Greedy, almost. 

“Alright, here’s my party trick,” he said to the two of you. “Tell me who your enemy is, and I’ll tell you who you are.”

A part of you wanted to laugh. Where did he get that from, an alpha male, raw meat-eating youtuber’s podcast?

Roman sucked in a breath, amused. “Oh-kay. Let’s put a pin in that one.” He took another sip. “I’ve seen your poll numbers. You’re dark-horsin’ shit. Are people buying your whole… thing?”

Facism. That’s what Roman was alluding to. This man was a fucking fascist. The two of you were entertaining a fascist! You couldn’t believe what you’ve come to. 

Mencken chuckled. “They better buy it. Or I’ll send them to the Gulag.”

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, wrinkling your nose. 

“No, no, no. Not work camps. Just—summer camps. It’ll be like summer camps,” Mencken said. 

“Summer camps but with beatings, right?” Roman asked, unsure if the man beside him was joking or not.

“No, no. Shh—no beatings.”

Mencken winked. He fucking winked! To your surprise, Roman laughed, genuine and chesty. 

“Wow. Tough crowd, huh?” Mencken said, meeting your unamused eyes. “You always struck me as the quiet little country mouse. No wonder you’re sticking to the big-gun citymen.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t find labor camps all that funny,” you remarked, drumming your fingers along the countertop. 

“I’m just kidding. We’re joking around.” He elbowed Roman’s arm. “Is she always this uptight?”

You had to admit that it stung just a bit when Roman tipped his head back and laughed. “It’s what I like most about her. Ain’t that right, schnookums?”

You sniffed in disdain, shrugging off his hand when he placed it on your shoulder. You weren’t a huge fan of how… warm Roman was to him. It felt vile, and it felt wrong. 

Tilting his head, Mencken smacked his lips together and started up, “So, uh… do you guys know yet? Who takes over?”

Roman stopped sipping his drink and set it down. “What’s that?”

“When they send the old battletoad off to the hoosegow.” His eyes glinted. “Your dad, Logan. Admiral Grope Boat.”

“Yeah, no, he’s not… that’s actually not happening,” said Roman. He scratched at the back of his head. 

Mencken cackled at that. “Hah, yeah, that’s right. Stick to the line. That’s good.”

The two of them smiled at each other.

A sudden pit of nausea started curling within your stomach. 

Boyer and Salgado approached the bar, striking up a conversation with Mencken, effectively roping his attention away from the two of you. You downed your drink and leaned against Roman with a mild hum.

“I really thought this event would be more interesting,” you admitted.

Shoulders shaking with his chuckling, Roman asked you, “What, did you think there’d be a gun-slinging showdown? Old western-style?”

“Well, yeah. What else do conservatives do?”

The two of you snickered under your breath. 

It was then that Shiv came to stand by you, ordering a drink for herself. “Hey. What’ve you guys sniffed out?”

You offered her half a shrug, glancing over at Mencken. With a lowered voice, you said, “A lot of rotten apples in the orchard.”

The siblings both hummed at that—Shiv in agreement, Roman in amusement. 

“Look at us, playing nice,” you overheard Salgado tell Mencken. To your credit, they weren’t quite using their inside voices. “People might think we liked each other.”

“Hey, I’m a conservative! I like tradition,” Mencken protested. “I doff my cap to vice president Boyer’s years of loyal service.”

“Thank you. I believe you used to call me Martin Van Boring.”

Mencken grinned. “Hey, come on! No, I still call you that.”

Nodding, Boyer shifted to speak to everyone else gathered around the bar. “Listen, Mencken and I may differ in some areas, but, uh, we both agree that this is the party of the working class now.”

Shiv pulled an incredulous face, scoffing loud. 

“What? You don’t agree, Shiv?” Boyer asked. “All the richest counties in America are blue. The Democrats and tech hold all the wealth.”

“Oh, yes, because everyone here is scrounging through their couches for loose change,” you snidely commented, coolly meeting Boyer’s gaze. 

The old man licked at his lips, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “Come now, I’m talking about the general public. We don’t count.”

Why not?

“I just think some of us get so high off of owning the libs, we forget to talk policy,” said Salgado.

Mencken snorted. “Yeah, Rick loves to talk policy! What he does is he memorizes a National Review issue from 2012 and then recites it back to you. Cool policy, bro.”

This made Salgado frown. “Mmh, Jeryd hates to talk policy because it would mean, you know, having one.”

Roman whistled sarcastically. “Sick burn, brosef!”

“Oh, no, no. We’re kidding. We are!” Mencken insisted. He smiled at you and Roman. “We like each other. I listen to his speeches every night. Yeah. They help me drop off.”

Out of the three politicians, you had to admit that Salgado was the most appealing. Sure, he was a pushover and really only concerned about his public image rather than what he was promoting, but it was better than Mencken the fascist and Boyer the conservative lip-licker. 

“Maybe it’s boring talking about populist solutions for working families,” said Salgado.

“Rick, come on! You jerked off to Reagan’s headshot for thirty years, and now you’re Tom Joad?” Mencken jeered.

Rolling her eyes, Shiv told you, “God, this shit is so fucking boring.”

Overhearing, Mencken gave the woman a onceover. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” Shiv met his gaze. “No, I’ve just—I’ve seen your thing quite a lot.”

Mencken uncrossed his arms and then crossed them again. He was frowning, brows knitting together—evidently he didn’t quite like being tested.

“And what’s that? What’s my thing?”

“Youtube provocateur bullshit,” Shiv told him with a bitter laugh. “Aristo-populism. ‘Rape is natural, it’s all red pill, baby.’ I’m just—I’m just so fucking over it.”

“Have you read Plato?” asked Mencken. 

Oh, God. Was he really pulling the philosophical literature superiority card? Was he being serious?

“Yeah,” Shiv said in a mocking voice. “Remind me, what happens?”

“Oh, read Plato! Read Plato!” Mencken told her, his manner condescending.

“Don’t want to!” Shiv exclaimed. “I don’t fucking want to!”

Salgado cut in, “See, he doesn’t actually want to have a conversation. He just wants to yell loud enough to get on ATN.”

“Nah! Fuck ATN,” Mencken said. The room fell silent, and all eyes were on him. For a moment, he looked at you and Roman, the two of you watching him with muted interest. You wondered if he was seeking both of your approvals. “No, really, ATN is treated as a bulwark, but it’s dead. It’s basically a pudding cup at 5 PM in the nursing home. It’s status quo bedtime stories to maximize shareholder value.”

Though you didn’t want to agree with any of Mencken’s sentiments, you had to admit that his take on ATN was a valid one. ATN was hardly a reliable source, with its heavy right-wing influences. To you, it was merely a station to feed into the delusions of the older conservative generation. At the thought, you looked over your shoulder to Logan, seated on a table not too far from the bar. You only saw his back, but you wondered if he was listening in.

“Honestly, it doesn’t speak to me,” Mencken continued on. “Doesn’t speak to the people I talk to.”

“And who is it you talk to?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mencken stared at you for a moment before answering, “People who want to see the truth. See the natural order of things.”

“Natural order. Wow,” you whispered under your breath. With that, you ordered another drink. You couldn’t listen to all this bullshit sober. 

Mencken nodded. “Logan Roy was an icon. But, you know… he’s no longer relevant.”

“Do you recognize this fucker?” Roman asked, shoving the phone in Shiv’s face.

“Nope,” she said.

You peered over his shoulder to see the wedding invitation on his screen, zoomed into his mother’s fiance’s face. 

“Fucking jelly-boned, low-T, pip-pip cheerio fucker,” Roman muttered as he shut the phone off and slid it back into his suit jacket’s pocket.

You pressed the button on the elevator to go up. Logan had called all of you up to the royal suite to discuss options for the next red presidential candidate—something you weren’t at all looking forward to. “He doesn’t look all that bad. Do you think your dad knows?”

The doors slid open and the three of you filed in.

Roman tilted his head. “No. But we have to stop the wedding, right?” 

Both you and Shiv exchanged incredulous looks. 

“Stop obsessing over Mom’s new husband,” Shiv told her brother. “Just get over it. Who cares?”

Narrowing his eyes, Roman asked, “Get over it? It just fucking happened. My mother’s marrying some dickhead, crooked-toothed turnip man.”

“His teeth looked quite nice in the picture, actually—” you began, before falling silent at Roman’s loud groan.

“What’s wrong is how little you care about it, you frozen bitch,” Roman commented off-handedly, making Shiv roll her eyes.

“Oh, poor Rome! His dreams of porking Mom are slipping through his little lubed-up fingers!” she leered, snickering a little.

A frown crossed your features. “It’s okay to care about it, Shiv. I mean… it’s your mom.”

“Something she often forgets,” she murmured, and that marked the end of the conversation.

The elevator rolled to a halt, the doors opening once more to a grand hall. The door to the suite was all the way down, and the three of you made your way there in contemplative silence. Logan was inside to greet you, along with Tom, Hugo, Connor, and Greg (who was awkwardly lingering by the curtained windows). 

“There’s a lot of chat flying around. A lot of flapping,” your godfather said once everyone had settled in. “We need one voice on this, or we could fall apart and hand it to the fuck-fuck donkey gang.”

Donkey gang, obviously meaning the democrats. You spared Shiv a look—she was seated away from her husband, frowning down at her hands.

“So… who do we like?” Logan asked.

Shiv cleared her throat and said, “Shouldn’t we kick it around for a bit? Feels like it’s poised, so if you and Petkus come together, and the other donors follow, it just—”

“Exactly,” Logan deadpanned. “We’re picking. We haven’t got all night.”

Occupying one of the long sofas all on his own, Connor put forth, “I like Connor Roy.”

The room lapsed into silence for a few seconds. Roman smiled, amused.

Calling back to the short conversation you had with Shiv earlier, she said, “Honestly, Dad, I think you go Dems.”

Immediately, the two brothers in the room reacted with incredulity.

“Wow,” Connor scoffed.

“Jesus Christ! What, are we all going to hold hands and sing kumbaya next?” Roman exclaimed. Then, he sat up straighter. “Uhm, I… I kinda like Mencken? But—I know he’s kind of shitty, so if it’s now, I guess I’d say Boyer. But can I also just say that I don’t like Boyer?”

Though you were not at all happy that Roman was leaning for Mencken, you had to agree that Boyer was a safe choice. You crossed your arms. “Hard pass to Mencken. I say we go Boyer. Vice is nice, no?”

Shiv sighed loudly.

“What? What’s with the fucking attitude?” Roman asked.

The redhead held her hands out. “Okay, look, no disrespect, but Boyer was yesterday’s papers. The Dems will run on change and blow him away.”

“Ooh, Mrs. Politics,” crooned Roman. “How many big races did you win as a consultant? Four? Three? Did you win two? One?” He held up his middle finger.

She scowled. “Roman, Boyer is not a winner, and we know that.”

“Okay, then, should we talk to Mencken?” he asked. “See if we can deal?”

Vehement, Shiv said, “Uh, can I just say something? Mmh, no. Mencken is an integralist, nativist fuckhead. He’s toxic! He’s fucking—he’s ‘medicare for all, abortions for none.’ And his idea of diplomacy is shooting roe deer with Viktor Orban and then starting the trade war with China! Look, I know that there’s the carnival bark, and there’s the fucking show, but he’s outside the American political tradition. I think we have a responsibility as Waystar—”

She was cut off when Roman began humming the national anthem.

“Fuck you, Roman!” she spat out.

You put a hand on his arm, and he stopped humming. “I know my opinion here means little to nothing, but… I don’t like Mencken. He’s radical, and he’s dangerous. I’m not saying we swing blue, either. I’m saying we stay safe with Boyer. Our position right now is… precarious. It’s the best option we have.”

Logan studied you, and nodded twice. He was never one for safe options, though. You knew that full and well.

Both Roman and Shiv burst into an argument then, lobbing insults back and forth at each other. Tom stared blankly at the ground, looking even more exhausted than he usually did.

“Stop being a dirty little pixie whispering swastikas into Dad’s ear!” Shiv ground out.

“Boom! There you go again! So fucking route one!” Roman exclaimed. 

The scowl on her face deepened. “I’m not saying it’s going to be the full Third Reich, but I am genuinely concerned that we could slide into a fucking Russian Berlusconied Brazilian fuckpile!”

Raising his brows, Roman shot back, “You have a trophy husband and several fur coats. I think you’re gonna be fine.”

“Tom,” Logan said, seemingly unaffected by the harsh bickering. “Who do you like?”

“Me? I, uh… I think Shiv talks a lot of sense. I also jibe with Salgado.”

Blowing out a breath, Roman said, “You jibe with him? Pretty sure that’s racist, Tom.”

“Salgado is another safe alternative,” you said. “Just not… not Mencken.”

This made Roman nudge his elbow into you. “I thought you were all about giving people chances! Mencken, he’s… you and him have a lot of beliefs in common, actually!”

“Oh? And what’s that?” 

“You’re, uh, both against free-market capitalism! That counts for something, right? Why don’t you just give him a chance?” 

You pinched the space between your brows. “Rome—”

Before you had a chance to finish, Roman was addressing Logan. “Dad, I know you came to the market to get a nice milk cow, but we found ourselves a fucking T-rex, okay? He’s box-office. The guy is fucking diesel. I mean, he’s good on camera. He’s fun! He’ll fight. Viewers will eat out of his hand. No downside.”

“Uh, right, no downside. Let’s just invade Poland, Dad!” Shiv scoffed. “His chief of staff broke a kid’s jaw at a rally!”

“If we don’t come to an accommodation, we get outflanked and we lose the ATN dollar machine when we need cash to fight Tech. Right? Shiv wants her way, I want my way, Connor wants his way, so that’s even.”

Vehemently, Shiv protested, “It’s not fucking even! My opinion counts for more!”

Everyone looked to her, miffed. She sounded more like a child than anything. 

“No, it does! It just fucking does! I know this! People hate Mencken. They fucking hate that guy!” Shiv lowered her voice, as if just realizing that she was yelling a notch too loud. “You have to look at the climate.”

 From the windows, Greg raised a hand. “Do I—do I get a vote?”

“Oh, sure, buddy. You get to vote at the election with all the other folks,” Roman told his cousin, humorously.

“Yeah, well, I just thought I’d get a… bigger vote in here?”

Ignoring him, Hugo said, “Boyer is likely to be flexible over the DOJ.”

“Not if he doesn’t win,” Shiv said. “Which… he won’t.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” you sighed. “You’re blue, Shiv.”

“My personal politics and the company’s values are on opposite ends of the spectrum,” she clarified. “I have to put the company before myself.”

“Okay, we’re hearing rumors that the case is weakening,” Hugo said. “No one big is likely to do jail time. With the notable exception of Tom, of course. Sorry, Tom.”

Visibly, Tom’s shoulders seemed to stiffen, but he nodded nonetheless. “No, please, Hugo… understood.”

Shiv turned to address her father again. “If you don’t go blue, Dad, then at least we have to be backing Salgado.”

This made Connor audibly groan. “Ugh. Señor Dickless. Captain of the Tampa Bay Cuckaneers.”

“Look, I don’t like him. He’s a neocon pretending to be a paleocon, but he at least talks base!” Shiv said. 

Roman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Wow. I think you’re so brave for picking the brown man. I think that we should get you a medal! A special medal for white women who like brown men.”

“Wow, okay. You’re just being racist! You’re being racist now!” Shiv said, swinging her incredulous gaze from you to her father.

In a mocking tone, Roman said, “Oh, yeah, I’m a good girl! I pretend to care about people because nobody ever cares about me!”

“Hm. Roman, do you have anything you wanna tell Dad? A message from Mom, maybe?”

He recoiled, frowning. “Uh, yeah, wow. Fuck you! Thanks, I do.” Roman looked to his dad, and he could feel the familiar fear creeping up and seizing his ribcage. It helped that you’d shifted your hand to lay over his, but only barely. “Mom’s getting remarried.”

Logan nodded, contemplative. “Hm. To Bertie Woofter?”

“Ooh, no. To Peter. Peter, uh, Peter Munson.”

“Munion,” you whispered.

“Peter Munion,” Roman corrected. 

Anger clouded over Logan’s eyes. “You’re fucking kidding. The seat sniffer? Christ. He’s been hanging around for forty-some years!”

“Yeah, and, well, she’d love it if you came to their big Tuscan wedding.”

“Ooh, La-di-da,” Logan said, sucking in a deep breath. “And they sent you as their messenger boy?”

He laughed and laughed. Roman shrugged.

“Okay,” the old man finally said. “Back to it, then. Who are we picking?”

“I guess there are other names,” Hugo offered. Connor coughed pointedly into his fist, but nobody paid him any mind.

Firm, Logan said, “We have to be united on this. It’s a disaster if we splinter.”

“Salgado has great narrative,” Shiv said.

Scowling, Roman spat out, “Quit butt-huffing Salgado! We all supported your little DC lemonade stand, but this is the real fucking world. This actually matters.”

Lip curled, Shiv replied, voice dripping with venom, “Roman, you just love the boot because you like to be kicked by it.”

Clearly hurt, Roman sucked in a deep breath and picked a piece of lint off his pants.

Connor coughed again, and Logan finally asked him what was on his mind.

“Nothing,” the eldest son said. “No, it’s nothing.”

As if to entertain a ludicrous notion, Logan smiled. “What about Connor?”

“I do believe that idea has good promise,” Connor exclaimed. “I do!”

“I could see it,” Logan said. It was strange seeing him smile in such a way. You couldn’t quite decipher its genuinity. “Kids?”

With a slight snicker, Roman raised his brows. “Uhm… sure, I don’t know.” After a pause, he straightened and asked in a more serious tone, “Wait, but, like—really?”

“It feels very…” You winced, sending Connor an apologetic look. “Very nepo baby? Very rigged.”

Roman shrugged. “They’re all fucking weirdos, anyway. Why not?”

“I mean, he’s a good-looking kid,” Logan said. “He’s smart… in his own way. Fucking Joe Kennedy did it for his boys, no? So let’s get him in there with a smile and a shoeshine and get Ron and everyone behind him.”

No way the matter was settled. Shiv crossed her arms, eyes darting every which way in an incredulous manner. 

“I would fight so fuckin’ hard for this family, Pop,” Connor told his dad, warmth spilling over his features. 

Logan casted his gaze over to his daughter. “Siobhan. As a political consultant… what do you think?”

“Well, no huge name ID, but the family name will be a factor and… uh, he’s got no track record.”

“Nothing to beat me with,” Connor emphasized with a charming grin. “I’m a clean skin!”

They yammered on some more, and Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline, seeming stressed. He pulled out his phone and shot out a few texts really quickly, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

Finally, once he put the device away, Roman shook his head. “Okay, but, are we being serious about this? We’re talking about trying to make Connor president?”

All the warmth drained from Connor’s face, replaced by a marring frown. “It’s a big tent, Roman. Why don’t you just come in?”

“Sure. Right. I might just call the guy who waxes my balls, he would be a great president, don’t you think?” Roman retorted.

Shiv interjected once more. “If we’re talking about this seriously, I really think we need to take a look at Salgado. Can I bring him up here without being fucking shot?”

Connor rolled his eyes and Roman groaned.

Finally, Logan’s eyes landed on you.

“You’re for Boyer, Y/N?”

You sat up straighter. “I think he’s safe. Most conservatives like safe. Or, at least, the illusion of safety. Boyer can give them that.”

There was a second of a pause, before Logan nodded. “Hugo. Call Boyer.”

“Well, if Shiv gets to bring up soggy Salgado then I wanna see if we can tame Mencken, okay?” Roman asked just as Hugo handed Logan the phone. In a quieter voice, Roman leaned forward to whisper to just you, “I arranged a meeting with him tonight. Come with?”

You reared back, eyes narrowing. “What? No, Roman.”

“Please? Just… you don’t even have to say anything. Just hear him out. What if he’s not all that bad?”

You blew out a steely breath. Meeting with a fascist was certainly not something you ever thought you’d agree to do. 

Begrudging, you muttered, “Fine. But please, Roman, don’t be serious about him. I’m begging you.”

Roman gave you a half-shrug, which didn’t quell any worries you had one bit. “We’ll just see how the dice rolls.”

When Boyer finally picked up the phone, the two of you lapsed into silence, listening in on the conversation. His voice was groggy, as if he’d just been woken up. He didn’t sound too happy at Logan’s request to come to the room.

“Oh… and my fridge is empty, Dave. I don’t suppose you could bring me a Coke?” Logan said. You raised a brow in surprise whilst Roman smiled down at his lap. It was a power play—a reminder to Boyer that he ate out of Logan’s palms.

“Did you mean to call room service?” the vice’s voice crackled through.

“If you don’t have a Coke, is there something else? Could you, perhaps, fire the deputy attorney general?”

“Fire the deputy attorney general?” Boyer parroted, twinged with disbelief. 

Logan smiled, laughing. “I’m kidding. Come on over. Have a chat. If it’s convenient, of course.”

Five minutes later, Boyer was at the suite’s door. You had no time to listen to his talk with Logan, because Roman was already up and pulling you out the door. He spared no explanation to Shiv, who watched the two of you leave with suspicious eyes. 

You took the elevator a floor down, where Mencken’s room was. 

Roman was the one that knocked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet anxiously. 

“Come in!” you faintly heard Mencken’s voice say. Both you and Roman exchanged looks, yours warning and his pleading, in a sense.

He wanted so badly for your approval.

The two of you stepped in, met with an empty hotel room. It took you another moment to realize that the bathroom door was ajar, Mencken standing in front of the mirror with just a towel hanging over his hips, shaving foam shadowing over his chin and jaw. He was dragging a razor through the white foam, a smile to his lips upon seeing the both of you.

“Hey, guys. Glad to see you again.”

Roman smiled back, leaning against the bathroom’s door frame while you lingered behind him.

“So… I—we just wanted to chit-chat a little bit. That was funny earlier, by the way. You tripping the light fantastic on Grandpappy’s nutsack.”

Mencken hummed. “When I called your dad bullshit? Did that bump?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve never seen that before. That was fucking hardcore,” Roman commented. “Y/N isn’t a fan of ATN either, as it turns out.”

For a moment, you sent Roman a half-hearted glare. He’d said that you wouldn’t have to say anything.

“Ooh. Waystar’s princess, not liking Waystar? How meaty.” Mencken tilted his head back to shave the nooks and crannies that were harder to maneuver around. “Good for you, though. The thing is… this monkey don’t dance.”

Roman laughed, pointing at him. “This monkey right here? The monkey shaving in a hotel bathroom?”

