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theemporium · 8 months

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[8.3k] the five times you tried to deny it, and the one time you and quinn gave into the bond pulling you together. (smut included)

based off this. smut included but it's not explicit. i may write a more detailed smut one shot in this universe later.

The first time you shared a moment with Quinn Hughes, you truly thought you were out-of-your-mind insane.

You weren’t even five years old when you first met the Hughes family. Your family had just moved, you were new to town and you were just confused why your whole life had to be packed up in boxes (no matter how many times your parents explained it).

And somewhere between the tears of being unable to find your favourite teddy in the cardboard boxes and not giving in to your parents’ bribes that you now had your very own—and fairly big—room in the new house, you had met Luke Hughes.

It was indescribable the way the bond between you and the youngest Hughes boy just snapped, but it was the only way to explain it. One day you were moving to a scary, new place and the next you were attached to the hip with an awkward, little boy who you loved like family.

Where Luke went, you followed.

When you jumped, Luke was right behind you.

You were a package deal, never one without each other. And it had always been the case. You were best friends. You shared something that went deeper than friendship and blood. You were each other’s person, and there was no doubt about that in anybody’s mind.

Your family became Luke’s and, in turn, his became yours. Ellen was a strong, empowering figure in your life that felt like a second mother. Jim was kind and encouraging, guiding you through some of your lowest moments. Even Jack felt like an older brother, someone who teased you and taunted you but defended you if anybody else tried to do the same.

But with Quinn, there was nothing.

For years, you were just his annoying little brother’s annoying little friend. And when you grew up, he was so focused on hockey that your paths rarely crossed, even with the countless amount of time you spent under the Hughes’ roof. You reached high school, he was already off to college. And when you and Luke got into Michigan, Quinn was already settled in Vancouver and playing in the big leagues like he always dreamed of.

He was by no means an asshole or a dick to you, your relationship with the oldest Hughes brother was just…non-existent. He was just there in your life. He was Luke’s oldest brother than you sometimes saw around, and nothing more.

You didn’t think that would ever change over time, let alone in the span of one summer.

There was no question that you would join the Hughes family at their lakehouse in the summer the second you finished up with finals. You had decided to spend some time back home with your parents before you joined the boys at the lakehouse, just as the friends started to fly in and it felt like it would be the same as every other summer.

You were painfully wrong.

Despite only just arriving, you should have known better than thinking the Hughes brothers were capable of a lazy day. The second your bags were dropped in your designated room (just beside Luke’s at the end of the hallway), they had dragged you out onto the boat and demanded to make up for lost time.

You laughed until tears were streaming down your cheeks. You ate until you swore you’d explode if you had another bite. You drank until the beers started to make you feel a little buzzed and settled and content. You sat around the dinner table sharing jokes and stories and random thoughts until, one by one, everyone tapped in for the night.

But not you.

Despite the travelling and the tiring day you had, the exhaustion in your bones wasn’t enough to settle you. You felt restless. You felt wide awake. You didn’t have the heart to lie in your bed and aimlessly stare at the ceiling. So, with the knowledge that Luke was already out like a light with no hope of waking up until the sun rises, you found yourself sitting on one of the chairs outside by the fire pit, the dying embers your only company as you enjoyed the serene silence of the lakehouse.

At least, they were your only company until he followed you outside.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You turned your head to look away from the slowing fire and towards the lakehouse, where you found the eldest Hughes brother walking towards you. He had changed from the clothes he was wearing earlier, the shirt and shorts now replaced with sweatpants and a hoodie. Your lips twitched upwards when you noticed it was a Devils jersey he probably stole from his brothers, and one he probably wouldn’t dare to wear outside the privacy of the lakehouse.

You shook your head before nodding back towards the house. “What about you? Luke’s snores too much to deal with?”

Quinn breathed out a laugh. “We both got the short end of the stick sharing a wall with him.”

“You can say that again,” you murmured with a snort before you turned to face the fire pit again. “At least it’s peaceful out here.”

“And cold,” Quinn noted.

“I think that hoodie is keeping you warm enough,” you mused as he closed the distance to the firepit, now standing behind your seat. You almost jumped when you felt him place the blanket over your shoulders, not having even noticed he was holding it when he came out here.

“I meant for you,” Quinn stated simply before he took the spot next to you, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both sat there, staring at the dying fire. “You’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“Sorry, dad,” you joked, and maybe it was a trick of the light, but you could have sworn you saw his lips twitch upwards. “It’s fine, I was heading back inside anyways.”

His brows furrowed together as you moved to stand up. “You looked quite settled though.”

“Well yeah,” you started, your cheeks burning as you noticed him nodding for you to continue. “I don’t know, I just thought you wanted to sit out here.”

He blinked. “So you were gonna leave?”

“I’ve had my time. I’m not gonna get in the way of your…silent brooding,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders.

He tilted his head to the side before he spoke. “You don’t have to leave. We can…silently brood together.”

This time it was your brows that furrowed together.

“Unless you don’t want to stay out here with me…” Quinn trailed off, a little awkwardly.

“It’s not that, it’s just—” you started, pausing for a moment before you shrugged again. “We don’t really talk.”

Quinn frowned. “We talk.”

“Quinn, this is the longest conversation we’ve had in six years,” you pointed out to him. He opened his mouth like he was about to counter your statement, but after a few moments it seemed like he realised you were telling the truth.

“Okay, maybe that’s true, but…it doesn’t have to be anymore,” he said as he patted the spot next to him, the spot you were sitting in a few minutes ago. “I mean, you’re like family”

You hesitated for a short moment before you settled in the spot next to him. It took a few more seconds before you finally had the guts to lift the end of the blanket, offering it to him with a sheepish smile. It took every single part of you burning with hope that it was too dark to notice the way your cheeks burned a little as he happily accepted the blanket and wrapped it around himself too.

“Up until junior year in high school, I thought you hated me,” you confessed, blurting the words out before you had a chance to stop yourself.

“What? Really?” He questioned, somewhat incredulously before he frowned. “What changed?”

“I realised you were just like that with everyone,” you admitted. “You all have your roles. Jack is the hyper-active golden retriever brother. Luke is, like, a black cat. Kinda keeps to himself, but he’s clingy when he trusts you.”

Quinn hummed, his eyes focused on the side of your face. “And me?”

“The grumpy cat,” you said as you turned to look at him, your voice a little breathless as you continued. “You look like you hate everyone, but you probably love the hardest. I’ve seen it with Luke. You act like he annoys you but…you probably love him more than anyone else in the world.”

“Other than you,” he noted.

You grinned a little. “Oh please, we aren’t on the same level. I mean, you can try to compete but you’ll lose.”

Quinn snorted, and it took you by surprise. “Yeah, you and my brother have your weird…psychic thing. I don’t think anyone could compare.” He paused for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You know, he threatened me about you once.”

You let out a noise of disbelief. “What?”

“The bond between you,” Quinn laughed.

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “When?”

“It was when you broke your arm when you were like seven years old,” Quinn said. “You were bummed that whole summer.”

“It was meant to be the first year me and Luke could go tubing alone,” you murmured as the memories flashed through your mind. You hated every second a camera was pointed at you and the massive cast on your arm.

“I won this massive bag of sour patch kids at that carnival game and I knew they were your favourites,” he continued. “But Luke threw a tantrum. He cried to Dad that I was trying to steal his best friend, that I was bribing you. He said that if I gave you the bag, he would push me off the boat when Dad was going full speed.”

Your lips parted as you let out a surprised laugh. “Oh wow,” you murmured with a shake of your head. “That bastard robbed me out of a huge bag of sour patch kids.”

Quinn laughed, shaking his head. “That’s all you took from that story? Not the fact that he almost killed me?”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “You’re here now, aren’t you? But you know what’s not here? The bag of sour patch kids.”

“It was really good,” Quinn mused playfully as you lightly dug an elbow into his ribs. “Ouch. Kidding.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m really not,” he confessed before smiling softly. “I’ll get you another to make up for it.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s not the same.”

“What? You want me to win it again?” Quinn questioned, though you could hear the amusement in his voice.

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Scared you’ll fail?”

“Absolutely not,” Quinn announced before offering his hand. “Fine. Deal.”

“Deal,” you repeated as you shook his hand.

But neither one of you pulled away. You sat there, huddled under the tartan blanket he had taken from the linen closet on the second floor, staring as you held onto each other’s hand. You could have pulled away. You should have pulled away. But some part of you kind of liked the feeling of his large, warm hand engulfing yours.

“You sure I won’t steal you away from Luke?” Quinn murmured, his eyes watching your face closely.

You smiled softly. “Depends how big the bag is.”

And he laughed, finally pulling his hand away as he turned his attention back to the firepit, and you were left wondering what the fuck just happened between you and Quinn Hughes.

…

You shared many moments with Quinn Hughes after that night, but the second time it really hit you again, you had no doubt that whatever was happening between you both was definitely a mutual feeling.

It was one of the hottest days of the summer, so it only made sense to take the boat out on the lake. With a backpack full of snacks and suncream, along with a cooler packed to the brim with water and beer bottles, you were set to have a good day.

Despite the heat, you had been wearing one of Luke’s old UMICH shirts as an overdress as you sat on the boat, pressed against him as Quinn took charge of driving. For reasons that were beyond your own understanding, you hadn’t opened up to your best friend about the growing friendship between you and his brother. You didn’t know why. You knew it wasn’t really a big deal.

But some part of you wanted to keep the bond bubbling between you and Quinn just for yourself, a secret shared between you two.

“Twenty bucks says Trevor tries to do a backflip before Jack,” Luke murmured to you as you both watched the other two boys, already playfully shoving each other.

“An extra says his heels hit the back of his head when he does it,” you murmured back, your lips twitching when Luke let out a loud, sudden laugh that caught the attention of the other boys.

“Quinn, they are doing it again!” Jack called out.

Luke frowned. “Doing what?”

“Being you,” Jack retorted, causing the youngest Hughes to roll his eyes.

“Stop being jealous, Rowdy,” you teased, flashing him a mocking pout. “Just cause you and Trevor wish you had what we have.”

“What we have is better,” Trevor insisted.

You and Luke shared a look before you both replied, “sure, Jan.”

“God, that is weird,” Cole murmured, sitting on the other side of you and Luke with an oddly curious expression.

“Wait until you see them move in sync,” Alex grumbled, his nose scrunched up. “It’s creepy.”

“I can’t believe we are on a boat with a bunch of jealous bitches,” you mused to your best friend, who only snorted in response.

By the time the boat had been anchored and settled, it took less than three seconds before most of the boys were jumping into the lake. Luke had tried to drag you in with him, but you batted his hands away. You should’ve known better than to think he would give up.

You only had enough time to shriek when Luke lifted you in his arms, not thinking twice before he threw you off the edge before following. By the time you broke through the surface, he was already laughing his ass off with the majority of the other boys.

“Dick!” You laughed at him.

“You still love me!” He called back.

“Unfortunately.”

You made your way towards the boat, kicking your legs to get you away from Luke as quickly as you could. You reached for the small ladder, your hands gripping the metal as you tried to pull yourself back up onto the boat.

“Here, let me help.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Quinn’s hands were wrapped around your waist, practically hauling you back onto the boat with ease. Your cheeks burned as you stumbled into him, your hands on his bare chest as you found your footing.

“Sorry,” you flashed him a sheepish smile.

But he didn’t look that bothered. “No worries at all.”

You glanced down at Luke’s shirt you were still wearing when he had thrown you in. It was absolutely soaked, and now laid heavy against your skin as you gently picked at the hem.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. “I didn’t bring anything else.”

“I have a hoodie you can borrow,” Quinn muttered out, far too quickly and, for a moment, you wondered if the pink on his cheeks was a blush or sunburn. “If you want.”

“I—yeah,” you eventually stuttered out. “That would be great.”

It hasn’t even been purposeful. It just made sense to peel the wet shirt over your head, hoping to wring it out and let it dry in the sun while you swim around for another hour or so. You didn’t even think twice when you wiggled out of it. You didn’t think it was a big deal until you lifted your head and found Quinn staring at you, lips parted and hoodie held aimlessly in his hand as he gaped at you.

“You good?” You questioned as though your heart wasn’t racing in your chest at his eyes on you.

“Yeah, no,” Quinn cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Just…yeah.”

You raised your brows. “Never seen a girl in a bikini before, Hughes?”

“Never seen you in one,” he corrected, and something about his response caught you off guard. Maybe because you weren’t expecting him to admit it. “You’re gorgeous.”

You tilted your head to the side. “You sound surprised by that.”

“What?” His eyes widened slightly. “No! No, I didn’t mean like that—”

“STOP BEING A CHICKEN AND GET BACK IN HERE!”

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes narrowing down at your best friend. “I’m not a chicken!”

“Prove it then!” Luke called out.

You turned back around to look at Quinn who hadn’t torn his eyes away from you. He looked like he wanted to say something, maybe even finish what he started a few moments ago before he was interrupted. But in the end, he couldn’t find himself able to say a single word.

You didn’t turn to look back at him as you raced back into the water, your stomach churning. Maybe it was the curiosity of wanting to know what he was going to say. Maybe it was the surprise that Quinn of all people couldn’t get his words out. Maybe you were still trying to navigate the weird shift in dynamic between you.

Or maybe it was because Quinn Hughes called you gorgeous and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

But, for what it was worth, you still slid his hoodie over your head when you got out of the water. Even if the shirt was dried by that point.

And you could’ve sworn you saw him smile when you did.

…

The third time was undeniable. You felt something for Quinn Hughes, and it was reciprocated.

It was another sleepless night. Something in the air felt different, like it had shifted. And now you were left alone in the quietness of the lakehouse somewhere in the early hours of the morning.

The days had started to blur into each other, passing in a happy daze as you basked in a summer spent with some of your closest friends. Today had been no different with made-up tournaments of pool and darts, tanning by the lake and drinks shared that put a hefty dent in the supply from the fridge.

You were buzzed and happy by the time you made your way to the room, finding yourself in Luke’s room before the boy eventually dozed off somewhere between your rambles of who could actively fight a horse-sized duck and the latest season of your favourite show you had been convincing him to watch. You had slid out of his room, heading towards your own room to settle down for the night.

But that restless feeling returned.

Instead, your steps lead you down the stairs and into the kitchen. You had propped yourself on the island, a glass of water sat beside you and your eyes focused on the window above the sink. It was quiet. So quiet. And some part of you resented it, that you were the only one awake right now.

But just like last time, you were quickly disproven of your assumption.

Your head turned when you heard footsteps approaching and, for a second, you thought maybe it was Luke. But the steps didn’t sound heavy enough to be his, and there was nothing in this world that could wake that boy from his slumber.

You shouldn’t have been surprised to find Quinn standing in the doorway instead.

He was dressed like he had just crawled out of bed. With grey sweatpants that laid low on his hips and a white shirt that clung onto every crevice and curve of his torso, he stood in the kitchen doorway with bleary eyes and a small frown on his face.

“Why are you still awake?”

You shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m starting to think you have insomnia or something,” he murmured, running a hand through the messy curls on his head, but it did little to tame them. Your lips twitched at the sight. “Or maybe I’ve just never noticed how shitty your sleep schedule was before.”

“Kick a girl when she’s down,” you mused playfully as you watched him lean against the frame. “Why are you awake right now? You look like you’re seconds from falling asleep.”

Quinn hummed in agreement. “I’m a light sleeper.”

Your brows furrowed together. “So?”

“So, I heard you thumping down the stairs and into the kitchen,” Quinn said, the corners of his lips lifting when he heard the noise that left your lips.

“Thumping?” You repeated with a scoff.

“Thumping,” he nodded in confirmation before pushing himself off the frame, closing the distance between the kitchen entrance and the kitchen counter you were currently sitting on. “You’re very heavy-footed.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that the next time we skate together,” you grumbled, your eyes glued on the oldest Hughes as he sleepily shuffled towards you. Your legs parted almost instantly as he settled between them, his hands on either side of you as he looked up at you with a slight hazed look on his face.

“You’d never catch me,” he murmured softly.

“Is that a challenge?” You retorted.

Quinn shook his head as he breathed out his nose. “Do you have to turn everything into a competition?”

“It makes things more fun,” you told him, painfully aware of how close you were. It wasn’t like the boat, there was no one else in the kitchen. Just you, Quinn and the accompanying silence of the lakehouse. You wondered if you should have felt guilty for enjoying it so much.

“I can think of a million other things that are more fun,” he countered, his head tilting to the side as he lifted his head to look at you.

A beat passed before you replied, “want to show me some?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes instantly dropped to your lips. You felt something deep in your stomach twist in delight, in satisfaction even. His eyes lingered there for one, two, three seconds before his eyes met yours again. They were darker, a little more awake than they were minutes ago when he shuffled into the kitchen. They made your chest feel tight.

“I can’t,” he murmured, his voice a little breathless and strained. “You’re Luke’s best friend.”

“And you’re Luke’s brother,” you countered. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I shouldn’t,” he insisted.

You leaned forward a little, your nose brushing against his. “But do you want to?”

There was a pause. It was brief and barely lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime passed between you both. You sat on the counter, Quinn standing in front of you, and the deafening silence that surrounded you both. It didn’t feel like you were in the kitchen, let alone the lakehouse. You were in your own little bubble, weighing up the consequences of what was about to happen.

And in that little bubble, every single one of them seemed worth it.

A small noise of surprise left you as Quinn leaned forward, his hands moving to cup the back of your head as he pressed his lips against yours. You melted into his embrace embarrassingly quick, your hands resting on his chest as you found your lips moving against his. It was hesitant and a little off-pace, like both of you were trying to figure out what you were doing.

And then he pulled away, just enough to catch a glimpse of your face but it was short-lasting before your hands were fisting his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss.

The kisses became more confident, more sure. His hands dropped from the back of your head, gliding down your back and resting on your hips before he was pulling you towards the edge of the counter. You wrapped your legs around his torso, your arms following suit around his neck and, fuck, who knew kissing Quinn Hughes could be so addictive?

“Shit,” you breathed out, your head falling back as his lips trailed along your jaw and down the column of your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, tickling and teasing and your legs tightened around him. “Quinn.”

“Sound pretty when you say my name,” his words vibrated against your skin, his hands tightening their grip.

“That feels good,” you whined, your body arching into him as his teeth grazed along a sensitive spot on the base of your neck. Your heart was beating against your ribs, the coil in your stomach was tightening as his hands teased the hem of your shirt and the painful realisation that it had been far too long since a guy had touched you made you eager to keep him close.

“Yeah?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice. “I make you feel good, sweetheart?”

“Quinn,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment when he pulled away to look at you.

“Say it,” he said, his fingers squeezing your cheeks together when you tried to turn your head away.

