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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?”

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts.

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?”

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.”

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.”

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars.

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know.

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy.

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?”

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?”

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.”

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.”

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable.

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature.

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.”

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends.

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second.

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie.

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet.

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?”

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.”

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way.

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words.

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.”

“What’s there to discuss?”

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?”

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?”

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room.

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time.

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.”

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight?

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant.

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.”

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?”

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked.

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone.

“You sure?”

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering.

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy.

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more.

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington.

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.”

You’ve never been so short with your friends.

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off.

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?”

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues.

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.”

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.”

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker.

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?”

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.”

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie.

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face.

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.”

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping.

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him.

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever.

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?”

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space.

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation.

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him.

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?”

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends.

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.”

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment.

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.”

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think.

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie.

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on.

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.”

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants.

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra?

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one.

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.”

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases.

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line.

It almost makes you smile. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now.

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.”

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you.

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.”

“Oh, you must see the irony there-”

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.”

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it.

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?”

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.”

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily.

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.”

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror. The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand.

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate.

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?”

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point.

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose.

We really need to just buy a second helmet.

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it.

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly.

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words.

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.”

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found.

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?”

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?”

“That’s my shirt.”

“What?”

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.”

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you.

Bastard.

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.”

—

You were wrong. They do notice.

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other.

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?”

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely.

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric.

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good.

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly.

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.”

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?”

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.”

Ah, fuck.

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck.

Fuck.

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier.

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s.

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid.

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead.

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away.

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.”

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey.

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance.

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed.

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.”

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself.

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.”

“Is that a good idea?”

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots.

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly.

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?”

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames.

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight.

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?”

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie.

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is.

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough.

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything.

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?”

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-”

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?”

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss.

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!”

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly.

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.”

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?”

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look.

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-”

“Holy shit.”

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-”

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no.

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly.

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?”

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm.

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones?

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.”

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out.

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.”

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!”

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is.

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten.

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble.

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?”

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds.

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him.

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.”

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him.

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him.

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips.

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good.

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.”

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval.

Well, so much for next time.

You give him a little nod.

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything.

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary.

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!”

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.”

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.”

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?”

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?”

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home.

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air.

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him.

And the feeling was mutual.

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real.

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.”

“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?”

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.”

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more.

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier.

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had.

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?”

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“How’d you know?”

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.”

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.”

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.”

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.”

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment.

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat.

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now.

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week.

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time.

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real.

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup, “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.”

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months.

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him.

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?”

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind.

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you.

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.”

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult.

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots.

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot.

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.”

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.”

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass.

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.”

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.”

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do.

And yeah, you did know what to do.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.”

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues.

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back.

Next time. You have to tell him next time.

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly.

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind.

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her.

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless.

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun.

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars.

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you.

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie.

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves.

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“

Now. Not later, not next time. Now.

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike.

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?”

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-”

Why is this so hard?

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy.

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right.

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him. It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was.

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily.

Loving Eddie is easy.

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him.

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year.

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life.

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.”

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you.

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours.

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.”

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.”

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself.

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.”

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?”

“They do.”

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be.

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off.

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo.

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!”

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other.

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable.

Finally.

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking.

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly.

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.”

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home.

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.”

His lips meet yours for good measure.

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

#twenty four hours #eddie munson #my writing #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #i cannot believe it's over holy shit #holy fucking shit #told y'all the photo would make a reappearance!#im resisting the urge to be so so sappy jesus christ

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luvyeni · 3 months

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p. boyfriend!bang chan x fem bodied reader | warnings: none , it's probably like the fluffiest thing i've written so far | words: 0.3k ~ (353) 🐺ㆍ₊⊹

Based on this tweet here , I saw it and they couldn’t be 100% correct.

I present chan and the orange peel theory…

You were sitting on the couch — feet up as you scrolled through your tiktok on your phone, chan was sitting right there, working on a song since he had his headphones plugged into the laptop.

You were randomly scrolling when you came across a random video of a girl talking about something called the orange peel theory — where you’d test your partner by seeing if they’d peel an or for you without you asking.

Normally you wouldn’t bother him for a while, but he’d been working for a while and you thought he could use a break — so you turned your camera on, before tapping his side with your foot. He turned to you with a smile, taking his earphones out. “you okay baby?” you nodded, he was already so cute. “could you get me a orange?”

