#THIS IS NOT THE ENDING THERE IS STILL AN EPILOGUE AND I SWEAR IT'S HAPPY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blublublujk · 6 months

Text

i just fucked your girl (and she loved it)

oneshot

word count: 11k

genre: established relationship (reader x namjoon), dark/morally gray characters and decisions

pairings: ghost hoseok x y/n and y/n x fiancé namjoon

summary:

A very lonely, horny ghost comes to haunt your dreams (and fulfills your every sexual desire).

warnings: oh my god get ready this is gonna get long. swearing, cheating?? (is it really cheating if he's dead? i'll let you decide), explicit sexual content; sexual "nightmares", unprotected vaginal sex AND anal (ITS TIME :D), rough sex, sub/dom dynamics, no safe word, submission, dirty talk, hoseok refers to people he comes across as victims (he doesn't force anyone i promise, not unless they want to ofc), masturbation, fingering, petplay? (the reader likes being called kitten), slight hand kink, slut shaming (oopsies), use of spit (oops again), use of lube, hickeys, lots of begging, hoseok's a bit mean but the ending will make it up a bit ISTG, namjoon's an innocent sweetheart, reader feels a lot of guilt, ass play (YAY), rimming (YAY pt2), mentions to gay sex and clown kink (you'll see), hoseok's like a ghost sex worker and the reader sorta manifests him, sex toys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, come shot, blowjob, hair pulling, daddy kink, breast play, creampie, a bit of a sad/angsty ending, so sorry if anything is missing I RLLY TRIED

btw there's sex scenes between namjoon and the reader AND hoseok and the reader so they both get their share.

a.n: happy fucking halloween. sorry this got a little sad towards the end, but i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i think i'll live in this world for a while. i'm so obsessed with this probably, my favorite work yet. i think this is my smuttiest work too? idk. i was gonna delete like half of it because i hate myself sometimes but i figured you guys would enjoy something a little longer so i typed and typed until my lil heart desired and this beast was created. btw i finished this at exactly 6:13pm. i thought i'd let yall know, if anyone's as crazy as me :D im so curious what you guys think about this one so feel free to comment (only if you want too ofc ^.^) idk when i'll be back with something new but please be patient with me. i promise im not leaving lol i just get busy. OKIE THIS IS SO LONG SORRY AND ENJOY. byeee <3

p.s. i do plan to write an epilogue cuz this got crazy at the end. so much left unsaid. my brain is sooo... lol

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

It was the same damn nightmare.

For the past three weeks you had been waking up in coldsweat, heart nearly beating out of your chest, breathing so out of control. You could barely hold yourself up.

And still somehow, you woke up drenching your panties of your own slick arousal.

It was the same nightmare from yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that. You would end up in a dark, ominous apartment. It was yours, but somehow different. The apartment was pitch black, flashing red lights from time-to-time, as if someone in the building had pulled the emergency alarm. You would crumble in your bed, closing your eyes and praying it would end soon. That’s when he would appear.

A man in all black, long dark tousled hair. His teeth were bright, you could tell by the smile on his face while he watched you wither away in your sheets. The glow in his dull, sharp eyes would shine even in the dark.

He watched as you squirmed in your bed, feeling heavy, unable to stand by your own strength.

“Don’t force it, darling. Take what you need.” The stranger would say with a strong raspy tone, smelling your arousal fall into the sheets below your bottom. You were always bare in your nightmares as if you were waiting and submitting for him.

You couldn’t resist the feeling. At his call, your fingers would come to relieve the ache between your thighs. Playing with yourself as if you were alone, but it was far from the truth. He would watch as you pumped yourself two fingers deep, sighing and whimpering, satisfied that you no longer felt empty.

Sometimes, well no most times, he would join you in your nightmares. He would tear your hands from your leaking cunt sparing mercy and you would complain against your sheets. The stranger wasn’t that bad, not for long at least, because he would fill you with his own two fingers, his eyes would dilate watching you fall apart. He was smooth and precise, he would curve his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on target, loving the sinful sounds you made as you arched your back and yelled moans without holding back.

Once he was satisfied and right as you were about to explode, he would pull away, whipping his hard, swollen cock out of his pants and tugs on himself, forcing you to watch as he pleased himself . Of course you wanted it, but this was so wrong, very wrong.

The worst part is he wouldn’t just give it to you, he would make you beg for it. “Talk to me baby, you want it?”

You would shake your head, denying him and trying to pull yourself from under him, but realistically it is all you wanted. You wanted to taste the beads that fell from the slit of his hard cock. He was fucking big and that itself made you go fucking insane, his hands wrapped around his length nicely. You tried to stop your thoughts from going any further, but your imagination was a powerful thing, thinking about how his pretty hands would feel wrapped around your throat instead of his dick.

“Oh, you don’t? Maybe I’ll just leave you like this then.” He would say and it fucked with your head.

That was the last thing you wanted. “But– m’ so empty.”

“Then beg for it slut, you don’t have to be empty and lonely for long.” His tongue was smooth and wet against your skin as he licked down your throat, sucking little marks onto your skin. He had you wrapped around his fucking fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You wanted to move but at the same time, you wanted him to have his way with you. God can forgive you for this later.

“I c-can’t.”

“What a shame. I’ll just take care of myself and leave you here to watch.” He would start pumping his cock faster, tugging at the crown of his length.

You made an agonizing sound of complaint. “Please.”

“Please what little kitten?”

He was mean. So mean.

And you were fucking stupid.

“Please, f-fuck me.” You begged so sweetly.

The man would smile sinisterly before shoving himself deep inside you, forcing a scream of pleasure. He was not gentle in any way and you fucking liked that. As sick as it was.

He fucked you like his only mission was to make you come and drive you insane, pushing your legs far apart and brutally fucking deep into your walls.

He would watch you fall into your sheets, murmuring noncoherent words, completely submitting to the stranger you fell apart in his complete mercy.

What an honor.

“That's it baby. Squirt all over my dick.” His voice was always deep and you swore you could hear a smirk between his words.

Like magic his words would rip intense orgasms out of you and he would fuck you through them all until you eventually collapsed unconscious.

You wake up in a gasp, the wet feeling between your legs nearly makes you gag.

This can’t be. Not again.

“Baby, wake up.” A voice calls gently, soft hands soothe your back, patting and rubbing gently. “It’s just a nightmare, love. I’m here.”

“Joonie?”

“Yes baby. I’m here, go back to bed. I’ve got you.” His calm voice manages to settle the beating drum of your heart and still, this is the exact problem with these recurring nightmares.

Even as your fiancé rubs circles into your back, all you can think of is the hands of that strange man that would fuck you into a delrious state. You hated it. It felt too close to cheating.

If only Namjoon saw what your nightmares truly consisted of, he would be horrified and disgusted. Every night was worse, the guilt slowly started building in the pit of your stomach as you would daydream about the nightmare over and over and over.

…

“You okay baby?” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, aware that your mind was somewhere else during dinner.

“I- yes.” But you weren’t okay. Not one bit. Flashbacks of the man in your nightmares would haunt your thoughts. These nightmares would play in your head like old memories.

His hooded eyes watching as you fucked yourself open. He would whisper things like, ‘that’s it kitten, so fucking wet all for me’ and ‘good kitten, nice and tight for me’.

“Imagine what your fiancé would do if he saw the way you squirm in my hands. He could never fuck you the way I could, kitten. Isn't that right? Only I fuck you exactly the way you like it. My little submissive kitten.”

“Please.” Begging is all you could muster to do in your dreams. You felt pathetic. You never wanted someone so bad. The guilt only grew stronger when you realized you were fucking addicted to your own dreams. You started chasing these nightmares.

What was wrong with you?

“Baby?” Namjoon called your attention once again, smiling apologetically. “You feeling okay? Your face is quite flushed.”

Your hands fall onto your face feeling the slight burn against your palms. “Sorry. I’m okay, just a little hot in here is all.”

“It’s the end of October baby. It’s been really cold out. I’m surprised you aren't begging me to warm you up by now.” He tries to carry the conversation into a lighter, more casual matter.

A nervous smile breaks out onto your lips, as you brush a piece of hair out of your face. “Must just be experiencing hot flashes. It happens when I’m a bit more stressed than usual.”

“Anything you wanna talk about? You know you can talk to me.” He’s sweet and present for you as usual. You feel your heart drop thkining about how this is what you are missing out on by feeding into those stupid fucking nightmares. Something had to change.

Wake up, Y/N.

“Yeah, I know babe. It’s nothing to worry about. Just work stuff.” You make an excuse for yourself and it seems to work, for now.

“Mm, okay. Don’t be afraid to come to me for anything. I don’t want you suffering alone.” Your fiancé places a hand on top of yours, squeezing it softly.

“Thank you, Joonie.” This time you give him a real smile, but the guilt still stays hidden deep inside you watching as he reciprocates the smile back at you.

“There’s my beautiful bride-to-be. Stop worrying so much baby. Maybe you should take some time off from work. You know sleep usually makes you feel better. It always has. My sleepy girl.”

And there it goes and hits you all at once again.

Guilt. So much guilt. Sleep doesn’t even feel enough these days. The nightmares make you feel as if you never rest. You are clearly aware that dreams aren’t real life, but you even wake up sore from them. It’s scary how realistic it all feels. Maybe that’s why this makes it worse for you. Everything feels too real.

“Yeah… I’ll think about it.” But you won't because time off means resting and resting means more sleep and more time for these nightmares to keep haunting you. It’s like you will never win.

“Eat your dinner baby, it's getting cold.”

—-

The daydreams continue even at work.

“Let me see that perfect ass, kitten. Turn around for me.”

It’s like he completely owns you, hypnotized by his voice. You immediately present for him, face down and ass up sitting so nicely.

“Fuck kitten, look at you. Tell me, does that lame fiancé of yours ever play with this ass?”

You whimper a ‘no’ feeling a glob of spit drip into your unused, virgin hole. His thumb caressing the wet ring of muscle, watching you clench around nothing.

“I’ll change that soon, kitten. Just how you like it.”

Namjoon wasn’t necessarily opposed to butt stuff, the one time you mentioned it he briefly dismissed it. Granted, he was busy at the time with some work, and you were too embarrassed to bring it up again.

It seems you got lucky nonetheless.

The man blows hot air into your wet hole, his lips felt soft against your ass. He would leave a kiss here and there before his tongue peaked out and circled around your rim.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You weren’t the most vocal sexual partner yet somehow, under his touch, you were the loudest.

Moans fell dangerously loud from your lips as he would continue to fuck his tongue deep inside your ass. Stopping every few seconds to stare at your puffy rim, gaping around nothing. Fuck, what a sight for sore eyes you were.

“Please.”

“What baby?” His palm was heavy against your ass, watching it bounce back.

“More.” You would beg.

“Anything.” He would purr back.

A thumb circled around the velvety muscle before pushing right in, fucking his thumb alongside spit that dripped from his mouth.

Yes. Just how you like it.

“Y/N?” Your coworker brushes a hand against your shoulder. “You doing okay?”

“Shit– yeah, my bad Yoona. I’ve just been feeling a bit sick lately, I think I’m coming down with a cold.” Which is a complete lie, but how do you tell your coworker you’re having wet daydreams about another man (who by the way only exists in your imagination) that isn’t your fiancé and that it is taking over every part of your life and that the guilt of it all sits heavy on your chest as days pass by and there is nothing you can do about it, but indulge in these dreams and practically live in them because you’ve become an addict.

Yoona breathes out a light hum. “You don’t seem sick.”

Fuck.

“Yeah… well it’s just starting, my throat feels dry and sore these days.”

“Maybe you should take a day off?” She suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.” You agree just so she gets off your back.

“You’ve been working a lot these days anyways. I’m sure Mr. Gyun wouldn’t mind if you called off. You’re one of his favorites anyways.” She laughs and you fake a smile.

“Yeah, right. I’ll think about it. Let's just focus on work. We need this revised and sent off by Monday.”

“Sure sure. But I’m being serious, take a day off or two, you look like you need it. You seem… tired?” She says, worrying by the sound of her tone.

Because you know she will never let this go, you reassure her. “Yoona, I love you to death, but don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll take some time off if it gets worse. Thank you, really.”

“Alright, just looking after you Y/N. Your soon-to-be husband would kill me if I didn't.”

“I’ll tell him you’re doing a great job, now back to the transcripts…”

—-

You knew the night would eventually come.

There was only so much you could ignore and forget.

A sudden rush of heat wakes you from one of your nightmares, the jolt in your body scaring Namjoon awake beside you. You knew that he meant no trouble, but he gave you the face of ‘this again?’ and you could no longer push it aside.

“Baby?” Namjoon’s voice is tired and filled with sleep, but he asks anyways while patting your back gently, as he always does when this happens like the sweet fiancé he is. “What happens in these dreams anyways?”

How do you tell your husband-to-be and boyfriend of seven years that you get completely ruined by another man in your sleep?

Namjoon was far too sweet and innocent to get mad at you for this and you knew that. Yet the guilt never stopped you from feeling terribly about the situation.

“You won’t be upset with me?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

Namjoon stands to turn on the nightlight by the bed before he lays back and wraps his strong arms around your waist. “Baby, look at me.”

With heavy eyes, you look back at your fiancé.

His palm cradles your soft cheek, pushing a loose hair behind your ear. “I could never be upset with you, my love. It might help to talk your nightmares through. I’ll be right here with you baby.”

With shaking hands, you take a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know where they come from, but there’s this man in my dreams.”

Namjoon raises a brow, doing his absolute best to understand you even while the clock reads in bold 3:44am.

“This man, he’s dressed in all black. He— he has these dark eyes.”

“Dark eyes?”

“Yeah, he— his eyes are dark, sharp all around, it’s sinister.”

“Okay. What happens?” He whispers, pulling you even closer into him, your hand falls into his chest for comfort.

“He— he…” You struggle finding the right words.

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Baby, d-does he hurt you?”

No. Of course not. In fact, he does the opposite. The man pleases you until you can’t give him anymore and he leaves you with sore limbs and the burning stretch between your legs as a reminder of what he’s done to you and what he’s capable of.

You quickly shake your head. “No but he- he touches me and does things to me.”

“Oh honey, why would I be mad at you about that? That’s completely unacceptable. Nobody should be touching you or doing things to you if you don't want it. I see now why this bothers—”

“Joonie, I feel,” you start and swallow the awful feeling in your throat, “ I feel like… if I've been cheating on you.”

“Baby, I know you would never. They’re just nightmares after all. It’s not like you enjoy it baby.” This is what you mean by Namjoon’s too innocent and kind-hearted to see past the lines between your words.

“But- I.”

“Wait… do you? Do you enjoy them?” Namjoon almost looks hurt to ask the question, but he’s quick to reassure you. “It’s okay baby, if you do.”

“I do.” You whisper like it’s some dirty secret.

There’s a pregnant pause before Namjoon pulls you completely flush against his body, rubbing circles behind your back. “It’s okay baby, it's okay. They’re just nightmares. They mean nothing.”

He kisses your hair for comfort and you let out a sob because they are much more than that to you and you know it. They are all you can think about. Shit, you think if you were given the chance, you would actually let that man have his way with you in real life. And it makes you feel disgusting because you know you enjoy this dynamic way too much.

At first, it was terrifying, you didn’t know the man and he, well he just became a weakness and you wanted him so bad, as much as you hated to admit it. Your imagination was a powerful tool. Why you and why with him? Why couldn’t your dreams be with Namjoon, your high school sweetheart?

“I’m so sorry, Joonie. For all these long nights. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The nightmares don’t stop, in fact they only feel longer and they get worse.” You cry into his chest.

“I know honey, it’s not your fault. Just think of me whenever you feel this way, okay?” He pulls back, wiping your tears off with his sleeves. Your fiancé was so fucking sweet and that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. He was never angry at you or disappointed. Namjoon was always patient with you and a complete sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking stupid.

“And I’m not mad at you, okay? I never will be. Those nightmares mean nothing to me. I love you Y/N.” Your fiancé whispers into your hair, kissing the side of your face.

Namjoon has always been way better than you because had you been in his shoes, you couldn’t phantom hearing about him enjoying the presence of another woman. He knew only one part of this story. Namjoon doesn’t know that you spend evenings, the time you have the house alone while he’s off at work, fucking yourself to this strange man’s voice in your head. That you open yourself up just how you do in your nightmares and you swear you hear his voice telling you to keep going. You swear you hear him calling your name asking you about how Namjoon would feel about this. Like if his whole purpose is to make you feel worse about the situation. He’s ruining your life and you’re letting him. You think you’ve given up and it’s just started.

“I- I love you too.” You reply.

Namjoon smiles apologetically, hands gentle against your skin. “Let’s sleep?”

You nod and he pulls you against his hard chest, rubbing your back while he attempts to lull you back to sleep. It eventually comes, but not before you wake to those dark eyes again and the nightmare continues. This time you don't even fight it. He fucks you until you feel yourself collapse and you swear nothing has ever felt better.

…

The next morning Namjoon gently shakes you awake. “Good morning my love, you slept through your alarm. I figured you could take a day off so I called your boss to let him know you couldn’t come in today. I hope you don't mind.”

“Joonie?” Your voice is the cutest in the mornings (according to Namjoon), he smiles watching you struggle to wake up.

“Yes, my baby. I’m just getting ready to leave for work, but I wanted to say goodbye before I leave.”

Well, it’s not like you have a choice so you accept your fate. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, honey. You slept quite well. You didn’t even wake up this time! Did it help? Talking through it?” Again, Namjoon could be so clueless.

The only reason you slept this well is because you were fucked into oblivion in your dream. As unbelievable as it may sound, you even felt sore down there. But he doesn’t have to know that, so he’ll just go off to work thinking that cuddles and his sweet words drifting you back to sleep actually worked.

“Yeah… yeah it did. Thank you again. Have a nice day at work.” You say, still warmly tucked in bed.

“I will, baby. ” He drops a peck into your cheek, smelling the fresh scent of his aftershave. “Call me if anything. See you later, my love.”

And like that you are left alone once again. The only thing that remains is the fluffy feeling of his plump lips buzzing against your cheek, a faint reminder that you are loved and have been for years, while you think about another man, one that only exists in your deepest darkest of dreams.

—-

Hoseok doesn’t remember how it happened. All he knew is he was standing in a place unknown, sensing there was another being in the room with him.

It's not his first time around a mortal human. No, in fact he had so much experience with lustful humans with all kinds of desires and wishes, but it has been quite long since he was manifested this strongly into someone’s dreams.

His favorite part was watching them act as if they didn’t ask for it. Call for him. They would lie and say that they could never fuck a dead being. A ghost at that. As if they didn’t manifest him themselves.

It's not like it was Hoseok’s fault for dying young and handsome and that now he tends to people’s guiltiest pleasures. It's not like he has anything better to do in the after-life. In reality, he’s doing people a grand fucking favor. The best thing about fucking a dead ghost is there’s absolutely no consequences, at least that’s what he always tells his victims. Unless you get addicted to one, then that’s really a personal problem. They can’t stay on mortal land forever, but for the time being Hoseok has become attached to his time here. Especially with his new little mortal toy.

When he first heard the calling, he almost missed it. He was fucking another mortal, a man in his mid-twenties to be exact. The man had called for him in his dreams and he attended to his duty with pleasure.

This man had a thing for clowns and Hoseok wasn’t no fucking clown, but he did his best to please him. His outfit was in all black (of course, it was his favorite color) and fit him quite well though it was different from his usual style, even down to the clown hat and all.

The guy would scream under Hoseok as he would pound into him like some fuck-doll and would have him come undone within minutes. He was so fucking easy to please. They always are.

When Hoseok came to you the first night. That’s how you found him. He still had the same outfit on (he was ripped from the last dream) and his hat had nearly fallen off in the process, but he was pleased when he came across his next victim. You were beautiful.

“Who— who are you?” You screeched, covering yourself up, cheeks flushed. You had been doing unspeakable things to yourself in the dream. “What are you doing in my room?!”

Hoseok smiles. God, they always are the same. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to and don’t mind me, keep doing what you were doing before I had rudely interrupted.”

The stranger goes to sit by the vanity in your room, making himself extremely comfortable as if it is a regular Tuesday night for him.

You try to stand and it's like something washes over you. The strange force pushes you back down and you have no choice but to take it.

The man chuckles, throwing his hat aside. “Don’t hurt yourself trying. Just let your instincts guide you. Tell me what it is you want, this will all go much smoother and much faster.”

The stranger in black winks and you feel disgusted (though your pussy doesn’t seem to agree with you).

Still you manage to say, “I want you to get out of my fucking room. I’m about to get married, you know and he’ll fucking kill you.”

“Ohhh.” He purrs, standing as he walks across the room. He stops a couple steps from your bed and leans down to match your height. “But you asked for me to come, baby. So guess what? Now I am your problem.”

He pinches your nose, wrinkling his own in the process and flashes a charming smile.

You swat his hand off you almost immediately. “I— I didn’t ask for anything. I don’t even know you and I don’t want to know you.”

“Mm, but soon we’ll know each other very well. Let’s not fight this.” The man’s voice is silky and you could practically see the sinful desire in his eyes while they take in your naked figure.

You have no idea what he even means by that, but right now you could care less. This is just a nightmare and soon enough, he will disappear and you will get to go back to doing what you were doing before he ever existed.

“Leave me alone please.”

The guy puts his hands up clearly coming and going in peace, while retreating back a few steps. “Whatever you say princess. I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

And just like that the man disappeared into a black distorted shadow.

He shows up only three nights later.

This time he catches you on your knees, riding a dildo on your bed. You don’t even hear him until he’s in front of you. Your hips stop mid roll. Whimpering as you feel the tug on your hair.

“Seems you’re ready.” He rasps, having a strong grip on your hair forcing you to look up at him.

“I— who the fuck are you? Seriously? What do you want with me? I know I’m dreaming and I can wake up any secomd so what the fuck do you want with me.” This time you don’t even entertain him. It’s clear this man has his own vulgar intentions, you wanna skip the small talk. He doesn’t seem like the type to give up until he gets exactly what he wants.

“The better question is what do you want with me. You manifested me after all, darling.”

Your eye twitches at the pet name, but you ignore it, for now. “But— I don't know you. How is that fucking possible?”

Even though he knows you won't understand it completely, he still answers truthfully. “I’m dead baby. Anything is possible.”

Great, so you’re just supposed to believe this man is some ghost haunting you in your dreams. Perfect!

This time you don’t ignore his stupid use of pet names. “S-Stop calling me that.”

“Oh?” The man pouts, and to be honest that does something to you. If the situation was different maybe you would admit he looks fucking sexy, even if he’s a menace.

His brows furrow, his jawline clenching as he speaks. “Is there another pet name you like? We’re already getting farther than last time, princess.”

You don’t even attempt to hold back the scoff, your eyes roll back. “No. I don’t— I didn't ask for you and I don’t want you bothering me anymore. Just please leave me alone. Please.”

The man groans, looking down at you with hooded eyes, the fist in your hair grips harder reminding you that he still had you under his control. “God, but you sound perfect begging. Are you sure of that, kitten?”

The man's voice drops in a sultry tone, nearling purring while he speaks. And somehow, that manages to slip a whine from your throat, nearly drooling at the sight.

Your eyes immediately widen. “I— I didn't mean that.”

“Oh, so that’s what you like.” The man smiles, petting your head affectionately. You were fucked. “Of course you didn't. You were so close weren't you, kitten?”

You shake your head, you’re unable to look away, but at the same time you want to throw his hands off you. You felt completely powerless under his gaze and you were liking it a lot more than you would like to admit.

“Don’t bother lying to me princess, I can smell it. You were so fucking close.” He whines the last part, biting his bottom lip, he seems to breathe in the scent. “So fucking close. I’m sorry. I always join at the worst times, you can continue.”

He offers like a fucking weirdo, pervert and still you disgustingly want it.

“I said, don't call me that!” Your hand flies to his and forces it off you.

“Then talk to me.” He’s rough, but firm with his tone.

“No. I don’t- can't and I won't. Go bother someone else.”

“I can’t. You asked for me and you brought me here. Now you have to deal with this.” He doesn't attempt to put his hands back on you, but he does let his gaze wander seeing as you still haven’t moved from your dildo.

“This is bullshit. It’s just in my head anyways. If I close my eyes it’s like you aren’t even here. Now let me fucking come in peace.” Your eyes closed in the middle of your rant and he seemed to listen. Hoseok backs off, watching you from your wall to be exact, but he lets you take care of yourself. That’s what he’s there for after all.

After a few seconds of calming yourself down and regaining your arousal, you slowly lift yourself up feeling the dildo pull against your walls and you drop yourself back down.

Hoseok was right, you weren’t too far away from coming, but he messed up your pace and now you have to work yourself back up.

It doesn’t take too long before you set a quick pace, fucking yourself onto the silicone length.

Truly it wasn’t that you and Namjoon’s sex life was bad, in fact he was the best fuck of your life (not that you had much experience given he was your high school sweetheart) but after years of being together, things had changed, a lot.

You don’t even remember the last time you guys got creative in bed, besides a few vibrators from time-to-time. It was starting to get boring and you didn't want to admit this to him, but you wanted so much more. It's like your body was begging for it. And you didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying it, so instead you kept it to yourself and the sexual frustration built up overtime making it impossible not to think about constantly.

You gasp when you finally open your eyes to find the man watching you with heavy lidded eyes from your wall, he’s not even touching himself, but you can see he’s hard in his pants.

He licks his lips as he watches you jump down on the dildo ferociously. Your eyes make contact and that's when everything seems to explode.

Moans start slipping from your lips and you feel the knot in your stomach start to build quickly. The silicone molds around your walls perfectly, feeling the tip brush against your sweet spot repeatedly, fisting the sheets below you.

Hoseok’s nose seems to flare and he can practically taste your arousal in the air. He watches as you bounce on that useless dildo, wishing it was his cock instead. Your mouth falls open, drool nearly spilling while you feel the knot coming undone.

It isn’t long before Hoseok finally decides to speak and it does wonders. “Come, you fucking slut.”

Fuck.

On call, you come and he’s forced to watch you moan and writhe against your sheets, feeling the dildo slowly push out of you.

He pushes himself off the wall and comes towards you and you feel too exhausted to push him away. You are laying in the middle of your bed now, dildo still between your legs but it’s fallen out.

You feel as he pushes the dildo back inside you overstimulating your used hole as he fucks it into you deeply. You really, really shouldn't let this happen. You are going to be a married woman soon for fuck’s sake, but it all feels so fucking good- risky yet new, so you can’t help but to feed into temptation.

Sadly, your body denies it, for now at least. “N-No I can't. Not anymore.”

His action comes to a halt. “I know. Maybe next time, kitty.”

And he disappears once again.

Disappointment and guilt builds all too quickly.

Disappointed that he didn’t stay and fuck you until you passed out. And guilt that you just came in the eyes of another man and on his call.

—-

As expected, you spend your whole day off thinking about the stranger. The way he looks at you, the way he bites his bottom lip while taking you in. The way he grips your hair and clenches his sharp, symmetrical jawline when he has you falling apart in his hands. You could feel his touch, it’s impossible you know, but it all feels too real and it all happens so fast.

He had a name now. He told you in one of your dreams while he was taking you from behind.

“Say my name kitten. Who’s fucking you this good? Fuck, what a sight from behind. You’re just perfect all around, aren’t you?” Hoseok’s hands grip onto your ass cheeks, fucking into your pussy brutally. He hasn’t stopped pounding into you and it’s already been ten minutes. Maybe more? Maybe less? You stopped counting. Good dick leaves you feeling stupid.

“H-Hoseok.” You whimper into your pillow, you think you have officially lost your fucking mind.

“What?” You swear you can hear the smirk on his lips.

“Hoseok.” You’re louder this time, but your voice is muffled, face falling into your pillow.

“Louder slut!” There’s a sting on your ass and he has a fistful of your hair, lifting your face from up the pillow while he continues to ram into you from behind. You realize you are so fucking close and he knows it too, you try to meet his strong thrusts, but it’s no use because it knocks the air from under you. He manages to hold you up with a strong grip. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so tight around me, kitty. You gonna come on my dick now like a good slut? Huh?”

“Yes!” This time your voice is loud and you scream without holding back. “Hoseok! Hoseok! Oh, nghh… fuck, Hoseok!”

His name falls from your lips over and over while you come on his cock, just like he asked of you. That satisfies him enough and he squirts his own orgasm all over your plump ass, watching you come down from your own afterglow.

You had come to the fucked conclusion that the only way to possibly fucking fix something like this (as sick as it may sound) is to fuck it away. You had to tell Namjoon, maybe experiment a bit more just so you can finally get this man out of your head. Regain your peace of mind. Namjoon would do anything you’d ask of him, you could assure that. You just had to find a way to tell him so he wouldn’t feel it was his fault or as if he was lacking. Or you could just not tell him.

Either way you think fucking this away would help for the time being at least.

Sex is a very special and intimate practice and that’s genuinely how it always felt with Namjoon. He always took his time with you and fucked you slow and deep.

Before, you will admit that it was nice and that’s why he attracted you so much but now, you don’t want it to be nice or slow. You want someone to play rough, break your limits, and touch you in places you haven’t been touched before. You want to be tossed around, fucked until you can’t speak any coherent sentences. Was that just too much to ask for?

(Hoseok sure didn't think so.)

Right as you had finished cooking dinner, Namjoon made his way through the front door, setting his work bag down by the coat rack.

“You’re cooking?” Namjoon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Smells good.”

“Yeah, I figured you deserved a nice meal to come home to. I didn’t have much else to do.” You swiftly kiss him back.

Namjoon pulls you in closer, arms holding you tightly. He still smells as fresh as he did when he first left. “I told you to rest, my love. You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I know, I know. I really wanted to though. Let’s just eat, we'll talk after.” He nods and kisses your cheek once more.

“Let's eat then.”

…

Namjoon decides a movie night is needed on a night like tonight.

You were more clingy than usual (and of course, he loves it). So he puts on a random movie and allows you to cuddle him up to the fullest of your extent.

“You’re so cuddly today, my love.” Namjoon whispers into your hair, mid-movie.

“I just missed you is all.” And you really did, it's been long since you and Namjoon had an intimate night (maybe since these dreams started), you think it's finally time.

He smiles rubbing his hand down your arm. “I missed you too honey.”

You lift your head from his chest and lean in slowly, he immediately picks up on the drift and leans down to meet your lips.

His lips are soft against yours, kissing you with gentle movements. His palm comes to rest on your cheek while you escalate the kiss.

Your tongue comes up slowly and he lets you in quite easily. You take a hand and rake it down his chest, pulling yourself on his lap carefully.

You start to slowly whine your hips, making it all too obvious about what you need and want. Namjoon follows along without complaints.

“Do you wanna?” Namjoon asks, a bit breathless, bringing his forehead against yours.

“Yes.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

Namjoon smiles and steals one last kiss before he attempts to stand, thinking it would be best to move this to the bed, but you hold him down with a shove to his abdomen.

“No. I want it, right here.” You say, finding yourself a little breathless yourself, you needed this.

His eyes seem to widen for the moment, but he seems to agree and pulls you back in for a kiss, this time he lets his tongue push into your mouth further exploring. He tastes the sweet tang of red wine on your tongue and he groans into the kiss.

You pull back only for a second as you get rid of your shirt and he starts to unbutton his own. Once the shirts are off, you tug your bra off freeing your breast and bring your lips back together with great force.

Though he doesn’t complain, Namjoon is in shock. He hasn’t seen you this needy and desperate in years, he thinks? Or at least he doesn’t remember it like that. He lets you rut against his already hard member and kisses you with equal passion.

The next time he pulls away, he tugs on your leggings and he helps you out of them. Typically your panties come down with it, but you decide you’ll just push them aside. You return the offer by pushing his jeans down, including his briefs, his dick slaps against his stomach weighing heavy.

Your mouth instantly waters, but right now you want him inside the rest will just have to come another time.

Namjoon looks at you with so much love and admiration and for a minute, the guilt comes crashing down. You want him, you know you do so why is the guilt still there? Is it because even as you have your lover right where you want him all you can think about is how the stranger (Hoseok) from your dreams would have had you flipped onto the couch and had his way with you hours ago. Maybe he would have fucked you against the kitchen counter, defile the damn marble. Maybe he would have taken you right against your front door, like the slut you wanted to be for him. All you know for sure is he wouldn’t have let this much time pass.

You shake your stupid thoughts away and look back up at your fiancé. This is where you want to be. Where you fucking belong. Without letting your imagination run wild, you rub yourself against Namjoon’s hard length, spreading your arousal all over him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby.” He bites a moan back, feeling your warm juices, slicken his cock.

You moan against his mouth when you feel the tip latch on to your hole, slowly sinking down on him. You feel his cock stretch your warm walls and he feels he could come already. It's just been so long (can anyone really blame him).

You bring your hips up a bit before crashing back down feeling the burn on your tight heat.

“So warm and tight baby.” His hands land on your hips, toying with the band of your panties. “Come here.”

Namjoon brings you flush against his chest slowing your movement, his lips crash into yours. The kiss feels much different from before. He doesn’t hold back, as soon as your tongue clashes with his, he sucks and bites it playfully. You groan into his mouth, accidentally squeezing harder against his length.

“Fuck baby, just like that.” His dick twitches deeply against your velvety walls, you can tell he’s holding back. “I think I’ll come soon if you continue like this.”

Like hell, you’ll let him come now, you’ve barely had your fill. Without no desire to, you slowly slide off his dick, dropping knees first onto the cold floor below you.

“Baby–” Namjoon starts, but you push his hands away as he tries to pull you back up.

“Let me do this, you’ll last longer.” He hesitates, but eventually surrenders, laying his hands aside. “Don’t be scared to use your hands, use my mouth, Joonie.”

Fuck. How could his own perfect, sweet wife-to-be sound this seductive? He hasn’t heard you talk this way since college. And it’s been years since that. He thought the years of young, hot sex were over but he’s been wrong all along. His fiancée was the sexiest woman in the world, that he was sure of.

Namjoon’s hands find your hair and push you towards his glistening length. It’s already drying, shame, you thought, let’s keep it warm and wet.

Wrapping hands around it, you take his cock into your mouth, sliding your tongue across the slit, hearing a raspy moan come from Namjoon’s throat. “That’s it baby, God your mouth feels incredible.”

The tip of his cock weighs heavy against your tongue. He’s breathing heavy, while he watches you take him in further. You warm his cock with your mouth just as nicely as when you were on top of him.

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him as far as you could go, hearing his desperate grunts. Namjoon takes a grip of your hair (he’s still very gentle with it and you try not to be disappointed) and pushes you just a bit further, feeling your throat stretch around him. “F-Fuck baby. I really won’t last.”

You tap his thigh and he immediately lets go when he sees your eyes water. You pull off with a pop to catch your breath. “I know.”

Your voice is raspy and it’s the sexiest thing Namjoon has ever heard. And you know exactly how to make this whole situation better. Sometimes, a little whiny purr in your voice is all that’s needed to get exactly what you need. “I just want you to come down my throat. Please, fuck my throat daddy.”

Now if Namjoon wasn’t sure he could bust before, he could definitely nut in your fist right in that instant. Yes, he has a daddy kink, sue him.

“Come here.” Namjoon demands, doesn’t hesitate this time to tug you up a little harder and place you in his lap, before he shoves your back against the couch.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, but the answer is pretty obvious when you see him line his cock up to your hole.

“Fucking you. I’m gonna come inside you. Don’t worry baby, I won’t stop fucking you until you are statisfied.” It’s like music to your ears, his hard member slaps against your clit before he slowly eases back inside you.

Both moaning at the feeling, he lets you adjust for a few seconds, but you waste no time to wrap your legs around his hips and pull him close.

“Please daddy, just fuck me.” You whine into his ear.

This time Namjoon pulls back and right before he slides out, he slams back in, balls smacking into your ass. He fucks you just like that for a while. He’s fast but skilled, finding your sweet spot quite easily. It reminds you both of older times, when things were much easier, when you were both young and easily influenced.

You moan loudly into his neck, toes curling as he fucks his dick deep inside you. “Right there daddy, please don’t stop.”

Sweat starts forming on his forehead and his hair that had once been held back by gel begins sticking to skin. It isn’t a surprise to feel him thrust harder and faster, his tongue poking at his cheek as he concentrates. “Fuck baby, I really missed fucking you just like this. You feel so tight around me, look so fucking sexy, just like this baby.”

You eat up his praise, biting your bottom lip as you feel the tight grip he has on your hips, drilling into you like he used to. Fuck, maybe you were right. This was exactly what you needed. There’s no Hoseok in your head right now. No unwanted thoughts in your mind. It’s just you and Namjoon. How it always should have been.

A whimper falls between your lips and you feel Namjoon leaving hickey’s around your tits, covering them beautifully with his own little marks.

Your legs start to shake around him, and warmth starts spreading through you quickly. “Daddy— I- I think I’m gonna fucking come.”

Namjoon grunts, mouth around your nipple while he pulls off to speak. “Yeah baby? You wanna come?”

Yes.

No.

Not really.

Preferably you would like him to control your fucking orgasm, flip you around, start pounding into you until you can’t hold yourself together but this will have to do.

“Y-Yeah. I wanna come.”

“Come sweetheart.” It’s not long before you moan sweetly through an orgasm, Namjoon fucks you through it as promised and you feel like you are levitating, he maintains sinful eye contact. His thrust starts to become sloppy and you feel the instant he lets go.

“Inside daddy, inside.” With one final strong stroke, Namjoon comes deep inside you, his breathy moans feel hot against your ear.

There’s a few minutes of heavy breathing, settling into the couch below you. Namjoon’s breaths follow close behind yours, arm tucked below your breasts, he lays behind you.

“You were so wonderful my love, I’m sorry we don’t do that enough.” Namjoon breaks the silence, kissing the side of your head.

For the twentieth time that week, guilt falls heavy onto your chest. You didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve this.

“No, don’t apologize Joonie. It’s my fault, really. I’ve just been… out of it. But I feel much better. All thanks to you. Thank you, thank you for everything you do for me and our home.” You start getting emotional, but you don't let your tone waver. You didn’t want him to know.

“You know I’d do it all for you, my love” He whispers into your hair, kissing along the soft skin behind your neck. “I can’t wait to marry you baby.”

There it is again, guilt.

“I know, I know. Me either.”

“I love you.” He doesn't hesitate to remind you sweetly.

It hurts to say it with all that is going through your mind, but you force a reply anyway. “I love you too.”

…

Sleep comes over you quickly that night.

Finally, you had fucked your sweet and loving fiancé and for once, your dreams don’t start off with you fucking yourself into an orgasm.

In fact, you don’t dream, at least you don't recall.

Hoseok immediately knows something is different when he arrives. He doesn’t smell arousal in the air, no this time he can tell you’ve been fucked. He can smell the come leftover deep inside your walls. He’s impressed to say the least.

He watches your chest rise and fall, a small pout framing on your lips. You sleep beautifully, he thinks you will look even better after he’s done with you for today.

With careful steps, he makes his way to the end of your bed, you jerk your arm so suddenly in your sleep and he holds back a laugh. He’s quiet when he sits besides your sleeping head, gentle fingers run through your hair.

“Mm.” You hum sweetly in your sleep, molding against his touch, thinking it was your husband-to-be playing with your hair like he normally does.

Before you hear him say, “someone had a good night. Isn’t that right kitten?”

Your eyes widen, nearly jumping out of bed, but Hoseok’s hands stop you from moving. “It’s just me baby.”

“H-How?” Your voice is raspy with sleep. “You were supposed to be gone.”

Hoseok smiles wide, hand still caressing the back of your head. “Did you really think that would happen, kitten?”

“Yes.”

“You let him fuck you.” He says like he knows for sure it's a fact. He doesn’t look too happy about it and your deafening silence answers his unspoken question. He pats your cheek. “Naughty kitty.”

You gulp, his pretty hand wrapping around your throat as he asks the next question. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” It’s not a lie and he knows it too.

“Yeah? He fuck you better than me?” You gulp again.

“Yes.” No.

“Why do you lie to me, kitten?” His eyes flash red (they don’t), but the look he gives you is enough to warn you. Things are about to get serious so fast. “I know everything.”

You know that saying people say about fucking around and finding out. You were about to fuck around and find out real fucking fast that Hoseok doesn’t play with his toy.

“Then what the fuck are you going to do about it, huh?” The only warning you get is Hoseok’s smile and then he’s fisting your hair tightly. Jawline clenched, watching as his eyes hood and darken.

“Fuck yourself open, you slut.” He drops the grip on your hair and stands, serious look on his face, he’s not fucking around at all tonight. His hands are quick, tugging his belt off. “Make it quick.”

When he sees you still haven’t moved, a warning comes to you by a strong fistful of hair, shoving you so closely against his face. His breath hits yours, but your lips don’t touch, even though they are so fucking close. You’re tempted to steal a kiss from those soft looking lips, but you’ve acted up enough. “I said, fuck yourself open.”

He drops his grip, letting your head fall into the mattress. Hoseok’s voice is strong and demanding so you stop fucking around and pull the sheets off your body. His eyes fall on your breasts, they are covered in hickey’s freshly made by Namjoon and he tries not to let that affect him. But damn him, he wishes it was him instead. He knows you would never sleep unsatisfied. He would always make sure you slept fucked and sated. Even if that meant, falling asleep on his cock.

There’s a slight burn when your finger finds its way to your pussy. Namjoon did a number on you, but it makes it easier to fuck yourself open. His come still settling deep inside you.

Hoseok has his shirt off now and he tugs his briefs and pants down all at once, his cock springs out, looking delicious as ever. You hear a dark chuckle behind you. “Uh-uh, wrong hole kitty, I’m fucking that ass tonight.”

You whimper when his hand comes to stop your movements.

“I’m not fucking that dirty hole. Turn around. I wanna see you from behind.” He’s not putting it up for question. You push yourself up on your knees and fall back against the bed, lifting your ass towards his direction.

He curses behind you and smacks your ass. Leaving a red hand mark behind, it almost is as pretty as your face. “Fuck kitten, you really are pretty all around. Fuck that hole open for me.”

You feel spit hit your hole and your index finger rubs his saliva around your rim. Your chest is heavy, this time for different reasons, you are completely breathless.

You can’t see Hoseok, but you hear as he opens the drawer beside your bed, it’s where you kept all your toys and lube. You are a finger-deep inside your ass when you hear the lube cap open, Hoseok is kind enough to warm the lube a bit between his fingers before he rubs against your rim and finger. He lets a bit of the lube dribble down your ass cheeks. Hoseok likes it a bit messy and wet. He clicks it close and tosses it besides you.

“My perfect submissive slut.” He whispers, hands settling on your ass as you finger yourself open with two fingers now, the burn hurts but it feels so damn good. Namjoon has never fucked your ass, but it has always been one of your sexual desires. Nothing could ever compare to an orgasm through anal and Hoseok has taught you a lot about that.

Another glob of spit hits your rim and you feel him squeeze a finger in. The burn of three fingers tear through you, moaning into the sheets. “Mm, fuck.”

He grins watching you hold back moans, biting your lips hard.

“Maybe I should punish you tonight.” He suggests, still fucking his finger in your ass alongside your own. “If you come like this I’ll let you suck my dick if I’m still feeling nice.”

You complain, turning around to face him, back still arched. “No… please, please Hoseok. F-Fuck me. Fuck my ass.”

“No.” He’s cold like usual and you know he won’t budge so it's no use.

“But I-I’ve been waiting patiently. I thought all day about you.” It almost sounds like a purr and Hoseok loves it, spanking the fat in your hips this time with an unoccupied hand. His finger is still deep inside your ass and doesn’t let down.

“Yeah? Tell me about that.” He starts to jerk himself off in the process, the leftover lube in his fingers makes the slide easier, his tongue wets his lips while he maintains eye contact.

Your cheeks are burning but you continue, “I thought about your huge cock splitting me open. Forcing me to take you e-even when I can’t anymore. I thought about you spitting into my messy hole like you always do. I thought about you fucking me open against the door. Even the kitchen counter. All day, I’ve missed you all day.”

This seems to satisfy him enough so he plays nice. “Turn over. On your back. Show me those tits.”

He pulls his finger out slowly and you miss it immediately but you listen, your own fingers slide out as you turn around for him. His knees hit the bed pulling your thighs apart as he falls between them, his arm falling beside your head. He’s still fisting his hard length, watching your tits rise and fall as you breathe.

His tongue comes out and licks around your breasts purposely avoiding your nipple. “You let him mark you.”

“He’s my husband-to-be.” You answer, holding back a moan when he sucks on your skin, gentle enough not to make any marks. “Of course, I did.”

“Mm.” He hums into your skin, it vibrates and your pussy responds to this, leaking arousal into the sheets. “What else did you let him do, kitten?”

“He fucked me.” You whisper, practically vibrating below him.

“Oh I know that. I smell it.” He looks like he wants to laugh, but instead continues sucking around your other breast, giving both tits the attention they deserve.

“Squeeze them together.” He orders and you listen quickly. His tongue slides and sucks between them, still avoiding your nipples and it drives you insane. You want to feel him.

“Please.” Your voice is weak.

“Please what?” He asks, looking up dumbfounded, but he knows exactly what you want. He’s making you work for it. “Tell me kitten. What do you want?”

“Y-Your mouth.” You struggle.

“Where?” He breathes out, right on top of your nipple, tongue nearly sliding against it.

“R-Right there.” Your eyes never move.

You watch as he sticks his long, pink tongue out and very slowly licks your already hardened nipple.

“Here?” He asks between his own breaths and you moan softly, sounding sweet against his ears.

“Yes.” You whisper-moan.

He drops his cock, letting it hit your cunt while he starts to suck on your nipples like they deserve. There’s nothing sweet and gentle about this. It’s like he wants to replace Namjoon’s love bites and leave you with his own.

He switches off onto the previous breast and his hand comes to play with your other breast while he attends to the new one. He licks and sucks harshly, bruising your tender skin. You writhe against him, pussy brushing along his cock, but his hand comes to halt your actions quickly with a strong grip on your hip.

“Be good, slut.” Is all he says before he continues marking your breasts and you can’t do a single thing, but moan and whine underneath him, feeling empty. The memory of Namjoon is long forgotten.

Once Hoseok is satisfied with his work. He grins and pulls away. He grabs the bottle of lube beside you and lathers his cock in it. “Should I fuck you now?”

You are quick to nod and you feel bubbly.

Finally.

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?” He tempts and teases, his lubed fingers touch your chin and you open with ease, taking all three fingers he offers you inside your mouth. You suck hard and watch him bite his lip.

You moan around his fingers, his other hand gripping his slicken cock and you feel it catch around your rim.

“Beg for it, slut.” He slides his fingers out, saliva drips down your chin, you probably look a mess but you don't even care anymore. The sinful desire and lust is ten times worse than any other feeling.

“Please, Hoseok. Please.” You beg. “I’d do anything. Anything.”

He sees red for two seconds and then he says. “Then keep your legs open for me. Try to stay awake. Don’t disappoint me this time, kitten.”

There’s no warning for when he plunges his hard length inside your slicked rim. You know he won’t be going anywhere near your pussy, keeping his promise. You didn’t deserve it. You let someone else use your hole and now he’s punishing you.

“Oh. My. God.” You moan, it fucking burns, but soon his thrusts turn into pleasure and his cock brushes your sweet spot. It’s like he’s known you all your life, knowing the exact way to tear you apart, piece by piece.

“Ghost actually, not God, but I’ve met him. He’s not the sweet and forgiving man everyone mentions he is.” Hoseok says this all while buried deep between your ass cheeks and you would actually laugh about this if the situation was different, but instead you moan and clench around him feeling his balls slap faster against your ass. “That’s it kitten, lose your fucking mind.”

And that is exactly what you do.

Hoseok continues ramming his hips into yours for a few minutes, you aren’t speaking clearly anymore so he doesn’t understand a word you tell him, all he knows is that you must be feeling fucking ecstasy by the way you roll your eyes and yell moans.

His hands grip your hips and he comes to a stop. “Face down. Ass up. I wanna see that ass while I pound it from behind.”

You don’t reply to him, but you seem to understand. With weak movements, you move and nearly fall face first into the bed, weak limbs. You don’t even have the strength to hold yourself together anymore. Hoseok is kind enough to help though, he places a pillow below your hips, just high enough so he can slide right back inside your tight ass.

He hears your muffled moans against your bedsheets, watching you weakly grip them.

“Such a nice ass. It’s a shame really.” Your ass bounces while he mounts you from behind, it’s fast but precise, hitting your walls just right at every harsh thrust.

