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highvern · 4 months

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Teach Me VI

Final

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM]

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings.

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish.

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible.

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount.

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin.

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh.

You hate it.

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him.

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions.

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor.

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available.

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions.

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things.

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number.

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to.

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers.

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom.

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them.

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much.

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!”

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back.

“Sorry, let me help you.”

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet. “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk.

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting.

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up.

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain.

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous.

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea.

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown.

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes.

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know?

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend.

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together.

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms.

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?”

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

—

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room.

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks.

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution.

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh.

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively.

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you.

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe.

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you.

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession.

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?”

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all.

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze.

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.”

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #🫡 highvern

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ladykailitha · 3 months

Text

Staking My Claim Part 3

Hey, guys! We're back!

Part 1 Part 2

We finally get the lowdown on what happened. Otherwise known as don't mess with Jeff.

Robin freaks out.

And Gareth is loaded. Or at least his parents are. ;)

I'm also going to try tagging the untaggables separate and see if you can't get you lovelies tagged.

@redfreckledwolf, @mira-jadeamethyst, @itsall-taken, @emly03, @rozzieroos

***

He hurried over to the phone and called Family Video.

“Hello, thank you for calling Family Video,” the soft female voice said. “How can I help you?”

“Robin!” he cried again. “I’m so sorry!”

“Steve!” Robin shrieked. “Where have you been? Are you okay? You’re not in the hospital or jail are you? What happened?”

“I’m not in jail or the hospital,” he assured her. Eddie huffed out a laugh. He whirled around to stick his tongue out at him. “I’m okay. I’m still in Indy. I just landed at some friendly metalheads’ apartment.”

“Wait...” Robin said. “Those friendly metalheads wouldn’t happen to include one Eddie Munson, would it?”

Steve looked over at said metalhead and turned away to hide his blush. “Maybe,” he mumbled into the phone.

“Hell yeah!” she crowed. “Now tell me what happened now!”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Um...to be honest...I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what happened last night. Like I remember bits and pieces, but it all kinda blurs together.”

Eddie walked over and pointed to the phone. “May I?”

Steve nodded and hand it to him.

“Robin?” Eddie asked. “This is Eddie Munson.”

“Hello, Eddie,” she said coolly. “Would you like to explain why my best friend isn’t, I don’t know, home?”

“I would love you to tell you that story if it’s okay with Steve finding out by me telling you?” Eddie questioned, looking over at Steve.

He shrugged and waved his hand for him to go ahead.

“He’s says it’s fine,” Eddie said.

“Noted,” Robin said. “Now spill.”

So Eddie did. He told her about the sleazeball at the bar who wouldn’t take no for an answer. About his daring rescue of pretending to be his boyfriend.

Steve blushed when he heard Robin go, “Awww,” at that.

Eddie grinned at him. Then he launched into the actual fucking rescue. It turned out that Mr. Persistent bumped into Steve to lace his drink with a drug to knock him out.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “He did what now?”

Eddie hummed. “Yeah...it was this whole thing. Jeff even got to punch the guy in the nose. I think the bartender has a crush on him now.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. The bartender was a thirty something Asian dude with tattoos and piercings. But he supposed it made sense, considering the bar’s general attitude toward that specific portion of the population.

“At least he’ll get free drinks for life, right?” Robin said with a chuckle.

“That’s certainly one way to look at it,” Eddie agreed. “So yeah, this dude bumps into Steve and suddenly our friend is getting tipsy, fast. And I’ve been at many a rager to ply my wares, there was no way Keg King Steve was drunk after two beers, a margarita, and a half of a Cosmo.” The half a Cosmo was from sharing with Gareth.

Steve blushed. He wasn’t proud of those wild days in high school, but it probably saved his life in this case.

“Yeah...” Robin agreed. “I’ve seen him drink men under the table who were bigger and had been drinking longer.”

Eddie nodded even though she couldn’t seen him, but Steve could.

“Then the asshole comes over and starts flirting with Steve again, trying to draw him away,” he continued. “That’s when we really got that Steve wasn’t acting normal. So Brian steps in and tells asshole to leave him alone. But this guy has gone past persistent and into full creep territory.”

“Eww...” Robin hissed. “How did Jeff get his punch in?”

Eddie chuckled. “That’s honestly the best part, so Brian and Gareth take Steve out to my van and I go and get the bouncer. We come back and asshole is trying to get past Jeff to make his escape. So he takes a swing at Jeffy.”

“Bad idea, I’m guessing?” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice.

Steve tilted his head in interest and Eddie fought down a smile.

“Jeff’s dad is a former boxer who taught him how to fight to make the bullies leave him alone.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and Robin said, “Oooh. Please tell me he laid this asshole out! Please!”

“Dude stiffened like a board and went straight down,” Eddie confirmed. “The only downside is that they couldn’t prove anything, so he just got tossed out, but make no mistake, they’ll make sure spread the word around the other gay bars about this guy.”

“That’s good,” Robin agreed.

Steve wandered back over to his food, safe in the knowledge that he was in safe hands.

Jeff and Brian were at the counter grabbing their breakfast so Steve joined them. Coffee was was doled out by Eddie a few moments later.

Creamer, milk, and sugar were placed next to the coffee pot.

“Robin says not worry about coming into work,” Eddie murmured to Steve. “She said she would tell Keith you have the stomach flu. Which according to her will get you at least three days off.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Brian said. “I don’t think there is anything I could tell my boss short of being in the hospital that would get me even a couple of hours off.”

Steve laughed. “Keith has a weak stomach. You just mention vomiting and the dude turns green.”

“Handy that,” Eddie said with a smile.

“It’s very handy when you’re out drinking and drink too much,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I’ll say,” Jeff said. “I’m just glad we were there, man.”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, me too.”

He dug into his food and was happy to note that while it didn’t necessarily ease the queasiness in his stomach, it didn’t make him want to throw it all back up, either.

He cleared his plate.

“So this is what’s going to happen, Stevie,” Eddie said as he cleaned up the pans from breakfast, “you are going to stay here until I am sure one hundred percent that you won’t throw up on the three hour journey back to Hawkins.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn’t. Right now nothing was coming up, but put him in a moving vehicle and he couldn’t say for sure that breakfast wouldn’t come right back up.

He nodded.

“I gave Robin the address so she’ll be stopping by after she gets off work,” Eddie continued. “I recommend that you get so actual rest, she seems like she’s a lot without her worrying about you, I can only imagine what she’s like when she is.”

Steve blushed.

“We’re going to all stay here,” Gareth said. “At least for one more day. I talked to my mom about it and she would rather pay more for utilities this month then worry about Steve getting worse.”

The other boys nodded their agreement, while Steve blinked at him in confusion.

“What now?”

“You do realize I live in Loch Nora, right?” Gareth asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve shook his head. “My parents were very much exclusionists, dude. I only got to hang out with people that they deemed acceptable. Nicole, Carol, Tommy H. If they thought they weren’t in the right trade or held more liberal views, they weren’t worthy to interact with their son.”

Gareth blinked. “Fuck, that must have been lonely.”

He ducked his head and half shrugged.

“Anyway,” Gareth continued into the now deafening silence. “They pay for this apartment in the city for when we play gigs or need a place to crash after a night of drinking.”

Steve frowned. “You’re not eighteen yet, though, right?”

“No,” Gareth said with a laugh. “But my parents trust these guys to keep me safe.”

Steve thought about Dustin and his mom. That despite all the things that Steve had gotten up to in his high school career that she still trusted him to take care of her baby.

“Yeah,” he said fondly. “I can see that.”

Eddie came over to the other side of the counter. “Come on, up you get. You’ll be sleeping in my room.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “How many rooms does this place have?”

“Three,” Jeff said. “Brian shares with Gareth, but Eddie and I get our own rooms.”

“That’s because you’re both sluts,” Brian said rolling his eyes, “and me and Gareth don’t want to be kicked out of our rooms when you bring someone home.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

“I’ll give you the tour when I steer you back to my room,” Eddie promised.

Steve nodded and allowed himself to be lead back through the apartment and back to the bedroom.

Eddie tucked him back in and put a garbage can next to the bed. “I’ll be out in the front room, holler if you need me.”

Steve nodded and let himself drift off to sleep.

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Yeah, I'm sorry, I doubt even a middle class family would buy their very young son (if we hold to the belief that Gareth is OG drummer and was in the talent show with Eddie and Chrissy, putting Eddie in 8th grade, Chrissy in 6th, that would make Gareth in 5th grade) a drum kit.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @r0binscript @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @f0xxyb0xxes @lublix @breealtair @croatoan-like-its-hot @confuseddisastertm @dissociatingdemon @sleepdeprivedflower @thedragonsaunt @jamieweasley13 @hellfireone @dragonmama76

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #corroded coffin #tw under age drinking

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megvmins · 1 year

Text

moments with wind breaker men

some bf headcanons with my fav troublemakers.

includes: vinny, jay, dom, owen, joker

warnings: suggestive

author's note: I fell in love again and I need to share my Wind Breaker headcanons with the world. I wanted to add more but I might just do part 2 for the rest of the boys. likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 🫶

VINNY: it's notoriously well-known that waking up sleeping Vinny is impossible unless he can smell something delicious or hear people talking about food. that being sad, it is also absolutely impossible to get out of his embrace in the morning. arms hugging your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head and your legs intertwined, there is nowhere for you to go. once Vinny actually wakes up, he plants a soft kiss on the top of your head (but if you mention him doing that he will deny it like his life depends on it) and only then will he let go. your favorite past-time has to be annoying him because his reactions are always priceless. for example when you two are brushing your teeth side by side and you end up pulling faces looking at him through the mirror. it's all worth it just to see him almost spit out his toothpaste and throw you a death glare that softens into a loving eye-roll.

JAY: cooking with Jay is one of your favorite moments. if you weren't a good cook, Jay is the perfect teacher thanks to his patience, so even if you mess up he wouldn't get angry (but he might make the cutest puzzled expressions over the possible catastrophes you manage to create while working on a fairly straightforward beginner friendly recipe). those puppy-like faces just make u wanna smooch him and he definitely doesn't mind. that being said, he is frustratingly proper and won't just ditch the cooking for a make-out session (his mind is definitely running with ideas but his self-control is something to behold, unfortunately). he will just resume cooking, this time standing right behind you and guiding you through your second attempt. just know he knows what he's doing and that you did not learn anything while he was in such a close proximity and all you could think about was how nice it feels to be in his arms and that his shampoo smells amazing.

DOM: everyone knows that Dom got really passionate about biking and now his mind is literally filled with it and nothing else. but exams are coming up and he is in great need of intervention to not repeat the year again. you'd think helping him study would be pretty straightforward but it's definitely not. half the time you just find him gazing at you with heart eyes and content smile. sometimes it's necessary to just bonk his head with your textbook to bring him back to earth. but can you blame him? he is just really curious about the new chapstick he saw you use. so to motivate him to study you have to bet something on the line and suddenly he is back to being the Mr. Passionate everyone knows him to be. it only takes the promise of a few kisses and his motivation is back in overdrive.

OWEN: Owen is great at distracting you. if you are having a tough time or just need to do something to forget about your troubles for a bit, he is the best person to go to. he's going to search up places to take you to – pretty cafes that are absolutely instagram worth and shopping trip that will make your feet hurt and your closet overflow because he will not hold back. if he sees your gaze linger on something he is pushing it into your arms to try it. it's definitely not just a treat for you, don't be mistaken. he loves seeing you show off the items and bonus points if you need him to help you zip something up. he plays it all cool and suave but his fingers are shaking a little bit, he takes his sweet time with it and then he makes sure to send you a naughty smile with a compliment that makes you weak in the knees.

JOKER: Joker isn't really a fan of having you attend his underground fights. it makes him uneasy, thinking he will scare you away and that you might be used against him if someone decides to look for his weakness. that doesn't stop you from showing up anyway and patching him up. at this point you are both used to this silent dance of you cleaning his cuts and cooling down his soon-to-be-bruises. when you finish up, he brings you closer between his thighs and hugs your midriff since he is usually sitting down before you and rests his head on your chest/stomach listening to your calming heartbeat. before he let's go he whispers soft “thanks.” and offers a faint barely there smile that somehow still manages to make your heart skip a beat.

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #jay jo #jay jo x reader #dom kang #dom kang x reader #owen knight #owen knight x reader #joker #joker x reader #wind breaker joker x reader #wind breaker headcanons #moon writes

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)

author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.

word count: 5.6k

Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.

But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.

“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”

Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.

He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.

“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”

You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.

“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.

“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”

You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.

It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.

And so what if you were?

“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”

“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.

There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.

Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.

The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.

But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.

There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.

The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.

“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.

“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”

Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.

“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“

“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.

“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”

“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”

“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”

“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”

The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.

Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.

You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”

He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.

You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.

“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”

“No bars? No clubs?”

“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”

“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”

And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.

And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.

He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.

“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”

It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.

You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.

“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”

Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.

“How come?” He asks curiously.

“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”

Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.

“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.

“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”

“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.

“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”

“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”

Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.

“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”

He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”

He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?

“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.

The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.

“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”

Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.

“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”

You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.

“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.

It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.

His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.

It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.

“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”

He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.

Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.

At least one thing has gone right for him.

“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.

“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.

“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”

“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.

You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.

“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.

Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.

You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“

“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.

There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.

You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.

“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.

They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.

Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”

You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.

“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”

And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.

“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”

The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.

“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.

A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”

“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.

“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.

And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.

You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.

His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”

You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”

Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”

“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”

His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.

It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.

He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”

“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“

“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”

You nod, affirming his statement.

“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”

And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.

You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.

It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.

“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.

He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”

He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.

“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”

He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.

You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.

You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.

“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.

“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.

“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.

“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.

It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.

“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”

You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.

It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.

“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest

“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“

“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”

Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.

And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.

“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”

You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”

You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.

“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.

And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.

You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.

You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.

“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”

“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”

Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.

“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”

You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.

“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.

“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”

“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”

Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.

“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.

“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.

And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.

“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”

And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing #1kfic

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yuenieve · 2 years

Text

a friendly exchange [k.ayato]

feat. single dad! kamisato ayato, elementary school teacher! female reader.

content warning: modern!au, smut with plot lol, more plot than smut tbh, rich CEO ayato, elementary school teacher reader, dilf/teacher, corruption kink, he’s a tease lmao, dacryphilia(?), doggy, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mating press, bulge kink, pet names (angel, love, darling, girl, precious), he says mommy once, praise(?), he’s kinda a mean dom in the end, fem!reader.

word count: too many to count.

notes: i finished this at 4 am rip sorry for any mistakes lol

nsfw content under the cut!

There wasn’t a pair of ears who haven’t heard of the name Kamisato Ayato. Everyone and their neighbor’s dog have heard some mention of the blue-haired business man. As head of the nation’s leading corporation, Kamisato Ayato was quite the figurative icon.

Figurative more than icon. Because although the well-known CEO has had his name plastered on every nook and cranny of the city, he rarely made a public appearance.

Despite his fame and recognition, you only knew 2 things about him:

1) He is a wealthy and important man. His business, Kamisato Enterprise, oversees many—if not all—work fields in the country, including education. Heck, half his daily income could cover your yearly salary.

2) His son is your student.

Kamisato Akihiko was an intelligent and reserved 1st grader in your class. What he lacked in boisterous banter, he made up in chivalrous charm. You often caught him nose buried in a hardcover book, instead of being with the bustling children on the playground during recess.

Akihiko was a model child, you knew that.

But why were you so nervous to meet his father on parent-teacher day?

Maybe it’s because you knew nothing about his personal life, or because you’ve never seen the mysterious man. Your colleagues at the front office told you his wife showed up for all school events related to Akihiko, but never him. However, by some stroke of luck, Ayato himself RSVP’d for the parent-teacher meeting today.

Swallowing down a nervous gulp, you stood by your classroom door and called out Akihiko’s name. You walked back to your desk, arranging the stack of papers for the nth time.

You heard a knock, “Excuse me?”

His voice was handsomely husky, you noted. Turning around, you came face to face with what you would have assumed to be a relic of a Greek god.

His tall stature and broad shoulders had your eyes wandering. His defined arms looked so incredibly attractive despite being hidden under his suit jacket. He ran a hand through his lilac locks and smiled politely.

“Mr Kamisato…welcome,” You greeted, finally meeting his eyes.

Get a grip, he’s a married man!! I shouldn’t have thought of that, please forgive me…

“Thank you for having me, miss L/n.”

You exchanged the friendly smile and gestured towards one of the desks, “Please, have a seat.”

He sat down and took his expensive black gloves off, you mentally cursed yourself for finding the action effortlessly enticing. You cleared your throat and handed him the papers.

“Akihiko is a wonderful student, these are his assignments and tests.” Ayato went through them and nodded along,

“He’s performing exceptionally well, as you can see. Some of our head teachers are even recommending he skip a few grades.”

Ayato hummed and held his chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “I see…but what do you think?”

“Huh?” You stuttered, not expecting the question.