“That’s right.” Finally, Mencken rinsed off the last bits of foam from his face, wiping off the excess dampness with a towel. There wasn’t a single nick on his face—you thought of the many times you’ve watched Roman shaved, when he always somehow managed to garner a dozen or so tiny cuts along his jaw. Mencken turned to face the two of you. 

“Listen, I did want to talk to you about something. Fuck it, I’ll just come right out and say it.” Roman eased into the bathroom, leaning against the wall opposite Mencken, tugging you in as well. It was a strange feeling—you’d never had a meeting in a bathroom before. Wrinkling his nose, Roman said, “Fascists are kind of cool… but not really. So, is that, like, gonna be a problem? Will it be a thing?”

It unnerved you when Mencken sighed, stepping closer to the both of you. So close, in fact, that you could smell the shaving cream he’d used. Your brows furrowed in distaste and fixed your stare on the tile down below your feet.

“Seriously? Me? I just… I don’t have a lot of boundaries.” 

Evidently, you wanted to snap. But you kept quiet.

“St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Schumacher. I’ll borrow from anyone. To restrict me to that label is just… it’s not right, is it? You know, if Franco or H or Travis Bickle had a good pitch, fuck it!”

This made you tear your gaze away from the ground, meeting Mencken’s stare head-on. He was much closer that you realized, and that made you all the more uncomfortable. 

“H?” you finally croaked. “As in—?”

He spared you a wolfish smile. “I’m a fully-fledged, small-dicked Democrat.”

“I don’t think you are,” you challenged. 

This made him tilt his head and bark out a laugh. “Which one? Small-dicked or a Democrat? Because I can tell you now that neither of those are true, sweetheart.” Your unamused countenance seemed to only fuel him further. “A well-regulated election is a transmission frequency for God’s grace, really.”

“Holy shit,” Roman whistled. “You really are a Christian, aren’t you?”

“Well, no, no, my only thing is like—who’s the stakeholder, right? I’ve been tending my little garden for a hundred years, and then forty new guys show up in the back of a truck, playing their boombox. When it’s put to a vote, they decide to, uh, give my farm to themselves. I mean, it’s ridiculous, right? Maybe we should be putting in before we get to take out.”

There was so much to pick apart with his ideology. So many flaws, so many weak-links. But you didn’t say anything.

Instead, Roman asked, “Okay, well, who gets to join?” 

“People trust people who look like them. That’s just a scientific fact. They will give more tax dollars to help them,” Mencken said. “And I know you look nothing like me, ma’am, so I’ll just say it plain and clear. I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. But that’s just part of the thrill, no?”

You recoiled back into Roman. “What the fuck are you talking about? What thrill? Can you just—back up a bit? You’re all up in my fucking personal space.” 

Your scowl loosened just a tad when Mencken raised his hands and took a step back. He snorted. “Sorry. Don’t cancel me. Or do. I don’t think it matters much, right?”

He was right, but you didn’t say it.

“I like this country,” Mencken admitted. “I do. I like the people in it.”

“Not all the people, though, right?” you carefully asked.

“Of course, not. And don’t get all high and mighty on me. You can’t say you like all the people in it, now can you?” You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. “We aren’t too different, you and I. Roman… I see why he’s taken a liking to you. You have some sense about you.”

You gave Roman a questioning glance, wondering what on earth he’d said to Mencken through text.

You clenched your jaw. “I’m not here for you,” you finally breathed out. “You can’t sway me, Mencken.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.”

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Roman finally intervened before you could get too heated, “In terms of, you know, this thing we have… there’s a thing here, right?” 

“Mhm.”

“I get it. You’re fucking 6G and we’re Betamax, but you need us, I think. Our news, our viewers, those fucking almost-deads. That’s a big slice of pie,” Roman explained. 

“Well, if I’m the nominee… are any of them really going to vote against me?” he asked.

Half a shrug lifting one of his shoulders, Rome said, “No, but… it’s going to be a fucking shitshow going into the convention. I think you could really use our push.”

You weren’t happy about any of this. But Logan had already called Boyer. The deal was done, right? You’d walk back up to the suite, and the next red-wing electee would be picked. This was all… for nothing.

Right?

Mencken nodded. “And I think you could use my push.”

“Maybe,” Roman admitted.

“Where are you in all this?” Mencken asked Roman, curiously. “What’s the little forgotten Prince doing?”

Roman made a nervous, whooshing sound. “I’m, uh, you know. I’m creeping on the come-up.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mencken glanced at you, as if to decipher whether or not he was telling the truth. You betrayed nothing, looking back down at the tiles.

“I’ve got some ideas for ATN. Sluice out the fucking porridge and add some sriracha. Poach some of those TikTok psychos, you know? E-girls with fucking guns and Juul pods. Give me some straight-shot blacks and latinos. That’ll get a few generations turning heads. No more of this fucking… pillows and bedpans. We’re strictly bone broth and dick pills. Deep state conspiracy hour but with, like, a fucking wink, you know? It’ll be funny.” Roman clapped his hands together. “The whole show is kinda set up for the star. President Jeryd Mencken.”

Your face soured.

“I like that,” Mencken said, stroking his freshly-shaved jaw. “I like that a lot.”

“Well, I don’t. Good fucking luck, Roman.” With that, you straightened your shoulders and marched out of the bathroom, needing to get away from the two of them. You needed air. More importantly, you needed to get up to the suite and ask if they’d settled for Boyer.

The two men stood in the bathroom, silent for a few moments.

“I think she likes me.” Mencken smirked.

Roman scratched at the back of his head. He was really hoping you’d see the better side of Mencken, like he did. He just hoped that you weren’t too angry with him. You hardly ever got mad, but when you did, it always felt like the end of the world to him.

“Right… can you, uh… come up and say hello or something to him? My dad?” Roman glanced at the door. “Oh, and bring a can of Coke with you.”

Logan chose Mencken.

That night, you crawled into the cold hotel bed and cried. You felt so… so trapped in a life that you didn’t want to live. You briefly wondered what would happen to you if you quit your job entirely, but you pushed the thought away almost as quickly as it came. It wasn’t something you liked to entertain.

Half an hour later, you could hear your door opening. 

Right. You’d forgotten that Roman had asked for another set of the key card to your room. You quietly wiped your tears away, grateful that it was too dark for him to see.

He slipped in behind you, sliding his arms over your waist and pressing his nose into the back of your neck. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

You chose not to reply, pretending to be asleep.

“It’ll be good,” he said, eventually. “He’ll be good. I promise. His dick is big enough for the both of us.”

You shifted your foot just a bit, but that was enough for Roman to know that you were awake.

“Stop ignoring me.”

“I don’t want you here,” you murmured.

There was a shuffle behind you. Roman cleared his throat. It was so unbearably tense.

“If it’s Mencken you’re worried about—”

“I don’t want you here,” you repeated, a warbling edge to your voice. “I love you, Roman. Please leave.”

He went stiff. One second, then two, then three. 

“I love you, too,” he finally said. It was said with no joking tone, no playful quips, no inappropriate remarks. It wasn’t often that Roman told you that he loved you, at least compared to the number of times you’d say it to him. Maybe it was because he never knew if you meant I love you, or I’m in love with you.

And with that, he slowly slipped his hands off of you, and got back onto his feet. He made a show of leaving the key card on the nightstand, before making his way out of your hotel room.

He shut the door behind him, standing in front for a minute. A part of him wanted you to open up and beg him to come back. An even more delusional part of him expected you to do so.

Instead, Roman could hear your muffled sobs ricochet from behind the door. Something within him seized up. He turned on his heel and left.

Kendall had invited you to his birthday party, to your surprise. After all that transpired between the two of you, you hardly expected to be wanted at his party. Though, from what you heard, it was hardly a personal affair.

It didn’t seem like your kind of event, honestly, and you hardly had a reason to go. You loved Kendall, but you could tell him that any other day of the year, when he wasn’t surrounded by fucking vagina-entrances, childhood treehouse replicas, and miniature Wu-Tang dancers. Though, Kendall told you to keep that last bit on the down low. The dancers were meant to be a surprise.

But you weren’t at all planning on going. 

That was, until Logan decided otherwise for you.

There was a problem with GoJo, and Logan was pissed that Matsson hadn’t shown up. Something about blatant disrespect, he’d said. 

“He’s going to this fucking party, isn’t he?” Logan had barked. “Huh? Where is he? Getting his nails done? Asshole whitened?”

Roman squinted at his dad. “I think we just have to court him a little, is the thing—”

“Bah. No. It’s bad fucking juju to start like this,” Logan snippily said.

You quirked a brow, knowing Logan was never one to be superstitious. 

Shiv and Roman both tried to broach more options, but Logan shut them all down. “The deal makes sense. It’s a great deal. But he won’t make the deal because he’s being an arrogant prick.”

“Fine. Yeah, sure, Matsson’s an asshole. But should we really burn our only parachute because of that?” Shiv stressed.

Logan leaned back in his seat, regarding his daughter. “It’s just smart business, Shiv. I don’t want to pay over the odds. And eventually, the market will make him make the deal.”

You shook your head. “The market has plenty of better hands to deal him.”

“Someone can make a better offer, and we’d be screwed,” Roman agreed. 

“Dad, we have a scale issue. Our streaming platform is for shit, and we have nothing that looks like growth,” Shiv added on. “This gets us consequently into streaming, into sports betting—social media! We have a little window. Miss this, and we end up being pilot fish nibbling leftovers from Bezos’ fucking teeth. Dad, please. If you don’t want to talk to Matsson, fine. But let me.”

“Let us,” Roman interjected. “We can all do it. He’s gonna be at the party, right? We’ll go.”

“You’re going?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at Shiv.

Her eyes darted from her father to her brother. “Mhm.”

Heaving out a breath, Logan nodded. “Y/N, you go with them. Don’t go in too strong. This is a black box, and I don’t want to overpay.”

You wondered if Logan wanted you there to help broker the deal, or if he wanted you there to make sure Roman and Shiv didn’t start clawing at each other’s throats.

Shiv nodded, muttering something under her breath, and darted out of Logan’s office to make some preparations. That just left you and Roman standing in front of Logan. The air between the two of you was still tense since the whole Mencken debacle.

You were about to step out as well, before Logan said, “Since you two are going, might as well give him this in person.”

He slid over an envelope. The three of you, along with Gerri, had discussed its contents: an offer for Kendall to cash out of the company for good. Roman glanced at you, and you used your head to gesture for him to take it. 

“You think he’ll like it?” Roman asked his dad, who offered him half a smile and a shrug.

When he turned to look at you, the glass door was ajar and the spot where you were standing a moment ago was vacant.

Roman’s palms were sweaty. This was about the fifth time he’d wiped them down the front of his suit’s pants, hoping they’d just air out on their own by the time he got to your door.

They didn’t, but Roman found himself shrugging it off. You’d seen much worse than sweaty palms when it came to him.

It was an hour before the party was supposed to start—more so if he wanted to be fashionably late, didn’t want to seem too desperate—and he rang the bell.

It’d only been a few days since the two of you properly spoke, but Roman missed you. He found his nights staring at your number, thumb hovering over the call button. He’d sent about a dozen texts since then, but none of them were replied to. Sure, the two of you had gotten into fights every now and then but they never lasted long. 

And Roman was determined to get you to stop ignoring him.

When the door swung open, you peeked through, not at all ready yet for the party. Roman snickered upon seeing your eyeshadow only done on one eye, curlers in your hair.

“Looking hot, fuck-face,” he whistled. To his relief, your features softened, and you stepped to the side to let him amble in. Even in your current disheveled state, you knew he was telling the truth.

In truth, you’d missed him more than you could ever admit. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to reply to his strings of texts, especially once you were given time to cool off after what had transpired in the hotel bathroom. He was your Achilles’ heel, in a way.

“What do you want?” you asked, not even bothering to face him as you shut the door and made your way further into your home, standing in front of your mirror vanity to resume doing your makeup. 

Roman watched your reflection in a near somber manner. “Well, I was just thinking, since we’re going to Kendall’s little birthday bash, we could go togeth—”

“No,” you found yourself saying without a second thought. “I can go myself.”

With a sigh, Roman stepped forward, leaning against your vanity so he could look at you instead of your reflection. “I just want to talk. This—whatever’s going on between us—it fucking sucks. I miss you.”

For a second, you let your eyes meet his. You didn’t say anything, simply carrying on with drawing your eyeliner. 

“You’re not gonna say you miss me, too?”

“Of course I missed you, Rome.” There was a sort of bitterness to your words. “That doesn’t make me any less mad at you.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I went down the Mencken road. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. But, cross my heart and hope to die, I genuinely believe he can help us. And, like, what’s the worst he can do? Just because he becomes president doesn’t mean he can do fuck all. I’m just with him because we’d all benefit from him helping out the company.” He scratched the back of his head whilst giving you, as he would so eloquently put it, fucky eyes. 

There was a long stretch of pregnant silence. You’d finally put down the eyeliner, shifting to stand directly in front of him, your chest brushing against his. 

“What can I do?” he whispered. He couldn’t help it—his eyes were fixed on your lips, parted and glossed. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

You smelled so damn good too—Roman felt like he was going delirious. He chalked it up to not being around you for a long while. That was probably why. His hands reached out to rest over your hips. 

“Not much you can do now. What’s done is done. Your dad settled on Mencken—there’s no changing his mind.” You tilted your head, so close now that your nose was brushing against his. He briefly wondered if you could feel the way his heart was slamming imprints against his ribs. 

You were just a hair’s breadth away from kissing him. You were so fucking close—

Until you pulled away with a smug little grin, far enough so that his hands fell away from you, going right back to fixing up your makeup. “I can look past Mencken for now. Mostly because I can’t see someone like him actually winning the election. But I’m absolutely not saying that I’m with you on this. I’m just saying we can put aside our… differences. If he just so happens to win, I’m counting on you to have your hand up his ass, and my hand would be up yours. So we’re good, for now.” 

“You fucking tease,” he grumbled, chuckling slightly. “What was that about your hand up my ass?”

“Awh,” you said in a mocking tone, one of your feet kicking up to knock against his shin. “Did you manage to get a hard on without me even touching you?”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. And no.”

He was lying. He definitely had an erection, and the both of you knew it.

“Did you want me to kiss you?” you asked abruptly, starting to pull out the curlers in your hair.

His mouth went slack. His mind was moving too fast for him to formulate any coherent sentences. Instead, he laughed a bit, before it tapered away awkwardly.

“Yeah?” he finally replied, more of a question than anything.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m sure,” he haughtily replied.

“Okay,” you said, though you didn’t look convinced. Another roller came out. 

“Don’t believe me?” Roman placed his hands over your hips once more, and yanked you close. “I’ll kiss you right here, right now.”

A brilliant smile danced across your features. “That a promise, Romey?”

With that, Roman leaned forward and slotted his lips over yours. It was tentative and soft and—surprisingly sticky. Your lip gloss, he registered a second later, tasted like strawberries and honey. A content hum slipped from you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with just as much vigor. Your nose slanted against his, foreheads knocking together. 

You were the one to pull away first, laughing lightly at his hooded eyes and the way he chased after your lips. A second bout of laughter overtook you when you saw the glossy, tinted smudges across his mouth. 

Shoulders still shaking, you pulled out a makeup wipe and handed it over to him, silently gesturing to his lips. 

“The color doesn’t suit you,” you rasped, though you kissed his cheek to leave a faint mark there, as well. “That’s a first for us, you know?”

“What?”

“Kissing.”

Roman looked at you strangely as he wiped away the remnants of your gloss. “We’ve kissed millions of times. Mostly you, because you’re obsessed with me.”

“Yeah, but… not like that. Mouth to mouth. It was always a line I didn’t wanna cross, you know?”

He toyed with a brush laying on your vanity. “Why not?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit more unsure. “You afraid I’m gonna give you cooties?”

“Well, because we’re…” You paused, gesturing between the two of you. “We’re friends. With occasional benefits, I guess. I didn’t know if you were okay with it.”

Lifting a shoulder, Roman offered you a smile. Friends didn’t sit quite right with him. Not anymore, at least. “Well now you know. You can kiss me all you want.”

You huffed in amusement, before pulling out the rest of the rollers in your hair. All you had left to do was put on your outfit, and you were good to go. You wondered if Kendall would be happy seeing his siblings at his party, when you knew for a fact that he hadn’t invited them.

“I’m gonna go change. You want me to help you out with that?” You looked down at his tented pants with a raised brow. “No blow jobs, though. Don’t wanna ruin my makeup.”

This time, Roman was the one that laughed, loud and chesty. He sucked on his teeth, as if debating his options. 

“How much time do we have?” he asked.

You glanced over at a small clock hanging on the opposite side of the room. “We’ve got forty-five minutes, maybe? If we wanna get there before Matsson gets bored and leaves.”

Roman clapped his hands together. “Great! More than enough time.” 

The two of you ended up fooling around for a bit longer than you’d anticipated—he’d humped your ass with you bent over your couch, then finished by jacking off onto your back. You were grateful that you hadn’t yet changed into your outfit for the party, having stayed in a comfortable white shirt that you shucked off and threw into the laundry bin.

To your surprise, he seemed earnest enough to want to try fingering you, and you shyly told him to go for it if he wanted. A permanent flush fixed over your cheeks as you gently guided him to do what felt best. His thumb over your clit, his fingers sheathed deep in your cunt. He was good at it, mostly because he was clinging onto your every plea like it was gospel. You came with a drawn-out moan and your teeth sinking into his shoulder. 

You managed to squeeze in just one more handjob for him since he somehow got hard again while fingering you, whispering filthy nothings into his ear as he whined, eyes rolled into the back of his head. To your curious delight, you’d found that Roman really liked being called a good boy.

Only after all that did you manage to change into a semi-formal dress, touching up on your makeup since a lot of your lipstick had smudged onto Roman. In turn, Roman headed to the bathroom to wash up a bit, comb back his hair, some strands had come loose during your little excursions, and straightened out his suit.

“You ready?” you asked, peeking into the bathroom. The two of you were a bit later than you would’ve liked. “I want to make a stop at the corner store before the party.”

“What for?” he asked, curious.

“Last minute birthday gift,” you replied, hopping slightly as you strapped on your shoes. “Let’s go, Rome. You look hot, I promise.”

He smiled at your reflection, and took your outstretched hand. 

Upon arriving at the large venue, the woman in front asked to take everybody’s coats and phones. To which, Roman told her, “Yeah, fuck off, I’m not doing that,” and walked right past her. 

You gave her an apologetic smile, shedding your coat and handed it to her. “Sorry, I can’t hand you my phone. Company policy.”

With that, you jogged to catch up to Roman, chatting with Connor, who had also chosen to cling on tightly to his coat. Beneath it, you saw that one of his arms was in a sling.

“Oh, Con, what happened?” you asked, waving hello to Willa.

“Nothing, nothing. Just ranch stuff,” the older man replied, nonchalant.

Roman snorted. “What, a horse didn’t want you to fuck it?”

“He had a fall,” Willa said, and Connor immediately protested.

“You make it sound like I’m ninety years old. No, Maxim and I just got some polling results. We shared a Cognac, and then I slipped doing a little Irish jig.”

“Oh, okay. Ranch stuff. Got it,” quipped Roman. 

You stopped in front of a tunnel-like entrance, the walls lined with soft pink. 

 “This feels disgustingly Kendall,” Shiv said, and the two of you laughed as you strolled in. “So… where’s Tabs, Rome? She busy?”

Arching a brow, you looked to Roman. You knew that his relationship with her had fizzled out, especially after the… corpse sex debacle.

“Yup,” Roman said, clearly not comfortable discussing it with her.

She grinned, snickering. “Again? Did you kill her?”

“We’re actually—we’re not really seeing each other anymore. She was just a bit boring. That’s all I’m saying,” Roman said. His eyes darted to you, and you offered him half a smile.

“Mmh, yeah. Because you find sexual intimacy boring, don’t you?” Shiv pressed, which made both you and Roman frown.

“As if you’re the catch,” Roman snapped back. “You’re more fucked up than me, you know! Seems like Y/N and I are nicer to each other than you are to your own husband.”

Shiv looked between the two of you, expression immediately souring. “You’re so fucking annoying,” she muttered, before turning to mutter something to Tom.

By the end of the pink tunnel, a woman dressed in a cartoonish nurse uniform greeted the group. “You’ve just been born into the world of Kendall Roy!” she announced.

“Oh, Jesus,” Shiv huffed.

Roman turned back to look at the pink tunnel. “Oh. So if we’ve just been born, then that must be mom’s…?” He shifted his weight back and forth by the exit. “You’re telling me I’m repeatedly entering my mom’s vagina right now?”

You snorted in amusement, nudging Shiv. “These your mom jokes just keep getting better.”

She hummed. “Cold and inhospitable. It seems to check out.”

“This is my mom’s cooch, just so you know,” Roman told the nurse. “And you’re implying that it’s massive, so, uh, might wanna get Kendall to see if you can tighten my mother’s vagina.”

The group shuffled off, leaving the poor nurse to gather her wits and greet the next few guests approaching. 

“Where’s Matsson, you think?” Shiv asked.

“Probably standing in a corner somewhere, monitoring his biometrics from his watch,” Roman scoffed. 

“Don’t you think we should find Kendall before trying to find Matsson?” you queried, looking around the crowded room in hopes of finding Kendall somewhere amidst the dancing throng. “I mean… it is his birthday party, after all.”

Nodding, Roman said, “Yeah, good thinking. Let’s just get it out of the way.”

Shiv managed to track down one of Kendall’s assistants, asking her where he’d be. She pointed up the stairs, where the VIP section was. Thanking her, the three of you made your way up the stairs whilst the rest of the group stayed down to mingle. 

The second floor was a bit less packed, but there were still dozens upon dozens of famous figures mingling about. It wasn’t hard to find Kendall amongst them, sticking out like a sore thumb with a birthday crown perched on his head, laughing with his girlfriend, Naomi Pierce, by his side. 

His eyes met his siblings’, and he scrambled to take the crown off, dropping it onto the nearest waiter’s tray. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Wait a second. Who let you guys in? This is friends only!” he exclaimed. 

Shiv made a pitying noise. “Awh. Shouldn’t it be empty, then?”

Roman cackled. “She beat me by one second.”

“Happy birthday, old man,” Shiv said, giving her older brother a sharp smile.

“Just to say, I’m only here because I heard there was going to be a five-dimensional catastrophe, and I want to watch you crash and burn,” Roman told him.

Features mellowing, Kendall stepped forward and spread his arms out wide to give Roman a hug, which he reciprocated with no complaint.

 However, he did have to squeeze in, “Man, it even feels like you’re old. You sure you’re only forty? You look like shit.”

Despite his harsh words, Kendall pulled away with a genuine smile. He was happy that his siblings were here, even if he hadn’t invited them.