He looked at you confused. “a-an orange?” you nodded. “okay baby.” He sat his computer down, standing up —making his way into your kitchen. “Do we even have oranges?” you heard him say. “did she buy oranges?” you bit back a giggle. “ah one more, thank god.”

He went silent for a minute, so you were assume he was just peeling it, so it already made you smile. “you okay baby?” you asked. “yeah, give me a second.” He said, you then heard him giggling which made you curious but before you could get up , you heard him shuffling back. “here you go baby.” He handed you a plate.

You took the plate, looking down immediately smiling — he had arranged the slices into a eye like smile. “is that what you were doing?” you laughed. “what you said you wanted oranges.” He sat back down. “speaking of why did you suddenly want them?” he asked — he listened to you explain the video you saw with a smile on his face. “so I passed the test?” he said with a giggle.

You picked up a picked up a slice, feeding It to him — giving him a kiss on the lips, picking up one putting it to your mouth, eating.

“you passed with fly colors baby.”

©️LUVYENI

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writethrough · 1 year

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Bad Boy Type

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: Girls' night at Billy and Max's new place takes a turn when El insists on you marrying Billy.

Warnings: Mentions of Neil, extreme fluff, mutual pining (because I'm a whore for that shit), language

Word Count: 4056

A/N: This might be the fluffiest thing I've written. It's also the longest. And yes, I still have requests to finish. But life really said, "It's Billy's time," and I'm not mad about it.

You were fiercely protective over Max and El since you met. They became the younger sisters you never had. You’d do anything for them. And you always made sure to plan something with them as often as possible.

Today, you three were holed up at Max and Billy’s new place. It wasn’t much. It was a steal since it’d been so run down no one else wanted it. You and the rest of your group helped fix up what you could. After everything you’d all been through, it created an untouchable bond. And everyone was eager to help in whatever way they could, especially once Max confided in you about Billy’s father. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Neil was a shitty person. He gave off enough hostility to power a freight train. A few months after renovating, the house was finally livable. And between your car and Billy’s, they moved within the hour.

All three of you were on the floor around the coffee table, snacking on candy and discussing very important business.

“Okay, okay,” Max said, trying to rein in her laughter. “El, kiss, marry, kill…The Outsiders.”

You grinned and leaned closer as El looked down in thought.

“Kiss Sodapop, marry Johnny, and…I don’t want to kill anyone,” she said timidly.

And because it was El, you and Max accepted that.

You faced Max. “I’m guessing yours would be the same?”

“I’m killing Steve,” she added, and you snickered. “What about you?”

You hummed, running through the characters before picking three.

“Kill Two-Bit, kiss Darry, marry Dally,” you said with a nod.

“Dally’s an asshole!” Max groaned, slapping her thighs.

“But he’s hot,” you countered.

“But he’s an asshole,” she repeated, giving you a look.

“But he’s hot.”

After a few seconds, you all started giggling. You really loved spending time with these two.

El grew quiet, deep in thought, and she made you and Max stop laughing with her question.

“What about Billy?”

Your brow furrowed. “Billy?”

She nodded. “Would you marry him?”

Your face grew warm. Did El think because you liked the bad boy character in a film, you liked one in reality?

Billy had never been outright rude to you—his attitude rubbed you the wrong way—cocky and smug like he knew he could get away with almost anything. It wasn’t until after the Mind Flayer that you befriended him.

You’d describe your friendship as…quiet. You didn’t hang out together—only in a group with everyone or Steve and the other adults. Usually, though, you saw him most when you, Max, and El hung out.

You were the girls’ friend first and foremost. When you started picking Max up when they lived with their parents, he always scowled at you through the door as she raced to your car. Later, you thought it had something to do with Neil’s reactions to his stepdaughter not being home even though he knew where Max was. You had enough knocks on the door from Billy to put two and two together.

Now, Billy was relaxed when you picked her up or stayed over. You sometimes wondered if he was glad Max had you to rely on now that it was just him and his stepsister. If she ever needed anything, he could count on you to lend him a hand.

So while he wasn’t the same rage-filled boy you knew in high school, his reputation still preceded him. Though now you knew him in a different light—provider, protector, and maybe that was why you started to like him.

You shook your head to rid yourself of that thought.

“I…Well, I…I don’t…” Jesus Christ! How were you supposed to answer this without giving yourself away?

Just then, a car door slammed. Billy’s home.

He threw his jacket on the hook and his keys on the table and stopped when he noticed you, Max, and El.