“What those head teachers say do not concern me. You are Akihiko’s teacher, so you know him best. What do you think? Should he skip a few grades?”

You leaned back against your desk and contemplated the matter. Albeit the little boy truly was clever, you felt hesitant about the decision.

“In all honesty, Mr Kamisato…I don’t think he should,” you answered.

Ayato gave you a knowing look to go on.

“I don’t mean to say your son is incapable of undergoing a higher level workload, but…he’s still a child. The beginning years of elementary school are not meant for academic woes. Akihiko should spend these years exploring his interests, making friends and having fun. He should…be a kid.”

The corner of Ayato’s lips tugged upwards and he nodded, “I wholly agree with you.”

You smiled and turned around to fetch the attendance sheet. Unbeknownst to you, Ayato was gazing at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“If you could just sign here, and if you have any further questions about your son’s performance, I am more than happy to oblige.” You told him.

He sighed and signed the paper, “No, that’s all.” He paused to look into your eyes, “I’m happy you’re Akihiko’s teacher.”

You shyly looked down and smiled as you received the papers back from him.

“I—uhh wasn’t expecting you here, Mr Kamisato. I’ve been told your wife comes to all school events.”

He arched a brow in confusion, “Wife?”

You blinked, “Y-yeah, I believe her name was Kamisato Ayaka…?”

“Ah,” the realization dawned on him, “I think you’ve misunderstood; that’s my sister.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry—!“

“No, no, it’s quite alright.” He assured with a gentle smile. “I don’t have a wife.”

“Oh…”

“My ex wife left when Akihiko was 3.”

You opened your mouth then closed it, unsure of what to respond with. Ayato noticed your predicament and simply waved his hands dismissively, “It’s fine, it happened a long time ago. I’m sure she’s more than fine with my ex business partner now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You murmured, sympathetically.

Ayato stared at you. Despite discussing the misfortunate matter at hand, he seemed to focus on you alone. You looked absolutely iridescent in his eyes, he couldn’t help but take a fleeting glance at your lips.

He shook his head and peered at the clock, “My apologies, but I must be going now.”

You nodded as he rose from his seat, “Of course, thank you for coming today.”

He put his gloves back on and extended his hand out, “It was a pleasure meeting you, miss L/n.”

“Likewise, Mr Kamisato.”

He gave you a soft smile before departing from the classroom. Once he was gone, you sighed and walked back to your desk. You stared at his name on the sheet, your mind wandering.

3) He is very handsome.

“Excuse me, miss L/n?”

You peeked down from your desk and spotted Akihiko standing with a bouquet of flowers clearly too big for his 6-year-old hands to carry.

You quickly ushered him to come around the desk and held onto the flower arrangement for him, “What’s this, Akihiko?”

“My dad told me to give it to you, it’s for Mother’s Day.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you feigned a cough to hide your flustered face.

“Th-that’s so kind of you two, thank you very much, Akihiko.” You patted the boy’s hair and smiled.

Just then, the last bell rang and the erupt sound of children filled the hallways.

You looked down at Akihiko, “You should be heading out now, I’ll see you on Monday. Please thank your father for the flowers.”

He nodded and began to make his way out the classroom, before abruptly stopping by the door.

You tilted your head, “What’s the matter?”

He slowly turned around, his eyes downcast on his shoes. “Miss L/n? Can you do something for me?”

“Of course, Akihiko. What is it?”

He bashfully played with the hem of his shirt, “Well, my dad always says you’re like a mother to me. He says teachers are our second parents.”

You made a sound of amusement, “Your father is correct.”

“If he is, then…can you participate with me in today’s Mother’s Day card contest?”

Your lips parted, that was the last thing you were expecting him to ask. You felt touched to be in this position, and it warmed your heart to know Akihiko felt comfortable enough with you to ask.

“I’d love to help you make a Mother’s Day card.”

Ayato had been standing by the school entrance for what felt like half an hour now. Usually, he’d send one of his assistants to pick Akihiko up. But since his schedule spontaneously cleared up for the day, he decided to come himself.

Checking his watch for the hundredth time that afternoon, Ayato decided to go inside and assess the situation. The hallways were scarce until he saw children accompanied by their parents in the courtyard.

He saw dozens of tables and chairs folded out, occupied by little kids and mainly their mothers. The scattered piles of paper and other arts and crafts supplies on the ground was enough to tell him what was going on.

Eventually, he spotted his son with you at one of the tables. He made his way over, a smile crossing his face at the sight of both your joyful expressions.

“Dad!!”

Before Ayato knew it, he felt the force of his son’s hug. His short arms trying to go around his father’s hips. You smiled at the display, admiring the little family.

“Someone forgot to come back to the car,” Ayato teased, picking his son up easily and holding him against his shoulder.

“Sorry, dad. I asked miss L/n to be my mom for the contest!” Akihiko said. You felt your face heat up at the given title, but Ayato found your reaction adorable.

Ah, he really wanted to ruin you.

“I see. Well, I’m happy you asked her. She makes quite the mom, don’t you agree?” At this point, Ayato was purposely saying it to fluster you.

“Akihiko, I think they’re starting now. You can go over there,” you mentioned, diverting the topic.

Ayato lowered Akihiko down, letting him run towards the center with the other kids.

“Thank you for the flowers, by the way.” You brought up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Ayato smiled, “You’re most welcome, miss L/n.”

He started clapping as they began to announce the winners of the card contest. But your gaze remained on him, did he always have that pretty mole? It was so close to his lips…if only you could…

“Y/n.”

“Hm?” He turned to you.

“Y/n. You can call me Y/n,” you said.

His smile only grew wider, having to bite down on his lip to contain himself. “In that case, you may call me Ayato.”

You hummed, repeating it, “Ayato…”

“Ayato!! Fuck—!!”

You can’t recall exactly how you ended up with your ass in the air and your face pressed against Ayato’s bed.

After a couple weeks spent chatting during pick up duty, and consequently, after exchanging numbers, Ayato and you grew closer. Until tonight, where he had invited you over for dinner.

One thing lead to another, the same way he lead you to his bedroom, and now you found yourself whining his name as you writhed against the sheets.

“Well isn’t this a surprise? I didn’t expect you to have such a dirty mouth.” He remarked, slamming into your tight cunt even harder.

You moaned loudly, you were grateful that Akihiko was away at his aunt’s house for the weekend.

“Ayato…please…” You squirmed, pathetically. He pulled out and you keened at the sudden empty feeling.

He flipped you over so that you were laying on your back and he could have a good look at your pretty, tear-stricken face. His hands were placed on either side of your head, his strong arms supporting his weight.

“Please what? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.” He said, leaning in closer. His breath tickled your skin as he left feather light kisses on your chest.

“Please…fuck me,” you whined.

He chuckled, “Aren’t I fucking you right now, angel? Are you saying I’m doing a bad job?”

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down against you. You felt his tip nudging against your folds and you whimpered at the slight friction.

“Please, breed me. ‘Want you inside, wanna feel it inside.”

His dick throbbed at your words. If he had no self control, he would have ruined you right this second. He won’t deny, he was hoping you’d say that, hoping you felt the same way he did.

He raised himself up, “Is that it, angel? You want me to knock you up?”

You nodded, feverishly. He smirked and slowly lowered his head to your pussy. He placed a long, wet kiss against your clit, making you buck your hips up sporadically.

He chuckled again, pulling away. “Don’t worry, love,” he said, finally pushing himself in you, “I’ll make you a mommy.”

Your hands instinctively reached out to his shoulders, grabbing onto them to steady yourself as he bottomed out.

Slowly, he began pumping himself in and out of your sloppy cunt. Your past round making it easier for him to slip between your folds.

The sound of skin slapping skin began to fill the room, his thrusts growing harsher and faster. He took one of your hands that were hooked on his shoulder and held onto it as he leaned down.

“Do you feel that?” He whispered, deeply into your ear, guiding your hand towards the noticeable bulge in your abdomen. “Do you feel me inside you?”

“Ayato,” you cried out, he felt you tighten around his length.

“Oh? Does my naughty girl enjoy these lewd things?” He smiled and hoisted your legs up to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to reach even deeper within you.

“Ah! Ayato, r-right there!” You moaned, feeling the knot inside your stomach begin to form.

He practically folded you in half by now, his pelvis hitting your clit with every rut of his hips. He groaned, “You feel so good, precious.”

“A-ayato, ‘m close!!”

His hand met your clit and he started to rub it fervently, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Don’t you want to give Akihiko a sibling?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you continued to babble nonsensically, feeling your sweet high approaching.

By the way Ayato’s thrusts were getting sloppier and out of rhythm, you could tell he was close too. The sound of his choked grunts also pushed you further off the edge.

With a cry of his name, your climax finally crashed as you came all over him. A white ring of your slick painted on the base of his cock.

Ayato threw his head back, panting heavily, “I’m—fuck—‘gonna cum.”

You were prepared to feel his warm seed fill your pussy up, but instead, he pulled out and stroked his length once, twice and came all over your stomach.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, you were clearly unsatisfied. You whined and squirmed beneath him, “Ayato, why’d you—“

He held your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You sniffled and he wiped your stray tears away. He repositioned himself at your entrance, steadily rocking his hips again, making you hiss from how sensitive you were.

“If you want me to fill you up, you’ll have to work a lot harder than that, darling.”

written by yuenieve.

3K notes · View notes

loliwrites · 5 months

Text

The One You Need | two

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset, past relationships, men vs boys, sexual tension, dubcon [tagging to be safe] [slight alcohol consumption but neither is drunk], verbal consent received, reader described as female, no other physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.1k part one | joel miller masterlist a/n: i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. & tagging @hausofobsession because charlie's the best

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It had been three and a half weeks since move in day and a few things had become abundantly clear about your new surroundings.

1. Having your own place rocked. You did what you wanted. You answered to no one. If you wanted to have a one person dance party at two in the morning, you did. No downstairs neighbors hollered and banged on their ceiling – your floor. You could paint the walls whatever color you wanted and tear up the flooring if you had the impulse to. Nothing ever again had to be “renter friendly” .

2. Having your own place was a lot of work. There were any number of things that seemed to break, leak, or hang crooked on any given day and instead of ringing up a landlord and complaining, you could only complain to yourself… And then figure out how to fix the broken, leaky, or wonky thing. And it boggled your mind how dust and grime seemed to manifest out of nothingness. Rooms you don’t even remember stepping foot into had somehow acquired a thin film of dust. You were constantly cleaning something or fixing something, and in the most unfortunate of times, your cleaning of something resulted in you also needing to fix it. If anything, owning a home had reinforced to you that you were indeed the man in your life.

3. Joel Miller was practically the mayor of the neighborhood. Everyone knew him. It was impossible to spend any amount of time in the yard and not be bombarded with Joel Miller, Joel Miller, Joel Miller. While he wasn’t particularly outgoing, he seemed to be there when someone needed help. Whether it was Mrs. Cole with her grocery bags or the young, single mother next door to him who needed someone to put her son’s basketball hoop together. He was an everyman. And though he had helped you in a big way on your first day as part of the neighborhood, you’d spent the past few weeks dodging him as much as possible.

4. And lastly, you needed his help again. At some point during the week, a foul odor had wafted through the entirety of your home. And short of thinking an animal had crawled up and died within the walls, you began scouring the house with as much disinfectant as your sense of smell would allow. Every inch of every room was scrubbed down, and when that still didn’t get rid of the odor, you figured it was time to call an exterminator. Dehydrated, hungry, and about to snap, you opened the refrigerator and was punched in the face by warm, smelly air that burned your nose more than the disinfectant. Ah, the source.

How long the fridge hadn’t been working, you didn’t know. What you did know was that all the perishables – namely the dairy products – had certainly perished. And after three hours on the phone with a local handyman you’d found online, his ultimate advice was, “get a new refrigerator”. On a normal day, that was easily said and done. You would’ve ordered one the same day and gotten it delivered the next. Only, you’d spent the week prior throwing an obscene amount of money at new furniture to fill the oodles and oodles of empty space you now found yourself inhabiting.

You had genuinely thought about asking Joel for help that same day. At least to get the fridge out of the house because you were sure the smell wouldn’t leave until the entire appliance did. But when you looked out your window, his truck wasn’t in his driveway. And it didn’t arrive back until late that night. There was no way you were going to burden him so late, so you cracked some windows and told yourself you’d ask him in the morning. But the next morning when you Houdini’d yourself out of bed and made a pot of coffee, his truck was already out of the driveway again. An hour and a half later of throwing everything out and deep cleaning it, the fridge didn’t nearly smell as bad. And after a while, you kind of just let it be.

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Saturday. A day of rest. Except you were standing on Joel’s porch, curling your hand into a fist to rap your knuckles against his door, about to ask him to do a little work. A shred of guilt was growing inside of you. Yes, he had said to reach out if you needed something. He’d been nothing but neighborly. But you knew what you were doing. The thing where you use a boy for your gain but have nothing to offer in return.

Joel opened his front door, breathing a little heavier than normal with a sheen of sweat over his face and down his neck. He appeared to be completely clothed, but whether or not you’d caught him in a state of undress and he threw this on, you had no idea. From what you’d observed by peeking out your front window, the single mother that lived next door to him seemed to have a little bit of a crush. Perhaps that crush was reciprocated on his end.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You squinted your eyes shut and partially shielded them with your hand.

“What?” He looked down at himself, tugging on his shirt, “no, I just got in from doing yard work out back.” Joel took a deep breath and slowly let it exhale. He remembered when he could be working hard all day and not even feel it. Now there were days when he went up the stairs in his house and got winded. “How ya’ doin?”

“Good, I… I need your help again,”

Joel grinned, something cheeky that you wanted to slap right off his face.

“Don’t look too excited about it. My fridge is on the fritz and it’s too heavy for me to move,”

There was a part of him that wanted to bring to attention that this was the second time in less than a month that you were coming to him for help. Ultimately he thought better of it. The hard line of your lips and narrowness of your eyes clued him in that you were waiting to rebuke anything he might say. Instead he disappeared from the doorway, leaving you utterly confused, only to return a minute later with an old metal toolbox in hand. He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind him.

“No, it’s not getting fixed. I’m getting a new one,”

He quirked his eyebrows and looked down at you, “that fridge is only three years old.” He stepped off his porch and started toward your house.

You took a few quick steps to catch up with him, falling in line and then keeping up that pace to stay even with him. It did look like a fairly modern make. “How do you know that?”

“‘Cause I helped Mrs. Wilson get it in her house three years ago. I’d told her to get that fridge because I knew it’d last. Now unless you or Mrs. Wilson did something on it that it’s not meant for, it should still be perfectly fine.”

“What’re you implying?”

Joel shot a wink in your direction, “you have any male suitors over lately? Get a little frisky in the kitchen over dinner?”

Your jaw dropped as you followed Joel up your porch steps. “No! You can see my house from your house. You know I haven’t had anyone over,”

“I don’t spy on my neighbors.” He walked through your door after you’d opened it for him, “are you spyin’ on me?”

“No, I’m not,” you protested, leading him into the kitchen and directing him toward the problem appliance. “But I do know that next-door neighbor of yours, fancies you,”

“Fancies me?”

“Mhm. She twirls her hair every time she talks to you,”

Joel set the toolbox down on the counter and angled his body at the fridge, “does she now?” He wrapped his arms around it, fingers gripping to the sides, and began to shimmy the entire thing out from its little cubbyhole.

The whole display was rather impressive. Despite actively not yearning or searching for a relationship, acts of masculinity did get you going. It was the double-edged sword that lived inside you. Boys – can’t live with them; can’t live without them. Just because you couldn’t rely on men, didn’t mean the desire to sleep with them wasn’t there. But even you knew, that under no circumstances, were you to sleep or have any sort of sexual contact with Joel Miller. Even if he was a rugged display of masculinity. With sinewy muscles that strained beneath his skin when he flexed them. And fingers that surely knew how to wrap around more than just the handle end of a hammer. He was your neighbor. You weren’t going to shit where you ate. But by God if he didn’t look like a delicious meal.

It’s the reason you picked up so quickly on the tell-tale signs of attraction by Little Miss Next Door Neighbor. She was looking at him the way all women did when they wanted to be swept up by a man. They wanted to be handled, and led, and submissive. Something you could never be. To a man? Absolutely not.

This argument you were having with no one but yourself was interrupted when Joel called your name with a tone that indicated to you it wasn’t the first or second time he was calling it. You blinked and focused your eyes, finding he was only partially visible – most of him being shrouded by the fridge that he now stood behind.

“S’not working because it’s dirty. Do you have a handheld vacuum?”

Approaching him, you contorted your body around it to sneak a peek at what he was looking at. “It stopped working because it’s dirty?”

“Could be somethin’ faulty inside, but the condenser coils and gasket seals are a mess. My guess is it’s just that,”

“I called some handyman and he told me I needed a brand new fridge,”

Joel peeked his head out to look at you, “why you callin’ some random handyman when you got one ‘cross the street?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I was going to but you worked weird hours this week and were never home when I looked out my window.”