He hugged you next, and you reached up to kiss his cheek with a smile. “Hey, Kenny D. Happy birthday—I brought you a little present.” You reached into the cheap plastic bag from the corner store, brandishing a strawberry popsicle, still in its wrapper. “It’s probably a bit melted but if you popped it into the freezer for ten minutes or so, it should be good as new. Sorry it’s not much.”

Kendall’s expression seemed to soften, recalling how the two of you would always argue over the last remaining strawberry popsicle during the summers you were still little children. When you would grab it from the freezer before he could, he’d tug on your pigtails and call you mean as you denied ever taking them, and you’d hide the wrappers in Rome’s room so he’d never know it was you. But he could always tell from the sticky red on the corners of your mouth and your sugar-highs that seemed to last for a little too long. 

“No, this is…” He took the popsicle from you, staring down at the wrapper. “This is perfect. Thank you. I really appreciate it, I do.”

You nodded, pointedly watching as he pocketed the popsicle. “No problem. I promise not to take this one from you.”

Kendall laughed, then looked to his brother and sister. “Really? No card? I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t find one that said both ‘happy birthday’ and ‘get well soon’,” Shiv crooned. The smile on Kendall’s face faltered.

“Well, I’m glad you guys came. It says a lot,” he finally said.

“It was a ten minute drive,” Shiv deadpanned. 

A part of you wondered why Shiv was being particularly brutal today, especially on Kendall’s birthday. Nonetheless, the two of them awkwardly hugged, Shiv patting her brother’s back a few times.

Connor and Willa ascended the stairs a few seconds later, waving hello. They greeted the birthday boy with hugs, and the smile returned back to Kendall’s face, though it wasn’t quite the same as before.

“So, what do you guys think? Sick party, right?” Kendall asked, arms spread.

Squinting, Roman glanced back downstairs. “It’s cool, but, uh, did you ask for Mummy’s permission to use her, uh… squatch?”

Kendall shook his head a bit, seeming puzzled. “What, from, like, a copyright perspective?”

“Well, it’s just, you know—call me old-fashioned, but I think you should ask before constructing a giant replica of someone’s vagina,” Roman off-handedly said.

“I’d definitely want to be informed before someone decides to make an artistic rendition of my privates,” you chimed in agreement.

“Duly noted,” Roman said in a faux British accent, and the two of you giggled under your breath like schoolgirls.

Kendall, miffed, nodded a few times. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. I can—I can send mom an email. But, relax, will you? Yes, Roman, you can take it home with you.”

Roman pumped a fist into the air at that, and you both burst into another round of giddy laughter.

Rolling her eyes, Shiv said, “Okay, so, tell us. Who else is here?”

Kendall made a show of looking around at the dozens of famous celebrities loitering around the VIP section. “Who isn’t?”

“Your dad,” Roman said.

“Your mom,” Shiv told him.

“Your wife,” Connor added.

“Your kids?” you put forth, more as a question than anything. 

“Any real friends,” Roman chimed again.

With a smile, Shiv said, “I mean, business folks, sure. Stewy? Honestly, we could do with building some bridges. So, uh, Lawrence Yee? He here? Lukas Matsson?”

There it was. She name-dropped the golden goose.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re all here, somewhere,” Kendall assured, gesturing around vaguely. “I have something to show you guys, actually. Come on.”

The siblings and you followed him down a winding hallway, which gave way to black-out curtains, and past that, it seemed to be an art gallery of sorts.

“Hey, Dad wanted me to give this to you,” Roman said, handing Kendall the envelope. You eyed it warily, wondering how Kendall would react to the offer.

“What is it?” the older brother queried, shaking it lightly, as if expecting something inside to rattle.

A dismissive sort of smile fell over Roman’s face. “It’s, uh, an iTunes gift card and a couple of your baby teeth. It’s nice. We hope you like it.”

Kendall looked at you, silently asking for confirmation. You nodded, hesitant, but that seemed to satisfy him enough—he pocketed the envelope to open up for later. 

“Okay, guys, let me show you some shit. C’mon.” He beckoned everyone into the art gallery, before spewing into a long tangent about all the people he had to collaborate with in order for things to work out.

Instead of paintings and sculptures, which you’d typically see hung up in galleries, there were newspaper articles and headlines plastered over the walls. 

The Cincinnati Standard: Waystar Chairman, Kendall Roy Elected President of World Federation!

Boston Daily Express: Wife of Tom Wambsgans Arrested In Sweep of City Street-Walkers!

The Correspondent: Connor Roy Elected President [of shitting his bag]!

The NY Globe: Failed Youngest Roy Sibling Dies in Tragic Jerk-Off Accident!

Both you and Roman stopped to stand in front of his article. You shot him an amused glance. “Who were you jerking off to, do you think?”

“Don’t worry, fuck-face, there’s a lot of Roman to go around,” he said, leaning closer to read the smaller text.

Your grin grew wider, gesturing to the paper. “Not for long, according to this.”

“It’s not a bad way to go.” Roman bumped his shoulder into yours. “Yours is going to happen any day now, I can just feel it.” 

Your brows raised, and you turned around, surprised to see your own article plastered large and tall right beside Connor’s.

New York Journalist: Disgraced CEO’s Goddaughter Kicked Out of Company—Adopted Into Communist Parties!

“Wow,” you breathed out. It wasn’t all that bad, really. 

“You like it?” Kendall asked the two of you.

“You’ve got people in here picturing me jerking off, so who’s the real winner?” Roman sneered. 

Shaking your head, you told Kendall, “I can’t even imagine why you’d have an entire room dedicated to this at your birthday party.”

“It’s—it’s unique. An extrapolation into the near future,” he said. “People dig it.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Roman replied, clapping his shoulder, before wandering off to read the other articles.

Connor threw a large fit about his article, unhappy with the way he was being portrayed as an unserious candidate.

“You did actually shit your bag, though,” Roman said. Kendall guffawed and the two brothers began laughing together, at Connor’s expense.

His scowl deepened. “Yeah, you know why? Because I took you two fucking assholes on a camping trip because Dad couldn’t be bothered! That’s why! I ate some bad fucking fish! This is bullshit, Kendall!” He yelled that last sentence, to which Kendall quickly reassured him that he’d have it taken down.

You remembered Roman telling you about the camping trip, the both of you only barely teenagers. It was harder then, being friends with them—boys were particularly mean at that age.

You remembered asking if you could come along. Kendall told you that it was a boys trip. Only boys were allowed, and you most certainly weren’t a boy. 

You remembered Roman asking if you could somehow fit into the cooler so he could sneak you on the trip. Even now, you weren't quite sure if he was just joking or if he was being serious. Nonetheless, you pushed him away and told him to have fun sleeping on rocks and eating stale jerky that tasted like dirt. When you sniffled, Connor put a hand on your shoulder and told you that there’d be many more camping trips in the future. To your knowledge, they never went again. 

“Alright, guys, I gotta circulate. Lots of people to talk to. We can check in later, yeah?” Kendall rubbed his hands together. You briefly realized that this was the first time you’d seen him genuinely happy in a long time.

“Yeah, yeah, you go on ahead,” Shiv said, urging him on.

“It’s a great night. I’m happy you guys are here. Fucking… best birthday ever.”

With that, Kendall hurried off. You and Roman exchanged glances, mirrors of pity and guilt.

Half an hour of asking around later, Shiv managed to snag down Matsson’s location in this never-ending venue of birthday bash.

“Don’t fuck this,” Shiv warned Roman, to which he rolled his eyes and gestured for her to lead the way.

The three of you traversed up a couple more flights of winding staircases, turning left into a massive hall, where a giant replica of a treehouse was erected, leading into what looked like another secret passageway. You narrowed your eyes, seeming to recognize the little carvings on the wood by the base of the tree. Younger Kendall often went into the yard whenever he was angry, whittling away his frustrations onto the bark. You and Roman used to play pretend that they were ancient runes when he wasn’t around to hear you.

“I think a forty year old man who rebuilt his childhood treehouse should immediately go on the sex offender registry,” Roman snidely commented, eyeing the massive structure. 

Two burly guards blocked the entry way.

“We’re with Kendall,” you said as you tried to sidestep them, but one thrust his arm out in front of you.

“Do you have a rainbow band?” he gruffed.

Roman guffawed. “Yes. I’m a walking fucking rainbow band.”

It was then that Kendall’s head emerged from behind the guards, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, guys. You done downstairs?”

“Mhm. These guys aren’t letting us in. Ain’t that crazy?” Roman asked pointedly. “Do you mind if we took a gander around your mental disorder?”

Kendall laughed, though it sounded forced. “Hah. Yeah, good one. That’s funny, Rome.”

“So are you gonna let us in, or what?” Shiv butted in, clearly impatient.

“That’s, uh…” Kendall smiled, almost apologetic, almost triumphant. “That’s not possible.”

You tilted your head, wondering if Kendall somehow found out that the three of you were after Matsson. “Not possible? Why’s that?”

“You hiding something from us in there, Ken?” Roman jeered. “Nude selfies you don’t feel comfortable with showing? The angsty romantic poetry you wrote when you were seventeen?”

A frown flickered across his face. “Well, okay, the thing is—the treehouse is for cool people, and you guys… you guys aren’t cool. Sorry, Y/N. You know, I would’ve given you a band if they weren’t here with you.”

“I’m flattered,” you said in a flat tone.

“Wow. The coolest grown man’s treehouse I’ve seen in quite a while,” Shiv snippily retorted, which made Roman snicker.

Holding his hands out in a placating manner, Kendall told the three of you, “Okay, no, seriously guys. Sorry, but, like… all jokes aside, there’s actually a real issue here, and I need to be discreet, because there’s a lot of celebrities around, and if you guys were in the treehouse, it would be kinda—kinda wouldn’t feel like the treehouse, y’know?”

Shiv scoffed.

“You’re a nazi lover,” Kendall deadpanned, pointing at his sister. He jutted his finger to Roman, then you. “And you’re a nazi lover. And you’re heavily affiliated with them. Me, on the other hand, I’m a defender of liberal democracy.” 

“Lovely. You afraid of getting canceled on Twitter, Kendall?” you asked, crossing your arms. You let the words spew out without really thinking over them. “Or are you scared to show all your ad-sponsored, money-grubbing buddies up there who kicked you to the ground and spat on your corpse? It’s not a good look, is it?”

Appearing crestfallen for a moment, Kendall shook his head. “You’re being—stop. I didn’t expect you to stoop down to their level, Y/N.”

“Jesus, are you going to let us in or not?” Roman huffed.

“What, to see Matsson?” Kendall finally asked.

There it was. He knew.

“That’s why you’re here. You’re trying to push a deal,” he muttered. 

“Who fucking gives a shit?” Roman asked. “What’s the difference to you? I just want to talk to him.”

Shiv nodded. “You know what’ll happen if we do talk to him? Either we strike out with nothing, or we succeed, Waystar benefits, and your net worth goes up by several hundred million dollars.”

“You’re welcome,” retorted Roman.

“Okay, yeah, but I have to weigh that against the consideration that no losers allowed,” Kendall said, shrugging.

“God, you’re such a fucking child.” You rolled your eyes, the two other siblings following suit.

Trying to step up again, Roman said, “I’m going in. This is fucking stupid.”

Kendall grabbed at his brother’s shoulder, pulling him back, and turning him around to face away from the treehouse.

“Oh, my God. Did you see that? I just got moved.” 

Roman tried again, and the two got into a catty, near indiscernible argument. Kendall pushed, and Roman stepped back, before leaning in again. 

“You really gonna get so worked up over a treehouse?” Kendall hissed. “That’s fucking lame, man.” 

Finally, Roman stepped away, his shoulder bumping into yours. “Fuck. Wow.”

“Don’t let these guys in. This is my treehouse, and they shouldn’t be here,” Kendall warned the guards, before slipping between them, making his way back into his treehouse. “Oh, and, thanks for the offer, guys. Great headfuck from Dad. Really fucking cool of you.”

You thought the buyout would be good for him. A naive part of you had even thought that he’d simply accept it with no complaint. Lord knew it was more than enough money to sustain him several lifetimes.

“Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable,” Roman groaned. “Now what?”

Curious, Shiv looked over at the two of you. “What was Ken talking about? What offer?”

You and Roman exchanged looks. “That was nothing,” Roman dismissively replied, shrugging. “It was just a little move to ease him out of the holding company.”

“What? And—you two didn’t think to tell me?” she just about snarled, brows drawing together.

“It’s just an offer, Shiv. You would’ve found out eventually,” you sighed, rubbing the spot between your brows, the beginnings of a headache starting to fight through. 

“Whose name was on the paper?” she asked, head tilted.

“Mine,” Roman sighed. “It’s just a name, though. It’s nothing.”

“Okay, so why wasn’t I the name if it was fucking nothing?” she demanded. “Historically, who owns the fucking company has been of some interest. It’s not nothing.”

Tired of the conversation, Roman told her, “We handled it. You wanna figure out the financing, or something? It’s all there.”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Yeah, that’s fucking great. You guys are so adorable. Fuck you. Fuck this.” 

She stormed off, heels clanging loudly against the staircases’ steps.

A few seconds of silence lapsed by before you reached out to take Roman’s arm. “You ready to go steal some rainbow bands?”

He used his free hand to cup your face and tug you closer, landing a loud, obnoxious kiss onto your cheek. 

“I fucking love us,” he hummed.

The two of you began to walk around, eyeing all the guests who happened to have bracelets on. 

“I do, too, Rome. I do, too.”

Eventually, the two of you managed to snag down a handsy couple who looked much too busy sucking off each others’ faces to care about their stupid rainbow bands. They handed it to you two with no question and you thanked them with a smile whilst Roman snidely told them to use protection. He was one to talk, really.

The guards also gave the two of you a lot of trouble, but after a bit of charm from your end and a bit of light threatening from Roman’s end, the two of you were finally in the damned treehouse.

“I’m scared we’re going to see detailed exhibits of Kendall’s sex life up there,” you uneasily said. 

“Nah, I think I just saw Anne Hathaway passing by. No way Kendall would embarrass himself like that around this crowd,” Roman snorted. After a second, he tacked on, “But I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Almost at once, your eyes landed on Matsson, huddled up in a dingy corner and playing a shoddy tapping game on his phone. He looked next to miserable, utterly bored out of his mind.

“Bingo,” you whispered, nudging Roman with a grin. 

Once the two of you approached him, his eyes didn’t even bother lifting from his screen. But his brows raised in acknowledgement upon hearing Roman’s voice.

“There you are, fucking hiding from us. You little sneak, you. Like a human VPN.” Roman took the seat adjacent to him, and you sat across from the two. “How you doing?”

A disgruntled noise fell from Matsson’s lips. “Eh. I’m alright. I’m just, uh… you know. You fill in the blanks.”

Your lips downturned slightly. You hadn’t spoken to Matsson personally before, but the two of you had gone to the same conferences before in the past—you were never overly fond of his character. Lazy, erratic, a pure dick-jerker. But you knew he was integral to hold up the company, so you swallowed any and all complaints you had about him.

“I hear you. Yeah. Fucking life, right?” Roman drawled in response, attempting and failing to mimic Matsson’s nonchalance.

“I just wanna find a good pussy and get out, you know?” Lukas muttered. For a brief moment, he looked away from his phone, to you. “You down?” he asked.

Rearing back in surprise, you briefly wondered if he was high on something. He probably was.

A nervous laugh slipped out of you, and you gave Roman a wide side-glare. “I’m not here to get laid.”

“Hm. Pity.” There was lust in his gaze, and you felt a wave of nausea roll over you.

To diffuse the tension, Roman quipped in a high voice, “Yeah, well—pussy’s great. Mhm. You see my mom’s at the front, there?”

Matsson snickered lowly. “Yeah. You seen my mom’s? It’s not… it’s not great.”

Roman laughed, and you begrudgingly cracked a smile at that, too.

“Wow. Yeah, sure, I’m not gonna delve too deep into that one.” Roman leaned forward. “Question—my old man got a little bit grumpy this morning, but you weren’t trying to humiliate him, right? I mean, fucking everyone says we’re the last big legacy content library, and you’re the last fucking super app streaming platform. We fit, obviously. Right?”

Finally, Matsson put his phone down to regard the two of you. He pulled a contemplative frown.

“People say we fit, yeah.”

You eyed Matsson warily, partially worried that he’d get bored of the two of you and go back to his phone. “You help prop us up, and we’ll turn GoJo into a gold mine. A tooth for a tooth.”

With guarded interest, Matsson sat up just a bit straighter. Instead of replying to you, he faced Roman and said, “She’s a bit… how do you get anything done with her around?”

An embarrassed, frustrated sort of flush heated your skin. It was beyond demeaning that he spoke to Roman as if you couldn’t hear everything he was saying. Was it because you were a woman? Because Matsson so clearly saw you as a piece of ass and nothing more?

Though Roman sent you an apologetic, slightly confused glance, he said, “Well, I don’t, really. But, uh, what are you thinking?”

Half of a shrug. “I mean, that’s great and everything, but I do have one small concern.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Roman asked.

“When will your father die?”

Roman’s brows flew up in shock. “When will… when will my father die?” he parroted, blinking himself out of his stupor. “Uh…”

The blonde man gestured vaguely towards him. “Like, I don’t wanna be rude, but—what kind of shape is he in? Are we talking less than a year or is it more like five years? ‘Cause if it’s five, that’s… that’s a long time. It would be better sooner, wouldn’t it?”

Roman broke out into a fit of laughter. A nervous habit, you knew.

“No, yeah, I’m laughing here, but, like—that is my dad, so, you know. Go easy there, tiger.”

Though you were well aware that Matsson clearly had a hard time speaking to you without getting a raging boner, you felt it important to voice, “Is Logan’s position on top a problem for you? For this deal?”

The corner of his lips twitched up when he spared you a look. “No, it’s just that I don’t like the idea of a man hanging over me. It’s not my world, media. Not my thing. But Logan’s death, it would… it would clear space.”

Clear space. How airily he threw about the term. A quick peek at Roman told you that he was just as uncomfortable as you were. He scratched the back of his head rather aggressively.

“Uh, I mean, we’re all obviously… hugely looking forward to my father dying,” Roman started, tapering off into a hum of forced laughter. “But, hear me out, there’d be another shape to this. How about you never ever have to speak to him? You could work out of Austin, Geneva, London, Stockholm, wherever. Totally separate corporate identities. And StarGo, we burn, obviously.”

This seemed to please Matsson immensely. It was no secret how shitty Waystar’s streaming platform was.

“Yes, yes. Please. Burn the codes and fucking acid bath those servers.”

Roman cracked a smile. “We can do that. We could do that together. I mean, GoJo, full bore. Our library, our firepower, our relationships for content. And, like, good shit. Not, like, gay moms and wheelchair kids liberal crap. Actual, popular, shit.”

A frown crossed your expression briefly. You never liked it when Roman got political. Nonetheless, you could see now that Lukas was listening intently to what the two of you had to offer. 

“You won’t have to communicate with Logan whatsoever. None of your decisions would be intercepted by him—it’d be filtered through Roman, if need be. And, you know, if it’s beneficial for you, it’d be beneficial for us,” you told him firmly whilst maintaining eye contact. You wanted him to know that you were more than capable of holding your own. 

It didn’t last long, however, because Matsson rolled his head back and blew out a sigh. “I hope you know that StarGo truly is a piece of shit.”

“It’s a huge piece of shit, yeah,” Roman agreed.

“I like to open it just to see how long it takes for the landing page to load,” Lukas said, lazily smiling. A quick glance in your direction, and he slapped at his knees. “Hey, Roman, you wanna go and take a piss on the app?”

A second’s pause. “What, like, literally?”

“Yeah.” Lukas got up to his feet.

Roman hastily stood as well, sending you an apprehensive look. “Yeah, okay, uh—” before he could finish, Matsson was already striding away. 

God. You already couldn’t stand that man.

“Go,” you told Roman. “He thinks I’m distracting. I know. I’ll be around. You just go land a meeting with him, okay? Keep him interested.”

“Okay. Yeah. Are you—? Yeah, okay. You’re great, y’know? So fucking great.” Roman squeezed your shoulder once, before he shoved his hands into his pockets and jogged after Matsson, who was already halfway to the men’s bathroom.

A heavy pit sank to the bottom of your stomach. Everybody was dancing around you, the music pounding so loudly you could feel the base vibrating the ground. There was a distinct sting to the very top of your nose—a telltale sign that you were upset, even though you were doing your very best to push it down. It was times like these you hated being a woman working in an industry made for and surrounded by men.

With pursed lips, you got up to leave the treehouse, feeling incredibly out of place in there.

And so you wove through the crowds, until you saw Kendall walking down a hall with Naomi, his shoulders tensed.

“Hey, Kendall?” you called out, quickening your pace to catch up with him.

“What do you want?” he asked, bitter. “You wanna ask for a condom so you can go fuck Matsson in my treehouse? Sorry, I don’t have one.”

He did—he always kept one in his wallet, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, no, Roman’s doing that already.” You fiddled with your hands and his eyes softened just a tad, drawing his own conclusions that you didn’t care to spell out. “Hey, uh, sorry, this is a really douche-y thing of me to ask, but… could I have the strawberry popsicle back?”

Dumbfounded, Kendall fixed you with an incredulous stare. “What?”

You cleared your throat nervously, feeling your nose begin to sting more. You weren’t quite sure if those were tears pricking your eyes, or if you were just tired. “I’ll get you another one, I promise.” 

The wrapper was still sticking out of his pocket. Melted, you knew for a fact, but you didn’t care. You wanted it, and you wanted it now.

“What? But this—this is my gift. You said you wouldn’t take this one.”

You were being an asshole. You knew it, and he knew it. “Kendall, just—just fucking give it over. It’s a popsicle! I can get you a million others after this.”

Then, you tried to reach for it, but Kendall sidestepped away from you, bumping into Naomi. 

“Yeah, but this one’s mine. You gave it to me. What is with you?” 

Your lip warbled as you inhaled sharply. “Please? I just—I really need it right now.”

There was a momentary pause as Kendall looked down at the wrapper sticking out of his pocket. In all honesty, he’d forgotten it was even there until you brought it up.

“No,” he finally said. “There’s refreshments and desserts all over this fucking place. You don’t need it.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “Fuck you,” you eventually mustered, tears welling up over your waterline.

A large part of Kendall felt guilty, but he consciously took a step back away from you. “I have to go. My kids gave me a present. Rabbit wrapping. I gotta find it.”

“Eat a dick, Kendall.”

With that, he left.

You harshly wiped away any lingering dampness that spilled over your cheeks and hurried away. As you rushed to get to the bar, you caught sight of Shiv wildly dancing in the middle of the crowd, feet bare and hair tousled. 

