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#loneliest house in the world
unbfacts · 4 months
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throwupgirl · 1 year
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I CAN SEE THE FUTURE SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT I GOT A BEACH HOUSE IN MALIBU AND IM PROBABLY GONNA HURT YOUR FEELINGS...
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the-writer-nerd-ro · 1 year
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Tell me to my face that "I've got a lake house in Canada and I'm probably going to harvest your organs" isn't the best line in any song ever
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boyapologist · 2 years
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aren't shots supposed to be fuuun I took two shots with lime and salt and all and I just feel extremely sleepy
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mrsrdlw · 1 month
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My valentine
Summary: You and your best friend found a way to get away from all the valentine’s day by doing your own program. But, being alone for a long time only meant you two were horny and needy for affection.
wc: 3.3k (i got a little excited writing it, sorry)
warnings: friends to lovers; smut!!! +18 please (you’re responsible for yourself babe, but i warned you); fluff; masturbation (m!reciving); inexperienced!femreader. Tell if something is missing.
authors note: I know i’m a little late with valentines thing but i couldn’t help myself. I really liked the result and i hope you do too. It’s a new thing writing smutty things but i hope it’s not terrible. <3
*update*- i just posted a part two!
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**********
It was valentine’s day and you felt like you were the loneliest person in the world. Everyone was with their partners when you were all by yourself. Of course you were being dramatic but you were tired of having to pretend that it was okay to be single because you don’t needed a boy to make you happy. But you wanted to.
The same thing happened to your best friend. Eddie was all by himself. He was never the guy the girls would die for. They were too scared to see how pretty he was. But he also had been feeling kind of alone. He would walk in the market and see all the decorations he hated so much. Not only in school, everywhere, people would be all over each other. He always hated valentine’s day but he never knew that was because of his jealousy and would always blame in the capitalism and its ways to persuade people.
As you both would be alone, to distract you from thinking about couples making out, you created your own thing. You would go at each other’s house to watch movies together, eat junk food and talk about stuff. For two years you’ve been doing this and this year was your time being a host. At this time, you got lucky your parents weren’t home for the week. In the first year, you brought Eddie home and your mom kept asking non stop questions about him and how did you finally realized you were made for each other.
“You’re late.” You opened the door for him, taking the boxes off his hands.
“I’m sorry my lady, is my butler work not good enough for you?” He said in a english accent mocking you. “There was a lot of people ordering pizzas too. They copied our idea.”
“Fine. I just took the cookies out of the oven.” You pointed to the baking sheet “What movies did you pick?”
“Well, let’s see.There is the movie you asked for with the cats”
“Did you take the right one? Or just some movie about a cat?”
“Is the Disney one, right? The Aristocats? I got this one, nightmare on elm street and fast times at ridgemont high.” Eddie only took this last one because Steve said ’there’s some very interesting scenes about a girl, if you know what i mean’. Of course Eddie knew the girl’s titties would show up, he’d never watched it because he thought it would be a shitty movie. “If i want to see boobs i’ll just watch porn or i’ll buy a magazine” he would say. But he really thought about it and that would be the only way to make you watch something like that with him.
Once he asked if girls watched porn and you just ignored the question. He wanted to see your reaction and he knew you would never watch something like that, let alone with a guy. It would be the closest thing to porn you’d watch.
Also it was a secret to no one that he had a little massive crush on you. Maybe it was a secret only for you. Eddie don’t even know when did it started. One day you were just a girl who he was friends with but suddenly you were much more then that. You were hot, interesting, cute, smart and he couldn’t help but be enamored with you. But he never did anything to change that, to afraid of making you run away from him. To him, in that situation, your relationship as friends was more important. He wouldn’t stand to lose you. So he buried his feelings deep down and pretended it that never happened.
“Eddie it’s not Halloween. We’re not watching that, you know i can’t sleep afterwards.”
“Alright, no horror movies” He discarded the movie
“So is gonna be aristocats and this other movie. Is this even good? I never saw it.” Of course you saw it. Since Dustin told you guys his girlfriend was a hotter version of Phoebe Cates you had to. You scolded him after.
“It was on the recommendation board so we’ll have to trust in that”
********
Eddie had never seen the Disney movie before. It was for kids but you always loved it since you were a little kid. And if you loved, he’d watch it for you (he would not admit but he loved it too). There you were in the second movie. You had seen it two years ago so you were focused on the movie. But with that, you forgot about the boobs
“Oh…” Your cheeks got red. Seeing that by yourself was ok. But right by Eddie’s side, you got embarrassed and tried not to look at the tv in front of you. In the meantime, he was looking at you to see your reaction.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that would happen” He said trying to sound like he was surprised
“Don’t worry, i see this every day.”
Eddie didn’t payed attention in the movie anymore. Were you talking about porn?
When the movie ended you went to bed and Eddie came with you. Being friends for a long time made you so accustomed to be around each other that now you would insist that he would sleep with you in your bed and not on the couch.
He would not sleep if he kept the question to himself. He had to ask.
“Good night Eds. Thanks for today. It was really nice!”
“Sure sweetheart, i had a good time too!”
And the place got quiet. It was now or never.
“Hey… can i ask you something?”
You just hummed
“Well… Earlier, when we were watching the movie you said that you would see it everyday when we saw the girl’s titties. With that do you… you know, d’ya mean you see boobs everyday in like, porn?”
“What? Why would you say that?” You said looking at his face even though the room was dark
“I don’t know why it just came in my head like, come on!”
“Eddie… i’m a girl. I see them everyday because i have them. Just like every woman. Go sleep, will ya.”
Eddie don’t know if that make it better or worse. Not that he didn’t know you had boobs. Of course you had. But now, you had boobs, you’d watch them and everything came to Eddie as a movie. Or as a dream in witch it really did. Right by your side, in your bed, in your house. Eddie had a wet dream about you. I wasn’t the first time. But it was in you house, close to you. Till then, he was sleeping and his mind was working on making him hard by the images of you touching your boobs while you were fucked by him.
You had woken up first, not realizing his morning wood, you went to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to take a glass of water and came back. But now he’d moved and, in his sweatpants, his “situation” was pretty obvious.
That scared the shit out of you. What would you do? Should you go back to sleep? Or try to pretend you never saw it. You weren’t a boy, but that seemed to be very uncomfortable. Suddenly you got hot. Seeing his dick poking out in his pants, his bare torso shown by his shirt that was lifted up. His wild hair that framed his face. Of course you knew you had feelings for Eddie, but you never did anything to let him know. It was a secret only for you and you only. You couldn’t do anything about your best friend. Even if he had a boner and got you all worked up.
He started to move around and to wake up when he saw you sitting on the bed and looking at the ceiling. Before saying anything he felt it. “Holy fuck!” that’s what he thought. He started to panic. Did you saw it. Would he be fast enough to run to the bathroom and try to work on it. “No, you shithead, you can’t jerk in her bathroom”
You realize his movements and looked at him. You knew that he knew you knew. Now the blanket were covering him.
“Mornin” He said casually and you nodded you head, trying not to lend your eyes on his cock to see if you could still see his bulge. “You saw it, right?”
“Saw what? I-I just woke up!” You said a little to fast “I mean, i barely opened my eyes and- yeah, i saw it.” you stopped when you saw his expressions getting amused. If you already saw it, there wasn’t a reason to be concerned anymore.
“Don’t worry, that happens sometimes” he said as if he didn’t have any dreams. It was just normal
“What? Out of nowhere?”
“Yeah, sort of…” He said remembering you in his dream and resisting the urge to touch his cock
“Can’t you like, turn it off or something”
He laughed at you face. You were getting more and more uncomfortable and in the same time, a bit horny. “It’s not like the tv we watched last night. You can’t turn it off.”
“But…” You saw his face. He was looking at you “I don’t get it”
“Well, i don’t know how to explain it” He tried to sound confident about it “It’s like when your nipples get hard when you women get cold. It not a thing you control” That part was true. He couldn’t control his dick or his mind so he wouldn’t find you attractive.
“But it seems to be painful” You said looking at him getting up.
“It is a little. I’ll go to the bathroom to try to ‘turn it off’” He said giggling
“Wait Eddie!” He turned to you and now you could see how big he was. Even with his pants, it was visible. “You don’t have to do it by yourself. Can i do something? Like, can i help you?”
Eddie froze in place. He would go take a cold shower and have thoughts about random things that wasn’t you. He was not going to masturbate in there. Was he still dreaming?
“Sorry! Oh i’m so so sorry. I don’t know what i was thinking about” You regret when you saw how his face got to serious.
“No no no. Don’t be sorry. I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He sat again looking at you cover your face “I mean, we’re friends. Last time i checked, friends don’t usually give a handy to other friends.”
“I’m so fucking stupid and embarrassingly alone that i let this stupid date get in my mind. I don’t know…”
“Were you willing to do it? For real?” He was really curious to know if you would jerk him off. That had to mean something, right?
“I’m sorry, it’s fucking crazy!” Hugging your knees, you looked at him and forced your arms to open
“Come on, don’t be so harsh. Were you?”
You nodded to scared of his reactions to your horny attitudes
“I thought you were virgin and said you were inexperienced in everything”
“It can’t be that hard” You whispered and looked at his eyes. Those pleading eyes that were begging to go back in time but were just reassuring Eddie that the shower would not ‘turn it off’ anymore.
“What if i said i wanted you to do it, huh? Would that be to weird?”
Now it was your turn to be shocked. Now he was asking you to do it. Was it to weird? Maybe a little, but only because you never did it before and because it was your best friend.
“I don’t know Eddie… I think you just as crazy as me” He laughed at that
“I might be a little. But it’s a good thing” You were feeling more comfortable now. It was your Eddie again and not some guy you had a crush on. “I know what you’re thinking. But, don’t you think i never wondered how would it be to kiss you? You are the most amazing friend i could have and with that comes this feeling too. But i don’t want to lose you. You’re to important for me”
“You too. Honestly i’d be lost without you. But i also wonder how would it be, you know…”
You kept looking at him and he did the same. You were making sure that it was the right thing to do. The he closed the gap between you two. Bodies bonding and connecting to each other. Your lips were so soft. Eddie was sure he was in his dream now. His hands that before was holding your face, now went to your back, caressing your waist. And your hands ran from his shoulders to his hair, tugging some locks of it and making him groan.
Things heated up and he pulled you to his lap. His bulge was now touching your crotch. With his hands on your waist, he took advantage of that and encouraged you to move back and forth making you feel so good. The friction was perfect. His lips were perfect. The way he was kissing you like he waited his whole life for it. Separating to breathe, you leaned on him, your foreheads touching, but your movements continued slightly.
“For a very inexperienced girl, you’re a hell of a kisser. Damn, are you sure you’re telling the truth?” He said panting with his eyes closed and his lips curled to a smile. You smiled back
“Yeah, i assure you. Don’t make me feel like i’m too good though. I’m gonna get too cocky.”
“Tell that to him” He pressed you down on him and, once again, you felt his hard dick. ‘How can it be so hard?’ you thought
“Can i take of your pants?” you asked a little scared
“Sure thing, sweetheart” He was smiley. He helped you to take it off and wow. You were a little shocked. It was big. You thought about it for a second and you honestly thought he was not average.
“Can i say something too?” He nodded while he pulled you back to him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now but i just wanted to tell you so you don’t have any expectations. I don’t even know if you have any-” You were talking super fast, Eddie had to shut you up with a kiss. “Sorry. I was saying that, i think i still need some time, you know, if you want to have actual sex.”
“It’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to here”
“But i really wanted to do this. To help you here.” You said running your hand from his chest to his lower belly and his cock twitched. You wasn’t expecting that to happen “Is this normal” He nodded and giggled
“Are you sure you want to do it? You know, i’m not proud to say it, but have jerked off before. Plenty of times actually. If you’re not comfortable doing it, it’s not a problem for me to do it by myself.” It was melting your heart in the way he was talking to you. Caring about you.
“Yes i am! I’m just… insecure about it. I don’t know how to-.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how, alright?” It was you time to nod you head. “A’right then. First thing, we need it to be wet, so you’ll have to spit on you hand.”
You hesitated but gathered a good amount of saliva on your mouth and spited on your hand.
“That’s right. Very good. Now you can wrap your hand around it” You just didn’t know where to. Was he talking about the tip or the base. You went for the tip.
Groaning low, he cleared his throat “Good girl. Now you can just make some circles around the tip and then go down.” You did what you were told to and that seemed to work. Your foreheads, that were glued to this time, separated a little before he came back. Both of you looking at your hand moving around his red tip leaking pre cum.
“Is that normal?”
“It means it’s fucking good” Even his voice changed. It was getting rougher and lower.
“Can you guide me a little. I’m scared i’ll squeeze you too hard” you said and his hand wrapped around yours.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s better when is tight. I’ll let you know if it’s to much” He let you do it by yourself when you got the right rhythm and grip.
Your hand were moving tightly up and down. You didn’t know if it was there before, you didn’t notice because you were to focus, but his hands were squeezing your tights hard. You could feel your panties getting soaked. How come you were excited by jerking him off.
More of the liquid you saw before came out and you ran your thumb over it. He let out a moan that rambled inside you body.
“Can you, please, go a little faster than that” And that’s what you did. The moan you heard was the first of many others that came along. You had gathered, again, more saliva and thought that it would be nice to be even wetter than it was. So you separated a little from him, looking at his confused eyes trying to read you. You separated enough to bend down and to spit on it again, looking at his eyes roll back, throwing his head back. You came back to your position, proud that you did something good without him telling you.
Your movements got faster than before and he, restless panting, kissed you. You wanted to make him cum hard. So you separated the kiss, kept up the speed, flashing him your boobs. That was the final push for Eddie.
The way he grabbed you and moan at your ear was insanely hot. You watched ropes of cum come of his dick. Your hand were now with white and sticky cum.
“Holy fucking shit!” He panted for the last time and let go of his grip on you. “Are you really sure you’re inexperienced?”
“I might’ve heard some advice about it from some friends” You said getting out of his lap, but he stopped you
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve been up here for a while, i don’t want to hurt your legs. Besides, my hand is a little dirty.” He laughed a little
“Let’s clean up and come back here then.”
That’s what you did. When you came back, he pulled you to his chest and you started to talk.
“You know, i got hard because i had a wet dream about you. Probably because of the movie. But you were in a bikini like hers and, well… you know the rest.”
“Really? What a perv.” You laughed together. You couldn’t be more happy to let this felling out of your chest. You didn’t know for how long you could keep that from him.
“What i mean is that, i really hope you don’t think that i’m doing this just because i was hard and you were there to help. I like you, not in a friend way and, if you let me, i would like to make you my girlfriend one day, if you want. For real. Take you out to dates, stay together doing whatever the shit we’ll want, give you things that i know you will love. This kinda shit.”
“If you want to, i would love to be your girlfriend. And all of the things you mentioned. Well… you know, you already do all of that. The sex is new though.”
He laughed and kissed you passionately
“Great. Now, you’ll get see how much fun we’re gonna have” You spent the rest of your valentine’s day like this. Laughing and kissing each other.
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xhoneygirlxx · 7 months
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Love To See Me From Your POV
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rockstar! Eddie Munson x wife! reader
summary: Seeing Eddie on the road for the first time should be an exciting moment but when your insecurities rise, you wonder if this is the life you were cut out for.
warnings: angst. reader is insecure: mentions of self hatred and low self-esteem. Eddie and Reader are both in their twenties! Rockstar Eddie. Eddie does call groupies gross. mentions of rough marriage. Eddie and reader fight! slight cheating accusations. fluff. Eddie is the sweetest husband, reader and Eddie being in love and cute. Smut 18+ Only, Minors DNI!! : mentions of sex with groupies, p in v (unprotected), cream pie, slight breeding kink, slight dom/sub, body worship/praise, oral receiving (reader), fingering, squirting. shit writing and bad grammar. Not proofread!!!!
If I missed any please let me know! *
a/n: Hello my loves, I got a request from @kellyxo1 for this little thingy right here! I hope this is okay and I hope you enjoy! Thank you all again for being so wonderful and lovely to me :) And remember if you ever want to request something, you're more than welcome!
There isn't a booklet on what to do and what not to do when you get married, and there's definitely not a booklet on how to be a rockstar's wife. Married life in itself is a difficult task, but learning the ropes of being married while also dealing with the life of fame was something you or Eddie was prepared for.
Getting married right after Eddie's third senior year was always the plan, two young and dumb freshmen solidifying it with hooked pinkies. Obviously you loved one another more than life itself, but going through the motions of being married at the ripe age of 20 is harder than any fairytale make it out to seem.
It was hard that first year, constantly worried about bills, overtired from working long shifts to pay said bills, and just learning how to live with one another. But in between all the hardships, there were small moments where both of you remembered what it was all about. Eating thirty cent noodles, decorating for holidays, the quiet Sunday mornings where you'd get tangled under bed sheets. The love that both of you hold for one another drowning out every other shitty thing around you.
The second and third year, your whole world flipped upside down. After getting lucky and getting picked up by a big record label, Corroded Coffin was now the hottest new band on the market. You remember the day the boys got signed, how most of them shed a tear of happiness, and how happy your husband looked. A moment in time that was now frozen in a picture that hung on your fridge.
You were so proud of the boys, watching them go from a crowd of seven drunks to recording their own album. There was something so special about being there with your husband for every step, cheering him on from the sidelines every time. When the album finally dropped and the number of sales went up, Eddie surprised you with the keys to the little house on Deer Run Road, the same one that the two of you always fantasied about owning.
Although he worked mostly in LA, he told you he planned on staying in Hawkins where he could still get privacy while being close to the people he loved. You also loved it because you wouldn't have to leave your job at the daycare and your husband would always come home to you.
Now on year four, you were the loneliest you've ever been. Between touring, recording, and everything that comes with being in a band, Eddie has barely home. You can't be mad at him though, he's following his dream all while providing a wonderful life for you. Of course there are nights you'd rather have him in bed with you, reading that old torn copy of Lord of The Rings rather than a phone call, but you're just glad he even has the time and energy to do so.
It was hard for the both of you, many times the two of you cried together, confessing the horrible ache that nestled itself in your hearts. You felt terrible, never being able to visit him because your schedule didn't line up with his. That's when you decided you were going to take a week off, fly to whatever city he was in, and surprise him.