“You make me feel good,” you whispered, a little breathless.

His chest moved with soft pants, his hooded eyes dropping down to your red, swollen lips. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head.

“Words, baby,” he murmured, his fingers squeezing your cheeks again as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I want you to be sure of what you’re doing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know I wanna fuck you, Quinn, I’m not some stupid little kid anymore.”

“I never once thought you were,” he said simply, and before you even got the chance to reply, his lips were pressed against your again.

You didn’t remember much about the journey to Quinn’s room. All you knew was that he was strong—really fucking strong—which shouldn’t have surprised you for a professional athlete. But when he had the strength and control to pick you up with ease and walk up to his room on nothing but muscle memory as he made you whine and squirm in his grasp, you had to find it more than a little impressive.

Your back bounced against the mattress as you pulled him down, eager to feel the weight of him on top of you. You weren’t exactly what you felt for the oldest Hughes brother. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know.

But in that moment you wanted him. You wanted him on top of you. You wanted him inside of you. You wanted him in a way you had never wanted Quinn Hughes in your life, and maybe if you weren’t so lost in your own desperation to feel his skin against yours, it would have freaked you out.

But right now, your focus was on him.

Your clothes laid abandoned in a pile on his bedroom floor, right beside his sweatpants and shirt. His hands were all over you, touching you and stroking you and holding you. His lips trailed over your bare skin, desperate to kiss every fucking inch like his life depended on it.

And when you felt his curls tickling your skin, his beard scratching against your inner thighs and his nose nudging against your sensitive clit, your need to feel him inside you was almost unbearable.

“Please,” you cried out, your fists clenching the navy bed sheets beneath you as you squirmed under his grasp. “Quinn, I need—”

“I know what you need, honey,” he murmured, his lips and chin still wet with your arousal as he trailed kisses up your stomach and between your tits before his lips claimed yours. “Gonna give you what you want.”

The noises you let out were muffled by his lips against yours, his tongue teasing along your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. Whispered pants and soft praises were shared between heavy kisses as Quinn ripped open the foil, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered how good you were doing before he finally bottomed out inside of you.

Your experience with men in bed wasn’t large or extensive, but no one had ever treated you the way Quinn Hughes did. He was generous and caring. He was attentive and passionate. He was bigger than anyone you had ever slept with before. And even in the quiet hours of the lakehouse and the slow roll of his hips, he had you pressing your face into the pillows to muffle the noises you were making.

And much to your surprise, he held you against his chest when it was all over, rather than letting you slide out of bed and awkwardly scramble to leave the room.

“Quinn,” you started, your head tucked under his chin as his fingers trailed along your bare back.

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

Quinn didn’t say anything for a few moments. “We’re just having fun,” he said eventually as his arms tightened around you. “Let’s just enjoy it, yeah? Don’t think about it too much.”

So, you didn’t. You just kept the million and one questions you had to yourself and enjoyed the feeling of falling asleep in the arms of Quinn Hughes.

…

The fourth time wasn’t even purposeful, it was more like chance—like fate.

The storm had taken you all by surprise. It was by no means a large storm, or particularly concerning. But it left the lake unassailable and most of the roads to the nearest town at risk of being flooded.

The weather warnings had been going off for the last twenty four hours. You could feel the storm approaching, you could feel it in the sticky, humid air that clung onto your skin like a second layer. The little sundress you had been wearing was doing little to combat the heat, especially with the additional fact that you were pretty sure the AC stopped working a few hours ago and the fans the boys had set up around the house were doing nothing but blowing hot air at you.

What wasn’t surprising was the lack of concern for the storm. It would pass in a few days, and none of the boys seemed particularly on edge at the fact the roads would be closed and they would essentially be trapped in the lakehouse for the next week or so.

Nobody but Quinn.

“I’m heading out to the store to stock up for the storm,” he announced as he entered the living room where the rest of the group had been sprawled over the couches, their attention focused on the tv screen displaying the video game they were currently playing. “Any of your assholes wanna help?”

Silence.

Quinn sighed loudly. “Should have seen that one coming.”

“I’ll join,” you said, not thinking twice as you stood up from your spot on the loveseat you were sharing with Luke.

The boy’s attention perked up the second you stood up, his brows furrowed together as he watched you saunter towards his brother. “You’re willingly going to the store with Quinn?”

You paused, your brows furrowed together. “Yeah?”

“It’s over an hour away,” Luke said as you continued to stare blankly at you. “He’s going to bore you to death! He doesn't talk!”

Quinn scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Geez, thanks.”

“I’ll survive,” you assured him, ruffling his hair as you walked past him and towards the front door. “Plus, I’ll talk enough for the both of us.”

You felt like your heart was in your throat as you slipped your shoes on, waiting to hear the sound of Luke following you to the door. You expected to see him running towards you and Quinn, a frown on his lips as he muttered about coming to help because he would feel bad otherwise.

You tried not to think about how badly you didn’t want him to do that.

“We are leaving now!”

“Bye!” Jack called out from the living room.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Not a chance!” Luke called out this time.

You could barely bite back your grin as you quickly rushed out the house, making your way to the passenger side of Quinn’s truck. He didn’t say a word as he settled into the driver’s seat, key in the ignition and engine roaring to life as he reversed out the driveway and started the hour commute to the nearest grocery store.

“Okay, spill.”

You turned your head to face the boy, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. “Spill what?”

“What twin telepathy, voodoo magic you pulled back there,” Quinn said with a small snort of laughter. “The dude has been attached to your hip since you both were five. There was no way he just chose to stay back.”

“Maybe he’s finally getting sick of me after all these years,” you teased.

“Yeah, and I heard pigs were flying too,” he deadpanned.

You grinned. “Is there a reason you want to get me alone, Mr Hughes?”

His lips twitched upwards as he cast you a look. “I think it’s the same reason you were begging me to not stop last night in the—”

“Shut up!” Your cheeks burned, though you couldn’t help but laugh a little when he did too.

The journey to the store went smoothly. Despite Quinn’s insistence that he didn’t speed, you reached the grocery store in the next town over less than forty minutes after you left. You each took a trolley before ransacking the aisles, filling both carts up to the brim until you had enough to supply you through the zombie apocalypse.

Quinn swiped his card and you packed the groceries into the back of the truck.

And then, the rain started.

“Shit,” Quinn murmured, a frown on his face as he ducked his head down to watch the rain heavily pour down. “They said it wasn’t gonna start up until tonight.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to get back fine?” You asked, listening to the rain patter against the roof of the truck. “Maybe it will ease up.”

Quinn raised his brows. “It’s the start of the storm. It’s only gonna get worse.”

“You scared of a little rain?” You teased, gently nudging your elbow against his.

“It’s just stupid,” Quinn said with a shrug. “It’s a nuisance.”

“It’s fun if you let it be,” you retorted.

Quinn turned to face you in his seat, a look of amusement on his face as he leaned against the console. “Sweetheart, I think you’ve been around Luke too long. The brain cells are starting diminish as we speak—”

“Fuck off,” you laughed with a shake of your head. “See, this is what I mean. You’re the grumpy cat.”

“And what about me is so grumpy cat right now?” Quinn questioned.

“You’re a rain buzzkiller,” you stated simply.

Quinn tried to fight the grin growing on his face. “And what would someone who’s not a rain buzzkiller be like?”

He waited for your reply. He waited for you to come back with some witty retort that would piss him off and thrill him all at once. He waited for you to say something that made him want to roll his eyes and kiss you all at once.

He waited, but instead he saw your hand reaching for the door handle and his eyes widened in realisation.

“Baby—”

But you were already jumping out of the car.

It was just instinctive for him to jump out and follow. He was soaked in seconds, the rain still heavy and unforgiving and it almost made it difficult to see you, despite only being a few feet in front of him. He opened his mouth, ready to yell at you for being so reckless and to get back into the car, only to stop short when he heard you laugh.

“Come on, Huggy!” You called out to the boy, your arms extended out to the side as you tilted your head back up to the rain. “Don’t be a buzzkill!”

“You’re insane!” He called back.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you laughed as you reached out for him. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging!”

“We are going to get sick!”

“Oh well!” You laughed, palm facing the sky as you grinned at him through the heavy rain.

Quinn stared at you, a noise of disbelief leaving his own mouth as he took your hand and let you tug him towards you. Your arms seamlessly wrapped around his neck, just as his hands fell to your waist. And as much as he tried, he couldn’t fight the smile that grew on his face as you both began to sway back and forth in the rain.

“Isn’t this fun?”

Quinn shook his head, not bothering to answer as he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. Your arms tightened around him, a small moan leaving your lips as he pressed your body against his own. You were both soaked to the bone, clothes clinging onto you but that was the least of your concerns.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you murmured against his lips.

“You take it as whatever you want, baby,” he murmured back before he leaned down for another kiss.

The upcoming storm and truck full of groceries were the last thing on your mind when you were kissing Quinn Hughes in the rain.

…

The fifth time hurt like a bitch.

There was no sugar-coating. There was no exaggerations. There were no molehills made into mountains.

It just fucking hurt and there was no way for you to get around that.

After the storm had gone and passed, the group were eager to get back out into the world they were cut off from for the week. It had been Trevor’s idea to have a night out in the next town over. To have an excuse to dress up and head to one of the bars, enjoy the vibe of live music and chatty bartenders and friendly locals.

And that was exactly what you all had done.

You dressed up. You booked the taxis to the bar. You did a round of shots. You made friends with strangers. You danced and laughed and sang along with the band playing on the small, makeshift stage. You ordered fruity cocktails that you missed during your stay at the lakehouse. You were having fun.

And then you saw it.

Logically, you knew you didn’t have any reason to really be pissed. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t his girlfriend. There had never really been a talk of exclusivity, but you thought that much had been obvious since you had spent most of your time at the lakehouse. There were no labels, no promises, no rules. You knew that. Of course you fucking knew that.

But it didn’t make the sight hurt any less.

Quinn was leaning against the bar, a wide smile painted on his face as he chatted away to some blonde girl who was all but saddled up next to his side. He was laughing and talking animatedly and just…it hurt.

It hurt because it reminded you that you were in no place to feel hurt. It hurt because you realised nobody else would understand the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It hurt because the summer had shown you a new side of Quinn Hughes, and now you had lost him before you had even really had him.

“Hey, you good?” Trevor questioned as he threw his arm over you, bringing you close to his side.

“Hm? Yeah, just…think I drank too much,” you said as you dismissively waved your hand. You tore your eyes away from where Quinn stood at the bar and smiled softly up at the blond. “I think I might head back. I’m not feeling it anymore.”

“You sure?” Trevor frowned. “We can get you some water or—”

“I think I just need my bed,” you smiled sheepishly. “It’s fine. I can go by myself.”

“Absolutely not,” Trevor scoffed before his head darted up, his eyes narrowing as he tried to glance around the bar for someone in particular. “Where the fuck is Baby Hughes?”

“Trevor—” You started, but the boy wasn’t having it.

“Huggy! Have you seen your little brother anywhere?” Trevor called out to the oldest Hughes, and you wanted the world to swallow you whole right there and then.

Quinn looked at you and then Trevor. His eyes glanced at the arm still comfortably wrapped around your shoulder, the way you were tucked into his side. For a moment, you thought he was jealous.

“No, why?” He asked, his face remaining mostly blank. “Is something wrong?”

“Lady Hughes wants to head back to the lakehouse,” Trevor informed him.

Your nose scrunched up. “Lady Hughes?”

“You’re a lady and basically a Hughes,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “It works.”

You snorted.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked, stepping away from the blonde at the bar as his eyes glanced over you.

“Peachy,” you replied with a strained smile that only made his concern grow. “Look, it’s fine. I’m gonna order an uber and head back to the house. I’ll be fine.”

It should have been fine. You messaged Luke that you were heading back early. You had ordered an uber and Trevor insisted that he would wait outside with you until it arrived. It should have been fine.

Except the boy had the bladder of a squirrel when he was drunk and was running back inside to go to the bathroom, promising he would be quick, and giving the oldest Hughes brother an opening to step outside the bar with you.

Alone.

“What’s really wrong? You hardly drank anything,” Quinn said, his arms crossed over his chest and his worry evident in his voice. And something about it just pissed you off more. Something about his concern for you just made the sight of the blonde under his arm sting a little more, like salt in the wound.

“I’m just not feeling it, okay?” Your response was snappy, and maybe if you weren’t two shots and a cocktail down, you would have felt bad.

“Woah,” Quinn scoffed and shook his head. “Sorry for caring.”

And then the word vomit really started. “Do you really care?”

The defenceman frowned. “What?”

“Do you really care, Quinn? Because it didn’t look like you cared about much inside there other than the blonde you have been chatting up all night,” you commented coldly.

Quinn stared at you in disbelief. “Is this what this is about? You’re going back to the house because you’re jealous I’m not paying attention to you all night?”

You scoffed. “Oh wow.”

“Am I wrong?” He snapped back at you.

“Yes! Deeply so,” you gritted through clenched teeth, and you hated the way your eyes watered with tears of frustration. You didn’t want to cry, and certainly not in front of him. “I just thought—”

“You thought what?” Quinn questioned, his hands now resting on his hips.

“I thought what we had was worth a little more,” you eventually spat out, with every ounce of self-control working to keep your voice from sounding too shaky. “That maybe you’d have a little more decency than to just flirt with some girl right in front of me.”

“We aren’t dating,” was his only response.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied bitterly as the car you ordered pulled up beside you. You reached for the handle, already hating yourself a little more when you felt a tear run down your cheek. “I just made the mistake of thinking you were a decent fucking human though.”

He called out your name but you didn’t give him a chance to respond as you slid into the backseat of the uber car, slamming the car door shut and letting the tears fall as the driver pulled away from the sidewalk where Quinn still stood.

…

The one time you two acknowledged the mess between you was the start of a new chapter in your life, the start of Quinn Hughes playing a predominant and recurring role for the first time ever.

It was the following day after the night at the bar. The boys had returned somewhere after three in the morning, after the bar had presumably closed and they had been kicked out. You heard them coming in, heard their drunken giggles and horribly loud hushed voices. But you didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay in bed and listen as they all scrambled off to their own rooms.

Your sleep had been shit. Your thoughts had been running wild. And by the time the first rays of light were starting to peek through your curtains, you dragged yourself out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen. You found the biggest mug you could find, filled it to the brim with coffee and made your way to the pier outside.

It had been quiet, serene even. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, painting the sky in different shades of orange, pink and blue. The birds were chirping, the wind was breezing in the early morning chill and it should have been perfect.

But it wasn’t.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that he followed you out to the pier. Quinn Hughes seemed to have a nab for knowing when you wanted to break the serenity and silence of a moment.

You didn’t say a word to him, you didn’t even turn to look at him as he settled in the spot next to you and stared at calm water in front of you. You stayed locked in the silence, letting the sounds of branches rustling and distant boat motors accompany the quietness between you.

It made you want to scream.

And then, he spoke.

“Nothing happened between me and the blonde.”

You didn’t say anything, but it seemed like Quinn wasn’t waiting to hear your response. Instead, he continued talking. He sounded frazzled, like the words were pouring out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them.

“It wasn’t—” he paused, shaking his head. “It couldn’t even be like that even if I wanted it to. You asked if I cared yesterday, but do you wanna know the truth?”

You remained silent.

“The truth is that ever since the night at the fire pit, you’ve been stuck in my head. You’ve been stuck in my head and no matter what I do, I can’t fucking seem to make it stop.” He let out a dry, humourless laugh. “You’re my baby brother’s best friend. I shouldn’t be fucking thinking about you like that.”

Quinn shook his head. “But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop watching you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I kissed you, and I knew I was fucked. Absolutely fucked because now I wanted the one thing I shouldn’t be allowed to have, so I fucking panicked and told you it was nothing because if I told you, then maybe I could trick myself too.”

You finally turned your head to look at the boy, the conflict and doubts clear in your eyes but Quinn seemed to have a knack at reading you better than most people.

“Baby, I couldn’t stop caring about you even if I tried,” he whispered, his voice cracking a little as he flashed you a sad smile. “We aren’t dating. We never were. But maybe it just scared me how much I…wouldn’t mind if we were, or we had, or—” He shook his head. “I was a dickhead yesterday and I’m sorry.”

“You were,” you said and something in his chest eased from just hearing your voice. “But I was a bit of a brat too. I should have—”

“We were both idiots,” Quinn murmured before laughing softly. “Like, really fucking dumb. But I know I care about you. And not just in a ‘we are sleeping together’ kind of way. I care about you more than that.”

You wanted to say you felt the same way. You wanted to tell him the way your stomach flipped whenever he touched you. You wanted to tell him the way your heart stuttered when he smiled at you. You wanted to tell him you were addicted to his touch and obsessed with his kisses.

But all that came out was, “what about Luke?”

Quinn’s brows furrowed together slightly in thought. “We don’t have to tell him. Not yet, at least.” He said, hesitating for a short moment before he extended his hand out to you, palm facing the sky. “How about we just try us for a little bit?”

Your lips twitched upwards. “And what is us?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” he assured you. “Call me whatever you want, baby. Your boyfriend, your boy toy, your sugar daddy—” He laughed when you playfully shoved him. “I mean it.”

“Boyfriend has a nice ring to it,” you admitted in a shy voice, your eyes on the water below your feet.

Quinn grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back as you finally turned to look at him. You glanced down at his hand before taking it, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing softly. “I want to try us.”

“Then we’ll try us,” he murmured before leaning forward to capture your lips against his.

And somewhere, deep down inside you, you knew it was wrong to keep it hidden from Luke. He was your best friend. He was your person. He was Quinn’s brother. He deserved to know.

But maybe you also deserved to keep a secret or two from Luke. Maybe he didn’t have to know every single detail about your life. Maybe you deserved to have some fun.

Maybe you deserved to give Quinn Hughes a standing chance, just you and him and whatever the fuck ‘us’ would lead to.

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

family

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

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

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

word count: 3.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this would certainly gross her out.

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

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

You chuckled. “Yes, Joel.”

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

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled, shaking your head.

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

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

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

That woman turned out to be you.

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

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

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

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

The two of you had become inseparable.

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

He wasn’t totally wrong about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“You like her a lot too, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A long, but comfortable silence fell over the table.

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

Joel cleared his throat. “Sarah?”

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

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

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

“You have Uncle Tommy.”

“He doesn’t count.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

Text

IT WILL COME BACK (E.M.)