It wasn’t long before Tom came to join you, seemingly in a glum mood himself. He was saying something about Greg and his new fixation on Kendall’s assistant, but you weren’t quite listening, merely nodding along at regular intervals.

About half an hour later, Roman finally appeared, grinning so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t split in two. By then, Shiv had joined you and Tom by the bar, breathless and cherry-cheeked.

“You okay?” Roman preened. “Onlookers reported you having some sort of breakdown. People were anxious that you might have swallowed your tongue.”

A frown crossed her lips. “I was dancing.”

“Hm. I heard it looked like a cry for help. That right, Y/N?” Roman casted a look in your direction, noting your glum atmosphere. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Before you could reply, Shiv shook her head. “Fuck you. Did you speak to Matsson?”

“I’m trying to console my friend here, Siobhan—”

“Did you speak to him?” she gritted out again, completely disregarding his initial rebuttal. 

Rolling his eyes, Roman leaned against the bar, his arm brushing yours. “Yup. I spoke to him.”

“And?”

“Don’t worry about it, Shivvy. I’ll handle it,” he snidely remarked. His arm pressed firmer up against yours. In a lowered voice, he asked, “You sure you’re good? You look all—mopey dopey over here.”

You didn’t quite know how to explain to him that you and Kendall had gotten into a tiff over a stupid popsicle, and you were sick of being reduced to the pretty woman men couldn’t take seriously. Even if you had vocalized all that, a large part of you doubted that Roman would understand any of it. He’d look at you all guilty and puppy-eyed, one of the few ways he tried to convey sympathy, and you’d kiss his cheek and tell him it was fine. That was usually how things went between the two of you, anyway.

“No, seriously, Roman,” Shiv just about growled. 

“I’m being serious,” he shot back, clearly growing agitated that Shiv just wouldn’t buzz off. And also because you weren’t talking to him, and the two of you knew well how terribly he coped with that. “I’ll talk to Dad and see if he wants to loop you in, okay?”

The aggravation written plainly over her features seemed to deepen. “Just fucking tell me! This is important, and I might need to finesse.”

“Oh, you need to finesse? That’s so kind of you to offer! But, uh, how would you finesse something that’s already done, exactly? By ruining it?” Roman jeered, crossing his arms. “Yeah, y’know what, I handled Matsson. I understand him. I’m not sure you do.”

You simply watched Shiv’s face cave in with unbridled frustration. In a way, you understood exactly how she was feeling. Though, you supposed you were more folded in than she was, given Roman’s trust in you.

“You know what, if you wanna show off to somebody, maybe show off to someone who gives a shit. Look—even Y/N doesn’t wanna hear about it!”

The two siblings looked at you, and you lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“If you landed it, that’s all I care to know,” you gently told Roman.

A nod, and a hum. “It’s all good. Matsson peed on my phone, but we got it. And listen, Shiv, you’re having a very bad day, I know that. What with hearing that you have to continue sharing an apartment with the old meat wardrobe, but, you know—try to keep your wig on.”

There was a certain fire to Shiv’s eyes, darting between the two of you angrily. “I’m the one in a functioning relationship. You guys are fucked up emotionally and using each other as crutches to feel better about yourselves.”

Now that… that struck a nerve. She was right, you knew it, but you never liked facing your and Roman’s codependency head-on. It was an uncomfortable truth that the two of you were quite comfortable not dwelling on.

“Oh, really?” Roman retorted. “I thought you were thinking about all the dick you were gonna ride while he was behind bars? Hm?”

“Oh, my fucking God,” Shiv hissed in incredulous disbelief. “You know what? Nobody likes talking about me fucking guys as much as you do. Why is that? Is that because you’re the COO who can’t fuck?”

This seemed to stun Roman into silence. His eyes flickered over to your silent form, staring down at your half-empty drink. Shiv caught the way he looked over at you, a cruel scoff hitching in her throat.

“Huh. Can’t even get it up for Y/N?”

A deep breath in, and Roman was quick to push the argument back onto Shiv. “Did you think Tom was going to go to jail?”

“No. I’m happy he’s not going.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are! You look really happy. Fucking rainbows and sunshine plastered all over you. Did you think he was, though? Just a smidge? Maybe Dad would go to jail, too? Oh, and maybe I’d go, too! And because Kendall’s all fucked up in the head, you’d… oh, you’d be able to sit on your little throne. It’d be all about you. You thought it was ladies’ night and they were playing your song, but guess what? You were wrong! All the men got together in the man club and we decided, sweetheart, everything’s fine, so just—”

A cord within you snapped.

“Roman,” you sternly barked out. “Shut the fuck up. We get it.”

“Don’t talk for me,” Shiv haughtily told you, before fixing her brother with a fiery glare. “He’s just using you as a messenger boy, but as usual, you’re too fucking dumb to see it.”

“Right. Mhm. It’s difficult for you, I know. It’s hard to have to do the dance for Dad because you just suck at dancing,” Roman sneered. 

“You’re a piece of shit,” said Shiv. 

Clearly on a roll, Roman just kept talking: “It turns out he loves it when I do the Daddy dance, but I guess that’s because he loves me.” He was feeding himself lies. Logan didn’t even have to do it anymore—Roman was desperate enough to believe it. “He loves fucking me, and he just doesn’t want to fuck you anymore.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re so fucking gross!” Shiv just about yelled.

The two fell into more bickering, but it faltered away when Kendall showed up out of nowhere. You glanced at his pocket—the popsicle wrapper was gone.

“Oh, shit. Look who it is! It’s birthday boy!” Roman greeted in a condescending manner. 

Kendall looked upset—far more upset than when you’d confronted him about the popsicle.

“Neither of you should be here,” Kendall gruffly said. “You shouldn’t be at my fucking party.”

“Oh, God, you’re right. Someone call the cops. Intruders have breached the masturbatorium!” Laughing, Roman took your drink and finished what was left of it. You stared down at the empty glass with pursed lips.

Finally, you looked up at Kendall. “You find the rabbit wrapping?” you quietly asked him. 

He didn’t answer your question. Instead, he stared at you for a moment before slowly saying, “I threw away the popsicle. Melted.”

That hurt a lot more than you would admit it did. “Oh,” was all you said.

Roman looked back and forth between the two of you, wondering what on earth he’d missed while he was up watching Matsson piss on his phone.

“You guys are full of shit,” Kendall said. “You came here to fuck me behind my back. You’re ghouls, and you’re disgusting.”

“Sorry. Whoops,” Roman replied, though he didn’t sound sorry at all.

Then, Kendall turned to call a few security guards lining the walls. “Can we get them out?”

“It’s a little late for that, buddy. I already spoke to Matsson. He hates you, by the way—laughs at you constantly,” Roman harshly quipped. 

Shiv shook her head. “Just stop, Roman.”

“What? Go easy on the birthday boy?”

Stone-faced, Kendall stepped closer to his siblings. “Did you come here to see me at all? You didn’t, did you?”

Shiv spared him a sharp, unapologetic smile. “Well, we haven’t been getting along that great recently, so what do you think? You surprised?”

A mutter and a shake of his head. “GoJo was my idea,” Kendall said. “You stole my idea.”

Raising his brows, Roman jeered, “What are you, fucking six? Dude, you lost. No big deal, no need to cry about it.” 

“None of it would matter if you bought out, Kendall,” you said, only barely loud enough for him to hear. “You don’t have to keep biting the hand that’s feeding you. The cage is open.”

A crackling silence. Kendall looked pained, for a second.

“You’re just a stuck-up cunt that can’t bear to see me win,” Roman said, deciding he wanted to have the final blow.

Kendall sized up to him, getting up close to his face. “You’re not a real person,” he said. “You know that? You’re not fucking real.”

Unflinching, Roman stared up at his brother. “Come on. Why don’t you hit me, maybe?”

“Rome—” you began, but he made a protesting noise.

��Come on, shitty Jesus! You know you want to. Just fucking hit me. Do it!”

Kendall watched his brother, eyes empty. Or full of despair. It was the same either way. With that, he stepped away and began to walk off.

“Ugh, look, I’m sorry, okay? Happy birthday—” Roman strode up to him and placed a hand on his back.

Accident or not, Roman pushed, and Kendall fell. He laughed, then apologized, then laughed again. Connor was there, all of a sudden, telling them to lay off each other.

All this time, you hadn’t moved a muscle. Maybe you were still mad about the popsicle. Maybe it was Matsson. Maybe it was the dysfunctional fucking family you were stuck in between.

Kendall forcefully yelled at Connor to take his coat off, and stormed off. Shiv left a few minutes later, mumbling out how much of an asshole they all were. 

“I want to leave, Roman,” you told him, and his giggling subsided, finally.

“Oh, yeah—fuck, yeah. We did what we came here for. Let’s go.”

Down the stairs, out the vagina (or was it in?), and back into the real world. Roman was saying something, but your ears were buzzing with the aftershocks of the loud music.

You hadn’t even registered Roman telling the driver to fuck off, that he wanted to walk you home. Chivalry wasn’t dead, after all. 

Once inside your house, you tugged your shoes off with a sigh and shed your clothes as soon as you stepped into your room. You just wanted to go to sleep.

Roman peeled off his suit jacket, before sitting down at the edge of your bed. “Hey, I have a proposition for you.”

At first, you genuinely believed that whatever he wanted to say was business-related. But upon looking at him, his dilated pupils, his mussed hair, his spread legs—his proposition was very obviously far from professional intent. 

It was a distraction. A good one, one that you were more than willing to take. You clambered onto the bed, straddled his thighs and leaned over him, your nose brushing his.

“Yeah, Romeo?”

“Let’s have sex. Like, actual peen in vageen type of situation.”

You weren’t drunk, but you were tired, and yet you found yourself nodding with hooded eyes. 

“You sure?” you whispered, low and raspy, as if you’d swallowed a handful of gravel. 

High-pitched, he affirmed with, “Uh-huh.”

You brushed your lips over his, only barely there. Roman jerked forward to kiss you properly, but you leaned back. “Say it, Roman.”

He swallowed, throat bobbing. “I’m sure.”

With the green light, the two of you began to peel away the few remaining articles of clothing you had on, your mouths slanted hotly against one another as you ground over his growing erection. It wasn’t exactly a kiss—more like the two of you were just breathing each other in, sighs and pants and whimpers all.

His hands seemed unsure what to do. Clenching at the bedsheets, grazing over your side, groping at your bare breasts, pressed up against him. His mouth fell away from yours with a particularly loud whine, sinking lower to dig his teeth into your shoulder. You smelled like honey, but you didn’t taste like it. Saltier, more human. A breathless curse fell from his lips, muffled into your skin.

“Inside,” he pleaded. “Fuck, I need—please turn around—can I?”

It was hard to think straight when you could feel his dick twitching, the tip continuously brushing against your clit, sending electrifying jolts throughout your whole body. You hummed, rolling your hips over his one last time, before crawling off his lap towards the center of the bed, your back facing him. A part of you wondered if there was a reason why Roman wanted to fuck you in a less intimate position for your first time together. The other, more lust-addled part of you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Roman’s hands slipped over your waist, and he sank his throbbing cock into your slickened cunt with a pitching groan, tapering off into a whine. 

“So fucking good, Rome,” you cried out once he began unevenly thrusting, pawing at your hips as he grew more desperate—close to his release even though he’d barely even begun.

The sex itself was—it was quick, to say the least. It was clumsy, as well—but he managed to reach over and rub tight circles over your clit, which elicited a choked cry from you. At one point, you swore you felt his lips on your back, but you couldn’t be certain.

When he came, fucking spurts of hot spend into you, you shuddered violently as your orgasm crashed not two seconds later, gasping into your sheets. He thrusted into you a few more times—he liked the overstimulation, your rumbling moans, the way his cum began to trickle down your thigh.

And, finally, he eased himself out, wincing as he sank into the spot beside you. 

He panicked, just a little bit, when you pulled yourself away, getting onto your feet. 

Noticing his jerky demeanor, you offered him a soft expression. “Bathroom,” you said as a form of explanation.

That made Roman relax a bit. 

When you returned, you’d pulled on a comfortable white shirt, before slipping beneath the covers. The two of you laid together, staring at the ceiling, staring at each other, staring at your hands—intertwining together on top of the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, after ages of silence.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, molten brown downcast with shame. 

“For what?”

A click of his tongue, a roll of his eyes. “For—for the shitty fucking sex.”

You barked out a laugh, and Roman appeared mildly offended. 

“It was great, Ro. I actually came, which is more than what I can say for most people I’ve been with. Kudos to you,” you said, grinning cheekily.

“Really? It wasn’t too—was I—?”

“Roman. It was good,” you reassured, shifting closer so that you could press your nose to his cheek. “What do you want me to say? That I saw stars? My throat hurts from how much I screamed your name?”

This seemed to crack Roman’s insecure exterior, and he guffawed lightly. “You bitch. Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.” Another moment of silence. You let go of his hand, watching him carefully. “Roman?”

“Mmh?”

“Did you fuck me to prove a point? Because of what… what Shiv said?”

The air crackled with uncertainty. Roman squinted at nothing in particular. 

Eventually, Roman crooned, “You know I’ve been wanting to stick my dick in you ever since we hit our first fucking round of puberty. You know that, right? That means we were little baby teenagers and I was fucking—fantasizing about dicking you down when I should’ve been doing my homework.” 

It felt like a weight lifted off your chest—a weight you hadn’t even known was there. “Ew, Roman. You’re gross.”

He groaned loudly, dramatically tossing an arm up to cover his eyes. “Don’t say that. I’ll get hard again.”

#roman roy x reader #roman roy fanfiction #roman roy smut #roman roy fluff #roman roy series #roman roy ff #roman roy angst #roman roy x you #roman roy fanfic #succession roman #succession roman x reader #roman roy #succession fanfiction #succession x reader #roman roy imagine

[mellifiedprincess]

Ethan Landry x Reader

Vero Amore

The air was a cool welcome against your skin, as you walked back to your apartment after class. The sun had set about an hour ago, bidding the moon a good night as it sets to rest until the morning.

You felt so at peace when nights were like this. The usually busy streets of New York are quiet, everything just felt so calm. You had even forgotten about how embarrassed you felt in front of Ethan earlier that day.

You were gathered around with your friends, listening to Mindy rant on about movie franchises and what to expect with the new ghostface attacks, when you hear Ethan speak.

“Am I gonna die a virgin?” The question falls from Ethan’s lips without a care in the world. Everyone looks at him, all with disgusted looks. You were more than confused though. There was no way Ethan Landry was a virgin.

Sure, he was sorta dorky, but that’s what made him so goddamn charming to you. And you knew he wasn’t really that good at flirting with anyone, but still, he was definitely fuckable.

“You good Y/N/N?” You didn’t realize you were staring with your mouth open in shock, until Mindys question woke you from your daze. Everyone’s eyes move from Ethan to you, and a light blush appears on your face. “Yeah?” It came out as more of a question than an answer, and you look back at Ethan to find a knowingly teasing smirk on his face, which makes you quickly divert your eyes back to the ground.

He’s always known about your small crush on him, and he thought that’s just what it was, a small crush. Which is why you two weren’t together. Yet. But it was much more than that to you. You were basically in love with the clueless boy.

He obviously had those same strong feelings for you too. This is fan fiction after all.

You try focusing back on what Mindy was ranting about just moments ago, but you just couldn’t. The new information you just learned plaguing your thoughts.

“Are we done here? I think Y/N wants to make sure Ethan doesn’t die a virgin.” Tara’s joking words sends another furious red to your cheeks, and Ethan’s face matches yours. “Tara!” You couldn’t believe she said that. You tried to hide your embarrassed expression in your hands, and the fact you can still feel his eyes on you was not helping.

“Um I just remembered that I totally have something to do. So, I’ll see you guys later. Ya know, if i haven’t offed myself from total embarrassment.” You quickly gather your things, trying to make a hasty exit. You could still feel his eyes on you, making you walk just a bit faster. You were relieved that no one followed you to make sure you were okay.

Ethan wanted to though.

A small smile graced yo ur lips as you thought about said boy, wondering what he was doing tonight.

And as if he knew you were thinking about him, you look at your phone as it starts ringing. His contact photo appearing on your screen. It was one Anika took months ago, Ethan looking down at you laughing, while his hands squish your cheeks together. It was adorable to say the least.

“Hey, E! What’s up?”

“Hey, I um-“ There’s a pause, Ethan trying to gather his thoughts. “I- Do you want to come over? Maybe watch a movie with me?” The smile on your face speaks for itself. “I would love to. I’ll grab a pizza on my way over, I just left class, so just give me like 20 minutes.”

“Wait, are you walking alone?” You can hear the concern in his voice, making butterflies form in your tummy. “Yeah, most nights I do. I don’t want to make anyone have to wait up for me, ya know? Especially with ghostface back.”

“That’s exactly why someone should be walking with you, sweetheart. How about I meet you at the pizza place, I assume you’re going to Rosie’s.” If you smile any bigger, your cheeks are gonna start aching. “How did you know that’s where I was going?” He can hear a hint of teasing laced in your voice, making him smile. “I know all of your favorite spots, Y/N.” You almost pass away at the sincerity in his voice.

“Careful there E, I may fall in love with you.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all. Matter of fact, I even know all of your favorite songs.”

Ugh this boy.

“We’ll now you’ve done it! I’m hopelessly in love with you.” You can feel his smile through the phone.

“Alright, I’m on my way. But you better call me back if you start getting scared.” You lightly giggle at that. “You gonna be my knight in cardboard armour?”

“Don’t you know I would fight Rosie herself, if I needed to, only for you.”

“Rosie is 73 years old Ethan!” “Guess she won’t be making it to 74, if she messes with you.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Let me get the recipe to her cannolis first. I happen to know a certain boy that loves them. I would imagine him being pretty devastated if he could never have one again.” Of course you were talking about him.

You didn’t even realize you had made it to the pizza place either, until you see the familiar head of curls walking towards you.

“I gotta go now, there’s a really beautiful girl who just confessed her love for me, waiting for me at her favorite pizza place.”

“Lucky girl.” You hang up after that, your smile only growing bigger as Ethan stands in front of you. He reaches to grab your school bag from you, something he’s always done since he’s known you. It was such a small gesture that had become second nature to him, he didn’t even think anything of it, but it still meant so much to you.

You step into the small restaurant, as Ethan holds the door open for you, and you immediately spot the older woman. “Y/N! How have you been my darling? And who do you have with you today?”

“Hi Rosie. This is my friend Ethan.” A knowing look crossed Rosie’s face and she tries to hide her smile, but fails. “Is this the boy you’ve been telling me about? Loves my cannolis?”

“You’ve been telling Rosie about me?” The blush that rushes to your cheeks could rival your blush from earlier that day. “What? No way! Rosie is actually diagnosed with dementia, so she gets a bit confused sometimes.” Rosie takes the hand towel thrown over her shoulder and lightly smacks you with it. “Now, don’t go fibbing on me.” She still has the same knowing look on her face, as she makes her way back around the counter.

“Y/N here talks about you all the time, dear. She talks more about you than she talks about anything else. Says you’re a good boy, smart too.” You think you may take Ethan up on his offer to fight Rosie.

“Huh, isn’t that nice of her.” Ethan looks down at you with a teasing smile.

“Shut up!” You cross your arms over your chest, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“It’s okay! I talk about you to literally anyone that will listen.” “Really?” He reaches to grab your hand, squeezing it gently. “Really. Just ask Chad, he’s the one who gave me the confidence to ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me.”

There’s a pregnant pause. No way are you two confessing to each other in Rosie’s Pizzeria.

“You like me back?” You ask with an unsure tone.

“Oh, I don’t just like you. I’m so in love with you, it’s concerning.”

You giggle, feeling like you’re on cloud 9.

“I’m in love with you too, E. If you didn’t know that already.”

You both stare at each other for a few seconds, just basking in each others words.

“KISS ALREADY! I’m not getting any younger here, kids.” Rosie shouts from her place behind the counter and you both laugh at the woman.

“Yes ma’am.” Ethan replies, before gripping your chin and he leans down, placing the softest and sweetest kiss to your lips.

“Vero amore.” Rosie whispers softly to herself.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream vi #fluff

[i-care-4u]

FIRST LOVE | J.HARLOW

PAIR: JACK HARLOW X READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

the first time you’ve met jack was in kindergarten. your kindergarten teacher assigned the spots for your class, and you sat with four other people, one of them being jack.

the earliest memory jack had of you was you and your friend heading to the library. while you liked interacting with the class, you also wanted to experience a bit of the quieter side. you and your friend would open the books and look at the illustrations.

this was the same time when he began wearing an eye patch on his right eye, that way he could strengthen his left eye, he believed.

one time you left to the library, and then jack followed your footsteps by raising his hand to ask the teacher the same thing, “miss, may i go to the library?”

“yes jack, you may go.”

after leaving the classroom, one of the students began whispering to another student, “do you think he likes y/n?”

the other student giggled, and began teasing you two whenever you were together.

at recess, you would sit in the swings and read your newly picked out book. the students would ask you to play with them, but you told them that there are other people who want to play. in other words, you weren’t interested in playing ‘tag’ every single day.

jack walked to the swings, but didn’t say a word to you. he didn’t want to disturb you or take a peek at your book. he knew that you stood out compared to the other classmates. you were sweet towards everyone, and you were one of the only people that didn’t make fun of jack. maybe his classmates were right, he did have a crush on you.

the kids, on the other hand, looked by the swings, and one of them shouted out, “jack likes y/n!”

this would then go on for the rest of elementary, but the teasing between you and jack calmed down by the third grade. you knew jack didn’t see you in that manner as well as the students just joking around. you can admit, however, that he was a cute and funny guy.

-

you guys grew up together throughout middle school, and you noticed that jack looked a lot happier than he was in elementary.

it was the time when jack began having a passion of music, and started creating it using stuff he has at home. his first experience into becoming a rapper was in fifth grade, when he tried to sing “fergalicious” at a talent show, but the song was too explicit to perform.

jack would invite you to his little music sessions and play some guitar hero along. it was interesting to see the process, and by the time he finishes, he would burn about forty copies to give to his classmates.

“i think i’ll sell them for 5 dollars.”

“that’s too pricey for some cheesy songs.”

“4?”

“1.”

“too cheap, y/n. i think i’ll go with 2 dollars each.”

“that’s good.”

-

by the end of middle school though, things began to change for you. your parents got a new job, and unfortunately, you had to move to another place. it was unexpected news for you, never telling your friends until later on.

it was upsetting, believing that your high school experience was ruined before stepping a foot inside. but in the bright side though, you had a fresh start in your new place.

jack began to notice your absence during his high school years, but never questioned it until he brought it up in a conversation with his friends.