With the help of Steve, who pretty much taught you the in's and out's of flying, and the band's personal assistant, you were able to buy a ticket to New York where CC would be performing their final show. That night when Eddie called you, you were buzzing with excitement and it killed you not being able to tell him.
On the way to Eddie's hotel was nerve racking. What would he think of you? Will he like how you changed your hair? Will he be shocked with how much I changed? You wondered how different he looked since the last time he saw you, the only way you got to see him was through your tv or on a cover of a magazine, and you never know how accurate those things can be.
__
Standing in front of his hotel room was daunting, blood rushing to your ears as your anxiety reached a whole new level. It felt like you never met him before, like he hasn't seen every single part of you or known you since he was a young man. The shakiness of your hands were only getting worse the longer you sat there, you decide it was now or never.
Raising one hand to the peephole, blocking it with your finger so he wouldn't be able to see, you use the other hand to knock on the heavy door.
"Housekeeping!" You disguise your voice the best way you can, making it high pitched and nasally.
Knocking once more, you cringe when you do it harder than before, remembering that he's probably tired from all the travel he's been through.
"Housekeeping!!" Still using the fake voice, trying to soften the blow of your heavy hand you sing the last little bit of the word.
From behind the door you can hear shuffling, yet there was no footsteps heard.
Raising your fist once more, you knock again and this time you can hear him shout something back.
"GO AWAY!" It comes muffled through the door that separates the two of you.
"Good morning, it's housekeeping!!" you cover your mouth with you hand trying to stifle the giggle that fall from your lips, knowing your husband is probably cursing to himself in anger.
Eddie's heavy footsteps and huffing are the only things coming from the room, then the door is being swung open causing the land that was leaning on it to fall dramatically.
In front of you is the man you married, hair messy from sleep, plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, and bare chest on display. He looked so pretty, rubbing his closed eyes with the palm of his hands, pink lips jutting out in a pout, and puffy cheeks.
"I already told you to go the f-" Cracking one of his eyes open to adjust to the harsh light of the hallway, he finally sees you.
"Baby?" His raspy voice in a whisper, like he's questioning if you're real or not. Tired eyes that were once too heavy to open are now bulging out of his head, cartoonish and wild.
"Hi, Teddy." You whisper back, a saccharine smile breaking out on your face.
The air that once lived in your lungs are quickly punched out the moment he lunges towards you, gripping you up and twirling you around. In the middle of a swanky New York hotel, the two of you hold on each other, squeezing tightly to make sure that neither of you will float away in the clouds of a realistic dream.
"My baby, my beautiful girl," You hear it before you see it, the thickness of his sleepy voice does nothing to hide the shakiness. The tears of mourning you, fall from his eyes hitting the exposed part of your neck where he finds solace.
"I'm here, Teddy. I'm here." The dam you've built to hold back your own tears, has finally busted open. The tears of long nights and a cold bed fall onto his warm skin, the one thing you wished to feel once more.
Moving apart slightly, big brown eyes finally meet your own, taking in the imagine of the people they love the most. Teary eyes and stuffy noses, wobbling lips and heavy breathing, two souls reuniting after too much time away from each other.
Planting his forehead to yours, you bask in the feeling of being close. Eddie's warm lips touch yours, a sweet and tear soaked kiss makes you melt.
"I missed you so much, angel." He confesses, the warmth of his breath mixing with your own.
"I know the feeling." You joke and the both of your share a laugh.
"You know," he whispers, forehead still touching your own, "I want to be mad that I'm up at the ass crack of dawn, but you're such a beautiful sight to be woken up to." A gooey smile spreads on his lips and like a yawn, you mimic his actions.
"So you're not interested in housecleaning services this early in the morning?" You question and he snorts at your bad attempt of a joke.
"Angel, you know me better than that." He says and you roll your eyes.
"Now," Eddie lets you down gently, your feet returning to the carpeted floor. "If you don't mind, I would love nothing more than to fall asleep with the sexiest woman in the world."
Leading you into his room, he proves his point by slapping your ass hard. When you turn around to chastise him, you're met with him biting his bottom lip and his gaze still on your ass.
"Oh yeah, I'm gonna have so much fun with you." The morning rasp in his voice is replaced with a husky, lust soaked hunger.
Tossing you, lovingly, on the bed, Eddie pounces on you like a tiger. Attacking you with kisses, you try to push him off as best as you can, weak from all your laughter.
"Teddy, I still have to shower!" You shout causing him to pause over you. Catching your breath, you run your hand up and down his arm softly. "I still have yucky airport on me."
Eddie leans down and licks your cheek and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. "Oh yeah, that's my favorite flavor."
"You're such a dork." You tell him and he only smiles bigger down at you.
"Yeah but I'm your dork, Mrs. Munson."
__
The morning was spent with discovering each other again, not just physically but emotionally. You update him on the kids at your daycare and new Hawkins drama, while he tells you about the antics the boys have gotten into and all the cool stories from this tour.
You missed it, the simplicity of marriage. Even through all the time spent apart is torture, you still find the beauty in the small moments. Like the thirty cent noodles, you enjoy the peace and comfort of whispers passed back and forth a room that isn't your own.
All the bliss you felt from this morning has now been flushed out, now replaced with the roaring waters of doubt. You watch your husband on stage, singing songs he wrote, like you did way back when. This time the crowd isn't just drunk bar patrons, it's beautiful woman screaming his name.
They're all perfect, tiny bodies and big breasts, full hair and flawless makeup. They're everything you're not, everything you never will be. This was the one part of the job you never read about in your how to guide. This was the one thing you forgot to teach yourself about, how to handle millions of woman fawning over your man.
You weren't naïve of course, you knew that the guys had groupies, but you liked to push that into the back of your mind. You trusted Eddie more than anything, you knew he would never do anything to ruin your marriage, but that wasn't the part that had you so upset.
It was the idea of not being good enough that was eating away at you. Like everyone else in the world, you had insecurities. You went through stages with your self consciousness, earning a few battle wounds to your confidence along the way, but over time you became comfortable in your own skin.
This wasn't Hawkins though, this was the big city, and your "small town pretty" is no good here. All of the woman here could chew you up and spit you out, beating you out by miles in a beauty contest.
Your self hatred starts to write over the happy memory of watching Eddie on the biggest stage you've ever seen. Embarrassment fills your body, numbing you from head to toe. You feel so stupid, the clothes you wear are nothing compared to what they wear, you probably look like a clown in the makeup on your face, and your hair is probably flat and dull now.
This wasn't what you signed up for, this isn't in the job description when you sign on to be a rockstar’s wife. You already have to worry about the safety of not only your husband but the rest of the boys too. You worry about Eddie and if he's eating enough, if he's getting enough sleep, and if he's taking care of himself. There is already so much on your plate and you don't think you can handle worrying about the fact that you're not good enough.
The wave of guilt hits you when you look back over to your husband. His beauty is powerful, sometimes it makes you want to cry how pretty he is, and you know deep down he deserves better. Rockstar Eddie Munson deserves a girl that looks like one of them, not someone like you. It makes bile rise in your throat when you think about how he has to watch his friends pick up women from different cities and he has to sit by himself because his old ball and chain is all the way back in nowhereville.
Having a front row seat of your own demise is too much, deciding it would be better to watch on the monitor in the green room. When you're finally alone, it doesn't get any better. The large mirror that hangs on the wall captures your attention, calling to you like a siren to a fisherman.
Taking a seat, you begin to pick apart every single detail of your face. You criticize the shape of your eyes and where they sit, the length of your nose and how the shape sits weird, and how the pores that sit on your skin are way bigger than you remember.
The loud voice in your head pleads with you, begging you to stop before it's too late. "DON'T RUIN THIS" it screams and the demons that have overtaken your mind push it away, not wanting reason to ruin their demolishing.
When the guys enter the room, you realize you've been staring in the mirror for longer than you intended, almost like you were hypnotized.
"What a great fucking show!" Gareth announces as he grabs a beer from the mini fridge in the corner of the room.
"I agree." Grant says as he plops down on one of the leather sofas, exhaling loudly as the adrenaline crashes through him.
"This crowd was definitely the loudest one we've had." Jeff's voice is louder than he thinks. Clapping his hands together, he signals at Gareth to throw him a beer.
"So, what do you two lovebirds plan on doing now that touring is over?" Grant asks, leaning up from his slumped position to look over at you.
Eddie wipes his neck and face off with a towel, stalking over to you with a blissed out look on his face. Leaning down to you, he places a sloppy kiss on your forehead, removing with a loud 'mwah' sound when he does.
"I planned on taking my girl around the city before we head back home." Eddie is still looking down at you, almost like he's questioning you if it's fine with you.
Returning a fake smile, hoping he doesn't notice it doesn't reach your eyes, you nod your head to let him know you approve. A guttural moan pulls your attention to the brown haired boy over who's now sitting on the opposite couch of Grant and Jeff.
"You two are grossly in love, it actually makes me sick." Gareth rolls his eyes and the roar of chuckles ring out in the room.
"You act like we don't have a line of hot ass babes waiting for us." Jeff laughs and Gareth hums as he swallows the sip of alcohol.
"Very true, Jeff. Very fucking true." The boy laughs in agreement.
You know that their comments hold no malice to you but it stings all the same. All you heard was, "Too bad for Eddie, we get to fuck hot girls while he's left with that." It loops through your head, digging a deeper hole, bringing up every bad thought you've ever thought about yourself in the twenty something years you've been alive.
Everyone continues to talk, laughing and joking like they always do and the only thing you can do is get lost inside the storm that tears through your body. The feeling of Eddie's fingers dragging along the skin on the back of your neck has long been forgotten. The voices have all gone muffled, your own demons speaking loudly over them to even try to understand what they're talking about.
"Angel?" Eddie calls and it brings you out of the darkness of your brain.
You hum, craning your neck up to look at him. He's breathtaking, you think, even in the horrible lighting of this dressing room he looks perfect and it crushes you even more.
"You 'kay? Haven't really said much." He says, only loud enough for you to hear, not wanting to bring unwanted attention.
"M'fine, just kind of tired." You shrug. Flashing those pretty teeth at you, he smiles and it makes you sick with love.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I know I didn't give you much time to recover from the flight... and other things." He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows, earning him a light shove from you.
Leaning down once more, he captures your lips in a loving kiss and a small portion of the tension in your body fades.
"See, I told you! Sickening!" Gareth shouts, his arm stretched out and hand face up, directing everyone's eyes to the two of you.
Bashfully, you shove your face into Eddie's stomach to hide. Draping his one arm on your back, he twists his body slightly to look at the others.
"Gareth, you're clearly jealous I get to kiss my smokin' hot wife." Eddie shouts, and a collection of groans fill the room.
If only you could believe the nice words your husband said.
__
That night in the hotel room, you tell Eddie you're simply too tired to partake in any sexual acts, which he doesn't protest. Laying in the comfort of his strong arms arms, the thoughts are too loud to melt away to sleep. You wonder what Eddie dreams of as you lay awake, if he ever regrets marrying you, and if he wishes he could partake in the same things as the guys. You cry softly, tears pooling on the fabric of your pillow, praying to whoever to is listening to make it better.
The next morning, Eddie is like the energizer bunny when he wakes you up from your four hour sleep. Going to the local diner down the street, Eddie talks about how fun the show was, moving his hands dramatically as he retells you every detail. You try to look interested, smiling and laughing when needed but truthfully you aren't paying attention, you don't even chastise him when he speaks with a mouth full of food.
Afterwards, he shows you around the city and all the sights it offers. It pains you that you can't even enjoy it, too focused on everyone else around you, comparing yourself to every woman that walks past.
Eddie notices, he's noticed since last night but he didn't say anything. At first he genuinely thought you were tired since you never really traveled before, but when you sat across from him at the diner and poked at the food on your plate, he knew. Despite what a lot of people thought, Eddie wasn't stupid. There are many things he had knowledge on and his best subject was you.
He didn't know what was particularly bothering you but he knew all too well. You were in your head about something, beating yourself up about something that wasn't worth the fight, but he knew you could make it out. You always did.
The problem was you didn't fight out of this one. You stayed locked away in the torture chamber that was your mind and let the problem eat you alive. Eddie did everything you always talked about doing, showing you the places you dreamed about and you still didn't crack.
When you returned back to the hotel room, it was oddly quiet. Even Eddie who never stopped talking, was scarily silent. Sitting down on the bed, you started to talk off your shoes, working at the laces slowly.
Eddie stands in the doorway, leaning his body weight on the wall for support. His gaze burns into you, uncomfortably so and you're terrified to even look back at him.
"So are you going to tell me what's wrong?" His tone is serious and it terrifies you.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you meet his gaze. His arms are crossed over his chest and his features are harsh, waiting for an answer.
"I told you, I'm tired." You lie right through your teeth and like a metal detector he catches it, scoffing loudly and shaking his head.
"I need you to cut the shit, Angel. What is wrong?" He questions again and it ignites a fire within you.
"I told you, I'm fucking tired Eddie. Sorry I'm not you, I don't travel the world for a living." You snap at him.
"Are you- What the fuck did I do?" He argues back and you sigh heavily. This isn't how you wanted it to go but all the emotion from the past four years are coming out in knife like jabs.
"What the fuck did I do," You mock him. "What did you do? I'll tell you what the fuck you did. You left me, you fucking left me. Don't worry Eds, I'm happy for you, trust me. I love knowing that I'm the old ball and chain back home that keeps you from fucking groupies. But it's fine if you look, just not touch, right?"
When you're done you feel worse than before. Eddie stares at you, frown pulling on his lips and big glossy eyes that stare back at you. God, you want to kick yourself for making him feel like shit. This all could've been prevented if you just talked to him, let him in on what was happening but no, the demons won and they shot Eddie down while doing it. The worst part is, you pulled the trigger.
"Is that what you think?" His voice is small, something you've never heard from him and it breaks your heart.
"Fuck- I didn't mean that. I just-" Closing your eyes, you try to compose yourself but it doesn't work. "I just miss you so fucking much. Last night I couldn't even enjoy the show because all the tits that were on display in the front row distracted me. All I could think was 'how could he want me when all of these beautiful woman are better than me?'"
"So instead of watching the end of the show, I sat in front of the mirror and made a list of every ugly thing about me. My body, my face, my voice, every fucking thing about me is horrendous. Then when the guys mentioned fucking groupies, I felt so guilty 'cause while they're out havin fun, you have to sit there all alone because I'm all the way in Hawkins."
It all comes out like word vomit, laying on the floor of the hotel room, filling the room with the stench. Your ugly truths are now out there, you're so fucking vulnerable and all you want to do is hide.
"Are you dumb?" Eddie's voice brings you out of your pity party. Staring at him in shock, you can see his own tears staining his face.
"Do you realize that it kills me not being with you? Every city we go to, all I can think about is you and how much I want to take you there. Those girls you're talking about, the ones the guys screw around with? Yeah, I've seen them and let me tell you, they're gross." Stalking the short distance, he takes a seat right next to you on the bed.
"Do I get jealous because they get to have sex? Absolutely. It's not 'cause of the girls they bring home, it's cause I wish it were you. So many nights I laid awake, jerking off to the thought of you and it was way better than any fucking groupie could do for me." You snort at his admission, rolling your eyes still not believing. Grabbing your chin, he pulls your attention up to him.
"I'm so fucking serious, Angel. I'm so in love with you, it's maddening. Sometimes when I call you, I can't help but blush like I'm back in the ninth grade again. It blows my mind every single day that I got to marry the gorgeous girl from Click's class." His words are like warm butter, melting over you and seeping into your skin.
"Do you really mean that?" It's meek and unsure, like you're scared of what the answer could be.
"Cross my heart." He simply says, marking an 'X' over his heart with the tip of his finger.
Sniffling loudly, you wipe away the tears that roll down your cheeks. "I'm sorry, Teddy." You say and he hums, resting his forehead on your just like he did twenty four hours before.
"It's okay, baby. Trust me, I feel the same way sometimes." Furrowing your eyebrows at him, he laughs at the scowl on your face.
"Not like that, baby. I just mean, I get scared one of those hot dads are gonna try to pull a move on you when they drop their kid off." Between the serious look on his face and the honesty in his voice, you can't help but cackle.
"Eddie, who exactly would pull a move? Mr. Gardner? He's like forty and wears a very bad toupee." Eddie tries to cover the snort that comes out with a fake a cough.
"Hey, maybe you're into that kind of thing." He simply shrugs and you roll your eyes.
Settling into a comfortable silence, Eddie kisses you lightly and you pout when he pulls away.
"Can I show you how much I love you?" Your eyes scan his face for a moment before nodding.
"Please." That's all he needs to hear before he's placing you on your back, your head being cradled by the soft cotton pillows.
Eddie starts by kissing you, sweet and slow, reminiscent to the time you and him lost your virginities. The only difference about this time is he knows what he’s doing, confident in the way he glides his tongue against yours.
Moving his attention along your jawline, he places small lingering pecks down your neck. His hand moves down the sides of your body, finding purchase on the bottom of your shirt where he tugs softly on the material. Getting the hint, you sit up and help him pull the garment over your head, your bra is quick to follow.
Laying you back down on the soft cotton of the pillows, he continues his journey down your body. Soft lips leaving prints of love along your collarbones and down your sternum, invisible prints of love collect on your skin where they burn bright and settle into your bones.
“My sweet girl.” He trails more kisses around the doughy flesh of your breast.
Finding the hardened nipple, he swirls his tongue around it before pulling it into his mouth, lightly sucking on it before pulling off with a pop.
“My beautiful girl.” Moving his attention to the other breast, he repeats the same motions from before.
Moving down your tummy, he continues to map out his journey, leaving lingering tattoos onto your skin. Finally making it to his destination, he toys with the waistband of your jeans, popping the button open and pulling the zipper down.
Lifting your hips, you assist him in taking of the restrictive clothing. In one swift action, he rips off the jeans and panties that once covered you. Feeling exposed and shy, you whimper up at him to get his attention.
“What’s wrong, princess?” His tone is concerned and it makes you pout even more.
Wordlessly, you reach your hand down to grab the hem of his shirt where you yank gently. Catching your drift, Eddie pulls it over his head and let’s it fall to the ground where the rest of your close reside.
“You were feelin’ shy, huh?” You nod at his question and he leans up to press his lips to the tip of your nose. “Gotta make sure my girl is comfy.”