"honey, don't feed me - i will come back."

summary: when eddie came back from the upside down, he was different. and you finally come to realize just how different the man you saved truly is one night, when push comes to shove.

pairings: kas!eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of BLOOD (in sexual manner), mentions of BITING (in sexual manner), allusions to possible coercion (consent is still explicitly stated - trust me), mentions of death and trauma, mentions of eddie's canon death, taking a lot of creative liberty with expansive vampire lore across all media, mentions of murderous dreams? (eddie dreamt about killing reader idk), oral (f receiving), smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY.

wc: 7.7k+

a/n: i told y'all i'd write a serious biting/blood kink fic one day - today is the day. very lazily edited so beware.

When Eddie came back from the Upside Down, he was different.

There were subtle changes at first. Small, minute details that were easy to ignore. Everyone could turn a blind eye to them — everyone figured they would fade once the boy healed. His healing was first priority, and whatever lingered after could be dealt with.

Get Eddie better. Then question all that lingers.

A simple plan. A genius plan. A torturous plan.

The two of you had been friends, if you could even call it that, prior to it all. Teasing in the hallways, working on school projects here and there when in shared classes, he was your favorite (and only) dealer when you craved something to make sleep come just a little bit easier. He had been familiar — an old ghost you'd grown comfortable with, long before you’d seen those large and wet eyes looking back up at you in the boathouse.

Long before he’d pieced together the puzzle pieces as to why you’d needed the weed to cancel out the nightmares. Long before he’d processed exactly what those nightmares entailed.

But then, you’d fought for him. You’d fought with him. And most importantly, you’d bled with him.

God, you had bled for him.

Something admirable had blossomed in that short time. Eddie’s entire life had fallen apart, thread by frayed thread, and that new planted emotion had been the only solid thing to emerge for him to absolutely cling to. You were more than a fellow classmate to pass by in the hallways. You were more than his favorite customer, always weaponizing fluttering lashes and puckered lips for a discount he’d have given you regardless.

You were a force to be reckoned with, and had ignited a hunger in him like no other.

That’s all he had thought it was when he’d awoken in his living room — not the distorted version but the real one — to you screaming for the others to help you as you’d sealed his wounds. That’s all he had thought it was when you’d come to visit him as wounds turned to scars, and stabbing pains turned to hungering pangs. So he had tried to bury it, listen to Harrington and Wheeler and Buckley when they told him to take time to readjust. He’d locked away that hunger and focused on his healing, just as everyone else had, and told himself it was just residual feelings.

Residual feelings had been bound to happen after seeing someone bloody their hands, with your own blood, for your survival.

And in his burial, he’d never considered a similar hunger igniting somewhere deep within you.

You visited far more often than you should have. Returning time and time again to change his bandages, taking on one too many shifts at the hospital during his unconscious spells and baring your teeth for anyone who got too close. The sweet blood on your hands hadn’t washed away in that first shower; you swore, if you looked closer, you could still see the stain of nearly losing him across your knuckles.

Physical wounds were easier to heal than the internal ones. It was easier to lather on antibiotic lotion than it was to sleep soundly at night. Both of you came to realize that quickly in the weeks that followed Eddie’s return from the dead.

His nights were plagued with bad dreams, with thirst and cravings he couldn’t quite name. He’d wake up, burning up from the inside out with a fever that never existed. Tearing skin. Puncture wounds. Blood spilling across floors and his lips alike. He could never tell if the shivers that traced his spine had been from the cruel visions that had become his nightly visitors or if it was due to his perpetual drop in temperature that had worried Nancy since the very first night home from the hospital, that had concerned the nurses who piled blankets atop him during his week long sleep of recovery.

Your nights were even less kind. Horrific memories were the demons that haunted you — remembering the way you had watched Eddie cut that sheet rope, remembering finding him bloodied on the ground, remembering the warmth of his blood seeping across your palms and how when your ear had turned just as heated with it as you pressed it to his chest. Only to hear nothing. Emptiness.

His heart had stopped for minutes. Plural.

It had been your steady rhythm, your desperate hands and your gasping breaths breathing into his lungs. You’d sunk your claws into him, caught them right between his ribs and had decided he couldn’t leave you.

Some nights, when you wake up screaming, you can still taste his blood on your lips. You sometimes still swore that when you’d checked for a pulse after that, you hadn’t heard anything. Still worried that Eddie Munson’s heart never really restarted and resumed beating.

The worst was when you’d stare through the faded grey of mornings plastering across your room’s walls, and could still remember that initial look in his blown out pupils, once honey brown swallowed in pure black as he’d taken his first breath on his own.

Hunger.

You’d felt it, too. Shame riddled you on the nights you’d come down from the nightmares and remember it; it was as though the Universe had snapped back into place the moment you’d watched his chest first rise. A need so ardent to remain at his side. A chain clicking into place, binding both yourself and Eddie to one another, unaware of just what price had been paid to keep the boy that had laid under you in this world. Unaware of the hunger you had struck the match too that would become both your downfalls.

And so it had been buried. Something alive, even with your doubts of Eddie’s liveliness, and choking on dirt while six feet under. You and Eddie, two sides of the same coin, had decided to not speak of it. He never told you how he had come to be able to pinpoint your heartbeat in every shared room he entered, throat burning as his gaze always settled on you, and you never told him of the matching aches that had shamefully sparked within your chest and between your hips for him.

A hunger to be near one another. A hunger to devour. Neither of you really understood the heaviness.

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?” Steve asks as he sits on the edge of the new bed in the new apartment in the new part of town the Munson men now occupy.

Government money could go a Hell of a long way. Especially after your home had been devastated by the aftermath of alternate dimensions and unheard of evil being defeated.

“Fine,” is the only response Eddie can muster.

In reality, every time anyone came near him now, he burned. His throat tightened till it was surely raw, he swore his teeth sharpened until a mere slip of his tongue against his canines could bring the taste of metallic blood to his mouth. His entire body would tense with every person that walked through his door.

Control. Whatever was happening to him, Eddie needed to exercise control.

“Just fine?” Steve continues on, not catching the drift as he puts down the bag of things he’d bought at Eddie’s request. Basic things — painkillers, packs of cigarettes, a 6-pack. Some habits die harder and can’t be controlled, “You look like shit, Munson.”

“Gee, thanks, Stevie.”

Everyone had assumed the dark shadows beneath Eddie’s eyes would fade. They assumed his cheeks would eventually fill back out. They assumed he could wash away the ashen shade his hair now flatly flowed in. It was as if the life had been drained from Eddie since that day, and they had all assumed it would eventually flow back into him.

It never did. Just as his new hunger lingered, so did the look of Death.

“Sorry, man,” Steve throws his hands up, shrugging a bit before he stands, “Just being honest. It’s the best policy.”

“Is it? Is it really?”

If honesty was the best policy, Eddie could have filled the room with it. He could admit about the nightmarish wants, needs, he’d been keeping at bay. He could admit the way his irritation had been growing this last week every time another body, another friend, walked through his doorway and it wasn’t you. You, who had begun to plague the night terrors. You, who Eddie was beginning to crave far more than he had before he’d stared the afterlife down the barrel of the gun.

Steve just looks at Hawkins’ newest zombie boy, sighing, “Look, I don’t know what’s got you pissed off-“

“The whole dying thing, for starters.”

“-or why you’ve insisted on being an asshole to all of us these last few weeks-“

“Again, I died.”

“-but you’ve got everyone but me scared to visit you. We’re all scared of you biting our heads off, dude,” Steve finally finishes with a scowl.

Everyone. It’s unspoken that you’re included in the generalization.

It occurs to Eddie that maybe, just maybe, he should be kinder if he ever wants the ache of yearning to see you again to fade. If that’s what he could call this ache.

By the time Steve has left, Eddie’s still thinking about his warning. About the way he had been unusually cruel since coming back to life, since waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. It made sense initially. But he wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed anymore — he was home, or as close to home as he could get, and he was technically safe.

The issue was that he’d accepted his safety. Everyone who had wanted Eddie Munson dead was now six feet under themselves. No, the bigger issue at hand was everyone else’s safety.

Your safety.

Once he’d realized you were the staring lead in his violent fantasies, he had stopped calling. Half of your absence last week had been his fault.

No one really bothered to look deeper into it. Steve didn’t press as to why Eddie’s fridge had remained empty, Nancy didn’t take second glances at the odd books on vampire tales that were now littering all the free real estate of Eddie’s room, and you hadn’t questioned the coldness of his tone whenever he spoke to you. The chill of his words had grown icier than his own palms, desperate to keep you at arm’s length until he figured out what had changed in him that day he came back to life.

He wanted you near. He wanted to rip your throat out. He wanted your blood to stain his mouth and neck just as his had stained your hands. That was an issue. That wasn’t normal.

Something had changed in Eddie Munson, and it had terrified him to his twisted core, and no one had cared enough to notice. Not yet.

–

It took you two weeks to be fed up with the radio silence.

Eddie stopped calling even Jonathan (the only one of the group he found he didn’t want to devour whole, as it turns out). When everyone had mentioned it in passing, it had only reminded you of the sleepless nights you’d be enduring. That small voice in the back of your head that had called out to you in the dead of night, the whisper of come to me that echoed all the way across a broken town.

Come to me.

Sometimes you swore it was Eddie’s voice calling to you. Sometimes, you nearly left your own new apartment in the dead of night, and let your legs guide you to the undead boy you had single-handedly revived.

Tonight was one of those nights. Your stomach was twisting, your head was pounding, your bones were aching. Every single inch of you hurt as it listened to that soft calling, and at some point, you gave in.

Hunger. You were insatiable with the need and drive to be at Eddie’s side. Warnings from the others be damned.

One thing leads to another. You find your coat, you find your car keys. You find yourself driving the deserted streets of Hawkins in the middle of the night. You find yourself on the Munson doorstep, knuckles shaking and aching with the knowledge that just beyond the wood of the door, he was there. You don’t have to see him to feel him; his thrumming presence, his anchoring existence.

Come to me.

The door swings open before you get the chance to knock. This string tying your two souls together is not a one-way channel, it seems.

“Why are you here?”

You watch him wince as the harsh words leave him. Immediately, you know that the abrasiveness is on instinct. Just as something claws inside of you to be near him, there is something within him howling to keep you far from him.

The polarity of two magnets. Some nights, surely, his twists in a way that would draw him to you, just as yours will twirl with the sensibility that whatever has changed within him should give you cause to run as far away from him as possible.

But tonight, your magnetism only yanks you closer to him. He doesn’t even invite you in, and yet, you find yourself stepping over the threshold of the new apartment.

“You’ve gone quiet,” you whisper as an answer. It’s not what he wants to hear, grimace deepening, nearly a scowl now, “I just… It’s been weeks. I…”

I missed you. I needed you. I heard you in my dreams and I’ve never had much self-control when it comes to you.

Magnets are a useless metaphor for whatever is happening here between you. A better comparison would be the cliche image of a moth to a flame; he’s dangerous, threatening to burn you alive, and you still find your heart fluttering after him hopelessly. You’re going to get scorned, and you’ll still never learn. You’ve fallen victim to a tired narrative that you’d rolled your eyes at in a plethora of books. How many times had you sworn that wouldn’t be you? Just how many eye rolls had you exhausted at the mere idea?

And now, here you were, on his doorstep. Grasping for something you’re not sure either of you can give.

“I’ve been dealing with a few things,” he mutters as he shuts the door behind you, shielding you both from the chill of the night. The room is still cold, especially in his radius, “Didn’t think it would make much of a difference.”

“You didn’t think I’d care if you just stopped calling?” you turn slowly, taking in the state of the living room. Wayne was clearly gone for the night, work most probably, and several books littered the coffee table. Eddie had been the one reading them, lounging on the couch.

The last time you had seen him, he couldn’t even sit up in bed on his own.

He’s keeping an unusual distance, nearly leaning back out of your vicinity, “Figured you were busy.”

He’s never been this short with you. His words are choked up, his body tense with pain. You assume it’s just his injuries bothering him.

You couldn’t be more wrong, but you’re completely unaware.

“I brought you back from the dead, and you think I’d still be too busy for you,” you laugh humorlessly, fully in disbelief at his pitiful excuse, “Eddie, we could find out Vecna didn’t really die, those damn cracks in the Earth could open right back up, and the first person I’d care about finding is you.”

The animal inside that had been yearning for his presence is satiated for now, but you can still feel it lurking in the darkest depths of your mind, ready to call out a new request at any moment. It’s the distraction that has you spilling pathetic truths.

The only response he offers you is a dead stare. With eyes wide, pupils nearly swallowed up by darkness.

“You could have called,” your voice cracks, body shaking with the effort not to take a step closer to him, “You could have just let me know you were still alive.”

“I-”

He cuts himself off when he’s the one taking a step closer. His entire face twists with pain, and you give up keeping your distance. In an instant, you’re at his side as your hand reaches out for his bicep.

He flinches away. Something inside of you burns.

Your hand is hovering in the air between the two of you, and in this lighting, you swear the skin is still stained with the blood that won’t wash away.

“Please don’t,” he begs, “I’m fine, but… please.”

You don’t know what he’s begging for. Distance, for you to pull your hand away, time – you don’t know what he needs.

“We should sit down,” you insist, finally pulling your hand as far from him as possible but making no move to put the space back between you two, “Has anyone helped you with your bandages? If your wounds got infected-”

“They didn’t.”

“If you didn’t change the bandages, they definitely could have-”

“They’re not infected,” he grits out, but he’s still walking over to the couch regardless, “They’re healed.”

Healed.

Mere weeks ago, those wounds were still deep enough to keep you from ever achieving a full night's rest. Deep enough to worry you to the core that you would wake up to them finally having consumed him. Deep enough that you all assumed it would take him months, not weeks, to recover.

“What do you mean they healed, Eddie?” you whisper, almost reaching out for him as he sits down.

Your hand twitches, but the echoes of his begging and his flinching keep it at bay as you stand before him.

“I mean, they healed,” he huffs, nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths. He’s looking anywhere in the room but at you, his gaze subverting you with purpose. As though the mere sight of you, the mere proximity, is painful to him, “Don’t know how, don’t know why – they just did.”

“So why are you still in pain?”

A sharper intake of breath. A hush of silence falling over the apartment. Even the buzz of the building’s AC unit has faded from all your senses. It’s just you and him, and a heavy quietude like no other.

Until he finally breaks the surface tension, breathing out, “You.”

Your heart drops. That tug inside your chest, the one taut as you look at him right within your reach yet still so far away, almost snaps.

“Me?”

He nods with a harsh swallow, “I- Look, I can’t explain it, but when I came back, I came back…”

“Different?”

He doesn’t have to explain it. You’d felt it.

The moment his eyes had opened, just moments after what should have been blissful victory. The taste of his blood heavy on your tongue, a terrible sweetness that had choked you rather than its initial metallic twang. The whispers of his voice in your mind.

He wasn’t the only one changed from whatever had occurred that night.

“Different is a good way of putting it,” he nods, looking up with apologetic eyes, “It’s not you. It’s cliche as fuck, but it really isn’t – it’s me. I died, and you brought me back, but I don’t think either of us knew the cost.”

The yearning. The nightmares. The unmanageable needs. The hunger.

“What was the cost?”

He almost doesn’t hear you. Your voice is a whisper, tone weighed down with the curse of knowing.

You might not have known the cost when you were pressing your palms into his chest through your wretched sobs, functioning as his heart and lungs for nearly a minute, but you think you might have a clue now.

All that had been tethering you to him since he’d come back to you, all those webs and strings that had formed their knots around both of your necks. He’d changed, and you had plummeted right into the chasm of the unknown with him.

His blood on your tongue, sweet as honey.

Blood shouldn’t be sweet.

He grabs one of the books off the coffee table, motioning for you to join him on the couch. Under the weight of your realization, you’re nearly under a trance. All he has to do is wave a hand, and you follow.

You’re at his beck and call. Just like you had been when he’d been calling out for you, yearning for you.

“Don’t make me say it,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the book into your lap the moment you’ve sat down. This time, you’re mindful to keep your distance.

This time, you’re painfully aware of the compromising situation the two of you have found yourselves in.

The book is older, leather-bound and worn from years of readers’ careless hands breaking the spine. The corners of every page are weather, close to disintegration. The entire thing could easily pass for a Halloween decoration.

It’s not. You flip open to the title page, and if Eddie didn’t appear so deathly serious at your side, you would have scoffed.

“Dracula?” you question carefully, running a finger over the delicate script of the title, “Eddie, I don’t-”

“I’m not insane,” he interrupts you, “I’m not fucking- I swear to you. I’ve gathered up every goddamn book about it that I can. Fictional, nonfictional. Just- there’s obviously a Hell of a lot more fictional material to work with, okay?”

A vampire. He’s convinced he’s a vampire.

And even worse – you’re convinced right along with him.

You turn your head to look at him, trying to find the right words, but all you find is Eddie burying his face in his hands, head nearly hung between his knees.

“I can’t eat normal food anymore,” his voice is muffled, “That was the first sign. Couldn’t stomach it, made me throw up for hours when I tried. And then all those nurses kept talking about how I was healing faster than they expected. Most of my smaller cuts – those healed in under a day,” he finally lifts his face just enough to turn and peer at you through all the stray curls that fall into his vision, “My vision and hearing were the next things I noticed. Remember how I had a nonstop migraine those first few days?”

He doesn’t need to convince you, but the argument is compelling, “It… wasn’t a migraine.”

He shakes his head. “Not even close. Just turns out that it’s a killer to get used to fucking superhuman night vision and impeccable hearing. I still can’t handle being out in the sun very long. I don’t… burn up or any of that shit, but… it just…” he trails off, shoulders falling in defeat before he throws himself back against the couch. When he continues, his tone is flat, devoid of all emotion, “I keep having these dreams about you, too. Bad dreams. Terrible dreams.”

You shut the book, toss it back onto the coffee table, and decide to Hell with keeping your distance.

You need it. Even if he’ll only allow you to get an inch closer to him, you need it.

“What do you mean by terrible dreams?” you ask, breath catching at the end of your question as you scoot yourself closer on the couch. Even with such a small movement, Eddie is quick to notice, eyes flicking to you quickly with a sense of urgency flashing behind them.

“Don’t,” he lowly warns.

“What’s happening in your dreams, Eddie?”

Another inch closer. His jaw clenches.

“Sweetheart, do not-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Your knee bumps into his thigh, and you watch him go rigid. Hands turning to fists, eyes pinching shut and face twisting with the same pain he’d worn the ghost of when you first arrived at the apartment.

The moment you touch him, you see it. The flashes of his nightmares, all those terrible actions haunting him every time he closed his eyes. You. Your blood. That hunger.

Like a blackhole in the center of your stomach, it burns viciously as it sucks the air out of your lungs. It threatens to cave your entire being into itself until there’s nothing left. Not even a crumb of who you once were.

But it's not yours. It’s Eddie’s.