“W-What is?” He barely hears you reply.

“That this ass isn’t played with enough and soon I’ll just be a fidget of your imagination. You’ll forget I ever existed and you’ll never, ever receive the sexual satifisation you deserve. But maybe, one day, when it’s your turn to go, you’ll meet me in the after-life and I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed this sweet ass.” The ghost’s voice almost sounds sad and you freeze. You don’t want this to end. No.

“T-Then don’t stop fucking me. Keep me here forever.” You whisper frantically, breath hot and heavy.

“Oh trust me baby, I would if I could. For now, I won’t stop. Stay awake, kitten.” You don’t even notice you are falling unconscious, the stretch and burn of his cock is exhausting and your ass takes him greedily, but his words wake you.

He grips the side of your hips, pressing his thumbs into your back as he sets a faster pace. Slamming and ramming his dick deep within you. The moans and gasps that slip from your mouth sound so pretty, God he really wishes it would never fucking end, but he feels you slipping between his hands already.

What the fuck can he do?

Hoseok is close himself, how could he not be? He’s been practically edging himself for hours and now that he has such a juicy ass at hand, with the most perfect woman he has ever seen, he could practically come inside your velvet walls right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse and moan below him, you tremple and shake, the knot inside your stomach is barely holding up. “‘M so close.”

He nods, forgets you can’t see him. He harshly tugs you around, still quite limp and weak between his arms. “Wanna see that face when you come on my cock.”

He plunges back inside, lips close to yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. And then you realize, he hasn’t kissed you. This entire time. He’s fucked you religiuosly for weeks on end and you don’t even know what those heart-shaped lips taste like against yours. Would they be as sweet as they look? Would he kiss you gently or would he be harsh and rough like the way he fucks? You wonder about it all at once and it makes you sad for a moment. You want a kiss. Why wouldn’t he kiss you?

“Kiss me.” You breathe out, he’s grunting above your mouth still fucking you nice and deep. You are beyond positive you won’t be able to move your ass tomorrow but it’s worth it, it’s always worth it.

He looks up and then looks back down, concentrating on his thrust, you moan but hold your ground.

“Please. Kiss me.” You whisper, gasping when you feel the knot start to come undone. He knows you’re about to let go and this only drives him to bottom out faster and quicker. Skin smacking quickly against skin. Your asshole has been shaped and molded just for him. You’re loving every second of it, but he still hasn’t kissed you.

Why?

Your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, he breathes heavy and hot against your ear now. It’s messy, sweaty and his touch is usually rough, but it feels awfully gentle now. He’s still rough inside your soft walls, but something’s changed.

“Hoseok.” You breathe, you’re so sad.

He hums against your neck, avoiding your eyes.

“Kiss me.” You plead again, he kissed your neck so softly, balls smacking harder and faster against your ass. “No, my lips.”

“Goodnight, kitten.” He whispers sounding sad into your ear before he lifts his face from your neck and those heart-shaped lips touch your softly, it’s almost sweet. You come undone as soon as you feel the touch of his magical lips and you swear you feel him come deep inside you.

It all disappears though.

“Honey?” This time it's Namjoon, hand already around your waist. “You okay? Was it another nightmare?”

A tear falls down your face and Namjoon awes, bringing you into his warm embrace. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

Why are you crying?

And where is Hoseok?

“I am too.” You simply say, crying harshly into his shoulder.

Hoseok watches the scene unfold from afar. He wishes you could feel the ache you’ve left him behind too and there isn’t a damn thing he could do but wait.

“See you in the after-life kitten. There I’ll spoil you with all the kisses you deserve.”

You don’t hear him, but he knows he means well. Hoseok walks away permanently this time, he’s lost the feeling of his heart long ago, but he feels heavy-hearted and continues on his way to his next victim.

Until next time.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #hoseok x y/n #hoseok scenarios #hoseok fic #hoseok angst #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #bts angst

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blueywrites · 1 year

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turtle dove and the crow, part one

A 1940s Farm AU, featuring bsf!neighbor!eddie x fem!reader

story tags: 18+ (minors dni). smut; true love; unexpected pregnancy; angst, angst, angst; parental issues; corporal punishment; scheming, plotting, and betrayal; hurt/comfort; period-typical stigma regarding unwed pregnancy; angst with a happy ending.

chapter tags: 18+. oral (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

PART ONE: THE HOLE IN THE LEAVES (15.1k)

And the sweat will roll down our backs

And we’ll follow animal tracks

To a tree in the woods

And a hole in the leaves we’ll see

The bright baby eyes of a chickadee

Animal Tracks — Mountain Man

“Mama!”

Your call flattens in the August heat, weighed down by thick, humid air and the drone of the cicadas chirping outside the open window over the sink. You cup your hands around your mouth to make sure she hears you; you don’t want her to accuse you of galavanting if she finds you gone. “I’m gonna take Guinnie out now!”

You drop your hands and wait for an answering call, scrambling to pick the broom up where you’d leaned it against the wallpaper as you hear the brisk shuffle-thump of her footsteps approaching the kitchen. She appears in the archway, hands on hips and eyebrow cocked.

“Y’finished sweepin’ yet?” she asks you, turning a discerning eye to the floorboards to search for any errant specs you may have missed.

“Yes, Mama,” you reply obediently, knowing better than to even think of sassing her. You know if you sass her, there’s no way you won’t end up confined to your room for the remainder of the day, less supper and having foiled your own plans before they’ve even begun. “I was just looking to take Guinevere out to the field with a blanket and my book now I’m finished with my chores for today.”

Her discerning eye flicks from the spotless floor to you, and you resist fidgeting with your dress's cotton skirt under her sharp gaze, which lingers for a moment before she humphs. “Fine, then,” she says, and you’re about to beam before she continues as if returning to a subject you’d been discussing before. “And I mean it, missy. Y'arent to go off with Wayne's boy anymore, y'hear?" She shakes her head in preemptive consternation. "Off in the woods gettin’ up to God-knows-what. It ain't appropriate at your grown age.” The irrythmic tapping of her foot and the exaggerated hunch of her back as she leans toward you would be almost comical if it wasn’t for the injustice of the accusation.

You purse your lips but swallow your indignation when one of her brows goes skyward— a clear warning. “No, Mama,” you concede. “I’m just goin’ to read by myself, I swear it.” You widen your eyes hopefully. “Would it be all right if I fill a canteen with sweet tea to take with me? Please?”

Your mother straightens slowly, face twisted as if considering, and you nearly sag in relief as her hands leave her hips and she folds her arms beneath her ample bosom instead— a clear indicator that she’s easing now. “That’d be fine,” she says, and the snap is gone from her voice. You lean the broom carefully against the island counter and spin to quickly collect your tea from the icebox and the canteen from where it hangs near the screen door.

As you sling the canteen over your shoulder along with your knapsack, you hear her mutter, “Speaking of, that boy desperately needs a haircut.” She squints at you. “Think y’could convince him to trim that mop? Wayne’s been tryin’ for years, and he only seems to listen to you.”

“Oh, no, Mama,” you say sweetly, hands clasped behind your back as you face her, edging in tiny steps back towards the door— that screen that stands between you and freedom. “I couldn’t possibly.” Blindly, your hand finds the handle, and she's still eyeing you as you turn it and slip out.

Unimpressed, she humphs, but the screen door is already snapping closed behind you.

“Be back before sundown!” she shouts, but you’re already bounding down the back porch steps.

“I will!” you call, but the cicadas have already drowned you out as you skip toward the paddock. “Thank you for the tea, mama!”

Your mother is a woman of few mistakes, but she’d made one today. She told you you’re not allowed to see Eddie, and you’d sworn to obey her, and that was that. But her mistake lay in not asking you to show her your hands.

Because she made you swear not to see him, but she hadn’t see your fingers crossed behind your back.

You haven’t spoken to Eddie yet today, but you know exactly where he’ll be.

He’d called to you this morning; you heard it through your cracked window, where the white embroidered curtain swayed as the cackle of a crow cut through the early morning heat yet to fully settle in. You knew what the sound was right away: the call you’d come up with together five summers ago that meant to check the stump. You glanced toward the open door across the hall, the room beyond its threshold empty and still. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught yet, that none of the adults have cottoned on that the caw of the crow sounds an awful lot like a certain brash mischief-maker’s voice. You crouched down to the open window in your nightgown and coo’d your own answering call, the call of the turtle dove. Your musical voice is loud in your ears, but it needs to be in order to reach the red house across the way, separated by a sea of shorn grass and the thick wooden fence between.

Over these five years, none of the adults have cottoned on that the turtle dove always answers the crow, either, and for that you’re grateful.

There was a pause of silence following your melodic coo. Your hair rustled in the slightest breeze whispering through the cracked window, puffing like a cool sigh against your skin as you turn your ear toward the opening and wait. You waited, and waited, oh, so patiently…

And then you heard it: a quick and faint whoop-whoop of boyish delight that, like always, made you shake your head and snort.

Later that morning, you’d put the kitchen scraps out for the goats and edged alongside that thick wooden fence towards the gnarled stump that rests between your family’s farm and the Munsons’. It’s almost dead-center, nearly bisected by that wooden demarcation, but you claim a sliver more and never cease to remind Eddie of that fact. ‘It’s my stump,’ you declare, triumph in the corners of your smirking lips. ‘I’m just allowin’ you to use it out of the grace of my heart, Eddie Munson.’

This morning, you’d reached deep inside the hole, the one that’s rotted straight through to the other side. The one which, if you’d crouched to peek, would offer you an unobstructed view to the grass field of Eddie’s yard, identical to the one you occupy, differing only in its status as his homestead and not yours.

But you didn’t peer through that opening. Instead, you reached your arm in blindly up to the elbow, feeling around for the note you knew would be wedged inside. When your fingers brushed smooth paper, you pinched it and pulled it quickly back, casting a furtive glance around the yard to ensure you were still safe from watchful eyes. With nimble fingers you unfolded and read the note quickly before tearing it to shreds, cupping it in your palms and letting it free to be scattered in the wind.

The note had been memorized almost as soon as you’d read it. Its instruction was simple; you and Eddie have developed a sense of brevity in your message-leaving, writing only as much as necessary to communicate what is needed. Today, it had read, ‘three after noon, hop’s, creek.'

At three o’clock on the dot, you ride Guinnie out to the treeline and hang left, picking your way to the edge of Mr. Hopper’s property which just kisses the corner of the Munson’s farm opposite your family’s land. Eddie is already waiting for you there, nestled in the ferns, hand shading squinted eyes as he sits astride his horse Merlin. You guide Guineveire to meet him in a trot, but she ignores you when you pull the reigns to slow her, too eager to approach her friend. You sigh in exasperation but can’t help but smile when the two horses nicker softly and nudge their faces alongside one anothers’ cheeks.

They make a strange pair, these two. One gargantuan blue roan, his haunches coiled thick with muscle, downy gray and speckled with deep spots of dark to match his mane, tail, and socks; and one pale blonde palomino, stomping daintily as her cream ears flick when the other knocks her with his neck a bit too hard in his enthusiasm. Merlin and Guineveire— a mismatched pair, just like the ones who named them. Yet it little matters when Guinnie sways forward, leaning fondly against her larger companion and, incidentally, drawing you closer to the boy astride him.

Eddie lightly kicks you in greeting once Guinnie makes a slow circle and comes to stand alongside Merlin rather than let her face be flicked by his tail, which twitches away the flies that came to investigate while he and Eddie waited for you. Eddie’s feet are bare and dirty, his trouser hems rolled sloppily above the ankle, and you grimace at him as you swipe dirt off the top of your foot where he’d left smudges on your bare skin. He interrupts before you can work yourself up about it, asking, “J’your ma make you sweep the whole house?”

“No, just the kitchen. I must be doin’ somethin’ right this week because she barely even fought me when I told her I was takin’ Guinnie out. And—” You lift the canteen near your thigh, shaking it so the liquid sloshes inside. “I brought us sweet tea.”

Eddie stares at the canteen with exaggerated rapturous relief, his reply a dramatic sigh. “Good, ‘cause I’m so parched I could drink a lake.”

So quick it’s almost automatic, you unthread the strap and pass the canteen over, watching as he unscrews the cap and throws his head back to gulp it in huge, desperate swallows. And he must be thirsty, because as you watch his adam’s apple bob while he guzzles the still-cold tea, you can see full beads of sweat dripping down the pale cords of his neck to disappear beneath the collar of his white work shirt. The top two buttons have been popped open for some hasty relief, the bottom hem still half-tucked into his trousers but rumpled now from heat and disregard, scrunched around his suspenders. You wonder how long he’d been waiting for you; sitting still like this for just a short while has already made the heat almost unbearable, and the sight of Eddie’s thick curtain of heavy, dark curls is enough to make even you feel hotter.

Eddie’s mouth pops from the canteen with a ragged gasp, lips blushed pink and shiny before they’re concealed behind a hasty swipe of his forearm as he wipes off his mouth and passes you back the canteen. You take a small swig yourself, careful not to let any spill on your dress as the sweet liquid fills your mouth and cools you fractionally, not enough to truly combat the thick, hot soup of the air. Capping the canteen, you ask, “Did you bring our book?”

The answer is written in the sudden sheepishness of your best friend’s expression, and yours flattens as he confirms it. “Nah,” he says, more rueful than dismissive. “I forgot.”

His brows pinch when he sees how clearly crestfallen you are to hear it; he angles quickly to appease your disappointment, adding, “But I did nip some of the cookies Ms. Willard left for Wayne.” You barely have time to brighten before he’s scrunching his nose, saying, “I think she’s actually sweet on ‘im,” like the thought makes him want to scrape the words from his tongue.

You swat at him, and Merlin chuffs disgruntledly when Eddie leans back to avoid you. “Stop that!” you chastise him. “I think it’s darling.”

Eddie is unrepentant, brown eyes lit with the hazy gold of afternoon sun that glints in them mischievously as he doubles down rather than relenting. “It’s disgusting. I might chuck if I have to think about them all wrinkled and bumpin’ uglies.” Before you can retort, he tilts his face at you, coaxing in a sing-song, “The cookies are lemon and lavender— your favorite.”

Your lips fall open in delighted surprise as you anticipate the crumble of tart lemon and sweet, earthy lavender on your tongue. Such a treat truly is your favorite, and mama never bakes so indulgently except for special occasions. Eddie beams at you, his mouth split in a fond, lopsided smile at the sight of your happiness, and his smile washes away any lingering reproach you feel at the insinuation that Ms. Willard would carry on in such an inappropriate way with Wayne. She may be aged and unmarried, but she’s still a lady.

It takes a moment to realize that, in your enthusiasm, you’ve begun wiggling your hips, the hem of your dress pulled tight over the saddle as more bare leg inches out when you swing your feet in little kicks of glee. You realize it when you watch Eddie’s eyes dart down to your exposed calf for a split-second and then back up to your face, his broad grin softening to something stickier, something forbidden and decadent like the cookies he’d stolen for you to share.

It’s not the first time Eddie’s looked at you like that this summer. His gaze has been lingering a little too long for some time now, his fingers a little too eager to graze and tease, his breath skating a little too close along your cheek when you’re alone. And when you’re not, he’s a little too eager to position himself beside you when you’re seated at the table with others, to shout and cackle and make himself big so you’ll look at him across the room at a party, to act the fool in front of crowds of townsfolk if only to hear you giggle, however slight it might be.

Not to say that his manner is entirely new. He’s always been a handful since the day he moved in next door ten years ago— wild and frenetic, brash and mischievous, quick-witted and imaginative, restless and wanting and oh, so hungry for something, only heaven knows what. It took no time at all for you, at eight years old, to befriend the odd boy on the farm beside yours. There was something about Edward Munson that appealed to you. He was too much for many, but he was never too much for you— to handle, to temper, to thrive beside. And because you were the only one who Eddie felt truly understood him, he’d quickly become covetous of your attention, and you of his. You wanted to know him, and he wanted to know you. And over years of playing pretend, celebrating birthdays and running errands in town, exploring the landscape beyond your farmsteads and rescuing one another from boredom, sadness, and the ire of your adults— giving just as much as you receive— you feel you know Eddie Munson as deeply as one friend can know another.

But the attention Eddie has paid you lately is not the same as it’s been in years past. You feel that difference in the pit of your belly when his eyes catch yours across the room, in the tingling of your skin as his fingertips graze it incidentally, in the flutter behind your ribcage when the sun shifts and the softness of his nose or the slant of his jaw or the ruddiness of his knuckles looks suddenly more captivating than it had the moment before. But it’s not the sun that’s made it so; it’s not Eddie’s features that have suddenly changed. It’s a feeling inside you, growing restless and wanting and oh, so hungry for something that both thrills and scares you in equal measure.

So when Eddie’s eyes hold yours a beat too long, you quickly look away, lifting one side of Guineveire’s reigns so she’ll turn from where she’d been comfortably lazing her head against Merlin’s. Your horse rouses, alert now as she feels the shift in your energy, the way your thighs tighten against her sides in preparation for what you have planned. “Come on,” you say, tossing Eddie a smirk over your shoulder as Guinnie snuffs in anticipation, hooves shifting against grass and fern. “I’ll race you to the crik.”

Any protest about unfairness from Eddie is drowned out by your joyous whoop as you snap the reins and Guinnie takes off like a bat out of hell. Merlin may be stronger than Guineveire, and Eddie more wild than you, but no one rivals you in conviction once your mind is set.

You’ve set your mind to beating Eddie, and so you do. You beat him by almost a full minute, heart pounding and hair mussed as you emerge from the thicket to the welcome sight of the creek. Down by the bank on the right, a towering weeping willow steals all of the attention; its branches dip full and low over lazily flowing water, the edges of those leafy tendrils grazing its surface like a languid caress. You’ve been here many times before, sometimes with Eddie and sometimes without, and the sight of the ferns tapering to short clover in the clearing between forest and water and then to cattails at the bank’s edge is as familiar to you as the back of your hand.

You’re suddenly glad to have beaten Eddie to the creek for a reason other than bragging rights: dismounting Guinnie exposes enough knee and thigh beneath your dress to thoroughly scandalize your mama, even with a copse of trees and two farm-fields between you. You don’t much care how unladylike it is to travel astride in a dress as opposed to sidesaddle— you’d rather hike up your skirt than try to navigate through the woods sitting so insecurely, but it does force you into a rather compromising position for a moment as you climb down. Thankfully, no one is around to see it, other than the chickadees trilling in the branches of the willow, the turtles sunning themselves on flat river rocks, and the bullfrog croaking inside a dead log at the water’s edge. You lead Guinnie over to the trunk of a nearby cedar, and you’re still tying her off when Eddie bursts from the trees, huffing and swiping errant leaves from his hair as Merlin wanders over toward you and Guinnie independent of his rider’s direction.

“Took you long enough,” you sass, pursing your lips against a smug smile when Eddie grunts sourly.

Eddie swings himself down to the ground, his pale forearm flexing as he catches Merlin’s bridle to keep him from tossing his head impatiently. “Yeah, I know, I know, you beast,” he mutters, and though he glowers, there’s a touch of fondness in it, apparent as he smooths his hand so carefully along Merlin’s powerful neck. “You’ll be all snug next to your girlfriend in a jif. Just wanna get this saddle off’ya first.”

As if falling into a practiced routine, you and Eddie prepare your lounging space for the afternoon. He tends the horses while you clear rocks and twigs to lay down the woven blanket in your knapsack. Wordlessly, you take Guinnie and Merlin’s saddles from him, laying them across the mossy boulder at the edge of the clearing; wordlessly, he passes you the canteen and the paper bag of cookies, and you carry them over to the blanket, laying them in the clover nearby. You’re watching how the light plays through the leafy canopy above you, casting shadows that dance on the weave of your blanket when Eddie lopes up from behind, brushing past you in a rustle of cloth and a blaze of body heat before flopping down unceremoniously onto his back in the middle of the blanket.

Your voice comes indignant and quick at the sight of his filthy toes. “Ed, your—”

With a jolt, he snatches his feet up where they’d been threatening your blanket, shimmying himself down until he can bend his knees and plant those filthy toes in the soft clover instead. He tucks his hands under his head, closing his eyes and nestling in with a contented sigh as you lay out much more carefully beside him. As soon as you’re prone on your tummy, skirt fanned across your calves and elbow grazing the side of his buttoned shirt when you prop your chin on your fists, you’re eyeing him expectantly. Your gaze roams his peaceful face, unconcerned about the tick in his brow as you demand, “Tell me a story.”

Eddie cracks his eyes just barely to slant you a glance, and their umber is nearly concealed by his long, dark lashes as he drawls, “Can’t a man who’s spent the whole day breakin' his back take a moment to rest, you pesky woman?”

You’re entirely unphased by his snark. “Firstly,” you challenge him, “you spent a good part of the day futzin’ around on your guitar, and don’t you try to argue the point ‘cause I heard you playin’ over the fence. And secondly, you’re the one who forgot to bring Don Quixote. I wanna hear a story about knights and dragons and princesses, and it’s your responsibility to deliver,” you finish haughtily.

Eddie sighs heavily, pretending to hem and haw just to get a rise out of you. It doesn’t take long for his frown to melt into a grin when you play along, kicking your feet in the air and raising your voice to be heard over his griping. “And now you gotta put in a giant and a windmill just ‘cause you’re vexing me!”

“Fine, fine, Christ Almighty,” he relents, and you drop the charade immediately, walking your elbows over to angle toward him for optimal listening, your eyes trained on his pale face.

Almost effortlessly, Eddie begins to weave you a tale about knights and dragons and princesses as his eyes go far away, watching the puffy-clouded sky, and your eyes go gooey and soft, watching him. His gaze flicks to yours when the giant and windmill each are introduced, his plush lips curling when you smile at him, inordinately delighted that he’s humoring you even though he always does. The buzzing hum of August’s voice sings along as he regales you, the sounds of the forest a welcome melody to accompany the theatrical accents he gives to each character.

The longer he goes, the more animated Eddie gets, and it’s almost— almost— enough to forget just how hot it is today. While the creek offers some indirect relief, cooling whatever slight breeze occasionally wavers through the fronds, the humidity and sun are formidable beasts, palpable and oppressive as they crowd in against you and Eddie both. Eventually, Eddie’s gesturing and facial expressions grow visibly weaker as his bangs begin to stick to his glistening skin and sweat pools in the hollow of his throat. The dampness pops along your skin, too; the nape of your neck begins to itch, and when you swipe at your upper lip, the heel of your hand comes away wet.

It’s clear when Eddie’s voice cracks that it’s time to take a break. Your dress's fabric clings uncomfortably to your skin when you twist to grab the canteen, passing it to Eddie first, who takes two conscientious sips before promptly handing it back so you can loosen your sticky tongue and soothe your own throat. You snatch up the cookies next, your stomach growling as you see the evidence of their decadence— the bottom of the paper bag has grown dark as it soaked up their butter, making your mouth water with anticipation. You reach eagerly inside to pull out two cookies, passing them into Eddie’s waiting palm before taking one of your own.

You nibble as you sit up, crossing your legs underneath your skirt, your knee pressing into Eddie’s hip as tart lemon and earthy lavender burst within your mouth, the cookies more dense and sweet than you’d even remembered. You don’t stifle your moan of satisfaction as your head tips back and sags in bliss, lips puckering so you can keep chewing though they want to smile.

“That good, huh?” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, warm and teasing, but you don’t bother to reply, entirely taken in by your favorite flavors. Instead, you just nod and impulsively stuff the entire cookie in your mouth.

The rasp of Eddie’s barking laughter has you huffing amusedly through your nose in turn as you dig in the bag, swallowing a little prematurely but resolved in savoring this next one. You eat the second cookie much more slowly, gazing out at the creek as it undulates in little swirls of blue and green and white, unrelenting in seeking its way around whatever may jut into its path— a branch stuck between rocks, a tangle of leaves caught in strands of rivergrass near the shore. It’s a comfort to see it flow so steadily, endlessly churning and ever-changing, but nevertheless a reliable constant you can return to time and again.

The second treat tastes just as good as the first, and you lick the crumbs from your fingertips as you glance down at Eddie once you’ve finished. He has eaten his cookies lying down, one hand propped beneath the splay of his dark wild curls and the other resting on the flat of his tummy. In between them, marring the white of his half-unbuttoned shirt and stuck against the skin exposed by that gaping triangle, is a conspicuous heap of golden-brown crumbs. The mess is entirely unsurprising, considering how sloppy Eddie often is, but the result is no less distasteful for it.

You scrunch your nose and lean over him, planting one palm in the space his bent elbow makes beside his ear and briskly swiping the other along cotton and damp skin. Your chuckles color your admonishment as you exclaim, “Sit up if you can’t help but make a mess of yourself! You’re such a pig, I swear—!”

Eddie surges up, capturing your wrist in a grip light enough to break if you were to want to. “Take it back,” he says warningly, and when he tilts his head this time, the glimmer of mischief in his eye tells you it’s not to coax you. A thrill alights in your chest at the promise of the game, the way his long fingers circle your wrist so easily.

A giggle squeaks out of you before you declare loudly, “Never!”

Your gleeful shriek echoes off the willow and the cedars, the creek and the clover as Eddie grapples with you playfully. You try to fist one of his suspenders with your other hand, but the attempt puts you at his mercy; he uses that advantage to bully you down flat to the blanket, though even in this semblance of roughhousing Eddie’s attempts are light and easy, nowhere near the latent power coiled in his biceps from years of chopping wood in winter, tilling earth in spring, and hacking hay in fall. Husky chuckles rain on your skin as you squirm and wiggle in his grip, not really trying in earnest to escape until his hand leaves your shoulder and dips instead to your waist, fingers digging with devilish precision into the most ticklish parts of you.

Your glee turns to desperate gasping and involuntary, wheezing giggles as Eddie tickles you mercilessly while you try harder to buck away from his touch. Your attempts are entirely ineffectual, and the sensation of his deft fingers writhing against your ribs and the soft of your waist coupled with the stifling heat of his body where he has you half-pinned beneath him to keep you from escaping, has your face utterly burning with discomfited hysterics.

He doesn’t let up until you call for mercy, though at the first stuttered “St-stop—” that falls from your lips, his fingers immediately cease their cursed torture. Boneless, exhausted, your head tips back against the blanket as you heave for air, the fuzz in your head from lack of breath slowly dissipating as Eddie’s palm drags firmly and briskly up and down your waist, rubbing away the residual ticklish sensation almost contritely.

Once you’ve gotten your bearings and recovered your senses, you realize that while Eddie has stopped tickling you, he hasn’t moved from his position half on top of you. His belly presses into yours with each breath, firm and solid just like the rest of him, and you can smell the evidence of the August day clinging to his dark curls where they’re pinned against your nose: the sour tang of sweat, the earthy snap of tobacco smoke, the natural musk of his body, and, beneath it all, the scent of wild rain, of summer wind and petrichor, subtle but heady like an approaching storm. That feeling within you stirs, awakening at the press of his solid weight across your ribs and breasts, but the heat of him, while in some ways welcome, makes the heavy August humidity edge beyond extremely uncomfortable to utterly unbearable.

You express your discontent with an exaggerated shimmy of your shoulders; Eddie stirs, grunting as you make his resting place unpleasant to continue resting on. “It’s too dang hot for wrestling,” you gripe, “get offa me, you big oaf.”

Eddie’s head pops immediately from your shoulder, his nose nearly brushing yours as he pins you with a wide and eager stare. The gleam in his umber eyes should alarm you, but all you feel is that stirring inside again until his breath ghosts over your lips when he declares proudly, “Then let’s go swimming.”

His face shines like it’s the best idea he’s ever had, but exasperation floods to stifle that warm stirring within you. Eddie pouts when he sees your face contort skeptically, pink lips poking petulantly at your immediate resistance. “Eddie,” his name is mostly a sympathetic sigh, “I can’t. My mama would roast me alive, you know that.”

Your best friend’s eyes narrow at your tone, and you suck your lips into your mouth almost apologetically, knowing Eddie really doesn’t like it when you treat him like he’s simple. The remorse fades when he quirks a brow, glancing down at the slick skin of your throat and collarbone exposed above your neckline before teasing, “You’re already roastin’ alive. You’re sweatin’ like a whore in church.”

Your indignance is instant and fierce. “Edward Munson! Well, I never—!” You shove him bodily off of you, and he lets you, rasping with easy laughter as he leans on a palm to the side of you, looking down at your burning face with a smirk.

Eddie is smirking, but you know he doesn’t mean to call you a whore, that he only really says things like that because he likes to goad these reactions out of you. And you’d keep playing his game— keep being angry at him— if it weren’t for the way the light was filtering through the leaves, playing on his frizzy curls and lighting them beautifully amber at the edges. If it weren’t for the way his collar had fallen further open when you’d been roughhousing, exposing more of his pale chest as it bunches around his suspenders, making him look more like the cover of some two-cent romance novel than the sloppy farmboy he’s always been. If it weren’t for the way he's looking down at you— you lying prone on your back with him beside you, towering over you from your vantage point, with that sharp jaw and the plush curl of his lopsided smirk and the veins popping on the forearm he’s braced on, his skin flushed pink beneath the rolled sleeves of his white shirt.

Your anger dissolves at the sight of these things, and if it had remained, perhaps this next conversation would have gone differently.

You lean up slightly, your eyes sliding from your best friend’s face to the scenery behind him. The slow journey of the creek’s water over rocks and sticks, the soothing sound of its trickle and flow, the sight of those willow leaves dragging against its smooth surface…

It looks so mouthwateringly refreshing.

With the lack of your anger comes mournful regret. “I can’t go home soaking wet,” you lament, and your tone makes your internal conflict clear.

Your eyes slide reluctantly from the creek back to Eddie, and you see a peculiar look cross his face. “I mean,” he says, hesitating for the briefest moment, “we could just take our clothes off.”

You blink at him, thrown entirely for a loop at the outlandishness of that suggestion, rendered mute as you try— and fail— to process it. In your muteness, Eddie keeps talking, as if he’s working it out to himself while he speaks. “Yeah. Ya know, that could actually work. Could swim for awhile, cool down, get out, dry off with the blanket.” He grins. “Bet we’d even air dry in no time in this heat.”

The proposition is absurd. It’s entirely inappropriate, and just… just lying there, staring up at Eddie’s face as he leans over you, makes your skin feel suddenly too tight for your body. You sit up abruptly, folding your knees and wrapping your arms around them. When Eddie clocks the look on your face, he huffs, his voice going a little sharp in defensiveness. “What? What's wrong with that? We've been friends for ages; I’d say we’re way past the point of gettin' embarrassed.” He snaps and points at you, shaking his finger as he gets on a roll. “‘Member when you came to me all upset because you bled through your dress and had to turn your apron around to keep your ma’ from seeing? I even helped you get the blood out. Didn’t I?” He doesn’t give you a chance to confirm or deny before continuing smugly, as if he’s got you beat, “And I showed you that nasty wart on my toe when you asked me to, even though I really didn’t wanna. See? Like I said, no reason to be embarrassed.”

You’d stopped listening at the mention of his wart, craning your neck to try and see his foot where it’s tucked against the clover over the edge of the blanket. “How is that now? Is it still there?” you ask earnestly. Eddie just snuffs a wry breath through his nose; his curls sway as he shakes his head.

“Uh-uh. Already showed y’once, I’m not doin’ it again. Plus, you’re provin’ my point.” He smiles at you crookedly, digging his toes further into the clover to hide them before eyeing you smugly. And you can’t fault his logic when you’d walked right into it like that.

“Yeah, I guess,” you reluctantly agree, to which he adds,

“Plus, s'not like I haven't seen you nekkid before.”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “Yeah, when we were, what, eleven? It's different now.”

The smugness on Eddie’s face melts; his eyes fill with that stickiness from before, like when he looks at you a little too long. His voice a quiet murmur, Eddie asks you, “What makes it different now?”

The question could be answered easily enough. Because we're grown. Because you're a man now, and I'm a woman, and it wouldn't be proper. But after this summer's changes, and with that feeling awakening in the pit of your belly— wanting, yearning, hungry— you can tell that it's more loaded than that. Suddenly, the air feels heavier than it was just a moment before, thicker with something other than summertime humidity as you stare into Eddie’s umber eyes. Nervousness dances along your limbs, but it’s not that terrified kind of fear— it’s closer to anticipation.

Rather than answering the question directly, you avoid it, lifting your chin to reply as nonchalantly as you can, though you feel anything but. “Fine.”

Eddie’s eyes bug out. “R-Really?”

His immediate shock makes you rush hot with embarrassment, feeling caught out and self-conscious. Your voice bursts from you in defensive indignance as you drop your knees, crossing your arms tight beneath your breasts. “You cannot be serious. You're the one who proposed it, Ed!”

He scrambles to keep you from getting upset, brow pinched and eyes wide in a different way. “No, no, I…” He flounders for a moment, looking at a loss. “I just didn’t… I didn’t think—”

With a sharp shake of his dark curls, face scrunched as if to clear the cobwebs from his head, Eddie cuts himself off. He blinks at you silently for a moment, finally saying, somewhat more hoarsely, “We can do it. I wanna do it.”

You watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob as his eyes scan quickly down your cotton dress, lingering in your lap, though the swaths of fabric conceal even the innocent outline of your legs. A pulse of heat tingles low as his gaze sweeps over you, and you resist the urge to jam your hands down to cover yourself, feeling exposed though there’s nothing to see. Fiercely, you warn him, “Just keep your back turned ‘til I get in the water, or I'll whoop you."

Eddie snorts loudly, countering, “You really think you could whoop me?"

“Yes,” you snap back sassily, your faux-confidence deflating slightly as you add, “...if you let me.”

You smile at the warm chuckle he rewards you with, but when Eddie starts peeling his suspenders down, your heart seizes in your chest. The anticipation feels a little more like fear now that you’re confronted with the reality of what you and Eddie are about to do. You pop to your feet, rocking on your heels and fidgeting with your fingers, and Eddie’s brows jump when he looks up and registers your nervousness. Your voice wavers slightly as you ask half a question, letting it trail off into implication. “Are you gonna, um…?”

“Yeah, no, yeah,” he says quickly, scrambling up and wiping his palms on his trousers. Haltingly, cheeks pink, he rushes, “I’ll just… I’ll go behind the willow. Meet you in there.”

“Yep,” you say, the word bitten off a little too short in your awkwardness. “‘Kay.”

“‘Kay,” Eddie echoes, shooting you a sheepish smile before hurrying off in that direction. Only once he’s ducked behind the willow trunk does the hammering of your heart begin to calm, that nervousness settling back to anticipation, though it’s a little queasier than it was before now that there’s nothing technically stopping you from preparing to swim.

You kick off your shoes first— the simplest to remove— and, with a deep breath, you begin to undress.

With trembling fingers, you undo the buttons on your dress and peel the sticky fabric from your arms and decolletage. Your silky chemise comes next, and you aren’t sure whether to be grateful or rueful that in the summer, you’re wearing so few layers. It’s an odd sensation to feel the sun on every part of you— the small of your back, the valley between your breasts— as you fold your chemise and neatly tuck it between the bodice and skirt of your dress to maintain modesty before laying them both on the blanket.

And that’s it, then. The chickadees titter in the branches, the turtles sun themselves on flat river rocks, the bullfrog croaks in the dead log at the water’s edge, Merlin and Guinnie nicker gently at the edge of the clover clearing— and in the middle of it all, you stand there, buck-naked as the day you were born.

It feels distinctly uncomfortable at first, being naked anywhere but in your bedroom or bathroom back at home. You half-suspect your mama to come barreling out of the trees, ruddy-faced and angry as the devil to drag you back to the farm by your ear and lash you, both with words and with papa’s belt. But as the seconds tick by, and you begin to settle into the feeling, the weak breeze that wavers the fronds whispers along your sticky skin, tickling you pleasantly. You look towards the creek— the whole purpose for your nakedness— and you begin to covet the sight of the flowing water, to imagine how it will slither against your ankles and knees, cradling your body in cool refreshment. Discomfort eases; eagerness at the thought of that relief takes its place.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to stray to the thick trunk of the willow overhanging the creek. You imagine Eddie behind it and begin to ponder all sorts of questions. What does he look like underneath his clothes? Is he lean? You’ve seen the muscles on his arms and back earlier this spring when he’d take off his shirt to work in the field as the weather got warmer; you couldn’t see much, though, as you had nary a birds-eye view from your distant bedroom window, and no way could you have chanced trying to peep over the fence. You find yourself wondering now, Are his thighs as muscular as his arms seem to be? Are his calves? Do the freckles across the bridge of his nose echo on other parts of his body this late in the summer, maybe on his shoulders?

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him bare— seven years, give or take— and you know you can’t reliably compare what you’d seen then with what he looks like now; Eddie’s more man than boy lately. The nature of your wondering changes. What does a bare man look like, anyway? You’ve never seen one. Naturally, a question follows: Has Eddie seen a bare woman before?

That wondering flusters you, and you can only begin to think about why before heat is rushing to your cheeks and you need to abandon the thought. Unconsciously, you go to smooth your skirt, but your hands hit the flesh of your thighs instead, unencumbered by clothes. You glance down and your breasts are there, sloping gently from your chest, your nipples soft in the warm humidity. It makes you wonder how Eddie’s chest has changed, whether he has hair there now. It can’t be thick if he does, or you probably would’ve seen it from the window. Does he have hair any other places? You suppose he probably does, since you’d grown hair under your arms and between your legs when you reached your maturity, too. You only barely conceive a thought about what lies between Eddie’s legs, and that flusters you so thoroughly that when you press your palms to your cheeks, your skin feels hotter than you imagine the surface of the sun must be.

You wonder then if Eddie is thinking about you and how your body has changed in the same way that you’re thinking about him. It makes you self-conscious to picture him imagining you beneath your clothes, drawing his own conclusions about your shape, and then glimpsing the truth of what your clothes conceal. No one has seen your naked body except for mama and your older sister, who couldn’t give two hoots what you look like, and the thought of someone looking at you and being disappointed in what they see is a crushing thought. Not that you think Eddie will see your body, really, but you can’t help but—

A sudden whoop, wild and boyish, startles you out of your thoughts, and with a blur of pale flesh and dark curls, Eddie takes a running leap into the creek.

The dramatic smack of Eddie’s body against the water has you bolting for the willow tree, your hands colliding with rough bark as you peek around it, beratements hissing through your teeth. “What a reckless, stupid idiot you are, Eddie Munson!” The words are cutting, but the crinkle of your brow and the squeezing of your chest bely the true meaning behind them. Your breath catches as beats pass without any sign of him, anxiety rising until his head bursts from the surface of the water, fixing you with a waterlogged but manic smile as you peer at him from the other side of the trunk, body shielded from his view.

The only way you could possibly convey the depth of your vexation and relief is by childishly stomping your foot, and you do just that. “Gosh darn it!” you shout, face all screwed up, “You’re so—! Ugh!” You stomp again. “You coulda hit your head on a rock and drowned!”

Eddie ignores your shouting, dark curls plastered to his cheeks that round with the force of his joy. “Git over here!” he calls, “It feels like heaven in here!” He laughs raucously, disturbing the water as he swishes his arms through it in boyish delight.

Seeing his joy and yearning for that refreshment for yourself, you put aside the tightness of your worry for him. “Turn around!” you call, and obligingly, Eddie straightens and does, showing you the plane of his pale back and the wet tendrils of his drenched curls covering his shoulder blades. “And no peeking!” you tack on, snorting as you hear him slap both palms over his eyes, though the gesture warms your heart nonetheless.

You edge down to the bank, keeping one hand on the willow’s trunk as you test your footing. The bottom of the creek bed is a little slippery with stones but mostly soft with peat and algae, and the water feels so rapturously cool on your ankles that you sigh audibly in relief once both feet are in. You wade further toward the center of the creek until the water reaches the tops of your breasts, at which point you finally toss a glance in Eddie’s direction again.

Even with a few feet of distance separating you, knowing Eddie is naked underneath the water has your nerves churning up again; you duck down so that the cool water covers your clavicle, making sure your breasts can't be seen before you finally call out to him again, much more quietly now with your proximity.

“Okay,” you say, chewing on your bottom lip, “you can stop covering your eyes. My virtue is protected,” you joke, though it comes out a little more tremulously than you had hoped.

Slowly, Eddie’s jutting elbows straighten as he drops his hands from his face, and your eyes dart over everything you can see— the chapped ruddiness of his elbows, the veins in his arms, the bend of the skin at his waist as he begins to turn around. And then you’re just looking at his face as it emerges— the curve of his ear, the darkness of his hair, normally a frizzy stormcloud around his head but now flattened silkily against his jaw; the hollow shadow between his jaw and throat, the softness of his nose, the beads of water clinging to his dark brow.

And then, all at once, Eddie is facing you. His umber eyes never stray from your face, not glancing for a peek of exposed skin, though you’ve ensured barely any can be seen, just the tiniest sliver of the tops of your shoulders, plus your neck and face. Not much he hasn’t seen before. Nevertheless, he doesn’t try— doesn’t attempt to look below the water to see what your bare body looks like. He’s a gentleman, perfectly adhering to your instruction not to peek, but you can’t decide if you’re more relieved or disappointed by his compliance.

For a long moment, there’s just the sound of the creek flowing between you as you look back at Eddie. He's taller than you, and he isn’t hunched; he’s standing tall, seemingly unconcerned about you seeing what flesh is exposed above the water. Your eyes glide over the water running off the ends of his curls and down his pale chest, making little ripples when they slide into the creek where they belong. You remain composed until you notice the dusk of his nipples beaded with water, hard and puckered in the water’s chill. Your eyes widen slightly as the sight awakens that hunger again, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind in an effort to keep him from noticing your reaction.

“Oh, my word, this is so refreshing!” you say, perhaps overly enthusiastic, your smile a bit too broad as it aches in your cheeks. “Probably the best idea you've ever had, in fact. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Eddie’s brow twitches in confused amusement at your exaggerated cheer, but he blessedly decides not to comment apart from saying, “Think that’s the first time you’ve ever willingly apologized to me.”

“Mmm…” you pretend to deliberate, wobbling your head back and forth. “Yeah, maybe,”you reply, chuckling to lighten the mood.

But your laughter weakens, going a little uneasy as Eddie wades closer, head tilting like a curious hound. “You didn't get your hair wet,” he observes, and you glance up like you’d be able to see it atop your head.

“I don't wanna get my hair wet, Eddie,” you say, an edge of warning in your voice already. Because you know Eddie Munson, and you know that, though the observation had sounded entirely innocent, those umber eyes are already gleaming with mischief.

“Awww,” he goads, and the word goes husky with laughter as he sees the alarm on your face, the way you tense warily as he edges closer. “Come on, turtle dove. You gotta go under.”

“No, Eddie.” You attempt to be firm, glaring at him in an attempt at intimidation. “It'll mess it all up and it’ll never dry in time—”

“Here,” he says lightly, disregarding your protests as his smile goes wolfish, “I’ll help you—”

Quick as a copperhead strike, Eddie makes to grab for your arms. But you’d been prepared for this— you dodge backward, squealing and splashing him directly in the face.

Eddie halts and sputters, running his hands roughly over his eyes and dragging them down the expanse of his face. And you know— you know— with how Eddie’s wolfish smile goes manic and wild when it’s revealed again that now, you've really done it.

Desperation drives you as you begin to scramble backward, wetting the ends of your hair in your haste to get away. He pursues you almost languidly, with a sense of confident assurance that has you crumbling and grasping for your final defense, which is to declare shrilly, “Edward Munson, don't you dare. I swear on all things holy—”

When Eddie lunges for you, you know with a sense of certainty that you won’t be able to escape the cage of his hot hands as he traps you, holding you firmly around the upper arms. In fact, you don’t even try very hard at first— you just let him grab you, freezing in his grip as if in hope that your compliance will convince him to take mercy on you. But then, with a bright grin of triumph, Eddie begins whipping his head side to side, shaking his curls to coat you with water like a dog.

You brace your palms on his chest and push then, crying out in dismay as you feel the droplets rain down on your hair and face. “Eddie!" you protest, but as you squint at him, you begin laughing— laughing at how silly he looks doing that, laughing at the fact that he could’ve easily shoved you under the water but has chosen to do this instead. You're laughing, and then Eddie starts laughing, your voices overwhelming the sound of the cicadas as they bounce off river rocks and cedars, filling the August air with your shared joy.

Eddie is still holding you, still shaking his head, though more slowly now, as you suppose he’s likely getting dizzy. And this becomes one of your games— you press your palms harder against his chest and his fingers tighten around your upper arms, pulling as you push, keeping a careful equilibrium in maintaining distance.

You maintain distance until, with the river water and sweat combined, your slippery hands slide on his chest.

One moment, you’re pushing and he’s pulling, equally and carefully matched in strength to continue your game. The next instant, before you can think or react, you’ve lost purchase. Eddie has no time to think or react, either; not expecting that sudden lack of resistance, he tugs you bodily against him.

Suddenly, his hot skin is everywhere, slick and firm and soft all at once. A ragged gasp rips from your throat as you’re overwhelmed by sensation: your hard nipples rasping against the dusting of hair on his chest, your nose now smushed against the hollow of his throat, the entire length of your body buzzing with the utter foreignness of feeling someone else's bare skin touching your bare skin. And there's something else, something inexplicably hotter than the rest of Eddie’s body, somehow hard and silky soft all at once where it presses between you against your belly. You’re uncomprehending for only a fraction of a second before it becomes very obvious what it must be.

Oh.

You spring apart from him at the same time that he releases you, no more than a second after the impact, though it had somehow felt much longer than that in the moment. Your face floods with searing heat as you stare at him, barely registering the look of wide-eyed, visceral horror on Eddie’s face as your heart pounds in your ears. His mouth is moving, but you don’t hear it— you’re consumed by the feelings flooding your body, reeling from shock and mortification but also from dizzying, fluttering euphoria. Because that feeling inside you— the one that hungers for something more with the boy standing across from you, who's still blathering something you can’t hear— has now had a taste of what it yearns for. Liquid heat pools low in your belly, pulsing much more intensely than the typical tingle you feel when thinking about Eddie in this way, rushing up to buzz through your body until your pupils dilate and you burst with heady need.

Eddie’s dismayed rambling eventually becomes discernable above the pounding of your heart. You register distantly what he’s saying— “I'm so sorry, oh fuck, please, i-it was an accident, I didn’t mean to—” but all that matters is that he's babbling, hysterical, face contorted and fingers fisted in his curls in a way that must be painful. And how can you talk to him like this? How can you even begin to think when he’s yammering on in such a way?

So you stomp forward, grab the back of Eddie’s neck and yank his face into your outstretched palm, which clamps over his lips. “Eddie Munson,” you huff, ignoring the way his lips feel against your palm as he keeps trying to speak, though you suspect it’s more in befuddlement now than remorse as his eyes are wide as kitchen saucers. “Would you just shut it for one dang second?”

All at once, Eddie’s stifled speech ceases, and his lips grow still against your palm. You sigh, relieved to have finally put a stop to that noise, but the look on Eddie’s face pierces you, holding you fast.

He looks terrified.

Eddie looks more scared than you’ve ever seen him, his brow scrunched up tight, his eyes so dismayed that they appear glassy with unshed tears. It pierces you deeply to see him looking at you this way, tugging behind your ribs until your chest aches like the deepest bruise. Your brows marry in the middle, crinkling up as your eyes go big and soft and sad for him. “Eddie,” you whisper, cracked with compassion at the sight of his distress, though fear and longing have knit you up just as tightly inside. And though you let go of the nape of his neck, you don't pull your palm away from his face. Instead, slowly, tentatively, you shift your hand to Eddie’s cheek, dragging against his warm skin in a slow, crawling path as he stands stock-still, watching you like a deer in headlights. You pause for a long moment, just holding Eddie’s cheek, before your trembling thumb lowers, petting featherlight along his cheekbone.

It’s not something that can be explained away by one best friend attempting to comfort another after a mortifying accident. Your thumb traces Eddie’s cheekbone once, twice, and then again, prodding against the boundary of your friendship in a way that cannot be ignored. Stroking Eddie Munson’s cheekbone is the scariest thing you’ve ever done because on the other side of this choice can be effusive bliss or rending sorrow, and nothing in-between.

Your breath is shallow as you wait for Eddie to react— to say or do something, anything, to indicate what he’s thinking. Because he doesn’t look scared anymore, but you can’t place the look on his face, either. You’ve never seen it before. And then slowly, as if he’s half afraid to move and shatter the illusion, Eddie’s hand emerges from the surface of the creek, droplets running down the length of his forearm and falling in little ripples back into the water as he reaches up and brushes his fingertips so gently, so lightly, against your collarbone. It’s a graze of skin you can barely feel, but you tremble nonetheless.