Shuffling himself onto his tummy, he places your legs over his shoulders so he can be face to face with your glistening sex.
Kissing the inside of both of your thighs, you squirm trying to move him to the one place you need him most. Tsking loudly, he looks up at you with a correcting gaze.
“Be patient,” he scolds and you listen, biting back your fussing and fidgeting.
A deft finger runs up your slit, moving your slick around as it does. “This pretty cunt is so miserable, huh? She’s sad without me there to make her feel better.”
Taking two of his fingers, Eddie spreads you open to exposing your core causing you to hiss when the cold air hits you.
A swift lick of his tongue hits you like a bullet train, all at once it’s too much but not enough. A sob leaves your throat when he stops, glassy eyes meeting the dark one of your husbands, pleading with him for more.
“You know,” While the pad of his thumb over your aching clit, he continues to keep eye contact with you, “I don’t like when you talk badly about my wife.”
“The strong, smart, loving, and breathtaking woman I married,” He continues his ministrations, not using his other hand to trace around your hole, “Doesn’t deserve to be talked badly about.”
He continues teasing you, not inserting his fingers into your clenching hole and not giving your bundle of nerves enough pressure. He’s making you sweat it out and you think you might die.
He coos sweetly at you, faux pity on his features as he does. “I know, honey. S’it hurt? Want me to make you feel better?”
“Please, Teddy. Please please please.” Your begging falls on deaf ears though, Eddie just continues his evil plan of torture.
“I’ll make it better,” Putting his mouth close to your cunt, you can feel his warm breath and you shy in relief. Moving away quickly, he looks back up at you and you fight the urge to yell at him. “But first, I want you to say you’re beautiful.”
“Wha- Eddie, no! Just fucking- God, just eat me out already!” You yell and he mocks you by laughing.
“Baby, I can leave you high and dry and be perfectly fine. So unless you want to get yourself off, I suggest you do what I say.” Although you know Eddie would never make you take care of yourself, his threat hits you like a lightning strike. His cool demeanor and stoic tone makes you believe every word he said.
“I’m beautiful.” It comes out in a whisper, so low he barely catches it.
“Nuh-uh, say it louder.” Eddie corrects you and the buzzing feeling over embarrassment burns your cheeks.
“I’m beautiful.” This time it’s louder but you don’t sound convincing.
“I want you to believe it. Want you to be nice to my wife.”
Something about the words being said to you makes your heart beam. All of Eddie’s statements to you have been chipping away at the guarded walls of your mind, casting light on the darkness that overshadows it. You start to believe him, you start to let the positive and loving words bring you out of the insecurities that plague your thoughts.
“I’m beautiful.”
You say it at the same volume but this time something in your eyes let’s Eddie know you believe the words you say. The glimmer of light that disappeared 24 hours ago, has finally returned to its rightful spot.
“There’s my girl.” Dimples flash at you before he dives right into you.
Eddie’s tongue replaces his thumb, adding more pressure to the pulsating spot. The finger that once teased you, is not fully seated in you, curled just right while it pumps in and out of you.
He’s not doing much, basically just warming you up for what’s to come, but something about it lights you on fire. The adoration Eddie has for you is being poured into your heart, lighting your body in a glow that he only manages to bring out of you.
Your moans grow louder when Eddie starts sucking on your clit, another finger shoved inside of you moving in and out in a faster speed than before.
You arch off of the bed like you’ve been possessed, whimpering and withering around making Eddie use his unoccupied hand to push you back down.
“Shit, you’re s’tight.” Eddie’s voice comes out slurred, drunk off of the taste of you.
“You gettin’ close? You gonna cum for me, Angel?” You don’t have the energy to answer, too lost in the feeling of your stomach tightening.
Slowing down the speed of his fingers, you huff in aggravation. Eddie’s voice pulls you back down to reality, your bliss slowly starting to fade away.
“I’ll let you cum if you say you’re perfect.” Lifting up on your elbows, you look down to see him already staring at you.
“Eddie I’m not-“ You’re immediately cut off by him, his tone more commanding than before.
“Say it, or you won’t cum at all. I just want to hear you say it.” He begs, his pace starting to quicken and his thumb now going in figure 8’s on your clit.
You’re quickly hurdled back to the euphoria you were just pulled out of. Eyes rolling around in your head, whining as the string in your stomach pulls tighter.
“I’m, shit- M’perfect. Your perfect wife.” You’re a blabbering mess, head thrashing back and forth in ecstasy.
“I’m gonna cum. Teddy, please!” You beg and he gives you exactly what you want.
“Go ‘head, Angel, let go f’me.” With one last stroke on that sweet spot, you’re catapulted into the paradise of your release.
It feels like you’re floating above the clouds, weightless and free. You don’t feel the gush that splashes your thighs or the sheets, and the voice of your husband is nothing but an angelic voice ringing out.
You return back down to the soft mattress, boneless and melting into the bed. When your breathing calms and you finally have the strength to open your eyes, you’re met with a Cheshire Cat like smile and the soaking face of your husband.
“You did such a good job for me baby,” Kissing you sweetly, you can taste yourself on his lips. Pulling away slowly, you bring your arm to his pants, rubbing your palm along the outline of his hard cock.
Shaking his head, he gently grabs your wrist and puts it above your head. “This is about you, Angel. Wanna make you feel good.”
A quiet okay leaves your lips and he continues to work himself out of his pants, letting his dick bounce out of its confides. Saliva pools in your mouth, the desire to taste him takes over and you whimper.
Chuckling at your pouty face, he moves back between your legs that you parted for him. When he runs the tip of his aching cock through your folds, you both hiss on contact.
Lining himself up, Eddie brings his hand to your hip where he rubs his thumb in soothing circles. Both of you moan in unison when he finally breaches your entrance, a feeling neither of you have gotten used to.
Pushing himself further into you, he takes his time to let you adjust to his size, something you still haven’t gotten used to. He stretches you out so nicely, filling you up like nothing else you’ve ever felt. Nothing can compare to him, every bump and ridge of his cock making it even better.
Lacing his fingers into yours, he hovers over you as he starts thrusting slowly into you. A choir of moans are made between the two of you, singing a song better than anything Eddie’s ever written.
With the way your legs are wrapped around his waist, you try to push him in deeper, wanting to stay this close with him forever. This isn’t just about fucking or getting off, this is about the man you fell in love with all those years ago and how he’s appreciating you. He’s trying to show you just how much his heart yearns for you.
“So good, so fuckin’ good for me.” Eddie pants heavily as he thrusts the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix just right.
“Always so good f’me, Angel. You take such good care of me, such a good wife for me.” He’s babbling at this point, reaching the tipping point faster than he thought.
Tears prick the corners of your eyes, all you can think about is how much love you love each other, how good he’s making you feel, and how he was able to pull you out of the darkness of your horrible thought.
Removing his hand from yours, he snakes it down your body to find you abandoned clit. With the added pleasure, you clench harder around him and the air in your lungs seeps out in a high pitched gasp.
“I can’t wait to fuck my load into you, baby. Gonna get you nice n’ round, show everyone you’re mine. You want that? Want me to fuck a baby in you?” His voice echoes in your ears and travels down into the pit of your belly, getting you closer to the edge.
“I wan’ it, s-so bad, Teddy. Wanna feel it.” You’re babbling, toes curling at you tippy toe over the line of your orgasm.
“F-fuck you sound so pretty when you beg. Come on, Angel, cum for me.”
And just like that, both of you unravel together. Him painting your walls in his release, while you guys around him. Eddie works both of you through your highs, thrusting sloppy and lazily into you until he can’t anymore.
Eddie doesn’t pull out of you right away, not wanting to let go of the feeling so soon. He lays on your chest, trying to settle his breathing as best as he can. Bringing a hand to the top of his head, you rake your nails softly into his hair.
Humming in delight, Eddie kisses your chest as a thank you. A small blip of time in a long year, the kind that makes the bad days all worth it. The secrets whispered in hotels and lingering trail that still burns on your skin, invisible kiss marks left for reminders.
It’s worth it, all the hardships and long months, when you know he’ll always find his way back to you. The sweet boy from 9th grade that promised his heart to you, now sings his undying love to you for thousands of crowds to hear.
More tears leave your eyes, not in sadness but in pure happiness. You’re so fucking in love with him and sickeningly so, just like Gareth said.
Swiveling his head up to you, Eddie rests his chin lightly on your chest.
“Hi.” He says meekly.
Eddie doesn’t question your tears because he has tears of his own and he knows they’re for the same reason.
“Hi.” You parrot back to him, a wet smile adorning your lips.
“Do you believe me now?” Sweet brown eyes pulls you in, sucking you in as they stare at you.
“Yeah, I do.” You reassure and he smiles.
Using his free hand, Eddie takes his finger to trace shapes over your heart. You melt when you feel him draw a heart with your initials and his on the inside.
“I wanted to tell you,” He flits his eyes down to his finger where it doodles on your skin, “the guys and I have a break now that tours over. So I was thinking..”
A pregnant pause settles between his statement and he makes no moves to finish it. It reminds you of the first time he asked you on a date, nervous and fidgety.
“What is it, Teddy?” Lifting his chin with your fingers, you raise an eyebrow to coax him into answering.
“I was thinkin’ maybe we could try, ya know, for a family or somethin’. “ Eddie’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are coated in a pink blush.
Your heart picks up and you know that Eddie can feel it under his finger. Smiling with all your teeth, you cheeks ache from the stretch.
“You wanna have kids with me?” Your voice is only a whisper and he giggles at you.
“Well I don’t know if you noticed but, I just blew my whole load inside of you.” The bluntness of his statement makes your cheeks burn. Slapping your hands over your face, you cover yourself from the embarrassment
“Hey, don’t need to get all shy on me now,” Pulling your hands away from your face, he smiles smugly at you. “If I recall correctly you were the one all like “yes Teddy ugh please!!”.” Eddie mocks you and you roll your eyes.
“Bye the way, I’ve been counting every eye roll since you got here and I promise your in trouble when we get home.” He points and accusatory finger at you causing you to clench around him.
“I love you, Teddy. Thank you.” You place a kiss to his lips and he smiles brightly at you.
“Don’t need to thank me, baby. I’m glad I’m here to remind you.” Pecking your lips once more, he pulls a way with an even bigger smile.
“Also, I love you too, Mrs. Munson.”
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roboticchibitan · 1 year
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I remember when same sex marriage was legized in my state (3 years before obergefel vs Hodges which legalized it nationwide). It won by a very narrow margin.
People who had taken care of me when I was young, people who were like second parents to me, (along with half the other people I knew) were saying it was the end times because I could now get married. And I couldn't help but wonder... would those people have protected me, cared for me, let me play with their children, if they had known I would grow up to be queer?
I came out in 2011. I was lucky. My parents were accepting. My mom was clearly uncomfortable at first but she made it clear she loved me no matter what.
Except.
My dad didn't care if I was queer and assured me that didn't mean there was anything wrong with me (in a speech I didn't need to hear but I think he needed to say). But he still said "that's gay" and "that's faggy" anytime my little brother showed vulnerability.
And I was a lucky one. My father used homophobic slurs around me regularly. He turned the word gay into a slur with his homophobic mouth. And I was a lucky one.
When I came out publicly, my grandmother stopped speaking to me for a while. I'm lucky that she changed her mind. I'm lucky that my grandparents let me bring my girlfriend with me when I went to visit them in October. October of 2022 and I still consider myself lucky that my grandparents let my queer partner into their house. My other grandma likewise visited with us, and was polite and friendly, but she still refused to call my gf anything other than "your friend." Still lucky. Incredibly lucky.
People don't understand just how bad things were as much as ten years ago. When I came out at school, I was lucky. No one bullied me. No one shoved me into lockers or called me slurs. They all just stopped talking to me. I became invisible. I went to a small school. I was the only person who was out. Exactly one person talked to me the rest of the year. And I was a lucky one.
When I was in middle and highschool, the go to insult was "that's gay." I heard it constantly. Every day. Sometimes people said it to me to insult me, long before I even knew I was queer.
I was lucky because the worst that happened to me was social isolation and people using slurs around me or turning my identity into a slur. No one called ME faggy. No one beat me up behind the school bleachers. I was incredibly lucky.
I have experienced the word "gay" used as a slur far more than I ever heard the word "queer" used as a slur. Young "queer is a slur and only a slur" people need to know the world you live in is not the world the rest of us live in. Why is "queer" a slur but "gay" isn't? My homophobic father thought the word "gay" conveyed just as much offense and disgust as the word "faggot." So why is queer the horrible word that can never be reclaimed but people say "that's gay" as a compliment now? The loneliest I have ever felt was in a room full of teenagers who thought my identity was the height of insults. So why is gay fine but queer isn't?
I am a fat butch queer and I do not hide that. My shoes have a pride flag on them. I have a masculine haircut and wear men's clothes. I look queer.
And I am afraid. I dress like this anyway, because I want other queer folks to know I am a safe person. I dress how I do partially because I like it but also partially so any queer person in the room, no matter now closeted, can see me and feel a little bit safer. Because I will protect other queer people with my life if need be.
Because I am openly and visibly queer and live in a world where being queer can get you killed. Because it can. Gay bashings still happen. The alt right are getting bolder in their violence, and that includes homophobic/transphobic violence. There are organizations in the US that are actively pushing to make homosexuality punishable by death in Africa. They know they could never accomplish that here. But they would if they could. People want us dead.
Young people need to understand that. And they need to understand that the people who did the most work to free us from criminalization were queer. They identified as queer. And they weren't the perfect law abiding queers toeing the line of what's acceptible. Because being queer itself was illegal. You could end up on the sex offender registry for being gay. In fact, there are queer people who are STILL registered as sex offenders just because they were queer in 2001. Pride wasn't a permitted parade with wells Fargo floats. It was angry queers illegally marching down the streets, screaming "We're here. We're queer. Get used to it."
Being openly queer is a radical act. It is still a radical act.
I did not live through Windsor vs the united states, the referendum 74 debate, my father punishing my brother for being human with homophobic slurs, and the pearl clutching fearmongering about "the gay agenda" (that was a go to phrase for 2012 homophobes) for some LGBT kid to come at me with TERF bullshit they got off tiktok about how my identity is a slur and I'm a horrible person for using it.
I was a lucky one and I'm still saying "no, absolutely not" to this bullshit.
Queer is more inclusive. Queer accounts for any possible fluidity because people change. Identities change. Queer is there for people who know they're Something Different but are not sure of the details yet. Queer is intentionally vague. When you're young you want everyone to know exactly who you are but as you get older you realize actually my identity is none of your business. In fact, sometimes when you tell someone your identity, you're handing them a bludgeon for them to hurt you with.
If you have trans classmates, you do not understand the world the rest of us grew up in. Trans people were not a public topic. They were not even acknowledged as existing by most people. I didn't know what being trans was until I was like 17. I'm nonbinary now and consider myself trans 10 years later.
And I didn't even have it that bad. But you know what? It still sucked and it was still hard and I can't imagine what it was like to grow up a decade before I did. I had it easy compared to most people.
If you can jokingly say "that's gay" when someone expresses queer love, then you can fucking handle people using the word queer as their identity.
The infighting and policing each other has to stop. You're oppressing queer people with this bullshit. It does not matter what words queer people use to describe themselves when there are people actively killing us. What are you doing? For fucks sake look at the bigger picture. Direct all that rage at our oppressors and the people who mean us harm. Queer people and he/him lesbians and bi lesbians and people who use neo pronouns and whoever else is the discourse of the day do not deserve this kind of treatment. Punch a homophobe and maybe you'll feel better.
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shivroygirls · 10 months
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roman roy + his dog motif.
excerpt from emily wilson's foreword to a translation of homer's odyssey / i wanna be your dog by ajj / the owl and the tanager - sufjan stevens / unknown source / saint bernard - lincoln / the woman that loves you - japanese breakfast / house of wolves - my chemical romance / epitaph to a dog by lord byron / unknown source / heather havrilesky, ask polly: help, i’m the loneliest person in the world! / julius caesar, act IV, scene 3 by william shakespeare.
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utwo · 2 years
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The loneliest House in the WORLD - Iceland
© © Hörður Kristleifsson
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blueberryblogger · 12 days
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Fabian Seacaster the loneliest boy in the world because even though his parents shower him with wealth, money cannot buy people caring about you. Money cannot buy your mother wanting to talk to you on the phone. Money cannot buy not being sent to voicemail when you call your dad.
Money can't buy your friends noticing that you are agonizingly alone in your giant house & even though money CAN craft a space that people want to be in, you can't get rid of the knowledge that they aren't there for you.
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53v3nfrn5 · 4 months
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The Loneliest House in the World Location: Elliðaey, Iceland
Originally built in the 1950s as a lodge for puffin hunters, this house is often referred to as the most secluded home in the world. There is a widespread misconception among foreign fans that the Icelandic singer, Björk, has lived on/owned the island. This misconception comes from a speech by the Icelandic prime minister, who in year 2000 said he would be willing to allow Björk to live for free on an island in Breiðafjörður which is also named Elliðaey. The artist, however, never purchased the island or a house there. Today, the island is deserted with no residents since the 1930s
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lavendermunson · 5 months
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Gorgeous - steve harrington
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chapter 1 of miss americana and the heartbreak prince
summary you are on a break from tour and all of your plans get wrecked by a lovely baseball player.
tags famous!singer!reader and famous!baseball-player!steve. each chapter will have it’s own warnings, none for this one except consumption of alcohol. just pure fluff. i changed the name of the chapter sorryyyyy!!!! no use of y/n
w.c 2.2k
masterlist | series masterlist | next chapter
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You’ve reached the half of your tour, and Wednesday’s show was the most energetic. Now you find yourself yearning for some much needed rest during your month-long break. You can already picture yourself making a nest on your bed, doing nothing but sleeping and watching your favorite tv show.
Life takes unexpected turns, it’s Friday now, and one of your friends has invited you to a party. She said it wasn’t a ‘big thing’ but the house was full, the music wasn’t so loud and you wanted to thank the host for it. You miss your bed, and your cats, but it’s also nice to see some of your… friends. Not that you have too many, there’s always a struggle on trusting new people. 
You try to relax your shoulders as you make your way to the kitchen to get a drink. On your way, everyone keeps complimenting you about the successful tour you’ve had.