“So you are spying on me,” he chuckled. “That’s why you’re jealous of Kelly,”

“Who’s jealous?!” It wasn’t lost on you that your voice rose about an octave or two higher than your normal register. You were sure Joel clocked that, too. “I’m just making sure you know she’s got a big ol’ schoolgirl crush on you,”

“She doesn’t ‘cause we’ve gone out before and it wasn’t a match.”

“Does she know that?”

“I’d say she does,”

You smirked, having a little fun poking the bear. “How do you know?”

“Because when a woman gets naked and propositions a man for sex, and he says no, it’s usually a pretty definitive sign.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed incredulously, “no man looks at a woman who’s ready to fuck and says no to her.”

“This man does,” he looked you dead in the eyes and held your gaze. “You got a vacuum?”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The resoluteness of Joel’s answer had honestly come as a shock. It was something you knew you’d want to circle back on at some point simply because of how insane it seemed. A straight guy turning down sex from a woman? He had to have been the first man in history to do so. The thought kept you busy while your refrigerator kept him busy. Coincidentally, you both became significantly less busy around the same time.

“It works again?”

Joel plugged the fridge back into the wall and stepped out from behind it. He wiped his hands in a rag you’d brought out for him, which just happened to be one of your old, white t-shirts. He didn’t seem to care. Or notice. “Gotta give it a few minutes. See if it’s gettin’ cold,'' he looked up at you, noting how you began to get a little more fidgety, looking around. He wasn’t sure why; perhaps just itching to get him out of your house. “You got any food for dinner?”

“Yeah,” you said half-heartedly, thinking about how you were about to endure yet another day of some sad, canned soup. “I can whip up a can of something,”

He shook his head and waved you off, “come by tonight. I’ll fix you a meal,”

“You just fixed my fridge.”

“Maybe,” he smiled.

“I should be cooking you a meal,”

He shook his head vehemently, “I haven’t eaten chicken noodle soup since I was about nine, and I don’t aim to start up again.” He pulled open the fridge door, set his hands on one of the shelves and decided it was slightly colder than it had been just a couple minutes prior. “It should be good to go now,” he loaded up his toolbox and locked it up. “Swing by around seven. If you stand me up, I’m coming back over here and breaking the damn thing,”

“Joel,”

“Seven.”

With that, he was out before you could protest again. Somehow both of you knew you’d be showing up to his house that night. Annoyance bubbled up at your surface with the realization that not only did you know you weren’t going to disobey him, but he knew it too. The few hours between him leaving and you showing back up on his porch for dinner had been spent sulking. Whatever this was becoming – you weren’t sure what just friendship looked like with a boy because no single, unattached boy you’d ever met only wanted friendship – was getting to be too much. There needed to be a line drawn in the sand. You needed to draw the line in the sand. And more importantly, after the line was drawn, you and Joel needed to be securely on opposite sides of it.

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But curse this man and his ability to put ideas in your head. Horrible, awful, domestic ideas. The sorts of ideas that made you think this image of him: on the back porch with a beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, a dish towel slung over his shoulder for quick access, flipping over and inspecting a couple steaks, chewing on his bottom lip as he pondered how close to medium they were getting… was an image you could get used to seeing.

It was how all boys in the past had gotten you.

They wooed you with their little acts here and there of masculinity. Or their wit. Or just cute looks. They made you believe that they were different. That they were honest, and open, and evolved. And you’d get sucked in and follow the white rabbit down the hole. For a while it’d all be good. You would actually believe that you had found an evolved man that you could coexist with and be happy. But after the momentary bliss, you’d come to realize that the wool had been pulled over your eyes. You’d been deceived and lied to. The boy could not manage his own emotions, let alone understand yours. You’d sit in the anger that you betrayed your sense of self to make room for this boy, and only when you’d talked yourself far enough off the ledge, you’d explode like a time bomb. Afterwards, a tiny piece of you would be the only thing left to go around picking up all the other little fragments of yourself. And you’d put yourself back together with tape and a promise that you wouldn’t ever allow another to break you like that again. That is, until another boy found his way to you and made you think he was different. And thus the cycle continued.

“You have family out here?” Joel looked up from the barbecue and took a sip of his beer while he waited for you to answer.

Taking a step forward and buying some time by swigging down a gulp of your beer, you shook your head. “They’re all in California still. Just had to get away. What about you?”

He nodded and closed the grill, “Sarah’s a few hours away at school and her mom’s ‘bout a half hour away. But my brother’s here. I work with him actually,”

“You must be close with him,”

Joel nodded absently.

“But no wife for Joel Miller,” you smiled, half-hidden by your bottle. “I take it no girlfriend either since apparently you don’t like getting laid,”

He laughed. It was the first real, hearty laugh you’d heard from him. It seemed to shake his whole body and he opened the grill back up and plucked the steaks off it, depositing them on an awaiting plate. “I like getting laid. It might be my favorite thing to do,”

“That’s why I think you’re full of shit. Turning down, what’s her name…”

“Kelly…”

“You’re telling me,” you approached Joel slowly, got right up close to him, and dragged a delicate finger over one of his shoulders and down his bicep to prove a point. “A woman… an attractive woman, I’d say… stripped down in front of you, told you to have your way with her, and you said no thanks,”

Joel watched your finger. His tongue poked out of his mouth quickly to lick his lips before he flashed his eyes back to you, obviously finding great pleasure that his gaze in this close proximity made you avert your own eyes downward. “Exactly,”

You half-smiled and shook your head as you took a step back, “bullshit.”

He shut off the grill and scooped the plate up. “Explain to me why you think that’s bullshit,” he meandered past you and pulled his back door open, allowing you the chance to walk in first before he followed you in.

Instinctively, you progressed into the kitchen, where two stools at the counter were awaiting with place settings. You perched in one while Joel set the steaks down by you and continued to the oven where he pulled out a tray of roasted vegetables. “Because you’re a guy,”

“Man,” he corrected and started placing food on your plate.

“A man,” you mocked. When he finished giving you food and moved onto his, “thank you. And men don’t do that. They chase pleasure. They get their dick wet and they move on down the line, leaving a path of destruction in their wake,”

This time, Joel waited to respond until he was seated next to you. He clinked his bottle against yours, “thanks for coming over.”

“To be honest, I was actually afraid you’d blow up my fridge and I can’t really afford a new one right now,”

“But I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” he focused on his plate and cut into his steak. Seemingly pleased with the degree with which it was cooked, he took a first bite. “Men don’t only care, as you so delicately put, about getting their dick wet.”

“Joel, come on, you know…”

“Boys do. For sure. A boy would look at you, a beautiful woman, and see a direct path to his pleasure. Absolutely. And a boy probably wouldn’t care too much about whether or not you were getting as much out of it as he was. ‘Cause he’s getting his, right?”

You nodded, silently pushing a mixture of steak and veggies into your mouth, enraptured with where he was going to take this conversation. And slightly unable to concentrate past the point of having heard him call you beautiful.

“Men don’t do that. A man would look at you and see that yes, you’re a beautiful woman. But he’d also see that you’ve got a helluva brain, and you’re witty, and funny, and more than a little stubborn. He’d see that you hold yourself and everyone else to a high standard, and he’d want to meet it. And when he slept with you, he’d want to make sure you were getting more out of it than he was,”

Awe-struck was the only word to describe how you felt. Was a guy actually verbalizing everything you already believed? That there was a difference between boys and men. And that most guys thought they were men simply because of their age, when you knew age meant nothing in defining a man.

Joel took a deep breath and finished off his beer, “I turned Kelly down because I knew if I slept with her I’d be taking on a lot more than I wanted to with her. And despite whatever your experience with men might be, this one’s not out to leave a path of destruction behind him.”

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What were these complicated feelings inside of you? Someone who prided themselves on being emotionally intelligent and level-headed and yet… you were spinning like a top. On the one hand you wanted to keep everyone a safe arm’s length away, and on the other you wanted Joel to scale the walls you’d constructed and fortified around yourself. For a long time there was an odd sense of accomplishment at how tall and strong you’d managed to build them. Look at how good they were at keeping people out. But now there was someone in front of you that you thought you wanted to let in – only in constructing your walls, you never put in a gate. And that ribbon of apathy, and the moments of enduring loneliness, maybe it was all self-inflicted.

Who knew how to hurt you better than you?

The beer helped dull those thoughts. Finishing off the second as the conversation meandered through Joel’s last relationship. A topic that would’ve given you supreme pause, and yet he recounted it with ease as if he were just a court reporter, tasked with jotting down the facts. He even acknowledged his role in the dissolution of that relationship. His eyes seemed to glaze over and travel to a distant land as he described all the ways he didn’t measure up. How he was never quite what that woman wanted. And how he had no idea how to become what she wanted. On the flip side, he admitted she’d started off as someone that only saw the moon with him. She’d kept some nights from being too cold and lonely. Only when a certain amount of time passed, did she speak up and sort of declare a relationship was there.

That conversation ended when a third bottle was grabbed for each and moved to the living room. Both on the couch, you with your back pressed up against one of the arm’s of it. Your knees bent with feet planted securely on the cushion. And Joel sitting as close as he could with your legs creating a physical boundary between you. Even his thigh covered your toes, as if seeing how close to the boundary he could get. Despite feeling like this was someone you wanted to let through your walls, however temporarily, your brain still managed to cut off any inkling from your heart – using your body as the vehicle to keep everyone at bay.

“Hmm?” Joel hummed and grabbed your attention back to the present. “‘S’not fair leaving me hanging after I just spilled all my gory relationship details. What about yours?”

You shook your head, trying to appear innocent, “there’s not much to say.”

“Say anything,”

Staring at him, you took a deep breath and a generous sip of your new beer. Then feeling on the good side of buzzed, you stretched forward to move for the coffee table. Seeing your plight and the awkwardness of the angle given that you weren’t inclined to lower your legs to make the action smoother, Joel leaned forward, gently took the bottle from your hands and set it on the table for you.

“He was nice at the start. A bit older than me. I thought it meant we’d be on the same wavelength for once, y’know? That he’d outgrown the frat boy, tool bag phase and moved into a more evolved one. It got physical quick and it was… awful.” You glanced down at your hands, remembering for the first time in a while about what sleeping with that guy felt like – a trial run with hari-kari, complete and self-inflicted betrayal.

With your pause and sensing obvious discomfort, Joel reached across his body and got a loose grip on your shin. He gave it a soft squeeze that felt like permission to stop if you were so inclined. But it didn’t hurt like it used to; as if you had been able to remove yourself from the equation and were now just recounting the plot of some terrible film you’d seen once.

Shrugging and with a half-smile he couldn’t place, you looked back up at Joel, “he had a good time.”

“Was it ever good for you?” He mumbled as though he didn’t actually want to hear the answer. And because you hadn’t reacted in any way to his hand on your shin, he took a chance and used that grip to lower your leg across his lap.

“No, but I’m a helluva actress.”

He raised his eyebrows and absently took hold of your other leg and lowered that one across his lap, too. Now the literal barrier you’d put between you had been carefully circumvented. “He never stopped to figure it out?”

You shook your head, “he was getting his, Joel. See, it’s hard to figure out when you’re dealing with a boy. They hide it well,”

Joel reached forward and set his half-empty beer next to yours on the coffee table. When he reclined back to his previous position, his hands migrated to your feet and squeezed them with a familiarity of an old married couple who’d been practicing this dance for decades.

“It ended two and a half years ago, so a distant memory,”

He only nodded. You thought he’d have something about that. Something like what’ve you been doing for two years without a man. But maybe he figured you were doing just fine. Probably better. So he only squeezed your feet again before his hands migrated a little further north to your knees, fingers just barely dipping between your thighs that you’d managed to keep pressed together. Finally he asked:

“No fillers in the meantime?”

It made you laugh. Any number of innuendo could be applied to his question. It was also at this point that you felt your resolve fading. The will to keep him at bay becoming less of a conscious effort. “No fillers. Not really my style,”

“Not a one night stand kinda girl?” He smirked and shot a playful glance at you. There was no chance he was unaware that the press of your thighs together had lessened. Any further action of his hand would’ve resulted in him going wherever he wanted, however he wanted. But he didn’t. His hand remained where it was, gaining no further purchase and adding no extra pressure.

“Would you be if sex was never good for you?”

He chuckled and threw his head back against the couch, “fair enough.” He shook his head, absently staring at the ceiling. Only when he’d gathered his thoughts and words did he shift his gaze back to you. “People are simple creatures,” there was a slight pause and though you opened your mouth to refute that, he continued first. “I mean the biology part. It’s not hard to get a woman off,”

“Okay, hotshot. Let me go get a horn for you to toot a little louder,”

He grinned widely, showing off nearly every tooth in his mouth. The look made you smile as well – like a kid getting caught opening presents before Christmas. “There’s a lot of hard tasks in this world,” he pursed his lips and shrugged, “making a woman come isn’t one of them.”

The heat you’d felt rising in your chest and neck after he’d successfully moved your mattress into your bedroom was returning. Only this time, you felt it settle in your cheeks, and you wondered if he was aware of it. Your eyes were glued to him, wide, trying to pick up on as much visual information they could get. What you found was Joel adding the slightest of pressure between your knees to spread your thighs just enough for him to pivot on the couch and face you squarely.

You swallowed down a lump in your throat, eyes flicking over the sight of him: the way graying curls moved across his forehead, or the way his eyes never left yours. Not even for a second. Not even when he was positioning himself closer to you, kneeling back on his shins with his thighs nudging yours upward at an angle. He smiled softly, a gentle thing that instantly put you at greater ease, and leaned in closer to you, planting his hands on the couch on either side of your chest.

“Can I kiss you?” His focus wandered down to your lips when they parted.

In all your years of life, no one had ever asked that, and it took you aback, scrambling to make sense of the English you believed you were fluent in. But you nodded quickly and assumed that would’ve been the green light. Probably would’ve for most people, but as you were coming to learn, Joel wasn’t quite like most people.

He smiled and bowed his head, taking a breath to gather himself. In the meantime, his hair was close to your nose and the muskiness of his scent was everything you thought and wanted it to be. He raised his head and looked at you again, his eyes practically pleading. “Can we make that verbal?”

“Yes,” you exhaled. But when it didn’t result in his lips meeting yours with haste, you tried again. “Kiss me,”

Like a fire ignited under him, Joel closed the rest of the gap between you. Hands drifting to your cheeks, he cupped your head with the most practiced of ease and pressed his mouth to yours, first with closed lips to test the waters before the next action was the parting of his lips on yours. His tongue searched for entrance into your mouth, finding it when a soft breath was exhaled.

While trying not to talk yourself out of this moment, you also tried to think about the last time you’d been kissed like this. Or kissed at all, period. But like this, with want, and desire, and passion. Like all of Joel was made for this exact moment: to kiss you with the intention of every fiber of his being; to make your brain go foggy and blur out everything that did not add to this need. It was as if he could sense you slipping away from him, focused elsewhere instead of letting yourself buy into this, and he recaptured you with a soft bite to your lower lip. He re-positioned his hands; one at the side of your neck and jaw, and the other gripping onto your hip, adjusting you further until your ass was pressed up against his crotch.

He forced himself to pull back, slight enough to be able to speak but still close enough to press his forehead against yours. “Stay with me. Don’t go somewhere else,”

Your instinct was to protest, that you weren’t about to leave, but realized he’d picked up on the thing you were wondering about. The thing no guy had ever picked up on, or cared to, before. The distance your brain was willing to create between itself and your body.

“Joel,” you whispered, sounding slightly more needy than you would’ve hoped.

“I know,” he murmured back. His hand ditched your hip for a split second and took hold of your wrist. Led it up over his shoulder and to the back of his neck, until the backs of your fingers brushed along the ends of his hair. Without fail, you softly clutched into it. “Stay with me. Right here,” his hand went back to your hip and your lips reconnected. Open-mouthed with his tongue pressing into yours. He tilted his head to the side and groaned into your mouth, sending a vibration down your throat, past your chest, through your stomach, and straight to your core.

You hummed back into his mouth, for once closing your eyes and letting yourself live in the feeling his lips could administer. The heat that had already been living in your cheeks seemed to amplify with the size of him around you. His broad shoulders meeting a wide chest that seemed to dwarf you. Large hands that effortlessly cupped around your hip or engulfed your cheek. He was everywhere at once and when he ducked his head lower to kiss your neck, landing a love bite on your jugular, it took extra measures to keep yourself grounded and there for him.

Your hand slowly released the hair at the nape of his neck, and slid down over his shoulder to his chest, followed the seam at the side of his t-shirt until your fingertips reached the hem at the bottom. With fingers tucking beneath the fabric and meeting the skin at his oblique, you felt him exhale a hot breath against your neck, his hips shifting beneath you. As you ran your hand north, you took stock of the muscles your fingers passed, and how while still present and firm, they’d grown less pronounced with age. A softness to his body that he’d earned the right to after years of hard labor. Or so you assumed by the feeling of calloused hands on you.