“Eddie,” you whisper again, but compassion doesn’t crack your voice this time.

Wanting does.

Eddie swallows thickly, voice hoarse and choked with the weight of what he is about to ask. “C-can I kiss you? Please?”

There is no hesitation, only sweet, euphoric relief when you nod, and then your best friend is kissing you.

Fluttering, dizzying desire bursts in your belly when Eddie slots his mouth against your mouth; all you can feel is warm wetness as his breath flows down to mingle with yours in your lungs. It isn’t tentative, or questioning, or timid when Eddie kisses you, grabbing up your face and moaning past your teeth as if he’s never wanted anything more in his life. Your fingers scrabble for purchase along his muscular shoulders, clutching slippery skin as you whimper and move your lips frantically against his. The heat of his skin and lips contrasts with the cool slick of the water enveloping your bodies from the chest down, and the sensation makes you break out in goosebumps that he soothes with restless stroking of his broad palms over your arms and back. You’ve wanted to touch him like this— be touched by him like this— so desperately that your bones cried out for it, and they sing in praise as Eddie hikes you up against him, kissing you insistently, crushing you so tightly to his body that it’s almost uncomfortable. But it’s exactly what you need— your breasts pressed up against his chest, your belly heaving into his as you gasp and kiss and lick into his mouth, brain fuzzy, body following only instinct. Eddie’s palms find the small of your back, clutching you close as he angles his muscular thigh between your legs. You whine, body electrified with the feeling of his hands pressing your hips forward until that place between your legs rubs against him, sparking delicious friction that seems to be the physical culmination of that hunger inside you, never before explored.

When you undulate your hips experimentally, mimicking the movement Eddie has coaxed you to follow, his palms leave the small of your back to pull you closer, wrapping you up in his firm embrace. With how tightly you’re pressed against him, you can feel that the hardness trapped between you is even hotter and stiffer now against your hip, and it makes that hunger flare in the pit of your belly, desiring more, more, more. You’re panting, overtaken as Eddie licks across your bottom lip, and you whimper; with shaky fingers, you reach down beneath the water, seeking blindly between your bodies until your fingertips brush against the very tip of that hardness.

You stiffen in surprise as it jumps against your belly; abruptly, Eddie pulls his mouth from yours but doesn’t retreat completely. He continues to hold you, chest heaving, staring into your eyes for a dazed moment before his lips crack and his voice leaks out hoarsely. “Have you ever lain with a man?”

Your cheeks heat at the brazenness of the question, but considering the position you’re in— pressed up against him, having just been rubbing yourself along his thigh and feeling his hardness dig into your hip— you suppose talking about this is far less brazen than you’ve already been today. Mutely, you shake your head. “Have you,” you ask, “with a woman?”

After a moment, Eddie nods. Your stomach falls; you feel yourself grow sour with jealousy, and Eddie misinterprets the sudden pinch of your brow. “We don't have to,” he says quickly. “We don't have to do anything you don't wanna. Hear me?”

He cups the side of your neck, gently, so gently, wetting the hair at your nape as his calloused fingertips brush there. His tender touch eases your sourness, and you think instead about his assertion, about the implication of what you could do with him— what you could allow him to do to you. And you know how it works. You've seen geldings mount mares before, however ineffectually; you know the wheres and the hows and the whens of it all, though your knowledge is all theoretical and in no part practical.

But when you think about Eddie’s hot stiff flesh still pressing against your hip, about that hardness sinking between your legs, you can’t deny you’re curious. And with him… you feel safe. You feel cherished. And part of you can acknowledge how you've been yearning to know him in this intimate way for a long time.

Since the beginning of summer.

Since before that.

Maybe since always.

“I want to,” you tell him, and at last, all the hesitation melts from Eddie Munson’s face. He smiles, and the stretch of his lips is sticky, forbidden, and decadent; the softness of his umber eyes is filled with simmering heat. Your best friend has been looking at you like this all summer, and you finally know what it means.

Eddie goes first, guiding you to the edge of the creek. As he does, little by little, the water recedes from your bodies, revealing more and more of his pale skin as he climbs out before you, planting his feet and holding out his hand to help you up after him. You set your smaller hand in his, and his grip is unwavering as you use what he offers you to climb out onto soft clover.

On the bank of the creek beside the weeping willow, you see all of Eddie for the first time. He is tall, lean, and still a little gangly in the length of his arms and legs like he’d been as a child, but far more solid now, with firm muscle from toiling on his family’s farm. His shoulders are broad, his neck strong, his waist narrow but padded with a healthy layer of soft fat that fills him out more than you remember. The hair on his legs and arms is sparse, same as it is on his chest, but it thickens near his belly button in a trail leading downward before spreading low on his pelvis.

He’s at the very tail end of that transition from boyhood to manhood. And there's one part of him that's very much man— it's staring you right in the eye between his legs. Ruddy, curved, nestled in that dark thatch of untrimmed curls. You pulse with desire as you see it, heat tingling low as you shift on your feet; nevertheless, your eyes jump sheepishly from there to his face as if you’ve done something wrong.

But Eddie merely looks back at you calmly, allowing you to look at him. And when his eyes drag over your exposed skin in turn— over your breasts and soft stomach, your hips and pillowy thighs, over the curls between your legs, and even over the gentle curve of your calves where they meet your bony ankles— he looks so in awe over you that you resist the urge to cover yourself from his gaze, not wanting to take it from him.

You aren’t concerned about dirty feet or cookie crumbs when you lay with Eddie on the blanket again, the heat of his body radiating against yours as he stretches out beside you. When he cups your jaw to meet your lips with his, you relax into his touch with an ease that feels like passing through the threshold of your back door and feeling the weight of the world leave your shoulders.

Eddie’s tender touch feels like coming home.

As Eddie kisses you unhurriedly like he’s savoring every brush of tongues and smack of lips, your fingers wrap around his wrist where he still supports your head, thumb stroking against the firm veins on its tender underside. And he was right— it takes very little time for your bodies to dry in the heat, though the water in his hair lingers. Damp and cold, it brushes against your cheeks; you try to ignore the tickle, but after some time you huff sharply through your nose, pulling your lips from his with a wet pop. “Your mane’s a menace, Ed,” you say dryly, huffing again when he grabs the ends of his curls and tickles them across your neck. You scrunch your head to your shoulder, giggling through your protest. “Stop that! Be nice!”

Eddie grins, sticky and thick again. “I am being nice,” he murmurs, dropping his hair and cupping the back of your neck to pull you closer as he descends on your lips more intently now. He rolls you over onto your back, and his hair becomes nothing more than a vague nuisance as Eddie’s kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, nipping and sucking on their path downward to draw out little breathy moans and sighs from you. He kisses from your throat to your clavicle, from the valley of your breasts to the edge of your ribs, his cold curls dragging against your nipples as he travels lower on your body. You watch him with curiosity as his lips trail over your belly button and down to your hips before he finally settles between your legs, which part only enough to make the barest amount of room for him. He glances up at you, thumb ghosting over your curls. "Can I taste you here?” he asks, eyes dark like liquid smoke, pupils nearly swallowing the iris. He stifles a groan in his throat as he looks back down, rasping, “Bet you taste so sweet."

The suggestion feels distinctly naughty, and you rush with mortification at the idea, but above that is the hunger and the heat tinged with unmistakable excitement. “Okay,” you say, voice small, and Eddie rests his chin lightly against your pubic bone, folding his arms across your hips, very clearly ready to wait and follow your direction.

Gently, he tells you, “If you don't like how it feels or want me to stop, just say the word, okay? I mean it.”

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling in a smile as your chest flutters. “Okay, I will.”

“Okay.” Eddie nods, his chin dragging against your skin as he unfolds his arms and looks down again. More hoarsely, he says, “You’re gonna have to spread your legs.”

Slowly, you do, heart thumping as your thighs peel apart and you expose yourself to his gaze. You want to squirm in discomfort with how intently he’s looking at you, but the heat on Eddie’s face, the unadulterated excitement and want that shines in his eyes as his plush lips fall open, is undeniably thrilling. You suck in a tiny gasp when his breath ghosts hot against that intimate place, a whimper escaping at the anticipation of his mouth on you. And then there’s the faintest brush of his wet tongue, snaking just slightly between your lips; you hiccup and moan, thighs twitching against his shoulders.

“S’it ok?” Eddie’s voice puffs against your heated flesh, cooling the place he’d just licked, and you exhale shakily, pushing out your confirmation.

“Y-yes,” you say, and after a brief pause, Eddie licks you again, and again, moving his tongue more boldly with each pass. He tips his chin down, lengthening the strokes of his tongue, dragging low to high for the first time; he groans deep in his throat, and you jolt as it buzzes against your lips. “Knew it,” he mutters to himself, voice tight with desire, and you moan as he wiggles his face in closer to you, his nose parting your folds.

It feels so good, his mouth on your special place; it begins to satisfy the hunger inside you in a way you’ve never felt before, not even when you’d dragged yourself against his thigh. You relax into the feeling as he laps at you, wet tongue broad and flat as it drags against your pussy, sparking pleasure with each pass. And the sight of his curly head between your thighs makes you bloom warm over your whole body, your belly buzzing for more, more, more.

“Eddie,” you moan, unable to fully articulate your desire but attempting to in the way his name falls so hot and sweet from your tongue. “I want you, Eddie, please…”

He lifts his face from between your legs to press feverish kisses up your slit to the top of your mound. You tense when he digs his nose into your curls and inhales there, breathing deeply against your hair and skin. A whimper eeks from your lips as you squirm inside with self-consciousness, legs tensed to remain still. You worry suddenly about how you must smell, how the August heat and the creek may have made you unpleasant in some way. But when Eddie’s chest rises and falls with a heavy, contented sigh, and he wraps his arms beneath the backs of your thighs, your self-consciousness fades; when he nuzzles against your curls, dragging his cheek along your mound so affectionately, you positively melt.

“Are you sure?” Eddie murmurs, lifting his head to peek up at you. You push onto an elbow, and he kisses the pudge of your tummy as it folds when you sit up. Smiling softly, you tuck his curls behind his ear, touch lingering against the side of his face.

“Yes,” you say, so light and delicate but oh, so sincere, “Eddie, I really want it. I want you to…” you trail off, biting your lip. His eyes darken.

“You want me to fuck you,” Eddie says, voice hoarsened but also sticky and thick and sinfully sweet like honey. You rush with feeling all over again— shock at his language, mortification at the crudeness of it, but also thrilling anticipation that tingles low in your belly, mixing with the heat and tightening to an aching need. You nod, gasping, “Yes. Yes, I want you to do that.”

Eddie’s moan rumbles low in his throat, and you feel it against your inner thighs where they’re pressed against his chest. He drops one last hasty kiss to your belly before unwrapping his arms from around you. You lay back against the blanket as he climbs up your body, spreading your legs so he can settle between them. Your brow pinches when he mounts you, his pelvis pressing flush with the juncture of your hips and his hardness wedged between you. He stares down at you, and the curtain of his thick curls seems to conceal the two of you from the rest of the world; the cicadas and the creek fall away as you meet his eyes.

His face is flushed, his lips swollen and wet, but his eyes are wide with concern when he shifts his weight to one hand to stroke back your hair with the other. "It might hurt at first," he says, voice soft, and you nod.

"I know," you reply, and he traces the side of your face with his thumb before lowering from his hands to brace his weight on his forearms. You take a shaky breath as his belly brushes yours with his new proximity, your vision filled only with Eddie’s pretty face.

"But,” he continues, “I'll take care of you, okay?" He shimmies his hands under your shoulders, tucking you closer to him, and as your bodies press lightly together, you can feel him trembling. "I'll take such good care of you,” he rasps, “Always will."

Your breath hitches in your chest, lungs burning as you well up with some emotion. Not hunger, not desire, but something more poignant. Something soft, like the down of a feather.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you say, and your hand trails up his back, tracing the warmth of his skin almost reverently as you lift your chin to kiss him softly.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, voice wavering as he sways his hips, untucking one hand from beneath your shoulder to reach down between you. You spread your legs wider as you feel that stiffness shift, poking against you as he maneuvers it down to line up with your entrance.

Eddie kisses your lips so tenderly, and he pushes in slowly, so slowly, but nothing he could do could prevent the pain you feel when the head of his cock pops inside your entrance. He freezes as you gasp sharply at the intrusion, your lips clamping tight in a belated effort not to alarm him, though the crease in your brow tells the whole story. Eddie looks pained to see you in pain; he rains kisses down on your face, and you tangle your fingers in his damp hair to ground you as he waits until you’ve relaxed to begin moving again. As soon as he does, though, the sharp sting returns; it continues as a burning and insistent pain while Eddie stretches you open in a way you’ve never felt before.

He starts and stops as many times as you need until his hips are flush with yours and he’s seated fully inside. He’s panting, one hand fisted in the blanket as he tries to stay so perfectly still, wincing and murmuring against your hair, "Aw, hell… I'm sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry it hurts… Don't wanna hurt you—"

You whimper, tucking your face against his neck, and he strokes soothingly up and down your waist with his other hand until your body has adjusted and the burn has faded to a barely a pinch. You kitten lick the salt from his throat, and you enjoy the way he shivers. “I'm ready, now, Ed.”

He lifts his head to examine your expression. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you reply, and after a moment where his eyes dart back and forth between yours as if to check for any hesitation. He rocks his hips slightly, not pulling out, just testing to see how you respond to him moving. When you sigh with relief, he sighs with relief; when he rocks again, and you bite your lower lip, he swipes along his with a tiny dart of his pink tongue; and when you buck your hips up lightly against him, Eddie groans deep in his throat, a guttural sound of deep want that makes your chest rush hot and your nipples prickle up tight.

Eddie fucks you languidly in the heavy August heat, the chorus of cicadas blending with the soft moans and panting breaths you hush against one another’s faces. Your bodies slowly grow slick with sweat again as you move together, lips exploring lips, hands exploring skin, the steady, even rocking of his hips predictable and soothing. The slide of Eddie’s warm skin against yours, the rasp of his hair, the slick of his hot mouth against your lips, and the pressure of his hard cock inside you all build until you begin to tingle low in your belly again. As you sigh and whimper against his mouth, licking against his teeth, Eddie pushes in suddenly deep, pressing his pelvis tightly to yours and rotating his hips. Your breath catches as the head of his cock brushes against a spot that makes that tingling tighten. "Yeah?” he husks, his lips brushing yours, “That feel good?"

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, “please, don't stop.” Eddie keeps circling his hips slowly, pressing tight and groaning in satisfaction as you wrap your arms around his back, seeking to be closer. When you rotate your hips in time with his, his pubic hair rubs sparks against that sensitive spot above your opening. You whine open-mouthed, eyes heavy and glazed as you stare into his, rubbing your nose against the damp skin of his cheek.

He nudges into your touch, murmuring, “You want more?”

“Yes,” you pant. “More.” But when he stops circling his hips, falling still, you're quick to pout, protesting with a frown, “That's the opposite of more—”

His hips jolt back and forward suddenly and sharply, and your back arches as he punches a moan out of you, cutting off your protest. He smirks knowingly as you cling to him, fingernails scrabbling for purchase on his sweaty back. He begins fucking you at this faster pace, a little rougher than before, and it is the more you wanted. It's more, more, more.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie grunts, “you feel so good inside. So tight and warm.” You whimper at his words, blooming with heat as he adds, “Wanted to do this for so long.”

You manage a question even under the onslaught of his pounding, desperate as you are to know the answer. “H-How long?”

Eddie’s hips falter slightly, continuing more slowly as his adam’s apple bobs. He hesitates for a moment before answering, “Since the Fourth of July party at the Byers’ when you wore that new dress.”

You scrape your teeth against your lower lip, looking up at him with big eyes, and his head falls to your shoulder as he chuckles wryly, his hips stilling entirely. “Aw, hell. Y’look at me like that, and I can’t…” Eddie huffs, and you shiver as it puffs hot and damp against your neck. Without lifting his head, more quietly, he says, “Wanted to be with you like this ‘lot longer than that, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You burst with flutters at the revelation— low in your belly, high in your chest, tingling in your fingertips, tightening in your scalp. The feeling is hot and hungry, soft like feathers. You gasp a shaky breath to reply in a whisper that wavers with the depth of your emotion. “Me too.”

Eddie’s moan is broken and vulnerable as he presses a hot, urgent kiss to your throat, trailing desperately up to your mouth. He cups your face, fingers pressing in against your cheeks as his hips begin to slap with fleshy smacks against your spread thighs, his cock moving hard and hot and insistent deep inside you. And more than ever before, that feeling— the hunger, the coil in your belly, the heat between your legs— is building to something new, something intense, something that looms over you as it begins to tighten and tingle between your hips.

It scares you.

Your hands flutter and tap at Eddie’s shoulders as you whimper his name differently from before. "Eddie. Eddie—"

The urgency in your voice gives him pause, and his hips fall instantly still as he cups your face, tilting your chin up as his eyes dart over you restlessly. “What’s wrong, turtle dove?”

Your heart leaps at the nickname, and he must see the way your eyes soften because his fingertips draw gentle and featherlight along your brow, a touch of comfort and reassurance. "I don't know what's happening. I feel... strange."

His alarm is instant. “Does it hurt?” He asks, tinged with urgent distress. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, no," you soothe your palm along his jaw, and he lists into the heel of your hand when you cup his cheek. His concern makes you rush warm with pleasure in a different way. "It feels… I think it feels good," you clarify, feeling strangely ashamed like you shouldn't be talking about this. "But it's just… odd, I guess."

Eddie’s face softens to match yours. "It's okay, it's supposed to feel that way.”

Uncertainly, voice small, you ask, “You promise?”

Eddie pulls from your hand cradling his cheek to mash his nose to the side of yours, and the huff of his chuckle brushes sweetly over your lips. It's not exasperated or amused. It's nothing but fond. Almost, you’d say, if you didn't know better... almost loving. "I promise. Never led you astray yet, have I?"

“Well—” you start to hedge, but when he pokes your cheek aggressively with his nose, you give up the game and giggle. “No, you never have,” you say, and it’s not teasing, not wry. It's nothing but fond. Almost, you'd say, if you didn't know better... almost loving.

Something shifts then as Eddie begins to move inside you again. There’s a certain inevitability to it as his hips pound into yours, his cock pumping hard inside you as you rock your hips to meet him. “Wanna make you feel so good, turtle dove,” he tells you, and you drink in the sound of his voice. You feel dazed, drunk, almost, entirely caught up in the feeling of Eddie all around you, inside you, tangled not just with and in your body but also with your soul.

“It does feel good,” you tell him, voice soft and thick with feminine desire. “Feels so good, Eddie.”

Your encouragement spurs him on; his hips pump harder, his breath harshening with the effort. The inevitability grows more imminent as you feel the evidence of his exertion— the slick of his sweaty chest against your breasts and his tummy sticking to yours, the way the unrelenting rhythm of his hips begins to falter just slightly. “I’m getting close.” You look up at him, and his eyes are wide and hazy, his bangs clinging wetly to his forehead— it’s pink, with one vein throbbing over his left brow. You’re thinking idly of licking along that vein when Eddie interrupts you with a husky question. “You wanna take my seed?"

Caught up in him entirely, you can envision only one answer. You moan at the idea, nodding frantically. "Yes, please, please, Eddie—"

He groans gutturally at your enthusiasm. "Shit, yes. Gonna fill you and fuck it up into you all deep—"

You whine at the filthiness of it, the forbiddenness of it, but mostly with a deep yearning for him to possess you entirely, for him to spill inside and for you to know that, even when he pulls out of your body, some of him will linger for longer.

Eddie’s forehead dips to yours, pressing against it lightly, and you pant into his mouth. You keep your eyes open and wide, wanting to see everything— every fleck of gold and brown in his eyes, every pore, every freckle, every strand of hair in his brows, every line at the corner of his eyes. Every tiny detail of his beloved face. You watch that face start to twitch and contort, and you thrill deep in your chest. “Ed, are you about to—?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… oh, fuck—” he whines into your mouth and you gather him closer, tangling your hands in his curls as he huffs and his hips press tight against your thighs. You swallow his stuttered groan like it’s the only sustenance you need as Eddie reaches the pinnacle of his pleasure.

There’s a burst of reciprocal pleasure low in your belly when you feel him pulse and spill inside you, and as the rocking of his hips slows, your burning need and pleasure fade to a pleasant buzzing warmth. You’ve not reached that pinnacle yourself, but you are content nonetheless as Eddie falls still, panting and spent in your arms. You are sweaty, hot, and sticky in a way that would, in any other context, have you grumbling and seeking relief. But here, with Eddie’s heavy weight on top of you, his arms curling around your body to hold you close to him, and his cock softening inside you, you couldn’t muster a grumble if you tried.

Eddie rolls you onto your sides but doesn’t relinquish his grip on you, and you hold one another other until his seed starts to leak between your thighs. You stir then, and he looks down at you as you glance towards your tangled legs, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I should wash up,” you say quietly, and reluctantly, Eddie loosens his arms so you can rise and pad over to the edge of the water.

You’re about to crouch to cup water in your palms when a broad hand finds the small of your back, the light touch almost reverent. “Let me,” Eddie says quietly behind you; you turn, looking up into his face as he offers to cleanse you of his seed. That poignant welling of emotion, soft like the down of feathers, fills you toe to tip as he gets on his knees before you, cupping water in his palms and gently washing your sticky folds until your skin has been thoroughly cleansed.

Eddie Munson washes you off between your legs in the creek, and it feels almost more intimate than having relations with him.

When he straightens up, you make to walk back toward the blanket, but when he lingers near the water’s edge without following, you pause and look at him curiously. Eddie pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, fidgeting as his eyes flick between yours before the words burst out of him.

“Y’know you're my girl now, right? If you wanna be,” he adds quickly, and the blush of his cheeks, the sudden sheepish nervousness in his expression tugs at your heart.

But it’s such a silly question— if you wanna be.

Of course, you wanna be his girl. You’ve coveted Eddie Munson’s attention since he was that eight-year-old boy, odd and awkward, gangly and wild, your new neighbor next door. You’ve yearned to know him and be known by him as deeply as a best friend can, and now you’ve begun to know him in a way that, somehow, feels even more right than that.

You’ve wanted to be Eddie Munson’s girl for what feels like your whole life, now, or close to it.

“Yes,” you say, sticky and sweet and so utterly enamored with the boy standing beneath the willow at the edge of the creek. “I’ll be your girl, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie beams so bright and beautiful that your breath shudders in your chest, a poignant squeezing of your ribcage that only intensifies as he says with reverence, almost like he can’t believe it, “You belong to me, and I belong to you.”

You kiss him again, wrapping him up in your arms as he sways you happily back and forth. You wish it would last forever, but with a lurch in your belly, you realize the light casting Eddie’s curls in a deep amber glow is more than golden now— it's edging on orange. Hastily, you pull against his grip, and he releases you as you groan with dismay, “Aw, hell, Ed. We gotta race the sunset!” You bounce on the balls of your feet, shaking your hands by your sides as anxiety tangles in the pit of your stomach. “Mama’ll skin me alive if I’m not back before sundown!”

Eddie’s eyes dart to the sky, widening with equal alarm. “We’ll make it,” he says breathlessly, “I got the horses, just get your clothes on!” He lurches around the willow while you rush to the blanket to pull on your rumpled chemise and button your dress, smoothing your hair and slipping on your shoes just as he’s miraculously finished saddling both horses, already dressed. You’re impressed until you hurry closer and realize Eddie’s suspenders are twisted thrice each and his shirt is buttoned one-off from the top.

You sigh and tug him closer by the trousers, and he stumbles as you briskly unwind his suspenders and rebutton his shirt.

“Much obliged,” Eddie pants breathlessly, his lips curled in a delighted smile as you tend to him. His beam widens when you duck your head, going shy under the intensity of his gaze; Eddie cups your cheeks and kisses you wild and hard, leaving you dazed for a moment as he hoists himself deftly onto Merlin’s saddle. “Betcha I’ll beat you back,” he says, towering above you atop his giant horse— your best friend, roguish and mischievous, clever and brash, beautiful in the deepening light.

A wicked grin blooms on your lips as you look up at him, grasping hold of Guinnie’s mane and cantle to pull yourself up smoothly beside him. “Betcha you won’t,” you counter, and with a squeeze of your thighs, you rise to the challenge.

You ride Guinnie hard and fast through the forest, racing Eddie until you both burst together from the treeline onto the field at the edge of Mr. Hopper’s property. In the distance, you can see the tall fence that separates your farmstead from his, the red house that he calls home sticking from the earth beside the blue shingles of your own, in permanent company with one another. You expect Eddie to call the game over now, but he tosses a smirk over his shoulder at you, his curls whipping as Merlin rears and gallops on, spurred by a whoop of boyish delight.

Your legs will be sore tomorrow, and between your legs will be sore too. But as the sun sets on this August day and you ride through the fields, chasing the young man you cherish, and the bugs erupt in puffs like clouds from the tall grass, you’ve never felt so known, nor so damn alive.

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stop-talking · 3 months

Text

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 4)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.4k words + 300 word epilogue

Tags: 18+, mike x fem reader, no use of y/n, exes, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, pet names, banter, angst, fluff, comfort, happy ending.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Mike sits at his kitchen table, trying not to nod off into his cereal. Today is a quiet day. A lazy day. His one day off.

Except, not really. There's always work to be done. He just has to figure out what today's work would be. He's caught up on laundry and dishes, the house isn't too much of a mess... Hm. Maybe he should finally fix the dripping pipe in the bathroom. Or the living room window that's been stuck for years. Or one of the million other things wrong with his house.

He sighs and goes to take a bite of his cereal, only to realize he forgot the milk. Damn it. When he opens the fridge, he stands face to face with a little blue dolphin stuffed animal. Right... Abby's still testing him. He leaves it alone, she'll see it when she gets home from school and assume her "spell" still works. Pfft.

Mike nearly drops the milk mid-pour when he hears the phone ring.

*click.*

"Hello?" He mumbles groggily, a little annoyed to have his morning brooding interrupted.

"Hey, Mike? You free at all today?"

He immediately perks up at the sound of your voice. It's been two days since he last saw you, and he honestly wasn't sure if you'd ever speak to him again.

"Yeah, uh... It's my day off, actually."

"Good. I'm using that 2nd favor."

Mike's heart races. If this favor is going to be anything like the last one, he was definitely up for it.

"Oh? Missing me already, sweetheart?"

"As if. I need you to build me a shelf."

A shelf? Well, that was unexpected. Hm. Better than nothing.

"What, like build it from scratch? Are you expecting me to buy the boards, or-"

"No. I have all the pieces. It just needs to be assembled."

"You can't assemble a shelf?" Mike scoffs, but secretly he's pleased. Sounds like you just want an excuse to have him over.

"Mike. You know I'm no good with tools."

No, he didn't know that actually. Liar. You definitely just wanted to see him again. God, he felt giddy.

"Mhm. Sure."

"Just get your ass over here, Schmidt."

"Woah, what's with the attitude, Princess? I'm here to help." He can't help but let some smugness seep into his tone. Okay, more than some. He's a cocky bastard and he knows it.

"I've been working on the damn thing all morning. Almost three hours now. Not in the mood, jackass."

Shit. You sounded sincere. And really pissed off. Then again, what kind of a shelf took three hours to assemble? The fuck was it? A jigsaw puzzle?

"Alright, alright. I'll be over soon. See ya."

Mike slumps against the counter as you grumble something incoherent and slam the phone down. Damn, what is he getting himself into this time?

Only one way to find out.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike finally arrives at your apartment half an hour later, he feels a bit silly. He put on a nice shirt and trousers to come see you, and here you are in sweats and a baggy t-shirt. Figures.

"Call for a handyman?" He greets you with a teasing smile, holding up his old rusted toolbox as he makes his way inside.

"Pfft. Someone's happy to see me."

Mike can't really say anything to that, so he doesn't try. He is happy to see you, even if you have attitude problems and dress like a bum.

"So, I bought the damn thing from a friend-of-a-friend, who got it at a garage sale. I swear, it has to be missing some parts or something, because-"

He nods as you rattle on and lead him to your bedroom, but he's only half-listening. He looks around your apartment, taking it all in. It's been at least six months since he last came over, probably longer. It doesn't look to have changed much. He likes your apartment. It's cozy.

"Anyways... can you fix it?"

Mike pauses in the doorway of your bedroom as you give him a sheepish smile and gesture to something in the corner.

Holy hell. Is that supposed to be a shelf? Mike can't help but think that the hideous agglomeration of boards and screws would only be good as a fire-starter. It looks more like a pile than a shelf.

"Uhh..." He bites his cheek, desperately trying not to burst into a fit of laughter. Maybe you really weren't lying about the whole "no good with tools" thing.

He finally loses it when you groan and flop down on the bed, hiding your face in a pillow.

"Ughh... Laugh at me, whatever. Just fix it."

"Jesus Christ. This has to be the sorriest excuse for a shelf I've ever seen. Sure you don't want me to haul it to the junkyard instead?" He snorts, sitting down on the edge of your bed and looking with disdain at the half-assedly assembled shelf.

Mike immediately shuts his mouth when you glare at him. Oops, right, you're in a bad mood.

"I mean, uh... you tried?" He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. He still can't believe you're actually this inept when it comes to assembly.

"Get to work, Schmidt."

Mike yelps as you kick him off the bed, but doesn't bother retaliating. He just grabs his toolbox and sits on the floor, examining the so-called "shelf".

"Well, the first step is going to be un-doing everything you did."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You lie on your stomach in bed, chin propped up on your hands as you kick your feet in the air and ponder the sight before you. Mike's back is turned to you as he quietly works away taking apart the monstrosity you assembled.

"How long is this gonna take?"

"Well, If it wasn't so..." He trails off, glancing at you and choosing his words more carefully.

"...sturdy, it'd be a lot easier to take apart."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

He gives you an incredulous look and gestures to a series of nails in a corner where two boards meet. It does look pretty ridiculous, the sharp ends pointing out the other side. Not your best work.

"You put nails in it, sweetheart." He scoffs.

"How else was I supposed to keep it together?" You give him your best pout, and gloat internally when he has to turn away. He's absolutely infatuated with you. Even the back of his neck is pink.

"It comes with screws for a reason, ya know."

"There's a difference?"

He turns and gives you a flat look, and you laugh. Damn. You can play dumb with him, but maybe not that dumb. Noted.

Still, it's a little boring just laying there and watching him grumble and pull nails from wood. You can't really mess with him too much either, because you really do what him to fix the stupid shelf.

"You want something to drink?" You finally break the silence, under the guise of trying to be a good hostess.

"Pfft. Need some whiskey to deal with this bullshit." He snorts, pulling yet another nail free. He'd almost gotten one board off. One. This was gonna take a while.

"I was thinking more along the lines of soda or tea."

"Jack and Coke, then?"

"Mike. It's hardly past noon."

"So?" He scoffs. "For me, this is like... evening, or something. I dunno. Sleep schedule's fucked with this new job."

That answer makes you pause.

"What is it you do now, anyway?"

He groans, finally prying one of the boards free of the clusterfuck.

"Night guard. Told you already, remember?" He tries to shrug the question off, but you're nosy.

"Where?"

"Uhh... Freddy Fazbear's Pizza..."

"Speak up."

"Ugh. It's this stupid rundown hellhole pizzeria. Honestly dunno why anyone would wanna break in there anyways. It's a dump."

"What kind of a pizzeria needs a night guard? Or any guard?"

"The haunted kind."

You decide not to ask about that, simply shaking your head as you walk to the door. He's truly a loon. A loveable loon, unfortunately.

"Just tell me what you want to drink, Mikey, or I'm getting you water."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Mike sits on the floor of your bedroom sipping his glass of water and wondering how he got here. If you'd told him a week ago he'd be building his witch of an ex-girlfriend a shelf, he would've gagged. Now...? Well, he just wants to go join you on that bed.

"So are you really just gonna sit there and look pretty while I do all the work?"

"Aww, you think I'm pretty, Mikey? You smile, lying on the bed with your feet kicking in the air, giving him a look of pure adoration. It wasn't hard to do.

"Pretty annoying, yeah." He turns away with a scoff, returning to his work. If only he could get this stupid nail untangled from the other two... why would anyone use this many nails?

"You know, I think I liked you better gagged."

"Oh I know, sweetheart. I could see it in those evil eyes of yours." He can't help but smirk a bit at the comment, though. Sometimes he liked himself better gagged, too. He shakes the thought away and keeps working.

"Why can't you just get on hands and knees and beg me to take you back already?" You huff dramatically and roll over onto your back, letting your head fall over the edge of the bed. He looks silly from this angle. Upside-down.

That question nearly makes Mike drop his tools. Were you serious?

"Why? So you can laugh me off again?"

Ouch. It was true you'd turned him down the last time he'd tried it, but that was six months ago.

"Maybe if you used those big brown puppy eyes of yours on me."

That only earns you a grunt, so you verbally prod him again.

"Besides, why can't I do both? Laugh at you, then take you back? Sounds fun."

"Pfft. Fun? To toy with me? You'd probably break up with me all over again just for shits and giggles." He responds bitterly, still refusing to turn around.

"Mikey. Look at me." You roll back over onto your stomach and rest your chin in your hands as he slowly meets your gaze.

"I didn't break up with you just for shits and giggles. You know that. I'm not letting you sit there and wallow in self-pity."

Mike goes stiff from your words, but your tone is soft, and your eyes even softer. You're still giving him that adoring look. Damn it.

"Well maybe I'd rather wallow in self pity than admit you were right all along."

"You've had six months to wallow. Grow a pair and come kiss me."

He can't say no to that. Not when you look at him that way. He shuffles over, kneeling by the side of your bed. On his knees for you again, damnit.

You kiss him. It's different from the lustful, sloppy kiss you shared last time. This one makes you feel warm. You kiss him again. And again.

Mike really doesn't want this to end, but the knot in his stomach forces him to pull away. He has to ask.

"Why? Why are you doing this, I mean? Do you really want... to take me back?" He sputters, looking down at the floor.

"I'm not completely sure yet." You answer honestly, shifting and lying back on the bed.

Damn. That's not the answer he wanted to hear.

"Are you-"

"Come here."

When you pat the spot next to you in bed, Mike melts. He's a wreck right now, but still wants nothing more than to be with you, in every sense of the word. He silently complies.

"It's not about right and wrong, you know. As much as I love being told I'm right." You give him a soft smile, breaking the silence and placing your hand on top of his as you both lie on your sides.

Damn it. He'd done this with you before, this and so much more. Why was such a small touch turning him to goo?

"What isn't?"

"The breakup. It's about growing as a person. As people. Both of us." You lace your fingers with his, and can't help but laugh as his face reaches a level of pink you've never seen before.

"And what exactly am I supposed to be growing out of?"

"Pfft. I don't know, the emotional unavailability? The way you never made time for me? Constant irritability?" You start to dramatically list off his flaws, using your free hand to count on your fingers.

"Okay, okay. I get it." He huffs, and grabs your hand before you can make fun of him more. Instead, he guides it to his side, pulling you in a little closer.

"And you're miss perfect?"

"No. 'Course not. I have flaws too." You give him a sly smile, and start listing your own "faults".

"Too hot and sexy, too intelligent, too kind, amazing, sweet and caring..."

That's as far as you get before Mike scoots closer, burying his face in your neck and giving you a playful nip.

"Too arrogant." He adds with a laugh, wrapping his arm around you and letting himself melt further into you.

"My arrogance is one of my best qualities, thank you." You reply haughtily, sliding your hand up his back and into his hair.

Mike couldn't speak, even if he could somehow find the right words to say. Everything in this moment felt so right. His arm around you. Your fingers in his hair. He lets out a soft groan instead.

You aren't exactly eager to let go of this moment either, and just hold him for a few minutes. It feels nice to play with his soft brown curls.

"I'll do better. Please." He finally mumbles something to you, not bothering to move his face from where it's buried in the crook of your neck.

"Please what, Mikey?"

"Take me back."

He finally pulls back, just enough to give you a glimpse of those puppy eyes of his. Damn it. How could you even think of saying no?

"Yeah. Okay."

You both lean in for another round of soft passionate kisses, and Mike feels himself relax completely. His stomach unknots and his mind goes numb. For the first time in months, he feels completely safe.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"So does this mean you'll babysit for me again?"

"Go finish the shelf, Schmidt."

"Yes, Princess."

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♡ Epilogue ♡

Over the past few weeks, you and Mike had fallen into a sort of rhythm.

He never did end up finding a new babysitter, and besides, you're the only one who could ever get Abby to finish her dinner. You had to graduate her from daily witching lessons to weekly ones, though, convincing her she needed to study for the more advanced spells. Secretly, Mike was just losing track of which objects in his house were supposedly invisible. It was quite amusing to watch.

Mike's favorite part of the day was coming home to you already asleep in his bed, and waking you up with a kiss. He'd then either lie down in bed while you shower, or hop in there with you, depending on how you felt. Either way, he loved the view.

The conflicting schedules made things complicated, but you were able to work around it. Mike slept better with you holding him, and consequentially, was a lot more agreeable. He did his best to make more time for both you and Abby.

He even started to open up to you for once, letting you take on some of his burdens. This man sure had a lot of guilt. You were certain he hadn't yet told you everything, but he told you enough. At least you finally knew what the fucking NEBRASKA poster on the ceiling was for. Now you kind of felt bad for all the times you teased him about it the first time you dated.

As for the damn shelf... well, he finished it. It was still hideous, but it was functional. There were holes in it from the nails, and the wood had even started to splinter in a few spots. You couldn't bring yourself to get rid of it, though. Not after how much work you both put into it. Even if most of Mike's work revolved around un-doing yours.

It definitely wasn't a perfect relationship, not by far. But Mike never promised to be the perfect boyfriend. He just promised to be better.

And he was, bit by bit, every day. Better. ♡

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Author's note:

Thank you all for the love!! This was my first time writing a fanfic of any kind so I'm really happy so many of you enjoyed it. Feels good to bring the story to an end.

Feel free to send me a request, I'd love to write more fics about Mike. Or any other J-hutch character for that matter, Mikey is just my favorite <3

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renardiererin · 9 months

Text

THE GREAT WAR a social media au starring rockstar!rintarou suna, and musician!reader

synopsis -> you used to know rintarou. you knew him back before the world did. you used to know him better than you knew yourself. but nothing perfect ever lasts, does it? after awhile he just stopped responding. you tried to block out every headline you saw featuring his name, and focus on your own music career rather than his own. but when one of his bandmates reaches out to you and asks you to open for their upcoming tour, you find yourself stuck traveling all around the world with the man whose inflicted pain inspired most of your first album.

warnings -> potentially some suggestive content (but no explicit smut), probably some flashback moments, probably alcohol content, swearing, etc.

tags -> smau, social media au, rintarou suna, rintarou suna smau, celebrity smau, rockstar suna, exes to ?, little bits of humor i hope, angst, band au

ongoing! [8/22/23] playlist

profiles

akaashi fanclub / dicks with instruments

table of contents / masterlist *titles may be subject to change along the way !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act i - the act of acceptance 1. my knuckles were bruised like violets

2. i can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye

3. i know we cut all the ties but you never really listen

4. yes i got your letter, yes i'm doing better

5. seeing you tonight... it's a bad idea, right?

6. love is never logical

7. when facing the things we turn away from

8. i wanna get him back (i want sweet revenge; i want him again)

9. we had matching wounds

10. did you see me on tv?

11. put my name at the top of your list

12. i’ve gotten what i wanted, it’s just not what i imagined

13. none of it matters and none of it ends, you just feel like shit over and over again

14. stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act ii - the act of love and loss 1. still all over me like a white stained dress i can't wear anymore

2. the small things that you do are what remind me why i fell for you

3. don't just sit in front of me and wait for me to talk

4. flashback: i was only 17 when she first made me feel like a man

5. i don't wanna face the music but i still wanna dance with you

6. i can see you saying: "meet me tonight"

7. you, oh you, it's always been you

8. i'm captivated by you baby like a firework show

9. imma make a move, if you know what i mean

10. jump then fall into you

11. your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in

12. you told me you love me, so why did you go away?

13. i lived in your chess game

14. when i'm nothing new

15. i hate that because of you i can't love you

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙 act iii - the act of isolation and irritability 1. i know that i should hate you

2. when did it end? all the enjoyment?

3. falling feels like flying til the bone crush

4. flashback: for awhile you were all mine

5. i hope you're not happy without me

6. i love you but i need another year alone

7. i didn't have it in myself to go with grace

8. flashback: when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave

9. come back to me like you could if you'd just say you're sorry

10. i try to ignore it everytime you phone... but i never come close

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act iv - the act of reconciliation 1. you used a fork once

2. you will love me until you resent me

3. i wish you knew that i'll never forget you as long as i live

4. i miss you too much to be mad anymore

5. can't turn back now i'm haunted

6. if you're out there if you're somewhere if you're moving on

7. you can hear it on the way home

8. this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

9. don't want no other shade of blue but you

10. until the poets run out of rhymes

11. i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck

12. this love came back to me

13. what if i told you i'm a mastermind?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act v - the act of the epilogue 1. outside they're push and shoving / you're in the kitchen humming

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a/n: hii okay i haven't written an smau in literal years so im just hoping this doesn't suck and that you can enjoy it :) mwah i love each and every one of you who is reading this note & this smau rn <3 thank you all my loves !

taglist

@kiyoily @akumakitsune21 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @dani-shitting-around @alienvarmint @reverie-starlight @honeythebarbie @bootlegroach @tsukiran @xbl00dy-r0s3x @universal-s1ut @koushisbabie @breakmyheartlater @phoenix-eclipses @ris-krispie @coyloves @2baddies-1porsche @girlkissersco @ilovejujitsukaisen @dontmindtheevie

taglist is open <33 comment here to be added !

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theetherealbloom · 16 days

Text

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM - CH.3

Chapter 3: Dutiful Daughter, All My Plans Were Laid

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking Around, FLUFF, LOTS OF SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Oral Fem Receiving, Kissing, Barely any plot, NOT A SLOW BURN AT ALL, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content, Size Kink, Reader is “smaller” than Joel but no further descriptions, Breeding Kink, PWP (wrap it up), Body worship, declaring their love for each other,

Word Count: 10k

A/N: THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU… UHM, HI! We’re nearing the end of the mini-series. I believe I have one or two more chapters to write and then we’ll have the epilogue. Thank you for all the comments, reblogs and likes! I look forward to reading all the feedback from ya’ll, it really does give me the motivation to write. Thank you all again!!! 🤍☺️

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As you lay there, wrapped in Joel's arms, you can't help but steal a glance at the small alarm clock on the nightstand. The glowing numbers tell you that it's nearly 3am, and as much as you don't want to leave the warmth of his bed and his embrace, you know that you can't stay forever.

Your dad is expecting you for breakfast in just a few hours, and the thought of him having a heart attack if you don't show up is enough to make you sit up and take notice.

"I don't wanna leave," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you snuggle closer to Joel, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin.

"I don't wanna let you go," Joel replies, his accent thick and heavy as he tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer still.

You can feel the heat of his body, the strength of his muscles, and the warmth of his embrace, and you know that you could stay there forever, wrapped up in him.

But reality calls, and you know that you can't ignore it forever.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," you say, your voice filled with longing and sadness.

"Me too, darlin'," Joel replies, his voice filled with emotion. "But we both know that we can't."

You nod, your heart heavy with the weight of the decision you both know you have to make.

"I guess I should get going," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I guess you should," Joel replies, his voice filled with regret.

As you reluctantly pull away from Joel, he surprises you by gently tugging you back into his embrace, his lips seeking yours in a kiss that is both passionate and intense. The taste of him lingers on your lips, a bittersweet reminder of the connection you share.

With a soft sigh, you finally gather the strength to untangle yourself from his arms, a pang of longing tugging at your heart as you begin to get dressed. Joel watches you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, his southern drawl adding a soothing cadence to his words.

"Let me help you, darlin'," Joel offers, his voice warm and comforting as he assists you with your clothes, his touch gentle yet possessive. The intimacy of the moment lingers in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you share.

Once you're dressed, Joel's arms wrap around you, holding you close as if reluctant to let you go. His embrace is both clingy and sweet, a silent plea for you to stay a little longer, to prolong the inevitable parting.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Joel murmurs, his voice filled with longing. "I could hold you like this forever."

You lean into his embrace, savoring the warmth and security he provides. "I wish I could stay too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion. "But I have to go."

As you prepare to leave, Joel's gaze lingers on you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and regret. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of his affection and devotion.

"I'll be counting the minutes until I can see you again," Joel says, his voice filled with sincerity. "You mean everything to me, darlin'."

As you step out onto Joel's front porch, the cool night air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his embrace. You take a deep breath, savoring the scent of the night, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision to leave.

You make your way quietly and quickly to the back of your house, tiptoeing through the darkness, your mind filled with thoughts of Joel and the intense connection you share. As you slip back into your bedroom, you can't help but feel a sense of bliss and excitement, knowing that you'll see Joel again in just a few short hours.

The anticipation builds within you, a simmering heat that courses through your veins, fueled by the memories of your time together. You can't wait to feel his touch again, to lose yourself in the passion and intensity of your connection.

As you lay in bed, your mind drifts to thoughts of Joel, his drawl echoing in your mind, his words of love and devotion filling your heart with warmth and joy. You know that what you have together is special, a bond that goes beyond mere physical attraction.

You close your eyes, drifting off to sleep with a smile on your face, your dreams filled with the promise of a future filled with passion and love.

As the morning sunlight streams through your window, you wake up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, the memories of the previous night still fresh in your mind. You can't wait to see Joel again, to feel his arms around you, to lose yourself in the intensity of your connection.

With a sense of excitement and anticipation, you get ready for the day, your heart filled with hope and joy, knowing that you have found something truly special in Joel.

You make your way downstairs to find your dad had gotten up extra early today. He glances at you and asks, "Well, someone's happy this morning. Did you sleep well honey?"

"Huh, what? Oh... yeah, I was pretty tired from yesterday so I just kinda passed out," you say, trying to be nonchalant. But you can see your dad give you a suspicious look before taking a long sip of his coffee.

"So... you and Joel..." Your dad begins, and you feel blood rushing into your ears, making you feel dizzy.

You raise your eyebrows at your dad, waiting for him to continue.

He clears his throat and says, "You gonna go with him to pick up Sarah later?"

You nod and smile at the mention of Sarah, "Mhm! I'll text you when we're leaving."

"Alright then, just..." Before your dad could finish that sentence, the doorbell rings, and you watch as your dad moves to the front door. When he opens it, Joel is standing there in a grey tee and those tight jeans with his hands in his pockets.

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him. "Fuck. He looks so good," you think to yourself, your body responding to his presence in a way that you can't control.

"Hey there, darlin'," Joel says, his deep Southern accent sending shivers down your spine.

"Hey," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you take in the sight of him standing on your doorstep.

Your dad has his eyes narrowed between the two of you, before saying, "Be sure to tell Sarah hi for me, I'll be going now."

You and Joel say goodbye, and watch as your dad hops into his car and drives off to work, leaving you alone with Joel.

"I missed you," Joel says, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You melt into his arms, feeling the warmth and strength of his body against yours.

"I missed you too," you reply, your voice filled with longing.

As you pull away, Joel's gaze lingers on you, his eyes filled with desire and affection.

"Let's go pick up Sarah," he says, his voice filled with excitement.

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation as you make your way to the car. The feeling of gratitude for the connection you share with Joel washes over you, knowing that it's something truly special and rare.

As you approach the car, Joel grabs the keys from your hand and gives your ass a playful smack, causing you to jolt in surprise.

"Hey!" you exclaim, looking at him with mock indignation.

Joel's smoldering gaze meets yours, filled with a mischievous glint that makes your heart race.

"Darlin', you just sit back and relax," he drawls in that deliciously Southern accent of his, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm in charge of the driving, and you're in charge of lookin' like a damn goddess."

You can't help but smile at his playful banter, feeling your heart flutter with excitement as you slide into the passenger seat. Joel's eyes follow your every move, and you can't help but feel a little self-conscious under his intense gaze.

As he starts the car, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment and happiness wash over you. The connection you share with him is electric, a magnetic pull that draws you in and makes you feel alive.

With one hand on the steering wheel, Joel reaches out to place his other hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. You let out a soft moan, biting your lip as you feel a spark of desire ignite within you.