Since you started making music, the growth of your career has been massive. Rich and famous people often prioritize numbers and records, focused on ‘who does it first’ ‘who wins the next award’ and tons of material shit you don’t care about. You wish someone would appreciate your music as you’ve always seen it, art. It’s an extension of you, a way to feel yourself free while being connected with your fans through truthful and poetic lyrics.
The kitchen is empty, only two people hang around kissing and touching each other like they are invisible. Something in your body aches whenever you get to watch someone giving affection to their partner. It’s inevitable, you yearn for that.
Being a successful person does not always mean you get what you want in your personal life. Sure, you’ve had dates with interesting people but no one sticks around to see the true you. Most of the time they only want to hang out with you, have a date or attend an event only to get their five minutes of fame.
Now that you think about it, maybe you don’t have time to settle down with someone and that’s  disappointing, you really crave for someone to snuggle with and have a fun loving life. Dance around the kitchen, play around at the beach. 
It seems everyone has time for love but you. Everyone does the best, or worst, time on dates while your dates always have paparazzi and people at home watching the pictures, focusing on who you are dating instead of what you do, what you feel, and who you are. It’s more exhausting than performing love songs about fictional people that you’ve created in your head.
You wish your personal life was getting better as your professional life, tour, and travel days are planned, you always get your favorite breakfast, and the love that radiates from the fans makes you glow. It’s a different story when you’re alone in a hotel room, you start to feel like the loneliest person in the world. How can someone perform for 30,000 people and yet feel so alone five hours later?
Being on tour is exhausting, but for a couple of minutes on that stage, you feel powerful. It’s the safest place you have, for now.
You are in desperate need of the strongest drink you can get. So, you reach for a bottle but as you reach for it, a hand is pressed against yours. You gasp at the sudden touch and look up to see who it is.
Famous baseball player Steve Harrington appears from out of nowhere. The touch feels warm, you blush as he looks at you with a grin on his face.
“Soft spot for whiskey? This is my favorite one too” he says, your lips parted as you feel the heat on your face.
Keep. Yourself. Together.
“Uh…” you didn’t even realize it was whiskey, I just grabbed the first thing I could find” you confess, biting your lip as you miss the warmth of his hand. 
“You weren’t going to pour this fine whiskey on that red cup, were you?” a chuckle escapes from his lips. He is cocky, he grins like he is the king of the world, and you… you like it.
“I- I just wanted something stronger than this beer” You let the red solo cup on the table focusing on his movements.
“Let me handle this” he makes his way through the kitchen looking for a cup worthy of his favorite liquor. He manages to get one, it’s not the same one he hand-picked since the party started but he believes it’ll do the job. He adds a couple of ice cubes and pours the whiskey, just the right amount.
As he hands you the cup, your fingers briefly touch, sending shivers down your spine. You don’t know what’s got you so nervous, please, you are the queen of the world right now. 
“Thank you,” you say, taking a sip of the drink. As the liquor travels through your throat, you can feel it burn. It’s a feeling that leaves you pleased, this is exactly what you were looking for. “Wow, it’s delicious”
“I know, the best whiskey in this state,” he says. “I’m Steve Harrington, by the way,” he gets closer to you, his hand reaching out for yours.
You shake his hand, your cheeks feel hotter than ever. “Nice to meet you, I’m-”
“I know who you are,” he whispers, winking with a grin. Letting go of your hand he finishes his drink in a sip. He wipes the corner of his mouth and grabs the bottle of whiskey. “It’s too loud in here, do you want to join me in the backyard?" The house fills with voices as someone else arrives and everyone goes to the front porch to greet them.
“Sure” you nod, now holding your drink between your hands. You follow him to the backyard, small and shy steps– far from your usual confident self.
“Here, I grabbed this blanket earlier. You can sit with me” He offers you a spot on a blanket, sitting down and getting comfortable.
You take another sip of your drink, feeling the whiskey fade the nerves away. “It looks like you had this planned out” You leave your cup on the grass, letting the ice melt a while, to make it less strong. 
He laughs, looking at the stars in the sky. You get lost on his features. The way his nose is perfectly shaped, his eyelashes are long, the little freckles on his face lit up by the yellow little lights in the backyard. “I wanted some space. I have a game on Sunday and I got dragged to this party… I tend to just find a place for myself. It looks like you needed a break too”
You notice how his nose scrunches up when he mentions his game. You bet he didn't know that you were aware of his existence, but you did. It was impossible to dismiss him, he has been one of the biggest and most famous players since the season started. Your dad and your friends talk about him. On tour, some people on your team watch his games before the show since the games are early. His face covers some of the biggest places in the cities you visited on tour. 
“Is it a big game?” you curse yourself, of course it is. But you know nothing about baseball so he lets it pass. He looks at you with a sympathetic smile.
“It is, the team we are going up against is one of the best. I don’t tend to talk about it days before or I will get nervous” he confesses, leaning his head to one side and looking at you like you are the most beautiful jewel in the world.
“I don’t believe you” you laugh, shaking your head.
“What?”
“You, getting nervous. Your team has won over and over because of you, people on my tour team always brag about how you are the best”
Steve blushes at your words. He is fucking blushing and lets out a nervous but cute laugh.
“Don’t tell me you don’t get nervous after a show” his cocky grin comes back, you reach quickly for your cup to take a sip.
“I don’t,” you say.
He leans back, eyes wide. His lips parted in surprise.
“You don’t? How?” he asks.
“I do the same every night. It’s all choreographed, the one who is always nervous is my tour manager. But me. I don’t know” You let your head fall to look at the cup, and you shake it slowly so the ice cubes make a sparkly sound. “When I get on stage my heart just fills with warmth and I know there are people who are having the best time just because of me”
“That sounds very romantic” he searches for your face, and you look at him.
“It’s the closest I will ever get to romance” you sigh, feeling a sense of shared understanding.
“Hey, cheers to that!” he says.
“Cheers!” 
You clink your glasses together. The night slips away, accompanied by Steve, whiskey, and sharing stories.
He is sweet, he has a true passion for his job, loves his career, and his team. You didn’t like to talk about work, but what else would you talk about? Work consumes both of you, it's easy to realize that. He is in every poster, you are in every magazine. Social media is filled with pictures of you, good news, bad news, fake news. 
“It’s comforting to know someone is as married to their job as I am,” he says, his words slurred from the whiskey.
“I don't like to call it a work, it’s more like…” you begin.
“A dream come true,” he finishes for you.
“A dream come true, yes” You agree, feeling your head already spinning, the bridge of your nose hurting and your back giving up after sitting on the grass.
“Can I just tell you.. You are not what people say you are, well, not entirely” he says suddenly, whiskey doesn’t make Steve confident, it makes him dumb.
“What do you mean?” you worry, your body tensing in anticipation.  You’ve read all of the nasty things people have said about you, but it only hurts when it comes from someone you like or care about. Was he about to say something mean?
Steve could never say something hurtful. He respects people so he can be respected in return. He’s experienced the harshness of the media as well, he has somewhat of a bad reputation.
“You are an icon. But right now, you are just… you” he shrugs. “You look so unreal in those magazines and right now you look like a fire in a cold winter” he gets closer to you, and the gap between you disappears. “I mean, you are not just a record breaker, you radiate an energy that makes me... too comfortable for my liking”
“Are you…”
“I am serious,” he says, looking at your face, admiring all of your features. He knows you are cute, perfect, and talented. But now he realizes you are also sweet, you have a warm personality and a calm that surrounds you everywhere you go. “Talking to you made me forget everyone in the world knows my name, it’s like you are the only one who knows me”
“Like we know each other's little secrets?” you ask, reciprocating his feelings. Talking to him also made you forget about the millions of people who are listening to your music every night. That your face is on every little girls’ bedroom wall.
“Like we are each other’s secret” he whispers, so close his liquory breath tingles against your lips. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please” you whisper too, your entire body is burning. What you said earlier wasn’t a lie, you don’t experience romance very often.
“So cute and polite” he rests two of his fingers on your chin to bring you closer. Steve gently presses his lips to yours, moving them softly as you catch up with his movements.
The kiss is slow, but your heart is beating faster than ever. You only get this feeling when you are on stage, he only gets this feeling when he wins. 
His thumb slides to your neck as his fingers rest in your cheek. Your face is between his hands, and you could swear you see stars, a glowing pink aura surrounding the two of you. This feels too good to be true.
When air is needed, both of you separate from each other. You touch his arm to keep him closer as he looks at your face, lips puffy from kissing.
“Guys! Pizza is here” someone inside the house screams, the scent of greasy food making its way to you.
“I don’t know about you but I'm really hungry,” he says, getting up and offering you a hand to help you get up.
“Me too” Your cheeks are still pink, he notices and almost falls on his knees at how adorable you look. You take his hand and get up, your chest bumps against his. 
“There is one thing everyone says and it's that you are beautiful” he looks at you with his pretty brown eyes.
“Do you agree?” you ask.
“You are fucking gorgeous”
You laugh, getting on your tippy toes to leave a kiss on his cheek.
“We are each other’s little secret, remember?”
You nod in agreement, understanding the secret bond you now share. Steve smiles and drops your hand, disappearing into the house. You let out a big sigh, you are so going to make a song about this, but for now, it’s a secret you’ll keep locked away from the world.
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I hope you like this series, feedback is appreciated! don't forget to REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR! . ♡
DISCLAIMER. you already know who inspired this, I want to clarify i mean no harm for the people in real life and what happens in this is just inspired by them, it's not based on true events. comment to be part of the tag list!
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this sentence really knocks me the fuck out - i think i would peg it as the moment last year that the last of any distance i had with the book dissolved. the image itself is quite striking: jonathan, bravely asking for the very worst information he could possibly hear, and even more bravely maintaining enough of a semblance of calm as he listens that he won’t stop being a source of safety and comfort for mina (who, after being kept in the dark, no one even bothers to suggest should not listen to the details of her own violation - because so much is going on they don’t think about it? because nothing can be worse than knowing it happened? because it is so clearly impossible to argue right now with jonathan who wants both information and to stay with mina?).
but something really gets me also about the way the image reaches us, filtered through seward’s half-clinical language, introduced with a reflection on his own state of mind (it interested me, even at that moment). there’s something in there of the sheer horror of the moment, seward retreating into the pose of detached observer as a place he knows and feels safe in ( @vickyvicarious had a very cool post recently tracking seward’s shifting between personal and clinical language as lucy was dying/turning in a way you can read similarly), but there is to me also inescapably something of Jack Seward, The Loneliest Man In The World, who has only recently felt that his house was a home, who was moved by the devotion of lucy’s maid to brave her fear of death so that lucy’s body would not be unattended, who feels very far away from the kind of closeness and intimacy he is witnessing between jonathan and mina but can’t help even in the midst of horror being struck by it and who finds it leaves enough of an impact that he notes it as part of the record of this dark night… it’s so human and so rich and such a wonderful thing to make space for in one of the darkest and most dramatic scenes in the book!
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darlingmbappe · 1 year
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The Loneliest [3] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader
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[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]
Summary: While Kylian lets jealousy get the best of him on the pitch, you find that a tequila-filled night might be the answer to healing your broken heart... even if it's just for one night.
Warnings: Still just absolute angst. Missing your ex, Kylian being overprotective and jealous, Erling Haaland being a dick (i'm sorry it's purely for plot purposes), heavy drinking, self destructive behavior, cussing, bad cheese puns, let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —
The breakup was bound to go public sooner or later. It was surprising you made it almost seven weeks before the media got the hold of the story. You both were spotted alone on separate sides of town too many times, you’d missed all of his matches, and E!News got a source that told them you live alone now. You have a strong hunch it’s your next door neighbor that’s always lingering by the stairs. She asks entirely too many questions.
While you were still with Kylian, your relationship was kept mostly private and you rarely found yourself in any headlines. But, lord knows, if there’s anything the press loves more than a celebrity engagement is a celebrity breakup. When you saw a graphic of your face and Kylians face photoshopped onto a broken heart on Snapchat, a clickbait title asking, “did our fav football couple call it quits?”, you knew you’d be getting some unwanted attention. Fuck you, Daily Mail. Mind your business.
You clearly remember agreeing with him to wait for you to text first, but he’s a damn liar. He didn’t let a day go by before sending you a sweet good morning text. For the past three weeks, he’s been sending little messages here and there. Nothing too risqué or anything that made you feel pressure… they were actually nice. You’d been pretty good at not responding, being occupied doing absolutely anything else to stop yourself from thinking about him.
Kylian knew this. Being with you for such a long time, he understood how you got when you didn’t want to think about something. When your family dog passed, you claimed you were fine over and over again, and he just had to let you hyper fixate on new random hobbies until your feelings eventually exploded out. You taught yourself claymation, knitting, refurbishing old creepy dolls… that was definitely his least favorite. He needed to make sure you didn’t force yourself to forget about him, he wanted to be there for you when you were ready. He’s patience is usually very thin, but he’s impressed with himself for staying (mostly) zen about you not responding. He had to. He couldn’t fuck this up again and come swinging with the ‘I love you’s that he types out and erases promptly.
It’s finally Friday and you just finished a late lunch at your favorite café near your office, just listening to music on your headphones and reading through a document you were about to send to your colleagues. Your phone buzzed with a message from Kylian and, of course, you clicked the notification. You always did.
He’d sent you a picture of a decorative board at some market with a cheese-remix of the song Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics. You immediately laughed out loud, having seen this exact sign before with Kylian years ago. For weeks after, you two sang the lyrics randomly around the house, in the car, pretty much anywhere until all of your friends were begging for you two to just shut the fuck up.
Sweet dreams are made of cheese, who am I to dissa-brie, I’ve travelled the world and the feta cheese, everybody’s lookin’ for stilton.
Your fingers began to respond before you even had a chance to really think about it.
(Y/N): Not this shit again
Kylian smiled widely upon seeing that you sent something back, typing back in record speeds.
Kylian: I think it’s…….. grate
You actually smiled at his horrible pun, twirling your hair against your own will.
(Y/N): very cheesy
Kylian was so quick to look up more cheese puns, not wanting to let his roll come to an end. Any communication, even about cheese, worked for him.
Kylian: it’s very gouda to hear from you again :)
“Oh, man.” You mumbled to yourself, noticing how your heart rate increased with just a couple of his really really bad jokes.
God, you missed him so much.
You stood up, leaving the conversation there, gathering your things and turning up the music. Yet, the whole walk back it was impossible to focus on whatever was playing in your ears because of the louder song playing inside your head. Sweet dreams are made of cheese…
Kylians thumb was lodged between his teeth in anticipation, but soon realized you weren’t going to respond again. Lowly cursing to himself, he threw his phone back in his locker. Everyone was prepared for todays game against Manchester City, especially Kylian. He wanted to win so bad, it almost felt like the World Cup.
He knew who he was going to play against — Erling Haaland. If he wasn’t too fond of him before, finding out he hit on you on you brewed a different kind of determination to win inside of him. You said nothing happened that night and he believed you — but he knew that Haaland had more in mind than just a nice conversation. He noticed last week that he followed you on instagram and liked all of your recent pictures, not including the ones with him. As of last night, you still didn't follow him back. Those late night stalking sessions have to stop soon. His nutritionists is really getting on his ass for finishing entire jars of peanut butter every other day.
He wondered if you were going to watch the game or if you had been since you left. He really hoped you hadn’t been. He’s been playing horribly these past weeks. Once the news of your breakup went public, every commentator made a point of mentioning it and saying stupid shit like, “life goes on, and that’s something Kylian Mbappé is going to have to figure out sooner or later.”
He let his angry thoughts fuel him as he walked into the tunnel. He tried to get his head in the game, but couldn’t help looking back every so often to the opposing team next to them, eyes always landing on the tall blonde man.
He stood in his place, but his neck twisted back against his will, not really caring if he was being too obvious. Right before the teams were meant to walk out together, Haaland caught his death glares. Kylian doubled down, making sure he wouldn’t be the one to lose this immature staring contest. Holland cracked a shit-eating grin and winked at Mbappé.
Oh, the rage… keep it in, Kylian.
He looked away with an unbothered “pft.” It wasn’t very convincing, not even to himself.
After the usual opening ceremony, the whistle blew indicating that the match had begun, sending Kylian sprinting in every direction as the game progressed. ManCity was good, but he knew PSG was better. He kept telling himself this, but his teammates continued to mess up, even allowing the light-blue motherfuckers to score the opening goal not even twenty minutes into the first half. And, of course, it was Haaland that buried the ball deep in the back of the net. He watched him celebrate on his pitch, listening to the crowd cheer their chant, feeling tortured and helpless.
His eye was fixed on the Norwegian as he moved back into the starting position, hating that he was laughing, still on a high from scoring. Hakimi walked next to Kylian, feeling that his friend is on the brink of doing something very dumb. His hand patted his shoulder, but Kylian didn’t even notice it, his entire body twitching with jealously.
When Kylian was in earshot, Haaland nodded up at him. “Kylian.” The young player called, but Kylian just side eyed him. Hakimi grabbed his shoulders tighter just in case he tried anything. “(Y/N) is up for grabs now, no?”
Kylians ears rung as he felt himself launch at Erling who just laughed. Hakimi had gotten in front of him without missing a beat, roughly shoving him in the opposite direction to keep him from beating up the 22 year old. Other PSG players joined, guiding Kylian to his position.
He didn’t even know words were coming out of his mouth at this point, pointing his finger threateningly at Erling. “Don’t fucking talk about her. I’ll fucking kill you. You hear me?” He was well aware that this was all to get in his head but, shit. It’s working. Kylian didn’t even notice that the referee was being talked down by Neymar and Messi, eventually the confrontation getting waved off with a warning at the start of a new play.
Halftime rolled around and no one scored again. In the locker room, Glatier yelled and waved his arms, demanding that the defense get their shit together. He zoned out, too deep in thought about what an asshole that guy is and how he wants to score and rub it in his face. He was brought back when he heard his name grumbling out of his coaches mouth, having no idea what the topic even was.
“Sorry?” He embarrassingly piped up, seeing all of his teammates had their eyes on him.
Glatier grunted, stomping closer to him. “I said, get your shit together!”
“Yes, coach.”
“Don’t worry about what they say. Just go out there and play like I know you can. You want to win, don’t you?”