That pain on his face is only exhibiting a fraction of what he was feeling. That dizzying craving that he’d miraculously been keeping at bay since you’d simply entered the building, not even yet knocking on his door. You hadn’t even been in the same room as him yet, and he had still known. Had smelt you, had felt you.

He could almost taste you.

“You…” you have to shift your knee away from him, break the touch, break the connection, “You haven’t fed since you woke up.”

“I haven’t fed, period.”

With the connection severed, he somehow finds it in himself to open his eyes once more. You don’t know how – if he’s feeling what you’d just been privy to, you’d be an incoherent mess on the floor. Something feral and unrecognizable.

Although, maybe he was nearly there. You couldn’t see his pupils. That same look when he’d first woken up – a man swallowed whole by hunger.

“You’ve been dreaming about ripping my throat out,” you say it as a matter of fact, not a lick of judgment in your tone.

It wasn’t you scrutinizing him. It was what you had seen, with one simple touch.

His voice is hoarse as he echoes in confirmation, “I’ve been dreaming about ripping your throat out.”

You should probably be afraid. All your survival instincts should be kicking in, your feet should be carrying you towards the door, you shouldn’t be leaning in closer.

“You know what really sealed the whole vampire ordeal though, sweetheart?” he breathes out, your eyes fluttering shut at the lull in his hushed tone.

Just as you’ve been leaning in, he’s been slowly turning his body to face yours, hands twitching at his sides. He’s no longer retreating from your presence, sucking down breaths in harsh gulps the closer you grow to him.

He’s losing control. You’re losing control.

That thread, vibrant red as it draws you near him, is clear as day now. A noose around your neck. A road to your damnation.

A road to your hunger.

You hardly hum in response, completely entranced now. Had he ever been capable of this before? Of holding you beneath such an inescapable spell with such ease?

Probably.

He doesn’t use his words to answer. Instead, he finally takes the plunge.

His head ducks down towards your neck just as his hands lose the war, grabbing onto your hips, dragging you dangerously close to him until his lips hovered just over your pulse point. And by some strength that you certainly don’t possess, he stops there. Letting his lips barely brush against your soft skin, breath coming out in pants for you to feel, to relish, to get lost in. And just as soon as those pants, those waves, become a comfortable pattern to succumb to, you feel them.

His fangs.

Grazing over your sensitive skin. Sharp tips nipping at a surface they could so easily break, pierce with one wrong move. Your pulse is thrumming beneath the surface, heart racing painfully as Eddie’s grip turns bruising.

Come to me.

“Please.”

You’re the one begging now. It goes against every rule you’ve ever seen applied in fiction. If a vampire is baring their fangs against your neck, you should be reaching for a stake. The only noise escaping you should be a scream for help, not the pathetic whimpers beginning to slip out.

“I can’t,” you feel his gasp more than you can hear it. Your blood is too loud, roaring in your ears as you feel the fangs slip with his words, “I can’t.”

That hunger you felt, the one that had called out to you through the night and led you right to his doorstep, is unavoidable now. You need him closer, you need him to do this. For the first time since you had saved his life and tasted his blood after the Upside Down, everything seems to click into place. All he needs to do is let them sink into you, take that final leap of faith and reprieve that ache you’ve battled for weeks now.

You’re so close. So close.

“Eddie, please,” you’re nearly sobbing, hands gripping onto his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer.

But you’re no match for his strength. You don’t know if it’s a new addition with his vampire business or if there was always more to him than met the eye, but he easily stays stoic against your attempts, not moving a centimeter. Still hovering, still just barely making contact with your heartbeat.

“I-” his head drops slightly, tip of his nose beginning to trail down the side of your neck, mouth no longer dangerously close, “You saw my dreams-”

“I trust you.”

You do. You trust him even more now than you had when you first stumbled upon him in the boathouse. More than when he had pleaded his case, promised he hadn’t been the one to kill Chrissy Cunningham. The trust comes easier than breathing as his nose nuzzles into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, fangs now brushing your collar bone, “You really, really shouldn’t.”

He doesn’t stop you when you move to straddle his hips. Your weight settles onto his lap, and he only fights to keep his face burrowed there in your shoulder, arms now moving around your waist to hold you tightly to him.

His self-control is impeccable. You’d admire him and all this impressiveness another time, when something inside of you wasn’t lamenting his resistance.

All at once, it occurs to you how to give him the final push.

“Did I ever tell you how sweet your blood was on my tongue after I brought you back?” you start, sighing, rolling your shoulders to expose more of your neck, grip on his shoulders tightening, “All that blood, all those tears, and I still can’t forget how welcome that warmth of you was in my mouth. How I needed more. How I pictured it every night, after every nightmare-”

He breaks.

One moment, his nose is buried in your skin. And the next, his fangs are.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but relief would have been low on your list. You gasp out in initial shock, but as you feel his teeth dig in, it’s as though something has snapped. The ache has been satiated, preening as you feel the warmth of your blood contrast the chill of his chin pressing into you.

If there’s any pain, you don’t feel it through the haze of pleasure.

Ice shards spread through your bloodstream, but the point in which Eddie’s mouth is connected to you radiates heat. He’s pulling you into him, letting go completely and relinquishing all that control as he nearly purrs against your skin in satisfaction. That connection is back, two minds linking with a heavy click, and you can feel all his pleasure mingling with your own. Satiation, desperation, adoration – the plethora of emotions all swarm your head and block out any better judgment.

You’d let him drain you dry, if that’s what he needed. If nothing more than to hear those soft moans as his fangs sink even deeper.

He pulls back too soon, though, suddenly and unexpectedly. Just as quickly as he had given in to both your desires, he’s putting an end to them. He hadn’t taken much blood, but your head is swimming from the loss all the same. Your grip has gone slack on him, hands slipping down to just barely cradle his biceps while his own touch stays unyielding around you.

You can hear his thoughts. Or rather, maybe more aptly put, you can feel them.

He wants to devour you. Wholly, ruthlessly.

He looks up at you with pupils still blown wide, chest heaving and a small scarlet drip trailing from the corner of his mouth. For the first time since he’d come back to you, he looks alive. Hair fluffed in a halo around his head, skin tinted with a healthy glow and unmistakable blush, bags beneath his eyes faded for the time being.

You were never quite sure if Eddie Munson’s heart had ever restarted, knew for certain that it hadn’t now, but you swear you can feel its pulse finally thrumming for you.

I need more.

It’s his voice in your head, echoing in the empty space as you look down with wild eyes to match his.

But it’s your voice in his head when you respond instantaneously.

Then take it.

Something unspoken lies there in the need. He doesn’t move back to your neck, doesn’t bite down and drink his fill of your blood. He only stares for a few seconds, watching the welt of blood that pools from each puncture wound of his making. His eyes follow when it runs down your skin, as though he might lose it should he so much as blink. Down, down, down. Following the trail that his nose had followed minutes before, across your collarbone until it stains the neck of your loose shirt.

My pleasure.

His hold proves helpful when he quickly changes positions, roughly throwing you down onto the couch before he’s settled between your thighs, crawling his way up your body. He pays close attention to the maroon trail on your throat, his tongue cleaning up after his mess, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

Sweet as honey.

His tongue only pauses for a moment over the bite wound, pressing into it, making your back arch as you press yourself fully into him. Your head digs painfully into the cushion behind you as you expose your neck, wanting and begging and pleading all without words.

“I think we should take this off,” he plucks at the hem of your shirt, tugging hard before he begins to carefully lift. His freezing knuckles brush against your burning skin, eliciting a whimper from you, “Before we make an ever bigger mess. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

A sultry tone you’ve never heard from him before. Honeyed words, familiar to how he once spoke, but entirely new in the way they curl around you. There’s a confidence there, a baiting that he’s luring you with.

“Yes, please.”

He could ask anything of you in this moment, and you’d be eager to comply. Fueled by your desire for him before the events of spring break, worsened by his new condition. A bright, red, vibrating thread. You couldn’t severe the tie if you wanted to.

And you most certainly did not want to.

Your shirt is removed, his hands careful despite the way they shake. His words may be smooth, but each move is jagged, the only sign you had that he’s still exercising control.

“And these?” he whispers, lowering his lips to your sternum as he toys with the band of your pants. His fangs scratch down the center of your stomach as it quivers with each breath, careful to not break skin as they make their presence known. You nearly lose all capability to speak until he says, “Use your words, baby. Tell me I can take them off.”

Yes.

His eyes flare, looking up to you, “Use your words. Not your mind. I want to hear how badly you need me – I want everyone to hear you beg.”

The words strike straight to your core. Lashing out in your lower stomach, burning deliciously.

It’s more than putting on a show. He needs to know you want this.

“Take them off,” you gasp out, hands wandering to tangle in his hair, “Take- Take it all off. I’m yours, Eddie.”

Shaking hands perform a dance you had long since fantasized about. In easier days, when Eddie had been uninvolved in the episode down, heart still beating along as he would bounce his knees in front of you and his fingers would idly fiddle with his pencils and pens. A yearning, a wanting, you’d always held for the boy.

He used to be an escape from it all. A pretty thing to daydream about when you weren’t worried about monsters. And now – he was one of the monsters.

Your monster. Tied to you inexplicably, brought back by your hands and your stubborn efforts.

His lips and fangs are one in the same, trailing along your body as he finds a home at the apex between your thighs. Even in undeath, he’s the most beautiful thing your mind could conjure.

You’d forgotten how he was privy to your every thought until he reacts.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmurs, smirking salaciously as he mouths innocently at that sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tongue darting out to lick a cool stride before he breathes out against it. It has you writhing beneath his hold, “You’ve wanted this all this time, sweetheart? Wanted to see me, between these pretty thighs, making you scream my name?” His mouth falls open a bit wider, the sharp canines pressing but not sinking against where he had just licked. He holds there, eyes locking with yours, until he pulls back to cockily say, “Could’ve just said something, y’know. Didn’t have to bring me back from the dead to have me devoted to you.”

Finally, finally, he lets his fangs sink back into you. The soft meat of your thigh is more pliant in his mouth, and he doesn’t linger as long as he had on your neck. One nick, just enough to start the blood flow, before he’s pulling back and licking hungrily at the scarlet liquid. Less for feeding, more for marking.

Marking you as his, just as you have with him. His methods just appeared a bit more physical.

He’s quick to avert his focus on your cunt, no warning before the tongue still covered in your blood is taking long strides over your entrance and clit. Devotion. That was the only word to describe the way he was unraveling you, alternating between indulging in your sweet cunt and returning back to that bite, going as far to even sink his teeth in a second time to take a proper drink of you. His chin and lips grow slick with it all – with the blood, with your wetness, with his own saliva. A starved man with a feast before him.

The way he’s rutting his hips into the couch as he slings your legs over his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed.

It’s a mess. A wonderful, satisfying, enchanting mess.

Beautiful. So beautiful, all mine.

His voice has you teetering on an edge of new carnal pleasure. Completely consumed by him, your hands tugging viciously at his curls. His face is round once more, eyes and cheeks no longer sunken in, vitality being breathed into him with each taste of your blood.

Let me touch you. Please.

You beg over that connection, trying your best to not buck your hips mercilessly against his tongue. You feel his wicked grin.

“You’re already touching me, sweetheart,” he reaches up, untangling your fingers from his hair for emphasis before he’s pinning them to your sides, “And what did I say about using our words? Hm?”

“Need more,” your voice is wrecked as you tilt your head back, wrists straining against his hold, “I need more.”

You’re fully light-headed now, the blood loss finally catching up. Maybe you were about to let him drain you dry.

And what a beautiful way to die. At the hand, at the fangs, of the one you had fought so urgently to bring back to you.

One last timid lick to the wound on your thigh, and he’s crawling his way back up to you. The mess doesn't phase you as he kisses you hungrily – the blood remains sweet rather than metallic, the remnants of your juices still on his tongue – and you meet him with an unbridled fervent. Nipping at his lips with your own dull canines as if you were the one looking for a bite of vivacity.

You don’t know when he lets go of your wrists, or when your hands find their way up beneath his shirt. The specifics don’t matter once he’s naked before you, clothes discarded messily to the ground with your own. The only thing that matters is the weight of him, the reminder that he was still here as his hips roll into yours and the head of him catches on your entrance.

He had been dead. For minutes. And you had brought him back to you.

The process had taken longer than the mere CPR administered, had taken weeks of whatever waiting game you two had tortured yourselves with, but you had him now. He was yours. You were his. There wasn’t a deity, a monster, an omniscient being in this world that could take that away from you. Not even Death herself.

“Last chance, baby,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up so that not a single inch of his skin pressed to yours. You nearly cried out, missing that connection, missing him. Your hunger, the hunger for him entirely, rattles your bones once more, “Say the word, and I’ll-”

“No,” your hands pause their exploration of skin jagged with scars. Reminders of those few dreadful moments in which the world existed without Eddie Munson in it, that would fade in time but never fully disappear. Always there, just like the stain of his blood on your palms. Always there, just like your desperation to have him at your side. “I meant it when I said I’m yours. I’m not changing my mind. I want this.”

His skin is back on yours, body laid fully along your own road map, and it all comes flooding back. The pain of seeing his lifeless body, the nights spent in an eerie hospital room, baring your own teeth at any one who came too close to the man you had pulled back from the ledge of Death. The anxiety, the fear, the relief, the yearning – it all accumulates as he’s pressing into you, brimming you so full that there’s no room for memories of nightmares.

He’s here. He’s yours. You’re his.

His heart didn’t need to beat for you to accept that truth.

You can’t decipher which chants of your name fall from his lips for others to hear, and which ones whisper in the depths of your mind for only you to bear witness to. Each curse, each grunt, each moan – there for you and only you anyways. You’re entirely unsure if your lips even separate once as he thrusts, cock brushing somewhere deep in you that has you clenching around him.

And if his fangs wander, it only adds to the pleasure.

Blood, sweat, and tears all mingle between your bodies. He’s holding you tighter than water, as though you’re at risk of disappearing from him at any given moment. But that link between your two minds, your two souls, is unwavering. It’s the only thing grounding you to the moment as your half curls around his waist and your heel digs into his lower back. Urging him, pressing him, taking him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says it out loud, this time. You feel his lips brushing against your ear as he does, “Gripping me so tightly. This pussy was fucking made for me.”

Every movement only unlocks something more feral inside the two of you. Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines to trace over once it’s all said and done. There’s enough shallow bite marks across your neck that you’ll be wearing scarves for weeks, months. The others might question it, strangers might stare, but the pride you feel as he marks you is unmatched for any anxiety about it.

That black hole of hunger is no longer swallowing either of you whole. That debilitating pain, that animal inside, has been tamed.

When his hips begin to stutter, mouth no longer capable of the strength to properly bite you as his lips only smear the soft spattering of blood pooling at the base of your throat, you’re already there. Squeezing him tightly, sucking him in, voice raw as you let everyone know who’s ravishing you.

Eddie.

Hawkins’ newest zombie boy – Hawkins’ newest vampire.

The climax is just as pleasurable as the lead up. The haze lingers long after his spent has dripped out of you, long after he’s collapsed into your body with exhaustion and contentment. The blood dries, the wounds clot – but that haze doesn’t falter.

As long as his skin presses to yours, you feel that caress of his mind against yours.

“Did…” you’re breathless as his face nuzzles into your nude chest, a few mindless hums of gratification still slipping from him as you bring a hand to toy with the curls at the crown of his head, “Did any of your vampire books say anything about… that?”

The connection. The bloodlust. The spell you swear he still has you under, even as it’s all said and done.

He snorts against your skin, “Not that I, uh, recall.”

“What? You mean to tell me in all your research, you never dived into any vampire smut?” you tsk jokingly, a calm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He lifts his head, and you swear, those honey-brown irises have threads of a deep maroon now, “You’re slacking, Munson.”

“Why read about it when I can just experience it?” he coos, letting his nose and lips drag across your still hot skin before he rests his chin on your sternum, “Besides, I mean – we’ll need to do this again, won’t we, baby? For research.”

Your head still spins. Your body aches in a welcome manner. There will be a need for explanations to others, for actually researching his condition, later on. But for now, it’s enough.

The pounding behind your ribcage, the one you know Eddie feels for the both of you when his ear presses to your chest, is enough.

Of course, lover.

That thought stays between the two of you. The world doesn’t need to know what can’t hurt them.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #kas!eddie munson #kas!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #reader essentially became soul bound to him womp womp #don't drink a vampire's blood kids #i really didn't edit that intensely i spent two hours fucking with photoshop #if it's bad it's bad #finally dipping my toes into kas!eddie tho wahoo #vampire!eddie munson #someone requested eddie with this song forever ago but i lost the ask #eddie reading dracula to figure out if he's become a vampire is actually so fucking funny to me

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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

Text

Remus Lupin x fem!reader requested by anon 18+

The night after a full moon always came with consequences.

They were bruise shaped. Violet and lavender and seafoam green, littered across skin like an unwanted reminder. Scratches that would fade to new silver scars and aches and pains deep in his bones that made Remus feel sixty eight, not twenty eight.

It was the only time he’d soak in the tub instead of taking a shower, something he’d usually deem much more proficient. But a new night came round and the threat of the moon was no longer in the sky. It made the air feel lighter and the feeling of sinking into the hot water, honey scented and filled to the brim, was overwhelmingly good.

It was even better when you slipped in too.

Without speaking, you stood in the doorframe to the bathroom you shared with your boyfriend, overgrown plants on the window sill, steam and condensation making the tiles on the walls glitter. Remus peered at you from under his lashes, strong arms braced on each side of the old claw foot tub, head resting against the porcelain.

You raised a brow at him, a question. You touched the hem of his shirt you’d thrown on, bare legs underneath. An offer.

Almost immediately, Remus nodded, sitting up and playing the water lap at the sides, the only sound in the room as you walked in, taking off your shirt as you went. The plaid joined Remus’ clothes on the tiles and you hissed on entry, scalding water licking at your calves as Remus watched your bare figure, eyes sleepy but intent on catching each curve before they disappeared under the bubbles.

You hummed as the boy reached for you, not trying to hide his need as he coaxed you onto his lap. The tub was just big enough for you to settle your thighs on the outside of his, your arms winding around his neck as you let your bare chest press against his.

Another soft noise from your lips as Remus nosed at your cheek, an overwhelmingly affectionate thing that made your heartbeat a little faster. You smiled, turning so he could kiss your jaw, your chin. You dipped your head before he could catch your lips, brushing your lips over the fresh bruise that marred his cheekbone, the scratch on his shoulder you cleaned the night before.

Your boy was bloodied and beaten, but he looked as pretty as ever.

“Lemme kiss you,” Remus complained without any heat, his wet palm coming to cup your chin. “Babe.”