His eyes seemed to linger on you before addressing everyone.

“Hey,” he said, mentally kicking himself. Couldn’t he think of anything better to say? Maybe “you look nice,” not “hey.”

“How was work,” you asked, still trying to shake off El’s question and the fact that he walked in as if summoned.

“Fine. Didn’t know you’d be over.” He would've cleaned up and made it look nice. Maybe then he could cook you dinner.

He had to stop from asking if this little get-together was overnight. He sure hoped so.

“I dragged her out of her house for girls' day. They’re sleeping over, too,” Max said. Maybe she could read his mind—maybe that was why most of your time was spent at Billy’s place and not yours—because Max knew he needed an excuse to talk to you since the Mind Flayer.

He nodded slowly and gestured toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Order pizza or I can make spaghetti?” he asked.

You tilted your head at his words. Billy cooked?

It made sense. You’re sure he’s had to fend for himself most of his life. You just never thought about him in the kitchen.

Before you could say anything, El said, “I like spaghetti.” And that seemed to settle it.

When Billy left, Max leaned forward. “Don’t worry, he’s actually a really good cook.”

And to play off your daydreams of Billy cooking you breakfast, you said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

—

When Billy emerged from the steamy bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, you were both relieved and disappointed your back faced him.

The girls were telling you their boyfriend troubles, and it took everything in you not to imagine the remaining water tracing Billy’s toned stomach.

“Sometimes I think you have the right idea,” Max said, flopping back in the chair.

You blinked, coming back to reality. “Me? What idea is that?”

“Being single.” She shrugged. “Boys are a pain in the ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “While that is true, sometimes I think it’d be nice to have my person, you know?”

“Your person?” El asked, furrowing her brow.

“Someone who’s always there for you, no matter what. They accept every part of you, good and bad.” You sighed. “They're the person you want to be around the most.”

She looked at you seriously. “We are your person.”

It nearly brought tears to your eyes. One of the many reasons you loved El was her heart.

“C’mere,” you whispered, holding open your arms.

She scootched toward you and wrapped her arms around your waist.

“You too.” You motioned Max over.

That’s how Billy found you three, hugging each other on the couch like you were trying to absorb into one being.

“Am I interrupting some girl thing?” he asked, opening the cabinet.

You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “No, you’re fine.” You looked over the back of the couch. “Anything I can help with?”

He gave you a flirty smile. “Don’t worry. I got it.”

It didn’t take long for him to announce it was ready, and you all grabbed your plates and huddled around the coffee table again. A little thrill went through you when Billy sat beside you, taking your dish from you and setting it down so you could lower yourself.

It was quiet for a few minutes as you all took your first bites. It was only pasta and marinara sauce, but it hit the spot. Maybe it was because Billy made it.

“I’m impressed,” you said, waving your fork around your plate.

“I’m a man of many talents,” Billy mused, warmth blooming in his chest.

“Does this mean you’ll marry Billy?”

You nearly choked on the bite you took. You wished she could read minds so you could scream, “Not the freaking time!”

Billy’s face flushed as he glanced between you two.

“Am I missing something?” He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating. You wanted to marry him? Well, no. It sounded like you didn’t want to marry him. Why didn’t you want to marry him?

“No,” you said quickly. Billy tried to convince himself his chest didn’t constrict at that word.

“(Y/N) would marry Dally,” El said. “And Dally’s an asshole.”

You put your face in your hands. There was no stopping her.

“And I’ve called you an asshole so many times.” Max provided as an explanation.

Billy could only look at you, and as you curled further in on yourself, he smirked—even though he’d been called an asshole twice—maybe there was something to El’s question.

“Didn’t think you were into that type,” he said, leaning back against the couch.

“I’m not. Not really.” You couldn’t look at him, opting to push the noodles around your plate.

“No? Then what is your type, sweetheart?”

He was teasing you. You could push back with teasing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.” And the way he said it, it took on a seriousness you weren’t prepared for—like he really wanted to know because he cared about the answer. Like it meant something to him.

“I—”

The phone saved you. And Max jumped up.

“It’s probably Lucas,” she said. They’d been having a good week.

You took the opportunity to excuse yourself. “I’m gonna change.”

You grabbed your things and closed the bathroom door.

—

Billy watched as you fled. It was cute how flustered he could make you. And that’s when an idea struck him.

With you and Max busy, he turned to El.

“You think she likes me?” he asked, leaning toward her.

“Do you mean like like?” She stared at him with those big innocent eyes.

He nodded.

“I think so.”