"You like that, don't you?" Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "You like when I touch you like this."

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. Joel's touch is intoxicating, making you feel dizzy with desire.

"Good," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because I love touching you, feeling your body respond to my touch. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go."

You lean back in your seat, feeling a sense of contentment and happiness wash over you as Joel's words of love and affection fill your ears.

"So... darlin'... how'd you feel about tellin' Sarah about us?" Joel asks, his Southern accent sending shivers down your spine as he rubs his thumb gently on your thigh.

You play the thought through your mind, considering the implications of sharing your relationship with Sarah.

"You want her to know?" you ask, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Joel nods, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Of course, darlin'. Do you?"

You take a deep breath, thinking it over. "Will she be okay with it?"

Joel smiles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "With you and I? Yeah. To be honest... I talk about you to her... a lot."

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of Joel sharing his feelings for you with Sarah. "Really?"

Joel nods, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on your thigh. "Yeah, darlin'. I can't help it. I'm crazy about you."

You can't help but smile at his words, feeling a sense of belonging and love that you've never experienced before.

"Okay," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's tell her."

Joel's face lights up, his eyes shining with happiness. "Really?"

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation wash over you. "Yeah. I want to share this with her. I want her to know how much you mean to me."

Joel leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand. "Thank you, darlin'. I promise you won't regret it."

As you and Joel make your way to the parking lot of the airport, the anticipation of reuniting with Sarah and Tommy fills the air with excitement. The energy between you and Joel crackles with anticipation as you head towards the arrivals area, scanning the crowd for their familiar faces.

And then, there they are. Sarah and Tommy, standing out in the crowd like beacons of joy. You can't contain your excitement and start waving your arms wildly, practically bouncing up and down with anticipation.

Sarah's eyes light up as she spots you, and she breaks into a wide grin, her steps quickening as she rushes towards you and Joel. Tommy follows closely behind, a smile playing on his lips as he takes in the scene before him.

"Hey, you guys!" Sarah exclaims, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug, her excitement contagious.

Sarah then turns to Joel, her eyes sparkling with joy as she throws her arms around his neck, embracing him with her whole body.

"Hi dad," she says, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

Joel's face lights up at the sight of his daughter, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug.

"I missed you too, baby girl," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, his love for her radiating off of him in waves.

You watch the exchange between Joel and Sarah, feeling a sense of warmth and happiness wash over you. The bond between father and daughter is something special, a testament to the love they share.

Your gaze shifts to Tommy, and you make your way over to him, a friendly smile on your face. You wrap your arms around him in a warm embrace, feeling the strength and warmth of his body against yours.

"Hey there, it's good to see you!" you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine warmth and affection.

Tommy returns your embrace, his arms tightening around you for a moment before releasing you.

"Hey, it's good to see you too!" he replies, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

You take a step back, your hands still resting on his shoulders. "So, how was the flight?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Tommy shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, you know, the usual. Turbulence, crying babies, and the occasional snoring passenger."

You laugh, the sound rich and full. "Sounds like a blast," you say, your voice filled with sarcasm.

Tommy grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, it was. Trust me."

As you all make your way to the car, the banter and teasing flow freely, the shared history and inside jokes adding to the sense of closeness between you.

Joel takes the lead, helping Tommy load his and Sarah's suitcases into the trunk of your car. His strong arms lift the heavy bags with ease, his movements fluid and efficient.

Sarah watches him with a proud smile on her face, her eyes filled with admiration and love.

"Hey dad, can I sit up front with you?" she asks, her voice filled with excitement and hope.

Joel shakes his head, a gentle smile on his face. "Sorry, baby girl. It wouldn't be polite to do that since it's not my car."

Sarah pouts, her bottom lip sticking out in disappointment. "But I want to sit up front with you!"

Joel ruffles her hair affectionately. "I know, but we have to be polite. Maybe next time, okay?"

Sarah nods, her disappointment forgotten as quickly as it appeared. She climbs into the back seat, her eyes sparkling with excitement and joy.

Tommy follows suit, his movements easy and relaxed. He slides into the back seat next to Sarah, a friendly smile on his face.

As you all settle into your seats, the car is filled with laughter and chatter, the shared excitement of the journey ahead palpable in the air.

As Joel navigates the car out of the airport and onto the road leading back to his house, a sense of contentment washes over you. The familiar sights pass by outside the windows, the hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop to the lively conversation inside.

You feel Joel's hand on your upper thigh, his touch warm and reassuring, a silent declaration of his affection for you. Your heart flutters at the intimate gesture, and you steal a glance at him, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.

In the rearview mirror, you catch Tommy raising his eyebrows playfully, a knowing look in his eyes. Sarah, oblivious to the silent exchange, gazes out the window, her expression one of wonder and excitement.

The dynamic in the car is one of comfort and familiarity, each person bringing their own energy to the mix. Joel's presence is a steady anchor, his touch a source of comfort and reassurance. Tommy's playful teasing adds a lightness to the atmosphere, while Sarah's infectious enthusiasm fills the space with joy.

Eventually, you arrive back at Joel's house, the journey from the airport filled with laughter and chatter. As you all step out of the car, you lend a hand to Joel and Tommy, helping them with the suitcases and other items as you all make your way into the house.

Tommy excuses himself to put away his things in the guestroom, while Sarah does the same in her new room. You take the opportunity to help Joel fix up a few snacks for Tommy and Sarah, the two of you working together with ease and familiarity.

As you put the finishing touches on the snacks, you feel Joel's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close. His lips find your neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin as he inhales your scent.

You lean back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The connection between you two is intense, a magnetic pull that draws you closer together.

As Tommy makes his way back into the living room, Joel releases you, a playful smile on his face.

"I see you two found each other," Tommy says with a wink, a teasing glint in his eye.

You feel your face heat up, but Joel just chuckles, his arm draped around your shoulders.

"Can't help it," Joel says with a shrug, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before turning back to Tommy.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye. "You gonna tell Sarah?" he asks, grabbing a potato chip from the ceramic bowl on the counter.

Joel nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, when she gets down here," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Just then, Sarah appears from around the corner, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I knew it! Finally! He's been talking about you non-stop and was an absolute grump for the past few months!" she exclaims, a wide grin spreading across her face.

You feel your cheeks flush at the mention of Joel's infatuation with you, but Sarah's excitement is infectious.

Joel chuckles, his arm draped around your shoulders. "I guess the cat's out of the bag now," he says, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

Sarah claps her hands together, her eyes shining with joy. "I'm so happy for you two!" she exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug.

Tommy joins in, a warm smile on his face. "Welcome to the family," he says, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

You quickly send a message to your dad, updating him on your whereabouts and letting him know that you'll be having dinner with the Millers, and that he's welcome to join you all.

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter and conversation, the four of you sharing stories and memories as you get to know each other better.

As you were nearing finishing dinner, you hear a knock on Joel's front door, and he excuses himself to answer it. You continue to laugh loudly at Sarah's jokes while Tommy rolls his eyes playfully.

But then, you hear a familiar voice call out your name, and you find your dad standing by the entryway of the dining area. The room falls silent as all eyes turn to him.

"Hey Dad... we just had dinner. Do you want anything? I'm sure I can fix you up a plate," you say, standing up to greet him.

Your dad shakes his head. "No, just had dinner with some of the guys back at the shop. I wanted to say hi to Sarah and Tommy. Didn't think you'd still be here... thought you'd be home already," he says, giving you and Joel a pointed look.

Sarah, bless her heart, quickly jumps in to save the day. "Oh! That's my fault. I insisted she stay here for dinner since I missed her so much," she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Your dad chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "Well, I'm glad you're having a good time. I'll let you all get back to it, just don’t be home too late," he says, giving you a quick hug before turning to leave.

As the door closes behind your dad, a sense of calm settles over the room. You all let out a collective sigh of relief, the tension dissipating as you begin to help clear the table and clean up the dishes. You insist that Sarah and Tommy take a break and get some rest after the meal.

Just as you're elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a plate, you feel Joel's presence behind you. His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you gently away from the sink.

"I'll wash 'em, darlin'," he says, his voice soft and reassuring. "You can rest too. You've done so much already. I can take it from here."

You turn to face him, a grateful smile on your lips. "Are you sure? I don't mind helping," you say, your voice filled with appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

Joel's gaze meets yours, his eyes warm and filled with affection. "I'm sure. You've been a big help today. Let me take care of this," he says, his drawl adding a soothing cadence to his words.

"I'll help dry the dishes and put them away," you say, grabbing a towel from the drawer next to the sink.

Joel chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist as he presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head. "Fine, darlin'," he says with a wink.

You bump your hip with his, a playful grin on your face. "Come on, slowpoke. Let's get these dishes done," you say, sticking your tongue out at him teasingly.

Joel laughs, the sound deep and rich. "Alright, alright. Let's get to work," he says, his arms still wrapped around you as you begin to dry the dishes together.

The warmth of Joel's body against yours, the sound of his laughter, and the easy banter between you creates a sense of comfort and familiarity that you cherish.

As you work together, the pile of dishes slowly dwindles, the kitchen gradually returning to its former state of cleanliness.

Finally, the last dish is dried and put away, and you turn to face Joel, a satisfied smile on your lips. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" you say, your voice filled with playful teasing.

Joel grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "No, darlin', it wasn't. But I think I'll let you do the dishes next time," he says, his arms still wrapped around you.

You laugh, the sound rich and full. "We'll see about that," you say, your voice filled with playful challenge.

You and Joel make your way back to the living room, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Tommy and Sarah are settled on the couch, their attention focused on the TV as they watch some show they had found.

Sarah turns her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she tilts it at the two of you. "So... when are you gonna tell your dad?" she asks, her voice filled with playful teasing.

You glance at Joel, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. "I'm not sure... but hopefully... soon," you say, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Joel nods, his arm draped around your shoulders as he pulls you closer. "Yeah, we'll tell him when the time is right," he says, his voice filled with confidence and reassurance.

Tommy turns his head, a knowing look in his eyes as he takes in the exchange between you and Joel. "Well, whenever you're ready, we'll be here to support you," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Sarah nods, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yeah, we can't wait to see what the future holds for you two," she says, her voice filled with genuine happiness.

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over you all. But then, the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air once again, the tension dissipating as you all settle in to enjoy the rest of the evening together.

As you lean into Joel's embrace, his arm wrapped around you, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

"I had a lot of fun today," you say softly as Joel walks you back home, the short distance feeling longer with each step as a mix of excitement and nervousness swirls within you.

Joel's hands are tucked away in his jeans, a subtle restraint evident as he refrains from intertwining his fingers with yours, a silent acknowledgment of the need for caution in the presence of your father.

He hums in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "I did too," he replies, his voice warm and filled with affection.

You glance up at him, a hint of longing in your eyes. "Wish I could stay over tonight, but y'know... my dad," you sigh, the reality of the situation sinking in as you step onto the familiar steps of your front porch.

Joel nods, understanding the unspoken boundaries that need to be respected. "I get it. We'll have plenty of time for that," he says, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of desire and restraint.

You smile, your heart filled with gratitude. "Yeah, definitely. Thanks for walking me home," you say, your voice soft and sincere.

Joel leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Anytime, darlin'," he murmurs, his deep baritone sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been meanin' to ask you... d'you mind comin' with me to grab a bite to eat and then head to the store to pick up a few more things for the house tomorrow?"

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. "Of course," you reply, your voice filled with eagerness. But then you remember, “You know what small towns are like. People talk.”

“I can’t guarantee anything,” Joel admits. “But we can only do our best to keep our hands off each other until it’s the right time to have everyone know. If you think that’s for the best,” he susgests, and only try to make you feel better.

You let out a small sigh and eventually nod and give him a small smile in agreement.

Joel's eyes sparkle with affection. "I'll see you soon, darlin'," he says, sweet as whiskey.

As you watch Joel's retreating figure, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the warmth and affection that fills your heart. Reluctantly, you turn and head back towards your house, the day's events still lingering in your mind.

The familiar surroundings of your home envelope you, the sound of the television filtering in from the living room. You pause in the entryway, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before making your way towards the comforting glow of the screen.

"Hey, Dad," you call out, your voice filled with a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Your father looks up from the television, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Hey, kiddo. How was your day?" he asks, his eyes filled with genuine interest.

"It was good," you reply, trying to sound casual. "I'm going with Joel tomorrow to help him pick up some stuff for his house."

Your father raises his eyebrows, a hint of a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Oh, alright. Sarah and Tommy coming too?"

You shake your head, feeling a slight flutter in your stomach. "I don't think so... I think they wanna fix their things and rest up a bit."

Your father nods, his gaze studying you for a moment, a hint of a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Just the two of you, huh?" he says, his voice laced with slight concern.

You feel your cheeks flush, but you hold your father's gaze, determined to be honest. "Yeah, just the two of us," you confirm, your voice soft but steady.

Your father leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Alright," he says, his voice calm and reassuring. "Just text me when you leave, okay?"

You nod, a grateful smile spreading across your face. "Thanks, Dad," you say, your voice filled with appreciation.

You feel a warmth spread through your chest, the weight of the day's events finally starting to catch up with you. "I'm gonna head to bed," you say, stifling a yawn. "I'm kinda exhausted."

Your father chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. "Get some rest, kiddo. You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow," he says.

You nod, leaning in to give your father a quick hug. "Thanks, Dad. I love you," you murmur, your voice filled with emotion.

"Love you too, kiddo," he replies, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull away.

You tuck yourself into the cozy comfort of your bed, a big smile spreading across your face as you let out a contented sigh.

As you settle into the familiar softness of your pillows, your mind can't help but wander to Joel. The thought of spending the day with him tomorrow fills you with a sense of giddiness and anticipation that you can't quite contain.

You hum a soft, lilting melody to yourself as you move through your morning routine, the excitement for the day ahead bubbling within you. The sound of your father stirring in the kitchen reaches your ears, and you know he's likely headed out for an early shift at the shop.

After quickly whipping up a simple breakfast, you hear a familiar knock at the front door, and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face as you practically bound towards it.

Pulling the door open, your eyes are immediately drawn to the sight of Joel standing there, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe. His silver curls are neatly pushed back, and he's dressed in a different colored flannel than the one he wore the day before, paired with his well-worn jeans.

A smirk plays on his lips as he takes in the sight of you, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and mischief.

"Mornin', darlin'," he drawls, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hi," you breathe, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, yet unable to tear your gaze away from him.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and rich. "You ready to head out?" he asks, his arm reaching out to gently brush against yours.

You nod, your heart fluttering at his touch. "Just let me grab my bag," you say, turning to retrieve it from the nearby table.

As you turn back to face him, you catch a glimpse of your father in the kitchen, offering you a warm smile and a subtle nod of approval. The gesture fills you with a sense of comfort and reassurance.

Turning your attention back to Joel, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement and anticipation. "Okay, I'm all set," you say, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Joel grins, his hand finding the small of your back as he guides you out the door. "Then let's get goin', darlin'," he says, his touch sending a thrill through you.

As you step out into the crisp morning air, hand in hand with the man you've come to care for so deeply, a sense of anticipation and uncertainty lingers between you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you ask suddenly as you settle into the car's passenger seat, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

To be honest, it's the last thing Joel is thinking about, and your question catches him off guard. But he can see and feel how it's affecting you, the worry and doubt etched in your expression.

"You could just sneak over to my house every night. Make sure you're back home in time for breakfast," Joel suggests, trying to lighten the mood, but he knows deep down it's not as simple as that.

"Do you think your dad might already kinda know?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern. "Deep down, I kinda mean, darlin'."

You shrug, a mix of emotions swirling within you as Joel drives. You feel annoyed at yourself for even bringing it up, but Joel is grateful that you did.

"Or we could just go. Take off," Joel says, thinking aloud. He feels you turn to look at him, his hand still rubbing comforting circles on your thigh.

"You mean... just leave?" you ask, the idea not entirely foreign to you.

"It's not something we have to think about right this minute, but do you really wanna stay here, in this house? In this town, tutoring kids for a few bucks an hour?" Joel questions, his voice tinged with a hint of restlessness.

He remembers one of the main things he doesn't miss about small towns – how everyone seems to know everyone else's business. And in the case of you and Joel, that would be none of their damned business.

"But you only just bought the place, and Sarah and Tommy just arrived, and I guess the only thing I'm really worried about is Dad. Screw tutoring," you say, your brow furrowed as you grapple with the weight of the decisions ahead.

"I only bought the place... only came back to town to be closer to you, remember?" Joel explains, his voice filled with sincerity. "Sarah's school transfer papers haven't been processed yet, and Tommy has to go back anyways. I didn't think in my wildest dreams that I'd have you all to myself on day one, darlin'."

"You're a pretty fast operator, that's for sure," you tease him, a hint of a smile playing on your lips, but the underlying tension remains unresolved between you.

The realization that you are well and truly Joel's, the depth of your connection with him, fills you with a sense of contentment and joy. It's a problem, but the best kind of problem to have, a testament to the love and bond you share.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel hasn't checked his messages yet, but he's confident that the call he made to boost your dad's business will yield positive results. It may not all happen today, but he's hopeful it will help your dad regain his confidence and pride in his work.

In the meantime, Joel is adamant that you shouldn't do anything you're not comfortable with. He inquires if you're the only tutor available at the college.

"Of course not," you sigh, a hint of resignation in your voice. "It'll just mean a couple of college kids keep their tutoring money from Mom or Dad, is all," you reflect, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

From your perspective, the real challenge lies in explaining to everyone that you've been with Joel the whole time. The thought of facing your father's reaction weighs heavily on your mind, and Joel is keenly aware of the potential conflict that may arise.

He knows that your father's protective instincts will be triggered, and navigating that aspect of your relationship will require patience and understanding from both of you.

"Well, if we're gonna burn for it, we may as well burn together," Joel tells you, his voice filled with a mix of determination and tenderness.

"But there's no point makin' it harder on ourselves either," Joel adds, his tone thoughtful. "Let's just wait and see, huh?" he suggests, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring gaze.

The idea sinks in – it isn't the end of the world if you stop tutoring, and if nobody has caught on to the fact that you two are together, why stir up unnecessary trouble?

Relieved when you agree, you relax back into your seat, the weight of the situation lifting slightly. Joel parks the car on a street lined with small stores and cafes, the hustle and bustle of the town adding to the charm of the moment.

Despite the external distractions, it feels wrong to be near you and not show you how much you mean to him. The subtle touches and stolen glances have evolved into something deeper, a connection that demands to be acknowledged.

By the time you graduate from those fleeting moments to a full-blown kiss once you're back in the car after your meal, the intensity of your feelings for each other becomes undeniable.

Just as the moment seems to crystallize into something special, a female voice interrupts, shattering the private bubble you and Joel had created.

"Oh! Hi, Professor," you squeak, the sudden intrusion jolting you out of the intimate moment.

Joel, his expression darkening, turns to face the unexpected visitor, a protective instinct rising within him as he assesses the situation with a keen eye.

As the scene unfolds, Joel quickly grasps the situation at hand. A mildly annoyed college professor, Professor Hannah Bennett, catches her star tutor – you – in the arms of a man, instead of where you're expected to be.

The initial tension softens as Professor Bennett's gaze meets Joel's, her expression shifting from annoyance to curiosity. Joel, ever the gentleman, gulps slightly before extending his hand in introduction.

"Professor Hannah Bennett," she says, regaining her composure, though Joel feels her hand limp in his for a brief moment, a sign of her surprise.

Her eyes flicker from Joel to you, who has momentarily lost your voice in the unexpected encounter. The professor, quick to regain her professional demeanor, decides to leave you two to your own devices.

"Your dad mentioned you were helping his friend... uh, new neighbor," she stammers, a deep blush coloring her cheeks.

"Just maybe more notice next time if you're not up for tutoring for the day, that's all I ask," she adds, her tone taking on a more authoritative air as she reverts to her professorial role.

"I think I'll take a rain check on tutoring for a while, Professor Bennett," you declare in a clear, resolute voice, your hand slipping into Joel's for support.

Joel's pride and satisfaction are evident as he grins at your decision. The old professor huffs in disapproval, muttering something about the younger generation, before swiftly retreating from the scene.

"You quit?" Joel asks, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and admiration, leaning in to kiss you deeply before you can respond.

"I guess I did," you reply, a hint of amazement in your tone at the sudden turn of events.

"Was it hard?" Joel teases, and you shoot him a sidelong glance, a hint of amusement in your eyes.

"The professor's the soul of discretion," you assure him. "But if we're caught like that on our first time out together..."

Joel knows exactly what you mean. The potential fallout from such a public display is looming, and he can feel the weight of it pressing down on you both.

"C'mon," Joel urges, determined to enjoy the moment despite the impending challenges. "Show me around town. Take me grocery shopping," he suggests, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"We can fill up both our pantries and maybe we can cook up a storm for dinner?" he asks, but he can see the worry etched on your face.

"Hey, your dad was alright with the idea, right? To come with me for the grocery run?" Joel reasons, hoping to ease your concerns.

Relieved when you finally yield, a smile spreading across your face as you relax. "You're right. He did," you agree.

"But easy with those kisses," you're quick to add, a hint of playfulness in your tone. "What if it was Dad that happened by just now?"

Joel bites his tongue, and to keep you happy, he agrees to the new terms and conditions. No aggressive public displays of affection – a small price to pay to maintain the delicate balance of your relationship.

Your little run-in with the professor has only affirmed Joel's feeling that small-town eyes and ears are always connected to big mouths. He knows they'll have to be cautious, at least for now.

"Say," Joel asks once you're back in the car, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Is there like a lingerie store or something in town too?"

You raise an eyebrow, unsure if he's teasing you or not. "I think there is, but I don't think that's where you wanna be seen hanging out, is it?" you ask, a playful challenge in your voice.

Joel chuckles, his gaze focused on the road ahead. "I'll keep it in mind for future reference," he explains, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As he navigates the quiet streets, Joel makes a mental note that you're going to need a ready supply of all things underwear. The memory of tearing yours off is still fresh enough in his mind to remind him that he wants to make it a regular occurrence.

As you and Joel make your way through the quiet streets of the town, you can't help but feel a growing sense of unease. It must be your imagination, you tell yourself, trying to push down the nagging feeling that something is off.

But as you step into the local grocery store, the truth becomes undeniable – everyone is staring at the two of you. You're nowhere near touching, and you definitely don't have a sign around your neck proclaiming your newfound intimacy, but the curious gazes and hushed whispers are impossible to ignore.

You keep forgetting that a man of Joel's stature and presence is bound to turn heads in a small town like this. But as quick as the locals are to stare and gawk, they're just as fast to look away, especially when they lock eyes with Joel's unwavering gaze.

"Grab whatever you need, whatever you want. For your place, too, darlin'," Joel says, his voice warm and reassuring, though you can see the strain in his expression, the desire to reach out and touch you palpable.

He focuses his attention on filling the biggest cart he can find, his movements efficient and purposeful. You can't help but wonder how you're going to explain a houseful of food to your father, but you're sure he's well aware of just how naturally generous Joel is by now.

After filling up not one, but two overflowing carts, you can't help but protest the sheer volume of groceries Joel has insisted on purchasing. But he's quick to reason with you, his voice low and conspiratorial.

"The less I have to go out to shop, the more time I have to work on my new house," he says, his words laced with a hidden meaning that's clear to you.

You nod in understanding, realizing that his reasoning is not just about efficiency, but also about maintaining the appearance of propriety in the eyes of the small-town community.

As you check out, the total on the receipt makes your eyes widen, but Joel simply shrugs it off, his focus on ensuring you and your home are well-stocked. You actually think it's a great idea – if you both stock up now, you won't have to venture out for anything later.

No tutoring, no errands to run, at least for the next week. The thought of having all that spare time with Joel has your heart racing with anticipation, and you're pretty sure he has a few ideas of his own.

But as Joel pulls into your street, your breath catches in your throat. There, parked out front, is your father's truck. You swallow hard, the weight of the situation suddenly pressing down on you.

"Your dad's home," Joel says, his voice strained, but there's no hint of worry in his tone. If anything, he sounds more like an animal guarding its prized possession than someone afraid of getting caught.

Taking a deep breath as Joel pulls into the driveway, you brace yourself for the moment of confrontation you've been dreading. But as you both start to unload the groceries, the anticipated showdown never materializes.

Far from it, your dad practically leaps out of the house, a huge smile spreading across his face as he welcomes you both. Joel's mood instantly shifts, a sense of relief and contentment washing over him – if your dad is happy, so is Joel.

And just like that, you're off the hook for now.

"You're home early, Dad," you observe, but he's way too pumped up about something else to ask you two where you've been. He's grinning like a maniac, and you can't help but wonder if he's finally cracked.

Catching Joel's knowing look, you realize that this must be good news somehow. Whatever it is, it's clearly put your father in an exceptionally cheerful mood.

"I dunno what you did, Joel, but it worked!" your dad almost shrieks, pumping the air with his fist before high-fiving Joel, who doesn't seem surprised at all.

"What did you do?" you ask them both, but it's as if you've disappeared or something. Your dad has gone into full Joel-best-buddy mode, slapping his back and whooping and hollering. It's not until you're all inside that you can finally get any sense out of him.

"I'm booked solid for the next three months!" your dad exclaims to Joel, who's trying his best to look excited for your father's good fortune.

"And that, uh, client of yours? The one who collects all those vintage cars? Guess who he wants to be maintaining them all?" your dad asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"That's great news. I'm glad I could..." Joel begins, but your dad is on a roll.

He's re-hiring the mechanics and workers he's laid off, and he's going to "expand the business." He's going to do better than ever from now on.

He's going to...

He's going to make you vomit if he keeps going on about it.

"Dad," you finally say, talking over him to get his attention.

"Yeah, sweetie, what is it?" he asks, holding his thought so he can keep telling Joel all about his fresh business plans.

"Nothing." You smile. "But are you gonna stick around, or do you still have that tractor to fix?" you ask, wondering if you and Joel will have any time alone now.

And you haven't even thought about what's going to happen when it's time to go to bed.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks, honey, but I've got Lucas going out to do it now. Boy! Is he glad to have his old job back!" your dad exclaims loudly, beaming up at Joel.

His admiration for Joel makes you feel like you're not the only one who thinks he's pretty amazing, which he is to a lot of people. But to you, he's the only one.

"You've done the hunting and gathering," your dad proclaims, his eyes sweeping over the abundance of meat and groceries you and Joel have just started to unload. Sarah and Tommy quickly make their way outside, greeting your father and offering to help with the remaining items that belong to them.

"So I'll start making us all a feast to celebrate," your dad announces, asking you if you can finish bringing in the groceries while he and Joel "catch up."

The subtle way he singles you out of the conversation is not lost on you. If this had been a day or two ago, before you had just lived through the best twenty-four hours of your life with Joel, you wouldn't have minded. But you hadn't counted on your dad being home early, nor did you expect him to hijack your man as soon as he saw him again.

You look to Joel for help, but he only shrugs, a strange expression crossing his face when your dad's back is turned that has you stifling a giggle. Instantly, you find yourself forgiving the entire group for being in this crazy situation.

You do as your dad asks, leaving out the items he calls for, the ones he'll need to amaze you all with his cooking skills. But once that task is complete, you're left awkwardly hanging out in the kitchen, feeling miles away from Joel. Maybe you should just go to your room.

No sooner do you glance towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, Joel's stern look stops you in your tracks. The message is clear – he wants you right where he can see you.

"I might just go change," you tell the room, knowing your dad is not paying attention, still talking a million miles a minute to Joel, who gives a little nod of approval.

You haven't seen your dad this excited, ever. Whatever Joel did has clearly done the trick to help your dad out, but are you really going to have to hear about it all night? It feels like you are.

By the time you change clothes, trying to look nice but not overly dressy for Joel, your dad stops long enough to notice you for a change.

"Sorry, honey. I've just been so pumped all day. And I've just gotta talk to the man who made it all happen," he explains, shooting Joel another glowing look.

"Don't let me do all the talking, though, and don't worry about skipping tutoring today. I already spoke to the professor," he adds, making your heart freeze in your chest.

"So? What have you two been up to all day?" he asks, snapping off a celery stalk from one of the brown paper sacks, crunching it loudly as he leans back against the counter.

Now, he's all ears, eager to know what it is that you and Joel have been up to.

He looks from you to Joel, and you can feel your mouth hanging open. You're waiting for Joel to save you both, which he does without effort.

"I had sweet darlin’ here help me run some errands, we did some grocery shopping, and then she showed me around town," he says, and none of it is a lie.

Your dad's brow creases with attention as he listens, already looking bored if he can't keep talking about his own good news. Joel does skip some parts, though, including the more intimate moments you shared – your father wouldn't be interested in those details.

But once Joel suggests you help him out like you did today more often, especially with all the plans Joel has for his new house, and hanging out with Sarah and helping her by tutoring her, it starts to sound more like a job offer than anything else.

"Well, it's up to you, hon," your dad says thoughtfully after a moment, not even a hint of suspicion in his voice anymore.

As your dad busies himself selecting ingredients for the meal he's going to prepare, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The prospect of spending more hours talking and eating with your family and Joel looms ahead, a bittersweet reminder of the newfound dynamics in your life.

Joel's pivotal role in saving your dad's business is evident, and it's clear that your father is more than willing to follow Joel's lead from now on. Despite the relief and gratitude you feel, there's an underlying longing for the quiet moments alone with the man who has quickly become the center of your world.

"I wasn't getting paid very much to tutor, Dad," you remind him, shooting a playful glance at Joel when your dad's attention is elsewhere. You can't help but ponder what your hourly rate might be if you were to accept his unofficial job offer, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes.

It takes some time to adjust to the new dynamic in the kitchen with Joel and your dad. You find yourself fighting the urge to seek out Joel's touch every few seconds, a silent reminder of the growing connection between you.

As you call Sarah and Tommy over for dinner, the atmosphere shifts to one of camaraderie and relaxation. It feels good to simply talk, eat, and goof around without the weight of other concerns pressing down on you.

Throughout the evening, you notice the subtle strain on Joel's face, a reminder of the complexities of the situation. Yet, your dad remains your dad, unwavering in his friendship with Joel, creating a unique bond between the three of you.

As the meal progresses and conversations flow, you find yourself washing up alongside Sarah, the men engrossed in their post-dinner discussions out on the porch. Sarah decides to head back to the house early, leaving you with a sense of peace and contentment in the quiet moments that follow.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks – you might have to spend the night away from Joel, not just tonight, but potentially every night until you both figure out what to do. It's not a happy thought, and you know Joel is thinking the same thing as the time for bed draws closer.

You've spent more hours today not touching and kissing than you two have actually been able to do so, and you just know Joel isn't happy about that either. So when your dad comes back inside without Joel or Tommy, you try not to sound panicked as you ask where they both are.

Your dad chuckles, "He went home, sweetie. He lives next door now, remember?" he asks, stifling a yawn and scratching his belly, letting you know he's about to turn in.

"I gotta huge day tomorrow, so I might not even see ya before or after work, but thanks for helping Joel out. He's really saved our bacon," your dad says, pecking your cheek before stretching out another yawn and heading to his room.

Not long after hearing his door close, there's a light rapping at the back door. You spring around and see Joel, his finger pressed firmly to his lips before he stalks over to you in two steps, kissing you with a desperation that takes your breath away.

"Wait 'til he's asleep again... Then come over," he murmurs, cocking his head and darting back out the door before your dad shuffles down the hall again, this time in his pajamas on the way to the bathroom.

Once your dad goes back to his room, you know he won't be coming out again. And if he does, he'll think you're asleep. So, tidying up the rest of the kitchen in record time, it isn't long before you hear your dad blowing bubbles in his sleep, and you're hot-footing it next door.

The need for Joel's touch is overwhelming, the hours spent apart feeling like an eternity. As you step into his home, the familiar scent of him envelops you, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement wash over you.

Without a moment's hesitation, you find yourself in his arms, your lips crashing against his in a desperate, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that matters is the connection you share, the hunger for each other's embrace.

Joel's deep, southern drawl sends a shiver down your spine as he leans in, his lips brushing against your neck. "You gotta be quiet for me, darlin'," he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. "Can you do that for me?"

You nod eagerly, your heart racing with anticipation. The need for his touch is overwhelming, the hours spent apart feeling like an eternity. As his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his muscular frame, you melt into his embrace.

Joel's calloused hands roam your body, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you. His lips crash against yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a primal hunger. You whimper softly, the sound muffled by his searing kiss.

"That's it, darlin'," Joel growls, his voice dripping with desire. "Let me hear how much you want me." His hands slide down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he grinds his hardness against you.

You gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. "Joel," you breathe, your fingers tangling in his silver curls. "I need you, please..."

He chuckles, the deep rumble vibrating against your skin. "I know, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of you." Deftly, he lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you towards the bedroom.

The world around you fades away, consumed by the raw, primal need that pulses between you. Joel lays you down on the bed, his calloused hands caressing your curves as he hovers over you, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're so damn beautiful, darlin'," he murmurs, his lips trailing featherlight kisses along your jaw. "I've been waitin' all day to have you like this."

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. "Then take me, Joel," you whisper, your voice dripping with desire. "I'm yours."

With a growl, Joel captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming your body as he slowly, methodically undresses you. The air is thick with the scent of your arousal, and the sound of your ragged breathing fills the room.

As he buries himself deep within you, you cry out, the sensation of being so completely filled sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Joel stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice strained with restraint. "Let me hear how much you love it."

You whimper, your hips rolling against his. "Joel, please," you beg, your nails digging into the taut muscles of his back. "Don't stop."

With a groan, Joel begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, driving you higher and higher towards the precipice of ecstasy. Your bodies move in perfect harmony, the world around you fading away until all that exists is the two of you, lost in a haze of passion and desire.

The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the heady scent of sex hanging in the air as Joel's movements become more urgent, more primal. Your bodies move as one, a symphony of desire and need as you reach the pinnacle of ecstasy together, the intensity of your release washing over you in a wave of pure bliss.

As you come down from the heights of pleasure, Joel holds you close, his heart pounding against yours as you both catch your breath. In the aftermath of your passion, you're left feeling sated, fulfilled, and more connected to Joel than ever before.

In this stolen moment, you know that no matter the challenges that lie ahead, as long as you have Joel by your side, you're equipped to confront almost anything. The future may be uncertain, but in his arms, you've never felt more at home.

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harrywavycurly · 10 months

Text

Fake Husband Eddie Munson AU Part 3: Not Him

Part 1: here

Part 2: here

Tag List: @alana4610 @fluentmoviequoter @alicentswife @vivalasv3gan @goth-cowgirl-03 @yujyujj @slowgabinaburninroom @zaddyskye69 @manda-panda-monium @ckeeks4563 @raven-rust @adaydreamaway08 @nikkisheep @flawiette @knmendiola @corvusskid @itsmadamehydra @saramelaniemoon @winchestergirl87-blog

A/N: I have one more little epilogue type update for this little story and really I’m so glad y’all enjoyed it and I hope you’re happy with the ending ✨

*Eddie just knows he’s not leaving until you forgive him*

“You’re such an idiot.” Eddie mumbles to himself as he rushes up the steps of your front porch. “God how the fuck do I fix this?” He asks himself as he runs a hand over his face and lets out a sigh. “Just tell her the truth.” He whispers as he reaches into the pocket of his work overalls and pulls out the skull ring the bartender tossed at him.

“What exactly is the truth Eddie?” You watch him jump at the sound of your voice and you have to hold back from laughing because he nearly dropped the ring that he held in the palm of his hand. You stand up from your rocking chair so you can lean against the railing crossing your arms over your chest. Eddie turns his body so he’s facing you and he feels his heart drop when he sees your eyes are glossy and red letting him know you had been crying and it was all because of him.

“I’m so sorry.” You roll your eyes as Eddie takes a small step towards you. “I don’t even know how it happened.” Eddie tries to find the words to explain himself but he’s coming up short as he rubs at the back of his neck.

“I can tell you exactly how it happened.” Your voice is harsh as you stare Eddie right in the eyes as you stand up straight and take a step towards him all of a sudden making your front porch feel extremely small. “You got so caught up in whatever you were doing at work that you forgot about me.” Eddie doesn’t miss the way your voice cracks a bit as you speak making him look down at his feet because looking at you when you’re on the verge of tears is too much for him. “Wanna know how I know that? Because this isn’t the first time someone’s forgotten about me because something more important came up …so please tell me Eddie…what was it that got you so distracted?” You watch him lift his head up but instead of looking at you he turns his head so he’s look in the direction of his van that’s parked in your driveway.

“A minivan.” You almost don’t hear him due to his voice being almost a whisper. You just nod your head as you let out a scoff making Eddie look at you and the way your porch light glows he’s able to see a few tears escape your eyes.

“A minivan? Really?” Eddie tries to close the space between the two of you but you’re quick to take a few steps backwards away from him. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this again.” You watch Eddie reach his hand out for you but you just shake your head and cross your arms over your chest.

“Do what?” He asks as he watches you look down at your feet.

“Be with someone who doesn’t care about me or…have time for me.” Eddie feels like his heart is about to break into a million pieces because he knows who you’re comparing him to and it kills him because he knows just how poorly Jason treated you and he doesn’t ever want you to think he’s anything like him.

“I do care about you and I absolutely have time for you.” Eddie needs you to hear him so he bends down so you’ll look him in the eyes. “I am so sorry sweetheart…I swear it won’t happen again…I’m not him okay? I had tonight circled on my calendar and everything.” You just let out a huff as you wipe your eyes.

“Yet you still didn’t show up.” Eddie knows he deserves this, it’s his fault he didn’t make sure he got off work in time to meet you at the Hideout by six, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less seeing you upset at him. “Just go home Eddie.” You whisper as you take a seat back in your rocking chair as you look down at your hands in your lap.

“No.” Is all he says before he’s closing the distance between the two of you and dropping to his knees right in front of you and picking up your right hand in his so he can place his skull ring back on your ring finger. “I’m not going anywhere…call Hopper if you want but I’m not leaving.” You look from the ring to his eyes as he gives you a little smile. “I fucked up but I swear…it won’t happen again and honestly I’d be fine with proving that to you for the rest of our lives but…that seems like a little much to say considering we haven’t even had our first date yet.” You just shake your head as a soft laugh escapes you making Eddie smile.

“Whose fault is that huh?” Your voice is playful as you look back down at the ring on your finger.

“Oh it’s my fault…but I’m here now so…what do you say? Will you let me take you somewhere?” You can hear how hopeful he is and you know in your heart he isn’t anything like Jason and he’d never hurt you intentionally.

“Okay.” Eddie smiles as he brings his hands up to cup your face. “Don’t make me regret this.” You whisper as you lean into his touch and Eddie just nods and leans in to place a kiss to your forehead.

“You won’t..I promise.” You smile as he kisses your cheeks. “Oh and one more thing.” You raise an eyebrow as he drops his hands from your face so he can grab your hand that has his ring on it. “I’m going to need you to stop trying to give this back to me.” He explains as he twirls the skull ring around on your finger a few times.

“Then I need you to stop being an asshole and never make me sit in a bar for two hours waiting for you ever again.” Eddie just nods his head as he places your hands back in your lap.

“Deal.” With that he leans in and places a kiss to your lips making you smile as he pulls away. “Now how about we go have ourselves a first date Mrs. Munson.” You just laugh as he stands up and reaches his hand out to help you out of your chair.

469 notes · View notes

starsandhughes · 10 months

Text

Penalty Box— Cruel Weather (End)

story/original request based off this ask: Reactions to Sissy Getting Hurt

warnings: swearing, accident, mentions of injuries, surgery, mentions of pain medications, crying, anxiety, overall angst

word count: ~7.9k

General Series Masterlist

part one — part two — part three — part four

a/n i did not edit this much at all so excuse all typos!

THERE WILL NOT BE AN EPILOGUE! THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING! IT’S STILL SAD BUT THIS IS WHAT WE GET!!

————————

You started to hear quiet voices, and then a really pissed off Quinn. You drowned it out, but you couldn’t drown out the pain that shot through you when Trevor was shaken awake. Everybody was suddenly on guard when you cried out in pain. Trevor slowly sat up and smacked Quinn on the arm, “Look what you did!”

“Sissy, I’m–”

“Not your fault,” you grunted out through twinges of pain. You gripped Trevor’s hand with all your might, trying to breathe through it. Your body felt heavy against the pillows when the pain finally dulled. You took deep breaths to relax as Trevor rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb and ran his fingers through your hair in a calming motion. You nodded at him with your eyes closed when you felt better.

“Go back to sleep if you need, sweet girl,” Trevor whispered. “We’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You opened your eyes to look at Quinn, who looked scared out of his mind.

“Come here,” you told him. Quinn carefully stepped towards you, and once he got close, you could see the tears forming in his eyes. “You didn’t know. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Trevor relinquished your hand so Quinn could hold it, “You’re awake.”

“Something like that,” you said drowsily. You turned your head to look at everyone else that was in the room, and you were surprised at how many people were actually here. Your mom, dad, Jack, Luke, Cole, Alex, Jamie, and Matty. “Hi.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. No one could believe it. Luke shoved his way through the small crowd to the side where Quinn and Trevor were and sat down on the edge of your bed. You looked at Quinn, and with that one look he knew that your big sister mode was kicking in. He let go of your hand and you reached out to Luke, who gripped on with both of his hands.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “I’m okay. Okay? I’m not leaving you.”

“You–” Luke got too choked up.

“I know, come here,” you said. “Lay your head down on my chest. Trevor did it last night, it doesn’t hurt.”

Luke was taller and lankier than Trevor, but with Trevor and you guiding him, he got settled. You took some deep breaths and told him to feel your heartbeat, just as you did for Trevor.

“See? My heart’s beating now. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered as you ran your fingers through his curls.

“Promise?” Luke squeaked. He was crying and it broke your heart.

“I promise.”

You couldn’t fight being asleep anymore, and everyone could tell.

“Luke, let’s get off of Sissy so that she can sleep,” Jim said.

You shook your head, “He’s fine. Trevor did it last night. I’m okay.”

And with that, the drugs pulled you under.

– – –

Luke was letting silent tears fall, “Trevor?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“You sure she’s okay?”

“She’s okay,” he assured him.

“Then why do you have an IV again?” Jamie asked him.

Of course Jamie would be the first one to notice. Or the first one to call him out at the very least.

“I uh… they made me step out of the room while they were doing tests and the thing attached to her finger that reads her heartbeat got knocked off. I lost it when I heard the flatline again and couldn’t see her, so I got sedated again,” Trevor explained. “It wasn’t real, it was just…”

“You’re going to be going through this a lot, aren’t you?” Jamie asked him. Trevor sighed and nodded, “Probably.”

Jamie walked over and put his arm around his friend, a simple motion that let Trevor know that that was okay. That they’d get through this together. Not just between everyone, but them specifically. They live together. They’ll be the ones majorly helping Y/N when she’s released from the hospital. Jamie will be the one with him when they have to go on their first away game. Jamie and Trevor will be each other’s rocks.

“You doing alright, Lukey?” Jack asked his brother.

“She’s here,” was all he said.

Quinn patted his back in an attempt to comfort him, “She sure is, Lukey.”

“Mom? Can you go talk to a nurse to get some updates?” Jack asked. She smiled and told the pack of boys that she’d be right back.

The weight of the world fell off everybody’s shoulders. Seeing her awake and hearing her speak was a marvel of a sight. Not a soul in the room could believe it. Not a soul in the room didn’t feel relief.

Ellen came back with a nurse who could update the room on Sissy.

“Everything is looking good for her. Her vitals are great, and we’re keeping her on high, but safe, levels of pain medication. That’s why she’s in and out of consciousness. And all of the medication that affected her from waking up from the anesthesia is out of her system, so she’ll be just fine when it’s time for her shoulder surgery,” she said.

“Woah, woah, woah– next surgery?!” Trevor shouted. “She almost died after your last one and you want to put her under again?!”

Trevor felt like he couldn’t breathe again. He almost lost you to a surgery that was supposed to be no big deal, and they wanted to do it to you again?

“Z, breathe,” Jamie said to him, but Trevor yanked his arm away from his touch.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Trevor repeated. He was slowly backing up against the wall.

“Trevor,” Quinn tried. He wanted to calm him down, but him freaking out was freaking him out, too. Everyone almost lost you. Not just him. “I don’t like the idea either, but she needs this surgery. You don’t want her to be in pain, do you?”

Quin was treating him like a child, but Trevor was looking like he was close to another freak out.

“Z, we can’t sedate you every time you’re feeling like this. You need to learn how to get through this so that you can do it at home. Now, look at me, and breathe with me, okay?”

It took a few tries for Trevor to actually get it together, but he was still crying.

“I don’t want her to be in pain. I love her, but I can’t lose her,” Trevor said.

Quinn nodded and brought him into a hug, “I know. Us, too.”

Since Quinn was able to calm Trevor down, he asked for the IV to be removed since it had drained out anyway. Trevor was exhausted and Ellen told him to go lay down again in the recliner. Luke remained attached to Sissy and was slowly drifting off, too.

“Is anyone not scared about Sissy going in for another surgery?” Jack asked, keeping his voice down for Luke and Trevor.

“I’m trying to focus on the fact that she needs it,” Jamie answered.

The consensus was clear, everyone had at least a sliver of concern for the possibility for things to go wrong. Jim and Ellen remained strong and comforted the boys with the fact that the doctors now know what to use for her so that she wakes up safely and in a reasonable amount of time this round. But even they were worried for the girl that has become their only daughter.

“Remember when we first all played against each other when I was in college?” Quinn piped up, looking for any means to distract himself.

“She wore a shirt that said ‘I just hope both teams have fun!’ How could I forget?” Cole laughed.

“I’m just glad she doesn’t do that now,” Jack said. “Although, for once I’d like her to wear my jersey when we play against the Canucks or Ducks!”

“That’s not going to happen and you know it,” Alex teased him.

“She wears your jersey when we play against you,” Cole offered.

“Yeah, but she wears mine whenever we play against any of you,” Matthew smirked. “Except against Quinn or Trevor. Then it’s theirs.”

“What does she wear when we play against the Canucks?” Jamie asked.

“Z and I have to play air hockey to decide it,” Quinn told them, sending everyone into a fit of laughter. “But she might add you into the mix.”

“She’s something else,” Jamie said.

“You have no idea, Jamie. She’ll get worse,” Jack told him. “But it’ll only make you love her more.”

“Now that, I believe.”

– – –

You woke up to the muffled sounds of your friends talking and laughing. It brought a smile to your face that now that you were awake, your friends could relax a bit. You just hope it sticks.

What is sticking, however, is the dull pain. A dull pain that’s growing. You never tell Luke to let go or to go away if he needs you, but it was too much right now. You felt extra guilty because you were pretty sure that he was still asleep.

“Quintin,” you said. Your voice was strained and so quiet that you weren’t sure that he heard you. You tried again, but when you did the dryness of your throat made you cough, which just added to the pain and you cried out. That got everyone’s attention. “Quintin, I need you to get Luke off me, it’s starting to hurt.”

You were visibly in discomfort, and trying to move was not your friend. Ellen stepped in and eased you while Quinn carefully woke up Luke.

“It really hurts, mom,” you whimpered. She gave you a sad smile and brushed back your hair, “I know, Sissy. It’ll pass. Quinn’s waking him up.”

Luke felt tremendously guilty, and it took you multiple times to assure him that he was completely fine before the pain medications slowly started to wear off. And because you were on such high doses, it wasn’t time for you to safely have another round. So you had to wait.

“Can I get you anything, little mouse?”

You looked over and smiled at Matthew over the nickname, “Water?”

Matthew got up to find you some water, and you looked around the room to try and get a gauge of everyone’s emotions. You were pretty good at reading your friends and family, but the one who stuck out the most to you was Alex.

“Turc? Do you need a moment alone?”

“What?” he asked, caught off guard. “No, I’m fine…I’m–”

“Hey, can I get a second with Alex?” you asked the room. You could tell Alex was embarrassed, but no one else said anything as they left. “Come here.”

Alex got up and moved to the chair that was right next to you. You grabbed his hand and smiled at him in an effort to let him know that it was okay.

“You need another surgery,” he blurted out.

“That’s not all of it and you know it,” you said. You knew him too well.

Alex sighed and bounced his leg, trying to calm down enough to actually tell you what was on his mind.

“Yesterday when you were still in the coma, I couldn’t come talk to you alone. Everyone else did it days before. Yesterday Cole and Matthew did, but I couldn’t. It felt like I would be saying goodbye to you, and I didn’t want to face that,” he admitted.