Gauging what you wanted from him as your hands worked their way upward, pushing his shirt up with them, he groaned not wanting to take his lips off your neck, but doing so anyway to sit back. With a swift motion, he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor unceremoniously. He wiped his hand down over his mouth and shook his head as if in disbelief as he pressed his hands back into the couch on either side of you, “god, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

His eyes danced their way over every feature on your face as if trying to commit them to memory, before they drifted lower, down to where your hips met his. But all this unadulterated looking sparked a flame of timidness inside you, and your instinct to quell the nerves was to grab for him, urging him back to you. If he was busy with his lips on you – any part of you – it’d keep his eyes from boring holes into you. His lips met yours again with fervor, this time forcing his tongue into your mouth. A helpless moan floated out of your throat and Joel responded by laying a hand at your neck. Fingers around it but applying no pressure.

“Bed. Please,” you whispered so low you wondered if you had wanted him to hear it or not.

But it was like he was attuned to you and your body more than any previous guy had been. And in hearing your request, he moved his lips back to your neck and you felt a smile spread across his face, pressing against your skin.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” he mumbled against your skin. So tight that it distorted his words and had you humming for instant clarification. He lifted his head and looked back down at you, as if his eyes alone would be able to figure out the answer. “Drunk?”

You ran your hands up to his chest, “on two and a half beers?”

“That’s not an answer,” he let out a breath and drifted his hand from your neck, down to your chest where he gave one of your breasts a squeeze. You noticed at the same moment, he reached around to your ass but avoided it to simply adjust himself in his jeans.

“I��d have to be drunk to want to sleep with you?”

“I reckon it’d help,” he grinned boyishly and bent in again for another tongue-led kiss as though he couldn’t help himself.

You grabbed either side of his face in your hands and curled your fingers into his beard. “Not drunk, just want you,” there was a lack of movement on his end and you weren’t sure if he was short-circuiting or trying to figure out if someone your size could indeed get drunk on two and a half beers. Either way, you tapped his ribs, “now, if possible.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #almost there in part 3 #the one you need #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #au #neighbor!joel

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wardenparker · 7 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 2

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships.* Blood consumption, mention of deceased family members, trauma responses by an abuse victim. Summary: Meeting your new roommates is an exercise in opposites. Notes: Introducing Max and Eddie! And a photo of the dining room to boot 🍷

Ch 1

It's a long day of getting lost in your own house when you finally venture out of your room later, and even though the house is large it is still inviting. That gray bedroom upstairs feels like it's meant for someone and you just can't put your finger on who. The statues in the marble hall beside the library seem to want to leap to life. Every book on every shelf is just begging to be read. Mrs. Taylor is kind enough to make you a light but delicious lunch and reminds you that you can do whatever you like in your own house when you sheepishly ask if it's okay to eat it in the library.

After spending about an hour in the evening walking around the grounds – all fourteen enormous acres of grounds – you come back inside to find a cup of hot cocoa waiting for you in your room and you park yourself very firmly on the chaise by the window just like Renee had suggested. Everything is quiet as the sun goes down, and only afterward do you hear movement elsewhere on the floor.

Eddie groans as he opens his door and drops the bag of books by the door. His professors are assholes and the classes are boring but he hates the idea of going to the advisors and changing his classes even more, so he's stuck for the next semester at least. "What a day." His comment is directed towards no one, he hadn't even sought out Mrs. Taylor or Renee when he got here. Wanting to just shut himself away and forget the tantalizing smell of human for a bit.

“I’m sorry?” You were standing in the hall when you heard the words, just a bare and exasperated sigh, but you’re more afraid of making one of these men angry by lurking around than you are of what they might say if you introduced yourself so you put your courage to the sticking place and knock on the door frame that you saw the young man head toward.

"Oh!" Eddie whirls around, and it's a moment before he tilts his head in confusion and curiosity. "I didn't know anyone else was up here." He admits, his long, lanky form folding in on itself in that awkward way that the youthful still carry until they are comfortable in their own bodies. Shooting you a self-deprecating grin, he shrugs. "Sorry."

“Don’t be. I’m the one who surprised you, not the other way around.” You’re only half visible at the corner of the door frame and – after a second of internal debate – step out fully into view and introduce yourself.

“Oh! You’re the new owner.” Eddie eyes light up and he rushes forward to greet you. Instead of shaking your hand, he pulls you into a brief hug, only remembering you know nothing about him when you stiffen immediately. “Sorry.”

"I just got here this morning." He seems friendly but you weren't expecting the hug at all and you freeze when he squeezes you. "Are you...um...Mrs. Taylor said the other residents were named Max and Eddie?"

“I’m Eddie.” He steps back and searches your face, aware that you are on edge and despite his youthful face, he’s older and more experienced than he appears. “Nice to meet you.”

"It's nice to meet you, too." At least, it is so far, and you have no intention of being rude. "Did you...know Ms. Brown very well?" It feels odd to call her your great-aunt considering you had no idea who she was before she died, so you'll stick to her name for now.

“Cookie? Yeah.” He smiles fondly at the thought of the old bird and chuckles. “I spent hours listening to her stories. She was a hoot.”

Renee seemed to have a similar reaction of nostalgia when asked about the previous owner, and that makes you relax a little. Obviously the people that surrounded her were glad to know her, which is a very good thing. "I wish I could have known her."

Eddie’s face falls slightly, remembering that you were never in contact with Cookie and why. He doesn’t know the complete story but he has just enough of an idea to be sorry about it. “I’m sure that you would have liked her.”

"I'm sorry," you fidget slightly and frown. "I didn't mean to upset you."

“You didn’t.” Eddie is jumping to reassure you. Not wanting you to feel bad about anything that was beyond your control. “Sooooooo…” he shoves his hands in his pockets. “How do you like it so far?”

"The house is beautiful." That is an understatement, but since you're sure he's just being polite to his new roommate you don't want to gush in detail. Instead you narrow it down to a single question. "That...that little house thing out on the grounds." It looked like a little cottage, with flowers carefully planted in specific patterns out in front and two statues of life-sized bunnies sitting sentinel at the opening of the brick wall. "Do you know what it is? Or...what it was used for?" You hadn't dared to go in, but ever since you walked away from it, you wish you had tried the doorknob.

"It used to be Cookie's teahouse." Eddie tells you, lighting up with a smile. "Do you want to go see?" He asks, motioning towards the window. "I can come with you. I spent a lot of time there with her when the weather was nice. She would love to sit out there and have tea and smell the flowers from the gardens."

"Would that be okay?" It's still all new to you – the idea that you actually own this place and aren't encroaching on someone else's space – and the question is automatic.

"Of course." Eddie senses that you aren't used to being allowed to do things, and he wants to frown, but he also doesn't want you to think that he's upset again. "We could have tea out there sometime if you like the place." He offers.

"That...actually sounds really nice." He's so friendly. And seems so normal. It's an enormous comfort after the upheaval of the last few days. "I don't want to step on anyone's toes or be in the way. But tea sounds really nice."

"How are you going to step on anyone's toes?" He asks incredulously. "You are the boss." That might not have sunk in for you, but Eddie is happy to remind you. He's not sure if Max would or not. "Come on, let's go adventure."

"You and Max have been living here for a while already." It doesn't matter that you don't know for sure about the ‘a while’ part, but you're certain they've been here longer than a single day and that gives them rank in your mind. Nevertheless, you let Eddie snag your arm and steer you back toward the great hall and the master stairwell.

"Max and I are actually pretty good roommates." He assures you. "We aren't loud, although we do stay up late. But we don't hold wild parties and act crazy."

"I usually stay up late, too." Never having been a morning person, you had tended to gravitate towards things that happened at night instead of in the brightest part of the day. Until Derek, of course. He had encouraged you to find something full-time with regular hours, and that had meant a 9-5. "Are you a student?" You had seen the Salve Regina University notebook on his desk when you looked into his room earlier, and there was a large bookbag in his room just now when you met him.

"I am." He groans quietly, rolling his eyes playfully as he looks over at you. "It's soooooo much fun." He complains. "No, it's not really bad, but I'm just in that slump that comes with hating all your classes one semester."

“I remember that.” You nod a little as you head down the stairs together. Now that you’ve walked around it a few times, the house is getting a little easier to navigate. “That was spring semester of sophomore year for me.”

It doesn't help that Eddie feels like he's been in school forever, but he nods. "So what is your favorite part?" He asks. "The house I mean."

“The library, I think.” It’s certainly the place you spent the most time today, besides your own room. “I can’t believe it actually has a ballroom, though.” The dark wood frames of the yellow floral furniture caught your eye every time you passed them today and always made you smile privately. “I can’t imagine it gets used much anymore.”

"It could be." Eddie chuckles. "I bet if you talked to the right people, that ballroom would be filled with people who want to pretend to be a part of the gilded age, or are just nosy." He hums. "Or just really like canapés."

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” It does make you smile though, the notion of a party that big, rather than being sad that you can’t think of a single person you would actually invite to it. Your only family were your parents and they died just before you started college. And any friends you made during that time stopped talking to you years ago.

"Friends will come out of the woodwork." Eddie does frown slightly at that, hoping that you aren't hurt by social climbers and people with less than honest intentions. He doesn't think that it would be allowed for long if he's honest. "Just make sure that you don't offer money to anyone."

“I’ll take your word for it.” He seems to be speaking from experience, or at least authority, and you nod. “So…can I ask how you knew Cookie? It’s just…I really know nothing about her and then she went and left me all of this. I wish I could have met her at least once.”

"Through my...father." He admits. "Adoptive." He shrugs slightly. "It's kind of hard to explain, but I've known Cookie since I was a kid." That's true in a manner of speaking. "She is the one who taught me my manners."

“Well, she did a very good job.” You won’t pry into his background at all. Families are always complicated. “It seems like manners were kind of her thing? Mrs. Taylor implied that, anyway.”

"Yes and no." Eddie grins again. "Manners were always important until it was time to be impolite." He intones seriously, quoting Cookie. "Be friendly to everyone, but prepare to tear them apart."

“Be friendly to everyone but prepare to tear them apart.” Repeating the quote paints a picture of a very interesting lady and you think back a little. “Sort of like… If you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit by me, that Alice Roosevelt Longworth quote. They have the same energy.”

"Exactly." Eddie laughs and the two of you are out the front door of the house and down the steps to walk across the manicured lawn.

“Sounds like she was fun.” And for some reason that draws a pang of something like regret or longing from you.

"Hopefully we can provide you that same energy." He supplies with a smirk. "Or at least not annoy you."

“It takes a lot to annoy me.” If it didn’t, you can’t imagine what your life would have been like before now.

"I don't know." Eddie chuckles. "You haven't met us when we want to be weird." He teases, hoping to get a laugh out of you. You seem like you need to laugh more.

“Do your worst,” you challenge good naturedly, just wanting to put him at ease. He’s nice. Nice and normal. And you’ve been missing normal in your life.

“You asked for it.” He warns playfully. Leaning in, he drops his voice to a whisper. “I drink milk in my tea.”

Taken aback by yet more normalcy, you end up giggling along with Eddie as you walk through the grounds together. It’s after dark and the moon is bright tonight, shining down on the grass everywhere. It isn’t late yet, barely close to dinner time, but the moon is out. “I’ll never tell,” you promise him with a laugh. “Because I do, too.”

“Well damn.” He snaps his fingers in disappointment. “I was hoping to show you how odd I was.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to work a little harder than that,” you tease as the little teahouse comes into view.

“If you wanted to decorate this space, there’s furniture in the attic.” Eddie tells you. “Both in the main house and the carriage house.”

“No one would mind?” Again, your first instinct is permission.

His laughter is soft, not wanting you to feel foolish about your consideration of others. “No. I’ll help you move anything you want. And Renee would love to organize.”

“Maybe…” You tilt your head, glancing over at Eddie while you walk but refocusing when the little stucco teahouse comes up in front of you. It’s surrounded by a little brick wall and has little porthole windows and a cute, dark green door that you fell in love with immediately. “Maybe next time you have a day without classes?” You ask, not wanting to put him out but loving the idea of a space like this to make a sanctuary out of.

“I have half days on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He pipes up. “And of course the weekends. No classes then. So ask for help whenever and I’ll give you a hand.” He reaches for the doorknob. “I’ve always imagined it as a witchy little cottage.”

It feels so much less proper than the house when Eddie opens the door to let you both in. Sure there is a little table covered with a lace doily, but the single light hanging from the ceiling and the mahogany and crimson velvet seats are all extremely gothic. It looks like something plucked out of an Anne Rice novel. “Oh…it’s perfect!” You sigh out immediately, the gut reaction to the space overwhelming you. Little shelves hold some books and photographs, and you pause with your fingers nearly touched a polished silver framed photo of a woman who looks like she’s in her fifties with a young girl in her lap. They look wonderfully happy, but something about it strikes you as odd. Not that you can put your finger on it, but it’s there all the same.

Eddie shuffles slightly as you study the picture. “So, uh, how do you like it?” He asks, rushing forward to open the little stove door that’s sitting in the corner. “She liked making her tea right here. Drove Mrs. Taylor crazy because she wanted to make it for her, but she would just cackle and send her back to the house for cookies and sandwiches.”

“It sounds like she was happy here.” Which is something that is becoming surprisingly important to you, the more you learn about this absent relative. “That makes it even better.”

"This is the spot that she met her soulmate." Eddie tells you. "At least, that's what she said." He doesn't know how much to tell you, so he keeps it vague. Knowing that things will be revealed to you later. When you've settled in.

“Right here?” You look around you, wondering if you are remembering wrong. You could have sworn the lawyer said her soulmate built the house for her. “Is…that why he built her the house?”

"Yes." Eddie shrugs slightly. "She didn't talk about it much. But she told me that one day when she was feeling nostalgic about the past."

“I think finding your soulmate is one of those things you’re supposed to feel a little nostalgic about forever.” Although that does make you shrug, and you shove your hands in your pockets as you pace around the small interior of the teahouse. “I’m guessing.”

Eddie just hums, unsure of what to say to that. He doesn't want press in case you have hard feelings about your soulmate. "What do you think about the space?"

“I think it’s cozy.” Looking around you, you can see the threads of a happy, comfortable life and feel a pang of longing… or maybe jealousy. Wishing you had your own soulmate to share all this with. Whoever they were, their marks had disappeared about four years ago. “And that if no one truly minds, I think I might like to spend some time out here while the weather is still good.”

"You can spend time wherever you wish." Eddie smiles. "When the weather is cold, I'll help you build up little fires in the stove." He promises. "You'd be amazed how warm it gets out here."

“I guess I should buy snow boots?” In Tennessee they were never necessary. “When does winter start around here?”

"Whenever it wants to." Eddie jokes with a laugh. "Don't worry. I think there are about five hundred pairs in the mud room."

“Hopefully we’ll have plenty of time.” It’s not even October yet and the crisp autumn air whips through the little room little a tease, bringing some fallen leaves with it.

"The days will be shorter soon." Eddie looks forward to it and he grins at you. "Do you like Halloween?" He asks curiously.

“Love it.” It lights you up from the inside, a mention of your favourite day of the year. Any mention of it. “It was a big thing in my house growing up so I kind of grew up into a horror moving loving, pumpkin spice drinking, vampire loving, spooky girl.” It hadn’t been Derek’s thing at all so you had been keeping it bottled up for years. Now that you’re on your own? Who knows. Maybe it’s time to start living like a ‘spooky bitch’ like your friends in college used to say. Like the witch your parents raised you to be.

"We should decorate the manor!" Eddie immediately grins, excited about the prospect. "It's the perfect backdrop for spooky shit."

“How would our third roommate feel about that?” You ask, knowing full well that not everyone is into Halloween.

"Max?" Eddie tilts his head and chuckles. "He'll love it. The cheesier the better."

******

The half hour or so you spend outside walking the grounds with Eddie is surprisingly calming. He's excitable and not pushy at all, ready to fill awkward silences with friendly babble until you stumble across another topic you both enjoy. When you meander back to the house you find a focused Mrs. Taylor setting the dinner table for three. "Ms. Brown served dinner precisely at seven o'clock," she tells you with an expectant look. "Will that be acceptable for you as well, ma'am?"

"Of course." Far be it from you to change a routine, especially one that you have no stake in. Before now you had been eating dinner at the exact moment Derek got home from work – no matter when that was. "Should we..." you look between Mrs. Taylor and Eddie uncertainly. "Are we expected to change?" Not that you have any nice clothes, but things are very traditional here...

"No." Eddie supplies that answer, knowing that if Mrs. Taylor had her way, she would have you changing into evening dresses. She was a stickler for propriety in some ways, even more than Ms. Brown. "We don't change for dinner."

"Just checking." Although for some reason it makes you feel stupid to have even asked, and you check your watch instead. "I'll be back in ten minutes and not a moment later, Mrs. Taylor. I promise." You'll trade your shoes for slippers and your jacket for a sweater, and be back downstairs in no time. Something tells you that the extremely proper housekeeper wouldn't like to be kept waiting for even five seconds.