Your nose brushed his, gentle with him like you always were after a rough transformation. Any transformation, really. “Your poor lip,” you reminded him softly. The split in his bottom lip hadn’t stopped bleeding, still reddened when he woke up that morning, causing him grief as he tried to sip his coffee. “I’ll hurt you.”

Remus shook his head. “No, no you won’t.” His hands dropped to your waist, squeezing. He rocked his hips as well as he could under the water, in the small space. But it was enough to let you feel how hard he was, hot skin against yours, the slide and fizz of the bubbles between you. “Need you, y’know.”

You nodded, water clinging to your lashes where Remus had drawn a line across your brow, touch sweeping down the apple of your cheek, the slope of your jaw. He kissed each part, every bit of him warm, lips included. “I know,” you told him.

So you rose onto your knees, one hand on Remus’ shoulders so you could steady yourself and the boy made soft gasping noises as you lined his cock up between your thighs, the head of him pressed to your cunt. You didn’t ask for his fingers first, none of the teasing he’d normally insist on before you took all of him. You wanted that stretch, the tight, hot burn of it. A little bit of pain clashed with the pleasure and you groaned as you sunk down, your noise levelling out to nothing, lips parted as you watched Remus fill you up.

His hands were still on your hips, tighter than ever as he tried to keep himself together, head falling back to the rim of the tub, fighting to keep his eyes open. His thumbs were pushing circles into the soft of your tummy, his jaw clenching before his mouth dropped open in a punch out breath.

When you were finally seated back on his lap, his cock snug inside of you, you swept a damp hand over his hair, pushing back the mess of curls so you could see his eyes. Full of adoration, an astounding amount of love that made you ache.

“Yeah?” You asked him. You weren’t sure what the question was, but Remus seemed to understand, because he swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

The water sloshed around you when you moved, lifting slightly onto your knees again, only just, before you sank back down. Small waves on the side of the bathtub, water rippling around you both that would surely end up on the floor but you didn’t care. Remus let out a groan as you rode him, each movement slow and deliberate and you could feel every inch, every ridge of his cock. It made you teary, how full you felt and maybe Remus could sense it, ‘cause he sat forward and gathered you in his arms, ignoring the throb from each bruise.

If he had you, it was fine. It was bearable. More than bearable.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispered, ducking his head to mouth at your chest, tongue finding a nipple so he could lick broad stripes over it. “You’re so fucking perfect, sweetheart.”

On a normal day, you’d protest, bashful and hot in the cheeks. But you could only whine as Remus dropped his hands to your ass and squeezed, coaxing you to rock yourself over him. Water and bubbles spilled over the edge of the bath, but neither of you cared. The boy moaned into your neck, sucked bruises onto your skin that would match his, pulling at your ass cheeks until his wandering fingertips could feel where he was slipping in and out of you, the pink, wet parts of you that was stretched tightly around him. It made his hips stutter, it made him sink his teeth into the slope of your shoulder.

“M’not gonna last,” he admitted, his energy was already gone. He’d hardly slept. But this? He needed this. “M’sorry, fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

You nodded, hands running over his hair, his neck, his jaw, holding him there so you could kiss him as gently as possible. You whispered, voice soft, “s’okay, handsome. Come for me, yeah? Come inside me, okay? Want to feel you.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #the marauders #remus baby blurb

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cuntycheol · 9 months

Text

To You (C.SC)

Summary: Silence has always been a long-term paying guest between you and your husband. It took a cohabitation and more, to turn things around for Seungcheol and you, to figure out your true feelings.

Themes: romance, fluff, smutty, old money Seungcheol cuz he's your rich, cold but tender husband and you're his smart wifey, scenes of a firebreakout(please skip if you're triggered), some nice scenes of Singapore, and the first smut happens already (virgin!couple, slight inexperiences, orals, vanilla!) Cheol's very warm please I love him so much we'll save the real Cheol monstercock for the future ;3

WC: 7.7K (sowwy)

Playlist: Seventeen's (To You, All My Love, Falling for You SDSMSN, Darling), By My Side by Junny, Better Siopaolo , Alina Baraz (Floating, Alone with you, if you let me) I.M Flower-ed, Bibi Step

feel free to arrange them sowwy they're a lil mis arranged

A/N: helloo carats!! Had to make my first post about my man Cheol(thank u to my man) with the good ol' husband!au. It's evident im in my "oh husband cheol feelings" where we loving him real good! I've been impatient so I posted it a bit earlier than expected :D my comfort loving carats, this is based off All My Love and To You lyrics <3 I hope you enjoy this piece of writing as much as I enjoyed writing this! Happy Cheol Day you living legend coupranghae btches :")

Updated: mini sequel here <3

Life was divided into four distinct categories, after one whole month of your brand new status as Mrs. Choi, or Mr. Choi Seungcheol's wife:

Breakfasts with and for Seungcheol because he confessed he anticipates what you offer in the am

Touring the exquisite royalty of the mansion built by his great grandparents(specially the crimson paints)

Spending time with Seungcheol's Mom since she adores you more than her son!

Dinner n Slumber, where you sleep with a wall that separates you from your husband.

You don't exactly think it'd change; however you do expect it to. Everyday, you wake up in your own room, without the warmth of your husband because neither of you are exactly ready to sleep on the same bed together, and neither of you can sacrifice your comfort on the couch. Therefore a shared decision convinces your elders to grant your marriage the gift of time, a chance to understand one another before embracing a shared room and shared life. All credit to Seungcheol's mom, who chose you to be her son's perfect match, a decade ago. She envisioned you as the one to be her son's beacon of illumination in his life, and the way your personality coincides with his. Who knew you'd be repaid for your kindness of tagging along with your grandfather to meet his ailing friend, (Seungcheol's grandfather) with a coerced, arranged marriage to their youngest grandson. It was on you to navigate this relationship towards love and the more easier it sounds, the harder it gets.

Your husband's honesty shines through, expressing that his family holds the utmost importance in his heart, and he could never deny his mother's wishes. Although he initially declined the marriage proposal, the elders' persuasion led him to reluctantly agree. Absolute zero differences in both of your situations. Despite the arranged marriage, he promises to ensure your comfort and well-being. Polite knocks on your door in the morning signify his presence, seeking breakfast if you're up for the task, and he would either leave a note saying "ThankYou" or he would leave a fresh flower on the dining table as a small gesture of appreciation for your efforts in preparing breakfast, letting your pride swell with all this generosity, although you'd wish he says it with his own mouth, overcoming those barriers. Considerate compliments follow whether you're dressed in your best, try some new hairstyles, or ofcourse, after enjoying your delightful meals, was one thing that made you hopeful about this relationship.

It's evident he lacks communication, since he only speaks to you at mornings and occasionally on texts, whenever he's late. He possesses no punctuality but you're quick to realize he has a pattern in timings of when he wakes up, when he returns, when he sleeps. Throughout the day, you don't exactly see him. At nights you barely sit with him. He's either in his room or on his laptop. Nothing, among you two, seems like you're in a bond with the youngest heir of this luxurious business.

"Don't forget, the dinner's scheduled tonight" you chime, while he was leaving. He nods and drives his way out for another busy day.

Marrying a business tycoon of "old money" and serving him great breakfasts, were the last thing you expected in your simple life, where you were focused on academic and personal glowups, and rarely had any serious past relationships, or have slept with anyone.

You just believed better things await for you, and if those better things were in the shape of a young handsome husband, who were you to complain.

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"So! Have you decided a honeymoon destination?" Seungcheol's sister-in-law questions, at a calm family dinner. Seungcheol takes a sip from the drink, "I'm positively considering Greece or Bali, or maybe Fiji. We haven't played rock papers scissors yet to choose one destination" earning a small chuckle from everyone, Seungcheol continues to feast on the delicious dinner you had prepared. A variety of topics continue to be discussed and that was the only response Seungcheol ever said throughout dinner.

While the family members took their departure, after another hour of dessert sessions, you thought about his remark, if there's any depth to it. The honeymoon idea and what he has said so far, made you a bit ecstatic.

Seungcheol's seated on the couch, of the lounge upstairs, sipping his usual coffee. you lean towards the railings of the top floor, where yours and Seungcheol's bedrooms neighbored. He looks at you, with tender eyes, yet a cold expression. "So, about the whole honeymoon thing, are you-"

"Oh "don't worry about it," Seungcheol's dismissively remarks, taking another sip of his coffee. "Family dinners are meant for prying into things we wouldn't discuss on a typical morning," he explains. "And Honestly, I don't see the need for a honeymoon." Your heart sinks at his response, disappointment clouding your expression. "But I thought we could at least look at brochures together? Atleast discuss this thoroughly" you respond, trying to mask your disappointment with a glimmer of hope that he might consider it.

Seungcheol lets out a weary sigh, his tone becoming more serious. "You don't have to give in to everything my family demands. They can be nosy, but they'll eventually drop the topic after a few days." He glances down at his laptop, signaling that the matter is closed.

You can't help but feel a pang of hurt as Seungcheol's words crush your hopeful expectations. The thought of a romantic getaway had brought some solace, but now it seems like a distant dream.

"But Seungcheol," you protest softly, trying to keep your emotions without losing your temper, "it's just that a honeymoon could be a chance for us to spend some quality time together, away from only meeting on breakfasts, away from the hustle of daily life, away from being silent everyday, and both of us make an effort, to get to know each other better" He glances up from his laptop, his expression stoic, but you can sense a hint of frustration in his eyes. "I understand your perspective," he replies calmly, "but I'm not sure a honeymoon is the right way to achieve that. We can spend time together here, without the pressure of a fancy trip. We're not close enough nor we're a match to be doing this in the first place"

at this moment, you find yourself getting defensive...

"It's not about a fancy trip, Seungcheol. It's about creating memories, experiencing new things together, and building a connection outside of this huge mansion... where we live in distant bedrooms" you gesture around you, emphasizing the splendor of the place that seems to distance you both from the real world.

His eyes widen momentarily at your words, and you see a flash of emotion that he quickly hides. "It's not that," he retorts yet defensively, "I just think this honeymoon is an unnecessary pressure, and we should be honest about our feelings and not pretend."

You take a step back, hurt and anger welling up inside you. "So, all this time, we were just a pretense? You're quite audacious to say we're incompatible, considering the amount of time you spend with me. Count the days we ever went out? That's right. Zero" you scoff, "you know what, let's just forget this. Forget I ever asked you anything. Thankyou, for lightening my evening, Good Night" Before he could utter a response or rephrase everything, you stomp your way into your bedroom, hiding your face in your palms, feeling a bit guilty of losing your cool already when it hadn't been a while.

Seungcheol stood there, a mix of regret and realization washing over him. He knew he had made a mistake, once again, with his poorly chosen words to convey his thoughts. The truth was, he had never really learned how to express himself properly; heck he couldn't even say a proper "you're so pretty, I think I have started to find some meaning into this relationship?" to the woman he's been living with, in the same house. Unfortunately words often tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought, and he rarely considered how they might sound or how they could impact the other person. As a result, he found himself remaining silent at critical moments, fearing that his words might only cause more harm than good.

The argument with you had brought this flaw to the forefront of his mind. He recognized that his lack of effective communication had hurt you, leaving you disappointed and disheartened. He raises his fist to knock at your door, wishing he could take back his words and find a way to bridge the growing distance between the two of you, yet again, he retreats.

The same gesture was for you standing in front of your door, trying to atleast add a subtle apology, but an instant realization made you stomp your foot dramatically and jump into the warm bed.

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

The next day, you refuse to make any breakfast, or contribute to the daily household activities like you usually do. You sulk in your room, either pacing back and forth, ordering your meal,coffee and everything upstairs.

It angered you how much you like Seungcheol. How deep of an infatuation you've developed towards him, in such a short time, finding glimpses of someone beneath the surface that you want to know better. Yet, the argument hangs heavy in the air, making you doubt whether your budding emotions stand a chance. You journal everything; how much of an asshole he is to not communicate properly, how many layers are there to him, and the only time you two talk, is for an arguement? Everything frustrated you. You hear Seungcheol in the distant, and as much as you were cross with him, you want to look at him, and admire his presence. Although its the first ever arguement you two share, the typical wife in you, expects flowers and apologies first from your husband.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, would often glance upstairs, or at your door. He would expect to see your charming face, he silently admires. Only to slump his shoulders and leave for work everyday.

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Two days pass by, and midnights strike, as you sit alone in your room, the argument with Seungcheol still fresh in your mind, you try to calm your emotions, occassionally collecting your thoughts in process of reading. Lost in your contemplation, you fail to notice the faint smell of burning wires in the air. The faulty switch connected to the lamp had been giving you trouble for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention to it, thinking it was a minor inconvenience, and indeed the most minor issues ignite major disasters.

Suddenly, a small spark ignites near the switch, and within seconds, the flames start to spread rapidly. Second situation of the night escalating this quick. Panic sets in as you realize the danger you're in.

Your heart races as you rush to the door, only to find that it's jammed, likely due to the fire's heat warping the frame. Fear grips you, knowing you're trapped. With no time to waste, you quickly grab your phone and dial the emergency number. Your voice trembles as you explain the situation and your exact location in the house. You yell out Seungcheol's name, as loud as possible, but unable to do so with the smoke rising.

Soon it starts to fill the room, making it hard to breathe. You look around for something to cover your mouth and nose, finding a nearby cloth to protect yourself as you wait for help to arrive. With all your remaining strength, you fan the rising smoke outside the door, to trigger the smoke alarms.

Seungcheol, who was now downstairs fetching a glass of wine trying to prompt an apology for the day he gathers his courage to, smells the smoke and hears the faint crackling of flames; soon he's shaken by the fire alarms sensing smoke. Panic overtakes him as he realizes this leads to your room. As he rushes upstairs, he hears faint bangings from your room, which stops. He calls out your name, but there's no response. Fear for your safety drives him to take action.

Seungcheol approaches the door, with all his force, he breaks it open. only to find the room engulfed in flames. Your figure is barely visible through the dense smoke. He rushes towards your feeble helpless frame, ignoring the scorching heat and billowing smoke. He finds you near window, trying to escape the inferno. With tears in his eyes, he wraps you in his arms and guides you towards the window, with the flames slowly engulfing the entrance door of your room.

In a span of a few minutes, sirens grows louder, and moments later, paramedics and fire brigades arrive, rushing to extinguish the flames and rescue both of you. They break through the main gates, helping you and Seungcheol escape to safety.

"Please check on her! She was unconcious and barely breathing I'm -I Plea-" Seungcheol fails to form a proper sentence.

"Please calm down sir, we're checking on her, and we'll assisst you. You are...?"

"Her husband! Please hurry and check on her god damnit!!" He yells in frustration hoping you're safe.

Soon, you were able to breathe on your own, and slowly you flutter your eyes open, chest heaving from the sudden attack of the horrific accident. Before it could escalate any further, you were given appropriate medications to trigger your drowsiness.

In the aftermath tranquility of this burning situation, Seungcheol stand outside, watching as firefighters work tirelessly to put out the remaining flames. Grateful to have survived the terrifying ordeal, he holds onto your numb hands, finaly letting his tears slip his eyes. He was so grateful to stop a major tragedy, and you're safe, with him.

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The morning sunlight gently seeps through the curtains as you feel it, only to be met with haunting flashbacks of the previous night's terrifying fire, your hopeless voice calling your husband's name, beneath your vision. You shot your eyes open and sit up, heart pounding in your chest as the vivid memories replay in your mind, leaving you trembling with fear. Tears stream down your cheeks as the trauma overwhelms you, and you find it hard to catch your breath.

Seungcheol's immediately awaken by your distress, pulling you into his arms. " I'm here y/n calm down shush..." he whispers tenderly, stroking your head, trying to comfort your trembling body as best as he can. He embraces you tightly in his arms, allowing you to cry and release the floodgates of emotions open from the harrowing experience.

He listens to your trembling sobs, his heartbeats a steady rhythm against your ear, and he continues to stroke your arms and back, comforting you through the turmoil. As you find consolation in his warmth, your clenched fists loosen their grip on the fabric of his shirt, his touch brings a sense of safety and reassurance that you desperately need in this moment. You look at him through your red eyes, as he smiles at you endearingly.

"Seungcheol- I...I'm so sorry" you sniff, gripping his hand, "I never knew that faulty switch would bring this huge mess upon us. You must be the one affected the most. I'm so sorry you had to go through this because of me. I should've let you known" you sob.

He gently wipes your tears, resting your head back on his shoulders "as long as you're safe, I'm at peace. It is my fault that I'm so...uh..quite unapproachable? But I went through hell when I saw you. I was sick worried. I'm sorry I should've protected you better. I should've run a new repair scheme as soon as you moved in. It was my insensitivity to let the most minor things slide" he slowly lies down, with you close to him. He smelled nothing like how the entire house did. He smelled sweet and strong. Everything indeed happens for a reason, as you sense how you're into the man, who rarely touches you, holding you dear.

Throughout the day, your husband Seungcheol stayed by your side, enveloping you in comforting embraces. He ordered breakfast to be delivered to his room, encouraging you to take small steps towards regaining your strength and energy to get on your feet. He offered the support you needed to gather the courage to move on your own and freshen up with a soothing shower.

While you were in the shower, he quietly left the room, allowing you some privacy to release the pent-up emotions that had been bottled up inside you. As the water washed away your tears, the conversations from two nights ago still loomed heavily, unresolved between you both. Yet, amidst the silence and uncertainty, there were his tender gazes - soft and caring. They were like ice on a sunburn, cooling your worries and offering a glimpse of hope. Though words may not have been spoken, his presence spoke volumes, showing that he was there for you in this trying time. You peer outside the window, to see the iron gates glistening with the fog, pitch black sky and the time's almost 11.

Once again, your husband returns into his room, after confirming you've changed, and he smiles at you, approaching with a plate of fruits and berries of all kinds. He was unsure of what your favorite fruit was. He felt unfortunate, of how unaware he is of your preferences. He hands you a bowl of strawberries, and elegantly peels an orange, handing the fruit to you.

"I'm sorry about the previous night" he begins. It catches you off-guard, yet you figure out you're the listener now. "I'm not the best with words, and I do realize I've hurt you-or even worse, left you disheartened. Yet again, I'm at a loss of what should I say, except that let's go on with the honeymoon plans. It may not be the best time right now, but whenever you're sure of doing this, tell me every detail about it; everything you desire for. We'll discuss it." he lifts his eyes towards you, with a subtle smile.