“So tell me what you would’ve said.”

Alex took a deep breath, “I would’ve told you how much I miss you. And that you mean the world to me and have ever since high school. I would’ve told you that the first time I met you, and I saw how you and Trevor were acting, I knew you were going to be in my life forever because you two are perfect for each other and I knew it before he admitted his feelings to us. I would’ve told you how much I love you. How much I was trying to keep it together but was slowly failing to. And I think I would’ve told you goodbye just in case you flatlined again in the middle of the night and I wouldn’t get a chance to.”

You squeezed his hand when you noticed his tears, “Good thing you get to say hello then.”

“Hello,” he breathed out a small, forced laugh.

“Hi,” you said right back. “You’ll be okay. I’m okay. We’ll all get through this together, alright? And I love you, too.”

– – –

It wasn’t fun hearing what everyone else told you while you were in a coma, but you felt like it needed to be done. Maybe it shouldn’t be your job to help everyone, but you would get the help you’ll need in return. It broke your heart hearing that Luke couldn’t figure out how to be the strong one like everyone was telling him to. It broke your heart hearing that Jack was trying to hold it together for everyone and that he was terrified of having to go back to Jersey before you woke up. How Jamie felt guilty for being one of the reasons you were in the car in the first place. How Quinn was losing his mind and felt so defeated when you squeezed his hand and he learned it was nothing. How Matty was sent here by his coach because he wasn’t playing well. How Cole told you that his life changed forever when you came into it and that his break was hard because he held it in.

Trevor broke your heart the most. It broke you that he was plagued by nightmares when he was only sleeping because he knew you’d want him to. It broke your heart that he went catatonic for a few hours. It broke your heart that he watched your heart flat line. It broke your heart how guilty he felt. You couldn’t bear the thought of your forever getting cut short with him. Trevor almost had to experience that.

You didn’t get much time to be with everyone as a group before a nurse and a doctor came in and asked for everyone but “your emergency contacts” to leave. That meant that only Trevor and your parents could stay in the room.

The doctor began to go over your next surgery with you for your shoulder. It was a shoulder replacement surgery, and you didn’t really pay attention to any of the details. All you knew was that the fractures were bad enough to need it, and that it was scheduled for tomorrow at 1pm.

You just woke up from a roughly two day coma post a surgery and now they wanted to put you under again? And they were just going to hope that if they used different sedatives and started the treatment they used to wake you up immediately it would be okay?

You felt terrified. But you knew everyone else did, too. Probably more than you were, since they were the ones that had to sit idly by while you were unconscious.

You held all your fears in.

For Ellen.

For Jim.

For Jack.

For Cole.

For Alex.

For Matty.

For Jamie.

For Luke.

For Quinn.

For Trevor.

For Trevor. For Trevor. For Trevor.

You could do anything for Trevor, and this will just have to be one of those things.

“Are you okay?” he asked you. He sat on the edge of your bed and held your hand, rubbing circles with his thumb on it. “Do you need a minute before we let everyone else back in?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m alright.”

Trevor eyed you suspiciously, “Don’t lie to me, sweet girl.”

“I’ll be okay, and having everyone in here will help,” you told him. It wasn’t a lie. You will be okay, eventually. And everyone in this small little room will be a lovely distraction. Your surgery isn’t until tomorrow, so all you had to do was make it through the day.

“Sissy, I got someone who wants to talk to you,” Luke said smiling as he came back in.

“Who?” you asked, smiling back. Luke said nothing and just handed you his phone. “Duker!”

“Hey, Sissy, how are you? I’ve been worried sick,” Dylan said.

“I can definitely say I physically haven’t been worse,” you told him.

“That’s the most Y/N answer I’ve ever heard,” he laughed. “Glad the coma didn’t change you!”

“It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to change me,” you assured him. And the rest of the room. And yourself.

Mainly yourself. Lord knows you needed it.

“I’m coming tomorrow, okay? I know you miss me!”

“I really do,” you laughed. “Be good, Duker.”

“I think I can make that promise for once,” he joked.

You were getting tired again after finally being given more pain medication. You made grabby hands towards Quinn and motioned for him to lay next to you like Trevor did before visiting hours started.

“Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?” Quinn asked as he cautiously laid down next to you.

“You’re just next to me, Quintin. I promise you, it’s okay,” you told him.

You kept motioning for him to come closer to you until you could comfortably lay your head against his shoulder.

“You haven’t called me Quintin in a while,” he said low. “Not much since you left middle school.”

“Middle school was hard,” you mumbled sleepily. “This is hard.”

Quinn turned his head and kissed your temple, “Quintin it is.”

– – –

Jamie cautiously stepped towards the bed when he knew that Y/N was asleep. He slowly sat down in the chair closest to the head of her bed, right next to Quinn.

“Can I?” Jamie asked him. He took her hand in his when he nodded yes. “I know I haven’t known her as long–”

“That doesn’t matter to her,” Quinn cut him off. “The day she met you, she called me and said I should be worried about you taking my place as her best friend. Sissy loves you, and she knows that you love her. She doesn’t care that you met what, three months ago? She loves everyone fiercely, and you’ve been deemed lucky enough to make that list.”

Trevor got up and placed his hands on Jamie’s shoulders, squeezing them supportively, “It was her idea to move you in.”

“Really?”

“She probably would’ve moved your stuff out from Lindholm’s with or without your permission,” he laughed.

“I’ve even heard about you from her,” Matthew told Jamie. “You’re here for her. You’re going to be one half of the two people taking care of her most of the time. And trust me, she cares about you. As long as you never wrong her, she’s going to be there for you for life.”

Jamie looked down and tried to hide a smile as he played with her fingers. He didn’t know what it was about her, but the second she met somebody, they loved her. Her charm, her humor, her boldness. Sissy is something special. And when she lets you in, truly lets you in, she makes sure you know you’re loved and that she would drop everything for you if you need her.

She loves being needed.

She loves being wanted.

Not everyone knew that this was killing her. Not everyone knew that her needing help and barely being able to do a thing for anyone else was going to be detrimental for her. But Jamie does. He hasn’t known her long, but he knows her. He knows that he might need to act like he needs her for something, even if he doesn’t, just to make her happy.

Jamie would do it for her. He will do it for her. Because everyone was right, once you know her, she’d drop anything for you, and he intends to do the same thing for her.

“Is she scared, Z?” Cole asked. Trevor pursed his lips. He didn’t want to expose her, but he was a terrible liar.

“She won’t tell me, but I saw the look in her eyes. I could feel her fear. I asked if she needed a moment and she told me that she’s fine and everyone back in the room would be a good distraction, but I know she’s petrified.”

“That’s a big word, Mr. Boston,” Quinn teased him. Trevor rolled his eyes and flicked him, not being able to do anything else since Y/N was laying against his shoulder. “She has you, Z. You’ll get her through it.”

“She has you, too. She has all of us,” Trevor added.

“And we have her,” Luke said. He still looked scared.

Jack threw his arm around his little brother, “And we have her.”

— — —

Today’s the day.

Today’s the day you have to go under for another surgery.

And everyone had the same fear. For some, it was slight. For others it was more than slight, but they know she needs the surgery. But the rest? The fear had taken over their entire being. And who are they? Trevor, Quinn, Jack, Luke, and you. They were internally losing their minds. They felt sick. And every tick of the clock made their chests feel tighter and tighter.

Trevor hasn’t done well with you out of his sight and he knows it’s going to be worse this time. He’s determined to not have to be sedated. He’s going to have away games. He’s going to have roadies. He’s going to have to learn how to cope. He can’t be eased into it. You’re going to be gone for hours, and he’ll have to sit by your bedside and wait for you to wake up again. He knows you’ll wake up, but that quiet voice deep inside his head telling him that you won’t is eating him alive.

Quinn had taken over the “Sissy” role. Jack had practically snapped, Luke was a mess and was dead silent when he wasn’t, Trevor couldn’t breathe half the time, and you need him, too. He’s the oldest. He feels like it’s his job. He’s always stepped up. He’s always been the big brother. He’s always done whatever he can and more for you. There’s just no one helping him.

Jack feels like he’s useless. He can’t do anything for you, and he’s going to have to go back to Jersey eventually. Scratch that— he’s going to have to go back soon and he won’t get to help you. He feels like you don’t need him when you have Quinn. You always need him. He’s your best friend, your better half, you’re everything to each other. You won’t need him when you have Trevor. Your boyfriend, your entire world. The person you live with. The person who needs you just as bad as you need him. The person you’ll get through this with. The person who’ll be there for you the entire time. Hell, you won’t need him when you have Jamie. You love him, and you barely know him. And he’s going to be with you the whole time. He doesn’t have to leave.

Luke could barely wrap his head around it. Everything was going too fast and he could barely keep up. He just got you, his sister, back and in a few hours he was going to have to go back to wondering when you’re going to wake up. He couldn’t hold on to your hand. He couldn’t fall asleep on you. He felt like he couldn’t be vulnerable. Not when everyone else is screaming, too. He just told his best friend that you’re going to be okay. He just told his best friend that he’s okay. One of those is a lie. The other one could be, too, only he doesn’t know that answer, yet.

And you? You don’t know that’s how everyone is feeling, because you can’t think of anything else other than your intense fear of not waking up. You couldn’t escape the cage the thought of dying was putting you in. You need this surgery. You need to get better. You know the doctors are prepared this time. You know that your medication has more or less left your system and that everything should be okay. But you don’t want to see everyone’s faces when you wake up again. Full of shock, almost as if they were seeing a ghost. And you know that a couple days after this surgery, you’ll be released. Which means everyone will have to leave you again. You’ve never had to experience anything this traumatic without your brothers. Never. You didn’t want them to go most of all. You’re beyond grateful that you’ll have Trevor, and Jamie told you he won’t be leaving you, but you need your brothers. Facetimes won’t be enough this time.

You were pulled out from your thought prison by a nurse informing you it was almost time for surgery and that everyone will need to clear out so that they can prep you. Everyone said their goodbyes, some longer than others, and Jack was the last one walking out the door. The heart monitor signaled that panic was taking over you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Jack!” you screamed. Tears were streaming down your face and your free hand was shaking. “Jack don’t–”

Jack pushed aside the nurse in the room and sat on the edge of your bed and gripped onto your hand.

“Sir–”

“She just needs a minute! Please,” Jack begged her. The nurse saw how close you were to a major freakout before Jack got to your side and left to stand outside the door. Jack took your hand in both of his and squeezed it tight, “It’ll be okay, Sissy. It will be. We all asked the surgeon every question possible. He’s done this surgery countless times.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” you asked shakily. “Right here. Holding my hand. Not Trevor or Quinn. You.”

Jack smiled and leaned over to kiss your forehead, “In the chair, or on the bed?”

“On the bed,” you answered.

“Then on the bed holding your hand is where I’ll be the second you open your eyes, Sissy,” Jack assured you. “I promise. Now you gotta be strong for us. Don’t fight the lovely nurses and doctors and surgeons that are here to help you. Just breathe, and now I’ll be sitting right here when it’s over.”

The nurses that came to wheel you off to the surgery unit told Jack he could walk with you until you reached the double doors, so he did. He held onto your hand and called out once again that he’ll be right next to you when you wake up when the doors came. You held back your tears. You wanted to be able to tell Jack that you were strong.

– – –

“Where did you go?” Luke asked Jack when he finally joined them in the waiting room.

“Sissy called out for me, so I calmed her down and walked with her to the surgical unit,” he explained. “I don’t know why–”

“She loves and needs you, too, Jack,” Ellen interrupted her son. “Just like everyone else.”

Jack smiled slightly, semi hating the fact that his mom knew exactly how he was feeling.

“She asked me to be sitting on her bed holding her hand when she wakes up,” he said softly, still happy that she wanted him. That she needed him.

“I’m only allowing that because she asked,” Trevor teased him.

“Of course you are, bud,” Jack laughed.

Jack sat down between his brothers and leaned back in his chair. All that there was to do now was wait. Something that was way too familiar to everyone here.

– – –

It was a long surgery, over four hours. But Jack was true to his word and parked himself on the edge of your bed and held your hand as he waited for you to come to. Every minute passed was agonizing. The doctors told everyone that you’d be waking up within an hour but that you’ll be very out of it and might not be awake for long. At the forty-six minute mark, everyone let out a breath.

Your groans caused all ten heads to snap towards you. Jack inched closer to you and used his free hand to pet your hair in the same way he used to do when he had to wake you up for school when you were sleeping through your endless alarms.

“Sissy?” he whispered. “Are you with us? Can you open your eyes for me?”

You tried to pull away from him but felt a surge of pain when you did. Jack worked to settle you back down and looked to Trevor for help.

“I normally kiss her to wake her up,” Trevor told him. “She calls it ‘waking up Disney princess style.’”

“Be my guest,” Jack laughed.

Trevor softly placed his hand to cup your face and bent down to softly kiss you, “Good morning, sweet girl. Can you open those pretty little eyes for me?”

You clenched your eyes once more before opening them up.

“Are you a Prince?” you asked dreamily. Luke had to hide into his mom’s shoulder to keep from laughing out loud.

“Sorry, sweet girl. I’m just your boyfriend,” Trevor replied.

You looked down when you noticed a hand was holding your hand. You followed the hand to the owner, and it was not the man who just told you he’s your boyfriend.

“Then who are you?” you asked the hand holder.

“I’m Jack, your brother. You asked me to sit on your bed and hold your hand for when you woke up,” the hand holder told you.

“I don’t have a brother,” you said, shaking your head.

Jack’s grip on your hand tightened and you could feel his fear.

“You– you don’t?” he asked tentatively. He was worried that the drugs had temporarily taken your mind back to before you moved in. Before you were old enough to know that family doesn’t have to be blood.

“No. I’m a cloud, I can’t have any brothers,” you said seriously.

“But you can have a boyfriend?” your boyfriend asked.

“You’re a cloud, too,” you told him. “You have fluffy cloud hair, Prince.”

“Trevor,” he told you with a soft laugh.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m pretty sure your name is Prince. Prince of the clouds. And I’m Princess of the clouds.”

“Clouds can have brothers,” Jack insisted. “You have three.”

Jack was starting to make sense. As you looked around the room at everyone else in the room, you saw two familiar faces that matched Jack’s story.

“I do have three!” you gasped. “Quintin, Jacky Boy, and Lukey Moosey!”

Jack lifted your hand and leaned his head against it, shaking his head and laughing, “I’m Jacky Boy, Sissy. Look at me.”

You looked at him again and really focused this time, “Jacky Boy! I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” he laughed.

You looked around the room and your smile grew exponentially at every person you saw. You couldn’t believe your whole world was here.

“Hi Mom, and Dad, and Coley, and Turcs, and Quintin, and Lukey Moosey, and Jamie Baby, and my rat! Matty! You’re here! You’re never here!”

Matthew moved over to the end of your bed and placed both hands on the edge of it, “I was worried about you, Little Mouse. That’s why we’re all here.”

Quinn came over next to Jack and Trevor, “You got hurt, remember? You just had another surgery.”

“No, Quintin,” you argued. “I’m a cloud. I can’t get hurt.”

“Well then you’re a medical marvel,” he said. “Because you got super hurt. Are you in pain?”

“Quintin, listen! I just told you, I’m a cloud. And Prince is a cloud. And Coley. I don’t know what the rest of you are, but we’re clouds.”

“What type of clouds are we?” Cole asked you.

“You and Prince look sad, so you’re nimbostratus clouds. But me? I’m a cumulus,” you told them, full of confidence.

“Did she just… use scientific cloud names?” Alex asked, laughing in disbelief.

“I think she did,” Luke said.

“We look sad because you’re hurt, Ms. Cumulus Cloud,” Trevor said. “But I’m really glad you don’t feel it.”

“I’m just doing my cloud thing,” you said as you yawned.

“Sleepy?” Ellen asked.

“Yeah, I’m a sleepy cloud,” you nodded. “But Jacky Boy needs to lay next to me so I can nap.”

“And why’s that?” Jack asked.

“You’re holding my hand. You need me. So you need to sleep next to me to fix that,” you said matter-of-factly.

Trevor and Quinn stepped out of the way so that Jack could carefully lay beside you.

“I’ll protect you,” you told him. “I need everyone to give me a kiss goodnight! Do you need any, Jacky?”

“I think I’m alright,” he smiled.

Jack leaned over and kissed your cheek. You smiled and nodded your head side to side in a dance-like motion as you made everyone else kiss your cheeks and forehead goodnight.

“And you, my Prince, need to kiss me on the lips four times,” you told him. “Because we say something to each other with four words. I don’t know what, but I know there’s four words.”

“I–” kiss. “Love–” kiss. “You–” kiss. “Forever.” kiss.

“What do I say?”

“You say ‘I love you, always,’” he smiled at you.

“I love you, always, Prince!”

“I love you, forever, Princess.”

– – –

The second time you woke up, you were much more lucid and aware of the situation. You weren’t in agony, but you weren’t exactly having fun. You lifted your head off of whoever’s shoulder you were laying on and groaned at the brightness of the room.

“Somebody needs to turn off the sun or I’m going to shoot it down myself,” you grunted with your eyes squeezed shut.

You didn’t know who, but someone fixed your problem, and you were able to slowly open your eyes. You looked out to see the window’s curtains were open and that it was actually dark outside.

One new face was in the room, Dylan.

You smiled at him, “Hi, baby boy.”

“I was kind of hoping I could see you shoot down the sun, but seeing you awake works, too, Sissy,” Dylan joked.

“Are you still a cloud, Princess?” Trevor asked you.

You turned your head to look at him, also acknowledging the fact that it was Jack next to you by a simple squeeze of his hand, confused.

“Cloud?”

“You were still out of it when you first woke up,” Trevor laughed. “You called me Prince, and you were hellbent on the fact that you were a cloud and that you couldn’t possibly be injured because of it.”

“Were we… all clouds?”

“I wish,” Quinn joked. “Only Z and Cole were clouds. Nimbostratus, to be exact. Not sure why you remembered the types of clouds.”

“Clouds are fucking cool, that’s why,” you sassed him.

“You’re lucky you’re hurt,” Quinn said in a jokingly warning tone.

“Or what? You’d lightly shove me? I’m so scared,” you teased him back. “You’re just jealous because I didn’t deem you a cloud. Suck it.”

It was nice finally feeling calm for the first time since you woke up. No one was terrified about the upcoming surgery now that it’s happened. No one was worried that you wouldn’t wake up again now that you have. It was almost fun being with everyone, it was just calmer than it normally is when you’re all together.

You shoved Jack aside so that Dylan could lay next to you because “you’ve missed your baby boy.”

“I’m your twin!” Jack protested.

“You’ve been laying with me,” you told him. “I’ve gone without seeing Duker longer and he’s my baby boy bestie brother!”

“I’m her alliteration,” Dylan said, smiling cheekily.

“Yeah, he’s my alliteration,” you copied his grin.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jack countered.

“You’re just jealous,” Dylan stuck his tongue out at him.

“Alright, alright,” you cut them off. “You’re both my boys, so calm down. You’ve had your turn.”

“Do we all get a turn?” Luke asked jokingly.

“Do we have to reserve times?” Jamie asked, laughing.

“You and Z will get me all season, but the rest of them? Yes. Someone make a list and play rock paper scissors for the order.”

“You’re a mess,” Trevor laughed. “My beautiful mess.”

“Damn right,” you jokingly smirked.

– – –

It wasn’t too long before visiting hours ended and you had to tell everyone goodbye. Trevor now had a bigger blanket for you two in the bed since you’d been cold and he wasted no time crawling in next to you when Quinn (the last one on the list to be next to you) got off the bed.

“Be good!” Quinn called out.

“We physically have to! Otherwise we would not!” you shouted back.

“I didn’t want to know that!”

“You’re welcome! I love you, bubs!”

“I love you, too, Sissy!”

“I’ll never understand you two,” Trevor laughed.

“Quinn and I are something I’ve never seen before. Not even in movies,” you said fondly. “I’m gonna keep it that way.”

“Are we?”

“My love, we’re everything.”

Trevor took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to it. When he dropped it, you tapped four times on your lips. Trevor smiled and repeated what he did when you first woke up.

“I–” kiss. “Love–” kiss. “You–” kiss. “Forever–” kiss.

“I love you, always,” you whispered to him. “How did you do while I was under?”

“Jamie helped a lot. I don’t know why watching The Hunger Games helps, but it does,” Trevor admitted.

“Because it’s my favorite series, obviously,” you smiled.

“No, I think it’s because there’s a lot of Katniss in you,” he told you. “You’d do anything for those you love, especially your brothers. You stick up for what’s right. You’ve been through hell and you’re still surviving. You’re Katniss.”

You blushed and played with his fingers, unsure of what to say to that.

“Does that make you Peeta?”

“I was thinking I’m more like Finnick,” Trevor laughed.

“Well, he was my first love. So, I guess that’s fitting.”

“Your first love?” Trevor teased you. “Am I nothing to you?”

“Hey! Quinn officiated a wedding for me and Finnick!”

“Then I guess he’ll have to officiate ours,” Trevor smiled.

“Trevor Zegras, are you talking about marriage in a hospital?”

“Not right now, but if this experience has taught me anything, it’s that you’re the one.”

“Sap,” you smiled.

You were beat, and surprised that you’d stayed awake for so long with all the pain medication in you. But now that it was only Trevor with you, you felt safe. You felt at peace. You felt at home. You laid your head on his shoulder and let yourself drift off to the sounds of Catching Fire in the background. You weren’t scared to fall asleep tonight. You weren’t scared that something was going to happen to Trevor. For the first time in three days, you felt good.

– – –

At 9:34am, all of your paperwork was finished and you were free to go home. You, Jamie, Trevor, Ellen, and Jim were all given a breakdown of how to take care of you, pain medication times, and other stuff like that. Jim and Ellen would be staying a little longer with you in the beginning before they’ll have to go back home. Trevor and Jamie would be the ones doing it the most after your parents left, and they needed to be fully prepared to teach Dani when she’d come to help you on roadies. Ellen volunteered, but Dani was quite persistent.

You were sent off with some strong sedatives to help with the car ride home. You were glad, too, because even with them you were still in some major discomfort. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like without them.

Everyone was staying one more night before they had to go back to their own teams. You really didn’t want to have to be moved much, so Trevor and Quinn got you situated in yours and Trevor’s room and everyone would be in there until you decided it was time for bed.

First thing first, however, was a nap. The medication had made you so tired and you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. You had to lay pillows in between you and Trevor, which was terrible, but you could lay directly next to him while you napped since he would be staying awake. Everyone else went to the living room while Trevor gently held your hand and kissed your forehead to send you off to sleep.

– – –

Quinn didn’t wait too long before slipping back into the bedroom, “How’s she doing?”

“She hasn’t had to have the lower pain medications yet, so she's okay,” Trevor told him. “I’m not excited about that.”

“I’m not excited about leaving her,” Quinn said softly.

“Trust me, she isn’t either.”

The two boys talked quietly for a while to distract themselves from the predicament. Trevor couldn’t imagine what Quinn must be feeling. Trevor gets to stay with you; Quinn doesn’t. That’s been a common feeling throughout all of this.

“You’ll take care of her, right?” Quinn asked Trevor with tears threatening to fall out of his eyes.

“I’ll do everything I can and more for her. Always,” Trevor assured him.

“You better,” Quinn said softly.

All Quinn could do was look at you. Your bruised face looked better, but you still looked so frail and small that it hurt him. He had to make tonight and tomorrow count, but he knew that you’d be sleeping through a lot of it.

“Um… listen, if Luke needs her, she will kick you out of this bed. Same if she needs me or Jack or Luke or–”

“You can sleep next to her until you have to leave,” Trevor cut him off. “I know that’s what you really want. I’ll take the floor.”

You roughly heard the last of their conversation as you were slowly waking up, “Did you say Lukey needs me? Trevor, move your ass for him.”

“See?” Quinn laughed. “He doesn’t need you, but I’m sure he’d love to lay with you. Do you want everyone back in here?”

You sleepily nodded and continuously held your arm out until Luke came in.

“Lukey!” you cheered when he entered the room at the end of the herd of your loved ones. Luke laughed as he crawled into the bed and snuggled up close to you, “Good nap, Sissy?”

“Very,” you said.

“Oh! I want in on cuddles!” Dylan shouted. You laughed even more as he settled next to Luke and laid his head on his shoulder.

“You two are a mess,” you shook your head. “I love it.”

“This gonna be us when everyone leaves, Z?” Jamie joked.

“It better be!” you exclaimed.

Because you’d been in a coma for your weekly movie night with Cole and Alex, you decided that you’d watch the movie with everyone in your room. Blankets and pillows were handed out and people were all around the room. Jack and Jamie brought in the two arm chairs from the living room for Jim and Ellen to sit in, and everyone else was roughing it on the floor.

You sent Matty, Quinn, and Cole to get snacks and drinks for everyone, and Alex set the movie up.

“What movie have you deemed worthy enough to watch that’s not The Hunger Games, girly?”

“Top Gun,” you said with a grin.

“Yes! Finally!” Trevor cheered.

You barely watched the movie. You watched your friends and family instead. This experience is just as hard on them as for you, if not more. They deserve peace. They deserve a moment of calm, a moment of happiness. Before they all had to leave and, undoubtedly, worry.

“You okay?” Luke whispered to you.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered back.

And for once, you were.

– – –

The goodbyes were hard, because they lasted all day. First Matty left, then Cole, then Dylan and Luke, then Jack, then Alex. Alex could’ve stayed, and he’ll be back frequently, but Quinn leaving last meant a lot to you. It was needed.

“You’ll call every day, right?” you asked him. Your lip was wobbling and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Every minute that I can. I promise,” Quinn answered. “Be good to Trevor and Jamie.”

“Now that, I can’t promise,” you tried to joke.

Quinn kissed your forehead and squeezed your hand one last time before he left with your parents to go to the airport. You immediately started to sob when the door closed. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You’d been crying all day as people left, but Quinn made you lose it. Trevor hated it because he couldn’t pull you into his arms and hold you to comfort you. You hated it for the same reason. You had to settle for leaning against his chest with his hand holding your right, and his other petting your hair.

“It’s alright, sweet girl,” Trevor cooed. “He’ll be back soon. We play against the Canucks the first week of November. I know his coach will let him stay here instead of at the hotel. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Say it,” you cried.

“Say what?” he asked, confused. “I love you?”

“No, my name. Say it,” you choked out.

Trevor felt a pang in his heart. This has never happened. You never needed Quinn so much that you wanted Trevor to call you by your nickname.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sissy. I’ll make sure of it,” Trevor said low. “I promise.”

“Do you need anything?” Jamie asked you warily. He’d never seen you cry this hard.

You rapidly shook your head no as you clung to Trevor as much as you could.

“Some ice water,” Trevor said. “With a straw, please.”

Jamie got up and went to the kitchen while Trevor continued to try and sooth you. Jamie was back quick and Trevor gently guided the straw to your mouth.

“Drink for me, sweet girl. That’s all you gotta do.”

The ice always helps. The sudden coldness triggers some slight pain receptors to pull you out of a panicked state, so it was a quick fix when you weren’t too far gone.

“There’s my girl,” Trevor cooed. “It’s okay.”

You calmed down, but some tears were still falling.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled.

“What for?”

“I need you, too. Not just Quinn. I really need you and I don’t want you to think that I–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Trevor interrupted. “I know you do. Quinn’s been with you for the hardest parts of your life. You always cry when he leaves. This isn’t any different. I love you, okay? Forever. You needing Quinn isn’t going to change that.”

“I love you, always,” you whispered.

You were worn out and were falling asleep against Trevor’s chest.

“Jamie Baby,” you weakly called out. “Come to bed. It’s nap time.”

Jamie smiled and slowly got into the bed next to Trevor. He leaned over and kissed your forehead, something you once again demanded, before laying against the pillows.

“I love you, Jamie Baby,” you said. “So, so much.”

“I love you, too, Y/N/N,” Jamie said back.

“And I love you, too, Trevy. Always.”

Trevor tilted your head towards him, “I–” kiss. “Love–” kiss. “You–” kiss. “Forever–” kiss.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3

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xhoneygirlxx · 7 months

Text

Still Adore You (With Your Hand Around My Neck)

Epilogue: Destroy Myself

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: this is the beginning of the end. the start of a chaotic relationship you just can't seem to leave.

warnings: Eddie and Reader are in their 20s. Modern Au! kind of mean Eddie. rated R for smut, 18+ only Minors DNI!! unprotected p in v. cream pie. swearing. shitty writing and grammar errors.

*if i miss anything let me know*

a/n: hello my loves! this is part one to my still adore you series! i hope you guys like it as much as i do. thank you all for the love and support you've given me, i love you all so much <3

Also if you are an ageless/faceless blog you will be blocked. please have something on your profile so I know you are not a minor and are not a bot.

series masterlist

I pray my salvation makes it to the pearly gates,

Bring the suffering that I face,

All the things that I face,

Destroy myself just to wait for you.

When God created the Earth, he picked two of his children to live amongst the paradise he built to be our parents - Adam and Eve. The Garden of Eden was beautiful, a place like no other. The only rule that God gave was for them to not eat from the one tree, the tree of knowledge of right and wrong, good and evil.

They had plenty of other trees to eat from, other fruits to feast on, but when the serpent came speaking words of temptation, Eve gave into him and took a bite from the forbidden fruit, Adam would soon follow after her.

Because of the rule was broken and they went against God, they were banished forever and were cursed with the pain of mortality. Their children and their children's children would face pain and sorrow, hurt and sickness, and ultimately death.

Like Eve, you gave into temptation as well, the warnings you received and how you ignored them all for the name of love. From the very first time you met Eddie Munson warning signs flashed, blinding you with the bright lights. Caution tape blocked you from crossing that line but you inevitably ignored it, ducting under it and continuing on your way.

You walked straight into the line of fire for the promise of nirvana, for just a taste of the sweetness of his love. For the longest time you thought Eve was stupid for falling for the devil's tricks but when he came to you with the prettiest brown eyes and lips that you wanted to kiss for hours, you finally understood.

Dying by the hands of the man that you love is probably the worst death. His strong grip squeezing the air out of you so slowly, smiling at you as he did it felt like torture, but what a way to go. You'd still adore Eddie with his hand wrapped around your neck, with his heavy palm crushing your windpipe, and you'd die so full of love.

The night breeze cools the heat of your skin, hitting your sweat soaked hairline and creating chills that ran up the skin of your arm. The night was still young as they say, the party inside still going in full force. Sweat bodies and clouds of smoke filled every room, creating a sort of heat that quickly became too unbearable.

Quickly finding refuge in crackling embers of the firepit. Unknown people and nameless faces fill the chairs around you, mingling with one another. Despite the happy nature and good vibe of the atmosphere around you, you sit with a permanent frown. Pissed isn't even the word you'd want to use for how you feel at the moment.

Furious, enrage, even spitting angry would be a better description for how you felt towards your friends right now. A random house party in a random place was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night, but then Annika and Nikki looked at you with their big pleading eyes and the end was history.

"We'll stick next to you the whole time," they said, "We promise we won't leave."

Only an hour in and their promise was nothing but a lie, leaving you the minute you stepped through the threshold shouting that they'd return shortly. You didn't expect any less honestly, Annika only wanted to come here for the possibility of hooking up and Nikki was more interested in the arrival of her possible new girlfriend Val.

You always found something to do whether it was people watching or drinking until your vision began to blur. Tonight was different however, being the designated driver you were banned from drinking any alcohol and people watching was only fun for the first forty five hours.

Now you sit playing on your phone, scrolling through every app on your phone until your friends finally arrived. You continue to look at the bright screen in your hands reading through old notes that you had yet to delete, too engrossed by the amount of grocery lists to realize that half of the group left the circle.

"You know this is a party, right?" A gruff voice asks.

Lifting your head slightly, you look up from under your eyelashes to the man across from you, scowl written on your lips. The orange glow highlights him in the best of ways, making him even more alluring.

Brown curls fall from the the bun that sits on top of his head, framing his face so beautifully. His lips pull into a smirk, making the deep crevice of his dimples pop out. Big doe eyes sparkle at you, glimmering in the heat of the flames.

His outfit is basic, a band tee with a faded logo, showing off how well loved it was. The holes in his black skinny jeans show off the tiniest hint of black ink that hides beneath the fabric. The fire and moon fight over the rings that sit on his hands, both going back and forth on which one glints in the silver. A loose cigarette sits tucked behind his ear and a sweating bottle of beer rests in his strong hands.

He's captivating, alluring you like the serpent did Eve. You don't engage, promptly scoffing and then rolling your eyes back down to your phone.

"You know my uncle always said if you roll them hard enough, they'll get stuck."

You hear it before you see it, the grin that sits on his face. It adds gasoline to the already burning inferno that rests inside of you adding turbulence, causing roaring flames.

"Good, hope they do." It's bitchy, ice cold like a winter's breeze. Instead of hurling an insult that you, he laughs. A true genuine laugh that you'd compliment if it weren't for the anger pumping through you.

Shutting your phone off, you drop it into your lap and cross your arms over your chest. Sighing loudly, you look at the curly haired man across from you unimpressed, eyebrow arching sharply.

He takes your challenge of a stare down, watching you over the glass of his beer bottle as he puts it to his lips taking a swig. His gaze in unfaltering but yours isn't. It's not your fault though, not when his neck looks so delicious as he swallows every last drop.

Removing the bottle from his mouth, he catches you eyeing the plump of his lips. Even though you've been caught, your stare doesn't waver, only moving the line of your sight back up to his eyes.

"Ya know, it's not really nice to be mean to your friend." His statement causes another eye roll from you, another loud scoff pulling from your throat.

"You're not my friend," Your words swim with annoyance and it only fuels the man in front of you even more.

Gasping loudly, a ringed hand clutches his chest as if he'd been insulted to the fullest. "I'm not you're friend? I thought the warmth of the fire cemented our relationship."

He curls his lips inwards, biting back a laugh that threatens to sneak it's way out. You're not any better, your bottom lip stinging with the pressure of your teeth that sink into it.

Silences covers the two of you, begging for one of you to break first. Although you put up the toughest of fights, you're the first to lose, a small giggle escaping the lock on your lips. The man isn't far behind you, snorting loudly into the quiet night air.

"First of all, I don't even know your name." You counter, mentally berating yourself for letting a laugh squeak out.

"Oh, you need my name?" He asks, eyebrows raising curiously.

Your eyes squint at the absurdness of his question, "Yeah, that's how making friends works, genius."

Batting his eyelashes, he waves a hand at you in flattery. "I love it when you call me sweet names."

His voice is flirty teasing you to the fullest and if you don't do something fast you're going to melt, and not because the heat of the flames.

"That's my cue to leave." Pushing yourself halfway up from the chair, you're immediately stopped by his arm waving you to stop.

"No, no I quit, I promise." It's said between breathless laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he does.

Smirking ever so slightly, you bask in the sound of his voice. Sitting down slowly, you sigh as if you'd rather not be here regardless of the growing smile tugging at your lips.

Once sat back in your seat, you wait with a tapping foot and crossed arms, trying your hardest to look annoyed. He looks at you smugly, like he's enjoying the little performance you put on.

"If I tell you my name, you gotta tell me yours." He demands, you don't respond just pulling your hand out to inspect the acrylics that rest on your hand.

"I'm Eddie." He beams at you, rolling his tongue over his bottom lip.

You purse your lips, looking him up and down as if you're bored. When you give him your name, he nods slowly and repeats it like it's the prettiest thing he's heard.

"Well there you go, now we're friends." The depth of his voice makes the beat of your heart skip, cheeks burning the more you get flustered.

Shaking it off, you give him a look that the kind that reads "really?", and he only answers by returning a look that says "of course". Sucking your teeth, you look down at the blue fabric of your jeans.

"We can't be friends if we don't even hang out." It's shy, your confidence subsiding harshly under the heat of his eyes.

Now he scoffs, shaking his head back and forth causing the loose curls to move with him. "Don't do me like that, Pookie. Just gimme your number and I'll hang out any time your little heart desires."

"You did not just call me fucking Pookie." You laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach.

You don't see him but Eddie just looks at you like you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, adoration swimming in the dark color of his eyes.

When your laughter ceases and you fall back into your normal position, you open your eyes to see him looking at you. For the first time in your life you finally see what it's like to be looked at as if you hung the stars in their place. It feels good, heart racing and air catching in the back of your throat.

Blinking out of your trance, you nod shakily. "Umm, you said something about my ugh number?"

Eddie reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and tapping in the code to unlock it. Handing it over to you wordlessly, it's already open to the new contact screen where you punch in the ten digit number. You ponder for a moment before typing in a name, flicking back and forth between the options you have, until you ultimately adding it under your given nickname with a black heart.

Handing it back to him, he looks at it smirking and then puts it back into its rightful home of his pocket. Opening his mouth to say something Eddie is interrupted with the sound of the backdoor opening and the rush of the music inside pouring from the doorway.

"Hey, we've been looking for you!" Annika shouts, stumbling towards you on unsteady feet.

Looking at the clearly tipsy girl, you turn back around to see give a sympathetic look to Eddie, quietly apologizing for your drunken friend.

"I guess that's my que to go." You shrug, moving from your spot on the chair.

Eddie only looks at you tenderly, dimples on full display for you. "Go ahead, Pookie. I'll see you later."

Sending you off with a wink, you walk away from the sanctuary you found. Walking over to your friend, you can't help but look back at the pretty boy you met finding him already smiling back at you.

Threading your arm in your friend's, you allow her to put her weight onto you so she doesn't fall. Unfocused eyes scan to where you keep looking, squinting to find the person.

"Who's that?" She keeps squinting, trying hard to see the man's features.

When her eyes seem to make out what she looks like, she perks up with a dopey smile. "Oh my fucking gawd, he's hot."

Saying it a little too loudly, you instantly clap your hand over her mouth and look back to make sure Eddie hasn't heard. You find him shaking his head, shoulders shaking with a clear laugh as he lights the cigarette that hangs between his teeth.

"Hope you got his number, would be a shot missed if you didn't." She chastises once you remove your palm from her lips. You sigh loudly and pull her along and make your way into the house.

Eddie kept his promise, using all his free time over the summer to see you. It started off innocently enough, late night drives down to the lake, midafternoon hangouts in the Dairy Queen parking lot where you’d sit in the bed of his beat up truck, and hanging out in his apartment watching him play video games.

Friends, that’s all it was in the beginning. Two people opening up to one another, bonding over their shitty childhoods and laughing at jokes that no one else ever understood.

As the heat of the roaring sun became more intense, so did the relationship between the two of you. Touches became lingering like the tickle of the tall overgrown grass by the lake. Kisses were light and airy, reminiscent of the lightning bugs that flew around in the dark summer sky. Eddie’s scent lingered with you even after you’d gone home, similar to sunscreen.

Tangled sheets and messy hair, flustered cheeks and dopey smiles. The two of you shined so bright even the stars that hung from the dark blue night were jealous.

But when the sunsets came sooner and sooner, so did the end of your fairytale. Calls became unanswered, hangouts were no more, and hand holding became totally off limits. What was once warm and sickly sweet smiles, was now cold shoulders and icy attitudes.

You felt stupid, falling for someone that wasn’t even yours. Giving Eddie your heart on a platter when he never even asked. When this all started you knew what it was, signing your soul over to the devil using your blood as ink.

The risks were in plain sight, the rules agreed on with the locking of pinkies, and yet you still broke them. Eddie told you over and over again this wasn’t anything other than some fun, a way to pass the boring summer days faster.

And although it hurt, you still plunged the sword deeper and deeper. What is love without some loss?

The mahogany teakwood candles that burns on the top of your dresser does nothing to get rid of the smell that you and Eddie have created. Notes of dark oat and frosted lavender are being drowned out by sweat and sex.

Cotton sheets soak up the perpetration, the outline of his body imprinted to remind you that he was once there, the only lingering memory of him when he inevitably leaves. Cheeks flushed with red, screaming claw marks on alabaster skin, and bruises in the shape of teeth.

"Fuck, squeezin' me s'good, baby." Eddie's all gritted teeth and panting breath as he wiggles around underneath you.

The ache in your knees is no match for the burn you feel in the pit of your stomach, your hole clenching around the thickness of his cock. Switching between bouncing and rocking your hips, you're hurdling closer and closer to the edge.

Sentences aren't even forming in your brain, only random blabbering falls from your lips in loud whines with the way he punches into your cervix.

"S'good, shit you feel so good." It comes out like a sob, ripped right out from the depths of your soul.

Big strong hands grip at the plush of your hips, finger prints threatening to leave a mark for the next day. A wicked grin forms on red kiss bitten lips, basking in the glory of you crumbling on top of him.

"Yeah? Is it good, princess?" Arrogant and cocky, two traits that only he can pull off without it being a turn off.

Your head wildly bobs, drool escaping from your parted lips. "Uh huh," the only real response you can give him in this very moment and it's all he needs to know he's fucked you dumb beyond repair.

Bending his knees, Eddie starts to fuck up into you with unwavering force. The thatch of course hair that sits at the base of his cock catches deliciously on your swollen and neglected clit, resulting in harsh mewl.

With your own eyes screwed shut you don't see that his have rolled into the back of his head, jaw unhinged with the pleasure of you clasping around him tightly. Regardless of his own peak nearing, Eddie continues to keep up with his facade, making sure you finish way before he does.

"I'm so deep huh? S'deep, shit- so deep in this tight f-uhh, fucking cunt." Teeth bite down on the fat of his bottom lip, holding the whimpers from escaping from his mouth.

The speed of his movements, the loud squelch of your juices, and the intensity of him hitting into your g-spot is enough to make your head dizzy. He's everywhere, his touch, his scent, his voice. He's everywhere, all around you and you don't think that anything else in the world could create the same euphoric feeling he does.

"M'gonna-, ah I'm gonna cum." The end is closing in on you, the wave of ecstasy crashing into the shore. Although it feels so good crossing the finish line, you know when it's over he'll be gone all too soon.

"Me too, sweetheart. Motherfuck-, cum for me." The act that he had put on has finally faltered, cracking right at the seams.

That does it, pushes you right off the edge into the blissful waters of your high. Your already weakening knees have now failed you, letting you drop onto the slick soaked skin of Eddie's tattooed chest.

The two of you continue to whimper and moan as your highs ripple through you. Both of you create lightning, a pair of super bolts roar in the middle of your quiet bedroom. In the heat of your bliss, you're completely ignorant to the consequences of such strong power being created. No matter what the outcome is, at least it was beautiful and for the smallest of moments, it was real.

After the glory has finally wore off you remove yourself from him, letting out a strong hiss when the feeling of him is completely out of you. Letting your body fall to the plushness of your mattress, you allow yourself to cycle through the memory of it all.

Naked chests heave, a silence pulling over both of you like a heavy quilt in the winter. It's comfortable like this, the heat radiating off of your skin mixes with Eddie's, the pumping of hearts syncing into the same rhythm pattern.

While your body settles into the softness of your bed, Eddie's is quick to jump up from his spot with a loud grunt. Fresh red marks flash at you, decorating the smooth skin of his back along with the pretty freckles you used to trace with the soft flesh of your finger tips.

As he sits on the side of your bed catching his breath, you wonder if he misses the feeling of your touch the way you miss his skin. You wonder if he misses the intensity of your body next to his, arms and legs tangled together buried underneath the shelter of his comforter. You wonder if his bed misses the shape of your body the way yours misses his.

The springs of your mattress groan when the weight of his body leaves and for a moment you feel the same way. Footsteps are muted by the fibers of your carpeting. You watch from your spot as Eddie grabs a tissue from your vanity, wiping himself free of any evidence of you and then disposing it into the garbage can with a careless toss.

Muscles flex as he begins to redress himself, hiding the masterpiece that you left on his skin. You hope that they sting when he's under the heated water of his shower, a pang that will go away within a few days while the pang of your hurt will last a lifetime.

His messy curls pull from the neck of his shirt, shaking with the motions of his head trying to get rid of the unruly hair that masks his vision. From the singular foot away that the two of you stand, you pray that he won't leave, that this isn't the end.

"Do you wanna stay? W-we could watch a movie or something." Behind the sincerity of your voice is a girl that mourns the loss of her once best friend, begging him to remember what the two of you had in the beginning.

The clang of his belt ricochets through the room, an uncomfortable hallow sound that you wish to forget. Spinning on the socked heel of his foot, he gives you a blank face. One so devoid of emotion, cold and vacant.

"Don't start doin' this, Pookie. You already know what this is." A clear warning given with a strict tone.

The nickname that used to cause butterflies only brings mountains of sadness. It used to have meaning, a funny inside joke between the two of you now dwindled down to the name of a place holder.

"I just thought-" Going unfinished by the sound of Eddie's deep sigh.

"Not tonight, kay?" He says as nicely enough to placate you and even though you know nothing will come from it, you're still full of hope.

Bending down, he begins to slide his feet into his shoes, the same one's you gifted to him only so many months ago. Watching him tie the browning shoelaces of his vans, you wonder if he remembers the way you smiled while handing him the box, or how he felt when you said you got them just because.

It tugs at your already bandaged heart, the sticky adhesive of band aids doing their absolute best to keep the muscle intact. The rattle of the remaining broken pieces rattle in your ears, muffling everything else around you.

The lanky man stands to full height, grabbing his beloved leather jacket from your floor where it was left in the tornado of excitement. Rounding the end of your bed he makes his way to you, standing over your still naked body.

Bending at the waist, Eddie places a wet kiss on your forehead and pulls away with charming smile.

"I'll text you, pook."

You nod at his words, gripping on tightly to the faith that this whole thing will work out the way you hope. Giving you a wink, Eddie quickly exists your room and just like that you crumble.

On the wet sheets of your bed you curl into yourself, naked and vulnerable in more ways than one. Tears leak from your eyes and sobs rip from the depths of your stomach. It hurts watching him walk out because you never know when it'll be the last time.

You try to think back to when everything changed, where it all went wrong. All of the flashbacks and memories flood your brain, a film wheel of all the happy moments. More tears flow, a nonstop river of all the heartache.

You miss him, what your friendship used to be. At this point you don't even care if he loves you the way you love him, you just want him to care for you like he did all those months ago.

You wish you could go back to that warm summer day where you handed over your heart and let him carve his name in it, so that no matter what you did you'd belong to him for the rest of your days.

thank you all for reading!! i hope you guys like part one :)

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #still adore you

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gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 6

Warnings: Some subtle smut!! Dubious consent!!! Please don't read if you're uncomfortable with unclear consent. Crying during intimacy. Profanity!! Swearing!! Ferran and Martin!!!!!!!!!! ESP MARTIN!!! I'm sorry

Word Count: 11.0K

A/N: please be nice about this one. Is it fantastic? I personally don't think so. But the story needs to progress somehow. God I want to be asleep.

Also, I just want to say that I have taken some, ehem, artistic liberties with time and space in this story. Did you guys know that Real Sociedad is like 5 hours from Barcelona? I didn't. So I don't want to hear any "This is unrealistic because-" shhhh. I know there was a WC this year - I'm pretending there wasn't. I know the Ballon D'or ceremony is in October - surprise, now it's at the end of July. I know it doesn't make any sense for Martin to live next to Gavi because his club is based on the other side of Spain, but for this story, they're neighbors because I said so. Just live in imagination now and suspend your disbelief. Please and thank you <3

"You should start sleeping here."

You looked over your shoulder in confusion, still in the process of tying your shoes.

"What?"

You had never expected Martin to proposition you like this. For the first couple months of you relationship, he had been distant, kind of aloof, just happy to be there, but never exerting much effort into you. The relationship was, for lack of better terms, convenient. But something in him changed when you told him that you had been taking Gavi home. Suddenly, he was ready to become a doting boyfriend. He offered to drive you to work, to bring you lunch, to pick you up from games. If you declined these offers, then he was messaging you, sending you pictures, and he always, without fail, called you on your drive home. You had on multiple times asked him to stop this embarrassing behavior, but it had fallen on deaf ears. He would call you to tell you how much he missed you, how much he wanted to hold you, begging you to come over, all while Gavi squirmed uncomfortably in the passenger seat. Whenever you dropped Gavi off, you would get suggestive text messages, detailing all the things Martin wanted to do to you. Whenever you replied that you weren't in the mood, that you would rather just cuddle and go to bed, you always got the same response:

[Martin]: maybe u should just go home then. come over when ur not tired.

You had now driven Gavi home for 15 days, and Martin was getting stranger and stranger with each passing day. And now, he had gone from seeing you maybe once a week to wanting you to spend the night? You knew jealousy when you saw it, and it was getting on your nerves.