“I do, coach.”
“Then let’s fucking win.”
Glatier was right and he knew it. Whatever that stupid hulk-boy had to say about you was only getting under his skin. He couldn’t play at his best like that.
So, when the second half started and he heard him say some bullshit again, he did his best to let it roll off his back. “You think she’ll respond if I DM her?” Erling asked nonchalantly to Álvarez, but Kylian was determined to let it slide. Let it fucking slide.
But, he didn’t stop there. When walking by him, Haaland asked him, “What’s a good spot to take her? Nothing too far, my hotel room is around here.” Kylians fists were balled in rage, biting his cheek and blowing air out of his flared nostrils.
“You better shut your goddamn mouth.” He snapped back, but continued walking away, knowing he can’t let him win. Hearing Haalands taunting chuckles behind him almost made him whip back around, but Neymar wrapped his arm securely around his shoulder, forcing him to look forward.
“It’s just talk, Kylian. Come on.” He rubbed his head roughly as if to beg him to not let it get to him before running back into position.
The game progressed, only ten minutes left of the second half before overtime. Neymar was at the left side of the field, preparing himself for a corner kick. Kylian searched for an opening that could potentially bring a scoring opportunity, but a brooding shadow seemed to follow him everywhere. Haaland was aggressively playing defense against him, his height advantage making it impossible for Kylian to move somewhere better.
“I hope she wears something nice and tight.” Erling chortled through his tired breathing. “I’ve been waiting for you to mess things up with her. I’ve had my eye on her for months… She’s so hot.”
His mind went blank, completely blank. It must have, because he didn’t remember shoving Haaland down onto the pitch, fists pulling back. He was seeing red, but his teammates dragged him off before his punch could land right on his cheek. Before he knew it, the ManCity players were charging at PSG. The whistle blew about a dozen times as the crowd got louder.
Kylian couldn’t stop trying to shake off his friends, screaming past the wall of light blue toward the blonde man on the ground pretending to be seriously injured, clutching his arm.
“Say that again! I fucking dare you!” Kylian threatened, Ramos clinging onto his shoulders, walking backwards.
He was pushed away far from the scene as his whole team began to fight with the other players in solidarity, the referee preoccupied with calming down the situation.
He was for sure already getting a red card, so his mindset was fuck it. He sprinted around the fighting crowd who immediately recognized his intentions, getting back in front of him before he could reach Haaland to really do some damage.
“Stay the hell away from her. I’ll end you, you son of a bitch. Off this pitch, I swear to god you’re dead.” Kylian talked out of his ass, already walking himself off the pitch when the referee held up a red card. He waved him off, spiting on the grass as he made his way back through the tunnel, ignoring the coaching team screaming at him altogether.
ManCity ended up winning 2-0 and Kylians suspension was decided to extend for two matches. He didn’t watch the remainder of it, but when he found out Erling Fucking Haaland scored the other goal, it felt like the knife was twisted. Fuck that guy. The press conference after was hell, having to claim that he deeply regretted his actions and that this doesn’t reflect his character or whatever his PR team wrote up for him.
He truly did feel like a dumbass. He absolutely hated how much he let those comments affect him. He knew he should’ve just blocked it out but how was he going to let him say that stuff about you? The way he talked about you like you weren’t even a person, like you weren’t the love of his life. Sure, he felt like a dumbass, but he would defend you to the ends of the earth.
He got home to his empty house, throwing himself on his sofa, flipping on ESPN to watch basketball highlights. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep. Usually, he’s opposed to naps as they throw off his sleeping schedule, but recently he’d found them comforting; an easy escape from everything going on. Besides, his sleep schedule was already bonkers from the breakup.
He swears his eyes were only shut for five minutes, but he woke up to complete darkness. His TV even timed out, neck sore from the stiff throw pillows supporting his head, groaning so loudly that it echoed inside the vacant home. It was only when he picked up his phone to check the time that he realized you were even calling. The faint buzzing was probably what woke him up.
“Shit.” He shot up, wiping the sleep from his face as he answered quickly.
He cleared his groggy throat. “Hello?”
He faintly heard you saying his name, but the music in the back was pounding. “Kyyyyks!”
He laughed to himself, loving the sound of his nickname for the first time since your breakup. “Hello? (Y/N)? Are you drunk?”
“Hold on.” He heard you yell from the other line as the music got softer in the background. “Hellooo.” You giggled.
“Hi.” He giggled back.
“I woke you up.” He could hear the pout in your voice, having to bite his lip to keep his smile from getting ridiculous.
“No, no I don’t mind. Call me anytime.” Kylian began twirling his hoodie string on his forefinger. “Are you okay?”
You nod, but he can’t hear you. Your drunk brain didn’t catch up. “I think so.”
“You think so? Where are you?” Concerned, he looked at the time. A little past 3:30 am. Damn, long ass nap.
“Umm…” You paused to look around you, seeing no signs anywhere and finding it kind of funny. “I dunno. I lost them ages ago.”
“Them?”
“Yeah, my friends.”
He stood up. “Wait, wait. Are you by yourself?”
“Mhm!” You chirped, now walking away from the club, alone. Your skin-tight tights gave you no warmth at all, but the tequila that flushed your system had you covered. “Kyks…”
“Yeah?” He waited for you to say something, his concern for you growing, wishing he still had your location so he could go look for you.
You paused, looking around the dark streets. “I mi…” your sentence drifted off and you laughed off what you were about to say. “… I’m so drunk.” You stumbled further down the street, a loud club with red lights oozing from the entrance peaking your interest.
He knew what you were about to say, but wasn’t going to push it. “I can hear that. Do you need a ride? I can come get you right now, just send me your current location.”
“No, I’m fine! Look, I found somewhere safe!” You point, even though he couldn’t see. “Oh, my god. You’ll never believe who’s here. Oh, shit.”
“Who?” Kylian asked over the phone.
You giggled. “I don’t wanna tell you, Kyks. You’ll be mad. I saw what happened today during the match.”
He was tempted to quirk a smile hearing that you have been watching, but then it dawned on him. It couldn’t be… “Haaland?”
What are the odds? Erling Haaland stood outside the packed nightclub with a few of his teammates, surrounded by women and men, all trying to get his attention. He hadn’t seen you yet.
“Oh my god, you’re such a good guesser.” You clapped. “God, I forgot how tall he was.”
He grabbed his keys, putting his shoes on, holding the phone up to his ear by his shoulder as he rushed around his home. “Please just let me come pick you up. I’m worried about you, where are you? I’ll take you home.”
You got closer to the LED sign. “It’s called… uh… la petite robe noire… oh my god! That’s what I’m wearing!” You cheered.
He put you on speaker and looked it up. Jesus, you were so far, he wondered if you’d started out around there or if you’d ventured out alone. He revved up his engine, backing out of his driveway. “Stay there, I’m coming. Okay?”
You didn’t respond, your phone now by your side as Erling spotted you, jogging over to where you were standing.
“Hey!” You waved, letting him come to you because your heels hurt too badly. You couldn’t hear Kylian on the other line trying to get your attention.
“Hello, beautiful.” He leaned in and hugged you. You kind of hugged back, too drunk to balance yourself upwards that way without falling into him.
As soon as he heard that fucking accent over the phone, he pressed his foot down on the pedal, hoping he hits every green light in Paris. You, on the other hand, forgot you were still on the line with your ex fiancé, but hung up when you realized it with a giggly “oops!”.
“Didn’t think I’d run into you, how are you, (Y/N)?” Haaland asks, placing a steady hand on your waist to keep your wobbling frame from tipping over.
“So good!” That was a lie. You were out tonight drinking away the pit in your stomach since the match. You’d watched sneakily from your desk, fingers tugging at your roots when you saw the little incident during the first half. During those last ten minutes, you felt like you were going to throw up.
Why did you have to tell Kylian about Erling? What happened today definitely opened him up to a lot of criticism from his coaches, the team, the media… You couldn’t help but feel a little responsible because you knew he could behave himself if he never knew about that night on the balcony. On the other hand, it was kind of… very hot. Jealous Kylian was never your favorite, but you can’t stop yourself from feeling something spark in you. Or maybe you were just horny. Who’s to say? It's been so long...
“You’re good?” Erling accent repeats, grinning down at you. “Sorry to hear about your breakup."
"Pffft." You laugh. "Yeah right, you two were never exactly friends."
He shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You're right. I'm not sorry." He smirks, looking you up and down. If your head wasn’t filled with liquor you’d feel kind of gross, but his flirty stares didn’t mean anything to the drunken body you found yourself in tonight. It all went right over your head. He nods his head toward the club. "Come on, let's get you a drink, yeah?"
You followed him in, the lights were blurry and the ground wasn't very stable. The vibrations came up from the ground, making you feel like someone was shaking your brain around. You were absolutely not thinking straight, and it only got worse when a bottle girl came over to the section with Don Julio. It was all so fast, like the lights flashed and you were suddenly with someone else, or in a different part of the club, or dancing, drinking, stumbling.
Fuck, you had to get out of there.
Kylian arrived at the club and he definitely did not fit the dress code. But, despite his grey joggers and Nike hoodie, he was still Kylian Mbappé, so he got in without any issue. Ideally, he wouldn’t have to risk being spotted at a nightclub that Erling Haaland was at, but he did it for you. He politely smiled at his fans but weaved past people begging for a selfie. He called you plenty of times from the car, but you never picked up.
Once inside the club, he lifted his hood and put on some sunglasses, hoping this wouldn't cause a riot without his security to lead him through the crowds. People were too focused on grinding and not spilling their drinks to notice the international superstar frantically searching for one single woman in a sea of them.
He looked up at the sections on the second floor, finally spotting that tall blonde bastard, wasting not a single second before making his way up, security letting him through once he flashed them his famous smile.
"Haaland!" He cups his hands around his mouth, hoping that he knows where you are. "Haaland!"
He finally turns around, knitting his eyebrows at the sight. "Kylian." He steps around the models to stand close to him, the loud music making it impossible to communicate from even a few feet away. "What? You didn't get enough of me on the pitch today?"
Kylian rolls his eyes. "No, man. I'm just looking for (Y/N). I know she was here."
"Yeah, she was." Erling laughed. "She's wild, for sure. Don't know where she went, though."
"What? She's not here?"
Haaland shrugged. "She went to the bathroom and never came back. Why do you even care? Like I said, she's up for grabs. She's not yours anymore."
If he wasn't so worried about your current wellbeing, he would have grabbed his stupid little ponytail and gone full Fight Club on him. But he didn't, instead he shook his head at him and made his way down from the section before he regretted not throwing a punch or two.
His concern grew. He never thought he would wish you were with Erling Haaland at a nightclub, but at least he could find you then.
Kylian stood on a ledge hoping to see your hair or face anywhere from a birds-eye view, but had to leave promptly when the partygoers caught onto his less than great disguise. A security guard from the club lead him to the back exit, warding off flashing cameras in every direction.
Thanking the man when he was safely outside with a fist bump, he walked himself down the dirty metal steps, sighing. "Putain." He walked to is parked car, leaning on it to try and think a little, wondering how he’s going to find you. He really isn’t familiar with this part of town, but he'll stay out all night if he has to.
He wished you’d just pick up the phone, ease his jittery nerves. Just as he was about to click on your contact, he heard some slurred singing further down the alleyway he was in. The faint tune sounded familiar, but the voice definitely was. It was you.
He followed like a siren sound, turning the corner to see you sitting on a small cement step, head resting on your curled up knees, giggling to yourself as you continued the song.
"Sweet cheese are made of cheese, who am I to *hiccup* disa-cheese..."
"I think you've messed up the lyrics there, love." He smiled, letting out a breath he’d been holding now knowing you're okay.
You gaze up, smiling widely, gasping and jolting up, wrapping your loose arms around his neck and letting your legs go limp.
"Woah, hey..." He exclaimed with a laugh, grabbing your torso tightly to keep you upright.
"You're here!" You gaze up, grin wide as he peered down at you, smiling as well. "Whadda coincidence!"
It was like he didn't just spend hours worried sick, now feeling somewhat at ease. Your presence is all he needed for every weight to be lifted off his shoulders. He only cares about making sure you get back home with a glass of water on your nightstand and a trashcan at your side.
"You okay? Why are you out here by yourself?" He guides you to stand properly on your own, but you didn't let your grip go, so he didn't either. He let his hand stay on the small of your back, his other gripping your hip.
You shrug, scratching your fingernails against the nape of his neck. He shivered, goosebumps running down his body, letting a flustered giggle escape his lips. You stared deep into his eyes. Your funny demeanor simmered down, finding the familiar warmth of the man in front of you to be more intoxicating than anything you've drank tonight. "You always loved when I did that..."
Kylian's heart got caught in his throat, gulping it down along with the urge to hold you so tightly. He'd been craving your touch, spending many sleepless nights wondering if he'd ever get to feel you again.
"Let's get you home, okay?" He mumbled, running his hands down your arms to unwrap them from his neck. He held one of your arms as he bent down to grab your phone and purse from the dirty floor.
He started guiding you to his passengers seat, but getting you there wasn’t an easy task. Your heels kept getting caught in the cobblestones so he had to keep a steady hand around you in case you fell. He buckled you up like a toddler, doing his best to ignore the googly eyes that you made at him.
When he got in drivers seat, he looked over at you, a rush of memories making his heart flutter.
All of the times he would turn his gaze away from the road for just a second to see you. The way you smiled when you rode with the windows down, sticking your arm out to feel the rushing wind outside the car. The way he used to be able to put a comforting hand on your thigh while he drove and you'd draw circles on his knuckles mindlessly, rambling about anything that came to your mind. The way you would always unwrap a piece of gum for him because you didn't want him distracted, even though he would never not get distracted by you.
He shook the thoughts out of his head, clearing his throat. "So, what's your address?"
You laughed, taking your heels off. "I dunno."
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"Geez, Ky. I've only lived there for like..." you counted in your head, but numbers barely made sense sober, "...not that long."
"Do you have it on your phone?" He pried, handing you your cell.
"Yes!" You cheered, snatching it only to see that it was out of battery when the screen reflected back at you. "Ah, man. It's dead!" You pouted, throwing it in the backseat, crossing your arms.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, turning on the heat higher when he noticed the chills running down your arms. "I can take you back to... uh..." he stuttered, having to stop himself from saying our place, still getting used to living there alone, "—back to my place."
You gave him a look, raising your eyebrow dramatically. "Nice try, Casanova." You chuckled.
He laughed too, rubbing his eyes. "No, come on, (Y/N). There's like five beds. I wouldn't take advantage of you like that."
You bite your lip and stare at him through your lashes. "I'd let you."
God, that stare. That tone. He's internally cussing himself out for all those times he told you he wasn't in the mood or too tired. He wished he could go back in time and slap himself.
He quickly shook it off, laughing dryly and having to look away from you. “You are so drunk.”
With that, he put the car in reverse, beginning the half hour journey back to the home that still has pictures of you on the walls. The home that still feels like it’s yours, the one that Kylian prays he’ll see you wake up in again… at a time when you’re not absolutely plastered, of course. For now, he’s content looking over to your sleeping figure in his car, slowly breathing and shifting every so often.
Once he pulled into the garage, he got out and made his way to open the passenger door. “Hey,” he gently put a hand on your cold shoulder, “we’re here, bébé.”
He didn’t mean for the nickname to slip out of his mouth, but it did. It actually woke you up, your heart thumping at the four letters that used to be so familiar to you, so intimate.
“I’m tired.” You grumble, putting your hands out toward him, slightly less drunk, yet nowhere near sober. “I forgot how comfy your car is.”
“Wait ‘till we get you into a real bed. You’re gonna sleep like a rock.” You grabbed his forearms and stumbled out of the car, Kylian quickly grabbing your heels, phone, and purse.
For a drunk, you moved surprisingly fast, beelining to the kitchen. He followed you in, attentive to your wonky steps. He set your belongings down on one of the barstools, turning to see you leaned inside of his fridge, grasping the handles for balance.
“You hungry?” He grins, walking around the kitchen island and leans against it.
“Mm… you got rid of all my snacks…”
“Uh, not true.” He quipped, opening the cupboard and pulling back a red box, the sight bringing a big smile to your face.
“Pancakes?!”
He opens the cabinet bellow him and pulls out a sleek black press, confident smirk spreading to his cheeks. “Waffles.”
You cover your mouth in excitement, stumbling backward a bit but catch yourself on the island. “No way.”
He nods, eyes twinkling at your enthusiasm. You look so pretty in this kitchen. It’s nostalgic. It feels warmer now that you’re back here, even if he’s just pretending to forget that you’ll have to leave in the morning.
“Go sit. They won’t take long.” You do as he says, hopping into a stool as you watch him begin to mix the ingredients in a bowl.
Your mind drifted to the last time you saw him. The way his chin quivered when he cried over you, how much it hurt to tell him you weren't ready and that you may never be. It was still true. In a more clearheaded scenario, you probably wouldn't be here with him right now. If alcohol didn't seem like such an inviting bandaid to your aching mind and heart, the feelings you'd been suppressing would likely have stayed suppressed... where you honestly wanted them to stay. Opening yourself back up to be loved by the same man that made you question yourself was still incredibly scary.
"Bon appétit." He placed the plate in front of you.
The waffle was dusted in powdered sugar, a small butter square in the middle was surrounded by sliced strawberries. "Oh... my... god..." You salivated, picking up the fork and knife he handed you and devoured the first bite, moaning in gratitude. "Oh my god." You had no other words.
Kylian laughed, picking up his own fork to dig into his less pretty waffle, standing across from you. "Yeah?"
He didn't get a verbal response back, but knew you meant it upon seeing the manner in which you inhaled every crumb on your plate. Your late night snack was gone too soon and you wanted more, but your drooping eyes and full bladder convinced you that sleep was better.
Kylian took his last bite, grabbing your plates and setting them in the sink. "I think it's bedtime."
You agreed without saying so, hopping off the stool and took the route to the master bedroom. You could walk there with your eyes closed and you might as well have. The sleep deprivation mixed with your drunkenness lead you straight to the dresser, opening up the top chest on your side to grab a t-shirt.
When your crossed eyes looked down at the empty drawer, it was sobering. You let out a shakey breath, clasping your hands in front of you. "Right..."