Mrs. Taylor nods but Eddie is the one that answers. "Take your time." He assures you. "I want to talk to her about my protein shakes." He's already figured out that you will continuously ask permission and he wants you to feel comfortable here for your first dinner.

"How was she in the garden?" Mrs. Taylor asks, once you are out of sight and she can hear your feet creak on the stairs.

"Unsure of herself." Eddie tells her seriously, frowning slightly as he looks towards the stairs. "Scared. I don't think she's been treated very well."

"She's been skittish all day. I wasn't sure if it was nerves at first but it seems to be more than that." The older woman shakes her head sadly and goes back to carefully setting out drinking glasses on the table. No wine glasses, since you had said that you don't drink, but a goblet for water and a tall glass for the iced tea recipe she had dredged out from a party decades ago.

"She's been asking permission to do anything." He confirms. "Even doing anything with the teahouse." He shakes his head. "She owns this place is asking permission to go upstairs before dinner."

"It's not exactly subtle." The housekeeper agrees, moving on to the next place setting in her exacting way. "And when she told me that she doesn't drink alcohol, I could smell the fear on her." She tuts softly, shaking her head again and making sure that your place setting at the head of the table is perfect. "Poor thing."

“Max isn’t going to like that.” Eddie knows that Max likes to uphold a certain image. “Hopefully he’s not going to scare her too badly.”

"I guess we'll see." It certainly wouldn't be the first time that Max Phillips had scared a young lady inside this house, and she's certain it wouldn't be the last. "It'll probably bother him more than I won't be serving wine at dinner anymore. Not if the lady of the house isn't partaking."

“Yeah.” Eddie rolls his eyes and hopes that Max is on his best behavior tonight. If he’s not, the old man will be pissed.

“You know your father has asked for reports?” She raises one eyebrow in Eddie’s direction but continues her work studiously. In under two minutes, she’ll have to go back downstairs. “So he needs to be. I won’t lie for him.”

“That’s between him and the old man.” Eddie holds up his hands to signify he’s not getting in the middle of this. “I just wanted her to feel like she has a friend here.”

“That’s very good of you.” She’s always liked Eddie, and things like this are a good example of why. “I’ve got to go finish dinner. Will you intercept him at the door in case he’s forgotten what day it is?”

“On my way to stand guard.” He throws Mrs. Taylor a snappy salute and disappears towards the door even though he can hear Max’s car from a mile away.

******

The stone lions by the from door are a lasting part of the Victorian air of the house, and Eddie is sitting on the step between them when Max finally starts walking up from the carriage house. He swears that obnoxious sports car gets louder every day, but it’s probably just his perception. Eddie’s little car isn’t showy on purpose.

“Did Mrs. Taylor throw you out for not shining your shoes?” Max snorts as he walks up to the younger vampire. He straightens his tie and brushes off some lint from his suit. “Is she serving AB negative today?” He asks. “The positive upset my stomach the other day.”

Eddie sighs, shaking his head at his adoptive brother and pulling himself to his feet. “Max,” he huffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What day is today?”

“It’s…” Max frowns slightly. “Friday. There’s a big orgy tonight at the office. You wanna come?” His brows lift up, since he knows that isn’t Eddie’s scene. It’s not been his scene in a while too, if he’s honest.

“No.” The seemingly younger of the two shakes his head again. “No, I don’t want to come, but technically yes it is Friday. More importantly, though, it’s her first day here.”

“Shit.” The grin slides off Max’s face and he shakes his head. “She’s here? I didn’t think she would be here now. What the hell did she do? Jump in her car and race here to claim her inheritance?”

“I don’t think that’s quite it.” Eddie admits, though he hasn’t worked out all the details. “She’s not greedy or anything.”

He doubts that, but Eddie is always the glass half full type. “So what’s she like? Pretty? Nah, I don’t want you to tell me.” He grins. “Better to be surprised.”

“Be nice!” Eddie practically begs, knowing Max hardly ever is. “Mrs. Taylor and Renee already like her.”

“Great.” Max rolls his eyes, fully aware that Mrs. Taylor and Renee like adopting pet projects. So now he’s fully expecting some socially awkward wallflower who couldn’t interest a plastic bag to stir in a windstorm.

“And the old man is getting reports from Mrs. Taylor,” Eddie warns. “So be nice.”

Max rolls his eyes again. “When am I not nice?” He asks sarcastically.

“Literally always.” Eddie sighs as Max pushes past him into the house without another care in the world.

He doesn’t know why this is such a big deal. Humans aren’t interesting, at least not anymore. His priorities and attitude changing since that little incident four years ago. Cooling his jets here as a form of punishment ever since. “Honey, I’m home.” Max calls out loudly as he saunters into the house.

The sound of an unfamiliar voice echoing up through the atrium catches your attention, and a curl of dread rolls through you before you pull on your sweater and head back to the stairs. No one has given you any reason to dread and yet you can’t help it — worried that the so far manageable bubble of your new life will be punctured at any second. Nothing ever stays happy, or even pleasant, for too long. You pace out to the master stairwell and wrap your cardigan around yourself like a security blanket as you go down to the dining room. Don’t project. You’re overreacting before there is anything to react to…

The problem with Max Phillips is that he knows he’s cute, and because of that, he thinks he can get away with a lot. Partly because of being in that douchey frat boy stage when he was changed, and partly as a protective front he’s adopted. “What’s for dinner? I’m starved.” His chuckle rolls out behind his question, a little darker than normal.

“Hello?” From the stairs you can’t see Eddie or Mrs. Taylor anywhere, but it’s one minute until seven and you already know that Mrs. Taylor likes to be precise.

“Hello.” Max, despite what Eddie thinks, is polite. His version of polite. “Come on down and play.” He calls out teasingly.

“You…must be Max?” There’s something about him that unsettles you at first, until you turn the corner and find someone extremely handsome standing at the bottom of the stairs in a three-piece suit. This is your other roommate?

“The one and only.” He waggles his brows at you and winks. Looking you up and down and approving of what he’s seeing.

“I—it—it’s nice to meet you.” At the bottom of the stairs you can tell that he’s more physically imposing than he seemed from the platform, and your shoulders round in on themselves in response. Making yourself smaller is an automatic reflex that you don’t even notice anymore. “I’m Dolly.” Who knows why you do it. Why you introduce yourself with your nickname when you had been perfectly fine meeting Eddie with your own full name an hour ago. Who knows? But it’s that name that tumbles out of your mouth instead and that is that.

“Dolly?” His brows shoot up and his grin slowly stretches his face as he feels the need to tease you. “Yes you certainly are, sweet cheeks. Not nearly the boring little drab spinster I was imagining. Timid, but I don’t mind that.”

It might be the glee in his voice that makes you already wish you could take back the ‘nice’ part of ‘nice to meet you’, because you immediately feel like you’re on the defensive again. Like he’s a predator and you’re prey. Which is just a weird, uncomfortable thought to have immediately upon meeting someone, but you know without a doubt that if you try to get around him right now he’ll block your path. Instinct tells you so. “It’s just a nickname,” you murmur, unsure of what to do now and feeling that fight or flight instinct scratching at the back of your mind.

“It suits you.” He tells you, giving you his most charming smile as he steps closer to you. “How are you enjoying being here? Isn’t this house to die for?”

"It's very beautiful." That can't be denied, and you enjoyed looking around the grounds so much. "I think...it's..." you swallow and your eyes drop to the floor. "We should go in to dinner?"

“It’ll hold.” Max shrugs, unconcerned with that Mrs. Taylor would say. He leans in and inhales the sweet, cloying scent you are wearing, instantly addicted to it. “You smell delicious.” He groans. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s…just a spray…” No expensive bottled perfume has been in your bathroom since before your mother died, and you struggle to remember the name of the Bath & Body Works scent you have on with the clouding proximity of this intimidating man. “Vampire Blood? I think that’s what it’s called?”

“Mmmmmmhhhh, my favorite scent.” Max can’t help but lean in again, brushing his nose against your neck as he invades your personal space.

The way your pulse jumps at the touch has your whole body recoiling in response. Equal parts flight response and confusion are at war in you, and for a second you almost thought you enjoyed the touch. That’s impossible, you tell yourself sternly. Being touch starved and enjoying it are two different things.

Max leans back, resisting the urge to frown at the mixed signals your body is giving him. He can hear the way your heart sped up and smell the way your cunt reacted, but your body recoils like he is disgusting. Instead he grins and winks at you. “Shall we eat?” He asks.

“Sure.” The suggestion is welcome, and when he finally shifts aside to let you past, you move like lightning. Eddie is already in the dining room, chatting amiably with Renee as she pours cold drinks. The younger woman smiles when she catches sight of you and excuses herself to go downstairs, ready to tell Mrs. Taylor that everyone has assembled for dinner.

“Where’s the wine?” Max asks immediately, looking around at the lack of additional glasses.

“Dolly doesn’t drink.” Eddie answers immediately, having seen the discomfort in your eyes as soon as you walked in. “So Mrs. Taylor won’t be serving wine with dinner. Period.”

“Awwww really?” Max looks back at you and pouts, obviously unhappy at that news.

“I—” instantly coiling in on yourself again, you realize in the same second - to your horror - that both men have sat down on the sides of the table, putting you at the head. For a woman who has spent the last several years learning how to become part of the wallpaper, this is your worst nightmare. “I didn’t mean for everyone else to have to stop,” you murmur, although you know the smell of it will do awful things to your panicky self. Just because Derek drank too much doesn’t mean everyone else will…give them a chance to prove your fears wrong…

“No.” Eddie shakes his head adamantly and shoots Max a pointed glare. “We don’t have to drink.”

Max snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t drink champagne?” He demands, waiting until you shake your head no. “No hot toddy when you’re sick? Or a little splash of Irish whiskey in your tea on a blistering day?”

“No.” His ability to make you feel small is uncanny and unwelcome, and your eyes cast down at the table. “Not anymore.”

“Pity.” Max throws you a faux pout and then looks over at Eddie. “So, how was your day?” He asks sing-songy. “Mine was great. I sold a ten-million-dollar contract on a bunch of shit.”

“Classes aren’t great,” Eddie shrugs and brushes it off, more concerned with the way that you implied there is a reason you don’t drink. Like something happened. “Spent some time out in the teahouse this afternoon. We talked about decorating for Halloween.”

“Halloween?” Max hums, looking around the room to see if Mrs. Taylor is having a stroke. “Good idea. Maybe we can have a haunted house.”

“Whatever the lady of the house decides.” Appearing as if from nowhere with the first course, Mrs. Taylor sets a plate of beef tartare with crostini in front of each of you. “Ms. Brown threw a very dignified masquerade ball in the autumn every year for decades.”

Max rolls his eyes and snorts. “When was the last time that happened?” He asks sarcastically.

“Not so long ago that I don’t remember.” Mrs. Taylor answers primly, neatly leaving out the fact that her memory stretches much longer than her appearance would make anyone think. “They were beautiful, those parties,” she hums before slipping out the door again.

“Boring.” Max huffs and taps his fingers on the table. “We should have it gothic spooky. Black candles and haunted rooms.” He grins. “Vampires.”

“If you think people would enjoy it…” The dish in front of you is familiar only in the sense that you can identify what it is from cooking shows, not that you’ve ever had it before. But you would never insult someone who has cooked for you by not eating what is served. “They’ll be your guests, not mine. All the people I know here are in this house.”

“I think that we should have a masquerade again.” Eddie interjects. “I am sure that all of society here would love to come to a ball.”

“Is there really society left?” It’s a genuine question, since you don’t know anything about this kind of life. For all you know, real rich people still eat seven course dinners and sending their kids to European boarding schools.

“I’m sure that it’s not what it once was, but yeah.” Eddie hums. Max nods. “Plenty of movers and shakers. If they know that this place is open for a party, they will come.”

“It’s something to consider, then.” A masquerade brings fantasies of dancing to mind for you, but they’re ones you’ll drown in privately. It’s been a lot of years since you danced, especially in a ballroom of any kind.

There’s a small silence as the conversation lulls. “Sooooo.” Max starts. “How about a toast?” He holds up his glass that doesn’t have wine. “To Cookie. Maybe there’s a point to bringing us all together that we can’t see right now.”

“If anybody had a plan up her sleeve, it was Cookie.” Eddie agrees, picking up his glass.

Whatever the point was or is, you can only hope it becomes apparent soon. But you raise your glass anyway, feeling like it’s the least you can do to toast the woman who left you everything and very literally changed your life. “I wish I could have met her,” you admit, a crack of a smile peeking through your expression. “But I’m very grateful for what she’s done.”

“I’m sure you are.” Max chuckles. “It’s not every day you’re given a mansion and a fortune. Got plans for it? Or still in shock?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said that I’m not the sort of person who dreams about being rich.” The first course of your dinner is only a few bites, but already you’re feeling like you won’t want more. The conversation has turned your stomach.

“Why not?” Max looks positively offended by the idea that someone wouldn’t dream of being rich. “Do what you want, when you want? Answer to no one? That’s the dream, baby.”

“For some people.” You nod, but only vaguely, knowing that you aren’t one of them. “And that’s fine. But not everyone wants to be king of the castle.”

“Queen.” Max pips up. When you tilt your head in confusion, he chuckles. “You’re obviously not a man, so you would be the queen of this castle.” He winks and smirks at you suggestively.

“But—” But you just said that was something that you did not want, so the feeling of being ignored and feeling stupid about it seeps deep into your bones like it has every other time before. “I—I guess. You’re…you’re right.”

“‘Course, I’m right, Dolly.” He hums in amusement. “Got an MBA in business. Hard not to be right.” There’s something vulnerable about you and he doesn’t know why he keeps pressing, but that douchey armor seems to be strong today and Max is a man who rolls with it rather than sitting and self-reflecting.

“Queen Dolly.” Eddie tries, trying to get Max to back the fuck off a little and you to at least smile. He feels weirdly protective of you since this afternoon. Like a big brother, even though he isn’t very protective of his actual adoptive siblings at all. They can all fend for themselves — it’s pretty obvious that you can’t or won’t for whatever reason.

“That’s a nickname.” Max grins. “Queenie. Yep. I like that.” He raises a brow at Eddie, as if challenging him as he looks back at your timid features. “All hail, Queenie. Ruler of the mansion.”

Instantly regretting saying anything, all Eddie can really do is shake his head. Once Max latches on to something there’s no going back. “That means you gotta listen to her,” he reminds Max pointedly.

“Oh I’ll be her subject.” Max chuckles dirtily. Even if he’s the one that likes to be in charge, he can pretend.

“That won’t be necessary.” As attractive as he might be, the lewdness and arrogance does nothing for you. Not anymore.

Rejection isn’t something that Max is unused to, but still, yours stings for some reason. That, more than any harsh looks from Eddie, makes him quiet down. Going silent through the rest of the course.

Mrs. Taylor re-emerges a few minutes later with plates laden down with filet mignon, cheesy potatoes gratin, and beautifully cooked broccoli rabe and sets one in front of each of you after clearing away the empty appetizer plates. You murmur your thanks, noticing that the steaks she set in front of both men are barely cooked, but that yours looks like it came straight out of a cookbook. Picture perfect. Not that you’ve had a steak in years, but it looks and smells amazing. All of a sudden your appetite is back, though you’re careful not to eat too quickly. This is far better food than you’re used to and you want to savor it.

“Oof.” Max winces slightly as he chews. “I think I pissed her off,” he grumbles. “She overcooked my steak.”

“Over—?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it and you clamp your mouth shut before you can speak even more out of turn.

“My steak is fine.” Eddie smirks. “Maybe you deserve to have your steak overcooked.”

When Max’s response is to pout, you look between the two men with curiosity. “Are you…family?” You ask, as politely as humanly possible while noticing the immensely familiar way they deal with each other. They must be brothers. Cousins, at least.

“Brothers.”

“Hell no.”

Both answers come out at the same time and each man turns to look at the other one before Max rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He sighs. “Brothers. He’s the younger, annoying at shit one. I’m the older, more handsome, more successful one.”

Eddie snorts, knowing full well that Max was only older when he was sired. As far as birth date goes, Eddie definitely has some years on Max. “Adoptive brothers,” Eddie explains, having already told you he had an adoptive father.

“Got it.” There it is. Brothers. You were right. “I was just curious.”

“Nothing wrong with being curious.” Max sincerely means that. He’s always been the curious type and he is curious about you. Cutting into his steak again, he prepares himself for the too done bite, wishing he had some wine to wash it down with.

“If we’re all going to live together I suppose we ought to get to know each other a little?” Although you could argue that you already know that you don’t think you like Max too much, your mother’s voice is in your head reminding you that it is important to give people the benefit of the doubt. You never know someone else’s story unless you take the time to get to know them.

Great, the conversation that Max doesn’t wish to have. “Nothing much to tell. Highly successful, kind of a stud.” He winks at you again. “Devilishly handsome of course.”