“hey, what happened to y/n?”

“y/n l/n?” your name was the first thing that came to his friend’s mind.

“yeah. i haven’t seen her since middle school ended.”

“she probably moved to another place, jackman.”

“moved?!” he exclaimed. jack began to picture all of his memories that he had with you. after hearing this, all of his memories began to feel more like dreams and it shattered jack that he might not ever see you again.

-

it’s been ten years since you moved from louisville to [your place]. one day you were bored, and decided to drive to louisville, where you spent most of your childhood.

it took a few hours to drive there and you felt the excitement the moment you read the sign that said ‘welcome to louisville.’

“it’s been a while…” you to mumbled to yourself. you began driving to the area you grew up in, seeing the newly changes that they have in the city. you used the maps app to start heading to the neighborhood you once lived in.

you still couldn’t believe it was a decade since you left the city. it was a huge change for you, now having to start a different high school with new people. it was hard to adjust at first, but people eventually began making talk with you.

you turned off your car, and made sure your car was locked before getting out. you began walking to the neighborhood, seeing the homes and their decorations that they add in their garden and porch.

as you were walking, you saw a man walking towards the same direction as you.

he stood there for a few seconds in order to examine you. “y/n?” the man wondered if it was you.

you had that developed, yet youthful look on your face, and it was quite recognizable for everyone. you flinched, but you then turned around to see the guy.

it was possible that you knew him from school in the past, but you couldn’t put a name on his face.

“do i know you?” you paused to look at his face. he has curly hair, a freshly cut beard, and those blue eyes. he looked familiar until you finally remembered, “wait! you’re jack, right?”

“that’s me.”

“oh my goodness, jack, you scared the fuck out of me!”

“my fault.”

“it’s fine, i just never thought that i’d see you again. it’s been what, ten years?”

“ten fucking years…”

the last time you saw him, he had a very dorky look and had that high pitched voice. you were in shock when you saw how he looks like now.

he pursued his dreams into becoming a rapper and it worked successfully, and that was one thing that didn’t change about jack. another thing that didn’t change was that he still kept the same charm from the prior years.

you asked the typical question that people ask once reunited, “so what are you up to?”

jack gave you a look, and you didn’t blame him, to be fair. you left without saying goodbye or anything. “no, what are you up to?”

“i wanted to drive around louisville, and i honestly miss it here,” you explained. “what about you?”

“just passing by before tour starts.”

you raised a brow, confused on what he meant by ‘tour.’

“tour?”

“a world tour, i’m performing in several countries.”

your eyes widen and gasped, “that’s so amazing jack, you really made it this far!”

“thank you, i couldn’t make it without your support.”

you tilted your head and pouted at him, “really?”

jack smiled, “yeah, really.”

-

you two walked to the park nearby the neighborhood. the park was bigger than you remembered, but that’s because they now added a tennis court and a kiosk.

you and jack sat in a picnic table near the trees, where you began to catch up with each other’s lives. jack put on his sunglasses, as he felt that it was a little too bright today.

with a hand covering your mouth, you laughed at jack, “you’re so dramatic jack.”

jack shrugged, “what can i say? i’ve always been serving it girl.”

you couldn’t take him seriously and continued laughing, “it’s only like 71 degrees, be serious.”

“fine, fine,” jack took off his sunglasses to reveal his blue eyes that you’ve always loved and remembered.

“how lovely you look today,” you sighed.

jack misunderstood what you told him, “i look lonely? i am literally with you!”

you clarified, “lovely, dumbass.”

he awkwardly exclaimed. you were having a fun time within the first minutes with him at the park, laughing at the little things you guys do. it took you back to more than a decade ago, when he would rap about household items to you.

-

there was no one in the park, but you two. you felt at peace alongside jack, just like old times.

the sun was setting, and you started to feel the breeze outside. jack sat next to you to make you feel comfortable, and you rest your head onto his shoulder.

“it feels nice out here,” you tilted your head to look at jack.

“you should visit here more often, you would love it.”

you softly laughed, “like what, singing me about the smell of febreeze?”

“you still remember that?”

“i thought that was the funniest thing you ever did.”

“i have plenty of other songs on my catalog,” he turned on his phone to show you a specific song, “in fact, i wrote this song about you.”

the title track was named after you. you weren’t as active on social media, so you weren’t aware of the music he releases. when the song started playing, you looked at him with fulfillment. you could tell that he dedicated some time in order to write these thoughtful lyrics about you, and the production was well-made.

as soon as the song finished playing, you turned around to see jack. you almost went to tears of joy, not expecting someone like jack to give you such a gift, “this is the nicest thing someone did for me in a long time…”

“all this time i thought i’d never see you again. you’re the person i spent most of my time with back then, and i want that again. you don’t know how much you mean to me and my career. y/n, i want to make things official with you.”

“jack…” you reached in for a kiss and jack leaned in to return the favor. you took your hand and placed it on his cheek, feeling a bit of his soft skin.

“and all of that for me?”

jack replied, “for you.”

you had never thought that you’d be kissing jack and date ten years later. until today, you realized that you hit the lottery with him, considering his large fan base. to jack though, it was love at first sight.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow smut #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fanfic #jack fic #x reader #instagram au #social media au #fluff #smut #angst #urban wyatt #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt imagine #urban wyatt fluff #urban wyatt angst #urban wyatt smut #urban wyatt x y/n #urban wyatt x you #druski #lil nas x

[itsabouttimex2]

Hello there! could we see a prequel of when platonic yandere Erasermic first saw Cloud quirk reader! I feel like the reader wouldn't exactily look like oboro, but then seeing that quirk and having that energetic personality would send the memories of oboro back into there mind

These two mourn Oboro to this day. It’s a major part of both of their characters, woven into their beings. They won’t move on. They can’t forget. So when they see you, something kind of cracks inside them.

Aizawa pauses, and just… stares. His chest tightens painfully, as a deluge of long-buried memories gnaw at his mind. It’s easy to that he’d be the strong one, the stoic one. But he isn’t. He’s a broken man long burdened by grief. It’s clear he hasn’t managed to move on from losing Oboro in the slightest.

However, Hizashi was able to healthily move on to some degree and become a teacher, a DJ, a radio host, a hero. Sure, it’s possible that he uses his exuberance to cope with grief or to draw Aizawa out of his worst moments, but he stills manages to be sunny and bright. All the same, he possesses a well-hidden ruthlessness and an extremely powerful Quirk that he’s not afraid to use. The moment he stops smiling, it’s probably time to run and hide, because something is terribly wrong.

And when he sees you, he stops smiling. There’s a moment where his larger than life personality and cheery disposition both slip, leaving him in a rare state of shocked silence. Hizashi just stands and watches, eyes going wide behind his concealing sunglasses. His gangly arms drop to his sides, his every bit of attention focused on staring you down.

Maybe it’s some kind of cruel joke. Maybe he’s been hit by a Quirk, creating a tailored distraction to keep him from noticing an approaching foe. Maybe he’s just seeing things. But no, he isn’t. You’re real, with his personality and Quirk.

———————————————————————

“Oboro…,” Aizawa mumbles to himself, caught in a similar state to his loudmouth friend. His bloodshot eyes catch on your smile, watching as you chat with a friend. The two of you walk side by side, trails of vapor and fog drifting from your fingertips as you show off your Quirk. Your friend laughs in amazement, watching in awe as the clouds shift into different shapes and figures, bending perfectly to your will.

Once, Oboro had done the same for him. Whenever Aizawa seemed down, he’d whip up a cloud and shape it into the cutest kitten he could manage, often ending up with a horrifically disfigured mess that had his friend stifling a smile.

Words catch in his throat. He can barely think straight. It feels like he can’t even stand.

He stumbles through the halls, making the short trip to his classroom, still empty. He snatches his phone from his pocket, fumbling with it until he has his loud-mouthed on the other end.

“You saw them. I know you did. Why didn’t you… why didn’t you warn me?”

A loud sigh from the other end. “Sorry, Sho. The kid’s in class 1-B, so I figured I’d get the chance to tell you in person. Didn’t think you’d run into them so soon.”

He desperately racks his brain for something to say, some way to respond. Hizashi beats him to it.

“Actually, Nemuri learned before me, and didn’t say a word either. I think she’s a little broken up too, honestly. Least we’re not alone, right?”

At least they’re not alone. Aizawa would agree, but can’t manage to swallow the lump in his throat. He just holds the phone to his ear, wondering if it was a blessing or curse that you didn’t get put in his class.

“They seem like a good kid, Sho. I’m gonna keep an eye out for them.”

“So they don’t end up like Oboro” is the unspoken second half of that last sentence. Voicing it out loud makes it a legitimate fear. Leaving it vague means the image stays vague, the fear stays vague. Just an uncanny feeling of potential danger, rather than outright fear for a child’s mortality.

“You know what, Mic? I think I’ll keep an eye out for the kid too.”

Because he can’t bring himself to relive that scene ever again a child shouldn’t have to worry about getting hurt at UA.

So they’ll look out for you. Nothing strange about it. Nothing serious, no cause for alarm.

Not yet.

#Platonic Yandere #yandere mha #yandere erasermic #yandere shota aizawa #shota aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada

[lcandothisallday]

Wedding Season - Jack Harlow x f!reader

Summary: Jack is invited to an old friend’s wedding and he’s been convinced by his friends to bring the girl he hates as his plus one.

It was a rather chill summer day for Jack. He had gone to the studio earlier in the day which allowed him to have a relaxing rest of the night. So that’s where he was now, chilling in his living room of the apartment he shared with Urban while the both of them ate the takeout they ordered.

Earlier in the month, both boys were invited to an old high school friend’s wedding back in Louisville and neither one of them had the heart to say no despite their busy schedules. Now there was only a couple days until the wedding and Jack felt like an absolute loser for not having a date.

“You bringing anyone to Colton’s wedding?” Jack asked Urban before he scooped up a mouthful of mashed potato to eat.

Urban couldn't help but smile. “You know how I started talking to Nia again?” Jack nodded, showing that he was listening as he chewed. “Yeah...invited her as my plus one...gonna try to make things official with her after the wedding,” he explained.

Jack groaned, “fuck outta here, man. You letting me ride solo on this one?” he half joked in question. Urban only shrugged with a laugh. “Not my fault you ain't got anyone at the moment...or you know...you could always ask y/n to be your date,” he suggested cautiously. 

Upon hearing that, Jack scoffed. “Bro--y’all gotta stop bringing her up I swear,” he muttered. “We have never and will never get along,” he persisted arrogantly.

“She’s Nia’s best friend--”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Jack asked in annoyance. “You just want to get on Nia’s good side but I’m the one that’s gonna end up suffering.”

Urban furrowed his brows before he scoffed. “You’re so fucking dramatic bro. I don't even understand what happened for you to hate her so much,” he tsked. “It’s like you were in love with her one minute during high school--wanting to ask her out for junior prom-- and the next you hated her guts. But whatever man. If you wanna be the hottest rapper out there and still not be able to cop a date then that’s up to you,” he shrugged.

Jack rolled his eyes before he let out a defeated sigh. “I’ll think about it...but no fuckin’ promises,” he mumbled.

__

You stood in front of the mirror, staring and picking apart your appearance in the dress you had chosen for Colton and Grace’s wedding. It was an outdoor wedding and so you dressed in a simple silk-like dress that hugged your body perfectly and the colour complementing your beautiful and glowing skin. Despite knowing you looked good, you couldn’t help but be nervous.

“You need to stop picking apart your look,” Nia spoke up matter of factly, noticing your nerves, as she applied her gloss. She looked absolutely stunning as well, her dress choice also being the most perfect look for her. Urban was going to be hella impressed to say the least.

You let out a sigh. “I’m not I’m just--I don’t understand why Jack asked me to be his plus one,” you frowned. “I feel like it’s some cruel prank,” you mumbled, smoothing down your dress anxiously. 

“Well I mean people change,” Nia pointed out. “So give it a chance. Maybe this is him trying to make amends,” she offered, ever the optimist. “Now come on! We’re gonna be late!” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of your hand before the both of you stumbled out of the apartment with your heels clicking behind you.

As you arrived to the venue, you were in complete awe of the setup. It was beautiful--from the grand archway, down to the details in the flowers that stood as centrepieces on each table. 

You took in a breath as you scanned the venue, noting how you were met with familiar faces from your high school days. “This...is gonna be a long ass day. I can already tell,” you whined, your friend humming in agreement.

“There’s Urban,” Nia breathed out with love struck eyes, causing you to giggle. “Ooooh your man looks good,” you teased, causing her to blush madly. “Shut up,” she mumbled while still blushing. “He’s not officially my man...yet.”

When Urban finally set eyes on you and Nia, he started approaching with Jack dragging behind him reluctantly. Truth be told he was nervous. He hadn’t seen you in quite some time and the last time he spoke to you, it was full of hostility.

Urban immediately pulled Nia aside, whispering in her ear and complimenting her in all the ways he should, leaving you and Jack standing alone.

“Hey,” he mumbled in greeting. “You uh...you look nice...I guess.”

You smile awkwardly and begin to anxiously play around with the rings on your fingers. “Thanks. So do you.”

As the night progressed, the tension between Jack and you seemed to linger in the air. Despite the polite exchanges and forced smiles, there was an underlying current of animosity that couldn't be ignored. It was as if both of you were tiptoeing around a minefield, waiting for the first explosion to occur.

After dinner, the DJ started playing a slow, romantic song, and couples began to take the dance floor. Nia and Urban shared a loving glance before swaying together, lost in their own world. Feeling a mix of discomfort and curiosity, you and Jack found yourselves standing near each other.

Jack cleared his throat. “Do you want to dance?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not really,” you responded quietly, causing Jack to audibly scoff. “God you’re such a bitch,” he muttered, running his hands through his curls. “I don’t know why I’m even trying.”

Your eyes widened as you took full offence. “I’m the bitch?! Oh I’m sorry for not wanting to dance with the guy who’s always been an asshole to me! If I remember correctly--you’re the one who blocked me out of the blue!”

“Don’t act like you don’t know why y/n.”

You scoffed. “Actually why don’t you enlighten me because I don’t remember ever doing anything to you to make you hate me so much! I liked you and I thought the feelings were mutual—”

“They were until I overheard you telling your friends you thought I was ugly and that I was stupid for trying to pursue a rap career,” he mumbled.

Hearing that made your heart sink to your stomach. “Jack,” you sighed. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you say softly. “Because I didn’t actually mean any of that—”

“Then why did you say it?” he asked, his voice quiet and almost quivering. “I really fucking liked you and I know I always played it off like I’m a confident motherfucker but that crushed me.”

Your heart absolutely broke at hearing his confession. “Oh Jack—I only said that because Tina was a bitch and she noticed you and me getting closer and she started saying that someone as likeable and popular as you wouldn’t romantically go for someone like me. She also said that the two of you had started hooking up and it wasn’t long before you would’ve started dating so I had to back off and the only way to protect myself in front of her was to make it seem like I never cared about you from the start,” you explained softly.

“She’s a liar. I never fucked around with her like that—”

“Yeah well how was I supposed to know?! She was the blonde skinny popular white girl—and I was me—I guess it just made sense to me,” you sighed.

Jack groaned, “well that was up to me to decide don’t y’a think? God—I just wish you would’ve just told me or something.”

“Yeah well can’t change the past now,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath but loud enough for him to hear.

Jack licked his lips in thought before a small smirk started to make its way onto his lips. “You’re right…but we can definitely influence the future,” he hummed, taking your hand and pulling you onto the dance floor.

The slow romantic song was still playing so he took the opportunity to take both your hands and place them on his broad shoulders before his own rested against your hips, leading the dance with gentle sways.

Your cheeks were on fire at the entire interaction, but you welcomed it easily, thankful that he was the one that was able to take charge.

The both of you swayed in silence, you choosing to look anywhere but his eyes while he stared intently at you, loving the chance to admire you up close.

“Jack…I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” you whispered, the guilt eating you alive.

“I don’t think I stressed enough earlier how beautiful you look,” he mused, looking down at you with his charming smile.

You can’t help your own smile making its way onto your lips. “Jack.”

“Y/N,” he mocked back teasingly.

“I was being serious!” you laughed.

Jack rolled his eyes playfully. “Isn’t it obvious that I forgive you already?” he asked with a raised brow, his hands giving your hips a squeeze.

You shrugged. “Just want the confirmation.”

“If you let me kiss you would that be enough confirmation?”

“Yes,” you whispered timidly, a blush overtaking your cheeks.

As the words left your lips, Jack wasted no time in closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. And then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted into the embrace, the animosity of the past melting away with every lingering touch. The world around you faded into the background as Jack deepened the kiss, his other hand finding its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and with flushed cheeks, Jack rested his forehead against yours, a contented smile gracing his lips. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A genuine smile spread across your face as you looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "I wish I had been honest with you from the beginning," you confessed. "But I promise, I'll make it up to you."

Jack's smile widened, and he brushed his thumb gently across your cheek. "I believe you," he said softly. "We both made mistakes, but we can start fresh--starting with a proper first date?"

“I’d like that a lot.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x you #jack harlow blurbs #jack harlow fic #jackharlow #jack harlow x y/n

[thedeviltohisangel]

Spook and John have my 🫶🏼. Maybe for a prompt “who did this to you” John asking Spook? I just think with her background as a spy and his protective nature, it fits them!! Can’t wait for more 🙌🏻

All The Things I Did (Interlude): I'm Such a Fool

a/n: broke my own heart with this one. introduced a very curious dynamic with harding, a little bit of solo cass and a few little fluff crumbs so you all don't hate me too much. send romance/fluff/ post-war spook and bucky??? prompts to ease my soul. i'll be waiting to chat...

The moment Colonel Harding was the one behind her office door and there was no smile on his face or flirtatious joke on his tongue, Cass knew. 

“Anyone?” 

“Rosenthal’s crew just landed. I was on my way to interrogation.” Her heart was struggling to know what to do. Seize with sadness over the loss. Hammer in her chest to keep her mind moving. Slow down so she could have a moment to think. 

“I’m coming with you.”

----

She sat silently while they went through each plane until they got to the one John had been on. The tapping of her toes only sped up when the navigator announced he saw ten chutes. “About where was that drop, Lieutenant?” The men looked over at her, Colonel Harding already gathering his breath to tell her to stand down.

“Somewhere over Westphalia, maybe, ma’am. It was…I’m sorry I don’t have anything more specific.”

“It will do just fine, Lieutenant. Thank you.” Cass tucked her notebook, she hadn’t even opened it, under her arm and barely made it out the door when Harding started calling after her.

“Cassandra! Lieutenant!” She kept walking, knowing exactly what he was going to say and knowing with certainty she was not going to listen. “Lieutenant Egan!” That made her pause.

“Who told you that?” She kept her back to him. She wasn’t sure quite yet what game he was playing.

“You don’t think your counterparts were keeping an eye on you over there?” She rolled her eyes. Men and their egos.

“Your feelings about the situation are irrelevant, Colonel. I have work to do.” Cass was going to grab her bag and go get John. 

“You’re grounded, Lieutenant. You try to leave this base and I’ll have you shipped back to the States on the next available flight.”

“Then good thing the OSS answers directly to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Colonel.” 

----

“You shouldn’t be here so soon, Ingrid.” Cass had spent the night in an emergency safe house close to her drop site before setting off to the nearest town where Peter lived, her contact she paid to help get around Germany. Ingrid was the name he knew her by.

“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t for a good reason.” She looked around the beer hall, empty at this time of day. “I’m looking for a pilot. American. Dropped over here a day or two ago.” Peter got quiet and stopped moving the rag over the bartop. 

“Ingrid, asking about American pilots is very dangerous around here.” Her fingers flexed tightly around the glass of untouched beer she had politely paid him for. Tipped double.

“You don’t need to take me to him. I just need to know how to find him on the way to Stalag Luft.” 

“Two men were here this morning on their way to pick up bodies.” 

“Bodies?” 

“They have a spot in the middle of the woods where they bury them.” Cass closed her eyes and fought to maintain composure. There was no chance John was dead. She would have felt it. She would know in her soul. 

And when she rode the horse Peter lent her to that clearing and she saw a lifeless body lying directly in the sun like God himself wanted her to find it, she almost started to think he was gone. 

“John?” She practically fell from the horse as she realized it was him. Dropping to her knees, she grunted as she rolled him over. Her breath stopped when she got a good look at his face. Cass felt around frantically for a pulse and almost cried when she felt one thrumming against her fingertips. “Baby, you got to wake up.” She deduced he had run away from the men that were here to bury a pile of American bodies. It meant that it was only a matter of time before they either found them or sent for German soldiers. 

John thinks he heard her voice. Thinks he felt her presence above him. Thinks that meant he was dead. 

“Cass,” he moaned. His head wasn’t supposed to hurt this bad if he was dead. “Please.” Please just take me away from here, he was asking. Take me somewhere where I can be with you again.

“It’s me. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here.” There was no chance she was going to be able to get him on the horse without his help. She draped his arm over her shoulder, his head lolling weightlessly into the crook of her neck. 

“You’re real.” 

“We have to get you up, okay? Can you help me, Johnny?” Her arm wrapped securely around his waist, steadying herself to lift. With a grunt she pushed up but only made it a few steps before she collapsed under his dead weight and hit the forest floor. She rubbed her knuckles as hard as she could against his chest in an attempt to wake him back up. “Come on, come on.” He coughed a little and his eyes fluttered open completely. 

“Cass…you can’t…be here.” She ignored him, propping him up into a sitting position and readying herself to lift him once again. “Cass, please. Go.”

“Not without you.” She had him. They were so close. She couldn’t go back now. 

“I love you, Cassandra Ann Egan.” He was saying it like it was goodbye. She wanted to respond. She wanted to cry and scream. Wanted to burn the entire world down for getting her here but not letting her have it.  Have him. But the sound of a gun cocking and a cold barrel placed to the back of her head made her freeze.

“Get away from the prisoner.” Cass willed herself to think of a way out of this. There was no way this could be the end.

“You want to point a gun at someone, point it at me.” John was sitting up straighter now. Adrenaline reaching all parts of his body. His instinct to protect simmering inside him. He reached for Cass’ arm in an attempt to drag her behind him.

“I found him bleeding while riding out to the market. Was only trying to help.” She slowly stood with her hands up, the gun lowered when the officer heard the German words coming out of her mouth. Keep talking, keep diffusing, keep distracting. 

“He’s coming with us, no need for your help.” For his part, John was using the tree he had been leaning against to pull himself up. He got his wish, the guns right back up and in his direction. 