Kylain stood by the door, frowning at your stillness. The small window of bliss he had with you just seconds earlier shattered upon seeing your sorrowful face looking down at the drawer that used to contain your things, now containing nothing but memories of what used to be.
Silently, he walked over to you, gently shutting it for you. He opened up his side, handing you one of the shirts you left folded for him. One of your favorites. "Here."
You give him an attempt of a smile but don't actually look at him. "Thanks."
He goes to leave the room but you stop him. "Wait. Where are you going? I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms. I'm not taking your bed."
"No, please. You just get some rest, okay?" He almost whispers, taking in the sight of you standing in this room again before he went to close the door.
"Ky?" You breathe, locking your eyes on his. There was something you wanted to say, some words your throat closed up on, leaving you with nothing else but silence. He stayed still, his adoration for you threatening to spill out of him the longer he stared at you. You draw a subtle breath upon feeling your emotions pooling in your eyes. "Thank you."
Kylian felt the weight of your otherwise simple words, taking context from the way you were looking at him. "I'll always be here for you."
With that, he reluctantly closed the door behind him, trudging to the bedroom closest to you.
The room spun as you laid down on your favorite pillow, beyond comfortable under the duvet you picked out yourself. You wished you never went drinking tonight. If you'd just stayed home and pigged out on ice cream you wouldn't have to face the truth that's been slowly crawling to the surface.
Your eyes shut much too quickly to really explore the sentiments you've uncovered tonight, but that's probably for the best.
Kylian's mind was racing and he only hoped you couldn't hear how loud his brain was from the next room. Under the guilt and self-pity he's been swimming in for weeks, he finally felt a sliver of optimism beginning to grow inside of him. It was such a tender feeling, a feeling he let lull him to sleep, content knowing you were just on the other side of that wall.
A/N: The amount of times this deleted..... I was going crazy. Thank god that I started saving every draft on Google Drive or else I probably would have stopped writing out of frustration. Big things coming for (Y/N) and Kylain! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'm sorry about having to make Haaland an asshole bc I really do love him. It was just to move the plot along <3. Also I didn't know all of the soccer terms in english so forgive me if I messed any of that up. Love all of you and thanks for reading!
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mayipleasehavebread · 16 days
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I Can See You - Chapter 3
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Kendall Roy Masterlist
Pairing: Secret Office Romance Kendall Roy x Fem Reader
Word Count: 9k
Chapter Summary: You and Kendall (unsuccessfully) attempt to adapt to your strictly professional relationship
Warnings: Age gap (reader in her 20s, Kendall is 39), swearing, brief mention of sexual assault (waystar cruise scandal), comfort, light smut (making out, grinding)
A/N: Apologies for the long wait!!! Had a lot of ground to cover with this chapter lmao, hope you guys enjoy it! Will do my best to have chapter 4 out sooner :)
Chapter Theme Song: Fire For You by Cannons
*No use of Y/N
“Hey, looking forward to working with you as well. Enjoy England!” 
Kendall sits alone at the back of the Roy jet, baseball cap pulled low over his forehead as he stares at your text. He’s looked at it so many times over the last few days that he thinks there may be a permanent imprint of it etched behind his eyes. 
He rereads it again, wishing your exclamation point had been assigned to the first sentence rather than the second. That’s what you should be more excited about - working in close proximity with him every day, not him having a horrific few days on the other side of an ocean.
Obviously he knows you aren’t aware of what this trip was for him. No one would guess that a few days in England with his family would make for one of the most miserable weeks of his life, or that he would board this plane feeling more alone and hopeless than he ever has before. The trip coming to an end is alleviating, but only partly. The shame he carries with him about the night of his sister’s wedding, the heaving guilt that is constantly sitting in the middle of his chest, has grown exponentially since he left New York. Seeing the dead kid’s house, meeting his family, being unable to confide in anyone, not even his own mother, about it… it’s bleak. It’s so fucking bleak and he’s now convinced that he will be living with this level of anguish for the rest of his life. It’s the loneliest feeling in the world. 
The pilot announces that they’ve begun their descent into New York. Kendall locks his phone, the bright light from your text disappearing to black. It’s still there though, right behind his eyes. 
————————————
Your week goes relatively smoothly, considering how it began. You and Jess finish your training by Tuesday afternoon, and the rest of the week is spent mostly just preparing you to fully enter the Waystar world. You meet a few other important executives, as well as their assistants, and you’re pleased to find out that you are definitely not the least qualified in the bunch. One assistant, Greg, who Jess tells you is actually a Roy cousin, stumbles awkwardly through your short interaction with him, using words he clearly doesn’t know the meanings of multiple times. He reminds you a bit of a newborn giraffe in terms of physical build, grace, and intelligence. If he can survive in this world, then you definitely can. 
When Friday rolls around, you’re surprised to realize that you actually feel pretty good about your future at Waystar. You understand your tasks, are getting used to the routine, and no longer feel overly intimidated by the workplace. All that’s left to do now is learn how to maintain a professional working relationship with a man who has seen, touched, and been inside your naked body. Ugh. You have until Monday to deal with that though, a full two days to relax and reset before the real work begins. No need to stress yourself out about it too much yet. 
It’s almost 7pm when Jess tells you you’re good to head out for the weekend. “9-5 isn’t really a thing at Waystar, especially when you’re an assistant,” she explained on Monday, so she’s been dismissing you later and later every night this week to prepare you for what’s to come. For now, you don’t mind too much. It’s not like you have any friends to make plans with or any money to do anything exciting with. The extra one or two hours are usually just spent at your desk while you and Jess exchange life stories, so you enjoy the opportunity to socialize. You can definitely see it becoming a frustrating expectation in the future, but you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. 
You grab your jacket and bag from your desk as you prepare to head home, the knowledge that you won’t be back here tomorrow giving you a lightweight, relaxed feeling. After saying goodnight to Jess, you head toward reception and push the call button for the elevator. The office is quiet, but not as quiet as you would expect it to be at 7pm on a Friday night. 
‘This is part of why the Roys are billionaires,’ you think to yourself. ‘Running themselves and everyone around them into the ground.’ 
As if conjured by your insubordinate thoughts, the elevator doors open, and you’re suddenly face to face with Kendall and a man you’ve only seen in the many Waystar training videos you’ve watched this week - Logan Roy. 
You take an automatic step back to give them space to exit the elevator, clutching your jacket close to your chest as if to protect your core from an enemy attack. You and Kendall stare at each other for a second, both of you looking like deer in headlights. He was clearly not expecting you to be at the office this late, and you were not expecting him to be back in New York this early. The surprise appearances the two of you keep making are never ending.
Kendall clears his throat as his dad exits the elevator first. Logan doesn’t even look your way until Kendall speaks and gestures to you.
“Uh, Dad, this is one of our new hires. She’s just started working under Jess as an administrative assistant.” 
Logan stops and gives an uninterested “oh” as he turns to you and extends his hand for you to shake. You return the gesture and introduce yourself, telling him what a pleasure it is to meet him and work for Waystar. 
“Good to have you aboard,” he nods. 
You’re not sure where it comes from, maybe your lifelong need to be liked, but the urge to say nice things that you don’t actually believe suddenly takes over.
“Thank you. Really, it’s an honour to work for such a longstanding company. I’ve always admired Waystar’s consistency; how you’ve been able to maintain such a steady brand presence and image for decades is beyond impressive.”
Your praise has piqued Logan’s interest ever so slightly. “Glad you see it that way,” he remarks approvingly. “Consistency is what keeps our customers loyal, it’s crucial to our success.” 
You nod. “I completely agree, and your track record in earning the consumers’ trust and then keeping them loyal… it’s very admirable.” 
“Well, thank you,” Logan responds. “Hopefully you'll contribute to maintaining that consistency during your time here.”
“Absolutely, any way I can. Maybe I’ll have to adopt my own Waystar uniform or something so I can get into the right mindset.” You give him a sweet smile with your joke, internally hating yourself for being such a kiss-ass.
To your surprise, Logan emits a light chuckle and gives your arm a grandfatherly pat. “Good attitude,” he smiles, “that’s what we need around here.” 
Your smile grows at his reaction. You may be a kiss-ass, but this feeling of relief, knowing you managed to not completely fuck up this interaction, makes it worth it. You suddenly remember that Kendall is also present and your eyes quickly flash to him, hoping you’ll be able to see what he thinks of your conversation with his dad. 
Though you may have forgotten he was there for a moment, but you’re painfully aware of it now. His gaze is fixated on you, and he doesn’t look impressed. He looks… you’re not sure there’s an exact word for it, but the closest one that comes to mind is mystified. Not like he’s fascinated by you, but more like he’s looking at a math problem that he can’t seem to figure out. Intense concentration mixed with deep confusion and a sprinkle of frustration.
You’re suddenly desperate to end the conversation. “Well I won’t take up any more of your time Mr. Roy, but it was a pleasure to meet you.” 
He gives you a nod and another pat on the arm. “You too,” he says, and then he begins to walk away. Your gaze flashes back to Kendall, whose expression hasn’t changed from the last time you looked at him. He stands there for a second, watching you as you press the elevator call button again and not saying anything when you finally look up and hold his eye contact. His brows are slightly furrowed and you think he’s bound to make some type of comment, but he doesn’t. He just walks away, following his dad deeper into the office and leaving you to stare after him. 
The elevator dings behind you as it arrives, snapping you back to attention. You stumble inside, fidgeting anxiously with the buttons of your jacket as the doors close and you begin your speedy descent to the ground. You no longer feel like you have all weekend to relax, you know you’re going to spend the next two days doing nothing but replaying that short conversation over and over again in your head. What did you do to warrant that kind of reaction from Kendall?
Your commute is always cramped and tedious, but it feels 10x busier and longer today. You spend the entire subway ride with your headphones in your ears but nothing playing, which you don’t even notice until you get off at your stop - your mind has been making enough noise on its own. Eventually you reach your street and start to feel like you might be able to relax; you just need some food and TV to distract your brain. Just as you’re approaching your building’s front door though, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out and your heart stops.
Kendall Roy
2 Text Messages
You freeze in your tracks, your fingers rushing to unlock your phone. You don’t want to give yourself time to theorize what his messages might be about so you open them immediately. 
“Have to say, that was both impressive and unsettling to watch.
You didn’t fuck him too did you?”
A shocked laugh escapes your mouth. Definitely not what you were expecting to read. You begin typing a response as you push the front door of your building open with your shoulder. 
“Lol no, but you should still be worried. Clearly I’m naturally gifted at winning over members of the Roy family.” 
You hit send before you can overthink it. His second text was the furthest thing from professional, so there should be no issue with you playing into the banter that he started. 
Your phone buzzes again before you’ve even entered your apartment. 
“Oh I am, anyone who can tame a Roy needs to be taken seriously. 
Gotta keep an eye on you before you charm your way into my job next.” 
You pull your jacket off and then toss your bag onto the couch, flopping down beside it as you smile at your phone. 
“I was thinking of just taking your company shares actually. I’ll let you keep the COO title and office, it’s the least I can do.” 
You know that texting like this is dangerous. It gives you and Kendall the opportunity to continue developing a personal relationship when you should be solely focused on your professional relationship. But… fuck, you really like him. You two click so seamlessly; talking to him, joking around with him, being intimate with him… it all comes naturally. If you’re going to be in each other’s lives and can’t do the physical intimacy part, you should at least get to have a little bit of emotional intimacy. It wouldn’t make sense to completely deprive yourselves of your connection, right? 
That’s what you tell yourself when your Friday night texts to Kendall turn into Saturday morning ones, and then into a conversation that continues until the end of the weekend. The banter is still present, but your messages to each other also take on a more sincere tone. Kendall is almost always working in some capacity so his texts arrive irregularly, but when he does respond, he surprises you by actually seeming interested in how you’re spending your weekend. You give him little updates of your adventures around the different Manhattan neighbourhoods, and he makes jokes about you being a lame tourist, but he also wants to know your opinion of his city and what you’ve been most interested in seeing. The urge to make a “you should show me around” comment feels impossible to resist, but you manage to hold your tongue. It would be hard to pretend that your text conversations have been completely innocent after making a suggestion like that. 
When Monday arrives, you actually find yourself excited to be fully working with Kendall rather than nervous. Continuing to flirtatiously tease each other at work is obviously out of the question (especially when everyone thinks you’ve only interacted once for less than 10 minutes), but you’re just happy you get to be around him. Your text conversations this weekend have fully cemented your fondness for him. His wit, his intelligence, his perceptiveness, you love it all, and the more you learn about him, the more you want to continue learning. It’s a dangerous realization to come to, but you tell yourself that it’s not a big deal. As long as Kendall stays professional, you can too.
You get to the office early, and Jess is, of course, already there (you’ve learned that you can show up as early as you want, but Jess will still be there first). You begin the day by reviewing Kendall’s general schedule for the week together, and you’re surprised to learn that he’s going to be crossing the pond again, but this time to go to Scotland for an event being held in his Dad’s honour. God, is he ever actually here? 
Today, he is. He shows up a little after 9, wearing the stern expression that you’re still getting used to. The confident smile that crinkles his eyes, the smile that initially attracted you to him, is hard to picture when you watch him in his natural habitat. He gives you and Jess a neutral greeting as he strides into his office, and you begin to understand why one of your first impressions of him was that he belonged in any room he entered. It’s probably hard to not feel that way when you’re the prince of an empire and can see the effect your presence has on others. Everyone in the room sits up straighter when Kendall walks by, and you notice yourself do it too. The last thing you want him to think is that you aren’t taking this job seriously, so you remind yourself to always look like you’re hard at work. 
Kendall has a meeting with some of the other top executives shortly after arriving, but it’s not long until he’s back in his office and calling you and Jess in.
“So let’s uh, go over the week,” he says, looking down at the paperwork on his desk as you and Jess sit down opposite him. “And then Jess, I want to make some changes to the script for that… recording studio bullshit I have to do for the uh, Dundee thing.” He looks up at her at this point, but his eyes haven’t travelled in your direction even once. 
“For sure,” Jess nods before turning to you. “Why don’t you take it away with the main points for the week.”
“Oh yeah, um, sure,” you say as you shuffle through your documents and then begin to summarise the central tasks Kendall has this week. Board meetings, lunches with shareholders, calls with Scottish reporters about Logan’s upcoming Dundee celebration, his expected attendance at the preview for a play that his brother Connor is financing, etc. Once you get through all the boring stuff, Jess fills him in on the more nuanced and personal information he needs to know, which includes mentioning the ridiculously long email that Connor sent about Kendall’s ‘enthusiastic presence at the preview being of the utmost importance in order to set the tone for the play’s run.’ Kendall sighs. 
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly. He looks up at Jess - he hasn’t made eye contact with you even once yet. “Could you get him off my back somehow, like, I don’t fuckin’ know…” he trails off, thinking of what it’ll take to get Connor to shut up. 
You jump in. “We already arranged for the playwright - Willa?” You look over at Jess to confirm the name, and she nods. “To receive a bouquet from you the night before the preview, but we could include the entire cast if you’d like? Make it a bigger gesture?” 
Kendall finally locks eyes with you. “Oh, yeah, that’s, uh… that’s good, go ahead with that. Please,” he adds before looking back the pile of documents on his desk. “Is that everything?” he asks as he looks up at Jess, his eyes briefly flashing in your direction. 
“Yep,” she nods. “Do you want to start making those changes to your script now?” 
With your role in the meeting being complete, you gather your things and leave Kendall’s office, settling back in at your desk on the other side of the glass wall. 
————————————
Jess pulls out a physical copy of the script she’s workshopped for Kendall. Her draft is good, but Kendall knows it needs to be more explicitly complimentary toward his father. Gotta do whatever it takes to keep him happy. 
“So, what were you thinking of adjusting?” she asks as she scans the page, placing it on his desk between them.
“Oh um, something about him always being there for me, or…” he trails off, his mind elsewhere. “Uh, was it your idea to send flowers to Willa?” He can’t concentrate until he’s confirmed something for himself. 
Jess looks up from the page and shakes her head, explaining that you had taken the initiative to write a response to Connor saying how excited Kendall was to attend the preview, and then arranged for a bouquet to be sent to Willa. All Jess had done was given you the go-ahead to send the already-written email, and her permission to order the flowers. 
“Right,” he responds, “right, okay, thanks,” and then he directs his attention back to the script in front of him. He can feel Jess looking at him questioningly for a moment, and he knows that what he just did was suspicious as fuck. At Waystar, it really doesn’t matter who had an idea first, it only matters that bad ideas are rejected and good ideas are implemented. Confirming who suggested the (pretty basic) plan to quiet Connor’s cry for attention is not even remotely important, and Jess knows that. Kendall just couldn’t stop himself from hearing more about how you operate. How you took control of the Connor situation, the way you sweet-talked his dad, the fact that, so far, you’ve been more than capable of acting like you and Kendall never spent a night together… it’s bizarre. 
“Let’s uh, fuck it, let’s put in something about my dad being there for my, uh… many ups and downs or whatever,” Kendall suggests, hoping to distract Jess from his unusual behaviour. She nods and searches the page for a suitable place to make the addition, and Kendall allows himself a second to look over at your desk. Unfortunately, Jess looks up at him before his gaze leaves you. 
————————————
Your week speeds by. Kendall isn’t always in the Waystar building, but the quality of your day multiplies when he is - not just because you like being around him, but also because when you are, you can see that he’s just as aware of your presence as you are of his. You sometimes catch him sneaking glances at you from his office, and he comes out to your desks semi-regularly to make requests of Jess that definitely could’ve been done over the intercom. One day, when you’re settling back in at your desk after making a cup of tea in the kitchen, Kendall gets back to his office from a meeting and notices your drink. 
“Those aren’t cheap, you know,” he comments as he walks by your desk. “Teabags are, what, like 3 fuckin’ dollars now? If you’re gonna have multiple every day, we’re gonna have to start taking that out of your pay cheque.” He smirks at you, and you can’t believe he’s actually doing this while Jess is sitting directly across from you. You haven’t seen him ever joke around with her, is this not noticeably out of character for him?
You try to react like a new assistant would with a boss she doesn’t want to disrespect - politely engaged. You laugh lightly (very lightly, can’t have Jess thinking you’re flirting) and smile. “I think it’s more like 20 cents, but okay, I understand, gotta do what you gotta do to keep this place running.” You shrug good-naturedly (“Nothing to see here Jess! Just being agreeable with the boss!”) and turn back to your work. You think you’ve hidden your connection with Kendall pretty well until Friday night rolls around. You’re just about to head out when Jess calls you over. 