“You think so? She hasn’t said anything to you or Max? Girls talk about that stuff at girls' night, right?” He bit his cheek. Was he reading the signs wrong? Were his feelings clouding his judgment?

Since his recovery, you’ve always been there. You made sure he took care of himself and kept an eye on Max. When he told you about the rundown little place he found, you got Hopper on board to pull a few strings and help remodel. Hell, you got everyone to help.

He still remembered the day you painted the walls, and you and Robin put handprints on each other's chests. He and Steve had said, “What about us,” and you and Robin fitted them with their own set. He still had that shirt.

Even the shit that went down with Steve. You were somehow able to mend things between them. It took a lot of work, and arguments popped up, but with you there, he did it. He didn’t have many friends at Hawkins High—they were a means to an end. However, now? He had ones that would have his back in an apocalyptic world. And it was because of you.

You were his rock, even if you didn’t know it. And he wanted to be that person for you.

“She doesn’t tell us,” El said. “But she looks at you the way Nancy looks at Jonathan.”

He knew the look she was talking about, and he hoped she was right.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You…You like her, right?” she asked tentatively.

He smiled fondly. “More than Eggos.”

El giggled.

He shook his head slightly, smile remaining, mumbling, “Just want her ‘round all the time.”

She beamed, but before she could say another word, you and Max returned.

—

Everyone seemed to forget about the conversation before the phone rang. When you came out of the bathroom, El asked if you could start watching movies, and Max quickly put The Karate Kid in.

What surprised you the most was Billy making popcorn and bringing everyone a soda. You thought he’d retreat to his room like he usually did, but he sat next to you on the couch as the girls spread out on the floor with their own bowl of popcorn.

Halfway through the movie, the sun had set, and the air grew cooler. You rubbed your arm absentmindedly, focused on the screen. You vaguely noticed Billy disappearing somewhere, and when he returned, he held a sweatshirt.

Your heart sped up a little at his offer.

You played it off and raised an eyebrow when he handed it to you.

“You’re cold, right,” he asked, putting it in your lap when you didn’t take it right away.

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I’m just shocked you own a sweatshirt.”

He rolled his eyes but held back a smile. “Very funny.” Then when he was settled. “Indiana’s fucking cold.”

You slipped it over your head, the material warming and engulfing you in his scent. Bunching the sleeves into your fists, you leaned against the cushion and tucked your legs under you.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The movie soon ended, and Max inserted the second film.

Neither you nor Billy spoke after that. It was…nice...being there with him.

Between him and his sweatshirt, you were surrounded by warmth. The noise from the TV lulled into the background, and before you knew it, you were asleep.

Billy noticed almost immediately. He’d been arguing with himself about whether to put an arm around you after he gave you his hoodie.

After the shit he went through, Billy didn’t go after women. He was so in his head about what he’d done—what the monster made him do—he thought everyone was better off if he stayed away. And his body wasn’t the same afterward. Part of him wondered if you’d recoil if he touched you.

And then your head was on his shoulder. Your soft breathing in his ear. And he froze for a second. But then he sunk into you.

If this was the only time you’d be this close to him, he would take it.

He carefully moved his arm to pull you closer, and you shifted in your sleep to snuggle into him. He let his cheek rest against your head for one…two…three…four…five seconds, then lifted back up. He didn’t want Max or El to catch him and ask questions.

It wasn’t long until the movie ended, and the girls were passed out on the floor. And Billy debated staying right where he was, but he knew he shouldn’t.

He did indulge and place a feather-light kiss on the crown of your head before laying you down and pulling a blanket over you. He did the same for El and Max. And once the VHS was safely back in its case, he walked to his room with a final look at you thrown over his shoulder.

—

When the rising sun hit your eyelids, all you wanted was to turn over and go back to sleep. The sizzle of a frying pan and the smell of pancakes made you sit up.

Billy was by the stove, waiting to flip them and keeping a watchful eye on the bacon.

“Smells good,” you whispered, mindful of the two sleeping girls. Billy’s sweatshirt protected you from the morning chill.

He glanced at you and quirked his lips up. “It’s almost ready.”

You gave him a small smile in return, and it took you a moment to realize he had never done this before. Dinner was one thing, but breakfast was entirely different.

“What brought this on?” you asked, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

He shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to impress you again.” He finally turned around to face you and crossed his arms, spatula in hand.

You let out a breathy laugh, looking down before eyeing the cooking pancakes.

“Don’t let them fold in on themselves when you flip them, and you’re golden,” you teased.