"I thought about everything, and upon contemplation, I realize I do want to give us a chance" you couldn't contain the bubbling happiness, and immediately hug him "thankyou so so so much Seungcheol. I'm glad you get my point" he was frozen at this sudden gesture, yet didn't fail to chuckle. Although he smiled discreetly knowing how wife-coded you are. "Let's begin as friends? Married friends? We'll know each other little by little" you suggest. "Sure, whatever you suggest" he smiles, shaking your hand.

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Amidst the haunting shadows of the accident's aftermath, and quite some insomnias later, time became your ally, gently coaxing you out of the horrors that had shaken your world. However you found an unexpected haven of love and affection with your husband. In your head, this friendship has escalated rapidly. A realization dawned upon you - the past may have shaped your paths, but the present had the power to rewrite destinies. Over time you had found solace in cohabitation with your husband, late-night conversations about life's intricacies, you delved into shared preferences, whispered dreams, cherished birthdays, and bittersweet memories of childhood. And everyday you discover new sides of him. Soon, you call him "husband" essentially finding pride and power in doing so. He was surprised at first, yet now he loves being called nicknames like "Cheol" or "Cheollie".

In Seungcheol, you found everything you admired in a man - daring, possessive, with a stunning face and a strong physique. He loved to be in shape, and encouraged you to stay fit, though romance wasn't his forte, he never faltered in taking care of necessities. While you weren't sure if you brightened his world, he became your epiphany. His struggles with eye contact and occasional mindless words unveiled the emotions he guarded, making you grateful for the accident that brought you together; without it, you might have given up on him. Now, you cherished the connection that had grown, exploring the depths of both your hearts.

Seungcheol realized soon that the collision of your worlds had a purpose, unveiling the potential for love and connection he hadn't dared to imagine. He slowly felt a major change in himself. Slowly, a transformation took place within him. Moments that were once filled with hesitation and distance, now became opportunities for seeking your attention, for his eyes to meet yours. He longed to be closer to you, finding comfort in watching you sleep peacefully at night and waking up to your smile each morning.

However, amidst this newfound affection, he couldn't decipher where his heart truly lay. Your mother's loving gestures and his sister-in-law's respectful fondness were easy to understand, but when it came to your feelings, he was left uncertain. Did you like him back? Would you ever be able to reciprocate his love? The questions lingered, leaving him vulnerable to the unknown, anxiously awaiting the day he could unravel the mysteries of your heart. It's an endless marathon in his mind.

It took him 4 days to gather his courage and ask you for coffee. You laugh and obviously agreed to accompany him to the city's famous coffee spot. Like the man he was, he memorizes your order and pulls into a drive thru.

Seungcheol drives to a spot he usually stops by, to ease his frustrations; Parks. Laughter of children, romantic couples sharing pda, and a bridge that separates cherry blossoms from the playground, you're immediately in love with this scenario. Both of you share some laughter, and enjoy your coffees and croissants, while the petals of the blossoms shed upon you. The look of love you two exchanged was long; to leave your coffees cold and croissants dry. Both of your worlds revolved around each other, only for Kkuma's barks to bring you back in reality, being greeted by Seungcheol's brother and his wife. Your delightful evening ends with a comfortable dinner and living your best chances of being Kkuma's mother, something your two month marriage with Seungcheol lacked.

Soon enough, you persuaded Seungcheol to shift houses permanently. Despite your old room being perfectly repaired, the trauma of sleeping alone had left a lasting impact. Bonus was Kkuma finally moving in with you and Seungcheol. Understanding your perspective, Seungcheol readily accepted to have you in his room in this house, and the new one seeking, welcoming the idea without hesitation.

Within a mere three days, you both found yourselves settling into your new furnished apartment, which, wasn't expansive, it rather held the essence of a cozy aesthetic. With only one guest room upstairs and a spacious bedroom, you had insisted on sharing the same space, declining any notions of personal separation. He made sure to double check every single thing, to disapprove any mishaps.

"Cheol, this is beautiful! I-I love it!! Thankyou so much, husband!" To him it's no new information, but his cheeks flushed shades of cherries. You were too busy exploring your new house, and he couldn't help but adore every inch of your ecstacy.

"Any time, wife" he replies after clearing his throat, and containing his ecstacy.

You poured your gratitudes to Seungcheol the entire day and actively joined hands with you, playfully engaging in household tasks, cherishing every moment as you transformed the apartment into your shared abode, a place that signified the start of your new world together. Nothing changed in terms of routine, however, you two communicate often,and now there were sparks of mischief from Seungcheol, indicating that silence was no more a welcoming guest. And now Kkuma being an addition, you enjoyed being indoors and outdoors with her. It wasn't often both of you enjoy going out often unless its something such as icecream dates or coffee, or some relaxing walks, because neither of you go anywhere out of your comfort zone; except for a business trip or grocery shopping, however the joy of turning down people who ask for your status, was thrilling. You felt a sense of superiority.

═════════════════════

The next evening he returns home a little earlier than expected, searching for an important flash drive in his drawer. It seemed you were in shower, considering how loud you were singing. He smiles, hearing your soft voice echoing in the room, and suddenly the door knob twisting open. Seungcheol quickly slides open the closet door and gets inside.

It was foolish of him to hide instead of leave, but he thought maybe his presence would freak you out. He slowly opens a little to take notes of the surrounding and was taken aback, seeing you in a towel, and your hair wrapped. He gulps, seeing your glistening body smell like lavender, spreading in the room.

Seeing you in this new light, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire mixed with love. He had never viewed you with such intense admiration before. Tempted to touch and hold you, he controlled his impulses, knowing it was too soon for his hands to explore your curves yet this is the most skin he's seen of you.

You lie down on the bed, laughing and smiling to everything that went in your beautiful mind. Soon you dial your best friend and start off a conversation. Seungcheol senses this was a grave mistake, because phonecalls are obviously long. He had no choice but to stay inside until you're distracted. He facepalms himself, and slowly leans towards the side. You put the phone on speaker while you do your post shower rituals, moisturizing yourself in view of the full length mirror.

"Is Seungcheol home right now? Or should I say your husband" your friend teases you

"Good lord, no he's not. Infact a business trip awaits his presence"

"Tch that's sad. No wonder why you're calling me and not him"

"My man's busy. Sometimes I just hope come early one day and catch me like this? My mind goes places whenever I get out of shower and think of him coming in without notice" you smile coyly "darling you're on my to-do list tonight" you chuckle. Seungcheol could only smirk, after hearing your fantasies.

"Honey you're too inexperienced for this" she retorts

"Inexperienced my foot, I miss my husband already.... and safe to say I actually love him" you sigh.

"Have you told him about your feelings? Have you told him you've never been laid and are deprived" Seungcheol closely listens to everything, occasionally holding his laughter.

"No" you pout again, falling on your back, unaware of seungcheol who was shamelessly hearing you, while admiring your raised chest, that was swollen out off the unknown feelings of you, from him.

"I want to. Everytime I look at him, I want to tell him 'oh Cheollie I love you' " you laugh with your friend, "I'm seriously in love with him and it scares me how quick and sudden it all was. And now its- he's giving me mixed signals. Sometimes he's distant, and sometimes he makes me the most lucky woman ever. I want to tell him I love him, I just don't know when or how" you continue

"Dont say anything. Just go on your honeymoon, and sit on his face, the 2nd hour. Afterall actions speak louder than words" both of you laugh heartily. Seungcheol breathes out a laugh yet onto it, knowing it's over if he's caught.

"Tell me about it" you sigh.

"Seriously! Talk with him and confess! Since when did you become such a big pussy"

"Honey I'm the one with the pussy"

"Goddamn, you- seriously- talk to him. What if he s involved in someone else the time you say the words"

You went silent, the thought just made you sit back up, nd think about it. Could he really have someone else?

"I...highly doubt that. My mother-in-law said he's never really had a serious relationship, since he was focused on training back then"

"Honey its not written on your face that you've never had a man, it aint written on his face that he may have a potential girlfriend before you. What you'll be doing then?" Your friend continues "I hope he's not doing this out of sympathy, considering that whole incident"

Again you felt numb all over, it would've killed you inside out if the signs of Seungcheol's empathy and love was all out of sympathy. However you shake your thoughts, and put a heavy heart on your words, "Then what I'm the one who married him, and I get to choose if I stay or take the other way"

Seungcheol gulped, knowing time is definitely ticking and if he still don't do anything, he'll surely regret.

"Atta girl!"

Suddenly Kkuma runs out from underneath your bed and into the bathroom, and you chase her. "Ahhhhh kkuma stop you frenzy lil- I'll call back later" you chase your daughter, and Seungcheol seeks this as a perfect opportunity to escape.

"Kkuma!!!! That's your dad's favorite shampooo aaa!" You exclaim. Seungcheol takes this opportunity to sprint out of the room, laughing a little at your banter. The smile plastered on his face was priceless. His chest heaved with happiness, ego swollen with pride, heart relieved and thrilled with all the revelations. If he knew anything as a businessman, it was to have a plan. He needs to be prepared for everything beforehand and time was a precious investment. And it was finally time he need to make his first move.

══════════════════════

"Are you interested in accompanying me to this business trip?" Seungcheol asks, out of the blue during breakfast.

"Well, I don't see exactly why wouldn't I" you raise your brows "thought I'd say no"

"Hey hey, it's not that! I just wondered if you'd be up for some adventure, that's all."

"Adventure, huh?" you reply, pretending to ponder dramatically. "Hmm, only if you promise to bring some fun into this 'business' trip."

He smirks, tapping his fingers on the table. "Deal! I'll make sure it's the most adventurous business trip you've ever been on" you're aware of your husband's antics, and it's evident he's brewing something.

You laugh, finding his playful demeanor contagious. "Alright then, you've got yourself a travel buddy. But you better keep your promise, Mr. Businessman."

Seungcheol winks, flashing you a charismatic smile. "Oh, don't you worry, Mrs. Businesswoman. It'll be an unforgettable journey" Kkuma barks in excitement

"Exactly Kkuma" he cheers.

You couldn't help but smile, at how domestic life has turned ever since the coast is clear between you two. The idea of being overseas with Seungcheol sparked a new imagination for you.

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Whoever said travelling is easy, it never is.

After hours of a tiring flight, you found yourself in Singapore, the astonishing city of tourism. The sights were indeed beautiful, with city skyscrapers and landscapes that mesmerized you. The fresh air was a welcome change, adding a touch of excitement to this trip. Your husband, with his penchant for luxury, had chosen a hotel room at a height, providing a stunning view of the city and the rivers below."It must be even more beautiful at night," you thought, taking in the scenery.

Seungcheol's voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, looking incredibly attractive in his white shirt.

"Like what you see?" he teased, clearly enjoying the attention he was receiving.

"Sure I do," you replied with a nervous smile, trying to contain your admiration for him.

"I'll shower first then! I'll be heading out soon, so please order lunch for me as well," he said, scrunching his nose playfully before disappearing into the bathroom.

Following his request, you ordered lunch and kept yourself busy taking pictures of the breathtaking views from your room. Lost in the beauty of the city, you were interrupted by the doorbell, and to your surprise, there stood Seungcheol, clad only in sweatpants, with the towel hanging around his shoulders. You tried your best to keep composure "Oop! Quite a timing, lunch is here" you tried to maintain eye contact but it was hard; both for your eyes to keep to his face, and for his nipples to remain soft in the chilly air of the A/C. It was thrilling and embarassing, considering you now know what he is inside that white shirt he always wears.

"Sure, Thanks. Heard my phone ring" he walks over to the side table for his phone "I'll be quick" he chuckles knowing the effect he had on you. You swore you felt tingles everywhere, and bury your face in your hands, hiding the flusters of your red face and feels. Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol could see your flustered reactions through the reflection of the window; full enough to capture the city's highlights. He knew he has unlocked a new level.

"Sure this journey will be unforgettable"

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While Seungcheol's been busy attending meetings and chats with his clients, you took this opportunity to explore the city's famous landmarks, enjoying some street shows, and a visit to art galleries and ice cream parlors. The times he's available, he shines as usual; enjoying different flavors, mingling with the dancers, and spending like anything on ferris wheel rides, and to exquisite places you've either seen on searches, or never heard of it.

"So Mrs Businesswoman how are you enjoying your stay so far?" He inquires, leaning rowards the railings of the bridge.

"Amazing, you really know how to explore, Mr Dora" you smile. "How long is your business work though?"

"Why is it? Don't you like it here?" He frowns

"No no, it's that you must be tired commuting back and forth, just making sure you don't get sick"

"Don't worry, besides, weren't you the one to be enthusiastic about a honeymoon" he looks up at the starry sky. An instant realization came to you

"Ooh.... I-damn you sneaky lil I should've known why would you ask me to accompany you all of a sudden" you squint at him "I'm not complaining though. You have quite an elite taste" you smile

"Then lets go get dinner and we'll chill on some champagne later" the idea sounds wonderful already. Seungcheol holds your hand, and your heartbeat accelerated at this gesture

"You don't mind...this do you?" He asks, eyes glistening with innocence as if he doesn't tease you every morning.

"No, Honey" you smile. Despite Seungcheol's occasional flirty tactics, you realized that he had eyes only for you.

The next hour after a delicious dinner, you were in shower, and decided to make him suffer twice the time he does, so you come out in slippers, and a piece of towel barely covering your body, just enough to enhance your curves. Your husband who was pouring champagnes, turns around, to his absolute shock, he was foaming, eye-fucking you. You instantly knew you hit the bullseye.

"Forgot my toner here" you smile innocently, and unintentionally fulfilling your fantasies. Whatever was hard, was definitely not because of the temperature. Soon you return in just an oversized shirt and some shorts, that has been your usual night-fit. He hands you your glass, looking a bit horny. There was silence. Quite a sexually tempting one. Lights were dim, the view was spectacular.

It's when he realized he's had enough and pulls you on top of him, your lingerie-less body hitting his hard chest

"God..Seungcheol what is-"

"I'm I hav- Oh god I don't know how to say this" he contemplates, as you see his soft lips between his teeth

"What the hell you're the one to pull me on you" you roll your eyes

"Sorry I'm I-"

"Never mind" you hold his face and attach your lips with his. To be frank, you've had tolerated enough and it's time you do sit on his face.

The synchronization of your lips moving with his, was very perfect for a first time. You kept on kissing and kissing, exploring every inch of his mouth until he pushes you for a catch of breath. You flutter your eyes open and smile, slowly transcending to a laugh

"God you're so...menacing" he speaks "about time you finally do what you said to your frien-" he stops knowing he said a little too much. You look at him in shock "does that mean you-"

"Sorry" he nervously says. You squint your eyes at him again, very suspiciously "how much did you listen"

"Everything" he confessed "it was unintentional, you were busy on the call and I came for something then I forgot common sense. Sorry" he apologizes. You knew the cat had been out of the box, you were unable to notice it. You sigh, after a quick contemplation

"Well, it's no secret anymore. Here I'll say it fir-" he puts a finger on your lip, switching positions, where he is on top of you now. It earned a small squeak from you, yet you felt your core getting a bit wet by how attractive that was. His leg rested between yours.

"Let me" he stares in your soul. You gulped, kind of getting wet by how his built is hovering on you.

"Y/N, I'm foolishly, in fucking love with you" the sudden profanity made you grin a little harder, all while he strokes a loose strand off your face "honestly. I can't believe it took me this long to express my..sheer love for you, y/n. Back then, i would've died without you but now I...would die for you. I can't imagine a world without you, so if you please let me be yours forever?"

"I hated every inch of air I shared with you then, and how we were just bonded without sharing a hello" you smile, cupping his face "I never imagined I'd find every moment with you, so profound. Every minute with you was magical, and it only concludes how destined we are for each other"

"I love you Seungcheol"

"I love you too..."

With that, he took the "action speak louder than words" a little too serious. His lips wrestle for dominance with yours, and the thigh that was calm, started stirring up a storm between your legs, as he continuously grinds on you. You pull onto the hem of his shirt, and he immediately does, while his hands explore your body inside your shirt. He slowly makes his way from your lips to your neck. Everything felt so ecstatic; it was your new high. You clenched onto the soft pillows for dear life, when Seungcheol slides himself into your oversized shirt, his lips between the valley of your perky breasts, craving his attention. He admires every inch of your perfectly created body.

"Stop...teasing" you moan. He feigned ignorance, continuing to play with your sensations. He pulls you up by your back, and swiftly removes the shirt and throws it on the floor. "There's no stopping me tonight y/n," is the last thing he says before pinching your nipples, and making the best use of his mouth on them. He enjoys hearing the profanities escape your lips, and how your voice changes upon pleasure.

You push him by his shoulders and get down on him, sliding the waistband of his shorts down to his knees, his dick springing high on your face. You gaze at his length before mindlessly taking every inch in your hands. "You..you..do..nt hhhave to ddoo t-ohhh" he groans. "You don't tell me what to do...."

"Such a brat" he smirks, letting you rule his excitement. He felt his high, once you slowly took him in your mouth, taking in as much as you could without gagging (yet) it's a matter of time he shifts from a thread of "oh ffuckk" "you're doing it so good" to "I'm gonna cum" and it's when you stop. You hastily take your shorts off and slowly grind on him. Seungcheol was panting manic. He was a mess. The entire room reeked of lust and his musky scent overshadowing, with his sweat. It proved how much of an authority you held on him

"Slide all the way up to my face beautiful I don't bite"

That's all you needed for your dripping core to slide on his nose, to his mouth. His tongue did wonders. You were sure you wouldn't last long considering this is your first oral ever, and sure you didn't, his tongue toyed with your nerves, and used every "shits" "fucks" "oh cheol" as his drive to go deeper in your cunt. "I'll cum I'm cumming I-" you release on his lips, and like a man, he devours it all.

"Delicious"

"You...you sound like cand..candy crush for god's sake" you breathily chuckle, and he follows, slowly getting up, to position himself on you.

"Then allow me to...'smash' " he presses a tender kiss on your forehead, before entering your core. You squeezed his hand, asking him to be gentle and burying your face in his neck, fingers in his back. It felt so...weird the first few minutes, but as he slowly moves, the funky feeling, the pain, it all vanishes. It's all when you realize you're actually getting laid. The sounds you've never considered you'd make, were too loud, way too unholy. Seungcheol was holding your leg, and was going slow till you adjust to him. His low groans and breathy moans turned you on even further, where you move your head to face him and slap his arm

"Giv...give me e...every..thing, husband. Take me all the way up" you breathe out. It's when he increases his pace, once he received your green signal. The slow slaps, were now louder and faster. Your bed was also giving up on concealing it's squeaks. He holds you in his arms, and continues thrusting in you.

Nothing else in the world mattered but the pressure you felt in between your legs and your delicious heat wrapping around him, engulfing him in until he bottomed out. His head falling into the crock of your neck, whispering sweet nothings against it while he started to fuck you slowly.