“Hey, sorry, can you hang back for a minute?” she asks.
“Uh yeah, of course. What’s up?” You settle back into your chair opposite her, resting your jacket and bag on your lap.
Jess leans forward on her desk and glances around. The office is relatively empty, and no one is seated near the two of you. Deciding that it’s safe to talk, she turns back to face you. 
“Well, you’ve been here for 2 weeks, I just wanted to see how you’re feeling about everything so far.” 
“Oh, um…” The way she asks the question catches you slightly off guard; this is definitely not a formal performance review, it feels much more like a personal check in. “Really good, actually. Everyone is pretty nice, I think I’m handling my tasks well… yeah, I’m feeling good about it all.” You nod to indicate that you’re done speaking, but she looks skeptical.
“… So everything’s totally okay?” she asks. Again, this doesn’t feel like official Waystar business, and she isn’t presenting the question in an accusatory manner, she seems… concerned. 
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Yes, everything’s totally okay,” you nod. “Why?” 
She leans forward a little further. “I’ve just… I’ve noticed that Kendall’s been paying… extra attention to you.” 
Your heart drops. Fuck. Does she know? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 
“Like I said on your first day, he’s a good guy but he can be a bit, um, unsteady at times, and you know, he’s been a billionaire pretty much his entire life so he isn’t always conscious of the kind of power he holds…” She raises her eyebrows at you as if to hint at what she’s trying to say, but you don’t want to give any indication that you know exactly what she’s been noticing. You give her your best confused expression instead. “I just mean… you can tell me if you ever feel uncomfortable. Sometimes he just isn’t aware that he’s crossed a line that normal people wouldn’t.” 
You pretend to finally realize what she’s suggesting. “Oh! Oh no, I haven’t felt uncomfortable at all.” Thinking on your feet, you come up with a valid reason for Kendall’s heightened attention around you. “I just mentioned to him, when he was showing me the copier room on my first day, that I was a little nervous to work here, which was probably a stupid thing to mention to my new boss during our first conversation, but I think after hearing that he’s just been more conscious about me, like, fitting in and being comfortable at the company, so he’s been paying closer attention.” You realize that you’re rambling and hope she assumes it’s because you feel bad that Kendall’s being wrongly accused of harassment. “So no, I haven’t felt uncomfortable at all, but I really appreciate you looking out for me.” You give her a smile of gratitude and she smiles back, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. You breathe an internal sigh of relief. 
“Oh, okay good. You’re doing really well so far, I just wanted to make sure that everything else was okay too.” She smiles again and emits a breathy “whew” sound. “Cool, I feel better now. Sorry to keep you behind longer, please, go have a good weekend.” 
“Thanks Jess, you too. I’ll see you on Monday.” You give her a little wave and try to stay composed as you make your way to reception while your mind screams at you. Having to act like you’re not freaking out in the elevator as it stops at multiple floors on its way to the ground is a cruel test of self-control, but you eventually make it out. The fresh air that hits your face when you finally exit the Waystar building helps you settle down a little, but not enough to completely erase your sense of urgency. You don’t hesitate in pulling your phone out to message Kendall. 
Though you haven’t been texting each other as consistently as you did this past weekend, you haven’t exactly been ignoring each other either. Your conversations are generally innocent, usually just teasing jokes that you can’t make in the office without seeming too friendly (comments a little more intimate than pointing out your excessive tea consumption), but it’s now clear that you weren’t hiding your friendship as well as you thought. You rush to compose a warning text for him.
“Jess commented on you paying “extra attention” to me. We need to tone it down.”
You quickly hit send before re-reading the text. It’s not until it’s already been delivered that you realize that you didn’t mention anything about covering for him, or that she doesn’t seem to be suspicious anymore. It’s no surprise when you receive an incoming call from Kendall not even 20 seconds later. 
“It’s okay, I handled it,” you say the second you pick up. You explain your lie about ‘confessing your nerves’ to him in the copy room on your first day, and that what Jess has noticed is just him keeping an eye on you. “She seemed to believe it, so if she asks, just pretend like you’ve become an empathetic person overnight.” You can’t stop yourself from adding in that little dig at the end, it comes too naturally with Kendall. 
“Hey, I’ve got the empathy of fuckin’ Gandhi,” he quips. “I let you keep your job, didn’t I?”
You scoff. “For your ego’s sake, I’m gonna let you pretend that I didn’t have you backed into a corner. But seriously,” you add, your voice taking on a more serious tone. “Maybe we need to… take a step back from talking for a bit? Just until we can be friendly with each other less noticeably?” 
Your heart aches for itself. Talking to Kendall, joking with Kendall, flirting with Kendall… You’re ashamed to admit that your interactions with him, whether by text or in person, have been the clear highlights of the week. Your conversation with Jess is a rude awakening though, and you think it’s maybe time for you to focus your attention on someone other than your boss.
Kendall is silent on the other end for a few seconds. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll, fuckin’, uh, I’ll just see you when I get back from Scotland then.”
You want to take it back, you want him to resist, but unfortunately, neither of you does what you want. 
“Okay, yeah, I’ll see you next week. Have a good trip and uh, enjoy the play tonight.” Kendall just responds with ‘yeah, thanks,’ and hangs up. You stare at the black screen for a moment, angry with yourself for getting into such a stupidly risky situation in the first place. You allow yourself a few seconds of self pity before you unlock your phone, open the app store, and download Hinge. 
————————————
Kendall hangs up and stares out the window of his chauffeured car’s backseat. He’s a few minutes away from the theatre where Willa is holding her play’s preview, and if he didn’t want to go before, he definitely doesn’t want to go now. 
The disappointment he feels is frustrating. You aren’t dating, you aren’t fucking, he can’t even really say you’re friends because you don’t hang out with each other outside of work. He’s not really losing much by not being able to text you anymore, so why is this so disappointing? He chalks it up to you being the one to suggest taking a step back. His marriage to Rava aside, it’s very rare that he’s not the one to end things (not that this was even a relationship to begin with, he reminds himself again). He’s just frustrated because his assistant was the one to say that they shouldn’t text anymore, that’s it. He just needs to find a new person to focus on, someone who he can feel a bit more in control with. 
The car pulls up to the theatre. He opens the door and steps out, ready to be Kendall Roy. 
***
Willa’s play is shit of course, but one aspect of it manages to hold his attention. An actress - this pretty woman with short brown hair - catches his eye and keeps it for the entire show. He practically beelines his way to her at the after party and doesn’t hesitate to turn the cockiness and charm up to 1000%. She’s cute and bubbly, he’s definitely attracted to her, and she seems to be attracted to him (or his money, name, whatever), so he takes her home that night. The sex is really good, but for some reason the entire thing feels… off. Something about her isn’t clicking for him, but being alone isn’t really an option for him right now; he can’t just not have someone else to focus on after his call with you. He throws himself completely into this fling in hopes that eventually, he’ll start to like her more. 
He does it all. He love-bombs her, he invites her to Dundee, he holes up with her in their lavish hotel room, he shows her off to his family, but none of it works. What is he missing? He’s back in the swing of things, getting his ego stroked and his dick wet, she’s hot, and he gets to play the role of the swaggering billionaire who exists in a perpetual state of unshakable confidence; it’s all the things he usually finds some semblance of pleasure in, but not this time - this feels so much more vacant than usual. It’s infuriating, why is this being taken from him as well? 
He finds himself growing increasingly frustrated with her for not properly fulfilling her purpose of being an easy distraction, but he knows that his anger is misplaced. It’s not her that’s ruined this for him, it’s you. 
Her interaction with his dad is the nail in the coffin. Having his father’s approval is the single most important thing to him, and with her on his arm, he can kiss whatever respect Logan may still have for him goodbye. Even if, like you, she had aced her conversation with his father, he doubts it would’ve mattered. He knows why it feels empty; he hasn’t actually earned her affections like he did yours, and he doesn’t really care to. Whether she knows the real him or not doesn’t matter, because this thing with her doesn’t fucking matter. He sends her back home early and wonders how much more depressing his life can get.  
————————————
Your Monday morning starts the same way it normally does. You get to work early and Jess is already there, ready to review the day ahead with you. Her behaviour this morning is a little more serious than you’ve seen before though.
“So there’s been some developments with the Brightstar incident…” she starts, and you can tell she’s already exhausted. “A whistleblower came forward, and he’s provided concrete details about what happened in cruises, and how it was all covered up. There’s going to be a federal hearing and Kendall will be testifying, so we…” she sighs. “We’re gonna have our work cut out for us this week.” 
As you two get down to business, it becomes clear that it’s really just Jess who has her work cut out for her. She’ll be joining Kendall in Washington and working with him and the rest of the executive team to form a strategic plan for his testimony. Your week won’t be much different from the last two. You’ll be staying in New York, holding down the fort, and rescheduling every single one of Kendall’s obligations for the near future. 
For you, this couldn’t have worked out any better. You’re only in your third week, so not having to learn anything new or dive into the dirty side of the corporate world is ideal when you’re still getting comfortable in the role. It also means that Kendall will be gone for at least a few days, which will make this transition of not speaking to him slightly easier. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
For Kendall, you’re concerned. Why exactly is he being called to testify? Because he’s the son of the CEO? Or because he played some part in this? Jess doesn’t give you many details about what this means for him, and you don’t press her for any. You’re not sure you want to know how involved he was with the cover up; you want to believe the best of Kendall, and if you learn that he was complicit in this kind of shit… the thought of it makes you feel sick. 
Kendall and Jess leave for DC the next day, and you continue on with your week as scheduled. It’s weird being the only one there. You aren’t completely alone in the giant Waystar offices obviously, but without Jess and Kendall there, you’re pretty much just working by yourself and not answering to anyone. For this reason, you don’t hesitate to pull up the livestream for the congressional hearing on the day that Kendall is set to testify. 
Tom Wambsgans is called first. You learned from Jess recently that he’s actually Kendall’s brother-in-law, and his assistant is Greg, the Roy cousin you met last week. Tom absolutely butchers his testimony in a way that gives you the worst possible second-hand embarrassment. ‘Good god,’ you think to yourself, ‘this company really is just a shitpile of nepotism.’
Kendall and Logan are next. Kendall sits next to his father with a stern look on his face. It’s the look that has completely replaced the crinkly smile you initially associated him with. You miss it. 
Logan begins his testimony by attempting to gently brush aside the accusations, but when that doesn’t work, he doesn’t hesitate to throw Kendall under the bus. Your heart rate skyrockets as it becomes clear that Kendall is now the main target. Fuck, the last thing you want to do right now is watch what happened with Tom happen to Kendall. The senator questioning him seems ready to play hardball, and though you suspect that Kendall might be capable of striking back, watching him actually do it is hypnotic. 
No stutters, no swearing, no filler words. He uses ‘sir’ and speaks respectfully while also turning every accusation back on the senator. The way he commands the room with his testimony is mesmerising, and as you watch him control the situation, you feel something change - a different type of attraction to Kendall is rooting itself inside you, and you don’t attempt to stop it. Since the day you met him, you’ve thought he was handsome, smart, funny, sexy, all that good stuff, but right now… god, this is a side of him that you hadn’t fully seen yet and you need to see more. You want him to aggressively push you up against a wall before he has his way with you. You want him on top of you, talking you through it while he brings you over the edge. You want him to lay claim over you, to tell you that you’re his and only his. You feel your heart rate pick up again. 
His testimony ends and you close the browser. Fuck. You shouldn’t have watched this. It’s the furthest thing from ‘out of sight out of mind’ you could’ve done. Your brain is swimming with thoughts of Kendall. Kendall kissing you, Kendall touching you, Kendall fucking you. And now, you have to get ready for a date with someone else. 
This week seemed like the perfect time to do it - waste no time and put yourself out there while Kendall isn’t around. You started matching with people on Hinge and eventually connected with someone you could see yourself having some fun with. He asked you out for drinks tonight, and you were originally planning on going home after work to change and get ready, but you don’t give a shit anymore. He’s not Kendall. It doesn’t matter.
You dump the contents of your bag out onto your desk. A tube of chapstick and some blotting papers are the only beauty products you have with you. Sighing, you dab at your face with the blotting papers and apply the chapstick. You’ll quickly fix your hair in the bathroom before you leave, but unfortunately, that’s all the prep this Hinge guy is going to get from you today. 
You hang around the office relatively late. Your date is at 8pm, so it isn’t until 7:30 that you finally stop spinning from side to side in your desk chair and leave the building. When you arrive at the bar and meet your date, you immediately feel guilty. He’s good looking, he’s well dressed, he seems excited to be on this date with you, and you couldn’t care less about him. You could be on a date with the man of your dreams right now and it wouldn’t matter because he’s not Kendall. “Hit us as hard as you can, we can take it. We have nothing to hide,” in Kendall’s deep, assertive voice replays in your head over and over, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get excited about the man sitting in front of you. 
You’re able to make it through 2 hours before you just can’t pretend to enjoy the date anymore. He offers to walk you home, but you don’t accept. He doesn’t pressure you, just tells you that he had a good time and he hopes you get home safe. You end the date with a hug before going your separate ways, and you know that you will never see that man again. 
The journey home is a daze filled with negative self talk. Your mind is stuck on the only man in the city that you can’t have, and when a perfectly good alternative is presented to you, you can’t do anything except think about Kendall. God, you’re a fucking mess. 
It gets worse when you finally return home. You begin digging through your bag for your apartment keys, ready to just crawl into bed and sleep this day away, but they’re nowhere to be seen. You check the pockets of your bag, your pants, your jacket, but they aren’t there. Your mind races, wondering where you could’ve left them when you remember dumping your bag out onto your desk. 
“Are you fucking kidding me,” you swear under your breath. It’s almost midnight on a Friday night, there’s no way in hell that your geriatric landlord is going to be around to let you into your apartment. You have to go back to work. 
You feel numb as your climb into the Uber you order and are shuttled back to work. Forgetting your keys further confirms for you what a mess you are. When you arrive at the office, you speak to the security guard in the lobby. After showing him your ID card and explaining your situation, and he lets you take the elevator up. You plan on getting out of there as quickly as possible, but that changes when you approach your desk and notice that a lamp in Kendall’s office is on. 
And then, you notice Kendall. 
He’s on the couch on the far side of his office, scrolling on his phone while he roughly rubs the back of his neck. Your task of retrieving your keys vanishes completely from your mind, and you approach his office door, knocking softly. His head snaps up at the sound, but his expression relaxes when he see’s it’s you. 
“Hey,” you say gently as you push the glass door open. “You’re back already.”
He rises from the couch. “Uh, yeah… benefits of a private jet.” He gives a half-hearted smile and gestures for you to come in. “I uh, yeah, I didn’t want to stay in that, fuckin’, political hell hole any longer than I needed to.” 
“Understandable,” you say as you close the glass door behind you. He’s standing near the window now, arms crossed, and you stand opposite him awkwardly, unsure if it would be weird to sit and make yourself comfortable. His eyes flash over to the couch.
“Sorry, I’m fuckin’ exhausted, can we sit please?”
Though all you want right now is to be in your own bed, the expensive couch in Kendall’s office is an acceptable placeholder, especially when staying here also means you get to be in his company. You nod and sit down, and he joins you, keeping a good amount of space between the two of you.
“So… how do you feel?” you ask after a moment, your head turning in his direction.
“Oh, um, yeah. Initially, I felt pretty good,” he says. His legs are spread apart and he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs as he clasps his hands together in the empty space. You notice his long fingers, the veins protruding across the back of his hands, the defined tendons stretched across the skin. You never paid much attention to his hands before, but now, all you can think about is how much you want to hold them, want them on you, want his fingers in you. Fuck, you really shouldn’t have watched that livestream. “You know, everyone was telling me it went well, but, uh… someone still needs to go down for it. I just… I have this shitty fucking feeling that it’s gonna be me.” 
There’s no trace of anxiety, or anger, or sadness in his tone. He sounds so removed from the situation, almost apathetic toward it. You’re desperate to find out if that’s for the reason you fear.
“Kendall, I have to ask,” you say slowly. “Did you… know? Anything about it?”
You don’t dare look at him after asking something like that, your eyes stay glued to your feet. He sighs, and you feel him sit up beside you. “I know it’s hard to believe but, no. I didn’t.” He pauses for a moment before he continues. “It’s… it’s kind of an unspoken rule that the nasty stuff shouldn’t reach my desk. The executives who report to me, they eat a lot of shit for me so that I don’t have to. Keeping upper level management out of it gives us plausible deniability… protects the company.” 
You nod. It’s a relief that he wasn’t the one covering up the horrors that happened on those cruises, and you can now assume that his apathy toward the entire thing is a coping method - detaching himself from the feeling that he’s going to take the blame for everything is probably the only thing keeping him together. 
He’s looking over at you now, and your concerned expression must be telling him a different story. “I know, just because I wasn’t fully aware of the details doesn’t make it okay. It’s fucking awful. But, I uh, I think I’ll be the one taking the fall for it anyways, so there’s my fucking karma.” He sighs again.
You shake your head slightly. That’s not at all the impression the hearing left you with. “I don’t know Kendall… I was watching and you… you did really well,” you offer. “I know I’m not a corporate strategist or anything, but from the perspective of an average citizen, you um…” you pause, wondering how to properly word this. “You seemed powerful.”
Kendall gives a small, slightly bitter laugh as he leans forward on the couch again. He hangs his head down and begins to roughly run his hands up and down his face. “Yeah, that’s uh, probably not the best impression to make when they want a top executive’s head on a fucking stick.” 
You instinctively turn your body toward him and reach your hand out. It lands on his shoulder and you feel him freeze under your touch, but he doesn’t move away. “No, but not powerful in the sense that people will want to overthrow you, powerful in a way that seemed… warranted. Like… you controlled your responses so masterfully, no one could watch how you handled that situation and think that your power was just given to you by default or achieved through brutality.” 
There’s no need to expand on this point - he knows you’re referring to Tom and his dad, and you wouldn’t dare to make any explicitly negative comments about either of them. You can see that the Roy family has a fucked up dynamic, but they also seem close. You need to focus not on what they did wrong, but on what he did right. “You presented yourself as someone who deserves their position, and Americans love it when people earn their privilege. I really can’t see you being a main target. You just… yeah, you came across really well,” you finish. 