“You get on that horse and you get somewhere safe.” He was pleading with her. Have never asked her for anything since he met her but was asking her for this. To give him the peace of mind that she was safe. 

“Ingrid, there you are!” Cass looked in horror as Peter entered into the clearing. “You’ll have to pardon her, sirs. She gets lost sometimes.” The two men from the carriage had returned to the beer hall to radio the local security forces. Unable to stop his curiosity, he had followed them to make sure she was alright.

“Enough!” One of the soldiers drew back his gun and brought it down on John’s back, his legs giving out and causing him to drop to his knees. She lurched forward with a scream, Peter grabbing her and pulling her back.

“Stop! Let me go!” 

“Get your hands off of her you son of a-” Another blow, the wind knocked out from him this time. She kicked at Peter’s legs but his grip only tightened as he began to drag her away. 

“John! John!” she screamed as tears flowed down her face. 

“Let her go! Don’t fucking touch her-Cass!” He crawled a few feet in the direction she was being dragged, kicking and screaming and writhing with the pain of leaving him behind. The next blow knocked him out cold.

----

He was certain she was dead. Certain that that was the last he would ever see of her. John had wanted to ask the interrogator. He had shown a grainy image of Cass, called her The Little Sparrow, and asked if he knew her. Knew her real name. Location. He had only smirked. That was his girl. John knows she would have been all too happy to know just how far under their skin she was. He had half a mind to ask the guards to kill him too on his way to the cell. What was the point if she wasn’t there to get home to? To fulfill the life they were foolish enough to let themselves dream about. 

Seeing Buck and the boys numbed him for a little bit. But then Buck asked about London. Asked if John had finally told Cass he loved her. If they had made plans for when this was all over. The words were lodged in John’s throat. He wanted to tell Buck he had told her he loved her over and over again. That she had finally said she loved him back. Endlessly. That they had felt in their guts they were running out of time so they had found their way to a bombed out Abbey and made it all official. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk about the good times.

“Major John Egan.” A guard appeared in the doorway. “You’ve been called back to interrogation.” He had been here a couple of days but knew enough it didn’t sound like a positive. Cass had told him of her encounters with the Gestapo. Maybe they had learned of his connection to her. Maybe that were going to try and torture the truth out of him. 

The guard led him out into the yard, passed the nicer huts where the Germans stayed and toward the remote corner where more housing was being built. It was starting to look more like a good spot for an execution. At least he would see her again. 

“Do I get my last rites?” he asked as he was ordered to stop. There was not a single other soul in sight. 

“Five minutes.” The guard walked away and John looked around in confusion. Maybe he could try and climb the fence. Maybe he could-

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for my husband.” Oh. 

“What kind of husband leaves a wife as ethereal as you all by her lonesome?” There was a chain link fence separating them but she was there. She was alive and she was there. “I thought I’d lost you.” Cass’ fingers curled into the fence and resting her head on the cool metal, his skin finding hers in one of the openings. 

“Me too. But we’ve been fucking with all plans the Germans have for us, haven’t we?” He smiled and wished he could touch her more fully. Wished he could kiss her and twirl her hair around his finger and feel the rise and fall of her breath against his chest.

“We should never have left London,” he whispered. 

“We’ll get back there-” Her words paused as she sucked in a breath of pain. John gripped the fence tighter. She lifted her shirt and John noticed a deep purple bruise along her ribcage. “Definitely broken,” she wheezed.

“Someone do that to you?” 

“You’re not supposed to be worrying about me, John.”

“Who did this to you?” 

“I had a run in with a guard on my way in. He propositioned me and didn’t like that I turned him down.”

“Would you be mad if I killed him?” There was no humor in his tone. His request for her permission was actual. 

“I don’t want you in here any longer than you already are. We made a lot of plans we have to follow through on.” Cass couldn’t help the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. 

“I owe you a real wedding,” she hummed in agreement, “some little Bucky’s and little Spook’s,” she leaned in as close as she could, “and that house by the ocean.” She had talked about a house she walked by every summer as a little girl. Thought it was a castle and dreamt of living there with her books and her farm dogs and her own family. Bucky was going to buy it for her if it was the last thing he ever did. 

“I’m going to visit as much as I can. I’ll write to you everyday.” She had noticed the guard approaching again. Their time together was coming to a close. “I love you more than anything else in the entire world,” she said the words as if they were the most sacred. After John had jumped the gun with his feelings weeks ago, she had made him work for the words to be echoed back. He was more addicted to her love than cigarettes.

“I love you, too, Cass. Promise me you’ll always know that. No matter how long it takes for me to get back to you.” 

“I’ll be right here waiting for you. I promise.” Their lips met in one of the diamond gaps, both of them trying to portray everything they felt in the soul. 

“Time’s up.” 

“Let me look at you. Just one more minute.” He wanted to be sure he was able to commit her to memory. Every little detail. Didn’t want to forget a single beauty mark. A single scar. The curve of her top lip or the way her eyelashes looked when they fluttered closed. 

“Now, Major.” The grip on his arm was firm, John practically being dragged away as Cass just pressed herself closer and closer into the fence. He never took his eyes off of her, silently mouthing his love for her one last time before he was around the corner and she was out of his sight. 

“Do me a favor, sir?” The guard stopped and looked at him. “Point me in the direction of the guard that put his hands on my wife.”

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfiction #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner fanfic

[chestharrington]

Adult Education || Part Two

Summary: Weeks into your newfound routine with Steve, you decide to shake things up a bit. It'll be fun and casual, right?

Couple: Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader (GN Pronouns)

Category: Smut/Fluff

Content Warning: graphic smut, slight voyeurism, fingering, handjobs, awkward depictions of visiting a sex shop, slight drug use

Word Count: 7.5k

Requests: Open!

Robin was extremely tired of your bullshit. Both of you. The giggly calls to Family Video— “Hey Robin! Can you put Steve on the phone?”— and the way neither of you was very subtle about your “secret” meetups. She wasn’t even sure they were supposed to be secret anymore. 

And Steve was almost worse. He’d spilled everything to Robin, and he still tried to act like what was happening between the two of you “wasn’t a big deal.” Which was dumb, because it very clearly was to him. 

And you… she couldn’t quite read you. Sure, you seemed to like whatever was going on between the two of you, or you wouldn’t have giggly, super long phone calls with Steve on the days you weren’t following him around like a lost puppy. Those days were maybe the most insufferable. The inside jokes, the banter. She just wanted to know if you two were an item so she could stop feeling so left out. 

She swirled a fork through her lunch, which had been poorly reheated over break. With a glance towards Steve, whose head was glumly rested in his hands, she spoke up. “No call from your sweetie pie?” She teased. 

“Nah,” Steve sighed, before catching Robin’s underlying meaning. He furrowed his brows, annoyed. “Don’t say anything.”

“I will be saying something, Harrington, because I am sick of you two dancing around your obvious attraction to one another!” She said finally, pushing her lunch away. “How do you think this is all gonna turn out, smart guy?”

He sighed, and she could tell he was thinking about it— really thinking about it. It almost made her feel bad for pressing the matter. 

“What if this is the closest I’ll ever get to being with them?” He finally asked with an alarming amount of earnestness. Robin sighed, her lips turning down into a frown. Oh, Steve. “Like, I  could technically tell them ‘Hey, by the way, I want to kiss you and take you out on dates and make sweet, sweet love to you pretty much every waking moment,’ but I could scare them away. I could lose them so easily.” He sighed, looking like he wished he could shove all those words right back inside. “Anyways, if this is the only way I can be with them, I’ll take it.”

Robin sighed. “You’re selling yourself short, Steven. Ten bucks says when they walk in this door later today, they go straight to you.”

———

You walked into the video store like you belonged there, much to Keith’s chagrin. 

“No.” The word escaped him firmly. “No, you’re leaving. You can’t just treat this store like some sort of hang-out spot.”

You pouted, leaning against the doorframe. “Keith,” you whined. “C’mon, man, I’m here for an actual rental this time.” He looked at you pointedly, so you made a show of heading for the science fiction section. “See! A New Hope.” You held it up and approached the counter. “That’s all I wanted.”

He looked at you skeptically, brow raised. “And, uh, I wanted to simply invite Robin and Steve to join in on my family movie night, but, uh, I can always go to Video Village and rent from there.” You raised a brow, testing him, and he sighed.

“They’re on break out back. Rent first, talk after.”

You sighed, slapping a few bills on the counter. He seemed to take his sweet time counting the money and distributing change. You tapped your foot impatiently until he finally slid the VHS and change over the counter. “Alright, knock yourself out.”

You grinned, grabbed your tape, and dashed past him into the back rooms where the rear exit was. As soon as the heavy door slammed open, you heard panicked coughing and whispered curses. You grinned, shutting the door behind you.

“It’s not Keith, don’t worry,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the very pungent smell of pot. “Knock yourselves out.” Steve pulled you into his side, taking a quick hit before passing the joint to Robin. He turned his head to blow out the smoke, then looked down at you through half-lidded eyes. “Hey,” he said with a dopey grin. “Took you long enough.”

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I’m house-sitting for the nice little old couple next door. And I’m a total professional, so I had to water a few plants and get some mail before I could come see my favorite people.”

Robin coughed unceremoniously, fanning the air around her face. “Keith see you?” She took a long pull and exhaled with a contented sigh, too stoned to care if Keith knew they were smoking in the alleyway.

“Yeah,” you replied with an eye roll. “Weird fucker hates me. I had to rent a tape or I wouldn’t have been allowed in.” You held up the VHS to drive home your point and she giggled. 

“Aww, you rented Star Wars to see me?” Steve said with a wide smile. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with an eye roll. “Don’t let it get to your head.” Your cheeks felt warm as both Robin and Steve’s gazes fixed on you, like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

You felt your cheeks burn hotter as you mumbled the reason you really showed up. “Oh, and, uh, my parents want to invite you both for dinner and a movie tomorrow, so, like… come over after you get off, okay?” 

The words came out rushed and jumbled. There were only so many times you could make excuses about sleeping over at Robin’s or bring up something funny Steve had said before your parents wanted to insert themselves in the middle. The offer to host them seemed less like a friendly invitation and more like an order. 

“Sweet!” Robin said with a giddy smile. “Your parents’ cooking is bomb. Like, that time I came over to study and your dad made us omelets? Oh my god, is he making omelets again?” 

“I think it’s, uh, pasta tomorrow,” you replied, which seemed to please Robin more, if possible. You turned to Steve with a furrow in your brows, watching him take a pull from the joint with keen fascination. He had a pretty mouth. He caught you looking after he’d exhaled, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. 

You stammered. “Is— uh— is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, yeah sounds good.” His gaze was intense. No breaking eye contact, no shifting his eyes, just… looking at you. “Is that good for you?”

“The pasta?” You asked with a tilt of your head. He nodded. “Yeah, Steve, pasta’s good for me too.” He smiled wide before pressing his lips to the top of your head. He was so warm, not just physically, which was usually true, but in his entire being. You just felt good when you were with him. 

Robin’s watch beeped loudly and she sighed, taking the joint back from Steve so she could have the last hit. “Break’s over dingus. I’ll see ya inside.” She dropped it on the ground and stubbed it out with her oxfords before reaching in her bag and spraying some sort of cheap perfume all over herself. You frowned at the overwhelming smell of what could’ve been your nana’s old perfume wafting your direction as she left. 

Alone with Steve, you felt the intensity of his closeness practically double. “Uh, I had a good time last night,” you said softly. “I think that old guy was right. Pleasure Olympics might just be in my top three.”

Steve laughed so hard his shoulders shook and you smiled up at him. “God. Never bring up that old guy ever again. What’s the point of guys that old watching porn? Half the time their dicks don’t work anyway.” 

You groaned, nudging him with your shoulder. “Ew, Steve. You should have some empathy. That could totally be you someday.” 

He shook his head incredibly insistently, like he’d seen into the future already. “No, because my dick is going to work forever, obviously.” He wrinkled his nose at his own words like he wished he could take them back immediately. “On that note, I need to go act sober and rent some movies to people.”

You grabbed his arm before he turned to go, keeping him near you. “Come over after your shift? I wanna check this place out and I’m too nervous to go alone.”

He nodded quickly, a smile spreading across his features. “Yes!” He said eagerly. He coughed, cleared his throat, and amended his tone. “I mean— Yeah, okay. Sounds good, I’ll, uh… I’ll pick you up?”

You nodded, chewing your lip to contain your excitement. “Yeah, it’s a date, Stevie. You’ll love it, I promise.”

He looked like he wanted to melt as he nodded, smiling sweetly down at you. “I uh…” He trailed off, blinking a few times. With one hand, he gestured vaguely to the metal back door of Family Video. “Videotapes.”

You giggled, trying your best to fight a grin as you nodded. “Yep. Go get ‘em big guy. I’ll see you later, alright?”

He nodded, turned directly into the door, swore under his breath, and slipped back inside. 

———

At precisely three fifteen in the afternoon, Steve was outside of your house, practically vibrating in his seat with anticipation. He watched you walk out the front door, turn to wave to your father, who was seeing you off, and hurry towards the passenger seat. 

“Hey, Stevie,” you greeted as you slid into the car, smiling over at him. “Ready to go?”

“I, uh, I don’t even know where we’re going,” he said, almost nervously.

You patted his arm and grinned. “Get on the highway going eastbound and take the third exit, alright? Trust me on this.” He nodded and peeled off, his tires screeching against the suburban asphalt. You sighed, leaning back against the seat. His car always smelled like his cologne, and you happily took a deep breath as you turned to look at him. 

He didn’t notice for a while, until he caught you out of the corner of his eye. At a stop sign, he furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve liked hanging with you lately, that’s all.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Like, we were friends before and that was cool and everything, but now—“ He was cut off by the car behind him honking repeatedly, urging him to just go already. “Shit.” 

You looked at him expectantly. “But now…?” You trailed off, hoping he’d pick up where he left off. 

“I guess now things are just better.” You nodded, turned on the stereo, and put your feet on the dash.

Better was the perfect way to describe it. You were still both… you, but you were more than that. Never in your entire life had you felt more comfortable being vulnerable with someone. You liked that every free moment, you were both jumping at the chance to be together. 

How long had it been since you’d had that?

The rest of the car ride was brief— your destination wasn’t exactly far. You told him when to exit, and directed him into the parking lot. He swallowed as he parked, looking up at the sign that placed a shadow on his car. 

Lion’s Den: XXX Movies, Toys for Lovers, And More!

“No,” he said firmly, meeting your gaze. “I’m not… no way.”

You put on your prettiest smile and leaned across the center console. “C’mon, Steve, I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but… I mean, what if someone recognizes me inside?” His pretty brown eyes were wide, his lips turned into a nervous frown. You wanted to just squeeze his face with your hand, for some reason. You decided not to think about that too much. 

“We’re three exits outside of Hawkins, and if anyone recognizes you, they’ll have to explain why they’re here too, right?” You smiled victoriously. “Can’t call you out for being a pervert when they’re one themselves.”

“What did you need here again?” He asked as he got out of the car, finding it incredibly impossible to tell you no. 

You shrugged, slamming the car door. “Just felt like exploring with my best pal, Steve Harrington. Who knows, we might find something fun.”

He walked right on your heels as you entered the store, waving an awkward greeting to the man behind the counter as he followed you within. The walls were lined with sexy everything. Lingerie, books, movies, toys. You didn’t really know where to start.

“Lingerie first?” You asked, nodding towards the racks and racks of lace, velvet, and silk. He nodded wordlessly, his cheeks a burning red. You had to chew on your lip to keep from laughing— it was just too adorable. 

He stood respectfully beside you as you flipped through the rack, holding up the occasional teddy or babydoll gown for his appraisal. He just blinked a few times, opened and closed his mouth, then nodded. It was like that for each and everything you showed him. 

“Steve, you’re not really being a big help,” you chided with a playful grin.

“I can hardly think right now,” he mumbled, running his fingers over white silk on the rack. It felt so soft that he wanted to buy it for you then and there just so he could imagine you wearing it. “Is it hot in here?” He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat a few times. “I’m really hot right now.”

“Hey, breathe, okay?” You said, holding onto his arm. He really was burning up under your touch. “No one else is here except the guy behind the counter, and I’m sure he’s seen crazier stuff than two twenty-somethings browsing the wares.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I can be cool about this.” He swallowed as you turned back to the shelves and grabbed a pale blue babydoll with lace around the edges. You turned to face him and held it up to yourself, raising a brow. 

“What do you think?”

He wanted to pass out. He could imagine you in it so easily— how the silk would feel on your skin, the way the lace would fall around your thighs and tits. He could especially imagine peeling it off of you, how warm it would be from touching you. He felt his dick twitch, trapped uncomfortably in his tight jeans. God, he wished he’d had some sort of notice so he could’ve worn some sweats or something. Or, actually, that probably would’ve been worse for him.

“I think you should buy that one,” he said quickly. He grabbed the soft white teddy and pushed it towards you. “And this one too.” You smiled prettily up at him, and he wanted to propose marriage or eternal love on the spot. He’d follow you anywhere— into certain danger, into hell, or even into a sleazy sex shop. 

And then came the toys. His mouth felt dry as he watched you peering at the shelves, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips. Some of them were big… and lifelike. You took one in your hands and he wanted to whimper. Your painted nails wrapped around the silicon, not even making it all the way around. Your hand looked so fucking small. 

And you giggled, a bright, pretty sound and he wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. Become one more stain that the store’s patrons had left. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered, wielding it like a gun toward him. He made himself laugh, but it was clearly forced. You replaced it on the shelf and went back to browsing.

“Yeah, super ridiculous,” he said, his mouth feeling even drier. They really should’ve had water stations around places like this. “Uh, what about that one?” He pointed towards the top shelf and you laughed, reaching on your tiptoes to bring it down. 

“Steve,” you said with disbelief. “This would kill me.”

“What?” He asked, brows furrowed. “No, that’s literally just like mine and I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Stevie, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your dick is not the size of my forearm,” you said. You placed the toy against yourself and the tip hit above your navel. “See. That wouldn’t even feel good.” You hopped to place it right back on the shelf and began perusing again. 

He wanted to scoff, or something and defend his ego, but it was useless. You’d literally seen what he was packing, and while you were impressed, you weren’t a liar. You gasped victoriously and turned to face him, holding a smaller, but still above-average dildo. 

“This is about where you’re at, right?” You asked rhetorically.  Because, y’know… you knew. You held it right where you’d held the other and nodded approvingly. “See, this isn’t going to bruise my organs or anything, but it would still feel good.”

Steve nodded, biting down on his tongue until he feared he would bleed. There was no way you didn’t realize what you were doing. “So that’s like… the ideal?”

You looked at him pointedly. “Don’t fish for compliments, Stevie,” you said as you brought the box for that toy down, turning it over in your hands. “Anyways, I think I might actually buy this one.” You paused, meeting his gaze curiously. “That’s not weird or anything, right? Since I kind of compared this one to you.”

He swallowed. He wanted to say that it wasn’t weird and that actually made him want you to buy it more and that he wanted to watch you use it. But instead, he just shook his head. “Not weird,” he said weakly. That was the best he could do. 

You smiled, holding your wares in your arms as you continued to browse. He followed you closely, placing his chin on top of your head when you came to a stop at some of the tapes. 

“See anything you like, Steve?” You asked, turning your head to peer back at him. 

Yes. Yes. You’re literally right in front of me. He didn’t know what to say or how to explain that he was so hard he couldn’t even focus on the VHS tapes, despite them having tons of naked girls on the cover. All he could think about was you. 

The door swung open, startling him, and he pressed himself into you, trying to hide his obvious boner from the new shoppers. You froze, unable to ignore the feeling of him hard against your back.

Oh. It wasn’t like you weren’t hoping it would happen, but you figured he might be able to contain himself until you were in the car so you could park somewhere and get off together. But he was desperate behind you, a shaky moan escaping him as you shifted where you stood. 

“Steve,” you said softly, covering his hands where they gripped your hips. “If you trust me, I’ll take care of you.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice weak in the back of his throat. 

You shoved the toy and lingerie onto a shelf that you completely intended to return to later and grabbed his hand, guiding him into the back of the store. In the hall by the bathrooms, there was another room, completely dark and lined with booths. 

“What are we—?” He was cut off by you opening the door and nodding him inside. It was like a cheap school bathroom stall, except there was a TV that took quarters. “Oh.”

“Got change?” You asked, patting his wallet in his pocket. He was so lucky that he tucked himself to the other side or he might have cum then and there. He nodded, grabbing his wallet nervously as he took out at least two dollars worth of quarters to feed into the machine. “Alright, pick your movie, Stevie.”

Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling the hot skin beneath, tracing each dip and curve along his abdomen and sides. He gave a shaky breath. With eager hands, he pressed a random button. He didn’t give a shit about dirty movies when you had your hands on his body. 

Moans filled the small space as the movie clips played, but you took your time feeling him. Your fingers brushed over his chest, nails combing through the thatch of hair there. You sighed contentedly, breath hot against his back. 

“This okay?” You asked softly, moving your hands back down his body. “I know it’s against our rules, but—

“Fuck, fuck, it’s okay. It’s so okay,” he gasped, his hands balled into fists, pressed above his head on the wall to keep him upright and from crumbling beneath your touch. 

A string of curses escaped his lips as your fingers found his belt and made quick work of it. The buckle jingled as it slipped free of one of the loops, forgotten as you unbuttoned and unzipped him. 

He was warm beneath your touch, almost on fire. You pushed his briefs down just enough to free his cock, relishing in the gratified moan he released as you took him into your hand. 

You stood on your tiptoes, nuzzling against his neck to press a soft kiss there. His skin tasted of sweat and cologne. “This feel okay?” You asked, slicking up his length with the precum that was practically leaking from him. He nodded, his breath heavy and coming in pants. “Good. I want it to feel good for you Stevie.”

Your free hand wandered beneath his shirt, nails raking along warm, damp skin. You would be lying if you said you weren’t hot yourself— sweat beading at the back of your neck.

He thrust into your hand, desperate and needy. You soothed him with a kiss to the back of his neck, whispering against his skin. “Shhh… I’ve got you.” You pressed another open-mouthed kiss to his neck, letting your teeth graze him. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

He cried out as your thumb swept across the head of his dick, not even caring if anyone else was listening despite feeling so shy earlier. You were good. So good that he wanted to simultaneously thank and kill whoever you’d touched before to be so fucking good at jerking him off. 

This was Steve Harrington, king of the hook-up, founder of skull rock— and he was terrified he was going to cum after hardly any action at all. He just wanted you so bad. The mere act of you touching him set every cell in his body aflame. 