“Y-You feel so good, so w-warm.” Seungcheol kissed you, feverishly, swallowing your moans. His soft lips whimpering against yours. “I want to be inside you forever.” His hips moving against yours slowly, making sure you could feel all of him inside you. His hands never leave from your back and pushed you against him, chests heaving against one another’s. You arched your back, gripping the blankets underneath you. "Oh Seungcheo...god....cheol..." you breathe. He continued tinting your neck with his masterwork, and swiftly positions you on all fours. The joy you felt by the way he dominated you, and messed with your fucked out state, was bringing you heaven. You go low, arms stretching towards the headboard, while he grabs them, locking them behind your back, and even going hard.

There was no stopping him, all while the whole city from your foggy windows witness you making love witb your husband.

"Look at yourself, love" he turns your head to the mirror on the right "look at us..mmm..." he moans in your ear his hand snaking in between your bodies searching for the little bud of pleasure. You scream in pure ecstscy.

He turns you around, so swiftly, with his thumb hovering over it, the suspense had you withering, begging for him to touch you the only way he knew how. You whimpered feeling the ghost of his touch, your fingers tweaking at your nipple, sending a rush of pleasure through your body. "C..ch..chheoll..., mmm, I-I need to cum.” You pressed your chest into his back, turning your head all the way up, watching as his face contorted into pure bliss, his thrusts getting sloppier, his connected thumb with your clit and rubbing slow figure eight, constrasting the speed of his thrusts. You gasped raising your hips rocking against his hips and hand, feeling the sweet coil start to build up "im..fucking serious oh....my..."

"Release all on me, love" he demands amidst moans "Cum with me. Savour every drop of it" and it's all you needed to finally finish on him. He groaned finding your free hand and interlocking your fingers with his. You clenched around him. He was pumping as well, and you felt all warmth being filled inside you. Every thing about this was so surreal, so new, so perfect. You breathe as if you had run a marathon; a marathon of lust. Seungcheol hugs you, and stays inside you, caressing your head, showering you with compliments that you were brave and did well for your first time. The sense of encouragement brought tears to your eyes as you bury your face in his chest. He caressed your back with tender touches, and slowly lays you on your back, plopping down next to you.

"You're officially all mine" he kisses your shoulder. You hold his hand tightly, "you're mine as well, babe"

For the first time, you felt real comfort, real love, and an unimaginable intimate experience with your husband. And a shower too.

Seungcheol's heart hadn’t stopped palpitating since. His stomach erupted into butterflies whenever he had held you close throughout the immoral escapades the two of you had engaged in all night. He never wanted to let you go and now as he looked down into your glittering eyes with the heat of the golden sun rays hitting your sensitive bodies.

"Wake up husband"

"I think I want to sleep all day tonight" he shuffles closer to you.

"Oh who knew it would hard to wake my husband up from his slumber"

"Blaming on your irresistable charm" he squeezes your butt under covers.

"Owh! I'll need my own room again if you do th.." his hands cup your clothed core

"Hmmm...you were saying?"

"You.." you fail to form sentences once he starts rubbing your core, slow dense circles.

"Hands to yoursel..f or I'll bite" you whisper

"Oh, my damsel in distress" his voice is contagiously attractive;waste no time as he goes down on you undercovers.

═════════════════════

"We're really leaving Singapore as lovers" he chimes, an ear-to-ear grin fixed on, enhancing his dimples.

"Yeah if it weren't you to have the same traits as you family, you nosy lil witch" you exhale, standing in front of the fountains, almost nearing the airport

"I'm always nosy about everything" he smirks

"Honesty is not always the best policy Mr Choi"

He pulls you dangerously close "You have no idea, Mrs Choi"

"You need a haircut"

"All I'll ever need is...you" he holds onto you like a sloth on a branch, as you two harmonize in a melodious laugh.

It is you, he wants to tell everything to. He'll express his love for you, while he holds your hands in his.

And if there's eternal love, Seungcheol is that person for you.

✿═✿═✿═✿═✿═✿c✿═✿═✿═✿═✿═✿

Thenkyoui for reading!! Stay bias wrecked by him <3

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rhys-writes-some-shit · 3 months

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Learn to Take "No" for an Answer

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic)

Alastor was often a busy man, but he always managed to keep tabs on you. The moment your heart rate started to increase, he could feel it. He’d stopped what he was doing immediately and went off to find you. The moment he saw you surrounded by Sinners, with Vox at the center, he was ready to initiate a massacre.

But instead, he watched as you held your own, not once swaying from your opinions.

Once you tackled Vox to the ground, though, Alastor knew he needed to step in. He knew you could definitely hold your own for now, but you were not powerful enough to combat Vox if he retaliated. He only wished he’d been able to watch you stab that knife through Vox’s throat…

A few minutes earlier...

Humming to yourself, you skillfully sidestepped a bloody corpse on the sidewalk. Sometimes all you needed was a nice walk to clear your head. Today, the walk improved your mood immensely. The only thing that could make it better was if Alastor started one of his broadcasts. You knew it was unlikely to happen, but that didn't stop you from glancing up at the speakers above the streets in hopes they'd turn on.

You passed by the VoxTek TV display, pausing to watch the news highlights. Another turf war on the other side of the city, an ad for some sort of imp hitman business, clips from the latest episode of Hell’s Next Top Idol. Anything owned by VoxTek wasn’t allowed in the hotel, which meant you didn’t have access to all the media you would’ve liked. Sometimes, watching the TV display was the closest thing you got.

“Like what you see?” A tall figure suddenly appeared behind you. The small group of Sinners who’d also crowded around the TV display suddenly burst into exclamations and talking.

Turning around, you found yourself looking up at Vox's flatscreen face, causing you to grimace.

“Oh, come now, don’t be like that. I expected better from Alastor’s little pet.” Vox was grinning slyly, arms behind his back with authority. “I have a proposition for you, sweetheart.”

“If you’re here to ask me to watch Al for you, the answer is ‘no.’” Glaring, you attempted to find a way out of the crowd circling around you and Vox, but the wall of Sinners had increased, becoming impenetrable.

Vox rolled his eyes. “Of course not, hot stuff. I’m not an idiot. Alastor doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t,” you shrugged. “Regardless, I really should be on my way.”

Even with that statement, the crowd of Sinners didn’t move. They were all watching Vox, enamored with the scene playing out in front of you. As your heart rate increased, you could only hope that Alastor would notice.

“We should talk some more, sweetheart. You’re such a handsome little thing.” One of Vox’s hands reached towards your face, caressing your cheek. “If you ditched that old-fashioned prick and came with me instead, I think you’d find yourself much better off.”

Clenching your jaw, you angled your face out of Vox’s grasp. “I'm doing just fine as I am right now, thanks.” You made your voice cold, desperately trying to get your disinterest across.

“Don’t be so sure.” Vox raised an artificial eyebrow. “I could give you more than Alastor ever could. Join me, and you can become one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords.”

The talking from the surrounding crowd grew louder, people taking pictures and recording the confrontation. The idea that Vox just asked to share his power with some random Sinner was crazy to the rest of the public. It wouldn’t take very long for word to travel all throughout Hell. The idea of your face plastered across cell phones and TV screens across the city made you nervous. Not to mention, you’d have to report to Vox, and he was an asshole.

“I'm not interested,” you ground out, keeping your back straight to feign confidence.

Vox scoffed. “Playing hard to get, are we?” He was grinning. “You look so fucking hot when you’re pissed off.”

Silently, you were begging someone, anyone, to come and rescue you. You couldn’t guarantee that you could keep your composure much longer. “I’m not interested,” you repeated, just as sternly.

“Aww, are you mad, sweetheart?” Vox cooed mockingly. “Upset your owner isn’t here to save you? If you came with me, you’d never have to worry about being on your own.”

In a flash, your hands twitched and a knife was suddenly being held to Vox’s throat. You’d tackled him to the ground, the sharp blade reflecting your bright eyes. His eyes were wide, clearly not expecting you to retaliate.

“Call me sweetheart again and I’ll castrate you, you flat-faced fuck.”

“Oh my!” A dark shadow appeared behind you, quickly followed by Alastor’s tall figure. Despite his smile, you could clearly see he was just as pissed as you were. “Darling, is Vox bothering you?”

“Not anymore.” You pressed the knife closer to his neck, allowing a few droplets of blood to slide down the knife before withdrawing. Licking the blood off the blade, you gave Vox a dark grin. “You taste like battery acid. No wonder no one wants you.”

Alastor laughed heartily. “How true! Come along, my dear! Charlie is probably wondering where we are.” Placing your arm in his, you allowed Alastor to escort you away from the now-silent crowd.

“I fucking hate that guy,” you snarled once you’d gotten a few blocks away.

“A nuisance, surely,” Alastor agreed. “I must say, you handled that wonderfully. Quite an entertaining display.”

Smiling lightly, you found yourself flushed at the compliment. “It was nothing. He just needed to learn to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Chuckling, Alastor matched your smile. “I’m sure you got the point along just fine, dearest. And if he didn’t…” Alastor’s face darkened, smile turning sinister. Now it was your turn to laugh, and that was how you walked into the hotel, giggling at each other like a couple of teenage girls.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #rhys-writes #hazbin hotel vox #vox is kind of an asshole ngl #reader hates vox fr #alastor x reader queerplatonic

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loveundrwrld · 4 months

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yan bully (past) x gn reader

kinda angsty, wanted to do something different with the concept of a yan bully. do make sure to heed the content warnings on this one as this is a little more dark/potentially triggering than what i typically post.

(cws: bullying, trauma from said bullying, implied childhood trauma, stalking, yandere is kinda self-destructive(?) for lack of a better word, general yandere shenanigans)

- yandere bully who taunted and tormented you in childhood . . . though, he doesn't initially remember it that way

- when it started, he was just ‘playing’ with you. and as time went on, he started to unconsciously project his complicated feelings onto you. just ‘pranks’ and ‘playing around’ to release some of his stress. and when his friends join in, he sees nothing wrong with it.

- your reactions are funny- and he wants to share that with his friends. why would that be wrong?

- he’s been treated the same way- and to him, he thinks he ‘turned out just fine.’ so it’s ok, isn’t it?

- after all, when you try to get teachers involved . . . they don’t think it’s an issue either. just kids playing around. so why should he feel bad?

- the reader, after a while of being bullied nearly daily, becomes apathetic to it. this irritates him. he wants to be in the forefront of your mind, for better or for worse . . . though, he doesn’t quite know why.

- he becomes more focused after that, more obsessive. he doesn’t really let his friends tease you as much anymore- though, that mercy is short-lived as he solely focuses on you instead.

- after a bit, you graduate from school and go to college, seemingly now only focused on your studies. you don’t reach out to him, or any of his friends for that matter. from what he hears about you, you aren’t interested in getting in touch with anyone from your old school at all.

- this agitates him. he needs, he realizes, to be in your life somehow. perhaps he was a little too mean, he realizes, but surely you’ve gotten over it, right?

- he begins to stalk you, trying to figure out more about what you’re like now, needing to see more about you. he sees, with a sinking pit in his stomach of realization, how paranoid you are now. how scared you are of new people, how jumpy you are when other people surprise you. how resistant you are to make new friends.

- at first he’s in denial. it couldn’t have been him who made you that way, could it? something must have happened.

- but he realizes, over time, that how he treated you was very wrong. he thinks now about treating you like the way he once did . . . and he feels sick. how could he have taken his anger out, on someone like you?

- but despite that, he finds that he absolutely needs to know everything about you now. he can’t let you out of his sight, he has a desperate hunger to see everything he can about you.

- eventually he starts trying to contact you . . . to let you know just how sorry he is. he’ll make it known to you how much he desires your forgiveness, how much of a painful need it is for him. how much he’s changed, and how much he regrets hurting you.

- he lets you know that, if you what you want is revenge? he’s perfectly happy doing anything you want to any of his former “friends.” he can help you . . . and even help you hurt him, if that’s what you want. just so long as he can see you.

- you ignore his letters, dumping them in the trash without reading them. and a part of himself that he doesn’t want to admit still exists . . . is angry. can’t you see how much he needs your forgiveness now?

- despite knowing better, and knowing he’s only going further towards upsetting you once again . . . he still needs to see you, to write to you.

- he just can’t live without you.

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #gender neutral reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere bully #i was going to let this sit and post it tommorrow but i forgot that tommorrow is a holiday LOL so here’s my gift. i’m posting this early

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chichiscloset · 1 year

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Soft Life 101: 3 Steps to Escape Your 9-5 Job If You Don’t Want to Work

Before we start, I want to clarify what I mean by “Not wanting to work.”

It means, that I don’t want to exhaust myself. I want to roll out of bed at 8 am then go to a workout class at 9 am. I want to spend my time as I please while keeping my workload to a minimum.

Working consistently, burns me out. I have no desire to prove my worth through productivity, nor do I have any desire to engage in hustle culture. I’m sure many of us can relate to feeling like the pressure to perform is exhausting. This is likely why, “soft life” is the latest trend on social media and has taken the girlies on Tiktok by storm.

In this new soft life era apparently, no one has a job and everyone is a "sahm" or "sahgf". While I understand the desire to escape the matrix and have a man you can fully depend on. Creating a more balanced and fulfilling life does not have to solely depend on your partner (though it helps!).

At the end of the day we still all want money! So how can we create an abundant life while still having a work-life balance?

Step 1: Be willing to make sacrifices

There is no such thing as something for nothing. Get that out of your head! I know we sometimes want to be saved, but unfortunately, life isn’t always a fairytale. Everything that we desire in life requires us to give up something else.

Do you want a better body? Give up junk food and exercise more. Do you want a better man? Give up your dust! To bring in the new we have to get rid of the old. If you want a soft life you’re going to have to strategize and be willing to give up what is no longer serving you.

Step 2: Find a passion you can monetize

*major key*

As the saying goes, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life”. Find something you enjoy doing, then figure out how you, can earn money from it. Are you good at doing hair? Become a hairdresser. Are you the best dressed in your circle? Become a virtual stylist. I promise you, for whatever talent you have there are people willing to pay you for it!

For myself, I love teaching and writing! Blogging is a great way to share my expertise, create passive income, and create the life of my dreams that don’t necessarily depend on me going into a job. Also, you can make money blogging with a relatively small audience.

Check out my blog post "Make Money When your Young, Pretty & Ambitious." For more on this topic.

Step 3: Invest, invest, invest

*Another major key*

We all need money to survive. There’s no way around it! Ideally, we would live a life where money isn’t an issue and if that is your goal you have to start investing ASAP! By investing in assets eventually, those assets will make you money.

For example, invest in stocks like the S&P 500 (which is an index fund that is essentially many companies in one stock). Invest in stocks that will grow over time and make you more money than you bought them for. There are tons of ways to start investing: choose one!

A few types of investments

Real estate

Stocks

Businesses

If living a soft life is a priority to you start today with these steps that will eventually allow you to either fully retire or work minimally. If you don’t, you’ll just be stuck doing something you don’t enjoy or waiting for prince charming to come and save you.

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whorekneecentral · 7 months

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merry smutmas series

hi besties!! since I'm skipping out on kinktober this year, I figured I wouldn’t be fair for me to leave you guys without some sort of holiday treat so here we go again.

I won’t be able to fit everyone into this series cause with would have taken me forever so between classes and other fics, I’ve been working on this since august lmao. I hope y’all enjoy these as much as I enjoyed writing it <33 // massive thank you to @oconso for the banners and to @themandaloriansdiaries for all the help plotting and for listening to my complaining <3

running from: November 1st to December 31st - every Tuesday, Thursday and on the weekends

tagged under: merry smutmas xoxo

November 1st: Sebastian Vettel - Sticky Fingers

Your husband spends his first Christmas at home since his retirement and he went a little.. a lot over board.

November 4th: Trent Alexander Arnold - As Red As My Stockings

Trent’s crush on the pretty physio is well known amongst the players. They make sure to help him fulfil one last Christmas wish before you all head home for the holidays.

November 5th: Pato O’Ward - Snow Storms

Your boyfriend insists the roads are fine to drive despite the massive incoming snow storm; as someone who grew up in cold weather, you knew better. yet, there you were stuck on the side of the road with him in the snow.

November 7th: Ruben Dias - Miss Me, Miss Me

Your brother holds his annual Christmas party and you’re forced to spend the afternoon with the one person you had been avoiding all season but tis’ the season you guess. (stones!reader)

November 9th: Pierre Gasly - Cocoa

You have your boyfriend drive all around the city until you find the one thing you were looking for. When you finally find it, you decide you want something else.

November 11th: Ben Chilwell - Snowflakes On The Glass

Ben insists on having a snowball fight when he wakes up to the massive snowfall but you want nothing more than to stay in bed.

November 12th: Kimi Raikkonen - Only The Best For You

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly. (dad’s best friend!kimi)

November 14th: Lucas Paquetá - Spin Me Around

Lucas busts out the champagne and the streamers to celebrate the new years in your new place.

November 16th: Yuki Tsunoda - Sous Chef

Yuki finds himself more fascinated by the woman cooking than the food on his plate for once. (chef!reader)

November 18th: Erling Haaland - Christmas On The Farm

Erling takes you home to spend the holidays at the Haaland Family Farm and you two end up being the only ones there.

November 19th: Lance Stroll - Old Friends

Lance gets an invitation to an old teammate’s place to ring in the new year but he finds himself too distracted by someone in particular to care about the ball dropping (vettel!reader)

November 21st: Jude Bellingham - Ugliest Sweater Wins

Jude is invited to Luka’s Christmas party, an ugly Christmas sweater party to be exact. It took a bit of convincing but you got him to go.

November 23rd: Daniel Ricciardo - The Flash Of The Camera

You enlist Daniel to help you with your Christmas gift for him.

November 25th: John Stones - Black Out

Your boyfriend blows a fuse with the Christmas lights and you’re stuck in the dark, but you find a way to make the best of it.

November 26th: Fernando Alonso - Your Pick

Fernando enlists the help of a certain someone to get his Christmas shopping done but the list is oddly familiar (pr officer!reader)

November 28th: Kostas Tsimikas - The Smell Of The Holidays

You over baked for your niece’s holiday bake sale so you do the neighbourly thing and share with your neighbour, Kostas and his two puppies.

November 30th: Toto Wolff - Winter Wonderland

Your husband skips out on Christmas every year due to work but this year, he ends up in London. You make it your mission to introduce him to some holiday fun.

December 2nd: Christian Pulisic - Ho Ho Hoe

You find a pair of Christmas boxers in Christian’s drawers and decide to tease him about it.

December 3rd: Mick Schumacher - Merry Ruff-mas

Angie goes missing the day before Christmas and Mick finds her at the neighbouring ranch, wrapped up with ribbon and bows.