"You drive little Gavi home every day, and then you have to go all the way back to your place. I care about you so much, and I don't want you driving that late at night. So when you leave late, like on match days, you should just spend the night here."

You stood up, moving to grab your coat. You liked Martin, you liked spending time with him, but the idea of spending the night at his place weekly made your stomach uneasy, and you were hit with a wave of nausea.

"I don't know Martin. It's a really sweet offer, but I have a lot of things at my house. It would be a hassle to store scrubs and toiletries and makeup here, and-"

He held his hands up in an 'I surrender' motion, cutting you off.

"Listen, Barca has a game at home this week, don't they? Spend the night here after - try it out. If you don't like it, you can stop." He said, looking at you expectantly. A knot formed in your throat. You wanted to protest, but didn't know how. Martin liked you and put up with you. He was nice to you and was now offering to take your relationship to the next level. So how could you tell him that the idea made you want to throw up?

"Um, yeah, sure. I can do that. I... I need to go now. I'll see you in a few days?"

"Drive safe, baby. I'll text you when I get back from Madrid." He stood from his seat, walking over to you and pulling you into him, placing a deep kiss onto your lips. You returned the sentiment, trying as much as possible to rekindle the spark you felt for Martin when you first met. It was now a dying ember, but one you were desperately trying to keep alive. As weird as he made you feel at times, anything was better than the days when you were alone, sleeping in a cold bed with only the company of the TV and your house plants.

You closed Martin's front door, walking to your car quickly to avoid the bitter winter chill. As soon as you shut the driver door, you pulled up your contacts, looking for Angelika. If you were honest, Martin's overbearing nature had been causing you extreme bouts of anxiety, preventing you from sleeping, causing you to bite your nails bloody whenever the thought of him saying the L word ever crossed your mind. Would you say it back?

You called Angelika, the dial tone ringing throughout your car as you started to drive. After about 4 rings, the line connected.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked, rushed and out of breath, a hint of irritation in her tone.

"Nothing much," you replied, thrown off by the harsh answer. "Are you okay? You sound annoyed."

"I am annoyed. Our model casting director is so fucking incompetent that he thought he could book models for fucking fashion week the week before. So now, all the girls we usually work with and have the measurements for are booked. Taken by Balenciaga and fucking Paco Rabbane."

"I didn't know Balenciaga still showed at Barcelona fashion week." You replied, deciding to park your car on a side street. You slumped back in your seat.

"They don't. Our equally as incompetent head designer failed to mention we had been invited to show in Paris. So now we have no models, no measurements, and we are showing at Paris Fashion Week. I've been sleeping on the couch in the studio all week remaking and altering garments."

"But it's only November. You don't show in Paris until the end of February."

"You think any of the idiots that work above me are going to work from December 15th until January 15th? I need to get everything approved to be part of the collection before they go on vacation or I'm fucked."

"I'm so sorry Ang," you said softly, frowning slightly at your phone. You resonated with her pain - it was soul-crushing to put your best efforts forward and have it hindered by others more powerful than you. You knew how hard she had worked, and how much of a dream PFW had been - now it was becoming a borderline nightmare.

"It's fine, I'll get through it. Did you call for something? Or just a check-in?" She asked, her voice muffled slightly by the whir of the sewing machine. You brought your nails back to your lips, biting down on the surrounding skin.

"Just checking in," you lied, swallowing back your own frustrations, "I hadn't heard from you in a while, so I wanted to make sure you're okay. We should catch up when everything cools down, yeah?" You spoke softly, scared that if you raised your voice any higher you would cry. You felt like you were drowning, overwhelmed by everything going on in your life, crushed by the thousand feelings going on at once, but that was your burden - not Angelika's. You would deal with it by yourself like you usually did.

You exchanged goodbyes with your friend, hanging up the line and then slamming your head into the steering wheel, not caring about the potential bruise that could be forming as a result. The tears were flowing freely now. Your breath was ragged, coming out in short sobs and hiccups as you let out your frustration. The more you thought about the last two weeks, the more it felt like your throat was closing up. Your vision was completely blurry, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Your memories went back to that God forsaken meeting. The one that followed the last home game at Camp Nou, after Ferran had proclaimed rather loudly that you were creating an uncomfortable situation in the locker room. You had arrived at work at 7:15 that day, unable to sleep the night before, spending over an hour in the shower trying to was Martin's grabby touch off your skin, and staring at the ceiling in fear of your reprimanding. You had looked perfect - hair pulled back, uniform scrubs and shoes immaculately clean. You were expecting to be called into Dr. Gonzalez's office some time around 10am, after the players had already began morning training. Rather, you received a sharp knock on your office door at 7:45. Dr. Gonzalez stood there, stoic as usual, and uttered the most terrifying sentence you had heard in recent memory.

"Mister Xavi wants to see you in his office."

You walked behind him like your legs were made of lead. Several of the players greeted you as they passed, but you returned none of it. Your head was swimming in fear - how bad was it that you needed to be in Xavi's office before morning training. As you knocked on the office door, your mouth had gone dry, and you were shaking like a leaf.

"Enter."

Gavi watched your face pale as you entered the room escorted by Dr. G, and he felt a pit form at the base of his stomach. He knew it wasn't necessarily a positive thing for Ferran to have complained about you, but he never thought that the repercussions would be this severe. A meeting in Xavi's office before morning training often meant a firing. He was frozen in place, unmoving long after the office door had shut, the shove from Pedri being the only thing to make his feet move forward.

You and Dr. Gonzalez were instructed to sit in front of Xavi, one of the assistant coaches leaning on the wall behind him. The crossed hands and deep silence sent a chill through you that you couldn't shake from your bones. You had never been in a position like this before: you were the good kid. The kid who never went to speak to the principal unless it was to receive an award. You had been the perfect teacher's pet, who got along with every authority figure you ever encountered. But now, the face of deep disappointment staring at you was one that you had never encountered before.

"Ms. L/N, I believe you understand why you are in here, but I will explain it plainly. I heard that yesterday before the game, there was a situation in which you were escorted from the locker room because o the complaints of a player. I have spoken with this player, and he has informed me that this is not the first time you have made him uncomfortable. In fact, he attributes his worsening performance to discomfort that you have caused."

Your face was pale. You were holding back tears and vomit. You tried to slow your breathing and heart rate, because the last thing you needed was to have an anxiety attack.

"Obviously, this is not a good look. You are a new hire, and we cannot have the auxiliary staff impacting the players. The assistance coaches, Dr. Gonzalez and I all had an extensive conversation about terminating your program contract."

Your heart beat was in your ears, the bile rising in your throat, suffocating you slowly. This was your dream job, in your hands, and it was quickly slipping through your finger tips because one of the players couldn't stand you refusing to sleep with him. The tears were flowing at this point - it was beyond your control. Everything you had every worked for was disappearing before your very eyes.

"However, Dr. Gonzalez and assistant coach Marco here advised me against it. They instructed me to speak to several players, all who had nothing but glowing praise to say about you. Balde said that he would refuse to play if anything were to happen to your job. So, we have decided to keep you here with us. However, we wanted to take this as an opportunity to remind you: players are the priority. You'll be out of the locker room until further notice. If we get any further complaints about you calling issues, we'll have to consider other people. And your pre-work sessions with Gavi? Those will have to stop. Favoritism doesn't contribute to a positive work environment."

You nodded, tears burning your skin as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure in front of the man keeping your job safe. Dr. Gonzalez stood to leave, and you followed him silently. Xavi called to you before you left his office.

"It's your good work that kept you here. But it won't be enough to keep you here."

You slammed your head against the steering wheel again. What else could you do besides be a had worker? The fact that you could no longer meet with Gavi early in the morning also burned a hole in your very being. Though it would never be admitted out loud, it was the only time you felt like you were genuinely needed. A throbbing pain radiated around your head, blurring your vision further and making it even more difficult to see. Your sobs were loud and desperate, the only way air was entering your lungs.

A sudden knock on your window startled you, causing you to turn in fear towards your left. Through teas, you stared at the figure of a man knocking on the window, saying something to you, but the sound was drowned out.

"Get away from me! Leave me alone! Help!"

You screamed at the top of your lungs. You were fully panicked, as the door began to open, you screamed even louder, kicking at the door and the person on the other side.

"What the fuck, Doctora! Stop screaming and stop kicking me!"

The familiar voice made you stop your movements. The blur from your eyes was rubbed away, and Gavi stood before you, a trash bag in one hand and his phone in the other, speaking inaudibly. The sight of a person had never brought you this much intense relief. Instantly, you were more calm, breathing slowing enough for you to hear what he was saying.

"-not safe out here at this time. Are you even listening to me?"

The glow of street lamp light made Gavi look like an angel. His brown locks were shrouded in a golden haze, light eyes piercing into you. Jaw hanging slack, you just stared back at him, face still burning from the salt water on your cheeks. You bit your lip, staring up with still watery eyes, body shivering from all the energy exerted. The fatigue was settling deep in your bones, and you were sure that you looked like a frightened child. Gavi instructed you to stay put, running to throw his trash away before returning to you.

"Doctora, you should come inside."

It wasn't a question. Gavi was leaning over you, turning off your car and taking the keys. A hand reached out before you, gently and waiting for you to accept the invitation and follow him inwards. You looked up at him, the look of concern foreign on his face. Gavi had never seemed this seriously worried or scared before. You gathered your strength, placing your delicate hand in Pablo's. He gripped you firmly, tugging gently to escort you out of the car. Once it was locked, he turned to you again. There was a tension between the two of you that no one could pinpoint. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, so loud you were sure Gavi could feel the thrum through the skin of your palm. Maybe you should have stayed at Martin's. But something in you whispered that you were so, so happy to be standing here with Gavi.

Moving on their own accord, you pulled your hand away, and your arms wrapped around Gavi, embracing him tightly. The boy tensed, not expecting the sudden display of affection. He stood there for a moment as you clung to him, arms shaking, breath slowing down as he held you. As you calmed, Gavi's heart rate increased steadily. As your friendship continued to grow, the two of you had become more comfortable with things such as fist bumps. But this was entirely new. He brought his arms up and pulled you into him, biceps enveloping you, and chest providing you comfort. As your head rested against the soft fabric of his sweatshirt, you took a deep breath, smelling in the scent of Gavi, showered and faintly fragranced after practice.

You had scared Pablo half to death. All he wanted to do was sit and relax. He had seen you before you went into Xavi's office, face looking like you had seen a ghost. He had worried about you all practice. Normally you were glowing: smiling at everyone in the early morning as you sipped your coffee and finished the notes. Sometimes you even danced through Camp Nou, playlist keeping yo hyped despite the early hours. But recently, it felt like Pablo was watching you wither away. You smiled less, you came in with darker circles, and you looked like you were consistently on the verge of tears. He wanted to blame Martin, but he knew that working with the team played a big part of it.

After Ferran's complaint, he had run to the assistant coaches, trying to figure out what the repercussions could be. He was frazzled in practice, wondering if he and the boys had done enough to prevent you losing your position. Gavi became more aggressive. He starting losing his footing more, slipping and falling more frequently, and pushing the boundaries with his teammates. So what if he broke Ferran's kneecap? It's not like he would be debilitating a phenomenal contributor to the team. Lewy spoke to him multiple times, telling him to take it easy, because the aggression did nothing but make him look bad. Pedri told him that hurting Ferran would not erase his complaint against you. But it didn't matter. Gavi still pushed.

This was the first time he had seen you since you walked into Xavi's office. You had sent him a text telling him to find other arrangements for getting home for the next couple of days. This led to some embarrassing shots of him leaving Camp Nou in a taxi, and Pedri took pity on him, driving him home the following day. All his check-up texts had gotten curt responses, and he felt an ache in his chest that he didn't understand. Ever since his little self-love session, he had slowly but surely come to the realization that he wanted to be more than just friends with you. He had tried to keep this information to himself. Gavi knew what his friends would say: he was just being horny and 18, falling for the first girl that had given him a little attention. But he knew that wasn't the case.

Gavi had been around girls. Growing up, his sister's friends talked to him like a little pet. They let him hang around, allowing him to get closer to a lot of the prettiest girls in the town. The older he got, the easier it was to get girls. I'm in La Masia, I'm on the Barca B team, I play with Pedri. Now it was easier than ever. Models, actresses, singers, and other pretty girls threw themselves at his feet, in person and through DMs. There were hundreds of women willing to give him attention. But you? Oh. You were someone he wanted to chase. Someone who made him excited to wake up in the morning, someone that made electricity dance across his skin every time you touched him. You were ambitious and confident and determined. He didn't just like you. He respected you. He desired you. He craved you.

It had been no easy thing confessing this to Pedri. Gavi looked at his loosened laces the entire time, avoiding Pedri's smirk. He had known for literal months that Pablo wanted you. It was obvious to anyone who had seen the two of you interact. He told Pablo as much, making the younger boy blush and cross his arms over his chest. After the teasing had died down, the serious talk began.

"You can't do anything until she doesn't have a boyfriend anymore."

Gavi had texted you that night about meeting him for an early morning session, inventing a new slew of muscle discomforts.

[Doctora]: Can't do before work meetings anymore. Xavi's orders. Come in at 8am exactly if you're in pain.

To say he was crushed was an understatement. Over the past two weeks that you had been driving him, he had gotten closer to you. He learned about your favorite things to cook, about your relationship with your parents, and about what high school was like for you. He has learned that you frequently stopped at the drive-thru to get a post-practice hot tea and a muffin. He found out that you had given up drinking for good. Over two weeks he had watched the string connecting the two of you grow brighter. Now it was being snipped before his very eyes. It felt like he was losing you.

"Let me know if our little nurse likes fucking in the front or back seat more, Pablito. So I know whether to pick her up from Martin's in the two-seater or the SUV. He said he'd be willing to share with me when she finally gives it up. He'd probably let you get a slice of that ass as well."

Ferran couldn't react before he was slammed up against the locker. The sound reverberated around the room, alerting the two or three other boys who were also slow to change after training. Gavi's forearm was pressed into Ferran's throat, making the older boy go pink in the face and claw at his arm for air.

"If you say one more nasty thing about her, as God is my witness, I will dislocate both of your hips from their sockets regardless of who is watching. I will kick you in the teeth so fucking hard your grandchildren will need extensive dental work. Now shut the fuck up, get changed, and go home and jerk off to your own Instagram selfies."

Now he was standing under the street lamp beside his house holding you in his arms. The string was stronger and brighter than ever, wrapped around the two of you. Seeing you slam your head against the steering wheel concerned him, and having you kick and scream at him made you think you were at the end of your rope, terrifying him. Now he brought you closer to his heart, clutching your shaking frame, breathing in your shampoo and the relief that you were okay. He didn't know if he was capable of letting you go. He swallowed the large knot forming in his throat.

"Did... did you come here to see me?"

You looked up at Gavi, arms still around him, albeit shaking.

"I..." You weren't sure what to say. "I just left Martin's house. I was feeling overwhelmed and I just ... started driving. Guess it was muscle memory that brought me here."

You watched an unknown emotion fill Gavi's eyes. Was he annoyed that you came to his street? The closeness of your bodies registered in your brain, and you took a step back, looking awkwardly at your feet. No matter how comfortable he made you feel, there was a line you shouldn't cross. Not only were you two coworkers, but you had a boyfriend who you knew would not be happy if he ever found out about this "under the street light" 40's movie embrace.

"I should probably go home. Um, sorry to bother you."

"No wait-" Gavi said, grasping your arm once more. He stopped you in your tracks, keeping a firm hold on you. He couldn't let you leave. Not now. Not while you were like this.

"You're obviously distressed. I don't want you to drive home right now."

You shook your head, but made no effort to remove his hand from you.

"No no, I'm fine. I should really-"

Gavi shook his head viscously.

"No I'm serious. You were having a panic attack in your car. At least... At least come inside and eat something. Maybe have some tea? Anything. I just... want to make sure that you're okay before you leave me."

With wide eyes, you looked up at Gavi after this statement. His cheeks burned, realizing he had slipped up.

"Leave my house. Just come inside."

His hand traveled from your bicep to your hand, holding it and tugging you behind him towards the house. You followed him silently, allowing yourself to be pulled into Gavi's orbit. The dim lighting of the house and the sounds from the TV made you feel more at peace. Despite it being a bachelor pad, you felt like you were walking into a home.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." You said softly as you moved to slip off your shoes, stopping mid way. Gavi turned around, raining an eyebrow at you bent over in contemplation as he kicked off his Nikes. Your eyes widened in awe.

"You take your shoes off inside?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?"

"Martin told me I was weird for taking off my shoes indoors. He said it's not a thing in Spain."

Gavi barked out a dry laugh, walking to his kitchen and switching on the lights.

"So it's a Spanish thing to track mud and dirt into the house? Take off your shoes, Doctora. Make yourself at home."

You smiled to yourself, brushing your hair behind your ear and unlacing your shoes. You watch Gavi pick up a shaker bottle, hopping onto the counter and and taking a sip. It was your turned to be confused.

"A protein shake? At this hour?"

"Yeah. It's my dinner. Want one?"

"Pablo!" The disbelief was evident on your face and in your voice. You had been working with the nutritionists recently to revise the daily calorie intake for all the players. Gavi needed about 4000 a day. There was no way he was drinking all of them in shakes.

"You need to have a proper dinner! No wonder you're always blowing your muscles out. Where is the dietary fiber? Where are the fats? Do you even have food in the fridge?"

He takes another swig of his protein shake, hopping off the counter. You open the fridge, scanning the shelves. He stands behind you, His chest mere inches from your back.

"Yeah, someone drops groceries off every couple of weeks, but I'm a shit cook. But if you want something for dinner, I can try. Wouldn't want you to go hungry."

You turn to face gave, your faces close enough to feel each others' breath. It was ironic that at this time, a thought crossed your mind: Martin, despite bragging about his cooking skills extensively, had never even fried you an egg.

"I'm a pretty good cook. Want to eat something other than protein powder this evening?"

Gavi looked into your eyes, noticing the redness that lingered from crying. He nodded his head slowly, then looked at your forehead. There was a red spot that had formed with a slight bump from where you hit the wheel. He brought one hand up, caressing the spot with his thumb. It sent a shock through your system. Why was Gavi's touch having such an effect on you?

You spent the next half and hour cooking, with Gavi sitting on the counter, making idle conversation. He loved watching the way you moved, the way that your eyes narrowed in concentration. When you were finished, you picked up both the plates and moved in front of the TV. He followed you like a puppy, watching as you sat on the couch with your feet beneath you. You rubbed your arms together, trying to create some sort of warmth. The exhaustion of working and cooking (with a breakdown in the middle) had set in, causing a chill to wash over you. As he moved to take a bite of the arroz con pollo that you had cooked up, he looked over at you, watching you shiver slightly.

Your eyes followed Gavi as he put the plate down, running to his bedroom, re-emerging with a black hoodie.

"Here, put this on. I don't want you freezing in my home."

You took the garment from him and looked at it. The material was soft in your hands, the smell of Gavi making its way to you. You slipped it over your head, feeling warmth instantly, both internally and externally. It wasn't much - just a hoodie. Any decent friend would have given you one in the cold. But it was more than that. It was that Gavi wanted you to be safe and fed and warm. It was that he was always looking over at you, noticing things without you asking. Maybe this was close friendship, something you were lacking at the present moment. But something felt different. None of your other friends made you feel this way. You never felt a longing to see them like you did with Gavi. You never felt a hold in your chest and an emptiness in your life when they weren't around. So what was it about Gavi.

The two of you ate in silence, watching the show that Gavi had playing on the TV. It was an old Spanish telenovela, something from the early 90s, where a girl from the farmlands moves to the city, and she is caught in a love triangle between her childhood friend and the CEO of a major company in the city.

"Is this show not a little... feminine for you?"

Gavi rolled his eyes at your teasing. "It's the only thing on when I'm home. It's so predictable that it doesn't matter if I miss an episode, because I already basically know the whole show plot."

"Oh really mister psychic? What's going to happen in the show then?"

You placed your plate on the coffee table, leaning back onto the couch, pulling Gavi's hoodie tighter around you. He grabbed a blanket from beside him, draping it over the two of you.

"She thinks that she's not good enough for Xavier, the CEO, so she's going to go back to farm boy Matthias and be with him. But she's going to realize that she's not happy with Matthias because he wants her to be this woman that she's not. So she's going to run from the farm back into Xavier's arms and kiss him, telling him that he accepts her for who she really is."

Your jaw dropped slightly, looking at Gavi in awe. You had never seen a teenage boy so invested in a TV romance. He looked over at you, suddenly shy under your gaze.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because... how do you know that's what's going to happen?"

"Besides the fact that this telenovela has been out for like 20 years and it's cliche as fuck? Because it's obvious. Matthias keeps making all these little comments and asking Dorinda to change all these things about herself. A relationship can never survive if they don't like you for you, ya know?"

You muttered out a slight 'mhm' before pulling the blanket higher up and turning back to the TV. Gavi sat back as well, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, you curled up in a ball, him with his arms draped over the back of the couch, distance just big enough between the two of you to be respectful. As you waited for the next episode to begin, Gavi shifted to look at you.

"So... are we going to talk about the breakdown you had in your car? Or we can pretend it never happened. That also works."

You looked at Gavi, who stared at you with genuine concern and sympathy. His features were soft, eyes scanning you with concern.

"I don't want to burden you with my woes, Pablo. I was just having a moment. I'll get over it eventually."

"You could never be a burden, doctora. Now that we're friends, we get to talk to each other about stuff besides my tight hamstrings. What's going on? You've been... different lately. Ever since your meeting with Xavi."

Gavi watched you bite your lip, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. You took a deep breath before recounting what occurred during the meeting. You watched Gavi grow more and more angry, the heat radiating from his body.

"I just..." The tightness in your chest was so overwhelming. You were done holding back everything you had been feeling. You look up at Gavi, eyes wide and desperate and watery.

"I have been told my whole life that I had to work hard and I would get what I wanted. Just study hard in school and do well in university and do your job well and you'll get everything you dreamed of. But it's not true. I worked my ass off in school and university, and still they only wanted me to intern with the women's teams. I kill myself at this job every day, balancing this with my schoolwork to get my license, and do I get any recognition? No. I get mocked and harassed. I get called a nurse. And my boyfriend..."

You trailed off, and Gavi waited for you to continue. He didn't want any of this to weigh on you any longer. With a sigh you kept going.

"My boyfriend is telling me I'm delusional for being upset. On the rare occasions that he lets me complain to him, he tells me it's my fault. My scrubs are too tight, so Ferran has every right to grab my ass."

"Wait, he's been touching you? I'm going to kill him."

Gavi made a move to get up, but you leaned over, crossing your arm across his chest and keeping him seated.

"You don't have to protect me Gavi. I can handle it."

"How? How can you handle it? One word from fucking Ferran almost got you fired! How are you supposed to get him to stop groping you. And more importantly, why is that your job? You have a man in your life who is supposed to protect you and make sure no harm comes to you. But your sorry sack of shit boyfriend is too busy sucking Ferran's microdick to take care of his girl." He said, face red as he leaned back on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest.

"It's okay, Pablo. I can take care of myself." A tear finally rolled down your cheek.

"I know you can, Doctora. I know you could take on the world if you wanted to. But you shouldn't have to. You deserve to be loved and spoiled. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

You couldn't say anything. No one had ever spoken to you the way Pablo did. No one - not your family, not your friends, not your boyfriend - had ever taken the time to remind you that you were worth of love. The warmth in your chest you had felt all night started spreading through your veins, making its way through your whole body. You felt safe. You didn't trust yourself to speak, so you got up from your seat on the couch and walked to Pablo, leaning over and hugging him. This time he reacted much quicker, welcoming the embrace, rubbing your back softly. You separated and sat next to him again, this time much closer. Close enough for him to pull you into his side if he wanted. His left arm erupted in goosebumps as he resisted the urge.

The silence remained comfortable as you two watched the telenovela, four or five inches all that separated Gavi from your touch. As the night dragged on, your eyelids felt heavier, and your blinks got longer as sleep overtook you. You didn't even feel it when you dozed off, your body slumping sideways. But Gavi felt it as you fell onto his shoulder, breathing deeply. He spoke your name quietly, gaging your consciousness. When you didn't respond, he made a move to look at you, but your soft groan made him sit back. You were asleep on his shoulder.

The weight on his shoulder felt like nothing as he watched you sleep. The TV light was illuminating your features, bathing you in a soft ethereal light. Your hair fell in front of your face, and he moved it gently out of your way to make sure you weren't bothered in your sleep. You snuggled deeper into him, and in doing so, resting your head by his neck. Gavi tried to breathe softly, his whole body tense as to not disturb your sleep.

He tried to convince himself all week that you were just hot. You were just good looking and he wanted you physically - nothing more. But he couldn't because when the thought of you, it was rarely in a sexual manner. He was always imagining situations like this: you cooking with him, cuddling with him on the couch while watching TV, taking naps with him. He was imagining the domestic bliss that all his teammates gushed about. He was imagining waking up to you in the morning and kissing the sleep from your eyes. He dreamed of brushing his teeth beside you as you both messed around before bed. He wanted to look by the stands and point to you, letting you and the whole world know that everything, all of it, it was all for you.

An hour later, when he was sure you were asleep, Gavi tried to shift you slightly. His shoulder began to ache, and he wanted you to get a decent night's sleep. He lifted your head gently, but you stirred in your sleep.

"Pablo... are you leaving?" You mutter, eyes still closed.

His heart felt like it could burst. You looked so small and innocent, so helpless, that Gavi wanted to pick you up in his arms and protect you from the entire world. He never wanted to let anything or anyone, not Ferran or Martin or even Xavi, come near you again.

"Of course not, doctora. I'll always be here for you."

You groaned again before laying down, this time draping yourself across Gavi's lap and cuddling into his thigh. Gavi surrendered, understanding that he would be sleeping on the couch with you on his lap, because in all honesty, it was the only place on Earth that he wanted to be. He set an alarm for 5:30am, and then laid back, one hand rubbing your back as he prepared to dream about you.

You woke to the sound of a phone alarm. The warmth all around you was inviting you to stay asleep, but you opened your eyes nonetheless, coming face to face with a pair of Barca shorts. You shot straight up, looking at Gavi, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning."

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water. You had fallen asleep in Gavi's house. In Gavi's clothes. On Gavi's lap.

"I have to go. I'll see you at work."

You grabbed your phone and keys and ran for the door, not even waiting for his response. You drove to your house, going to jump in the shower to reset before work. This had happened before. You had slept next to Martin, coming home the next day and scrubbing your skin off in the shower, wanting to rid yourself of the night before. But as you looked down to strip, you saw Gavi's black hoodie, which you had been too rushed to give back, and you didn't want to take it off. It felt like warmth and safety and something else that you couldn't name. But you removed the garment carefully, folding it on your bed, and treating your skin gently, like a thing to be preserved.

~~~

You wore Gavi's hoodie for the rest of the week. You put it on before you left the house, and left it in your car before walking into work. You put it on once again when you got back to the car. Gavi mocked you for it on the first day, teasing about how you couldn't live without him. You just looked away in embarrassment, unable to admit that, now that your morning sessions were gone, wearing his hoodie on your drives made you feel connected to him in a different way. It secretly made Gavi swell with pride. It scratched the possessive part of his brain, the one that wanted you to just be his. You always made sure to hide it before driving over to Martin's. You had been bickering more recently, and you didn't want to do anything else to set him off, because you knew he would never even attempt to understand that you wearing Gavi's clothes wasn't a romantic gesture.

It was match day at Camp Nou, which usually brought you excitement, but not today. No, today was the fated day that you would have to choose between your team and your boyfriend: It was Barca vs Real Sociedad day. You had been anxious since the previous evening, wondering how it would be for Martin and Gavi to be on the field together after their falling out many weeks ago. The nerves had shaken you so much that your (Gavi's) black player hoodie remained on. You ran around all morning, doing muscle and flexibility tests, and setting up your station on the side of the field. As the players lined up in the tunnel, you walked through, making sure that everyone was taken care of. You approached the front where Gavi stood, but before you could say anything to him, a voice called out to you.

"Baby! What're you doing in the tunnel? Shouldn't you be in a clinic somewhere?"

Despite him trying to put on a cute tone, you couldn't help but be offended by Martin's words. He was essentially calling you a nurse once again, this time in front of two major La Liga teams. The snickers were not lost to you. You turned around and smiled softly at Martin, greeting him. He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you flinched away.

"Martin, not here, carino. I'm at work." You tried to leave, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. His fingers dug into your wrist, causing pain to shoot through your arm. You turned to look at him, unable to tug your arm away.

"Not going to wish me good luck, sexy? Maybe after watching them practice you don't think I need it."

"He who talks shit first, eats shit first." Gavi's voice said behind you. You leaned into Martin, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and wishing him good luck. He pulls on your hoodie, which you had forgotten you were wearing until it's between his fingers.

"What's this? Isn't this for players? Why are you wearing this?" He asked, eyes dark with anger. He looked at the pocket and noticed the '6' embroidered into the fabric.

"Oh, they had a few made for the staff as well. I need to go and set up by the field." You scurried away from Martin, trying to avoid the stares of everyone around you. You needed to focus on doing your job, not on your relationship drama.

Despite your exit, drama was still bubbling in the tunnel. Martin and Ferran stood next to each other, talking rather loudly to Gavi's dismay. They recapped their boring and alcohol-fueled lives, and Gavi tried to tune them out, getting in the headspace for the game, until they mentioned you.

"You hit yet? Come on, hermano. She sleeps next to you all the time. What are you waiting for?"

"I'm trying. I think I'm going to seal it tonight - no matter what I have to do. She doesn't do booze anymore, so it's been harder than usual. If we win tonight, it's going to be the icing on the cake."

Gavi felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face Pedri, who looked at him disapprovingly.

"Whatever you do, don't get a fucking red. We play Madrid soon."

The game began, and it was rough from the first whistle. Sociedad was playing extremely rough, getting 17 fouls in the first half alone. They were not being merciful in the slightest. Martin and Gavi were on each other on the front left wing, slamming into each other at every opportunity. You rushed on the field for a few head collisions, but otherwise, you spent the game on the sidelines. In the 78th minute, the score was 1-0 to Barca, and they were about to take a corner kick. Martin was on Gavi, with Ferran occupying close space in the box.

"Get out of the way Pablito, the big boys are playing." Martin taunted in his ear. Gavi shrugged off the comment, tracking the movements of Frenkie, who was about to take the kick. That was until he felt himself be shoved in the neck. He turned to Martin, who was staring at him smugly, before shoving him back. Hard. Sociedad and Barca players start to crowd around the two, who are up in each other's faces, inches away from blows. The teams are trying to hold their star players back.

"What the fuck is your problem, cabron? Can't score a fucking goal, so now you want to wrestle?"

Martin breaks free from his teammates, grabbing Gavi by the neck. Ferran watches the two, not interfering as the referee ran towards them, blowing his whistle like crazy. You watch from the sideline, biting your nails to the beds.

"I want you to fuck off and stop eye-fucking my girlfriend. She won't touch your baby dick, Pablito."

The ref is the one to pull Martin off Gavi's neck, presenting him with a red card and sending him off.

"I'm never going to hit you on the field Zubimendi. So you better avoid me when we're not on grass, because I'll knock your fucking teeth out."

Gavi turned to Ferran, who was still watching the interaction. "You've got no fucking loyalty, Torres. And it will bite you in the ass one day. Soon."

~~~

Your drive home with Martin was silent. You didn't know what to say to him. You were terrified to utter Gavi's name, because you knew it would open up the topic of the hoodie again, and you weren't ready to be yelled at. At the end of the game, you kissed Martin on the cheek. You looked past him and saw Gavi, celebrating with the rest of the boys with faint bruises on his neck. You wanted to run over and apologize, but you couldn't, because the man you should be caring about was dragging you off the field.

You unpack your things from your car as Martin walks into the house, not bothering to wait for you. He is eager to get in the shower and wash away the humiliating 3-0 loss he just suffered at the hands of his 'enemy' Gavi no less. You entered the house, staring at the cold, eggshell walls with posters of Martin hanging on them, and a chill ran down your spine. There was something hostile and uninviting about the house. You always wanted to run away, like it was haunted by the spirit of something pushing you out. You changed your clothes, sitting in bed and waiting for Martin to join you. Scrolling through Instagram, you liked all the victory posts on your feed, wanting to support your team, even if you were sleeping with the enemy.

[Gavi]: Hey

[Gavi]: I saw u leave w martin ... hope ur ok

[Gavi]: sorry about fighting on the field

You smiled as you opened the messages from Gavi. Despite their fight, he was still putting aside his hatred of the man to make sure you were okay. Before you could answer, the bathroom door opened, causing you to hastily lock your phone and throw it to the bedside table.

[Doctora]: Read - 11:07pm

Martin approached you in just his towel, still slightly damp. He opened the drawer next to you, pulling out a travel shot of Fireball and throwing it back quickly. He then got on the bed, moving to straddle you, trapping you under his body weight.

"Bonita... you know we've been dating for months now and you still haven't asked me to fuck you?" He said, voice low and sultry. You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. You looked up at him through long lashes.

"I have to ask for you to fuck me? I thought you would be the one to ask if you wanted to do it."

"You don't want to baby?"

You were unsure how to reply. You had never looked at Martin and had the carnal urge to strip him down and have him take you, but sex was supposed to be a normal part of relationships. Maybe you had been unfairly denying Martin of essentially his right.

"I'm... too shy to ask for something like that."

Martin grinned from ear to ear. He licked his lips, bending down and capturing yours in a wet kiss. He was rough and fast, not wanting to waste any time. He tore off the blankets that surrounded you, slowly unbuttoning your shirt. This was the farthest the two of you had gone. He allowed his towel to drop, leaning back to let you admire his already hard cock. You looked at it for a moment before remembering that you should be impressed. You widened your eyes and parted your lips, making a comment about how big it was, and you watched him throb. He stripped you out of the rest of your clothes, kissing your skin roughly. You reciprocated, closing your eyes and sucking on his neck. He moved away, grabbing your chin.

"No markings, baby. You know better."

Gavi sat on his couch at home, TV playing in the background as he stared at the dent beside him. Your imprint was there, although faint. He thought back to that night - the closeness he felt to you, both physically and emotionally. He knew he should have kissed you, confessed his feelings, told you to forget Martin ever existed and be happy with a Barca boyfriend. But he couldn't. He couldn't form the words to tell you that you were the very light that brightened his days, and the cool breeze that soothed him to sleep. He couldn't tell you that every moment he wasn't focused on a ball, he was thinking about you. About the way you laughed and spoke and moved. About the curve of your lips he was desperate to trace with the tip of his tongue. About the way your hair felt beneath his fingertips as he played with it while you slept. He couldn't do it. So he stared at your spot on the couch, glancing over at his phone regularly, waiting for the 'Read' to turn into three typing dots that turned into a little gray bubble filled with your words to him. Just for him.

You lay before Martin completely naked, eyes glued shut. You tried to focus on the feeling more than the person. You let our little moans when he kissed your breasts, trying to encourage him as much as possible so that he would go faster and be done quicker. You heard the sound of a wrapper ripping, and he rolled it on while speaking to you.

"Ready baby?" "Yeah, I think so."

He slipped inside you quickly, groaning into your neck about how warm and tight you were. You kept your eyes shut. You had flashbacks to the couch in the basement. The tears started to prick and burn at your eyes, and you let one fall. He licked it off of you, laughing in satisfaction.

"Is this cock too much for you baby? You crying cause I'm too big? Fuck that's so hot." He said, as he continued thrusting in with no pace or rhythm. You brought your legs up around him, pushing him closer to you, hoping to make him bust quick so that you could go to bed. With eyes still shut, you saw someone else. You saw hazel eyes shining in artificial yellow light, and you clenched around your boyfriend.

"Ugh yeah baby just like that."

The eyes were now replaced by lips, soft and pink, separating into the most captivating smile.

"I'm close baby, so close."

You wished Martin was one of those men who was silent in bed. You wanted to shush him, tell him that the sexy lips in your imagination were about to speak, but you just continued rocking your hips to the makeshift rhythm. The lips parted, a tongue poking out to wet them, before they spoke to you.

"Doctora."

You clenched hard around your boyfriend, pressing him deep inside you, and that was it. He let out a high pitched groan as he came into the condom. He collapsed on top of you, and you allowed your eyes to open, another tear falling, which was quickly wiped away by Martin.

"That was great, baby. Totally worth the wait. Never knew it could be so hot watching you cry."

He rolled off of you and went to sleep, but you were wide awake.

[Doctora]: sorry for the late response

[Doctora]: phone died :(

[Doctora]: yeah im fine

[Doctora]: hope martin didnt hurt u too bad... Sweet dreams Pablo

[Gavi]: Same to u doctora <3

You didn't sleep that night. You watched the clock tick on until 5am, getting in your car and driving to your place. You stripped, throwing everything martin had touched in the hamper. If they weren't your work clothes, they would be in a donation bin. You stepping into the shower and began your hour long scrub. As you moved closer to your upper thighs, tears began welling up again. You didn't regret having sex with Martin, because that's what couples do. But you cried anyways. You cried because you had felt light a fleshlight the way he pumped and dumped in 2 minutes. You cried because he couldn't even ask 'Did you cum?' like some sleazy frat boy who rubbed your left lip vigorously for 15 seconds. You cried because you had sex with your committed boyfriend, and the only way to enjoy it was to close your eyes and think of the boy at your job. You scrubbed your skin raw, pinpricks of blood appearing on your upper thighs.

~~~

Over the next two weeks, you had sex with Martin three more times. Every time, it was the same result. He entered you, you teared up, you closed your eyes and pictured Gavi, and Martin came in under 3 minutes. It had made interacting with Gavi awkward to say the least. When driving him home, you did you best to focus only on the road, trying not to look at his hands or his thighs or his God forsaken lips. After the last game you attended, you were determined not to look at him at all while he was in the car, until he discovered that was your last game before the break.

"You're not coming to our game against Sevilla? Why not? It's the last one before the Christmas and international break."

You had to look at him at this point, but you wished you hadn't. He looked so adorable and pouty, eyes wide with longing. Gavi wouldn't get to see you after this if you weren't at the next game, seeing as he would be going directly from Barca training to Spain National team training.

"My last exam conflicts with it. I'll be able to catch the second half on TV, but there's no way for me to actually go."

"So this is it then? Until January?" He asked, voice low and sad-sounding. He didn't want to let you go. He didn't want to spend the next month away from you. He didn't want to think about the fact that you would be in Martin's arms for the entirety of that break.

"Try not to miss me too much, Pablo. I'll be back before you know it. Kick ass on Tuesday."

He leaned over the dash, hugging you tightly to his chest. You closed your eyes, making sure that you racing heart could not be felt by the boy hugging you tight. Gavi hoped that you would not notice how shaky he was. He didn't want you to know how nervous he was to be initiating a hug with you.

"Oh, before I forget, here you go." You said, reaching into the back and handing him his hoodie. Gavi felt his heart break. For a month you had worn his hoodie almost daily. Why would you return it now? Every time he felt he was getting closer to you, something was snapping the string between you and pulling you away. Did you not want to associate with him anymore?

"I feel bad, keeping your hoodie when it was never given to me. So I wanted to return it to its owner."

Gavi looked at you and smiled. You were so fucking cute. He took the hoodie from you, then reached into his bag, pulling out his body spray. He drenched the hoodie, then folded it back up and held it in front of you.

"I am officially giving you this hoodie. I hope it brings you comfort and warmth. And makes you think of me." He ends with a wink, and you giggle. He leaves your car, sparing you once last glance before waving you off. You left Gavi with butterflies in your stomach.

This is how you found yourself sitting at home, in underwear, tube socks, and Gavi's hoodie, watching the Barca match. You got out of your exam 15 minutes early, giving you enough time to get home and change. You loved watching the games on TV - the announcers made it much more entertaining. You weren't sure if you were hyper-focused on him or the camera just loved Gavi today, but he seemed to be the subject of every zoom-in. He looked so much better from this angle: thick arms wrapped in the tight sleeves of his shirt, sweat dripping from his forehead, hair slicked back and showing off his sculpted face. You pulled up his sweater, breathing in the smell deeply, and subconsciously bringing your thighs together.

The longer you watched the match, the more turned on you became. You started scrolling through Instagram during the game, looking at the fan accounts who posted pictures of Gavi. You stopped on one post in particular. It was a looping video, which showed Gavi on his knees on the field. He lifts his shirt to wipe his face, exposing his V-line. You thought that was the end, almost scrolling before you see it. Gavi runs his tongue across the inside of his mouth, and then proceeds to spit on the field. it was not uncommon for players to spit on the grass, but this was different. The fat glob of Gavi's saliva created a trail from his lips.

You watched the video again. And again. And again and again. You couldn't stop. Your hand traveled down your torso, toying with your nipples, until you reached the hem of your panties. As the video started again, you dipped your fingers past the waistband, feeling instantly how slick you were. Your cheeks burned with guilt - Gavi was your friend. He was someone you worked he. He was several years younger than you. And yet, you moved your fingers against your clit watching him spit on the grass. Your eyes fluttered shut, as you remembered the feel of hugging Pablo, the feel of him against your chest. The beat of his heart. The sound of his voice calling out your name. His raspy 'Good morning'. Would he sound like that when he was struggling to remain in control? You moved faster, soft moans leaving your lips as you worked yourself into a frenzy. You were getting closer, hearing Gavi in your head, until..

Incoming Call: Gavi

You wretched your hand away, embarrassed with yourself for getting off to the thought of your friend, while you had a boyfriend nonetheless. You took a deep breath, wiping your face with your clean hand, and picked up the call.

"Hello?"

"Doctora!! did you see the game? Are you home? How was the exam?"

"Uh... what do I answer first?"

"Actually, you can tell me when you see me. You need to come to Camp Nou."

This made you sit up straight. "I need to what?"

"I need some... emergency care. You need to get here as soon as possible."

You arrived to the stadium frantic, in Gavi's hoodie, some sneakers, and some sweats. You burst into Dr. Gonzalez's office, seeing three doctors all crowded around Gavi. When they parted, you gasped. He had a black eye, dried blood in a streak beneath his eye.

"What the fuck did you do?" You asked, putting on gloves so that you could get cleaning.

"I took a header that was, uhm... kind of low."

You started cleaning with an alcohol wipe, eliciting a hiss from Gavi.

"How low? The grass?"

Gavi went silent, and you groaned and rolled your eyes. You turned to look at the other doctors present.

"Did you guys call me in on my day off to clean up some dried blood and apply a bandage?"

Turns out, you were the only person on staff that could make sure he didn't have any orbital or internal bleeding in his skull. You allowed the rest of the medical staff to take off as you ran tests on Gavi and his swollen eye.

"So, doctora, any plans for the break?"

"I'm probably going to spend it with Martin, since he will be free for all of it."

Gavi scoffed at this. "Right, because he didn't get called for the national team. He gets a month long vacation now."

"He plays the same position as you, Gavi. I knew he would never get chosen over you. You're Spain's golden boy."

Gavi crossed his arms over his chest in satisfaction.

"Damn straight."

~~~

You drove Gavi home, blasting some of your favorite music from college through your car's speakers. You wanted to roll the windows down, but Gavi reminded you that December in Barcelona was not the best time for that.

"LISTEN BABY THIS A LAMBOURGHINI NOT A BENZ, I DON'T EVEN GET THE TIME TO FUCK YOU ON THE WEEKEND-"

"Alright I'm going inside my house I can't stand the yelling," Gavi laughs out as he exits your car. You lower the volume and exit the car as well. You walk over to Gavi, giving him a tight hug. Neither of you wanted to let go.

"Good luck, Pablo. You're going to do amazing. When do you go to Switzerland?" You asked, looking at the pavement rather than into his eyes. You were still embarrassed from your earlier activities regarding picturing Gavi's face.

"We leave in three days, so you don't need to start missing me until Friday night. Until then, you know where I live if you start going through Gavi withdrawals." You both laughed lightly, an awkward silence settling between you two. He was the first to move, lifting a hand to wave and he began walking towards the door. You got back in your car, trying to call Martin. He didn't respond, but you had his location. He was at home according to Find my Friends. You decided to go to his place and surprise him, starting the break together with him. Maybe the two of you could go out and celebrate - him the halfway mark of the season, and you the end of exams.

Gavi sighed when he cam back into his house, slumping onto his couch. He looked once again at the spot where you slept. There was that fucking ache again. He felt a gnawing at his soul when you weren't around - something akin to guilt. It's like the universe was asking him 'why'. Why didn't you tell her that her boyfriend is hot garbage and you could be everything that she needed? Why didn't you kiss her the thousand times you had a chance? He felt a pang from his eye - the ibuprofen must be wearing off. He reached into his bag to find the bottle and pop another, when he feels an envelope. He was instantly curious - when did someone have access to his bag to slip this in?

To Pablo, From Dr <3

He ripped open the top, and out came a letter and a printed photo. It was a picture that someone from the media team had taken when you first started working there, right after the summer international break. Gavi was stretched on the table, with you behind him, helping him stretch out. You both wore deep scowls, your distain for each other evident then. The note was short, and read:

To Pablo G,

Happy Holidays and Happy Break! My salary can't buy you a better gift than you can buy yourself, so here is a picture from the beginning days of our dynamic friendship duo. Maybe we should go back to hating each other - we both look really hot when we frown.

Love, your favorite Physio <3

Gavi, the teenager that he still was, hugged the photo and letter to his chest, his smile so wide it hurt his face. You were thinking about him. You thought about him enough to find a gift, get it for him, and slip it into his bag during his eye exam. Fuck, what should he get you?

His train of thought was cut off by screaming and banging on his door.

"Pablo! Let me in! Get the fuck away from me!"

It was your voice. You were screaming at the top of your lungs, your voice hoarse - like you had been sobbing. Gavi leaped off his couch, running to the door and flinging it open. He felt the wait of you fall into his chest, your body wracked with sobs. Your legs weren't strong enough to keep you standing, so he held up your weight. He clutched you tightly, wanting to keep you safe. He looked up, and he saw who it was you were running screaming from: Martin.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey y'all!! Hope you enjoy part 6!! Maybe I shouldn't say this because I made y'all wait for so long, but I don't think this part is as good as the last one. Part 7 gonna be a Banger tho. Anyways, please let me know your comments, thoughts, feedback, and theories in the replies or in my ask box!!! I love reading everything you guys think about this series!! Also, I love when people find little details/ easter eggs in the writing, so do w that info what you will. Next part won't take nearly as long. Have a great night y'all see u soooooon <<<<33333

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x y/n #gavisuntiedboot #gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi fluff #gavi fanfic #pablo gavi slow burn #pablo gavi x reader fluff #pablo gavi x reader smut #fc barcelona

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coffeeghoulie · 2 months

Text

got a feeling inside that i can't domesticate

surprise! secret sixth chapter/epilogue of Eternal Heatstroke! (though you don't have to have read that to read this lol)

3.2k of Swiss and Aeon getting their well-earned rest after the end of the Re-Imperatour, with bonus fire ghoul courting rituals, mild miscommunication, and Aether and Dew giving each other Looks about the new lovebugs.

Title from Bishops Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy

this one goes out to @ghuleh-recs, wishing her a very happy birthday!

Aeon's not quite sure what day it is.

They had come home after months and months on the road, the Re-Imperatour done some time ago. Dew had barreled off of the bus, nearly tackling a waiting Aether to the ground, Sunny had been successfully tackled by the three other ghoulettes, and Mountain and Rain had greeted their packmates, giving them tight hugs before promptly retreating to the forest and the lake respectively.

Swiss and Aeon had stepped off the bus together, fingers still laced together, heading straight for the ghoul dorms through the marble hallways of the Abbey. The soles of their boots echoed through the empty halls, the clergy and siblings gone to celebrate Papa's return and the end of a successful tour.

"I'm a ghoul of my word, bug," Swiss leaned down to whisper in their good ear. "Straight to bed with us. I'm going to make you the best nest you've ever slept in, I swear to Belial."

Aeon laughed, fishing in their jeans pocket for the key Aether gave them on their very first day Up Top six and a half months ago. "That's not a high bar," they cackled, checking him with their shoulder.

"Still," he grinned. "You wanna grab your bedding from your room or do you just want to use mine?"