“You’re so good, Steve,” you said softly, remembering how he’d reacted to your praise that first night. Now was as good a time as any to put that detail to the test. “So big, can barely fit my hand around you. See how little my hand is compared to your cock?”

He swore breathily. He’d never heard you talk like that once. 

“So big and so pretty for me. The prettiest guy I’ve ever seen.” You pressed another kiss to his neck. “Cum for me, Stevie. I wanna feel you cum while I’m touching you.

He was done for. With a string of moans, he came hard, ropes of pearly white painting the walls of the booth. It was gross if you thought about it, but you were too hung up on his pretty moans and the feel of him twitching in your hands to care. He thrust shallowly into your grip as you guided him through his finish, groaning at the way you squeezed him slightly before letting go.

“God, that was hot,” you said with a grin, meeting his gaze as he turned around, blushing deeply as he tucked himself back into his pants. “Was that all okay?”

He nodded, chest still heaving. “It was great.”

You grinned. “Great,” you echoed. “I should go clean up.” You held up your hand, glazed with his cum, and he grimaced, clearly apologetic. 

“God, I’m sorry, that’s—“

“Steve, it’s fine. I told you I thought it was hot, and I wasn’t kidding,” you said firmly. “Stay here while I clean up, then we’ll do our walk of shame together.” You paused, glancing around the booth. “Actually, you might want to wash your hands too.”

———

Back on the highway, Steve’s knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the wheel. You toyed with the plastic handles on the little black bag in your lap, the crinkling sound drowning out Wham on the radio. 

“Where are we gonna park?” Steve asked suddenly, turning to glance in your direction. 

“Park?” You asked, a furrow between your brows. “Why are we parking?”

An awkward laugh slipped past his lips. “Uh, because you didn’t cum.” His expression was earnest— the sweetest puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen. It was sweet that he wanted you to experience as much pleasure as you did. But your silence on the matter made his cheeks turn pink with sheepishness. “You bought that fake dick so I thought you wanted to… I dunno… use it, I guess?”

At his words, your mouth dropped open in realization. “Oh,” you replied. An uncomfortable laugh escaped you. “No… Stevie, I’m not going to fuck myself with a sex toy in your car.”

“Oh… I mean… yeah that, uh, makes sense.” He paused. “Do you want to like… fuck yourself with it somewhere else? I think there’s a blanket in my trunk if you want to go to Skull Rock, or—“

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t want a public indecency charge.”

He nodded, trying to stay nonchalant. “Yeah. Duh. Of course.” He set his mouth in a firm line, and you figured it was his way of stopping himself from saying anything else. “Yeah, just forget I asked.”

You sighed as he turned up the radio, humming along to the Beastie Boys. It was obvious that he was dejected from the way his brows furrowed, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. 

“It wasn’t a no, Steve,” you said gently, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s a ‘not in public.’”

He perked up, eyes wide with surprise as he met your gaze, taking in the sight of your growing smile. “It’s— It’s not a no?”

You shook your head firmly. “Can you swing by mine tonight? Late?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.”

———

Steve parked in front of your neighbor’s house, knowing that they were gone and wouldn’t mind. There was a skip in his step as he made his way along the lawn, already seeing dim light glowing from your window. He stopped just shy of the glass, peering in at the sight of you standing in front of the mirror, running your hands along your body. Blue silk covered your skin, the lace hem stopping just barely below your ass. 

His breath caught in his throat as he watched your hands wander over your tits, nails dimpling skin and lace. You smiled at your own reflection, then slipped the straps off, allowing the gown to pool at your feet. 

“Holy shit.” The words slipped out without him actually meaning to say them as he looked at your naked body in the dim lamplight. He felt his length twitch with need, desire stirring within. 

The curves of your body twisted as you stretched, arms reaching above your head, elongating your spine. The fall of your shoulders told him you had sighed as you turned, picking up the white silk teddy he’d chosen from where it laid against the bed. 

If anyone were to walk by, they would’ve thought he was a peeping tom or something. Fuck. That’s exactly what he was doing. 

You slipped on the teddy slowly, observing your body from each side with a furrow in your brow. Your hands smoothed out the fabric carefully, and he swallowed hard. 

The white fabric was thin and skimpy— he could see everything he wanted to through it. And even though you were just naked, the sight of you in sheer lingerie was even more erotic. 

You smiled at your reflection before you turned, laying down on the bed, your knee bent just slightly.  The lamplight cast a pretty glow over your skin as you tossed your head back, your hands wandering along your breasts, then between your legs. 

His cock pulsed in his jeans, uncomfortably tight for the second time that day, all because of you. He couldn’t help but let his hands brush over the obvious bulge he was sporting. A shaky groan escaped him before he thought better of it. You paused, but seemed to brush off the noise as the wind. 

He couldn’t help himself. Watching you through the glass— the unhurried, lazy way you sought pleasure—was enough to make him feel like a live wire. He rubbed his denim-clad length, swallowing as you threw your head back against the pillows, arching your back slightly. He squeezed, the pressure so good but not near enough. 

He popped the button of his jeans, unzipping just enough to fit his hand. He moaned at the feel of his hand around his cock, chest heaving with restraint. You sat up suddenly at the noise, turning to the window. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly zipping and adjusting his pants. “Shit.”

“Stevie?” Your voice was muffled by the glass, but he made it out clear as day. You hopped off the bed and leaned against the sill, the silk blousing enough that he could see straight through to your tits. He swallowed hard, tearing his gaze from the fucking incredible sight to meet your eyes. “You been there long?”

You made quick work of the window, tugging it up to allow him in. He peered at you from outside, his eyes wide and sheepish. “Uh, no,” he said quickly. “Not long.”

You grinned, nodding for him to come inside. “Alright, pervert,” you teased. “Get in here quick before someone calls the cops.”

He practically leaped over the window-sill, landing with a soft thud on your carpeted floor. You laughed at his eagerness and tugged the window back down, drawing the curtains quickly. 

“So…” you said, settling back on the bed, lying on your side to face him. “Any reason you stayed out there spying instead of coming inside?”

His face fell, a frown pulling at his lips. “You’re right. It was wrong and gross of me to just stand out there and watch you, but you just looked so pretty trying on your new stuff, and then you were on the bed and your hands started moving and—“

“Were you touching yourself?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. “While you were peeping through my windows, that is.”

He made a soft noise, right in the back of his throat, something between a whimper and a whine. “Yeah. Fuck, that was so wrong of me to do. I’m really sorry.”

“Steve, I’m fucking with you,” you said quickly, worried he might actually take it to heart. “I heard your car door slam, so I put on a little show.”

He groaned, leaning his head back until it banged on the window-sill. “You’re such an asshole.” He shook his head and looked at you expectantly. “So are you going to keep going, or not?”

A surprised laugh escaped you at his tone, and you couldn’t help but relish in his desire. In the past few weeks, your confidence had skyrocketed— you had never felt more confident in your own skin until Steve treated you like something worth worshipping. 

With a wink in his direction, you turned onto your back, spreading your legs slightly to fit your hand. His eyes followed your hands, but your eyes were glued on him. Gently, you let your hands wander along the silk, dancing along each dip and curve in your figure. 

“Tell me what to do,” you said, meeting his darkened gaze. He swallowed, eyes trailing up and down your body. 

It was a few moments before he spoke up, wetting his lips with his tongue before he finally told you what he wanted. “Take your clothes off,” he said finally, his voice more confident and firm than you expected. Heat burned in your cheeks at the ferocity of his gaze, the desire within it. You moved to brush the straps off your shoulders, but he shook his head. “Not like that. Slow.”

A shiver ran through you, and you nodded, standing from the bed to remove it properly. Slowly, you brushed the first strap off your shoulder, letting it fall to your elbow, exposing your breast. Already puckered from the cool air through the thin fabric, it felt sensitive so bare. 

Steve sat forward as you let the second strap fall, leaving you naked from the waist up.  A low noise came from the back of his throat, and you gave a shaky exhale. You turned, facing away from him as you brought your hands to the waistband, bending as you dragged the fabric to the floor, where it pooled at your feet. 

“Fuck. You’re incredible,” he said as you turned back around, crossing your arms across your belly sheepishly. “Back on the bed now. I wanna watch you touch yourself.”

“Jesus, okay,” you said softly, lying back against your pillows. “Do you want to get up here? Have a closer look?”

It was like asking a fish if it wanted to swim. Or a dog if it wanted the juiciest, most expensive steak in the world. He simply had no choice in the matter— every single one of his cells was screaming yes. He sat at the foot of your bed, watching you keenly as your hands began to trace along your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

A shaky sigh escaped you as your fingertips brushed along your thighs, making you part them slightly to fit your hand. At the first brush of your fingers against your clit, you gasped, your breath coming in shaky bursts. 

You’d been pent up since the sex shop, since you’d actually touched Steve. And having him just watch while you pleasured yourself was so much more intense than anything you’d done with him before. 

 It would be stupid to deny that you cared about him anymore— it was just a fact of your existence, same as your eye color or the shade of your hair. You liked him. Maybe even loved him, if you really thought about it. He was simply your favorite person in the world. 

“You can do more than that,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking into a grin. You swallowed hard, fingers dipping towards your center. “Tell me what you’re feeling, sweetheart.”

“I’m so wet,” you gasped, closing your eyes as your head fell back against the pillow. It was too intense to keep looking at him, not with everything you were feeling then. “Just wanna be filled up so bad.”

A soft hum escaped him, making your cheeks heat up. “With what?”

“Fingers.” You barely managed the two syllables as you pushed two digits into yourself, a choked sob escaping your lips as you fucked yourself with them deeper. 

“You sure?” He asked, and you could almost hear his smug grin. You were impossibly wet, you could hear the obscene noise of your fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And, god, you needed more. “‘Cause if you want something I can go get it.”

Oh. Smug bastard. You swallowed down your pride and nodded, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “Please,” you said simply, cheeks burning. 

He raised a brow, glancing around your room. “Want something specific… or dealer’s choice? I’ve got my eye on a pretty sick-looking candle on your dresser. Like from Debbie Does Dallas. You remember that one from two weeks ago, don’t you?”

You kicked him lightly with your foot as he burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him smiling. God, you had it bad. “Go get the toy dipshit,” you said, with a pointed look. “It’s in the back of my underwear drawer.”

He grinned victoriously, hopping from the bed to rifle through your dresser while you watched. While he snooped, you continued to pump your fingers in and out of yourself slowly, relishing in the sensation of being filled, even if it wasn’t as much as you wanted. He held up a pair of pink panties with an embroidered cherry on the front grinning wildly. 

“These are cute,” he said as he tucked them into his back pocket. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t ignore the heat that burned in your belly at the thought of him having them. A soft, aha, sounded from his lips and he turned, holding the dildo casually in his grip. 

Your mouth practically watered at the sight, your cunt spamming around your fingers, desperate for more. “Is this what you wanted?” He asked, raising a brow. You nodded and he smirked. “Yeah? The same toy you compared to my dick?” You nodded again, chewing on your lip. 

He sat back on the bed, not handing over the toy just yet. “You gonna think about me while you use it?” He looked at you curiously, and you felt the line of questioning tipping further away from just dirty talk. 

“Yeah,” you said weakly. “I’m gonna think about you, Stevie. Please let me have it.”

His face lit up at your words, eyes brightening with the telltale signs of an idea forming. You felt your breath shudder in anticipation. 

“I’ll let you have it,” he said plainly. “I’ll give it to you if you’re good and let me.”

Wait… you sat up on your elbows, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. “You want to… use it on me?” You swallowed. Hard. He nodded and your heart skipped enough beats to make you genuinely concerned. “O-okay.”

“You sure?” He asked, his voice softer. 

“Mhmm,” you replied, offering a small smile. “I trust you.” You paused, feeling suddenly shy. “How are we gonna do this?”

He paused, brows furrowing as he considered his options. God, you wanted to know every thought running through his head. “I’ll sit behind you, you lean back on my chest, that way I can just reach around and… y’know.”

You nodded, sitting up so he could slide into place behind him. He settled comfortably behind you, wrapping one arm around your belly to ease you against him. It felt strange to be so naked while he was fully dressed, but not enough to really mind. You laid back against him, spreading your legs to allow him access. 

Knowing him, you figured he’d just go in with the dildo and just ram you with it a few times, but you were sorely mistaken. The toy was discarded to the side for the moment, his fingers moving between your legs to rub your clit, eliciting contented moans from you. 

Your hips buck into the sensation, grinding in thoughtless, subconscious movements to get more pressure out of his touch. His tongue clicked, chiding you for your impatience, but he didn’t do anything to stop you. You figured he liked knowing you wanted more. 

“What fingers do you use when you touch yourself,” he asked, breath warm against your ear. 

“Huh?” You asked, almost breathless, too riled up to think clearly. 

He held up his hand, wiggling his fingers jokingly for a moment. “Ring-middle, or pointer-middle?” He asked, flexing them in turn. “I have a preference, I just wanna see if you do too.”

Smug fucker. “I don’t really think about it,” you answered honestly. “Ring-middle, I think.”

“Excellent choice,” he said, and you could practically hear his grin. You sighed, leaning further back against him as his hand settled back between your legs. Your cunt was practically pulsing as he let his fingers wander, dipping into the wetness pooled at your entrance before returning to your clit, circling gently. “You want my fingers?”

You nodded wordlessly, yeah thrown back against his shoulders as he teased your entrance, making you whimper. His lack of action told you one thing— he wanted you to say it. “Please, Steve,” you practically whined. “I want your fingers so bad.”

You hadn’t ever really thought about how his hands would feel until that moment, when his middle finger breached your entrance and pushed deep within you. It felt like heaven, but you needed more. You rocked against his fingers, encouraging him deeper, or to move, or to use one more. You didn’t really know what you wanted, just that you wanted something. 

“So fucking needy,” he mumbled against your hair. “It’s cute.” 

“Sh-shut up,” you said, voice catching as he pushed another finger within you. Ring-middle. Fucking incredible choice. The sounds his fingers made as they fucked you were obscene. You hadn’t even known your body could do what he was making it do. “I want more, Stevie. Please.”

“Yeah?” He asked, removing his soaked fingers to toy with your clit. “You want me to fuck you with the fake dick you bought? Hm?” 

“Steve,” you said, feeling embarrassed for no discernible reason. He laughed lightly into your hair and you burned inside. “Steve I want you to fuck me with it so bad. I really want it.”

“Yeah? You think it’s gonna feel like I would?” He asked, letting the toy run along your slit so it was coated in your wetness. Each brush of the silicon against your clit made you gasp. 

“Almost,” you said, exhaling a shaky breath as he pushed the toy in barely an inch. “It won’t feel as good.”

“No, it won’t,” he said, using his other hand to tease your clit as he pushed the toy in slowly, so you felt each and every passing inch. “But it’ll feel good for now, won’t it?”

As soon as the toy bottomed out, filling you completely, you gasped, nodding desperately. “Yes. It feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” His teeth grazed your ear as he spoke, his words low as he fucked you with the toy. “You like feeling stuffed with cock, hm? Does it feel good to be so full?” You nodded, beyond words at that point. His fingers moved faster on your clit as he thrust the dildo shallowly, just like you needed. You felt deliciously full, and each touch on your clit made your veins feel like fire. 

“Fuck,” you gasped, nails clinging to his thighs on either side of you. “Fuck, Steve, I’m so close. You’re gonna make me cum. Please make me cum. I want it so bad.”

He kept up the same rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You felt like crying from the pleasure that he so easily drew out of you, and he was touching you like he was fluent in the language your body spoke. You came suddenly, crying out a mix of obscenities and his name, grinding against the toy and his fingers, desperate for more of that delicious feeling. 

The feeling of him slipping the toy from your cunt was strange— you suddenly felt so incomplete. You felt sensitive all over to the slightest touch, shivering as the chill in the room suddenly became apparent. 

“That was—“ You sighed happily, feeling drowsy and sated with the pleasure coursing through you. “So good. Never understood a reputation more than in this moment.” Your eyes were heavy as you blinked, turning to face him. 

You wanted to press your lips to his, kiss him until you were desperate for breath. You shivered. “Can you grab me pajamas?” You asked softly. He nodded, slipping from behind you to rifle through your dresser again. 

He turned, holding up a blue button-up pajama set for your appraisal. When you nodded, he shut the drawer and returned, grabbing the cherry print panties he’d stashed earlier. 

“See, I’m not a pervert, I just think ahead,” he said with a grin. You slipped them on and let him help you pull the pajama shirt over your head. 

“I still kind of think you’re a pervert, Steve,” you replied as you awkwardly tugged on the pajama pants. You turned to face him, peering down at the bulge in his jeans. “You, uh, want some help with that?”

He brushed you off with a wave of his hand, pulling off his shirt and jeans before climbing into bed. “Nah, you’re tired. Just c’mere.”

You didn’t question Steve wanting to stay the night. You didn’t find it presumptuous or overbearing. The sight of Steve looking up at you from your quilted blankets, his brown eyes so inviting, made your heart melt. You grinned and slipped beneath the covers, reaching over to turn off the lamp before you cuddled against his side. 

He was warm, and he was in your bed. And you were almost entirely certain you loved him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #my writing

[babydollmarauders]

LOVE & HATE — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: “Forget it, you're a fucking asshole.” with Jack.

notes: this one’s longer than a blurb, but i still don’t know how i feel about it. it’s not really romantic but maybe i’ll make a part 2 eventually to make it romantic, idk.

i’ll be honest, when i found out my best friend at UMich has an attractive brother, i was over the moon. after Luke introduced me to Jack over facetime, i fantasized about him for months. he was hot, he seemed really nice, and he had a big soft spot for his family, which was extremely attractive to me. but then Luke brought me home for the summer.

being my best friend, Luke knew that my family wasn’t great. they were an entirely large reason that i chose to go to college in Michigan instead of back home in North Carolina. so, Luke invited me to spend the summer with he and his family at their lake house, citing that they always bring friends along so it’ll be okay if i come.

last summer is when i really met Jack. i had been excited to spend the summer with Luke and his family. i had met his parents many times throughout Luke and i’s school-year-long friendship, and got a chance to meet his oldest brother Quinn once, so i was looking forward to really getting to meet his middle brother. that is, until i actually met him.

he was nice for the first few days, but Jack’s sweet boy persona was broken when i overheard him make a comment to his friend, Trevor.

“she’s probably only his friend because she knows he’s from a well-known family and that he’s going to the NHL.”

“i don’t know, Jack. she seems sweet, why would you think that?”

“i mean, why is she here and not spending her summer with her own family?”

i left later that week. i never told Luke what i overheard, but i’ve made my new feelings about his brother clear. which is why it took a lot of convincing from Luke in order to get me to join him at the lake house again this summer. but ultimately, Luke won and now here i sit, on the couch beside him at the Hughes lake house, dreading Jack’s arrival.

“can i go out back?” i ask Luke for the third time. i already know the answer, but i’m hoping if i ask enough, i’ll wear him down.

“no, y/n.” he whispers back, leaning down so no one else hears. “i still don’t understand what you have against him. he’s nice.”

“to some people.” i mutter under my breath.

“what?”

“nothing.” i reply. it’s at that moment that the front door opens and the devil himself steps into the entryway, Trevor in tow behind him.

“Jack!” his family cheers around me, but i stay silent. Luke stands from his spot beside me and i watch as Jack and Trevor get hugs from the four other Hughes’.

“hey, y/n.” Jack looks towards me, sending me a soft smile that i assume is for false politeness, and i give him a short nod in acknowledgement.

“hi.” i reply. he turns back to his brothers, his parents already having dispersed back to the kitchen where they were starting on dinner. Trevor comes over, bending down and scooping me into his arms for a hug.

“hi, y/n!” he speaks excitedly and i laugh.

“hi, Trevor.” i hug him back. Jack may be rude, but his best friend isn’t. Trevor and i kept in touch after my abrupt departure last summer, and he’s one of my closest friends now. “you did so good this season. i’m so proud of you.”

Trevor pulls back to grin at me.

“you watched my games.” he teases, fingers lightly tickling my sides.

“of course, i did! but, i also attended Luke’s games and watched Quinn’s, so don’t go feeling too special.” i joke. he lets out a mock gasp, throwing a hand over his heart.

“the betrayal! i thought i was your one and only.” he dramatizes.

“nice try, Zegras! if anyone’s her one and only; it’s me.” Luke chimes in. “i knew her first.”

Luke pulls me back down to the couch beside him, pulling me to his side in a jokingly possessive manner. i smile up at Trevor, shrugging.

“i mean, he’s right.” i giggle. “but boys, boys, settle down. there’s enough of me to go around.”

they chuckle and i settle back into Luke’s side, leaning against him as his arm wraps around me. it’s not unusual for us to be touchy. i’m a touchy person. what is unusual however, is Jack’s seemingly annoyed gaze on us. his eyes seem fixed where his brothers arm is resting on my waist, and i ignore him in favor of joining the new conversation between Trevor and Quinn.

**

it’s been a week since Jack and Trevor arrived to the lake house, and the tension between Jack and i has been palpable. he seems nice enough, but i refuse to let my guard down around him again.

it’s nine in the morning, Luke and Trevor are still asleep; but i’m currently at the lakeside, laid on a towel and catching some sun.

“hey.” i jump at the voice that comes from behind me, holding in a groan when i realize who it is. opening my eyes, i look over at him.

“hi.” i reply.

“sorry, i didn’t expect anyone else to be out here this early.” he tells me, stepping forward and sitting down a few feet away from me.

“it’s fine.” i say, closing my eyes again, thinking the conversation is over.

“what’s your deal?” he asks, making me look at him again.

“what do you mean?” i question.

“you’re so nice to Luke, Quinn, and Trevor. and i mean, you’re not mean to me per say but, you’re definitely not as nice as you are to them.” he says. “i think this is the longest conversation we’ve had.”

“sorry.” i shrug, not sure how to respond, but that only makes him scoff.

“what is your problem with me?” he’s irritated now, i can hear it in his voice, and it makes me irritated in return.

“you- last summer, i-” i struggle to convey my thoughts, and he raises his eyebrows, nodding and urging me to go on. “forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

“what the hell did i do?” he argues. “you said ‘last summer’, i was nothing but nice to you last summer. same this summer.”

“your niceties mean nothing to me when you’re just gonna talk behind my back.” i tell him.

“what?”

“i heard you last summer.” i confess. “talking to Trevor.”