And an ego the size of the planet. It’s not exactly your favourite trait, and you smile weakly. “Are you from Rhode Island originally?”

“Hell no.” Max shakes his head and shrugs. “Michigan.”

“I’m from California,” Eddie offers, trying to make the conversation a little bit smoother. “Our family is varied. We’re from all over.”

You nod as if that makes all the sense in the world, even though you can’t figure out how a kid from Michigan got adopted by the same family as a kid from California. But maybe it’s none of your business. “I’m from Indiana,” you add, trying to be conversational. “Originally, I mean.”

“Yeah?” Max perks up at being in the same geographical area. “I would have assumed you were from Rhode Island.”

“Never been here before in my life.” Not that you can remember, anyway. You don’t think it was one of the vacations your family took when you were little. “I’ve lived in Indiana and Tennessee before this.”

“Why Tennessee?” Max ask, curling his nose slightly.

“College.” Even if the conversation is forced or even unpleasant, this food is amazing. You’re going to be writing Mrs. Taylor personalized thank you notes every single day if this is her standard cooking. And good food, apparently, lifts your mood. “It kind of happened by accident.”

“Like most things in life.” Max snorts. “Including me.”

“I…” You look between the brothers but Eddie is eating again and not terribly engaged. “Don’t think I understand?”

Max chuckles and holds up another bite of the steak. “I was an accident?” He says, his tone kind of questioning. “I’d have to ask my daddy.”

“Feel free to ignore him,” Eddie advises, shaking his head. “I usually do.”

“And that’s why you’re poor.” Max huffs. “Don’t take advice from him. He’s a college kid.” He makes a dismissive face. “What do college kids know?”

“Well, you seemed very proud of your degree.” You reason, looking between both men. College was some of the best and most formative years of your life, despite the hardship of having just lost your parents. “That means you must value what you learned in college quite a lot.”

You’ve got him there and he knows it. Opening his mouth for a sassy reply until he realizes he’s got no argument. Making him snap his mouth shut and eye you again. “You’re good.” He huffs, pointing his steak knife at you and shaking his head. “Gotta hand it to you.”

"My mother taught me never to criticize someone who was trying to better themself." Even mentioning her makes your voice a little smaller, but it's true.

“Sounds like she is wise woman.” Max hums. “Is she coming by soon?”

"She...died." You swallow the lump that appears instantly in your throat and look down at your empty plate. "Twelve years ago."

“Oh.” Max feels like a complete asshole. “I’m sorry.” He tells you quietly. Sincerely. “I lost my parents about eight years ago myself.” They weren’t dead but Max couldn’t have contact with them after he had become a vampire. However, it felt like they were gone. Especially since they hadn’t believed he hadn’t been guilty of academic dishonesty.

"I'm sorry to hear that." It's never easy to lose someone you're close to regardless of the circumstances. There is a lull of quiet at the table as Mrs. Taylor returns to sweep away the dinner plates and replace them with all with a dish of ice cold raspberry sorbet – or, what appears to you to be raspberry sorbet. You could never know from looking at the dishes that Max and Eddie's dessert is made with blood instead of raspberry puree.

“Best part of dinner.” Max groans, diving into the blood sorbet. You don’t know what it is and Mrs. Taylor would never mix up the dishes so both men are free to indulge. Eddie makes a noise of agreement as he also attacks the dessert. They usually have blood in their wine, so this is the first real taste of human blood they’ve had the entire meal.

“Mrs. T knows her stuff.” Eddie groans in approval. The housekeeper’s age-old trick of disguising the color and texture of blood to blend in with human food is well practiced at this point. “I take it this is a favourite?” It’s almost teasing, but after just one bite you understand. If this is homemade, that thank you note you were planning on writing Mrs. Taylor is going to become a raise in salary.

“Yessssssss.” Max is scraping the bowl for every drop and licking his spoon clean. “I could eat a gallon of it every night.” He snickers.

“Oh, positively.” Eddie agrees, making himself cackle at his own bad pun.

“I think it was ‘O’ tonight.” Max grins. “O-ficially, my favorite.”

Whatever the joke is goes right over your head but you smile anyway, wanting to be polite and not derail the end of the meal the way you had a few times earlier in the night. When he's not puffing up his chest with bravado, Max is okay to be around. So you just really want to keep things at an even keel.

“Well. I guess I’ll go scream into the abyss.” Max hums as he stands. “Dolly, it was interesting meeting you. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” He smirks. “Probably over a midnight snack.”

Interesting. Interesting is never the adjective you want used to describe you in a first meeting, and your forced smile is even more strained than it would have been otherwise. Bidding both men good night, you stand from the table and make straight for the stairs — resolved not to leave your room at all tonight. And maybe to go looking for a job anyway, just to get out of the house for a little each day.

“What is the matter with you?” Eddie hisses, angry that Max made you uncomfortable.

“What?” He shrugs innocently. “She’s gotta get used to bold personalities if she’s gonna fit in here.”

“She doesn’t have to fit in,” Eddie reminds him with utter exasperation. “This is her house!”

“And we live here.” Max shoots back. “Not like I want to, he’s making me.”

“Because you fucked up.” Eddie reminds him, arms folded across his chest. “You let your fuss with Evan get the best of you and you got staked, so yeah. Punishment sucks, but you’re lucky Father was there to bring you back otherwise you would have been actually dead.”

Max rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and huffs. “Yeah. Lost every goddamn good scar and tattoo too. And he won’t let me put the tattoos back.”

“You still have your birthmark.” His brother-by-siring reminds him gently. “You can still find them if you want to.” Soulmates are a sticky wicket for vampires, but it isn’t an impossible feat. After all — they’re only mostly dead.

“It’s whoever is my soulmate’s birthmark.” Max tells him. “I have no marks on this new skin.”

“The fewer ways there are to identify us, the better. You know that,” Eddie reminds him gently. “But it’s good that you still have her mark. You can find her if you want to.” He has his suspicions, honestly. There are some moments that Max let’s his guard down and his squishy, sentimental interior peeks through.

Max snorts but there’s not the derision behind it that there would normally be. “She’s human.” He reminds Eddie, frowning for a moment. “Why would I want a human soulmate?” It’s not the real question he has and has had since he was changed, but it makes him seem less vulnerable.

“It worked for our Father and Cookie. It’s not impossible.” Shifting back in his chair to stand, Eddie shrugs. “Who knows? Don’t they say opposites attract?”

Max sighs, forcing the sound out of his useless lungs. “Yeah.” He grumbles.

“You gonna go back to the office for that orgy?” One raised eyebrow is all Eddie offers, but he knows Max pretty well at this point. And the wind has been sucked out of just sails pretty hard since he got home.

“Of course I’m going to go.” Max scoffs like there was never a question of him going. “You should come too. Seriously. You need to get out and get some.”

“I’ll pass.” That’s never been Eddie’s scene, even though that makes him unusual in the vampire community. “But have fun. And don’t make me an uncle.”

“Hard to do when all the little swimmers are dead.” Max snorts.

“No siring!” Eddie reminds him, but Max is already headed for the door.

“No promises!” Max cackles as he sails out the door and lets it slam shut behind him.

******

You can hear the door slam from your room, the sound echoing up through the atrium of the Great Hall and reverberating through the walls. The windows in your bedroom face the sloping grounds of the house but you would bet anything that that was Max who just left – off to do god knows what, and you don't even know why you care to think about it. All you can do is shake the thought from your head and hope it stays out. When that doesn't work you wander down to the library to snag a book from the shelf and tuck yourself under a blanket on the chaise in your bedroom next to the window for the rest of the night. A distraction – any distraction – is better than the racing thoughts that are a constant barrage in your mind.

The room is lit up, almost a beacon when Max returns. Barely an hour later. He had found that when he walked in the door, the orgy already started, he wasn’t interested. Which in turn, pissed him off. Why wasn’t he interested? Had been before that dinner and now the blood he had drank seems to roll in his stomach. Walking closer the house and seeing that someone – you – is perched in front of the window, absorbed in a book.

The movement in the shadows below you doesn't do a thing to break your concentration. For the first time in ages you have all the time in the world to do what you want, and what you want is to travel back to Thornfield Hall with Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester. Nothing and no one is here to stop you, and that is a beautiful kind of miracle. The cup of cocoa that Renee brought up to you before saying good night is long since empty and you've added a second blanket to your cozy little nest to keep out the chill, but it's perfect. Nothing could disturb you right now.

You look like a princess in a tower. Even with the hollow-eyed looks that Max had pretended weren’t from a lifetime of abuse. At who’s hands is a guess, but there’s something about you that screams ‘please don’t’ and he is curious as to why.

Remaining oblivious to being watched is a blessing tonight. You shift on the chaise and readjust your position, laying your head on the top of the seat and cradling the book in your arms like it's the most precious treasure in the world. Today has been...stranger than you ever could have imagined. But like this? You can actually begin to think of a future where this house might one day feel like home.

One of the magical, mystical things about being a vampire is the ability to transform. He could become any creature that he wanted, but his overwhelming sense of sarcastic irony meant that he would become a bat. His body changing within moments, without the poof of smoke like in the movies, and he flaps his wings to get a closer look.

With the window open beside you, you feel the change in the breeze before you see anything different. A faint difference in the way the wind is blowing catches your attention, but doesn't distract you. What distracts is when you look out at the small balcony at your full-length windows and see a bat sitting there watching you with gleaming eyes.

Most people would probably be freaked out. Maybe even scream or recoil, or at least be startled. But you've always been a little bit more predisposed to things the world considers spooky than most, so you smile instead. If Disney princesses attract songbirds and wild forest animals, then you're surely just a Goth Disney Princess with a bat finding its way to your window instead of a cardinal or blue jay. "Hey cutie." You grin over at the little creature. "You live here too? Maybe in the attic or one of those big beech trees out back? I bet you do."

He’s surprised that you aren’t terrified of him. Most women would never talk to a bat but he finds it charming. He hops up onto the window ledge and flaps his wings, letting out a soft sound.

"You squeakin' at me, cutie?" Laughing softly, you briefly debate how bad of an idea it would be to let the little thing inside or even let it close to you. Bats carry diseases, don't they? Somehow you just can't bring yourself to care too much. This little buddy is too sweet.

He should be indignant that you, a mere human, isn’t terrified of him, but he flaps his wings again and decides that he will see how sturdy your resolve is. Taking flight, he circles your head twice before landing on your shoulder.

"Look who's a brave boy," you find yourself cooing to a creature that every single friend you've ever had would shriek at the actual presence of. The fact is, unless this little bat does something to harm you? It's just existing. Just trying to get by in a world that isn't necessarily always friendly towards creatures that aren't the most attractive or the most useful. And that...hits disturbingly close to home for you right now. "You wanna stay up there, cutie? Or do you want a little bed to snuggle up in?" Do bats snuggle? Who the fuck knows. But you still carve out a divot for it in your throw blankets all the same.

The fact that you are creating a little space in your lap for him making him smirk and trill. He doesn’t fly this time. He hops down your arm with the long, slow walk of the bats as they move over tree branches.

"Look at you!" The way you squeak in delight is almost the same as the little bat's sounds -- which you have to imagine are happy sounds. They sound happy, at least. "You want me to read to you, cutie? A little story time even though you have no idea what I'm saying?" You never thought the day would come that you wanted to pet a bat, but here you are. The little guy is just too stinkin' cute.

He trills again, grinning at how adorably you light up at his current form. None of the rounded shoulders and shy persona. He stomps around the little spot you made for him and folds his wings back as he stares up at you.

"Well go on, snuggle up." Somehow you could swear that this little bat can understand you, and it's the most peculiar thing in the world because you're not scared at all. Not even the smallest amount of apprehension in the back of your mind is there to cloud your enjoyment of this odd little moment. When the little sweetheart plops down in the middle of the nest that you made for him, you pick up your book rather dramatically and clear your throat. "It's called Jane Eyre," you explain to the bat, amused at the whimsy of the moment.

Of course you would read Jane Eyre. Max would roll his eyes in his human form but he just blinks and settles down into the little space you made him. It’s pretty nice to have someone not swat at him, or scream. He coos, wishing that you would pet him. That would make this even better.

"Let's see..." Finding your place on the page, you hum to yourself and settle in again with your back resting against the comfortably upholstered chaise lounge. "...a message came that I and Adele were to go downstairs. I brushed Adele’s hair and made her neat, and having ascertained that I was myself in my usual Quaker trim, where there was nothing to retouch — all being too close and plain, braided locks included, to admit of disarrangement — we descended, Adele wondering whether the petit coffre was at length come; for, owing to some mistake, its arrival had hitherto been delayed. She was gratified: there it stood, a little carton, on the table when we entered the dining-room. She appeared to know it by instinct." As you read, letting the feeling and comfort of the cool breeze wash over you and your new little friend, the fingers of your free hand find the bat's soft little head instinctively. So what if bats have diseases? You decide about three seconds after first stroking its little head. They're so soft and snuggly. I'll take antibiotics, but I'm keeping my little friend.

He’s almost surprised when you touch him and in the bat’s form, your fingers feel larger, yet they are gentle. Immediately pulling a sound that could only be described as pure pleasure out of him as his head moves towards your hand for more contact.

“Awwe, you like that?” It reminds you of the cat you had growing up, the way the little bat nudges into your touch, and you automatically open up your hand a little more to let it get comfortable for more scratches and pets as you continue reading.

Max could get used to this. Finding the relaxed and almost giggling persona of yours charming as you pet a bat. And the scratches he’s getting is like his own little personal massage. You obviously find bats to be cute and he doesn’t mind the reading so much now that you are petting him. Trilling and almost purring for you.

Sitting and reading a gothic romance novel to a bat might be the most edgy teen girl thing you’ve done in a hell of a long time, but before you know it the book in your hand is heavy and so are your eyelids. Who knows when it got to be so late, or when you got to be so tired, but falling asleep beside the open window with a happy little bat in your lap and an open book on your chest is the most contented you’ve felt in years.

Max listens to your heartbeat. Slow and steady in your chest. Nearly half as slow as when you are awake. Telling him that you have entered the dream world if you dream. He flutters his wings and moves off of you before he changes back to his human form. Staring down at you in confusion and contentment. It was the oddest evening he’s had in a long time, but probably the most satisfying. Defining you can’t sleep on the chaise, he uses the infinite strength of his kind to carefully scoop you up into his arms to carry you the fifteen feet to your bed. Tucking you in and watching you curl onto your side as he covers you up. Closing the window, he glances at you again before stealing out of your bedroom to make his way to his own, wondering if you will remember tonight when you wake up.

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #a mysterious inheritance

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artiststarme · 1 year

Text

Just Another Miscommunication

Based on a prompt given by @i-less-than-three-you! I hope it met your expectations! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve had never been so hurt and offended in his life. After several months of dating Eddie in secret from the rest of the Party, they’d decided to tell them. Things were starting to get serious and they knew it would only be a matter of time before someone found out and spilled the beans to the rest of the group.

Eddie had been a little nervous to come out, this was his first serious relationship in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana, he had a right to be worried. But Steve knew that everyone would take it well, they’d dealt with literal monsters so being gay in comparison had to be a smaller deal than that.

What Steve hadn’t anticipated was how many shovel talks he would receive. He expected the one from Wayne (although that one still hadn’t come), maybe even one from Dustin. However, the rest of them had been a bitter surprise.

His first shovel talk came from Robin. They’d been in the middle of a slow shift at Family Video when she decided to break the comfortable silence.

“Hey Dingus, you know that you have to be careful with Eddie, right?”

“Robin, he’s a great guy. He’s not going to hurt me or whatever else you’re afraid of-”

“No, no, no. I’m saying you have to be gentle with him. This is his first relationship so you have to be gentle with him. You have experience from dating half of the girls in Hawkins, he doesn’t have that. Just, be careful not to break his heart, okay?” She looked at him imploringly until he nodded.

“I’m not going to hurt him, Robin. We’ve been dating for months and we’ve never had a problem before. I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Okay, I just… wanted to make sure. Now, go rewind the tapes. We just got some more returns.” He groaned for good measure but moved along regardless.

The next one later that day was Hopper. He was leaning against the Beemer in the staff parking lot behind Family Video waiting for Steve to get off work.

Steve smiled at him and pranced over to give him a quick hug that wouldn’t impact either of their street creds. “Hey Hop, what’re you doing over here? Did I forget plans we had?”

“Nah kid, I'm just checking in. The kids said that you were seeing Munson now?” He cleared his throat and continued in a whisper. “You know, romantically?”

“Yeah, we’ve been dating for a few months. Why do you have a problem with that?” Steve glared at him while he waited for his answer.

“Of course not! I just wanted to check in with you. And uh, I wanted to remind you that the Munson kid has been through a lot. Just, just don’t hurt him, okay?”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “You’re the second person to tell me that today. I’m not going to hurt him, alright? I love him.”

“Yeah but things change, kid. You feel like that now but you might end up hurting him later. Just be careful, alright?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Good. Do you want to come over to the house for dinner tonight? I know El and Will would love to see you.” Hopper smiled and nudged his arm.