December 5th: Jordan Henderson - Shivers

Jordan comes in after shovelling the driveway and keeps trying to love on you. You tell him that you can feel how cold he is but he makes sure to show you what cold really feels like.

December 7th: Lewis Hamilton - Tis’ The Season

An old friend finds his way to you front door and no matter how much you try to get rid of him, you can’t.

December 9th: Dominik Szoboszlai - Come Home

The two of you are separated over the holidays and you’re missing each other a little too much to keep this going.

December 10th: Charles Leclerc - The Night Before Christmas

A massive snow storm delays Charles’ flight home for the holidays and you both begin to give up hope but a Christmas miracle occurs.

December 12th: Virgil Van Dijk - Holiday Greetings

You send your old friend a Christmas card every year and when he sees that a certain someone was no longer in the picture, he pays you a long overdue visit.

December 14th: Mark Webber - A New Term

You send your professor an email over the winter break and the man wonders why you’re still working, urging you to come out and relax like everyone else. (Professor!Webber)

December 16th: Thiago Alcantara - Bubbles

You find yourself aching from all the holiday prep and your husband being the good man that he was, makes sure you’re feeling okay after a long day.

December 17th: Jenson Button - A Sandy Christmas

Jenson takes you on a dream vacation over the holidays but still makes sure you’ve got a gift to open come Christmas morning. (Sugar Daddy!Jenson)

December 19th: Kylian Mbappe - Family’s Growing

Kylian finds himself swooning over how good you are with his niece and nephew, the thought of having a family with you spins around his head.

December 21st: Carlos Sainz Jr - Traditions

Coming back from Christmas with your family, the two of you return to Spain to celebrate new years with his family and all their traditions.

December 23rd: Andy Robertson - Mistletoe Means Kisses

The overpowering smell of mistletoe hits you when you walk into he house, your husband came up with his own plan while you were out.

December 24th: George Russell - A New Tradition

You and George spend your first Christmas together and you mash together the traditions from both of your families.

December 26th: Jack Grealish - Always Around

A wild new years night out leaves you bumping the same person over and over again.

December 28th: Esteban Ocon - The Gift Of Giving

Esteban takes a liking to the barista that works at the cafe near his place. He finally works up the courage to ask her out in time for the holidays.

December 30th: Sergio Ramos - Secret Santa

The players and the staff play secret Santa every year; they write a letter, toss in a box and everyone picks. Sergio some how lands on the person he’s always had a soft spot for.

December 31st: Max Verstappen - Time Is Running Out

Max wasn’t one for resolutions but as the clock counts down the hours to new years, he finds himself running to resolve the biggest resolution on his list; you.

#merry smutmas xoxo #football smut #f1 smut

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mangekyuou · 6 months

Note

If you are up to it and haven’t already done it. Could you pretty please write head cannons of the kid, heart, and straw hat pirates as parents. My favorite one is killer.

★ THEM AS PARENTS! headcanons ★

── featuring. sanji. zoro. kid. killer.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. no mentions of pregnancy. whole cake island and wano spoilers. me rambling again. not proofread.

── notepad. usually my limit is 3 but i added one more bcuz i felt inspired. it’s been awhile since ive written so i feel out of practice and these feel all over the place im so sorry. but i will say, i love you girl dad zoro and killer. i could talk about them forever

★ VINSMOKE SANJI ★

── unlike everyone else, sanji HAS thought about settling down and having kids. he thinks about it at least twenty times a day. every time he looks at you, he’s always thinking about your future together

── so when your twin boy and girl show up in your lives, he couldn’t be happier. he’s never been happier. life is finally coming together the both of you

── he loves your twins with all of his heart, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want any more children. he’s already dreamed of having a big family that he can share all of his love and care with. and because he already had at least four baby names picked out

── given his own upbringing that he never ever plans to tell your children about, sanji takes his fatherly role very seriously. he does everything in his power to be better than his own father

── never will he allow any of his children to take his surname. he would prefer if they took yours or even adopted a new one altogether

── never will there be any middle child syndrome or favoritism between your kids. he loves each of them equally and does pretty well at spreading out his time with each of them, making all of them feel loved and cared for

── every night he gives everyone a long tearful good night before sending them all their separate ways like he’s never going to see them again….they’re just down the hall

── he is a very emotional father. no matter what your children do, milestone or not, he will sob. first words and steps, sobbing. finally being able to dress themselves, sobbing. nearly setting the kitchen on fire attempting to make him a birthday cake, he sobbed all day and tried to eat the inedible cake despite you telling him NOT to

── he was sick for a few weeks after that. how the cake was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, neither of you could ever figure it out

── his favorite family activity is cooking together. he loves cooking for each of you, but there’s something about teaching your little ones all of his favorite recipes, or even learning how to make a whole new dish altogether, that warms his heart. plus seeing them all get along and work together as a team brings joyful tears to his eyes

── but he can definitely be the indulgent parent. all his kids have to do is flash him the puppy eyes and a pout and he’s a goner, leaving you to play the authoritative parent and say no

── he is also the affectionate, embarrassing, and petty dad, always smothering the little ones in hugs no matter how old they get

── they could be in their late teens and he’ll still hug them the same as he did when they were small. or he’ll embarrass them in front of their friends by yelling how much he loves them and expects them to say ‘i love you’ back OR he’s not going to let them go anywhere

★ RORONOA ZORO ★

── girl dad

── the thought of being a dad never crossed his mind. he was focused on his goal at hand, becoming the greatest swordsman. he wasn’t exactly sure having a kid would fit in that

── but he was going to have to figure it out because resting in his arms was an infant girl with the most precious cheeks

── you don’t have to worry much about your daughter, even in infancy your daughter adopted your husband’s calm and quiet nature. she even adopted his napping habits

── if he’s asleep out on the deck in the sun, she’s asleep out on the deck, either in his chest or in his lap. and no one dares to wake them, especially not after that time when usopp and sanji were arguing too loud, causing your daughter to stir in her sleep, alerting zoro immediately. in a matter of seconds, he held your baby in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other

── nap time is a VERY serious thing

── though your daughter’s favorite place to rest is on his back. no matter how awake she may seem, the minute he wraps her in the baby wrap, she’s suddenly very sleepy

── if you’re looking for your daughter and you don’t immediately see her, don’t panic. nine times out of ten, she’s on zoro’s back napping

── she is always present during his training sessions in a little swing franky made and surprised you both with that way he can train and keep an eye on her at the same time. maybe that’s why your little girl ended up showing so much interest in swords as she grew up

── like father, like daughter. your daughter began her road to being a swordsman with zoro as her teacher. he learns from his own past failures, in guiding her to be an even better swordsman than him

── not only giving her the skills she needs to wield a blade, but also skills she will need to grow as a person

── when he is sure he has trained her well enough for them to spar, he will do so without mercy. she may lose a number of times, but to never give up is a skill he instilled in her since the beginning of her training

── and when she finally does best her father, he cannot hide just how proud he is. he’s in all dad mode

★ EUSTASS KID ★

── kid never pictured being in a stable relationship, let alone settling down and having children. he didn’t have much experience with children

── in reality, being a father scared him. it was uncharted waters. he didn’t know the first thing about being a good dad. he knew kids were a lot of work, and he didn’t know if he could handle it

── more importantly, he was worried he was going to let both you and your child down. and he couldn’t live with that

── but here he was now struggling his way through the baby and toddler stages. but through his mistakes and errors, as opposed to getting angry and giving up, like he usually does, he’s gaining patience and trying his best. that’s all anyone could ever ask for

── he becomes a natural over time. no longer needing you to intervene to keep your son from crying up a storm. if it’s taking a little longer than usual to put your son to sleep, and you offer to help, he will decline. his stubbornness and pride won’t allow him to accept your help

── if there’s one thing kid hates more than anything, it’s anyone thinking he can’t take care of his son

── it’s not uncommon to see the captain of the kid pirates to be seen around the victoria punk your son strapped to his chest

── it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s barking out orders to the crew and your excitable little one is reaching up to pinch and pull at his father’s cheeks and nose

── kid claims to not be a dad who cries, but he definitely does cry, oftentimes more than you do

── your son’s first word is definitely a swear word. kid thinks it’s hilarious seeing your son scream fuck

── as your son ages, the more he becomes just like his father. and with age comes the attitude, which does not mesh well with kid’s attitude

── never in a million years would you think you would find kid losing a loud argument to your fussy toddler son about nothing

── and it does not change. it continues to get worse as your son begins to form his own opinions. your son and kid clash even more, leading you to be the mediator between their arguments

── or at points when they stop talking altogether, you have to relay messages to the other because they refuse to be in the same room with each other

── kid wants to start your son off young when it comes to training him, wanting the little one to be hell just like him. if your son expresses interest in learning how to fight, kid is overjoyed but does not plan to take it easy on him just because they’re blood

── if your son has no interest in fighting and wants to lead a peaceful life, kid will be disappointed and it will take some time for it to get out of his system. but he ultimately will support his son’s decisions

── kid has a habit of ruffling your son’s hair or knocking heads as his way of showing affection. that’s just how it has always been since he was born. but the day your son decides to leave the ship to start the new chapter of his life is the first time they share a real hug

★ KILLER ★

── killer is prime girl dad material. king of girl dads, if you will. he’s a natural. well, he becomes a natural after he gets over his fear of holding your daughter

── he has led a complicated life up to this point. it is not something he regrets, but it is something that he worries could affect his family

── these calloused hands have killed, been stained with the blood of dozens, he had lost count. these were not the hands that should hold such a pure soul

── the first time he actually held her was in the middle of the night when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. he pondered on waking you but decided against it seeing you sound asleep. it has been a while since you had gotten a good sleep. you deserved your rest

── he had watched you countless times lull your little one back to sleep. he remembered how you did it, trying his best to keep his shaky hands still, reaching into your little’s crib, gently taking her into his arms

── who knew saying “please don’t cry” in a sweet low voice would be enough to calm her ??

── quite a sight you awoke to, seeing your husband passed out in a chair with your daughter still asleep in his arms

── it became part of his routine, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, he was going to take care of it. when she was old enough to sleep in the bed with the two of you, you better believe she took her place in the middle and kept it well into her late childhood, early teens

── they are attached at the hip. wherever she is, he is and vice versa, no matter the situation

── like the one time the kid called for an emergency meeting and killer could not find you in time so he just took your daughter with him

── everyone was on their best behavior because you had already warned them that if her first word was a swear word you would murder each of them and spread their body parts across the grand line for the sea king to feast upon

── ….they were not going to take the chances

── just your luck, your daughter inherited killer’s luscious hair. no matter what you do to it, no matter how hard you attempt to gel it down, it shoots right back up

── but killer’s got it. he does her hair most days because she prefers it that way they end up matching

── there are two things about killer that he is still very sensitive about. his appearance and his laugh, both things he tries to hide from your daughter. though it is easier to hide his appearance than his laugh

── after everything happened in wano, he was ashamed. he couldn’t bear letting her see him like this. he wanted her to remember him the way he used to look. he wasn’t ready to show her, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

── until he was ready, he allows her to place her hands on his mask and put together what she thinks he looks like.

── currently, she envisions him to be a snake monster under his mask

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angelrari · 2 months

Text

gossip girl · pt. xvi

based on the tv series gossip girl

max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader

fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)

a/n: hi everyone!! thank you so much for the comments on the last part, i had so much fun reading them!! this is slowly coming to an end and i can't believe it. but here's a new dose of drama for you, this one is a roller-coaster of emotions!! hope you like it🤍

ps. what are your thoughts on the new f1 season? i was so excited about it, but it feels like it's gonna be pretty easy for max to win the title once again!

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gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.

yourusername

liked by joliedebelle, charles_leclerc and 98.753 others

yourusername sweet home🤍

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charles_leclerc valentin made it to the apartment!

yourusername i'd never leave him behind he's my kid🧸💔

joliedebelle that damn 6 year-old teddy bear has traveled more than i have

yourusername as he deserves!!

username 6 years old... charles knows its name... and it's called valentin, the french way of saying valentine... the math is mathing guys

username my divorced parents 💔

username @/maxverstappen1 stay strong bestie

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a hint of bleach could still be smelled on the air. you had been cleaning all day, as if wiping every surface of the apartment would remove the traces of the infidelity you had committed. the pictures of last night kept replaying on your mind like a broken record and you could feel the guilt building up every single time max crossed your mind.

last night you had stopped charles before things got out of hand, grabbing his hands when his fingers were unbuttoning your blouse. as much as you wanted him, max did not deserve this. and whilst the memories of the kisses you shared could not be erased, you were glad you did not let it go any further.

charles could not stop thinking about you. from the second he had left your apartment, he was sure that you were going to overthinking about every single thing that happened, blaming yourself over a thing you could not control. he was worried. he did not care about if max was going to be mad at him, but he cared about you, knowing how the guiltiness was going to haunt every single corner of your mind.

"how do you feel?". you heard charles' tender voice through your phone.

"like shit". you answered as you sat on the beige sofa. "i feel guilty as hell, charles".

"i'm sorry".

"i'm sorry too". you said. "things shouldn't have happened like that. max doesn't deserve this and neither do you. fuck, charles, i am dating max, you said you're gonna give léa a second chance. this is messed up".

"i know. i wish things were different". you heard him as he let out a sigh. "when is he coming back to monaco?".

"this afternoon". you replied. "and i don't know what to do. i left abu dhabi earlier because i wanted to figure out what i wanted and now i am more confused than i was before... i cheated on him, charles. i feel like i broke all of my moral rules".

"i'm sorry". he repeated. "are you going to tell him?".

"i should". you answered. "he's gonna hate me for it, isn't he?".

"y/n...".

"charles, i don't know how to do this without hurting you or max".

"don't worry about me". you heard him say. "i knew what i was getting into".

"still, you know that i care about you and that's not going to change".

"y/n". charles started. "i don't know how to be objective in this situation, but i do know i want you to do what's best for you. when i say don't worry about me i mean it. if you want to keep trying with max, i'll accept it without saying a word. if you need me by your side, i'll drop everything and come over... i just want you to know you can count on me, you can call me if you're sad, call me if you're mad, call me to complain about max, even call me to tell me everything i've done wrong if it makes you feel better. and i don't care if it's selfish what i am about to say, but i don't give two fucks about max. i care about you and i want you to be happy, even if that means that i have to watch you be with somebody else. i'll take it as long you're the happiest you've ever been".

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maxverstappen1

liked by redbullracing, hondaracingglobal and 815.750 others

maxverstappen1 and that's a wrap!🏆after celebrating this extraordinary season with our incredible team, it's time to head back home 🙌

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username legend!!

username and no sign of y/n...

username i don't want to jinx it but what if he finally realized she doesn't care about him

username it's just been a few days since we saw them together...

username maybe she isn't here because she has a life, you should try it too!!

gossipgirl welcome back to monaco!

username now... what do you know?

username spill the tea!!!

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max had arrived earlier than you expected. you had just applied you perfume the moment he rang the bell, leaving a rose scent throughout your whole apartment. the deep gut-wrenching sensation you had been feeling for the past twenty-four hours intensified now you knew it was time to face the consequences of an infidelity. with trembling hands and after taking a deep breath, you opened the door. max gave you a soft smile the moment he saw your face, to which to tried to reply with another half smile.

"hey". he was the first one to speak. "i brought some red wine".

"come in".

max was nervous, you could sense it. his face expressions were not as soft as you remembered them. after you grabbed the bottle of wine, he removed his jacket, asking you where should he hang it. you showed him around your apartment since it was the first time he was here, explaining briefly how the house move was going.

"what do you want to eat? you can eat everything you like now, right?". you asked him and he nodded. "i was thinking of... maybe carbonara? i nail it every single time".

"actually". he said. "i think we should talk about what happened. i don't want to delay this anymore".

"okay". you agreed.

max was leaned against the kitchen, placing his hands on it before letting out a sigh. you stood in front of him, starring into his blue eyes, that now looked a bit lost. you tried to swallow the lump in your throat as you tried to find the perfect words to say, but max was faster to speak.

"i am sorry". max started. "i never should've reacted the way i did and i said things to intentionally hurt you. i should've handled it differently".

"max, it's okay". you managed to say. "the moment it happened i knew we were on the edge, we had way too much to drink and we could not think properly. but the main issue here it's not this argument and we both know it".

"right-".

"i think you know me better than i do". you interrupted him and he tilted his head.

"what do you mean?".

"you were right about how i feel about charles". you answered with a trembling voice. "i have spent these past months trying to ignore it, pretending i am over a relationship that never really died and the truth is i can't do this anymore. i love you, i really do, and i'm not going to hide it just because i have never heard those three words from you, but i don't think i should be in a relationship when i still feel things for charles. i think you deserve to know the truth. you have been the best partner i could've asked for and i know you don't deserve this and i never meant for this to happen-".

"did you cheat on me?". he interrupted you, guessing where the conversation was going.

"we kissed yesterday".

"great". he said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "fucking great".

"i am sorry, max".

"of course you are". he spat as he moved to stand closer to you. "it took you one argument to run back to his arms? you're telling me that you left abu dhabi because we had one stupid fight over him and you were mad because i told you i was jealous and the moment you land in monaco you fucking cheat on me with him? are you serious?".

"i am sorry". you repeated as you felt your eyes watering. he threw his hands in the air as he shook his head.

"this is ridiculous. i have been feeling like shit for three days, overanalyzing every single word i said wondering how to fix things while you were making out with your ex?".

"it isn't this simple, max".

"but it is, y/n!". he interrupted you. "these past months you have been fooling me, making me think there was something special going on between us, while you were thinking of charles the whole time".

"that's not true, max".

"and what's the truth then, y/n?!". he shouted and you felt the first teardrops fall from your eyes. "i have had enough of this shit, i'm glad it's over".

max walked away and you stood in the kitchen, frozen in place, watching him as he loudly slammed the front door of your apartment. you let your body fall to the floor as you let out a sob. as cruel as his words were, there was veracity in them. it was over and it had been your fault. the sadness filled your chest with a deep, heavy feeling that left your lungs with barely no air. you kept thinking about how max would have been the perfect partner, but you had to mess it up.

the guiltiness had kept you awake all night and, even though you were exhausted, your mind could not find peace. for a whole day, you ignored every single message and hanged up every single call. you stayed in bed, letting your thoughts consume you, wondering how different things would have been if you had pushed charles away.

the ringtone of your phone once again filled your silent bedroom. your sister's name popped up one, two and three times in a row on the screen. you decided to pick up the fourth time, just to reassure your sister that everything was fine.

"jolie, i am okay". you said. "please stop-".

"you need to see what gossip girl just posted".

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