“y/n-”

“no. you don’t get to judge me.” i say. “not like i owe you any explanation, but i’m friends with your brother because he approached me first. he talked to me first. i didn’t know anything about your family or Luke going to the NHL for the first few months that we were friends. and you know nothing about my home life, so don’t just assume that we all have a perfect family like yours that we would want to go home to. Luke is nice enough to invite me here so that i don’t have to see mine, and i can’t thank him enough for that. i won’t let you ruin my summer just because you don’t like me.”

i let a deep breath, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off my chest.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet and gentle. “last summer i had just broken up with a girl who was using me to gain a following and i thought i was looking out for my brother, but that’s no excuse, you’re right. i had no right to judge you or assume the worst in you. i can really see how close you guys are, and i can tell he means a lot to you. you mean a lot to him too. but you’re wrong about one thing, i don’t dislike you.”

“you don’t?”

“no. i actually really like you, i think you’re a good person, y/n. and i hope that you can forgive me for how i spoke about you.” he looks at me with gentle eyes and a small smile, and i sit up.

“can we start over?” i offer.

“i’d really like that.” he sticks out his hand. “hi, i’m Jack.”

“nice to meet you Jack, i’m y/n.” i grin, shaking his hand.

“pretty name, for a pretty girl.” he tells me, making me bark out in laughter.

“oh my god, you’re so corny.” i giggle.

“hey! i complimented you!” he jokes. “now you gotta compliment me.”

“okay, okay. you have a beautiful smile.” his cheeks twinge pink at my compliment and i bite my lip to hold back a smile.

“flirt.” he says.

“you started it!” i laugh out.

“yeah, yeah.” he rolls his eyes, but a smirk spreads across his face. his gaze flickers between me and the lake for a second before he rises to his feet. i lay back down, closing my eyes again, but before i can get comfortable, i’m lifted from the ground, opening my eyes to find myself in Jack’s arms.

“oh, don’t you dare.” i warn him, but he doesn’t listen, sprinting towards the end of the dock. “Jack, oh my god!”

he laughs as he jumps into the cold lake, water engulfing us as we sink into it. i push away, kicking towards the surface, my hair sticking to my face as i rise from the water. Jack pops up next to me within seconds, chuckling at my shocked expression.

“it’s on!” i shout, splashing water towards him. he blinks for a second before splashing back at me, starting a war. we splash each other back and forth, occasionally going under the water and laughing together.

“what alternate universe did i wake up in?” i hear, making me turn my head towards the dock to find Luke watching us with his face scrunched in confusion.

“hi, Lukey!” i grin up at him.

“you guys are getting along.” he states.

“yeah, turns out, she’s not that bad.” Jack jokes, nudging my side. i blush and nudge him back.

“yeah, i guess he’s not that much of an asshole after all.”

-

#faithlynn’s 500 celly! #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #luke hughes #faithlynn’s writings <3

[mrs-weasley-reid]

A Slap of Reality

platonic Spencer Reid x geniusbau!reader | part 1

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Summary: Bau!reader was never good at being a shoulder to cry on, so when Spencer survives the horror of Tobias Hankel’s torment, she decides to be a slap of reality. 

Warning: mentions of torture

A/N: might consider writing a part 2 with developing romance if any of you are interested. Tell me!

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

The siren lights were blinding at the dead night. Spencer Reid was found not long ago. Officers surveyed the entire place. The other agents having distant conversations about what had just happened.

You took a seat next to Spencer at the edge of the ambulance door. There was only silence between the two of you, letting the cold wispy air hover.

You and Spencer are much alike than you let on. With an IQ of 184 and joining the BAU not far from turning 22, the two of you should've been best friends by now. But you weren't. You were distant. You were "friends" but it goes as far as talking about work and having brief conversations on a group outing. You were never alone together, unless you were paired up on case investigations. But it was more as coworkers rather than friends. Your drives together consisted of silence and nothing else.

Both of you didn't need to slow down for each other like you would always do around the others. So giving the effort to get to know each other didn’t seem necessary when you both knew what the other was thinking fifty steps ahead.

And maybe that's why you and him never had the chance to actually get know each other closely as individuals, not the geniuses people praise you to be.

You nudged Spencer’s shoulder, "It won't be easy after this." You mumbled nonchalantly.

He turned to you with a shrug of his shoulder. "I'll be fine," Spencer contrasted in a hopeful voice.

You’ve had your fair share of being abducted, much less tortured. You knew the drill. So, you shook your head, letting out a sigh. "You won't, I say that with best interest."

The two of you stayed quiet for a while until you spoke again, "You will remember everything like it’s happening in the moment. The feeling of his hands on you. His breath that gave you goosebumps. You will have nightmares. Far scarier than what you already have each night. You will cry. You will lose focus. You're going to take some cases personally. And then, people will walk on egg shells around you. They will treat you like you're the most fragile glass there is after witnessing you chip yourself. They're going to want to help you. They're going to look at you like you're the bravest person ever. And you will deny all of that. You will push people away—” He cut you off.

"Is this your way of telling me to let people help me? Because I don’t need any. I'm fine." Spencer was growing annoyed and you could hear it in his voice. Although, the last sentence was meant to convince himself, you both knew that.

You shook your head again, "You’re really not." You simply said, stretching your legs as far as it could. “All I'm saying is, it's okay. It’s okay to not be fine. You’re smarter than that to lie to yourself. You won't be right, but you won't be wrong either. But don’t expect me to sugarcoat things for you. I will be blunt and most likely will mention how stupid you're being for letting this event affect your judgement. I'm telling you that you can expect me to be real. So if you need the criticism or just a one big slap of reality. You can find me. You can call me, but don't call me on my day offs. You're not that special." You ended with a small joking smile.

A smile slowly roamed over his lips, too. Something about your harsh set of words didn’t seem so… well, harsh. Spencer chuckled to himself, “I’ll take you up on that.”

You nodded, “Mind if I start now?” You looked straight ahead where the others were engaging in playful suspicion of you and Spencer’s closeness, failing to be slick as they thought.

Your peripheral vision caught Spencer’s curt nod as he followed the direction your eyes were aligned with. You stood up and turned to him, holding an open palm. “Don’t be stupid and give me those.”

His mouth flung open. The surprise subsided quickly as he looked down and shook his head, chuckling softly. Spencer fished a couple of bottles contained with dilaudid from his pocket and handed them to you. “Thanks.” He sighed in relief, as if he was waiting for someone to stop him in the short time the bottles sat in the pit of his pocket.

And without the two of you knowing, a friendship was born

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminalminds #spencerreid #dr spencer reid #ssa spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-thirteen

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: Okay so I really hope I have everyone tagged that has asked, it's been insane how many of you love this series. Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @capsgrantrogersclqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99 @evanstanhoney @sebastianstansqueen @portrait-ninja @honeyglee @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @lilya-petrichor @valsworldofcreativity @buckycallsmeaslut @romanoffjohansson @themayzittcha @sapphiredreamer26 @buckybarnessimpp @itjustkindahappenedreally @mavrellover91 @esoltis280 @playboystark @legendarytrashcopeclipse @pansexual-4-all @elizacusi-blog @dnc331 @tee-swizzle @lovsalpkn

Arranged Masterlist

The music continued to play throughout our room and the rain had settled as Bucky and I laid in bed together, sheets covering our naked forms. My head was buried deep into the pillow, wishing sleep would overtake, and Bucky was propped up on his elbow, vibranium fingers grazing over my bare back. He looked down at me, adoration in his blue iris’s and I gave him a sleepy smile. 

“Tired?” He questioned. 

I nodded. “I wish we could stay here the rest of the night.” 

Bucky placed a kiss on my spine. “Me too, doll. But we have to show up tonight.” 

“This is stupid,” I groaned while snuggling deeper into his chest. 

The hairs that peppered across it tickled my cheek and I felt Bucky’s lips ghost along my hairline. His scent engulfed my senses and I smiled at the familiarity that it started to bring. 

Even after our afternoon in bed together, Bucky still smelled like he had just emerged from the shower, a strong smell of fire embers and a very small hint of vanilla. 

“I can’t remember the last time I spent the day relaxing. I haven’t even taken one phone call,” Bucky chuckled. 

I leaned up and placed a kiss onto his chin. “You needed it. You’ve been working every day since I first got here.” 

“Maybe we could take a vacation once everything settles down with work and your parents' case?” Bucky suggested. 

“I would like that. I’ve always wanted to visit the pacific northwest,” I admitted. 

Bucky shook his head with a laugh. “I have my own private jet and can take you anywhere in the world and you want to go there?” 

I nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve had plans to move there after high school but life got busy and before I knew it, ten years later I still haven’t left the state.” 

Bucky pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Wherever you want to go, doll. I’ll take you.” 

I wrapped my arms around him, the heat from his skin warming mine immediately. 

“I think I’ve learned more about you today than in the three weeks since you’ve been here,” Bucky observed. 

“Usually you do get to know each other before you get married,” I joked with a wink. 

“Oh, is that right?” Bucky raised a brow at me. 

He had rolled on top of me and began leaving quick pecks all over my face, causing a school girl giggle to fall from my lips. 

This whole day was perfect. It didn’t feel like Bucky and I were married only for a few weeks. It felt as if we had known each other for years with how comfortable I found myself becoming around him. There was a moment earlier today where I looked at him and for a brief second, I forgot that he was a mob boss, feared by many. Then the reality set in when someone from his laboratory called, which Bucky quickly ignored. 

A knock at the door halted Bucky’s kisses and my giggles, him remaining on top of me still. 

“Is this important?!” He yelled to whoever was on the other side of the door. 

“Are ya decent in there?” 

Steve. 

Bucky quickly tossed me one of his shirts and a pair of underwear. I quickly got dressed while he slipped into a pair of sweatpants. 

“Come in!” He yelled. 

I was back under the covers, hoping that Steve was here to tell us that the party was canceled so we could stay home. 

A quick glance between the two of us, Steve merely smirked for a moment, with a raised brow. “Easy afternoon, huh?” 

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky responded. 

“Make me, jerk,” Steve said with a snort. 

I smiled at the banter between the two childhood friends and lounged deeper into the bed. 

“Did you need something, Steve or were you trying to sneak a peek?” I jeered. 

There was a faint blush to his cheeks but it was gone in a flash before looking at Bucky with a serious gaze. 

“There was a problem at the lab. Jason.” 

Bucky cursed while shaking his head. “This kid is going to fucking kill me.” 

He stood and went to walk into our closet but I grasped his hand. “What happened to no work today?” 

Bucky sighed with a disappointed look in his eye. “I’m sorry, doll. This can’t wait.” 

“Promise to be back before we have to go?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “I’ll try. I’ll call you if anything changes.” 

With a quick kiss to my cheek, I watched Bucky disappear into the closet to get dressed. I looked at Steve and raised a brow. 

“No chance you’ll let me tag along, huh?” I suggested. 

Steve gave a small smile. “Not this time, Y/N.” 

His smile, however, did nothing to ease my worries as I saw Bucky open up the safe in the closet and placed a gun that he grabbed into the waistline of his dress pants. 

I gave my driver a quick smile of thanks before shutting the door behind me, eyes glancing up towards the mansion in front of me. Bucky’s mansion was big but Starks was a tad bit bigger. 

With another quick look at my phone, I sighed with disappointment from no new message from Bucky. He had been gone for hours, meaning I had to come to this party by myself where I wouldn’t know anyone. Not the ideal way I wanted to spend the night. 

My mind kept thinking of what Bucky was doing and why he felt like he needed to bring a gun with him. For all I knew, he could have been carrying one on him every time he went out and didn’t notice. 

Where are you?

My fingers hastily typed into the phone and walked into the house, silently hoping he was already here. The place was filled with people dancing, drinking, or socializing and I could feel my anxiety weigh me down. 

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” 

I spun on my heels and felt all of my worries vanish the second Bucky’s eyes met  mine. A large breath fell from my lips. 

“Hi, you clean up pretty well yourself.” I winked and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

“Have you been waiting long?” Bucky questioned while allowing me to wrap my arm with his. 

“No, I just got here. How’d everything go at the lab?” 

He simply gave my hand a squeeze. “Everything’s fine.” 

As much as I would have liked to bring up the fact that he brought a gun along with him earlier, I kept my lips shut knowing that now wasn’t the best place to have that conversation. Bucky led me towards the bar where we ordered a few drinks and I used that time to gaze around the room. I saw Sam standing in one corner and Steve on another, their own gazes taking in every inch of the room. 

“I’m assuming they’re not here for pleasure?” I asked Bucky. 

He nodded after taking a drink. “Something’s not right about this gala. Why would Stark throw this for us when we barely know one another?” 

“I thought he’s interested in whatever your lab is creating?” 

Bucky snickered. “The only thing Stark is interested in is money.” 

The two of us stayed at our post at the bar, his vibranium hand glued to my lower back in a safety sort of way. Whatever worried him about tonight made Bucky on edge, even more so than he usually was. But that didn’t stop him from whispering promises of what he had planned for us once we were home. My cheeks flushed with red while my stomach flipped, the butterflies fluttering to life. 

“Mr. Barnes?” 

Bucky reluctantly pulled his mouth away from the small mark he was leaving on the crook of my neck and nodded towards a petite redhead who snuck up behind us. 

“Natasha,” he gave her a small smile. 

“You two know each other?” I pointed between the two of them. 

“She works for Tony,” Bucky informed, hand still attached to my lower back. 

Natasha tsked. “Are you sure that’s the only reason why we know each other?” 

Jealousy stabbed at my heart the way that Natasha had said that, hinting that they knew each other more than Bucky had led on. My eyes fell and I began stirring the ice in my cup, suddenly feeling out of place next to the two of them. 

“Everything alright?” Bucky asked, lips grazing my ear. 

I shivered at the feeling. 

“Yeah.” I nodded. 

Natasha sighed while clicking her heels on the marble floor below. “Mr. Stark is waiting for you.”

Bucky sighed but evidently nodded. He quickly waved Steve and Sam over. 

“Steve, stay with Y/N. Sam, you’re with me,” he gave the two men their orders. 

Steve was fast to my side as Bucky left a kiss upon my lips. It wasn’t a quick one, either. It was the kind of kiss where your tongues found each other right away and made your head spin with how much passion was put behind it. 

“I won’t be long, doll.” 

My eyes fluttered open and I nodded, watching him walk through a door that was behind the bar, his eyes never leaving me even if Natasha had been leading him through. 

“I take it as things are going well between the two of you?” 

I gave Steve a smile. “Yeah. I didn’t want to admit it at first but maybe this arranged marriage wasn’t as bad as I thought.” 

Steve matched my smile as he leaned against the bar. 

“Can I ask you something?” I questioned him. 

When he nodded, I continued with a deep breath. “Anything going on between Bucky and Natasha? He claims that he only knows her from working with Stark but the feeling in my gut tells me otherwise.” 

Steve hesitated, scratching at the beard on his chin. “She had feelings for him a long time ago but Bucky never felt the same.” 

I could tell in the way that Steve’s breath hitched in his throat that he wasn’t telling the complete truth but I let it go, simply taking a large gulp of my drink. 

“Whatever you say, Rogers.” I grumbled. 

He sighed and was ready to say something else but we were interrupted by another man slinking up towards the bar and stood a bit too close to my liking. 

“Y/N, I must say you look so good tonight.” 

My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I let myself step closer towards Steve, who had no issues with placing an arm in front of me. 

“What are you doing here, John?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “I’m here to celebrate the newlyweds. Where is your husband anyway? Can’t even show up to his own party?” 

“I’d suggest you leave now Walker.” Steve threatened. 

I placed a gentle hand on Steve’s arm to hold him at bay. The last thing I needed was to make a scene in front of everyone here. 

“John, there is no reason for you to be here. Please leave.” 

He ignored me, still keeping his hard gaze on Steve and smirked. “It must be so easy for the two of you. Having all that serum running through your veins?” 

I blinked, confused, and felt Steve tense under my touch. 

“Serum? What are you talking about?” 

John chuckled and finally tore his gaze away from Steve. “They didn’t tell you what they’re into? What they've been concocting in that lab?” 

“Steve, what is he talking about?” My voice faltered. 

Steve cursed and began leading me away from John. However, he was a tad faster than Steve and managed to side step us, blocking our path out. 

“They’re creating this super soldier serum so they can have their own army. They even injected themselves with it,” John informed while reaching for me. “It’s not safe for you to be with them, Y/N.” 

My head began to spin at this new information. Serum? Super soldiers? Bucky and Steve were these things? 

I would have thought John had been lying but suddenly it clicked of what I saw that morning in Bucky’s office. A briefcase full of blue liquid. I thought it had been drugs and now, I wasn’t too sure what was worse. 

My feet stumbled and when John reached for me once more, I smacked his hands away. 

“Leave me alone,” I snapped. 

“I can keep you safe, sweetheart.” John pleaded. 

His hands grasped my wrist and yanked me towards him causing me to yell out in pain from how hard he pulled. 

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” 

My voice seethed while I pushed him hard against his chest, his grip faltering. I looked for a way out, needing to get far away from here. My chest began to constrict, a pain shot through my body and I did my best to even my breathing. 

John tried to reach for me once more.

“Step back,” Steve threatened him and stood between the two of us. 

The words kept replaying in my mind, like a broken tape player stuck on a forever loop. 

Super soldier. Super soldier. Super soldier.

“Fuck, I need to get out of here.” I groaned while squeezing my eyes shut. 

Steve was quick to grab my hips from behind and led me through the crowd of people. There was a white noise in my ears, ringing so loud, that I hadn't heard Tony up on stage introducing the guest of honor. I also hadn’t heard Bucky calling my name, wondering why I was being rushed out of the house. 

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan

[applejuicefruit]

Hii i love your fics!!!

can i request Kylian and reader where she feels sick but don’t tell kylian cause she doesn’t want him to worry but eventually she gets worse and she has to be taken to the hospital?💓

Emergency room

You knew something was wrong the moment you woke up.

You felt nauseous and your stomach hurt but you didn’t say anything, you knew Kylian would got worried in the exact moment you would said something.

So you simply got up from bed and went straight to the kitchen where Kylian was having breakfast. It’s like he could read you.

“Are you okay?” he asked you kissing you on the cheek.

You nodded without say anything.

Truth was you were feeling like shit. Maybe it was something you ate yesterday but you didn’t try nothing new.

Kylian looked at you without asking you more questions. He knows you and he knows how much you hated questions in the morning so he simply got back eating his breakfast.

When you both finished you went straight to the bathroom and decided to take a shower.

“Babe i’m going…” Kylian said knocking on the bathroom’s door “I’ll be home around five, don’t forget Neymar and Achraf are coming to watch a movie tonight”

“Okay” you simply said almost in a whisper

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked a bit worried

“Yes i’m fine, go before you’re late!”

“Call me if you need anything okay? Je t’aime mon amour” he said before leaving.

The moment he left you came out of the shower. You dressed up in a comfy pajamas and put yourself back to sleep hoping you would feel better after a nap. You were so wrong. You woke up around lunch time and the moment you got up your stomach got worse and now your head was hurting too. You took some painkillers and went straight to the kitchen preparing lunch.

You weren’t even hungry but you tried to eat anyway.

Just a few bites of a sandwich and you were already full.

What was wrong with you?

Instead of calling your doctors you decided to watch some TV. You got yourself comfortable on the couch with a big and warm blanket around yourself since you were getting cold.

A few episodes into your favorite show and before you knew it Kylian was home.

“Hey mon amour” he said kissing your head while sitting next to you on the couch.

You snuggled around his body and let his big arms wrap you in a big and warm hug.

“Love are you sure you’re okay? You’re hands are pretty cold”

“I’m fine Kylian…” you said.

“Then why are your hands cold?”

“Kylian…”

“I’m just worried about you, have you measured your temperature?”

“No why would I?”

“Because you’re cold and you look pale” he said almost sitting up before you stopped him.

“Kylian I swear I’m fine, I’m probably just a big tired…”

He didn’t look convinced at your statement but he didn’t pressure it.

You both remained on the couch watching the show before Neymar and Achraf arrived.

They brought dinner so you all say together and eat while making some jokes and laughing.

You tried to eat a bit more since you got nothing for lunch.

The moment you woke up to go in the kitchen for washing your hands everything started to go blank. You made a few steps into the kitchen before putting both of your hands on the kitchen counter trying to support yourself.

Kylian had a good visual from the living room where he was sat to the kitchen so when he saw you he started to get worried.

“Chère? Everything alright?” he asked a bit worried. Both Neymar and Hakimi turned into your direction.

“Yes, I probably stood up too fast” you lied.

You weren’t alright and you knew it. But now everything hurt. From your head to your stomach to your legs and bones. You were cold but at the same time you felt on fire.

“You sure?” this time Neymar asked.

You nodded with your head and made a few steps towards the sink when everything went black.

Kylian’s P.O.V.

Y/n acted weird all day.

She said she was tired but I wasn’t believing it.

In fact, I was right.

It happened everything so fast.

One second she stood up to go into the kitchen and a few moments later she fainted.

“Oh my…” I stood up so fast I felt like Quicksilver.

“Baby? Chère can you hear me?” I said lowering myself to her level. She was laying unconscious on the cold marble floor of our kitchen so I picked her up and brought her to our couch.

“She’s burning” I said to both Ney and Achraf.

Achraf was already calling an ambulance.

It took forever for the ambulance to come and I got so worried every second. When they arrived they took her inside but they wouldn’t let me ride with them.

So I took my own car and sped up behind them. Neymar and Hakimi kept telling me do slow down but I wouldn’t listen.

When we arrived at the hospital I followed the doctors taking y/n inside.

They told me I couldn’t follow them so I had to wait in waiting area.

Just 20 minutes later a doctor came up to me and told me that y/n had a high fever and she was very dehydrated. Nothing too bad. They told me she would have been fine in a couple of hours so I waited until I could go see her.

She was okay.

That was the most important thing.

A nurse told me I could go and see her.

“Y/n…” I whispered trying to catch her attention.

She was still half asleep so I didn’t want to wake her up.

“Hey” she replied softly.

I sat next to her and took her hand in mine.

“You scared me, a lot…you scared everyone tonight” I said laughing.

“I’m sorry…” she said letting a few tears fall down.

“No no baby it’s okay…what matters is that you’re okay”

“I know but-“

“No but, I’m glad you’re okay, just maybe next time you’re not feeling good talk to me alright?” I didn’t want to make her feel bad or guilty, I just wished she spoke to me, but I know her and she’s very stubborn so she’ll never ask for help.

“I will I promise” she said smiling.

I smiled back.

“Now go back to sleep, I’ll stay here and then if tomorrow you’re feeling better we’ll go home okay?” I asked her softly kissing her hand again.

She simply nodded and closed her eyes.

I let a few tears fall down because of the fear and the adrenaline taking over me. I was really scared. We got lucky it wasn’t nothing major.

I wouldn’t be able to live without her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for requesting ⭐️ I hope you like it ⭐️

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