With his mood thoroughly dimmed, Steve shook his head. “Nah, I have to run some errands and then I’m just going to run home. I’ll see you around though.”

He said his goodbyes to Hopper and ran over to Melvald’s to pick up a prescription and a couple of snacks for his place. While he was there, he saw Joyce and decided to make some friendly conversation.

“Hey Mrs. Byers, how’s Will doing? Is he glad to be back in Hawkins? I know the kids like having him here to DM their nerd game.”

Joyce gave him a tight smile as she rang up his items. “Hi Steve. Yeah he likes it, I think he missed the boys, you know? Him and El weren’t big fans of California.”

“Yeah, I get that. Max always says it’s a lot hotter so I can’t even imagine. How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing well, thanks,” she said while scanning his various chips and snacks. “What’re all of these for?”

“Eddie. He can never choose just one flavor to munch on so I just keep a bunch on hand for him to choose from,” Steve answered, smiling at the thought of his boyfriend.

“You know, I've been meaning to talk to you about that,” she said, glancing around the empty store.

“Have you?” Steve asked apprehensively. He and Joyce didn’t get along super well so he was a little nervous for her to judge his relationship.

“Yeah. I want you to know that I support you guys and you both always have a safe space with me. But I just wanted to make sure that you took it easy with Eddie. That boy’s been through a lot and I know you didn’t always feel… accepting of queer relationships. Eddie is sensitive and you could really hurt him. So just, be gentle with him or I’ll have to send Hopper over to get your head on straight. Are we clear?”

Honestly, Steve was kind of lost but he nodded in spite of that. “Yep, crystal. I’m not going to hurt him, Mrs. Byers. Have a good day!”

Jesus Christ, did everyone think he was going to hurt Eddie? He knew that he made some questionable choices in the past as King Steve but he’d been trying to be better. Why couldn’t anyone see that?

When he got home, he saw various bikes laying all over his front lawn. Now, the kids could just want a pool day to get out of this disgustingly warm summer weather. However, if they were looking to give him yet another shovel talk, Steve might just lose it.

As expected, all of the kids were situated on his couch and turned to look at him when he walked in. They looked like they were staging an intervention for him.

“Okay look, I’m really not in the mood for this. If you want to use the pool, fine. But if this is yet another shovel talk to warn me not to hurt Eddie, you can leave.” Steve crossed his arms as he looked at them and only Max was brave enough to go against him.

“If you hurt Eddie, we’re going to have El open another gate to the Upside Down and feed you to a demogorgon,” she said in a deadpan voice with a blank face.

El snapped her head to look at her then back to Steve. “Steve, I will not. Max, Steve is like my brother. I will not feed him to a demogorgon.”

“What they mean to say is that we don’t want to see Eddie get hurt. If you hurt him, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands,” Dustin continued diplomatically. Both Lucas and Mike nodded but Will just shook his head in panicked confusion.

“Dustin, I thought we were coming here to congratulate him and tell him we supported him! Why are we threatening him? Steve won’t hurt him!”

The other kids argued that he definitely could and actions needed to be taken to prevent that. Will and El just kept trying to jump in and defend Steve.

And Steve just stared at them. “Okay, thanks so much for the threats. Everyone besides Will and El can leave. You can come back when you stop planning different ways to murder me when I hypothetically hurt Eddie.”

Steve gave all of the kids, besides Will and El, one last glare before he walked into the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Maybe that would ward off his approaching headache. He could hear muffled arguing from the living room where Will and El, his new favorite kids, were no doubt defending him. But alas a few moments later, he heard the noise stop and saw El pop her head into the kitchen.

“I am sorry Steve, Will and I thought that we were coming to congratulate you on dating Eddie. We did not know that they would threaten you. Friends do not threaten to kill other friends.”

“It’s alright El, it’s called a shovel talk. Usually a family member gives one to the boyfriend so they know not to hurt them. I got a lot of them today so I’m annoyed,” he explained to her gently.

“But, you will not hurt Eddie. You love him so why do people keep telling you not to hurt him?” She asked him in confusion.

“They care more about Eddie and they think I’ll hurt him,” his words visibly angered him so he backtracked a little bit. “It’s fine El, really. I’ll get over it.”

She moved towards him and pulled him into a hug. “I love you Steve and I do not think you will hurt him. Even if you do by accident, I will not feed you to a demogorgon.”

He barked out a quick laugh in surprise, “thanks El, are you and Will going swimming?”

“No, we are going home to paint miniatures for Will’s new DnD game. Would you like to come with us?” She pulled back from the hug enough to look up at him.

“Nah, I’m just going to relax here but thanks for the offer. Have fun, okay?”

“Okay Steve, thank you!”

Then, Steve was alone. He was emotionally exhausted and hurt. How could everyone, besides Will and El, believe he’d hurt Eddie? He’d changed so much over the years and now he felt like he was right back where he started. How could they have such little faith in him?

~*~*~*~

Eddie was expecting to spend a nice night with his boyfriend after a few long days without seeing him. Between work, spending time with the kids, and practicing with the band, it felt like forever since he’d gotten to spend any quality time with Steve. But when he walked through the ajar door of the Harrington home, he didn’t find a boyfriend that was happy to see him. Instead, he found Steve sitting on the kitchen counter with a troubled look on his face.

“Stevie, you alright? I hope it’s okay that I came in, the door was open,” he stepped closer to Steve and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “What’s going on?”

“Has anyone given you the shovel talk about dating me?” Steve asked him, his eyes staring into his eyes desperately.

“Um no, why? Should they have?” Eddie asked, confused.

“I don’t know, I guess not. Nearly everyone in the Party has given me one. Robin, Hopper, Joyce, the kids. Why haven’t any of them told you not to hurt me?”

“You want me to get threatened?” Eddie didn’t understand why Steve was so upset. Did he think that he was going to hurt him?

“No! I just- why does everyone automatically assume you’ll be the one to get hurt? Why won’t they tell you not to hurt me? That’s just as much of a possibility as me hurting you!”

“You think I’m going to hurt you? And you’re mad that no one else thinks so?” So Steve expected him to fuck this up?

“Yes!” Steve nodded at him.

“I would never hurt you Stevie and I’m upset that you think I would. Why would I do anything to ruin this? You’re so perfect Steve that I would never do anything to mess this up.”

“Ed-”

“No! What’s the point of dating at all if you’re just waiting around for me to break your heart? That’s all I do though, right? Eddie the Freak, destroyer of all things good. Is that it?” All of the happy feelings that Eddie felt when he first walked through the door were long gone now. What, Steve was just waiting for Eddie to ruin everything like he always did? What the hell.

“Eddie, that’s not what I meant!”

“Whatever Steve, I’m sorry that you’ve seen this coming the entire time and I’m sorry you were right. I should’ve known that I would fuck this up too.” With that, Eddie marched out of Steve’s house and directly to his van. Admittedly, he shouldn’t have left. He should’ve stayed and worked this out with Steve.

However, he didn’t want Steve to see the angry tears that streamed down his face on his drive home. He knew deep down that this was all a misunderstanding but Eddie couldn’t get over the fact that Steve was just another person that saw the worst in him.

~*~*~*~

Wayne walked into the trailer to find it completely dark and silent, both unusual for Eddie. His nephew constantly left all of the lights on regardless of whether he was in the room or not, a quirk that took a toll on both Wayne’s annoyance and the electricity bill. And silence was not a commodity often associated with Eddie. The boy was loud in all senses of the word so for the trailer to be quiet, devoid of guitar riffs or excited rambling, was worrying. With a peek out the door, Wayne saw that Eddie’s van was out there which meant that he was home.

When he looked into Eddie’s room, he saw a pathetic lump hidden under the covers with only an unruly mop of curls poking out. The covers twitched slightly as the lump sniffled. “Eds? Y’alright?”

“No,” he muttered, hiding his face deeper into his pillow.

Wayne sighed and kissed all thoughts of coffee and a nap goodbye. Nonetheless, he sat at the edge of the bed and pulled at Eddie’s shoulder until he turned over. His eyes were red and irritated and his skin was flushed. “What the hell happened to you? I thought you were spending the evening with Steve? He do something?”

Eddie’s face screwed up in sadness as more tears welled up in his eyes. “Why do you automatically assume Steve did something? I’m the one who always fucks everything up, Uncle Wayne. Me! Why is everyone threatening Steve not to hurt me?”

Wayne looked at him in bemusement for a moment. “So you did something?”

Eddie made a muffled noise of outrage and pulled the covers back over his face.

“Boy, I can’t help ya if ya don’t use yer words. Tell me what happened and we’ll fix it,” Wayne tried to reassure him.

“Everybody has been giving Steve the shovel talk and telling him not to hurt me. But no one has given me the shovel talk to tell me not to hurt him. So Steve was upset and told me that I would be the one to hurt him and he was offended that no one else thought so. And then he said that I would be the one to hurt him!”

Wayne just looked at him for a long moment before lightly smacking the side of his head.

“Hey, what the hell!” Eddie yelled in surprised anger as he yanked the covers off of himself.

“Don’t be a dumbass then! Steve was trying to tell ya that he was hurt and ya turned it around on him! The kid’s not saying that yer gonna hurt him, he’s saying he wants people to stop assumin’ he’ll be the one to hurt you when he feels so much for ya.”

“So he’s not saying that I’m going to fuck everything up?” Eddie asked quietly.

“I think he’s sad that everyone else is taking your side and assumin’ that he’s going to be the one that ruins things. He just needed ya to listen.”

“What have I done?! How do I fix this? Uncle Wayne, help me!” Eddie jumped out of bed and started pacing in front of him.

Wayne sighed again, he didn’t ask to be roped into these situations. “Look Eds, go to him and say that you’re sorry and you took it the wrong way. Then tell him that I gave you a shovel talk cause if you hurt that kid again, I’m gonna do more than smack ya upside the head, ya hear me? Now get goin’. Ya best stay over there so I can get some rest, alright?”

Eddie laughed and jumped off the bed, “thanks Uncle Wayne! You’re the best! I’ll go fix it and then tell you about it over carry-out later! Love you!”

Wayne shook his head as he watched Eddie run out the door, “love you too, kid.”

Both boys came back to the trailer a few hours later with takeout in tow. Eddie’s smile was beaming once again and Steve looked relieved. He gave Wayne a quick hug and a whispered thank you over the burgers and Wayne knew that they’d fixed things. There would be many miscommunications between the boys in the years to come but as long as they had Wayne to play interference, they’d be alright.

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viesanterieures · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐨 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏.

William Killick (The Edge of Love) x Reader

link to Part Two

note: This story is set in May 1936, William is about 27 and it takes place years before the actual movie.

summary: William Killick takes a break from his London life and spends a few weeks at the country estate of the wealthy Hallward family. The family take an instant liking to William and try to get him to marry their beautiful daughter Norma. Also on the estate is the reader, who works as a maid. When William receives anonymous poems, he ends up falling in love with the mysterious writer instead of Norma.

word count: 2000+

warnings: … none!

moodboard

"Excuse me sir, we've reached the end of the line." Yawning, William opened his eyes as he heard a voice behind him and stretched sleepily, curious to see who was speaking to him. A woman in a uniform with a dark skirt and matching hat stood beside him. "Are we there yet... What time is it?" he asked her. "It's just after half past seven, sir," the train attendant replied with a friendly smile. As William straightened up in his seat and then saw that the landscape before him had changed from the brown roofs of London to green hills and beautiful mountain scenery with small lakes. "My God... I must have slept for hours." The train attendant smiled at him kindly and wished him a good journey.

William felt the train slow down and grabbed his suitcase from the luggage rack. Once outside, he set it down on the floor and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh and the wind blew through his hair. Although he had never been to this place before, he had the strange feeling that he belonged here. He closed his eyes for a moment. The orange light of the setting sun shone through his eyelids. The green hills of the Scottish Highlands stretched out before him, surrounded by a light mist. Green meadows, colourful flowers and streams dominated the landscape. The sky was cloudless and the air smelled of fresh moss. William could hardly look away. It was so different from London. The grass rustled softly under his shoes as he made his way to his accommodation for the next few weeks.

Curious, he looked up at the big building. It was built entirely of stone, with small windows adorned with red, ivy-covered shutters that glowed in the evening sun. William dragged his suitcase up the stairs that led to a wide wooden door. The muffled sound filled the silence as William knocked on the door. It opened with a squeak to reveal an older, very elegantly dressed lady with shoulder-length curly hair.

"Good evening, you must be our new guest, Mr Killick, aren't you?" Her voice sounded friendly and welcoming. "That’s right. And you must be Margaret Hallward, the owner of the estate," William replied. The lady nodded. "I am. Come in, you must have travelled a long way, sir." William followed her into the warm house. Mrs Hallward disappeared for a moment behind a wooden counter and handed William a key. "Room seven is yours. The dining room is in the basement and the common room is on the second floor. Breakfast is tomorrow from seven to half past eight. YN, would you be so kind as to accompany our guest to his room? And take some of his luggage."

"Of course, Mrs Hallward," a quiet voice sounded behind them, and William turned around curiously. In front of them stood a young woman in a dark red apron and white blouse. William smiled kindly at her. "No, wait, I can carry that," he interrupted her when she tried to take the suitcase off. Shrugging her shoulders, she finally gave up and told William to follow her. They walked along a corridor decorated with old paintings and photos of the country estate and stopped in front of a room door with the number 7.

"Thank you so much, Ma'am," he said, putting the room key in the lock. The young woman smiled and wished him a good night before disappearing without another word.

****

William had slept very well that night. It was probably because he was quite tired from the long journey. When he finally entered the dining room for breakfast, it was already quite full. He took an empty seat at a table where an elderly man was still sitting, reading a newspaper.

"Tea, sir?" It was the young woman again who had shown him his room yesterday. "Yes, thank you“, he said. "What was your name again?"

"YN," she said quietly, and poured some tea into a small cup.

"Beautiful name."

William could clearly see her cheeks turning slightly pink at the words. "Thank you, sir." But they were interrupted by Mrs Hallward, who approached the table with a big smile. "Good morning, Mr Killick! Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, Mrs Hallward," he replied. "I don't think I've slept as well as I did this morning for months. So I'm really going to enjoy my holiday."

"I'm glad to hear that." She laughed. "Oh, I'd like to introduce you to someone, wait a moment." She turned to one of the tables and called out in a loud voice. "Norma! Will you come here, please?"

"Yes, Mother." A woman joined them at the table, she was about a year or two younger than William. She had white-blonde hair, red lips and was wearing an elegant purple dress with ornate embroidery. She was very pretty, William realised.

"Mr Killick, this is my daughter Norma. She lives in Glasgow at the moment, but is here for a few weeks. She grew up at the country estate. If you like, she can show you around the neighbourhood and the town."

"It would be an honour. How about we meet outside the estate at three this afternoon?," Norma chuckled softly as she twirled a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. William was very happy about the Hallward's hospitality and gratefully accepted the offer.

"But now we won't bother you any longer, Mr Killick. Enjoy your breakfast," Mrs Hallward said with a smile as she took Norma's arm and led her away from the table. As they walked, he heard them whispering to each other, catching bits of sentences like 'isn't he lovely' or 'he looks like a prince from a fairytale'.

Slowly, William turned in the direction where YN had last been, but she was gone.

***

William spent the morning in the garden of the country estate, sitting on one of the benches beneath a cherry tree. The weather was warm, and the birds chirped softly in the treetops. Eventually, he closed his book and stood up to return to the house. As he passed one of the large flower beds, he paused. He saw a person sitting there, gardening.

"Nice to see you again, Ms YN," he said kindly. She didn't seem to notice his arrival and jumped when she heard his voice behind her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," William apologised immediately. "It’s alright, sir," she said, turning her attention back to the bed.

"Call me William, please."

She immediately looked at him in surprise. She had never expected that. A gust of wind came up and brushed through William's dark hair, and his bright blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

"Shall I help you?" he asked her, pointing to the bucket of weeds. She immediately declined his offer. "No, William, you're here on holiday. Not to work." William shrugged. "Anything where I don't have to be in London is a holiday for me. I really love this city, it's my home. But sometimes I really need to go somewhere else." YN nodded briefly. "I've never been to London or any other big city. I imagine it's stressful."

He laughs and shrugs. "I can't deny that it's stressful sometimes." Slowly he knelt down beside her and began to pluck the weeds from the ground in front of him. "You don't have to do that," she said quickly. "It's alright," William replied quietly, continuing to work.

YN laughed. "This has never happened to me before. A guest helping me with my work. If Mrs Hallward finds out, she'll scold me." William smiled a little. "Tell her I did it voluntarily. "You already have enough work." When they were finished, the young woman smiled briefly, then took off her gloves, stood up and reached for the bucket. "I have to go now."

"Wait, don’t you want to stay here a bit longer?" William asked hastily.

"Sorry, I've still got a lot to do. But thank you for helping me, that was very kind of you." She waved goodbye to William and finally turned round. William looked at her for a moment, a bit disappointed. Then he glanced at his pocket watch and flinched. It was ten minutes past three, Norma was probably already waiting for him.