You suddenly realize that as you’ve been speaking, your hand has migrated from his shoulder to his upper back, and you’ve started to rub small circles against the smooth fabric of his button up shirt. He sighs, his head still hanging low, and you feel his muscles relaxing slightly.
“Thanks,” he mumbles softly, and you aren’t sure if it’s in response to your complimentary words or your soothing touch, but it doesn’t really matter as long as you’re helping him feel a little better. You continue rubbing his back gently for a bit until he slowly sits up straight again. You take this as his way of saying you can stop, so your hand retreats to your lap. You immediately wish you had another reason to keep touching him.
He takes a deep breath. “It, uh…” he stammers before pausing for a second, like he’s figuring out how to properly word what he wants to say. He leans back against the couch. “It would have been nice to have had you there,” he says, eyes glazed over and directed at the floor. “Jess was great, of course, you just, you have a comforting presence…” He hesitates before he looks over at you. 
You hold his eye contact for a moment before your gaze drops to your lap. This conversation is heading in a risky direction - you should shut it down, say goodnight, and go home, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning into it further. The two of you can never be seen together outside of work, and right now, in his office with everyone else gone, is probably the only opportunity you’ll get to have another meaningful in-person conversation with Kendall. So, instead of being smart and leaving, you stay and say what you’re actually thinking.
“I uh, I’m actually kind of relieved that I wasn’t there,” you say lightly, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. 
In your periphery, you see Kendall nod. “I get that… it wasn’t the most enjoyable environment to be in.”
“No, it’s not that…” you waver. Fuck, are you really gonna say this? There’s no coming back if you do, but maybe that’s what you actually want. The tension between the two of you has been built up too much and it needs to break. “Just… watching you… you know, do your thing, it um,” you laugh awkwardly, and Kendall sits up beside you as he waits for you complete your thought. You keep your eyes in your lap. “… I’m not sure I would’ve been able to play it cool around you after that.” 
You keep your eyes down, but you can feel Kendall move closer to you, and when he speaks, you can hear a smile in his voice. “Oh yeah?” he says smugly. “You wanna elaborate?” 
You roll your eyes, still keeping them off his face. “Oh my god, I already said you were powerful,” you groan jokingly. “What else do you want from me Ken?” 
You’ve never shortened his name before. Jess always calls him Kendall, so using his more informal name would be suspicious. It slips out now though, but you don’t regret it. It just happened naturally, and you’re ashamed to admit it, but you love how it sounds coming out of your mouth. It feels a bit like how you would talk to him if he was your boyfriend. It’s nice to get to live in that world for a second. 
“I want a whole fuckin’ sentence,” he laughs, and he moves even closer to you. Your legs are barely an inch apart, you can practically feel the heat radiating off him. You finally look up at him. 
“It was hot, okay? You were hot, is that what you want to hear?” 
His lips are on yours before you can react, but you don’t need to. Your response is immediate, as if you knew it was coming, and you fall into him like it’s second nature. 
Kendall’s hands grip your face, his fingers knotting themselves into your hair. Your arms race to wrap around his neck, and you pull each other in. This is only the second time you’ve kissed, but it feels strangely easy, like it’s something the two of you have been doing the entire time you’ve known each other. 
His mouth moves furiously against yours, his tongue slipping past your lips, and you feel excitement begin to build in your core. You could lie to yourself and pretend that you didn’t ache for him when you were in an office surrounded by other people, but it’s impossible to do that now with with his hands exploring every inch of your body. 
Your arms loosen themselves from his around his neck and your hands slide their way down to the neckline of his dress shirt. It’s unbuttoned low enough for you to access the skin of his shoulders and upper back, and you sneak your hands underneath the fabric, desperate to feel his warmth. Your urgency to get under his clothing has him groaning against your mouth, and he pulls you onto his lap, his hands not hesitating in gripping your ass as he does. You straddle him, your core resting on his groin, and you can feel him hardening by the second. 
Your hands travel down his chest to the buttons of his shirt, which you begin to undo frantically, and you feel Kendall continue to grow beneath you. God, knowing that you might get to feel him inside you again… it sends a rush of heat coursing through your body that settles snuggly in your lower stomach. 
His hands still on your ass, he begins to guide your hips forward and back over his own, pulling your body down onto his so you can grind as much pressure against him as possible. The way your centre hits his just right is heaven. You break apart from his lips to moan into his neck, your hands still working away at the tiny buttons lining his shirt, his hands still guiding your hips. 
“Fuck,” he husks into your ear, “god, fuck I need you,” and he begins to move your hips faster. Your fingers undo the last button of his shirt and you spread it open, pushing it off his shoulders and revealing his chest. You’re both feeling that same sense of urgency now, and Kendall’s hands leave your hips to travel to the hem of your shirt. 
RING RING RING
The phone in his pocket sounds off, startling you out of your embrace.
“Jesus fuck, sorry,” he apologises as he pulls it out, and it looks like he’s about to silence the ringer when you both see the name on the screen - ‘Dad.’ 
He looks up at you. “Yeah, fuck, I should take this,” he says, and you immediately climb off him, returning to your spot on the other side of the couch. Kendall stands up, his shirt still open, and answers the phone. 
“Yeah, Dad,” he says, and you can hear Logan’s gruff tone on the other side of the call. Kendall listens for a bit, his back to you, just nodding. “Yeah, okay, I’ll uh, I’ll make my way there. Okay. Yeah, see you soon.” He hangs up and hesitates before turning back to you.
“… Everything alright?” you ask. His eyes are fixated on his phone screen and he’s typing furiously. 
“Um…” he says as he finishes writing his message. You hear the 'whoosh' of a text being sent before he locks his phone, stuffing it into his pants pocket. He then begins to button his shirt back up, and disappointment washes over you. “I… yeah, I don’t know. He’s organising a vacation for everyone… like my entire family, all the higher ups… pretty much anyone who could possibly take the fall for the Brightstar mess.” He shakes his head as he does up the last button. “Doubt it’s gonna be a fucking team building session or whatever.” 
He finally looks over at you, pausing for a moment as his gaze turns a little softer. “It, um, it was probably good that we got interrupted before we did something stupid, right?”
Oh.
You look down and nod. As much as your entire body wants to pick up where you left off, he’s right. What were you gonna do, be the assistant who fucks their boss on company property? What a fucking cliche. Add in the embarrassment of Kendall being the one to call it off, and you can now feel anxiety starting to build in your chest. What began as something you desperately wanted is quickly shifting into the most shameful moment of your life. You have to get the fuck out of here. 
You stand. “I should go,” you say. “Um… I hope the trip goes well, and I’ll, I’ll see you after.” You don’t wait for a response from him, you leave his office and quickly grab your keys from your desk. You don’t look back. 
The elevator doors slide open immediately for you, and you rush to enter, scrambling to press the button for the ground floor. You lean up against the wall as it starts its descent, exhaling a shaky sigh. 
Fuck. 
What now?
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oblooga · 7 months
Text
It's you and I
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Synopsis: (fem!reader) best friends to lovers with a hint of fake/misunderstood dating :)))
Characters: Kazuha, Al-Haitham
Author's note: SPOILERS FOR 3.4 STORY QUEST (Alhaitham's part!! though now Fontaine is released idk if anyone still hasn't done Sumeru but I'm putting this here just in case^^)
This is a gift for @kazumist for the @solarisfortuneia Summer Santa event!! This was supremely fun to write, I have no idea how to write Alhaitham though, so forgive me if he's a little OOC. I hope you like it :))))
P.S. lyrics is from "poster boy" by Lyn Lapid-- I was looping the song while writing this
Kaedehara Kazuha
The vision hunt decree is finally over, and with it ends the bloodshed and violence that has lingered on your doorstep for years. With a brand new day free of bitter purple lighting comes new beginnings, new futures, and new-old friends returning to their homeland. 
One such friend is Kaedehara Kazuha.
You’ve known each other since you were little— dressed in nappies, sharing childhoods, summers spent racing in fields of gold and exploring caves filled with shimmering blue flowers. He had to flee when the vision hunt decree bore down his back– you still remember sending him away on a night dark as the loneliest shadows, holding back your tears as you watch the solidarity boat sail away from the harbor. 
(away from you.)
But ages have past, regimes have changed, and he can finally return home. Your family has agreed to house him, on account of his precious abode being completely destroyed in the Vision Hunt Decree.
And…also due to a big misunderstanding, as you were about to find out. 
“Y/n, where’s that boyfriend of yours? Didn’t you say he’d be here by noon?” Your mother calls from the kitchen, bustling around as she prepares lunch. 
You spit out the tea you’d been sipping, “I—I’m sorry, what boyfriend?”
“You know? That white haired boy with the red streak that lived next door? Kazuha?”
“Mom,” you groan, “he’s not—“
“Did someone say my name?” A voice calls from the doorway, gentle as the breeze sweeping through golden fields, fondness and amusement settling in its tone like leaves falling in autumn. 
In the doorway of your home stands Kaedehara Kazuha, looking every bit the same as you’d last seen him, just a bit taller and a bit more weary of the world. But he brightens up and chuckles when you leap into his embrace and cling onto him like an overzealous Bake-Danuki. 
“I missed you!! It’s been boring without you, Inazuma has changed so much and everyone’s talking about how—“
“Hello to you too, Y/n, how have you been? It’s been quite a while hasn’t it,” he mumbles into your hair as you continue to yammer on animatedly about the things he's missed.
“Y/n,” your mom calls from the kitchen, exasperated, “why don’t you let the poor boy into the house before you talk his ear off? Lunch is almost ready, please can you help set the table?” 
“Of course,” Kazuha cuts in smoothly before you’ve even had a chance to reply, patting your head and letting you down gently before sauntering into the kitchen. 
"How can I help you, Ma'am?" He smiles at your mom, helping hold the oven door open as she shoves a giant seasoned chicken inside.
“Oh, you’re a man after my heart,” your mom titters, smiling good naturedly at him, “just as how you’ve captured Y/n’s heart, hmm?” She turns and winks at you, and Kazuha smiles. 
“Well, I’m not quite sure about that just yet,” he says, glancing at you and raking his eyes over your flushed and confused face. “But I most certainly would like for it to be true," he murmurs, as he sends you a shy but sure smile, raising his brows at your reddened cheeks. 
“Ka-Kazuha,” you start flusteredly, “wh— you’re– w–wh–"
"Ah, young love," your mom sighs dramatically, and shoos the both of you out of the kitchen. "Nevermind helping me out, the both of you are so besotted with each other it'll be hard to get any work down. Off you go!" 
And so Kazuha easily gets out of the kitchen work that you've been subjected to for the many years you've lived in this house. You can't even be surprised– there's just something about the boy that is so soothing, so silently charming, that draws one in as unnoticeably as the autumn wind that comes every September.
"Kazuha, should we talk about this? We're not… you're… what are you doing?" You ask him hesitantly, trailing behind as he leads you out of the house and into the gardens. 
"Well– it'd be rude to ruin your mom's fantasies, right?" He grins, turning to a stop in front of you. "She seems so happy to have me around that…I'd feel slightly guilty if we tell her we're just friends and ruin whatever extravagant wedding she'd hold in the future." 
"You–!" You blush immediately, mind wandering to satin gowns and lavish kimonos and Kazuha in draped in silks and– "--married???"
"I mean, it wouldn't be so bad would it," his voice quiets to a hush, something unreadable in his smile as he leans over you and gently removes a leaf from your hair. "Well, maybe not getting married just yet," he says, making a face, "but maybe-- you dating me. As besotted with each other as your mom thinks we are," he chuckles, and turns away before you can fully decipher the feelings on his face.
And it's not…it's not as if you haven't thought of it before. Young as you were when you first met, a large part of your life was spent with Kazuha. You didn't know when your relationship developed from neighbours to best friends, but you'd never trade for anything the long nights spent dashing through starlight-fields, swimming in the salty ocean and chasing each other through the winding streets of town. He'd grown from a chubby boy into a lean man, the carefree, easy smile on his face never failing to cause butterflies in your stomach, ones that you've dismissed to be teenage hormones, before you realized said hormones were specifically centered around him. They say distance makes the heart fonder, and perhaps it's true, for both of you, because he's come back and seemed to have changed his mind about you. Changed his heart about you. (centered his heart around you.)
And… perhaps you had too. 
"Alright," you say slowly, unable to resist grinning at the full-blown smile that breaks across his face like the sun rising after a cold, lonely night. "We can try…this, whatever this is, out. No more faking though, for real this time, except we don't tell my mom it was ever fake because I don't want to sit through another of her lectures."
"Deal," Kazuha laughs, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, something in his eyes sparkling with an intensity that promises of a bright future. "I promise I won't breathe a word of your deceit–" he gets a snack on the shoulder for that– "to your mom, if you let me eat your caramel pudding."
"Hey!" You exclaim, wrinkling your nose at him, "just because you're now my boyfriend does not mean you get dessert rights-- get back here this instant Kazuha--!"
And so, in the season of autumn, in spite of the things that wither and fall and fade away, a brilliant and steadfast relationship begins to bloom.
2. Alhaitham
“Date me.”
You push your head up from where you’ve been laying on the table, turning bleary eyes to an ash-haired scholar standing next to your desk. “Hmm—?” you yawn, your brain too foggy from sleep to process his words. 
“Date me,” Alhaitham, academic-rivals-turned-study-partners-turned (begrudging)-best-friend, repeats impatiently.
You finally process his words and frown, blinking the sleep out of your eyes to sit up properly and stare at him. “Are you— are you alright? Did you eat breakfast? Did you ingest something Kaveh oh Archons above Kaveh better not have—“ 
“The Akademiya has proposed a “Day of Love”,” he cuts in, ignoring your spew of genuine concern, “to celebrate the passion and affection shared between romantic lovers. And also as an excuse to take a day off from their work I suppose,” he tsks, “which in any case brings me back to the question I’ve had the misfortune to ask for the third time— will you go on a date with me?” He crosses his arms and stares more intensely at you.
“…Aren’t you the Acting Grand Sage? Can’t you just get them to cancel this "Day of Love"?” you question, and he turns surprisingly defensive and brushes you off immediately. “No can do. It’s central to the welfare of the people of Sumeru.” Your suspicion deepens. You're not sure how… celebrating love and passion can increase the happiness of people of a country that had just experienced a never ending time-loop– okay, maybe you can see the point. 
"I mean…sure I guess…?" You shrug and agree, seeing how Alhaitham doesn't seem to be willing to let this go so easily. 
Which leads to your Saturday being spent on a date with someone you'd once thought didn't even have the word love in their vocabulary. 
Sumeru City was decorated to the nines, pink fairy lights stringed across branches of lush greenery that sprawled across the city, couples everywhere sharing giggles and smiles and kisses. It is all horribly romantic and a part of your heart can't help but flutter in anticipation, for what– exactly, you're not sure, but there is definitely a sense of love in the air. 
Not that the man besides you seems to notice any of it. Al walks at his usual brisk pace, dragging you through stalls of street foods and tiny trinkets, offering his (entirely unasked for) professional opinion on every item you land your sight on. It feels less like a date and more like…a research trip, if you were being honest. You've learnt more about the symbols of love than you'd ever asked for, and you can feel the romantic bones in your body draining of calcium by the minute. 
Although that isn't to say you aren't enjoying yourself. Al follows patiently behind you when you wander off to coo at some shiny necklace (which he purchased behind your back and sneaked into your purse), does not laugh at you when you stuff your mouth full of shawarma warp (although you can see the curl on his lips that belies his seriousness), and only sighs when you make him climb to the very top of the city to watch the sunset with you.
"What a day," you sigh contentedly, turning a fond smile at him. "Did you enjoy the date, Al?" You tease, leaning forward to poke at his nose as his blank expression develops into a scowl. 
"I have procured a valuable amount of information and experience that will be quite useful to me in writing my… future endeavors," he replies, returning your poke with a pinch of your cheeks. 
"Aha!" You exclaim, eyes widening and pointing at him. "I knew there was more to this! No way the Acting Grand Sage would ask me out on a date with no ulterior motive. Be honest, will you? Did you assign yourself a research on the topic of love because your life lacks so much of it?" You tease, watching him cross his arms and avoid your gaze entirely.
He remains silent for far too long, and your attention returns back to the scenery in front of you. Clouds laze across a purple pink sky, the sun had long set and only left behind ghosts of its golden rays that haze over Sumeru like a shimmering fairy, dancing betweens people lounging on benches and sprawled out on grass, enjoying the final moments of a beautiful day.
"...It was my idea."
"Hm?" You turn back to face the scholar, who's still looking resolutely ahead. Belated realization hits you, and you give him a smile of fond exasperation. "I knew it, Al, it was for a paper wasn't it? You could've just asked me to help, instead of only now revealing your big, evil intention. You know, I wouldn't have minded–"
"But I would," he cuts in, finally turning to face you. Those teal green eyes stare intensely into yours, red irises blazing as bright as the sun that sank low over the horizon. 
"You would…?" You trail off in confusion.
"I would've minded," he continues, leaning close enough that you could smell the scent of tattered book and dried ink that clings to his sleeves, "if you thought I had a big, evil intention in mind. Because you see," he says, hints of amusement coloring his features as you flusteredly back away from his advances, "I absolutely could've canceled the "Day of Love"."
"I was the one who proposed the idea after all."
He smirks at you with self-satisfaction, that hint of arrogance and unbeatable intelligence showing through before he schools his features back into nonchalance. Not without a new-found assumed tilt to his lips, of course. 
"Wh–huh?" Your mind was whirring at extremely high speeds, brain unable process the implications his words offer. 
The pink skies hold no candle to the pink staining your cheeks– as the clouds gather speed and the golden rays depart you finally realize what his words mean. 
"So you– you basically forced this "Day of Love" onto Sumeru to ask me out??" You say incredulously, turning a look of equal disbelief and hysteria on him. 
"I wouldn't say forced– it really is central to the welfare of the people of Sumeru," he mutters, once again avoiding your eye, trying to affect complete nonchalance again. 
"Oh Al," you giggle, and lay your head on his shoulder. He tenses, but then you feel his body relax as he gingerly settles an arm on yours. 
"All you had to do was ask."
thanks for reading!
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