They pulled out their key, readjusting the strap of their duffle bag on their shoulder with a shrug. "I'll grab mine too." Swiss lit up, grin sun-bright

The two stopped in front of the plain door that leads to the room Aether had showed them to that first night. Aeon took a moment to fumble with the lock, refusing to let go of Swiss's hand. The door swung open, hinges creaky with months of disuse. The room was just as plain as it was before they left, and Aeon itched to rearrange the furniture, make it a little more theirs now that they were confident that this wasn't a temporary thing.

Reluctantly, Aeon let go of Swiss's hand, but instead of going to their bed, they felt Swiss's gaze on their back as they ducked under their desk, scooping up all of their sheets and blankets and pillows. "Baby," the multighoul said, and Aeon straightened, barely able to see over the pile of bedding in their arms. His tone was devastating, soft and almost sad.

"Yeah?"

"Were you sleeping under your desk?"

Aeon shifted the pile of fabric and took a step back as they took in Swiss's expression. His eyes went soft, but a deep frown lined his face. They cocked their head. "Yeah?"

"Oh, baby," he said again with that same sad tone. "Sweetheart."

"What?" Aeon said, kicking their door shut as they came back to him.

Swiss shook his head, taking a deep breath. "You need help locking up? Or help carrying that?"

"I got it, thanks," they said, shuffling their bedding into one arm as they fit the key in the lock again. They couldn't take Swiss's hand again, but they stood as close as they could to make up for it as they headed down the hall to his room.

Swiss had a much easier time getting his door unlocked, holding it open for Aeon as he ushered them inside. "Just dump those on my bed, alright, baby?"

Aeon nodded, setting the sheets down on his neatly made bed. Without the pile of fabric blocking their view, Aeon took a look at Swiss's room as the multghoul flicked on a string of soft lights, dropping his duffle bag on his desk chair.

It's much more lived in that Aeon's, which made sense, Aeon supposed. He'd been Up Top for far longer than they had. There were shelves of books and records that lined his walls, a guitar not unlike the one he played on tour mounted above his desk. There was a hanging plant near the window, curtains open and letting in the light, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air.

Swiss sighed as he kicked off his boots. "Finally. Home at fucking last."

Aeon carefully followed suit, taking off their own boots and tucking their duffle bag in the corner.

The multighoul opened his dresser, rummaging through it until he hummed victoriously, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants and a pair of shirts. "I'm gonna change and get you a nest made," he said. "If you want to shower, feel free."

Aeon nodded, eyes suddenly incredibly heavy. They wandered over to the wingback chair by the window, curling up against the cushion as Swiss handed them one of the shirts and pairs of pants. They thought about showering, blinking slowly as they felt the soft, worn fabric in their hands. Aeon shook their head, standing and changing into the offered clothes. They smelled like him.

Swiss's lips quirked up in a smile as he quickly changed, turning to arrange his and Aeon's bedding into, as promised, the best nest. He straightened, a satisfied smile on his face. "You wanna shut the curtains for me, baby?" he asked.

They nodded, pulling the black out curtains shut, casting the room in darkness with the exception of the string lights above Swiss's double bed. He settled into the nest, patting the space next to him. "As promised, buggy," he said, teeth glinting as he grinned in the low light.

Aeon returned his grin, crawling into Swiss's nest, plastering themself to his side between him and the wall. The nest was softer than anything Aeon had ever felt before, sinking into a carefully arranged pile of sheets and blankets and pillows. Swiss curled his hands around their biceps, pulling them flush against him.

They let out a little "oof" when their chests collided, both of them staring in silence for a moment before they burst into laughter.

"So," Swiss crooned, nosing at their cheek as they laughed. "Is this the best nest you've ever had or what?"

Aeon's nose crinkled up, cheeks dimpling with their laughter. "Oh yeah," they laughed. "'S really soft." They noticed their words beginning to slur, eyes growing heavy.

"And there's the crash," Swiss said, yawning. He carded his fingers through their hair, Aeon keening at the touch. "Sleep as long as you need."

It's warm, and soft, and now that they'd finally stopped moving, Aeon realized that Swiss was right, drifting off to sleep.

They don't leave the nest for hours. Or it could be days. With the curtains drawn, Aeon's not sure. Sometimes they wake, still held fast against Swiss's form. Their hands settle on the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his locs subconsciously. Sometimes Swiss wakes, and even in their sleep, Aeon can feel his blunt, glamoured fingertips carding through their hair, tracing patterns against their spine.

And sometimes they wake together, only getting up to use the bathroom, to raid the ghoul kitchen for snacks and water, dried fruit and nuts and the single serving bags of Dew's favorite spicy chips, before retreating back to the nest. They'll pay for that particular transgression later, but Aether and Dew's door hasn't opened once since the band returned to the Abbey, so they're not particularly worried.

For now, Aeon lets Swiss keep his word, keeping them in his bed, safe in his nest, and Aeon drinks it up. The smell of him is much stronger here, and Aeon spends long moments with their face buried in his chest, his shirt, his bedding.

"Can you even breathe like that, bug?" Swiss laughs, hand caressing the back of their neck. Aeon doesn't raise their head to answer, mumbling into his chest. Swiss hums, ducking down to press a kiss between their horns, and Aeon chuffs happily, if not half-asleep.

"There we go, sweetheart," he whispers, shifting until he's on his back, Aeon curled up on his broad chest. They chuff again, already slipping back into sleep, their body making up for all of the sleepless nights they spent on the road.

The creak of the door handle startles them awake next. Aeon pushes themself upright, lips peeled back in a terrified snarl as the door pushes open slowly. The sudden movement and noise wakes Swiss, as light from the hallway pools into his room, lighting the dim space.

It barely takes half of a second for Swiss to register the open door, the budding tinge of terror on Aeon's scent, before he's shoving them off of him, sitting up between them and the door. He reaches behind him, fingers curling in the fabric of Aeon's borrowed shirt. A deep growl bubbles up in his chest, and Aeon's never heard him make a sound quite like that.

But Aeon sees the glowing pairs of purple and copper eyes silhouetted by the hall light, and Dew clears his throat as he and Aether look in. "Quit fucking growling, asshole, s'just us," he says, scoffing, even though Aeon can hear the worry seeping through his tone.

Swiss has the wherewithal to at least look sheepish, padding his tail against the mattress. "Sorry," he says, but the tone of his voice says he isn't.

"We just wanted to say hello," Aether says, smiling easily like one of his packmates hadn't just been growling at them. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of either of you in the last three days. Got a glimpse when you came off of the bus, but to be fair, we ran off pretty quick." He chuckles, looking at Dew with a softness in his eyes, an arm around his waist.

Aeon whistles under their breath. They'd been in Swiss's nest for three days.

"We've been out," Swiss says, and Aeon feels how tense he is still, his back against their chest. It's just their packmates, one of whom they've only had a few glimpses of in the last several months. They don't know why he's so worked up. "We went to the kitchen."

"Yeah, to steal my chips," Dew scoffs, but he's laughing as he toes at an abandoned foil package that didn't quite make it to the trash can, but neither of them had been assed to get up and actually throw away.

"Invite yourselves in, why don't you?" Swiss laughs, but he's still tense. Aeon sits up straighter behind him, hooking their chin over his shoulder.

"Hi, Aeth," Aeon says, voice heavy with sleep and, apparently, three whole days' worth of disuse. "Missed you."

Aether grins, opening the curtains, much to Swiss and Aeon's dismay. They both hiss, squinting in the bright afternoon light. "Missed you too, pup. You too, Swiss."

Dew stares as the room brightens, and Aeon watches his mouth fall open, eyes brightening with a disbelief and a delight. "Swiss," the fire ghoul says slowly. "Satanas, you didn't-" He gestures loosely at the nest, where Aeon's light grey sheets mix with the dark burgundy of Swiss's own bedding.

Swiss tenses further, tail wrapping around his own thigh, spade thudding nervously against the meat of it. "Spitfire."

"Aeth, look at his bed," Dew says, and Swiss covers his face with his hands, groaning. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

Aether turns from opening the window, bringing in a waft of fresh autumn air, and Aeon watches his clever eyes dart back and forth between the nest, Swiss, Dew, over to Aeon, and back again. A grin slowly grows on the older quint's face, baring his gold fang.

"Belial, Swiss," Dew throws his head back, crowing with laughter. "You made them a hearth, didn't know it was that serious!"

"Shut up," Swiss says, muffled into his hands.

Dew ignores him, still laughing. "Waited all of a week to get them into your bed, huh?" He crows. Aether's still grinning at Aeon. "We walked in on a fucking hearth. No wonder you were growling like you were feral, you spent the last three days fucking in a hearth-"

Swiss's head snaps up, growling again. He almost clips the back of his skull against Aeon's horn. "Shut the fuck up, Dewdrop," he snaps, voice rumbling dangerously around the edges of the ghoulish words.

All three of the other ghouls freeze, Aeon squeaking softly under their breath. Swiss hears it, their mouth practically against his ear, and sighs, shoulders slumping as he presses his cheek against their temple. "I'm sorry. Nothing like that happened. We've just been sleeping. Please just drop it."

Dew holds his hands up, palms facing the nest. "Didn't mean to insinuate," he says, still leaning against the doorframe, grinning. "Didn't know you were the hearth type, Swiss."

Swiss grunts, staring at Dew with grit teeth.

"Well, darling," Aether butts in, a similar smug look on his face. "You didn't seem the type either."

"Oh, shut up," Dew rolls his eyes. "It worked on you."

Aeon's eyes dart from ghoul to ghoul, brow furrowed. "Um," they breathe, not exactly liking the way all three of the older ghouls turn to face them. "I don't wanna interrupt, but what do you mean? What's a hearth?"

"Oh, no," Aether breathes. Swiss buries his face in his hands.

"Oh, Lord Below, of course you didn't tell them," Dew laughs. "I'm gonna let Swiss explain this one to you, voidling, seeing as you're in one." The fire ghoul jabs a thumb towards his mate. "This guy didn't know what a hearth was the first time I made him one either."

"Of course I didn't know," Aether argues. "I wasn't raised with fire pack customs."

"Exactly," Dew stresses, leveling a look at Aether. "Neither were they."

Swiss hasn't moved, breathing so shallow that Aeon can't feel it from where they're pressed up against his back. They chirrup, trying to be comforting, but still questioning. Swiss groans, tilts his head back until their cheeks are pressed together. "I'll tell you, bug, but will the two of you leave us alone?"

Dew nods, suddenly incredibly solemn, hand over his chest. "Of course. Aeth?"

Aether nods, stepping closer to the bed to run a hand over Swiss's locs, finger trailing along the ridge of his horn. "I'm glad you're home, spark."

Swiss hums, leaning into Aether's touch for just a moment, flashing him with the brightness of his smile for a second. "Glad to be home too, big guy."

He grins, turning to his fellow quintessence ghoul, running blunt fingers through their hair. "Congratulations on finishing your first tour, pup."

Aeon smiles, not as bright as they would have, the uneasy tension sour on the air, but they press into the touch like a pleased cat. "Thanks, Aeth."

The pair of them step out, Dew flashing Swiss a mischievous grin before shutting the door behind them.

Swiss sighs again, running a hand through his locs, eyes squeezed shut. He shifts until he's sitting straight and cross legged, and Aeon props themself up to sit next to him, their thighs pressed together. "Did Caldera, did she ever make nests? Specifically, did she ever make one for Oasis?"

Aeon cocks their head, curiosity washing over and dampening the sting of their names on his lips. "No," they tell him. "We were moving constantly, didn't have somewhere secure for a nest like that. He'd give her stones all the time, though. He said it was a water ghoul thing."

Swiss's ears pin back to his skull and he tenses again, fingers flexing, hands in his lap. "Shit."

Aeon darts out, grabs one of his hands, seeking contact. He melts, eagerly taking theirs. His thumb traces over the back of their hand, and his eyes track the movement. "Can you tell me what Dew meant?" Aeon breathes. "About it being a fire thing?"

He nods and squeezes their hand.

"We- No," Swiss winces. He starts again. "Fire ghouls come from the coldest circles of the Pits. They're the only ghouls that can survive there, because the fire in them keeps them alive." He rests his other hand over his heart. "But sometimes, in the longest, darkest nights, one fire wouldn't be enough. You could go to sleep fine, and your flame would freeze and go out by morning. So, most fire ghouls tended to sleep together with partners or big family piles."

Aeon listens intently, resting their head on his shoulder. "You said that was something you missed from your birth pack, right?"

Swiss snorts, turning to nose at the crown of their head. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes shut as their scent hits him. "I did say that. My family was from the City, so we weren't exactly worrying about freezing to death, it was more a comfort thing. But this isn't quite like that."

They wait for Swiss to continue. "What's it like, then?" they ask, yawning.

"A hearth is-" He nuzzles into their hair again, hot breath blowing the strands as he hums. "If you were single, and looking for a partner, you'd offer to build your potential partner a hearth, a nest of your own bedding, to prove you could provide and protect each other's flames. And if they offered their own bedding in return, you had been accepted, and they were interested too. I know I didn't ask, and I asked you for your bedding instead of you offering, but that's what Dew saw. He made a hearth for Aether before he asked him to be his mate."

Aeon cocks their head, sleepily blinking up at him. "It's a mates thing?"

"Yeah," Swiss shuts his eyes and heaves a breath. "It's like a courting nest. I'm sorry, bug. Haven't thought of myself as fire for so long, I didn't realize what I was doing, didn't ask if it was okay. Didn't put a name to what I was doing."

They straighten, shift to look at him dead on. Their hands come up to his face, smoothing over the three day's worth of unshaved stubble. It scratches their palms just right, and Aeon watches the little furrow in his brow smooth out.

"You don't have to apologize," they say, entranced by the shift in the gold of his eyes. "Did you mean it?"

He hums curiously, the little furrow back on his brow. "Did I mean it?"

"Nobody's ever been interested in me like that," they admit in a little voice. Swiss's hands curl around their own, just touching. "Are you? Do you mean it?"

Swiss thinks, and Aeon feels a pit growing in their stomach the longer he doesn't answer.

"Aeon," he says, smoothing his thumbs over the back of their hands. They look up, catching his eye. "Of course I mean it. I love you, bug."

"Then I accept," Aeon says, as easy as breathing. "I want that. I love you too."

He grins, bright and golden, just as warm as the nest they've spent the last half a week in, and Aeon grabs his hands tighter, nose crinkling up in laughter.

"I'm glad we got you, Aeon," Swiss says, smile softening. He kisses their cheek, warm and flushed deep violet.

"I'm glad it was me too," they whisper, leaning forward to shove their face in Swiss's throat.

He embraces them, rubbing up and down their spine, and Swiss's heart jumps when he realizes he can't feel the knobs of their spine. "I hate to say it, lovebug, but we should probably go have something real to eat, see the others."

Aeon whines, but their stomach chooses that moment to growl, and both ghouls burst into laughter at the timing. They stand, begrudgingly leaving the warmth of their hearth to rejoin the rest of their pack.

#happy birthday liss!! <3 #will i ever write anything that isn't sickly sweet #the world may never know #dot's writing #eternal heatstroke #swiss ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss/aeon #phantom ghoul #swiss/phantom #< for tagging purposes

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auras-moonstone · 10 months

Text

mad woman — ethan landry (part five)

words: 1,769

pairing: ethan landry x gf!fem!reader

based on: mad woman by taylor swift

author’s note: only one more part left ! and the epilogue (if i decide to give y/n and ethan a happy ending).

previous part ; next part

Y/N AND ETHAN WOKE UP AT THE SOUND OF THEIR PHONES RINGING. The girl groaned in annoyance as she reached for the device laying on the drawer. Ethan mumbled something under his breath before grabbing Y/N by the waist to push her against his bare chest again.

The girl laughed kissing his cheek “Eth, it might be important” she whispered. He sighed, letting her go. She took her phone and read the texts that were sent to the group as Ethan pressed short kisses on her neck.

mindy

y/n, ethan we have a plan.

meet us at the park in an hour

tara

hello????

everything okay???

chad

answer us!!!

mindy

fuck he killed her

i told you not to go with him y/n/n

wtf mindy i’m okay

why would you text that if you thought i was dead??

mindy

idk maybe you are seeing me typing

maybe you are stuck in this world trying to get revenge

you want to haunt your boyfriend for killing you!

please stop watching paranormal movies minds

we are okay. we’ll meet you there in thirty minutes

chad

*20

we texted you 40 minutes ago, mindy told you to meet us in an hour

yeah we are not going to make it in twenty

we need to shower

sam

but you went to his dorm specifically to shower

why didn’t you do that already?

i did. but i need to shower again :)

mindy

i’m throwing up rn

tara

she literally gagged

chad

ethan my man!! so proud of you buddy!

he’s still sleeping i tired him out

mindy

DONT PUT MENTAL IMAGES IN MY MIND THAT IS DISGUSTING

lmao i’m just messing with you, minds

mindy

thank god.

because virgins survive, so you two might have a chance

oh i was kidding about him still being asleep

the rest was all true :)

mindy

just stop taking and meet us there🤮

“Why didn’t you get rid of Mindy instead of Anika?” Y/N groaned as they made their way to the shower. “I actually really liked Anika. And my patience with Mindy is running out. I swear next time she says something mean to you I-“

He cut her off with a kiss “God, I love it when you get protective” he pressed against the wall of the shower.

“The shower is for showering, babe” she pulled away.

“Can’t help it” he said kissing her neck and shoulders. Y/N smirked as she turned on the cold water, Ethan quickly stepped back.

“Y/N! What was that for?” he glared at her.

“You are in desperate need of a cold shower” she laughed “Come on, we need to hurry. Your dad said it was important for us to be there”.

Ethan sighed in defeat “Fine”.

“I promise that once this is over, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me” she gave him a peck.

“Anything?” he smirked.

“Anything” she confirmed.

QUINN ATTACKED GALE AT HER HOUSE, ALMOST BEING SUCCESSFUL IN KILLING HER. Right now, the whole group, minus officer Bailey and Kirby, were at the hospital lounge, waiting for any news on the reporter’s health.

Y/N and Ethan were internally fuming. How many fucking lives did Gale Weathers have? It was ridiculous. Though, they really enjoyed seeing Sam’s guiltiness eat her alive.

"What do we do know?" Y/N asked, sitting on Ethan’s lap. He tightened his grip on the girl's frame as she drew invisible circles on his chest.

"Maybe he gets to win this time" Sam said, her voice was a bit shaky. They all looked at her as if she was crazy. "He wants to punish me. Me. So maybe I'll let him. I'll just give myself up. If this is what I have to do, to keep you safe, it's worth it".

"First of all, you are fucking insane if you think we'll let you do that" Y/N told her, no hesitation in her voice.

Tara stood up. "Y/N/N is right. You always protect us, now it's time we protect you. We are a team, remember?".

"We are family" Y/N corrected, standing up and walking towards Sam.

"You can say it, Chad" Mindy said, standing up too.

Chad got into his feet and with a excited smile he said. "Let's go! Core five!".

"Core what?" asked Danny.

"It's an us think" Chad explained briefly.

"He's gonna keep coming after us" Sam warned them.

"Isn't there somewhere safe we can hold up in?" Ethan asked.

"He's just going to keep finding us" Tara told him, making him sigh. "We could use that, though”.

THE FINAL ACT WAS ABOUT TO BEGIN. The group planned on luring Ghostface into a secure location and trap him inside. The final reveal was getting close, and Y/N’s heart beat with excitement. She couldn’t wait to see the life draining from Tara’s eyes. And then, she would continue her life with the love of her life.

"Is this even a good plan?" Ethan asked, his hand gripping Y/N’s tightly, as they walked down the stairs to take the train.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to" Tara replied.

"So we just peel off so the killer takes us off one by one? No, thank you" the curly-haired boy said, making his girlfriend look at him with her eyebrows raised. "And I don't want to leave Y/N alone, of course".

The girl laughed. "You really don't have to come, you know? We are not going to blame you for not going".

Ethan sighed. "No. Like I said, I won’t leave you alone".

“Yeah, very romantic, lovebirds. Can you move now? We are going to miss the train” Mindy said annoyed from behind them.

They walked through the current of people, pushing and shoving to try to get into the train. Just as they were about to enter it, the doors closed right in front of their faces.

"The next one should be here any minute. We won't be that far behind" said Y/N to Ethan and Mindy.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go away" Mindy said to the boy.

"What do you mean?" the girl asked her confused.

"I don't trust your boyfriend".

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Mindy, not right now. Leave your stupid accusations aside, we need to stick together".

"Fine, you can stay with him. I'll wait a couple of feet away" she replied stubbornly.

"Mindy, come on" she said tiredly, but her friend didn't listen. She turned to face the tall boy. "Can I be the one who gets rid of her?".

Ethan tried not to laugh “I’m sorry but we have to take advantage of her stubbornness. Text Quinn, it’ll be less suspicious if you do it”.

“How disappointing” she scoffed, pulling her phone out.

hey quinn. we are about to take the train. we missed the first, so we are taking the next one.

mindy distanced herself from us cause she doesn’t trust your brother.

it’ll be a great opportunity to get rid of her

(i’m so jealous you get to do it btw).

quinn

roger that:)

aw i’m sorry, i promise i’ll be extra brutal for you :)

stop flirting with me!

quinn

no can do ;)

“Hey, what the fuck?” Ethan whispered, reading the conversation over her shoulder.

Y/N laughed “Don’t worry, pretty boy. My heart is only yours”.

“That’s right. You are mine” he said, gripping her hips.

“You are so hot when you get territorial” she said pressing a kiss on his jaw.

When they boarded the train, Mindy walked towards the end of the wagon, away from them but at a reasonable distance so she could keep an eye on Ethan.

“This is perfect” Y/N whispered, looking around. The train was crowded with people dressed as famous killers—Jason, Michael Myers, Ghostface, Pennywise.

"What’s your favorite scary movie, darling?” the boy joked. He was towering over her, and her back was pressed against a metal tube.

Y/N rolled her eyes "Shut up, idiot. I was never a fan of those types of movies”

“Maybe that could be one of our dates, watching scary movies”

“I’ll do anything as long as it’s with you” she smiled sweetly. He got closer to her, now they were chest against chest, and kissed her cheeks multiple times.

“Gross” said a familiar voice from next to them. Just after that, the light went out.

“That’s your cue, Quinnie” Y/N told her.

“Don’t call me that” she grumbled before starting to get closer and closer to Mindy.

On the next stop, when a big number of people stepped out of the train, the couple turned around to see Mindy sitting on the floor, hands pressed to her stomach and blood staining her shirt.

"No, fuck!" Y/N yelled faking concern as she ran towards her. She wanted to smile so badly at the sight of the girl in pain "You've got to be kidding me! I'm so sorry, Minds".

"Somebody help!" Ethan screamed, but no one moved one finger to do something. "Shit. We've got to get her out of here".

Y/N nodded. "Breath deep" she told her before pulling her to her feet. The girl let out a groan of pain as the couple lead her out of the train. "Thanks for nothing, assholes!".

"Somebody call 911!" Ethan yelled as they put the wounded girl on the floor of the station. "Are you okay?".

"Yeah, I'm so good" she said through her teeth.

"You're going to be okay" Ethan told her.

"Goddam it! I got it wrong again!" she cried. The paramedics arrived and started to check on the wounded girl.

"Is she going to be okay?" Y/N asked them.

"Yes, your friend will be fine, don't worry. We are going to give her painkillers, while we drive her to the hospital" they informed her.

“Minds, they need all the help they can get. I hate to leave you alone, but…” Y/N started.

Mindy nodded in understanding “You have to help them, it’s okay. Go”.

“If you need anything, call me okay?” Y/N told her.

“I’ll be fine, really. Just… be careful with him, okay? I know he’s your boyfriend and you like him, but never trust the love interest”.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay” she assured her before the paramedics took her away. “Heard that? I should be careful with you” she turned around with a smirk to face her boyfriend. “Are you gonna hurt me?”.

Ethan laughed “Depends, are you into those types of kink?”.

“You really should’ve taken that cold shower” Y/N said rolling her eyes, but smiling nonetheless. “Now, let’s go. It’s time for the big finale, baby!”.

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fanfic-lover-girl · 3 months

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The HP Epilogue: JKR's trashfire ending to a trash book series

I was reading snippets from the epilogue for the first time and everything about the epilogue is just frustrating. And I want to share things I found intolerable about it to let off steam. These are MY opinions so if you feel differently, I am happy for you. But here is a summary of my gripes.

The names of the Hinny Harry's kids

James Sirius. Albus Severus. Lily Luna. I can empathize with wanting to honour people you love by naming your kids after them...but this is just overkill. Not one of Harry's kids has an original name. Not one! And I said Harry's kids because it seems like Ginny had absolutely no input in the names. If I am being generous, maybe the Luna name was hers, but given the naming pattern of the kids, I am sure that Luna references Lupin and not Luna Lovegood. Sometimes I feel as if Harry has a domineering vibe in Hinny and the kids' names are not doing any favours to combat that. Not surprising as everything about the Hinny romance was dictated by Harry's wants. Who cares about Ginny?

Muggleborne discrimination is bad but pureblood discrimination is A-ok

‘You’re right, sorry,’ said Ron, but unable to help himself, he added, ‘don’t get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood.’

I could not believe my eyes when I read this. It's like Ron forgot that HIS family is pureblood! It's the same vibe as a black parent telling their black or mixed kid not to marry another black person! Luna is pureblood! Neville is pureblood! Do the Weasleys have some kind of self-hatred?? Another point to purebloods slowly dying out but who cares? As far as JKR is concerned, the wizards should be aiming to all be mutts with mixed blood :)

BTW the Scorpius/Rose pairing fills me with revulsion. I like Albus and Scorp as friends though! But not so much as lovers.

Marriage is the only way to be truly part of a family

‘Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!’ whispered Lily ecstatically. ‘Teddy would really be part of the family then!’

Got some heavy Hinny vibes from this line of dialogue. Harry did not become a true Weasley until he got with Ginny after all :)

I know Lily is a kid and she means no malice, but I truly felt disgust towards this line. It just bothers me, especially in the context of Hinny and how Ginny functions as a way for Harry to become a Weasley member. Teddy is Harry's godson, he should be like a big brother to Lily. How does becoming a cousin-in-law make him more of a family member compared to being her surrogate big bro??

Do Hogwarts alumni swear an oath of secrecy?

‘And you don’t want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts,’ Harry put in.

He had never told any of his children that before, and he saw the wonder in Albus’s face when he said it.

So James Sirius is telling Albus Severus exaggerated tales about Hogwarts similar to what the Weasley twins did to Ron. But how is this possible? Do the parents not talk about Hogwarts to their kids? If my kid was going to my alma mater, I would tell him/her all about the school when I went there. I don't understand why it seems like parents don't talk about Hogwarts. At least Draco's parents seem to talk to him about the school at least.

Muggle abuse is still funny Ha. Ha.

‘As a matter of fact, I did Confund him,’ Ron whispered to Harry, as together they lifted Albus’s trunk and owl on to the train. ‘I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let’s face it, I can use a Supersensory Charm for that.’

Remember that Ron is an Auror! A wizarding cop! But nah muggles are still lesser than wizards so even a guy like Ron who's supposed to be a good hero character feels no shame in messing with their autonomy. Ron is literally so disgusting in the epilogue. Never thought I would end HP finding Ron the least tolerable of the trio when Ron is usually my fav of the 3. Not that the bar is very high for the other two.

JKR really does not like Draco

His hair was receding somewhat, which emphasised the pointed chin.

Of course, JKR can't end the series without throwing more shade at Draco. He's rocking the middle-aged man look, only has one kid and has a love interest that we know squat about. And then in CC, Draco's wife dies! Sigh, I really hate Drastoria...

All is not well

There is still house discrimination. Magical creatures likely still have fewer rights. Aurors like Ron and everyday wizards abuse their powers against muggles. Purebloods are dying out. Wizards like Albus act like they did not grow up in a magical world, aka wizards still have low brain cell counts. But sure, Harry's scar is fine so ALL IS WELL!

I can't believe there are people out here calling JKR a good writer! I see the vast potential of the book series and I feel so sad sometimes. I am so happy that HP never existed in my childhood.

#harry potter series #anti harry potter #harry potter epilogue #hp 19 years later #weasley family #anti hinny #ron weasley critical #anti jkr #draco malfoy #harry james potter #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #lily luna potter #anti scorose #anti drastoria #muggle discrimination #pureblood discrimination #draco deserved a better author

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luvrhyune · 1 year

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-; ✧˖*°࿐ HOT GIRL BUMMER . BANG CHAN .

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ PAIRING ; bang chan x fem! reader.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ SUMMARY ; summer was the time for parties, getting wasted and repeating for the entire week. that was your plan, until your ex boyfriend happened to show up at every club you went to !!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ GENRE ; SMAU, exes to lovers !!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ WARNINGS ; swearing, fluff, angst, “kys” comments, mentions of alcohol & “getting wasted”, y/n has a face claim, uni au, (kind of - nothing is officially mentioned), humour (i hope), written elements, non idol au, breakups, misunderstandings, non idol au but 3racha still make music & stuff.

— posting status : discontinued.

— started : 30/01/23 (DD/MM/YY)

— ended : tba

— taglist : open !! send an ask to join !!

— notices:

the plot & any oc's used belong to me!!

do not steal or translate my work!!

DO NOT SPAM LIKE EACH CHAPTER. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

this is a spin off of my other series, ‘cuffin’ szn’! it isn’t necessary to read that before reading this, but the characters are the same and there may be a few references to that series!!

main masterlist. series masterlist.

READ BEFORE THIS :

i. cuffin’ szn

PROFILES :

drunkos !! dysfunctional fam !!

CHAPTERS :

i — 20 minutes. 180 degrees.

ii — sluts

iii — wanna go home (written)

iv — be fucking for real

v — is she hot?

vi — blabber mouth

vii — who the fuck

viii — party hardy

ix — oh shit (written)

x — sorry, i love you (written)

xi — fuck off

xii — talk later [name subject to change]

xiii — dancer in the dark (written) [name subject to change]

xiv — happy (written) [name subject to change]

epilogue

#🤍🌊. luvrhyune #👿🗯️. hot girl bummer #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x yn #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan angst #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fluff #bang chan #skz chan #skz social media au #bang chan smau #stray kids social media au

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theetherealbloom · 14 days

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BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM - CH.4

Chapter 4: Scandal Does Funny Things To Pride, But Brings Lovers Closer

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking Around, FLUFF, LOTS OF SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Oral Male Receiving, Penetration Kissing, Barely any plot, NOT A SLOW BURN AT ALL, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content, Size Kink, Reader is “smaller” than Joel but no further descriptions, Breeding Kink, PWP (wrap it up), Body worship, declaring their love for each other,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I wrote this in two days and I’m lowkey unsure if this all makes sense LMAO. So here we are, at the final chapter… tf am I gonna do now… (*stares at all the unfinished series rewrites*) well… damn. See you at the epilogue.

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Joel doesn't think you both slept a wink that first week, the two of you creeping around in the dead of night and again in the pre-dawn light. You were over at Joel's place every morning, right after your dad left for work. He still thinks you're in your own bed every night, only helping Joel out part-time during the day.

But in between when he leaves for work and when he gets home for dinner, you're right where you belong – by Joel's side. Or, in most cases, bouncing your fine ass on the end of his thick, throbbing cock until you're screaming his name into a pillow.

It's not as if you haven't tried to tell your dad the truth. Joel has, too. But it cuts him up to keep anything from his oldest friend, especially when he sees your dad on such a high. Telling him the reality of the situation would surely ruin him.

Even though Joel knows it's the right thing to do, the thought of shattering your father's newfound joy and confidence is almost too much to bear. He's seen the way your dad's face lights up when he talks about the success of his business, all thanks to Joel's intervention.

Your dad is even making noise about setting up a workshop on the East Coast, making Joel's original idea sound like his own. But if it makes him happy, Joel's happy. Because of all that, you and Joel made a pact – if your dad asks either of you directly if you're anything more than just friends, you'll tell him the truth. But he's been so busy that neither of you have actually seen much of him at all.

As uneasy as it makes Joel, keeping the both of you a secret just a little longer seems like the easiest way to avoid making waves. Or so Joel thought. It's been two weeks to the day, and Joel doesn't think you or him have ever been happier your whole lives, except for the sneaking around past your dad bit.

But your dad is no dummy. And Joel can see now that he should have just come out with it, long before helping him get his business into first gear. You both guess that you two got lazy.

It happens right after another one of your father's dinners on a Friday night. He's insisted Joel, Tommy, and Sarah come over, and he'll cook for all of you. But come eleven o'clock, when Tommy and Sarah go home, and then midnight, you and Joel are giving each other guarded glances. And your dad takes on the air of a man who has something to say.

"I should probably head to bed," you say, about to excuse yourself, but your dad asks you to sit.

"You don't have to pretend anymore, honey," your dad says calmly, shaking his head and laughing to himself. But it's not a happy laugh – it's a wounded, ironic kind of grimace he wears as his eyes settle on Joel's.

"And you, Joel? I suppose you're beat after spending the day with my daughter 'helping you out' around the house, huh?" your dad says cuttingly, but he regains his composure quickly.

"I guess I have somethin' to tell you," Joel croaks, trying to swallow but feeling his mouth dry as dirt.

"I guess we both have something to tell you," you add, making Joel jump when your hand slips into his, and you rest them both on the table.

Your dad takes in a sharp breath, steadying himself, and Joel has to say, he's being a fucking man about it. "So go ahead," he murmurs.

"Tell me all about it," he says before raising his hand quickly. "No. Don't tell me all about it. I don't need to know the sordid details... Just tell me when all this started, Joel. You too, hon'," he asks, looking over to you, his eyes filling up with tears before either of you even says a word.

"How could you?" he sniffs bitterly, looking every bit as hurt and betrayed as Joel thought he might, but he's not angry. Not angry at all. Just hurt that you two have been fooling around behind his back and keeping secrets.

You feel upset too and lower your head in shame, but Joel, for one, feels better now that he knows. The burden of the lie has been removed, and he's ready to face the consequences, whatever they may be.

Joel takes a deep breath, his hand tightening around yours. "I've been in love with her since the day she graduated," he tells your father, his voice steady and unwavering.

"Things moved quicker than I thought, and it wasn't until we both knew how much we were in love that it meant hurting you if you knew," Joel explains, not making excuses, but trying to help your dad understand.

Your father is silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "So. You coming all the way out here, for good. All that was just a way to get to her?" he asks, his tone laced with a hint of accusation.

"Don't twist it to make it look like that," Joel retorts, but your dad isn't entirely wrong.

"I meant what I said about helping you, and I still do," Joel reminds him, his voice firm.

"I can give her more than any man half my age, too. Give her a life..." Joel trails off, his words hanging in the air.

The tension in the room is palpable as your dad's anger flares, his words sharp and cutting. "What? Give her a life her father couldn't? She's my fucking daughter, Joel. Who the fuck asked you to help yourself, huh?" he demands, his frustration evident. But you interject, your own voice rising in defense.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I'm an adult. And I know you've provided for me, always made sure I have everything I need," you assert, your tone firm and unwavering.

"But do you think a woman like me is ever gonna have a guy like Joel just breeze into town, sweep me off my feet, and then let him go?" you challenge defiantly. "Getting eight bucks an hour tutoring part-time and living with my Dad into my old age isn’t the kind of life I had planned for myself."

Joel admires your fire, proud of you for speaking your mind. The air crackles with tension, but at least everyone is having their fair say. Despite the burning bridge, the honesty in the room feels like a weight lifted off your shoulders.

For your dad to take the news without his fists flying, Joel realizes he's matured more gracefully than he would have given him credit for. The pulse of the moment slows, the truth out in the open. No more hiding, but decisions loom ahead that may not be easy.

Your father reflects, a nostalgic air settling around him. "I knew that day of your graduation, sweetheart. And I know you better than you think, Joel," he says, his gaze shifting between the two of you. "I just didn't want to believe it."

"I love her," Joel declares, his voice unwavering. "I'm having his baby, Dad," you begin, the revelation causing a moment of shock between both your dad and Joel, before your laughter breaks the tension.

“You should have seen your faces.” You chuckle a little.

"Honestly, I want to have his kids, Dad. I want us to be together forever. I want to take care of Sarah. House, kids... the whole nine yards," you chime in, relief evident in your voice.

Your father's response is unexpected, a mix of emotions playing across his face. "I know you do, sweetie," he comforts you, a smile creasing his face. "You wanna be the mom you never had. And I guess I just didn't wanna lose the little girl I raised all on my own."

As your father prepares to leave, the moment's weight settles over you all. "I just need time, Joel," he finally says. "Time to get used to all this... Time to get used to not having her around."

The nuclear fallout you both expected never came, not in the way you expected. The night ends with a sense of understanding and acceptance, your father's blessing a silent promise of support and love.

Walking home next door, the weight of the evening hangs heavy in the air. In the quiet of your shared bed, you find solace in Joel's arms, the raw emotion of the moment bringing you closer than ever before. You are crying in his embrace, the tears flowing freely as the tension and relief of the confrontation with your father wash over you.

But it feels just as good to Joel, this shared vulnerability. Sharing the not-so-great times as well as the good times – this is what being with someone is truly all about. The good thing is that you don't have to keep anything secret anymore, and better still, you both have your dad's blessing.

Probably the most important thing for Joel, because without his best friend and the woman he loves, where would he be?

"We good?" you sniffle, rubbing your puffy eyes as you look up at Joel. He lifts your face from his chest, holding you close.

"Oh, we're better than good, darlin'," he smiles back at you. "We're perfect," he tells you, stroking your hair as you lie silent for a long time.

"I love you," you eventually murmur, drifting into a dreamless sleep with a little smile playing on your lips.

"And I love you more," he promises you, kissing your forehead goodnight. He's already waiting for the morning so he can tell you the same again, his heart swelling with the knowledge that you are his, and he is yours, without the need for secrecy or shame.

The weight of the evening has lifted, replaced by a sense of relief and contentment. No longer do you have to tiptoe around, hiding your love and affection. Your father's blessing, though not without its reservations, is a testament to the depth of your connection and the trust he has in Joel to care for you.

As you sleep peacefully in Joel's arms, he can't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. This woman, this life, is more than he ever dared to dream of. With your father's acceptance, the path ahead is clearer, and Joel is determined to cherish every moment, to build a future that will make you both proud.

As you stir from the depths of slumber, the remnants of a dream linger, tantalizing and vivid. Joel's image flickers in your mind, a hunger burning behind your eyelids, a relentless craving that claws at your senses.

With a slow, drowsy blink, reality floods back, engulfing you in a haze of sensation. Heat coils low in your belly, radiating outward as awareness seeps into every pore. And then you feel it—the intoxicating pressure between your thighs, a languid caress that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

Your gaze drifts downward, heart pounding in your chest as you take in the sight before you. Joel lies beneath the duvet, his form obscured yet unmistakable in the dim light. His rugged features are softened by the shadows, the scruff of his beard grazing your skin like a promise unspoken.

A shiver courses through you as his tongue dances over your slick folds, igniting a firestorm of need that threatens to consume you whole. Your back arches involuntarily, a breathy sigh escaping your lips as pleasure blossoms deep within.

"Joel... fuck..." you moan, the words torn from your throat in a desperate plea for more. His head emerges from beneath the covers, lips glistening with your essence, eyes smoldering with untamed desire.

"You gotta be quiet, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice thick with a southern drawl that sends shivers cascading down your spine. "Might wake the whole house up. Can you do that for me, be a good girl?"

Your heart pounds in your chest, pulse racing as his words wash over you like a wave crashing against the shore. With a nod, you bite down on your lip, a silent promise of compliance as you surrender to the whirlwind of sensation engulfing you.

As Joel's tongue delves deeper, tracing patterns of ecstasy along your sensitive flesh, your senses spiral out of control. Every flick, every swirl sends shockwaves of pleasure cascading through your body, igniting a fierce inferno that threatens to consume you whole.

"Fuck, Joel," you whimper, fingers tangling in the sheets as you surrender to the heady rush of sensation. His touch is electric, setting your nerve endings ablaze with a fervor unlike anything you've ever known.

With a low growl, Joel's lips capture yours in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a passionate dance of desire. His hands roam over your trembling form, tracing the curves of your body with reverent exploration.

"You taste like heaven, darlin'," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "Gonna make you scream my name until the whole damn house knows who you belong to."

A shudder wracks your body at his words, desire pooling low in your belly as you succumb to the primal urge driving you both. With a wordless plea, you arch into his touch, craving more of him with every fiber of your being.

Joel's fingers slip between your thighs, finding you slick and ready for him. With a wicked grin, he teases your entrance, circling your clit with agonizing slowness before plunging deep inside you with a single, relentless thrust.

"Fuck, yes," you cry out, the words torn from your lips in a breathless plea for more. Joel's pace quickens, each thrust driving you higher and higher until you're teetering on the edge of oblivion.

In the soft glow of morning light streaming through the window, you find yourself tangled in Joel's embrace, limbs intertwined in a mess of sheets and limbs. His chest rises and falls with each breath, the rhythmic cadence a comforting lullaby as you revel in the aftermath of your shared passion.

With a tender sigh, Joel presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his touch gentle against your feverish skin. "God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I could spend eternity right here, just like this."

You feel the heat stain your cheeks at his words, warmth flooding your veins at the intensity of his gaze. "I feel the same way," you whisper, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. "Being with you like this... it's like coming home."

Joel's lips curve into a tender smile, his eyes alight with adoration as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "You're my home, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp that sends shivers dancing down your spine. "And I'll do anything to make sure you feel safe and loved, always."

His words linger in the air, a comforting blanket enveloping you. In Joel's embrace, you discover a sense of peace, a haven amidst life's storms. Here, in this quiet moment, you realize that with Joel beside you, and you're so excited and can't wait to see what happens next.

As the morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table, you took a deep breath and shared the news with Sarah and Tommy. The revelation of your relationship with Joel and your decision to stay with them while your dad was away for the week hung in the air, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

Sarah's eyes lit up with joy, her enthusiasm palpable as she practically bounced in her seat, devouring her scrambled eggs with gusto. Tommy, ever the observant one, shot you both a sly look that made your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

You knew you needed to work on being quieter, but it was a challenge when Joel had a way of taking you to heights of pleasure that left you gasping and moaning, unable to contain the sounds of ecstasy that escaped your lips.

The dynamic between the four of you shifted subtly, a new energy crackling in the air as the unspoken tension of your newfound relationship with Joel lingered between bites of toast and sips of coffee. Sarah's infectious excitement was contagious, her chatter filling the room with a sense of camaraderie and shared secrets.

Tommy's knowing glances added a layer of intrigue to the morning, his playful smirk hinting at a deeper understanding of the dynamics at play. You couldn't help but feel a rush of desire at the thought of Joel's touch, his presence a magnetic pull that left you yearning for more, even in the most mundane moments.

As the morning unfolded, the anticipation of the week ahead hung in the air, a mix of uncertainty and excitement swirling around the breakfast table. The unspoken promise of stolen moments and whispered confessions added a layer of tension to the morning routine, turning the mundane into something charged with possibility.

With each passing minute, the weight of your decision to stay with Sarah and Tommy while your dad was away settled over you, a mix of nerves and anticipation building in the pit of your stomach.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape, you found yourself in the midst of a perfect evening with Joel. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze created a soothing backdrop to your shared moment.

Joel's hand in yours felt like a perfect fit, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. The two of you had decided to take a leisurely stroll through the nearby park, the soft grass underfoot adding to the sense of intimacy that enveloped you both.

As you walked side by side, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, a mix of playful banter and heartfelt confessions that deepened the connection between you. Joel's laughter was like music to your ears, his Texan drawl adding a touch of charm to every word he spoke.

"You know, darlin', I can't get enough of these little moments with you," Joel said, his gaze warm and adoring. "It's like the rest of the world just fades away when I'm with you."

You felt a blush creep across your cheeks, your heart fluttering at his words. "I feel the same way, Joel. Being here with you, it's like everything else just falls away."

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, casting a romantic glow over the scene. You couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, his features bathed in the warm light, his eyes reflecting the beauty of the moment.

As you reached a secluded spot by a tranquil pond, Joel's gaze met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, his touch sending a surge of desire through you. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of shared intimacy.

"I can't get enough of you," Joel murmured, his voice low and husky. "Every moment with you feels like a dream."

You melted into his embrace, the heat of his body searing through you. The air crackled with tension, desire simmering just beneath the surface as you lost yourselves in each other.

The soft rustle of the wind in the trees provided a gentle soundtrack to your shared moment, heightening the sense of intimacy between you. In that perfect moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of Joel's touch, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you.

As the evening drew to a close, the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, casting a magical spell over the night. With Joel by your side, you felt like anything was possible, the future stretching out before you like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of your love.

The stars had begun to twinkle in the darkening sky, lending an enchanted quality to the night. As you and Joel continued your leisurely stroll through the park, hand-in-hand, you couldn't help but be filled with a sense of wonder and possibility.

As if reading your thoughts, Joel squeezed your hand gently, his dimpled smile lighting up his features. "What's got you smiling like that, darlin'?" he asked, his affectionate nickname for you causing a flutter in your heart.

"I don't know," you replied honestly. "I just feel so... happy."

Joel's smile widened at your words. "Me too. Being here with you feels like magic."

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, taking in the sights and sounds around you. The chirping of crickets, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant hum of traffic - it all blended together to create a peaceful symphony that added to the romantic atmosphere.

As you reached a small clearing by a pond, Joel guided you towards a bench tucked away under a weeping willow tree. Sitting down beside him, you leaned against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you.

"This is perfect," he said softly, gazing out at the tranquil water. "Just being here with you under this beautiful sky."

The next few days were a whirlwind of stolen glances and heated touches, the air thick with unspoken desire and anticipation. Every stolen moment with Joel left you breathless, your skin tingling with the promise of what was to come. The thought of your father's imminent return lingered in the back of your mind, but in Joel's arms, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of shared intimacy.

One evening, as you stood side by side in the cozy kitchen, the scent of simmering spices filling the air, Joel's presence was a magnetic pull you couldn't resist. Without warning, he pulled you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that left you dizzy with need.

"I've been craving this all day, darlin'," Joel murmured against your lips, his breath hot against your skin.

A soft giggle escaped your lips, your fingers trailing down the strong lines of his jaw. "You certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?"

Joel's eyes gleamed with mischief, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what I have in store for you. I'm just gettin’ started."

Before you could respond, Joel scooped you up in his arms, a playful glint in his eyes as he carried you towards the bedroom. Your heart raced with excitement, your arms wrapping around his neck as he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body pressing against yours in a deliciously intimate embrace.

The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, the air heavy with the promise of passion and desire. Joel's touch ignited a fire within you, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that mirrored your own. Every caress, every kiss, sent a jolt of electricity through you, building the tension between you to a fever pitch.

Joel's breath was hot against your skin, his body moving in time with the rhythm of your own desires. He pulled away for a moment, gazing into your eyes, the only source of light in the room casting shadows across his face. "I love you," he whispered, his voice husky with need.

You couldn't respond, lost in the intensity of the moment. Your heart pounded in your chest, matching the throbbing pulse of desire between your legs. With a low growl, Joel moved his lips to yours once more, his tongue probing your mouth with a fierce hunger.

The sound of your labored breaths, mingling with the low growls of desire that escaped his lips. The air grew heavy with anticipation, charged by the electricity that crackled between you. His fingers traced the sensitive skin at the apex of your thighs, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your veins.

The heat radiating from his body, the primal energy pulsing between you. As he pulled you closer, your muscles tensed in anticipation, every cell in your body yearning for the connection.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, their tongues dancing together in a frenzied tango of need. You could taste the sweetness of desire on his lips, the tang of salt from your tears of pleasure. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory.

You couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as he spoke those words. You wanted nothing more than to take him into your mouth, venturing into the world of pleasure and sin that awaited you. You opened your mouth, allowing your tongue to dart out and wet your lips in anticipation, his eyes never leaving yours.

He guided his erection towards your mouth, the velvety head brushing against your lips. You opened wider, welcoming his invasion. His eyes darkened, and he groaned as you enveloped the entirety of his shaft in your warm embrace. You began to suck gently, the rhythmic motion of your head creating a wet, slurpy sound as your lips and tongue massaged him.

As he thrust deeper into your mouth, you struggled to breathe, your lungs involuntarily attempting to escape the suffocating embrace of his thick, pulsating member. Yet, you remained steadfast, determined to please him, to satiate his carnal desires.

His animalistic groans echoed in your ears, as though the very walls of the room had begun to quiver in response to his euphoric release. You could feel his veins, now bulging with the ferocity of his climax, vibrate against your sensitive lips and tongue, heightening the already intense sensations coursing through your body.