He quickly grabbed his book that was laying in the grass and hurried to the front gate. Norma was waiting there, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he finally greeted her completely out of breath. "Sorry I'm late."

She finally smiled and said in a friendly voice, "It's okay." Her hair was pinned up in an elegant braid, her lipstick was the same colour as the new pastel pink dress she was wearing, and she carried a matching handbag.

"I was in the garden talking to YN. I must have lost track of time."

One of her blonde eyebrows immediately raised again and she looked at him as if he had just said something completely stupid. "You're talking to household staffs? They're working for us, it’s far below our class."

He looked at her, confused. "But why shouldn't I talk to her? She's really nice."

Norma stayed silent, grabbed his arm and pulled him along without a word. She led him through the Scottish Highlands, down a small forest path, until the roofs of houses appeared in the distance. This had to be Tobermory. The air smelled of salty sea and a fresh breeze as they walked along Tobermory's coastal road, lined with colourful houses. High mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in a gentle mist. "Wow, it's beautiful!" marveled William.

"I know, right?" Norma replied giggling, taking his hand and pulling him towards a small café.

"My aunt works there," she said. "She makes the best cakes." They entered the café and sat down on a corner bench by a small window. "Norma, how lovely to see you again." A lady with bright red hair came up to them and pulled her niece into her arms, laughing. When she noticed William, she looked him over from head to toe, smiled and turned back to her niece. "And who is that handsome young man next to you? Did you meet him in Glasgow?" Norma shook her head, laughing. "No. He's a guest of Mother's. She asked me to show him around."

"Oh, how lovely. You know, Norma, it's time you got married. Can I bring you both some of my Dundee cake?" William frowned slightly when she mentioned marriage. Did the Hallwards already see him as their future son in law?

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the little café, William telling Norma about his home in London, his job, his family, and she seemed to be very interested. But William hadn't forgotten her nasty comment about YN. He was torn by Norma.

After they said goodbye that evening, William went to his room tired. In the corridor he saw Mrs Hallward talking excitedly to YN. "You forgot to fluff up the pillows in Room 9! How many times do I have to tell you?" she snapped at her in a harsh tone.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hallward, I..." But she didn't let YN finish, because when she noticed William, she put on a big smile again: "Oh, Mr Killick, how nice to see you. Did you have a nice day with Norma?"

"Yes, I did, thank you for asking," he replied. He looked at YN, but she avoided his gaze, holding a white sheet in her arms.

"You know, Norma is still unmarried and we're still looking for a suitable husband for her. Or do you already have a wife?" Mrs Hallward wanted to know. William shook his head slowly.

"She is such a beautiful young woman. But no man has ever met her standards. You're the first one she has shown interest in", the lady explained to him. "Come, YN, you need to get back to work now, the dishes need to be washed."

"Good night, William," YN said to him as he walked past, nodding to him.

"Good night," he replied.

As soon as he entered his room, he took off his jacket and shirt and yawned softly. He intended to read, but he was so tired that he just wanted to lie down in bed. Suddenly he heard something crunching under his feet and looked down in surprise. There was a small piece of white paper under his shoe. Someone must have slipped it through the gap under his door. He bent down and picked it up carefully. It was no bigger than William's hand, made of good quality and written in black ink.

Holding his breath, William began to read:

𝓣𝓸 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

ℐ𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒, 𝒶 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒷𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒.

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝒷𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒.

ℋ𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒.

Confused, he turned the letter over in his hands. Was it from Norma? But she had been with him all afternoon, hadn't she? Who else was writing him poems?

****************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you want a part 2, let me know! 🖤

Masterlist

#cillian murphy #cillian #cillian murphy ff #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #william Killick #william killick fanfiction #the edge of love

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trashpandato · 1 year

Text

Best Thing Ever

At first, Kara thinks it’s the Best Thing Ever.

“It’s free food, Lena!”

Lena just rolls her eyes and tells her to enjoy it while she can. It sounds a bit ominous but Kara doesn’t pay much attention to it because she is too distracted by the smell of the triple cheeseburger in her hand.

It starts almost immediately after the TV interview where Kara revealed her identity to the world. The next morning, the barista at Noonan’s insists on adding a couple of extra danishes to Kara’s usual order. On the house. Kara is caught off guard but smiles and thanks her for it.

Then, similar things happen at Kara’s favourite pizzeria, at the sandwich shop across from CatCo, at the ice cream truck in the park. Everyone either refuses to take her payment or adds a few extras to her order without charging her for those.

Best Thing Ever.

But the novelty of it all wears off quickly. It’s not that Kara doesn’t like the idea of free food. She does. She loves free food. But she knows the places she frequents are usually small, independently owned businesses, and when they continue to give her food without taking her money, she begins to worry about how it might impact their bottom line.

Not to mention, after a while having to do the whole “yes, I’m Supergirl” song and dance every time she just wants to grab a bite to eat gets a little…tiresome.

Which is why when Kara asks Lena out to dinner, as a date, she doesn’t pick the fancy steakhouse or the new farm to table restaurant that Lena told her about.

She picks Mr. Chu’s.

“I hope this is okay?” Kara asks, nerves audible in her voice. “I know it’s not fancy, and this is a date, our first official one, and you deserve the best, and this place has plastic table covers and only one kind of wine on the menu that I’m pretty sure comes from a box…”

“Kara, darling, breathe.”

Kara does and it helps. A little.

“I just, this is the only place in the city where they don’t care. About me.”

And it’s true. The first time Kara had walked into Mr. Chu’s after The Interview, she half expected a big to-do about it. But Mrs. Chu had simply nodded at her briefly and then returned to the task at hand. They treated her like they always have, friendly, normal, with the occasional extra fortune cookie thrown into her take-out bag, but that was something they did before, too.

A knowing smile settles on Lena’s face.

“It’s perfect,” she says. Like it’s simple.

“Yeah?”

Lena reaches out to cover one of Kara’s hands with her own. The move makes Kara look up and into Lena’s eyes, and as soon as she does, she understands. Lena knows. Of course she does, having lived her entire life in the spotlight. Kara can guess that public reaction to Lena appearing in a restaurant never quite included free treats, but Lena obviously knows how nice it is to be in a place where no one cares. Where they can just eat their meals, chat about their days, be with each other without interruptions.

Lena orders the (box) wine, steals at least three of Kara’s potstickers and smiles like she’s having the best evening, despite the loud clanking noises coming from the kitchen and the way her arms stick to the table at times.

Kara pays, with a very generous tip, of course, and gets the usual short nod from Mrs. Chu before they step out into the night.

She takes Lena home, and when she drops her off at her apartment, Lena leans in and kisses her. It’s short, light, but tastes like a promise.

“Wow,” Kara whispers, smiling and a little awestruck.

Lena just rolls her eyes, but it’s fond and her expression is soft and warm. “We’ll have to do this again. Soon.”

Kara can only nod.

Best Thing Ever.

#supercorp #kara x lena #free food and a date

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earthtoharlow · 1 month

Text

Flashing Lights

18) Easy

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

series masterlist

“I’m kinda nervous.” Jack said as he and Maryse walked up the sidewalk towards Maryse’s childhood home. He was meeting her parents for the first time and he was nervous as hell.

Maryse squeezed his hand and looked up towards him. “You shouldn’t be, seriously!” Maryse knew that her parents were going to love him, everyone loved him. There’s not a person on this earth that Jack couldn’t charm.

When they walked in her mom gave both of them a huge hug. Her laughter filled the entry way as she pulled Jack into a tight embrace. “I’ve heard so much about you!” She said, her eyes twinkling with mischief just like Maryse’s would. “You must be the one who stole my daughter’s heart!”

Jack grinned in response, his charm winning over her mom in an instant. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Monet!”

“Oh honey, that makes me feel old! Call me Margot.”

As they settled in the living room, Jack immediately stood when her father walked in the room. This was the moment he had been dreading the most. As they shook hands Jack couldn’t help but feel a pang of nerves. His nerves became worse when Maryse's father asked him to step outside with him.

“Dad!”

“I’ll be nice, I promise.” Maryse’s father said with a wink

Once outside, the two men were silent for a moment, enjoying the cool breeze blowing in the air. Maryse’s dad's gaze towards Jack softened with a knowing look. “I can tell just by how you look at my daughter that you love her,” he said, his voice filled with understanding.

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. He knew that his feelings for Maryse ran deep, but hearing her father acknowledge them so openly filled him with a sense of validation and reassurance.

Jack met the older gentleman’s eyes with sincerity, “Yes, sir,” he replied, his voice steady with conviction. “I love her more than words can express. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever known, and I’m grateful every day to have her in my life.”

A small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he said gently but firmly. “Loving each other is easy. It’s the simplest thing in the world, really. But sometimes, we have a way of making it harder than it needs to be.”

Jack nodded listening intently, feeling the weight of his words.

“And my daughter,” her dad continued, his voice softening with affection, “She’s a special one. She’s got a heart of gold, but it’s also fragile, you know? So I’m asking you to be gentle with it. Love can feel like a stranger to her because of how she’s been hurt in the past,” he said, his words carrying the weight of understanding.

Jack’s heart began to ache when he thought back to everything Maryse dealt with, with Nate. He knew she carried some of those scars.

“I understand, sir. I’ll do everything I can to show M that love doesn’t have to hurt or be toxic. It can be gentle and kind.”

A smile of approval spread across her dads face. “I believe you, just remember to be patient with her. Treat her with care and she’ll love you back fiercely in return.”

Maryse was slightly shocked when they walked back in the room with a smile on their face. Her dad’s stern demeanor softened as he announced to the room. “I like this one.” Clapping Jack on his back with a smile. “You’re alright, kid.”

“Thanks sir.”

“You can call me Murphy.”

“You didn’t threaten him did you?” Maryse quipped, half joking.

He chucked, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, you know me, sweetheart,” he replied with a grin. “I just gave him a friendly reminder of what’s at stake if he ever breaks your heart.”

Maryse rolled her eyes at her overbearing father, happy that he cared about her well being and happiness. Jack chuckled and made his way back over to the couch and enveloped Maryse in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.” He whispered softly.

A sense of contentment washed over Maryse. She knew that she had found someone special. Jack has successfully won over the most important people in her life. She couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life with him.

Maryse slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to the side, and quickly became disappointed that Jack wasn’t next to her. That dream had left her heart heavy. She couldn’t shake the sadness that lingered after.

With a heavy sigh, she wiped away her tears and tried to push the memories of her dream aside, knowing that dwelling on the past would only bring more pain. Maryse longed for the days when they were happy together, when their love felt effortless. Emptiness consumed her as she continued to face the reality of the breakup.

As she laid in the dark staring up at the ceiling couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever find a way to move on from the pain of their breakup, it had only been a month and she felt like she would forever be haunted by the memories of what could have been.

***

BREAKING: Jack Harlow And Maryse Monet Break up!!

In a shocking turn of events, the much-adored celebrity couple, Maryse Monet and Jack Harlow have reportedly called it quits! Sources say they broke up about a month ago and have been trying to hide it from everyone. Including friends and family. The two have unfollowed each other on social media.

Reports suggest that Maryse has been struggling to deal with the breakup, with eyewitnesses claiming to have seen her in tears during her recent concert performances when singing songs she wrote about the rapper.

While neither Maryse nor Jack have officially addressed the breakup, the news has sent shockwaves through their fan base. Many have taken to social media to express their disbelief and sadness over the apparent end of their fairytale romance.

Stay tuned for further updates as this story develops.

Jack’s heart sank as he read the article announcing their breakup. He was shocked that it took this long for the press to find out. Jack had to stop Neelam from putting it out there immediately.

Navigating his crazy tour schedule, he found himself engulfed in a relentless cycle of performances, interviews, and appearances. The demands of his career left him with little time to process the breakup.

The shows each night were a temporary escape. But the quiet moments between performances, the weight of his grief constantly threatened to suffocate him. Alone in his hotel room at night, surrounded by the silence of his thoughts.

His chest tightened as he scrolled further and watched the video of Maryse crying on stage, pain evident on her face. A surge of guilt washed over him. He longed to reach out to her to offer her comfort and reassurance, but a nagging fear held him back.

Jack knew that Maryse needed space to heal, to confront her own demons and work through her issues. And as much as he wanted to be there for her, he also knew that she needed to reach out first – that she needed to take the first step towards reconciliation.

The thought of her suffering alone tore at his heart, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over him. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything would be okay, but he knew that it wasn’t his place – not yet, anyway.

He had heard from Urban the day prior that they finally announced she was playing Princess Belle. Jack had clenched his fists in frustration, cursing the timing of their breakup and the distance that now separated them. He hated the fact that he couldn’t be there to celebrate Maryse’s achievement in person, to share in her joy and shower her with the love and support she deserved.

The more Jack thought about her the more upset he got. Overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, he felt tears welling up in his eyes, the ache of missing Maryse was becoming unbearable. He closed his eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they continued to flow unchecked down his cheeks.

Jack had his head in his hands when Urban unexpectedly walked into the hotel room with a grin on his face but it quickly faded when caught sight of Jack sitting on the edge of the bed with trembling shoulders.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Urban asked, concern lacing his voice as he moved closer.

Jack quickly wiped his eyes and put on a fake smile. He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, not even to Urban. “Yeah, man, I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice wavering slightly. “Just… you know, tour stuff.”

Urban raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by the deflection. But before he could press further Jack quickly hopped up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom, “I’ll be right down, I’m just going to use the restroom.” And closed the door behind him before Urban could even respond.

Jack leaned against the sink, his hands trembling slightly as he splashed cold water on his face. As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, the raw pain etched in his features, was a stark reminder of the heartbreak he had been trying so hard to bury.

He knew he couldn’t run away from the pain for much longer but he was going to stretch it for as long as he could.

***

CoCo stood in front of the doorway of the hotel room, her arms crossed and a look of determination on her face. “Alright, enough is enough,” she declared, her voice firm. “You’ve been moping around in bed for a month now when not performing, and it’s time to snap out of it.”

Maryse stayed curled up under the covers with tear stained cheeks, she groaned in protest. “I don’t feel like celebrating,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow.

CoCo rolled her eyes, refusing to be swayed by her gloomy attitude. “Well, tough luck,” she retorted, marching over to the bed and yanking the covers off with a swift motion. “You’ve just been announced as the lead in a live action Beauty and the Beast and you’re going to act like it.”

Maryse let out a frustrated sigh as she reluctantly sat up, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay,” she protested, her voice tinged with sadness.

CoCo softened her voice, kneeling down in front of her with a sympathetic expression. “I know it’s hard, Maryse”, she said gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But you can’t let this breakup consume you. You’re stronger than that, and you have a career to focus on.”

She nodded reluctantly, as she stared down at her trembling hands. “I just miss him so much,” Maryse admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know you miss him,” CoCo said softly, “but you’re never going to get him back if you don’t take care of yourself and heal from past trauma.”

Maryse knew deep down that she couldn’t continue to wallow in her pain and expect things to magically fall back into place with Jack. She needed to prioritize her own well-being and address the unresolved issues that had been weighing her down for far too long. “It’s like I’m scared of letting myself be happy.”

CoCo nodded in understanding, her expression filled with empathy. “You want a healthy relationship until one is sitting in front of you, then you don’t know what to do with it so you sabotage it,” she explained, her voice gentle yet firm.

It was true – she had spent so long yearning for real love after her breakup with Nate and when it finally presented itself to her, she had struggled to fully embrace it. Instead, she had allowed her insecurities and fears to drive a wedge between her and Jack sabotaging their relationship in the process.

Tears welled up in Maryse’s eyes, she had pushed away the one person who had truly cared for her, all because she didn’t know how to handle the intensity of her own emotions. “I don’t know why I do it,” she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion.

Her manager reached out and gently squeezed her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Maryse,” she said softly. “We all have our demons to face. But you have to remember that you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to have love in your life.”

Maryse sighed heavily knowing she was right. “What should I do now?” she asked. “I feel helpless.”

“You’ve gotta pick yourself back up, Maryse,” she said gently. “Become a better version of yourself, and put all your emotions into your music. Let it be your therapy, and your outlet for healing.”

She nodded, she knew that she needed to channel her pain into something constructive.

“And as for your broken relationship,” CoCo continued, her tone filled with wisdom, “it’ll fix itself when it’s ready. Love has a funny way of finding its way back to us when we least expect it. But in the meantime, focus on yourself and your music. That’s where your strength lies.”

Maryse nodded knowing CoCo was right but that didn’t make the breakup hurt any less. The sting of heartbreak was still fresh and overwhelming, but she was going to do what CoCo said because she wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to be able to handle the ache in her chest.

***

AN: I can’t handle this 🤧 tell your thoughts thank you for reading!!

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@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @snows-blog-of-fiction @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @vinniehackersbaee @daphnescorner

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst #Jack Harlow black oc #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x oc #black reader #flashing lights

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