You could feel his heart pounding wildly, the rhythm syncing with the beats of your own. The room was filled with his scent, musk and sweat, a potent mix that drove you on. Your tongue swirled around his hard length, savoring the taste of him.

His hands gave your head a gentle squeeze, urging you on. His pleasure was your reward, the way his breath hitched and his hips thrust harder. You moved your head in time with his, sucking him deep, keeping a steady rhythm as his release approached.

The sudden tightening of his body spoke of his climax, and you knew you had to continue. Your lips glided up and down his shaft, focusing all your attention on the growing flutters within him.

Finally, he groaned, his release a hot, salty flood that filled your mouth. You swallowed quickly, eager to please him, the taste lingering on your tongue like the first bite of a ripe peach. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, his eyes locked on yours in a silent communion of satisfaction.

“You’re turn, darlin’,” Joel says, his eyes dark and his voice deep as midnight. You feel him grab your hips and begins to devour you, kissing every inch of skin and grabbing your body with an almost primal hunger. The air around you seems to grow thick with desire as you cling to him, your breath catching in your throat. He slides his hands up under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, and you can't help but arch into his touch, moaning softly.

Joel's lips trail down your neck, and you suck in a sharp breath as his teeth gently scrape against your delicate skin. A warm flush spreads across your body, and you feel yourself growing bolder, more willing with each passing moment. He bites down gently, leaving a mark that matches the one he gave you days ago, and you shudder with pleasure.

His lips explore every part of your body, getting closer and closer to your core. You can feel the heat radiating from him, his desire for you palpable in his every touch. The pace quickens as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently, a possession claim of sorts. Your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

His hands, strong and calloused, graze the soft skin at the nape of your neck, expertly unfastening the delicate clasp of your dress. It falls to the ground, pooling around your ankles, leaving you exposed in just a lace-edged bra and matching underwear.

Simultaneously, his hands slide beneath your underwear, his fingers exploring, tracing patterns and leaving trails of fire on your skin. He pauses, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze fierce and unyielding. In that moment, you feel a connection, a bond that transcends physical desire. It's more than just lust; it's passion, raw and unbridled.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, skin against skin, and moans of pleasure, creating a symphony of desire that drowns out any other noise.

The air is heavy with the scent of sweat and musk, a heady mixture that serves to heighten the sensual atmosphere. The lingering scent of scented candles adds a touch of sweetness to the mix.

You can't take it anymore. The anticipation, the desire, it's all too much. Your body is on fire, begging for release. And Joel knows it.

"Fuck, Joel, please," you whine, your hips grinding against his in desperation.

He chuckles darkly, his lips grazing against your neck. "Alright, baby," he murmurs, and before you know it, he has entered you.

His cock slides into your weeping hole with ease; you're slick and wet from both arousal and anticipation. You gasp at the feeling of him filling you up completely, every inch of him stretching you in all the right ways.

Joel's movements are slow and deliberate at first, as if savoring every moment. But soon enough, the pace quickens as he pounds into you with a primal need.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, each thrust sending shivers of pleasure through you.

Moans and gasps escape your lips uncontrollably as Joel hits all the right spots within you. Every touch feels like electricity coursing through your veins; every kiss like a fire burning between you two.

Your fingers grip onto his back desperately as he brings you closer to the edge. Your moans become louder and more frantic as your body tenses with impending release.

With one final thrust, Joel pushes both of you over the edge into pure ecstasy. Your bodies tremble together as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You cling onto each other tightly as powerful orgasms rock through your bodies.

As you come down from your high, Joel pulls out of you gently and collapses beside you on the bed. Your breathing is heavy and labored as both of your hearts beat in sync.

Joel pulls a blanket over both of your naked bodies before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. You snuggle into his chest contentedly, feeling more satisfied and loved than you ever have before.

The sunlight streams in through the window, casting a warm glow over your tangled bodies. You stir, slowly coming to consciousness as the events of last night flood back to you.

Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself staring into Joel's deep brown gaze. He smiles at you, his fingers still tracing soothing patterns on your skin.

"I love you," he says, his words soft and sincere.

The sound of his voice is filled with love and emotion, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You smile and snuggle closer to him, basking in the warmth of his love. It's a feeling like no other, one that fills you with happiness and contentment.

As you lay there together in peaceful silence, memories of how the two of you came to be fill your mind. And it was the best decision either of you had ever made.

"I can't imagine my life without you," Joel whispers, breaking the silence between you two.

Tears prick at your eyes at his words. You feel overwhelmed with emotion - gratefulness for having someone like him in your life and overwhelming love for him.

"I feel the same way," you reply honestly, turning to look into his eyes once again. "I never want to lose you."

Joel leans in and kisses you gently, sealing his promise with actions rather than words. And as your lips move against each other's in a sweet embrace, all doubts fade away.

This is real and true love; a connection that goes beyond physical attraction or fleeting emotions.

It was a connection that defied reason and logic, a force that could not be contained or explained. It was a love that knew no boundaries and bloomed in every corner of their being, the sweetest melody that echoed in their hearts with every beat.

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shyvioletcat · 4 months

Text

Happy Holidays @sassyhobbits. I know this is very late but it's finally here! Thank you for understanding the hectic circumstances I found myself in pre-Christmas. I am officially the last postee of the @rowaelinscourt secret santa and as an apology I added a bonus epilogue to this fic. I hope you love it! It was very fun to write.

Word Count: 9500

CW: Swearing and smut

~~~~~

Aelin didn’t know how it happened. After almost a year of dancing around each other she and Rowan had finally gone on a date. And that date was perfect. Perfect food, perfect conversation and Aelin even found the perfect dress to wear for the night. It was a tasteful red number, in her favourite shade, tight enough to show off her form but not tight enough that everyone got the full show. Aelin couldn’t fault the night, and she had replayed every moment over and over enough to be confident in that conclusion. So she didn’t understand why even after the sweetest and most perfect kiss goodnight Rowan had vanished.

Completely and utterly ghosted her.

After kissing her goodnight at the door she had neither sight nor sound of him. There was a string of messages from her that had gone unanswered and in the end she had to find out through mutual friends that he had in fact vanished—physically. No one knew where he went or why, one day he was there and the next he was gone. Aelin hadn’t even managed one day of post date flirting in their office before he was gone.

She had to go to Lorcan of all people to get confirmation that Rowan was alive. The information was passed over in a brief and curt conversation that between the lines said very clearly mind your own business. In other circumstances Aelin would have never approached the surly bastard, and the fact she had was testament to her desperation. Aelin was left to wonder and wallow, both of which she kept out of the workplace. She was the picture of professionalism, aloof and pretending to be unaffected by her damaged heart. Because she liked Rowan, more than liked even, and she thought that he cared for her too. Everything that Aelin had assumed was obviously wrong.

It was pointless to worry about and Aelin was determined to put it out of her mind. Tonight was the perfect opportunity at the annual Yulemas party. A night of drinking and frivolity was exactly what she needed. This year the company had rented out a private room in a swanky pub by the river. Being so Aelin was dressing for the part. She knew the place and had been there a few times. There was a giant fireplace that would warm the whole room, so really she only needed her coat for the brief trip from the car to inside. She was wearing a satin green dress, the whole thing pleated. The neckline and back both dipped into a deep V, with a thick band around her waist. The sleeve barely went past the top of her shoulder and the hemline reached mid calf. It was a classy number with just a little bit of daring.

The responsible driver that she was, Aelin checked on the arrival of the Uber as she put the finishing touches on her ensemble. They were elegant gold drop earrings and a delicate matching chain around her neck. The gold dust she added to her eyelids highlighted the gold tones in her eyes and matched her jewellery too, and with one final look in the mirror decided she was done. Aelin watched the approach of her ride on her phone and when it was close enough she slipped on her red three quarter length coat and darted out into the cold.

Blessedly, the ride to the pub wasn’t far and her driver was on the quieter side. Aelin didn’t feel like talking to a stranger. She still said thank you though as she left the car, and she had just dipped her hands into the pocket of her coat when she felt her phone buzz with a notification. Not willing to freeze her fingers off in the bitter Orynth winter, Aelin waited until she was in the doorway before she pulled her phone out to read the message. It was from Lysandra, her best friend turned cousin’s girlfriend through a turn of happy circumstances. She didn’t work with Aelin but she would have come as Aedion’s plus one because he did.

Lys: You’ll never BELIEVE who’s here.

There was no other information besides those five words but Aelin knew, she knew who Lysandra was talking about. Her stomach twisted as she pushed through the door and she couldn’t tell if it was the warmth of the fire or her anxiety that warmed her cheeks. The sound of chatter and laughter drew her attention and she could see all her colleagues standing around, drinks in hand and mingling. Like a moth to a flame her gaze zeroed in on the one man she was not expecting to see.

Dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and grey pants, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and looking effortlessly handsome as he always did, was Rowan. He didn’t notice her and Aelin bit down on the need to hide before he did. She just needed to disappear into the crowd and effortlessly ignore him.

Aelin slipped off her coat and draped it over her arm, walking over to the gathered party. She was just on the edges of it when Rowan noticed her.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She quickly turned before she could read the expression on his face, she needed to come up with some kind of plan—and fast. Aelin glanced over her colleagues and spotted her saviour. A man who was down for anything, and despite being friends with the both of them Aelin knew he would do whatever she asked.

Plastering a smile on her face Aelin hurried the last few steps towards her target which would be interpreted as excitement. When she was close enough her hands rested on his forearm, steadying her as she rose up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Pretend to be my date,” Aelin said, wiping away the slight lipstick residue from his cheek.

Fenrys peered down at her with a perplexed look that quickly turned into enthusiasm. “Sure thing, I got you.”

Aelin sighed in relief. “You’ve saved my life.’

Fenrys gave her a perfectly flirtatious wink. “Always happy to help. Would you like a drink?”

Aelin nearly groaned. “Desperately.”

Fenrys stepped away, putting a hand on her lower back as he circled her on the way to the bar. As soon as he was gone Lysandra sidled up next to her, dressed in a form fitting, knee length, one shoulder, green velvet number. She looped their arms together, bringing them closer so she could whisper. “What was that?”

“Hey, we’re matching,” Aelin diverted, nodding down at her own green dress she’d chosen for the evening.

But Lysandra was not going to be so easily distracted. “That was nowhere even close to the answer to that question.”

Aelin knew she wouldn’t get away with not answering and tossed her loose hair over her shoulder, standing a little taller. “Fenrys is now my date.”

“Oh, I see,” Lysandra said, nodding sagely. “And that wouldn’t have anything to do with the sudden reappearance of a certain someone, would it?”

Her best friend was privy to everything that had gone on. Lysandra was the only one to have heard about Aelin’s feelings about being abandoned by the man she might very well be falling in love with. Aelin had gone back and forth and around in circles so many times trying to figure what had happened, then more importantly how she felt about it. Lysandra had listened and given advice, so knew how much Rowan’s appearance had rattled Aelin even as she took the contrary path.

“Of course not.”

“Well, you do what you have to do. A little bit of jealousy never hurt anybody,” Lysandra said.

“Precisely,” Aelin said as she sent a glowing smile Fenrys’ way as he approached with their drinks. As he got closer Aelin disentangled herself from her best friend and swapped her physical closeness to her date. She wrapped a hand around his waist and took her drink. Fenrys played the part perfectly, casually relaxing into her touch brushing his thumb at a respectful position on her hip.

“Do I get to know what all this is about, or?” Fenrys asked, shooting a curious look over the rim of his glass.

“Maybe later,” Aelin said in hushed tones, not wanting to risk being overheard. “But for now, you are my date.”

“Boyfriend?” Fenrys was sounding a little too keen.

“Mmm, almost,” Aelin hesitated. She glanced at Rowan who was looking over at her and doing a very poor job at hiding it. Her reaction was to lean into Fenrys a little more, a hand lifting to his face to brush one of his stray curls out of his face. “We’ll see how we go.”

Throughout the night they both played their parts perfectly. Fenrys was doting and attentive, he always had a hand on her, making sure they looked like they were here together. If any other colleagues had questions they kept quiet. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves enough to not worry about anyone else’s business. Aelin was on her way back from the bathroom and searching for her fake date when she got distracted by some kind of clatter coming from the kitchen and ended up walking into a body. In her towering heels she swayed a little but that body also had an arm, and it reached out to stop her from falling on her ass.

“Sorry, Aelin.”

Oh no.

Dread filled her body as she recognised the voice, and considered running. She had expertly avoided him all night and then now because of one moment of distraction it had been ruined. She would have circumnavigated her way around him instead of walking into his stupidly solid body.

“It’s fine,” she muttered.

Rowan must have realised that he was still holding onto her, and almost gingerly let her go. Aelin pointedly ignored every emotion that abrupt gesture made rise up. She didn’t know where to look, but she certainly didn’t want to look at him, so she chose up.

Oh. Gods. No, no way was she committing to this and she needed to move before someone else noticed. Everyone was tipsy enough that they would insist. Whoever decided hanging mistletoe was a good idea needed a brutal form of punishment. And looking at Rowan now… she knew that look in his eyes. He was contemplating the godsdamned tradition. She would bet her Yulemas bonus that the next words out of his mouth would be asking for permission. Aelin needed to flee, with dignity, and she couldn’t quite work out how to do it.

“There you are, Princess,” Fenrys’ smooth voice came from behind her as his arm snaked around her waist. Aelin literally sighed in relief. “And would you look at that.”

As Aelin turned into Fenrys’ embrace she followed his gaze upward to the tastefully tied sprig hung from the ceiling.

“May I?” Fenrys asked under his breath.

“Yes,” Aelin answered just as quietly.

Cupping her cheek Fenrys lowered his mouth to hers. Slow enough that Aelin could change her mind, but not so slow it made it look weird. His lips were warm and steady, and she had to hand it to the guy, he was a good kisser. More than that he made sure it was quite the show for anyone—just maybe the person closest to them—who might be watching. Fenrys even went as far as giving her just the smallest of dips, a broad hand on her back to keep them steady. She had to hand it to him, he was putting on a show in the very best way. She was sure from the movement of his lips that it probably looked like he was devouring her face too.

The kiss ended and Fenrys righted them, giving Aelin a sly wink along the way. She couldn’t help it, she turned to see Rowan’s reaction. She sensibly expected to find that he had fled the scene. To her petty delight he hadn’t, he was just glaring at them with an expression of confused shock. Then he shook his head, walking away and straight to the bar.

Aelin turned to her partner in crime who was looking very smug. “Thanks for withholding the tongue.”

“I am nothing if not a gentleman,” he replied.

That made Aelin laugh and she hugged her friend in gratitude for upholding his reputation for being down for absolutely anything.

“Come on.” Fenrys said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Let’s get you a drink.

It was two drinks later when the flow of the night was disrupted and brought to a very abrupt halt. Aelin was at the bar when there was an almost simultaneous reaction as everyone received the same message at the same time. Aelin read the alert and was mildly thankful she had a legitimate reason to cut the night short.

SEVERE WEATHER WARNING: BLIZZARD CONDITIONS EXPECTED. SEEK SHELTER SOON IN PREPARATION.

There was a lull while everyone processed and then everything restarted as they planned their next moves. Not having her car here, Aelin was in a slight bind. She quickly brought up the Uber app but the drivers were all shutting down their cars so that they could stay off the roads and bunker down. Aelin’s masterful plan of getting a ride had backfired, and she didn’t exactly live near anyone else in attendance. Aedion, who was her best bet, had left about an hour ago. Her only option now was to beg for a lift. Fenrys, as her fake date, seemed the best place to start. She looked for him in the crowd and spotted him at the table they had been occupying while they ate the steady stream of nibblies that had been served throughout the night.

“Can you drive me home?”

“Sure thing, babe,” Fenrys said.

“You live in the complete opposite direction,” Rowan said without an invitation to the conversation. Aelin hadn’t even noticed that he was standing there.

“Yes, thank you for pointing that out,” Aelin said, dismissing him.

“Let me take you so Fenrys can get home before the weather gets too bad,” Rowan added.

“Don’t hate me, Aelin,” Fenrys said quietly and grimacing. “But he has a point.”

“Some date you are,” Aelin threw back at him.

Fenrys tried to give her a smile but the glare she was shooting at him must have been making that difficult. “Misty doesn’t like snow storms.”

“Low blow, you know Misty is my weak spot,” Aelin said, voice resigned. Misty was a white husky and a complete baby. She hated being left alone, and Aelin knew that in this weather her anxiety would rise. Despite her substantial size, that dog was as soft as a marshmallow, which with her winter coat he closely resembled.

Fenrys stooped down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Aelin. If he tries anything just kick him in the balls and kick him out of the car. He’s cold-hearted enough that he’ll survive.”

And didn’t Aelin know it.

She tried not to let her disappointment and anxiety show as she smiled at Fenrys. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

Fenrys gave her a wink as he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair. “Any time.”

Entirely unimpressed by the situation Aelin turned around to address Rowan. “Fine. Let’s go.”

She grabbed her coat and stormed over to the front door. All he did was fall in step behind, catching the door for himself as they stepped into the cold. In her rush Aelin hadn’t bothered with putting her coat on and was now freezing. What made the situation worse was that in her frustration she managed to lose her coordination. She got one arm in but the other refused to work with her and she couldn’t find the other sleeve.

The coat suddenly got lighter and there was a soft murmuring of, “Here.”

Just wanting to get warm Aelin allowed the assistance to happen. She didn’t bother to look at Rowan or say thank you, she just braced herself for the deteriorating weather. The wind sent the snowflakes around in thick flurries, and from the bitter and harsh chill in the air Aelin knew they were in for a bad one. Rowan was only a few steps behind her, and she waited for him to lead the way to his car.

“This way,” was all he said before he walked down the street.

The snow was sticking enough that Rowan’s shoes were leaving imprints in the snow. Aelin followed them step for step, not wanting to risk slipping. Honestly, she wanted this walk to last forever so that she wouldn’t have to be alone in a car with this man who found her so abhorrent he couldn’t even offer an explanation for his behaviour. Probably. That was obviously the most logical reason.

A ridiculous reason was that he had been abducted by aliens and had only just been returned to earth.

Aelin was so caught up in her own thoughts that her high heeled boot sinking into untouched snow was her indication that they’d reached Rowan’s car. He was there, the door held ajar ready to let her in. She hated the chivalry of it, hated that she liked the consideration. Why couldn’t he just be a bastard and make it easy to hate him? All Aelin could do was ignore everything besides the need to get home. The door opening was a means to an end. Sitting inside the freezing car waiting for it to drive on the snow covered road was just the next thing on the list. Sitting in silence is what would get her home. She just hoped Rowan was in on the plan.

Rowan started the car, all his attention on the precarious conditions outside. It seemed they were on the same brainwave because he didn’t say a word and Aelin chose to distract herself on her phone. She shot off a message to Lysandra to explain the awful situation she has been left in thanks to her early departure and then she checked the weather. They were in for a serious storm tonight, and it was looking like it might shut the city down tomorrow as well. That at least meant tomorrow she could wallow in self pity alone.

At times Aelin knew Rowan was glancing her way, she could see him in her peripheries but not once did she fall for the bait. If he didn’t have the balls to start a conversation she wasn’t going to give him any help on the matter. Aelin just started counting down the minutes until she would be safe and home.

Twenty minutes later and they’d done it. All the way out to Aelin’s tidy little house neither of them had said a single word. Rowan pulled into her driveway, his headlights the only thing illuminating the front facade of her house. Aelin must have forgotten about her porch light on her way out the door. From the look of it the snow was already a few inches thick. The flashlight on her phone would have to be her trusty companion. Because she wasn’t entirely devoid of manners she wasn’t going to leave without thanking Rowan for going out of his way.

“Thanks,” she muttered quickly.

Before she could even get her hand to the handle Rowan replied, “let me walk you to the door.”

Aelin was gaping as he got out and turned the torch on his phone. She got out of the car before he could come around and get her himself. Then she couldn’t help it, she slammed the door harder than she should have. Rowan didn’t say a word to her the entire trip and now he was trying to be the nice guy and walk her to her door? She’d had enough. Aelin wanted him gone but she also wanted some kind of explanation because this cold to lukewarm was beyond frustrating.

Marching past Rowan with her own phone out, Aelin blindly grabbed her keys out of her handbag. It was small so that was easy, and she had them in hand as she stomped up the wooden steps of her front porch. The porch was screened in so it offered some reprieve from the weather. Rowan was considerate enough to angle his phone so that she could see what she was doing and in moments her front door was unlocked.

“Goodnight,” Rowan said, his obligations discharged.

That was when Aelin broke. She nudged the door open just so she could reach on and flick on the porch light. Rowan had already started his descent into the night but she wasn’t about to let him get away that fast.

“Hey,” Aelin nearly shouted. “What is your deal?”

Rowan stopped just on the edge of the porch, then took another step forward to stop the snow from falling on him. “I didn’t want you to fall in the dark.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Aelin willed her emotions in the direction of anger. “What did I do that made you disappear for weeks and then you come back and there’s still nothing?”

Emotion flashed across Rowan’s face, and his mouth tightened. “It wasn’t you.”

Aelin scoffed. “That’s lovely to hear and I totally believe you.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Why, Rowan?” Aelin asked, her voice coming out with a finality that told him if he didn’t answer her now he wouldn’t have another chance.

Rowan stepped forward a little more, fully under the protection of the porch roof now. “It was my ex.”

“Your ex?” Aelin’s voice was incredulous. “Ah-uh. That’s reassuring.”

“Please, just listen.” Rowan’s fisting tightened, showing the tension in his body.

But Aelin could not suppress the bitter resignation that was overwhelming her. “No, say no more. I’m a smart girl. I can put two and two together.”

She was more than obviously on her way into the house, because she’d heard enough. Hearing the confirmation from Rowan’s mouth just might obliterate what was left of her heart. Seething anger was her best defence, she couldn’t let him have the upper hand. Freedom was within reach—Aelin’s hand was on the door—when there was a gentle touch on her shoulder. A voice inside her head told her to ignore it, to just step inside her house and give the door a well deserving slam right in Rowan’s face. For some godsdamned reason she chose not to listen to that angry but highly sensible voice. Aelin turned, taking in Rowan’s hesitant features in the grey light.

“Can you just hear what I have to say?” Rowan all but pleaded. Aelin nodded, watching as the man in front of her sighed heavily, readying himself. “Turns out right before my ex and I broke up she got pregnant, and she didn’t tell me. I have a daughter, her name is Ivy and she’s nearly two. I left because I went to Doranelle to meet her and sort everything out. You didn’t hear from me because I didn’t know how to process any of this. All I knew was that I needed to get on a plane and meet this child I didn’t know anything about, which is what I did. And I’m sorry for whatever pain that caused you.”

Aelin was speechless, she could only stare at Rowan while emotion flooded him. She hadn’t expected this. When he’d said ex she had expected that they had come back into Rowan’s life, and that old flame had rekindled, not that.

“Oh,” was all she managed to say.

“I’m sorry for what happened, Aelin,” Rowan said. “It wasn’t what I wanted for us, but I didn’t know how to navigate through it all.”

For a moment Aelin just contemplated the news. Rowan had a kid, a daughter—nearly two according to him. It was a lot to take in, and there was one thing she kept coming back to. It was most likely due to her simmering anger, but she and Rowan had been friends until they took the plunge into something more, so Aelin couldn’t help but ask herself why hadn’t he told her? She’d been devastated, and she couldn’t let that go.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Aelin said quietly.

“I…” Rowan hesitated and looked out into the dark. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

“You need one, Rowan.” Her anger had free rein now that the shock had worn off. “You left me hurt and wondering what I could have done to drive you away. You could have said anything, just one little thing and I would have been fine. I get what you’re going through is hard but you didn’t need to shut me out.”

“You’re right,” Rowan said simply.

“Great, glad we cleared that up.” Aelin felt her emotions rising as she spoke, and she didn’t want to cry in front him. “You should go.”

“I will,” he said, but he didn’t go just yep. “I’m sorry, again.”

“Thanks for that, means a lot,” Aelin said, the sarcasm dripping from each word.

Rowan straightened, anger flashing across his features, but besides a slight narrowing of his eyes he offered her no other reaction. Aelin didn’t say goodbye as she went into her house, leaning on the door to shut it. She thought she could hear Rowan’s footsteps trudging through the snow, or maybe that was just her imagination willing him away. He’d offered her an explanation but that didn’t wipe away the weeks of simmering hurt. Yes, they had taken the next step in their relationship but more than that they were friends. And friends didn’t leave like that.

Aelin shook her head and made for her bedroom, fiddling with the thermostat on the way. If a blizzard was imminent she wanted to prepare accordingly. She focused the heating towards her bedroom, there were no plans to spend any time elsewhere in the house. Maybe just the kitchen for a midnight snack to drown her sorrows.

She tugged off her coat and hung that up, and then her boots were next. Aelin was unclasping the chain at her neck when there was a knock on her door. At first Aelin thought she was hearing things so just froze where she was, listening and waiting to see if it happened again. It did, this time more insistent.

The first thing she felt was confusion and then apprehension, because who would be knocking on her door at this time of night in this kind of weather? Aelin’s chest caved a little at the most obvious answer as to who it might be. Barefooted, she left her bedroom and walked down the hall to the front of the house. The porch light went back on and Aelin used the peephole to confirm her suspicions.

“For fucks sake,” she muttered to herself and didn’t wait to all but throw the door open. “What is it?”

Rowan stood there, looking miserable and freezing. “My car won’t start.”

Aelin blinked once. “What?”

“Cold drain and it won’t start,” Rowan said, a jerking gesture of his hand towards the driveway.

Aelin peered around Rowan’s broad shoulders, noting how bad the weather had gotten. His excuse was plausible and there was no way he’d be able to find an alternative arrangement to get him home now. Aelin could not believe her luck. What else was this night going to throw at her?

“Come in then,” she said, stepping back to let Rowan through the door.

He did as she instructed, with barely a glance in Aelin’s direction. Rowan quickly ran into a problem—he didn’t know where to go. So he ended up lingering in the entryway, kind of glancing around to get some idea of where he should be heading. Aelin shut the door on the blistering cold of the outside world and felt like she was setting a trap for herself. There was only one course of action here, despite her feelings she couldn’t leave Rowan to freeze in his car. Her couch would have to do.

“This way,” Aelin said, leading him through the entryway and past her study to the living room. It was far colder in here because of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out on a stylish courtyard. Even with the curtains closed there was a definite chill in the air. It would only get colder too. “I’ll grab you some things.”

“Thanks,” was Rowan’s response.

Aelin went off to her linen cupboard, gathering some sheets and her thickest blanket. While she quickly slipped a pillow into a fresh pillowcase she worked very hard to keep her thoughts rational.

“Fine. This is fine,” she told herself. “I’ll just close my door and pretend he doesn’t exist. I’ll just pretend he’s off living his new life without me.”

Hugging the bedding to her chest Aelin went back to the living room. Rowan was by the window, peeking behind the curtains, checking out the weather. Aelin dropped everything in the middle of the three seater. Rowan let go of the curtain but he didn’t move from his spot by the window. This felt like a standoff and Aelin couldn’t work out what for. Did he want to say something? Apologise again? Or was he waiting for her to magnanimously forgive him for leaving her? If the latter was what he was after he was out of luck.

“If you need anything else the linen cupboard is just outside the bathroom,” Aelin said and left it at that.

“It’s nice to see you’ve moved on so quickly.” There was a definite tinge of bitterness to his voice.

For a brief moment Aelin was confused, then she remembered her little game of pretend with Fenrys that seemingly was coming back to bite her in the ass. But she wasn’t about to yield defeat now. “Jealousy is never a good look.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said far too quickly.

Aelin was relishing in the fact that she had got under his skin. “Enjoy the show, did you?”

“That’s all it was, wasn’t it? A farce to get a rise out of me?”

Rowan was always a little too perceptive for his own good. Aelin shrugged in response. “Sometimes you just have to work with what you’ve got.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Rowan asked.

But Aelin wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation. “Goodnight, Rowan. Sweet dreams.”

The house was silent as Aelin made her way back to her bedroom leaving Rowan floundering with her sickly sweet goodnight and confusion around the whole Fenrys matter. The only sounds were the steadily worsening storm outside. Sleep was the ultimate goal and Aelin could only hope that Rowan wouldn’t haunt her dreams—his close proximity making that very likely. Back in the sanctuary of her bedroom she reached for her phone typing across the screen at breakneck pace and managing not even one typo. The message was intended for her best friend, but Aelin doubted she’d get a reply. Lysandra would probably be blissfully asleep by now.

Aelin: Thanks to your early departure to do GODS know what ROWAN has ended up in my house. I blame you and your drunken horniness.

Aelin threw the phone onto her plush blanket and yanked on the tie that held her sleeves up across her upper back. Apparently, she had pulled the wrong one, because all she accomplished was tangling it into a tight knot. Biting down on her frustration she counted to three before shifting her focus to her zipper. If she could get the dress loose around her waist it could just go over her head. Simple.

But Aelin wasn’t as in charge of her appendages as she thought she was. That frustration was swirling with that anger and mixing into something that was feeling a lot like anxiety. That combination was fatal and the sharp pull she gave on her zipper only caused it to jam. The satin had slipped between Aelin’s fingers and no matter how hard she tried, the fabric wasn’t coming free.

“Come on,” she hissed, trying over and over again. It didn’t work. She was trapped and she vowed never to wear this dress again.

Aelin moved over to her mirror so she could inspect the situation. Peering over her shoulder it was hard to tell the best way out. She was searching through the pleats when her disastrous night took yet another turn for the worse. The lights went out and Aelin cursed colourfully. What a time to get stuck in her dress.

There were three options for Aelin at this moment. One, she could rip herself out of the dress, but she liked it and had spent a decent amount of money on it. Option two she could sleep in it, even though that would mean being highly uncomfortable with it cinching at her waist and it would undoubtedly tangle around her legs. Number three was the worst but also the one with the highest chance of success.

“Rowan,” Aelin called out into the dark, waiting for a response but not expecting one.

“Yes?” He answered surprisingly fast.

“I need your help, can you come in here?”

There was no verbal answer but soon enough she heard his footfalls moving through the house. He was using the torch on his phone to lead the way and Aelin blinked as that white light came not the room. Rowan was still in his shirt and pants, but he had removed his shoes. For a moment she wondered what he’d planned to sleep in but promptly decided that it was none of her business. Instead She put her back to him so that he could see the problem, but still said, “I’m stuck.”

“Okay,” was Rowan’s very simple answer.

Aelin heard him move closer and he set his phone down on the bed so that he could work. With a brief nudge of his fingers he shooed hers away from the jammed zipper so that he could work. She dropped her hands to her sides and waited. To help with whatever the problem was his fingers brushed the bare skin of her back. Aelin could have yelped from how freezing they were. It reminded her that her living room would be so cold without the heater to warm it up now that the power was out. Her bedroom would be the most comfortable room in the house. Lucky her.

They both stood in silence, Aelin perfectly still while Rowan worked. His presence behind her was hard to ignore, she could feel the warmth of his body and it sent her rigid when he stepped that little bit closer to get a better angle.

“It's stuck good,” Rowan muttered. “Just give me a second.”

“Alright,” Aelin said softly.

There was a sharp tug around her waist and then the sound of the zipper giving way, and Aelin sighed in relief.

“Hold on, I’ll get the top too,” Rowan added.

The ties tickled her back so much that Aelin shivered and Rowan murmured his apologies. Soon enough that was undone too and she felt the sleeves threaten to fall off her shoulders. Aelin didn’t move, and neither did Rowan. There seemed to be an impasse developing, they were caught in a limbo. It was Rowan who sighed and stepped back, sighing as he did.

“I’m so sorry,” Rowan said, his voice sounding almost devasted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like I did. It was selfish of me, but I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure how you would handle it. Suddenly I’ve got baggage and my life has completely changed, and there was the chance you would run. And I…” Rowan inhaled deeply. “I don’t want to risk this because I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Those words shocked the breath out of her. Aelin turned slowly, the white light of the phone torch lighting Rowan’s features. All the anger of earlier was gone, in front of her stood a man defeated. For all her claiming that they were friends, Aelin wasn’t being a great one herself.

“I just,” Rowan stalled again and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to be a shitty father. I couldn't ignore Ivy’s existence and keep going how things were. I’m sorry you were the casualty in all of this.”

“Oh, Rowan,” Aelin sighed. Yes, he had left her, but the alternative might have broken him further. The Rowan he knew would never shirk out of a responsibility that would have such lasting effects. That wouldn’t be the man she had fallen in love with. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise, this is me. I fucked things up,” he insisted. “You have nothing to be sorry for, I shouldn’t—“

Aelin did the only thing she could think of to shut him up and that was to put her mouth on his. Rowan immediately melted into the kiss, his broad hands going to her waist, then sweeping to the small of her back to press her closer. When their lips broke apart their foreheads met and for a few long moments they just stood there, taking each other and the sudden development in.

“I want you, everything that you are, Rowan. If you had not gone you wouldn’t be the man I know,” Aelin told him. “The man that I’m falling in love with.”

His hands tightened on her waist. “Aelin,” Rowan whispered.

“This doesn’t change who you are,” Aelin said, stepping a little closer. “You’ve said you’ve messed up but I’m seeing now you were doing what you could. I’m sure you’ll make up for all the shit you put me through.”

“My life is completely changed now, though. I have a daughter.” There was a touch of anguish in his voice, as if he was still tearing himself up over everything.

“And I have a thing for DILFs.”

The inappropriate words were out of her mouth before Aelin could even think and the mortification she felt quickly melted away as Rowan laughed. The sound burst out of him, likely due to the suddenness of the quip. She was even rewarded with a brief but infinitely sweet kiss.

“Goodnight, Aelin. We can talk more in the morning.”

Aelin wasn’t having that and she caught Rowan by the shirt, hands fisting in the white crisp material that seemed to glow in the harsh light. “You’ll freeze out there. It’ll be warmer in here, if we stay together. You know what they say about the cold and body heat.”

The offer was there, and Aelin hoped to the gods Rowan would take it. She had just managed to get him back, she wasn’t about to let him go again so soon.

“The couch is fine.” The words of a true gentleman.

“Stay,” Aelin pleaded, foreheads together and she teased him with the slightest brush of her lips.

“You’re sure?” Rowan asked, his grip on her waist getting tighter.

Aelin dropped her shoulders, let her dress drop to her elbows. It was something Rowan didn’t miss, his eyes darting down to the lace that was newly exposed.

“Stay with me, Rowan.”

That was all the permission he needed and then he was kissing her again. Using the grip Aelin still had on his shirt she pulled him down with her as she fell back. Rowan was more than willing, catching himself as before he crushed her.

“The whole time I was away I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said in between kisses. “That one kiss is what kept me going.”

Aelin could sense yet another apology coming, but she had had enough of words, she needed action. “I said you could make it up to me, why don’t you start now?”

The sound of Rowan’s low laugh against Aelin’s neck had her skin breaking out in goosebumps, even more so when his fingers dragged over her shoulders, pulling her dress down. Aelin’s breath was heavy and she could feel herself straining against the confines of her exposed bra. The phone light was still on, highlighting every curve that Rowan’s dark eyes were currently roving over. When their gazes met Aelin’s arousal spiked, from that look she could tell Rowan was a man with ideas and she was ready to be part of every single one of them.

“It would be my pleasure,” Rowan said.

And hers.

Braced over her, he lowered his lips to her breast, teasing the peak of it through the black lace of her bra. Aelin moaned, one hand finding its way into Rowan’s silver hair and the other running up his back. She could feel his muscles shifting as he switched to the other breast. Holy gods, was he determined to make it up to her. Just with his tongue and teeth she was already a needy, writhing mess. From the smile she caught tilting up the corners of his mouth it was clear Rowan was enjoying himself too.

Then he was working his way down her body, taking the dress with him. When he and the dress got to her hips Aelin lifted them and within moments all that she was left in was her matching lingerie set.

“Beautiful,” Rowan said.

Aelin preened under the compliment, raising a knee slightly and stretched her arms above her head. She knew she looked good, she could feel it in the way Rowan’s gaze tracked her movements—the way his hand slid down to a heavy presence at her hips. Rowan was kneeling at the foot of the bed now, he’d got there without her noticing. What she did notice was his finger moving her underwear to the side and his mouth pressing against her core.

Aelin was dizzy with pleasure as Rowan worked her with his tongue. She utterly surrendered to him, letting him guide her towards that peak that was approaching embarrassingly fast. Rowan didn’t seem to mind though, and he could read her like a book. He sucked on her clit and then flicked it with his tongue, making Aelin moan.

“Come for me, love,” Rowan said lowly, his voice rumbling against her sensitive skin. “I know you’re right there.”

He went back to work with a rolling sweep of his tongue and Aelin broke. Her hips moved of their own accord, riding his face as wave after wave of her orgasm was drawn out by Rowan’s expertise. When Aelin’s body went limp Rowan withdrew, and somewhere in her hazy brain she registered him removing his clothes, then he paid her the same courtesy. Clever fingers undid her bra with one hand and then her underwear was gone as well. Aelin had recovered enough that she sat up on her elbows and was able to see all of him. Rowan was magnificent, and Aelin took the time to look her fill, eyes catching on the hand that slowly worked his erection. Sitting up a little further Aelin moved up the bed until she was leaning against the pillows. Like magnets being drawn to each other Rowan followed, nearly prowling until he was hovering over her.

Aelin reached down, stroking Rowan’s cock, sighing at the silken feel of him. He groaned, his head falling to her shoulder. Impatient Rowan kept one arm steady to stop himself from falling on her, his free hand wandered over the dips and curve of Aelin’s skin. She gasped when his fingers dipped between her legs, still sensitive from his previous ministrations.

Rowan’s lips brushed over her cheek, then the corner of her mouth and then graced her with a proper kiss. “You’re so ready for me.”

All Aelin could do was nod, arching her hips, desperate for him to fill her. Sense kicked in and she reached over to her nightstand, yanking the drawer open and pulling out a string of condoms.

“I don’t think we’ll need that many,” Rowan said.

Aelin’s snort was unattractive but she couldn’t help it. This was part of why she was falling in love with Rowan, they could be real and raw in every sense with no threat of repercussion. It now included bad jokes during sex, and Aelin didn’t mind in the very least.

“Never say never,” she replied, ripping just a single packet off. She tore it open, glancing up at Rowan. “May I?”

This time Rowan nodded, his eyelids fluttering as Aelin’s fingers smoothed the condom down the length of him. There was a moment where they just looked at each other, waiting for the other to make the final move. In the end it was Aelin, wrapping her arms around her his neck and kissing him deeply. And then something snapped.

When Rowan surged forward, his eagerness knocked his phone off the foot of the bed, plunging them into darkness. Their lips never broke apart, Aelin moaning as Rowan’s tongue swept into her mouth. She never wanted to leave this bed, not when he could make her feel this good. Rowan eventually broke the kiss, lips tickling over skin until he stopped where her neck and shoulder met. Aelin opened her eyes to near pitch blackness, all it did was heighten her other senses. Every touch felt more intense, heightened by not knowing where Rowan would be next. He kissed and sucked at her neck, distracting Aelin from his other goal. A broad hand covered her breast, fingers rolling and then pinching her nipple. The noises that escaped her lips were unrestrained and turned desperate when she felt his cock at her entrance.

Before he could push in, Aelin pressed on his shoulder, and Rowan took the hint—rolling of her so she could roll onto him. In the dregs of light coming from behind her curtains Aelin could just make out the outline of Rowan’s body, her hands smoothing over his stomach to his shoulders. His cock was hard and demanding beneath her, and she took the opportunity to tease him just a little by rolling her hips over him. Rowan’s sharp groan echoed in the quiet room and it was enough to break all of Aelin’s resolve. She reached between them, lining him up and then sinking down on him with a desperate slowness.

“Fuck, Aelin. You feel so good.”

Aelin whimpered at the praise, hips moving of their own accord. For all Rowan said—he felt just as good. From then they moved together, Rowan thrusted up and Aelin ground down on him, each movement feeling delicious and decadent. Hands travelled where they would, teasing and soothing simultaneously. The coil within Aelin wound tighter and she chased that feeling. She felt Rowan’s hand on her stomach, pressing down and then sliding up her body, between the valley of her breasts. Naively Aelin thought he would stop there to taunt and tease, but he didn’t. His palm cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over the crest of it.

“I love you,” Rowan breathed, hips flexing and driving her mad.

“Gods, Rowan.” Aelin was close, and it might be this moment of softness that pushed her over the edge. “I love you too.”

That coil snapped and Aelin cried out as pleasure broke over every nerve. Rowan was right behind her, moaning her name as he spilled himself inside her. Limbless, Aelin fell onto Rowan’s chest, her rapid breathing falling into sync with his as her body rose and fell. They lay like that for a long while, basking in each other’s closeness. Aelin truly didn’t want to let him go, it seemed too soon.

Still, she didn’t fight him as Rowan got up and retrieved his phone. He easily found the bathroom because it was the only other door besides the one he had initially walked through. Aelin made use of the time by untucking the blankets and scooting underneath them. Without Rowan’s body next to hers she was starting to feel the chill. The whole joke about body heat might actually have some truth in it. Rowan was back within moments, joining her in the plush bedding. He had barely settled when Aelin was shifting closer, pulling his arms around her. Rowan chuckled, bringing her in closer still as he settled into bed.

“Thank you for giving me a chance, Aelin,” Rowan said.

Aelin tried to be serious but she couldn’t help it. “After that I don’t know how—”

Rowan silenced her with a kiss. “Godsdamned smartass.”

They both laughed and Aelin let it be. She rested her hand over Rowan’s heart and let that steady rhythm ground her. “You’re mine now, so.”

It was quiet for a long while, until Rowan spoke again.

“This won’t be easy,” Rowan said, pressing a kiss to Aelin’s forehead.

She snuggled in a little closer, melting into Rowan’s embrace, returning his kiss to his cheek. “We’ll work it out. Together.”

At those words Rowan held her tighter. “Together.”

ONE YEAR LATER…

Aelin was in a panic. She had a plan and then that plan had gloriously failed her. What was worse is that it wasn’t just one big thing, it was a collection of lots of little things that threatened to push her over the edge. Today was meant to be perfect, it had to be perfect. It was too important not to be.

It had started with running out of flour, which Rowan was on his way out to get now. And then Aelin had stupidly not been wearing an apron and spilled sauce over the pants she had planned to wear the rest of the evening. But her biggest plunder had had to do with the semi raw turkey that she was currently staring at. Aelin’s kitchen was equipped with double ovens, which came in handy for Yulemas dinner. Or so she had thought.

Aelin had the baked cheesecake in one oven and the turkey in the other. When the cheesecake was finished cooking it needed to be rested in the oven for a bit. So Aelin had switched off the dial and let it be. That was fine, good even. But then in her flustered state Aelin had seen that the other oven was still on, got the them mixed up and turned that one off too and was quickly distracted by the boiling potatoes overflowing.

She had successfully turned both ovens off and now she was left without a main meal but a very delicious looking dessert.

Rowan found her staring down the turkey as he dropped the shopping bag on the counter. “Everything all right there?”

“If there was a power outage it would just be the icing on the cake,” Aelin said, not taking her eyes off the turkey that she was sure was mocking her.

She felt Rowan’s hand settle on her hips as he came up behind her, pressing a single kiss to her neck. “We do okay in a power outage.”

Aelin batted him away. “Not now. This is a disaster. I can’t serve raw turkey. Everyone will be here in like half an hour.”

The three people who were responsible for Aelin’s culinary demise. Rowan’s parents were bringing Ivy over from Doranelle for an early Yulemas celebration. Over the past year Rowan had worked his hardest to be part of his daughter’s life, and he had succeeded with flying colours. He was the best Dad he could be considering the circumstances. Co-parenting wasn’t easy, but Rowan had flown over as much as he could to build a connection with Ivy, and she had come to Orynth with her mother a few times to visit. So this wasn’t the first time Aelin was meeting Ivy, but it was the first time she would be formally meeting Iris and Evander Whitethorn. They had chatted over video calls, but that was it. And Yulemas was such a big event in a nearly three year old’s calendar. Aelin wanted to make a good impression but that goal was slowly slipping from her fingers.

“Why not just put it back in the oven and see how we go?” Rowan suggested. “Maybe they’ll get caught in traffic.”

Aelin sighed. “It was supposed to be perfect.”

Rowan wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her temple. “And it will be. We might just have to eat dessert first.”

A miserable sounding laugh broke out of Aelin and she twisted in her boyfriend’s arms so that she could bury her face in his soft sweater. He was right. When had anything gone to plan with them? Regardless, things always turned out right in the end.

“Maybe I should invite Fenrys over, he can pretend to be part of our throuple,” Aelin said cheekily, risking a one eyed glance up at Rowan. His features tightened, his mouth becoming a thin line. “You know just to spice things up to distract from my own failings.”

“Absolutely not,” Rowan said with a seriousness that made Aelin laugh.

“Fine, I’ll just put the turkey back in and leave it at that.”

Twenty minutes later the turkey had barely progressed and the guests had arrived. Aelin had changed out of the dirtied pants into leggings and a knitted dress and that was step one in the right direction. Ivy had burst through the door and Rowan had swept her up as his parents followed behind. The little girl was over the moon to see her dad and Aelin had a hard time denying the funny things seeing Rowan with his daughter did to her ovaries.

“Aelin,” Iris all but exclaimed, arms extended for a hug. Aelin let it happen, caught up in the genuine joy that was filling the room. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You as well,” Aelin said.

“Aelin!” Ivy said and launched herself from Rowan’s arms.

Aelin caught her, kissing her chubby cheek. “How are you? Did you have a good flight?”

“Yep! I got to watch two movies,” Ivy explained. “I get two Yulemases this year, you know?”

“I do,” Aelin replied, setting the little girl down. “How lucky are you?”

Rowan’s family were only staying for a week, they would leave a few days before actual Yulemas so Ivy could spend that with her mother. Rowan had come a long way with his ex, Lyria, but Ivy spending a major holiday away from her mother was still out of the question.

“Evan, how are you?” Aelin said as she kissed his cheek.

Evan smiled, holding up the bags he carried. “Pack mule, as always.”

“Oh hush, you,” Iris admonished.

“Presents!” Ivy said, eyes catching on the wrapped gifts under the tree.

“Not until after dinner,” Iris said quickly.

Aelin’s gut sank. “Well about that…”

She divulged the whole story, and by the end her cheeks were red from embarrassment.

“Just dessert and no dinner?” Ivy deduced, her green eyes hopeful.

“Well, no,” Rowan cut in. “It just looks like we’ll have dessert first. Dinner is still on the menu.”

Regardless of that clarification Ivy cheered, making all the adults laugh. Despite the imperfections the evening ended up being a success. They started with dessert, then presents and then dinner afterwards. Too distracted by toys and full of ice cream, Ivy barely touched her plate, but everyone else only had good things to say about the haphazardous meal. Rowan’s parents were lovely, and meeting them in person wasn’t the feat that Aelin expected it to be at all. It was late when they said goodbye, heading back to their nearby hotel for the evening. There was only one spare bedroom at Aelin’s house and it was furnished with a single bed, so comfort wise it made more sense for them to stay elsewhere.

Aelin was tucked into bed when Rowan came out of the bathroom, dressed in the Yulemas pyjamas Ivy had gifted him. They were ridiculous, garish gingerbread men all over them, but Rowan wore them with pride. He slipped into bed beside her, not waiting to pull Aelin into his arms.

“Was that as much of a disaster as you thought it would be?” He asked.

Aelin shook her head. “No. Still pissed about the turkey though.”

Rowan chuckled, his breath tickling her hair. “I think tonight was perfect.”

“Even if Ivy ate zero vegetables?” Aelin peered up at Rowan to wait for her answer.

“Hey, it’s Yulemas. We’ll let it slide.”

Aelin was grinning when she settled into Rowan’s arms. They were silent for a long while and she even thought Rowan had gone to sleep until he spoke.

“Thank you,” he said into the quiet dark of the room, “for giving me a chance to prove myself and fix my mistakes. I couldn’t have done all that I’ve done over the past year without you.”

Aelin held onto Rowan tighter, thinking about everything that had brought them to this moment. They weren’t perfect, mistakes were made and there would be countless more in their future. But that didn’t matter, not as long as they had each other. They could face anything in the world as long as they were together.

So Aelin was smiling as she said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I haven't had the time to fiddle with taglist yet. It's on my list of things to do

#rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #it is very late but i think its worth the wait

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