He raised a brow at you, turned around, and seamlessly flipped both over before setting the spatula down and facing you once more.

You held your hands up in surrender. “Consider me impressed.”

“Good.” He pulled a mug out of the cabinet for himself. “You sleep okay?”

You shrugged. “Good enough. Didn’t even realize I fell asleep.”

He would have gladly lent you his bed. He didn’t even need to be in it with you. He would’ve taken the small couch he had crammed in his room.

“Good thing you don’t snore. I think Max would’ve suffocated you,” he said.

You bumped your shoulder with his. “She likes me too much.”

You stared at each other for a moment. Something about Billy in the morning, with the soft light from the sun reflecting in his eyes and shading his hair, was almost breathtaking. He was relaxed, and you hoped it slowly became his new normal.

His eyes trailed down to your lips, and you swore you stopped breathing until you glanced away and saw the pancakes.

“Better watch before they burn,” you said, swallowing to rid yourself of your dry throat.

He had forgotten about them as he took you in. From your pajamas to your still-sleepy gaze and the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—you seemed so…at home here.

He tried to shake that thought as he plated breakfast and set it down at the kitchen table.

You could lean against the counter every morning, sipping coffee as he made you both breakfast. He’d peck your lips each time he passed you for something, and as he waited for things to finish cooking, he would wrap his arms around your shoulders and bury his nose in your hair. Your arms would tighten around his waist, and you’d both stand there, completely content as the warm rays filtered in.

Since last night, since El’s question, a spark had ignited within him. The flicker of…hope, something he hadn’t felt since…since…he didn’t even know when. You didn’t say you wanted him explicitly, but if El saw a connection between him and Dally, then maybe you did too. He couldn’t deny that he’d been a dick in the past. He was still trying to correct those mistakes. But where Dallas Winston had Johnny, Billy had…well…the closest he could think of was you.

And potentially having a life with you? That didn’t sound too bad. Not at all.

You sat across from one another. You could feel Billy’s eyes on you. When you glanced up from your breakfast, he gave you a smirk as if to say, “Impressed?”

You were about to speak, but he beat you to it.

“So, we didn’t finish our discussion last night.”

“Discussion?” You tilted your head.

He nodded and tried to keep his smug smirk at bay. “You into the bad boy type, sweetheart?”

Your eyes widened before you covered your face with your hand. “Didn’t the time for this pass?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “C’mon, tell me, what’s it about him that gets you goin’?”

You shook your head and attempted to suppress your smile. Even though this was embarrassing, you still found Billy cute.

“I’m not doing this with you and that dirty mind of yours. It’s too early. Besides, the girls are still sleeping,” you said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh please, Max used to hear me with girls.” He stated it like a fact, without pride or accomplishment in his voice.

“I know. She’s complained to me multiple times,” you said matter-of-factly.

He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing pink. It surprised you.

He shrugged as if to shake off his actions. “Guess Winston and I are different then.”

“That’s not such a bad thing.” You hoped your smile told him that it really wasn’t a bad thing—that you genuinely liked the person he was growing into—that you cared for him.

“Hope so,” he said softly, taking a bite.

You could’ve stayed there and stared at him for the rest of the day. His eyes were so blue, his hair still a bit messy, and he just looked…he just looked content.

You wanted to reach across the table, grab his hand, hold it between yours and trace each finger. Maybe he’d stop you by pulling your hand to his lips. Maybe, you’d follow with your own.

And as soon as that thought reared its head, Max and El strolled into the kitchen.

“You made pancakes?” Max’s face scrunched up.

“We have guests,” Billy said with a shrug. Like he was concerned with being a good host.

At least for you, he was.

“When has that forced you to do anything?” she asked, stacking her plate.

You locked eyes with Billy from across the table and smiled shyly.

—

“So, you coming here next week?” he asked, putting your bag in the backseat for you.

You shook your head. “It’s at mine next week. Parents are away for a few days. I was thinking of making it an all-weekend thing.”

He slowly nodded, disappointed he wouldn’t see you—only to drop Max off and pick her up.

“Just let me know when I can get the shitbird out of my hair.” It’s all he thought to say to hide his discontentment.

You pursed your lips. It was now or never. “Actually, I was thinking—if you weren’t too busy, maybe you could come over, too? I know it’s technically ‘girls' night,’ but…last night was really nice.”

He tried to keep his face neutral, make it seem like he wasn’t experiencing heart palpitations, but his smile couldn’t stay hidden. It made you immediately relax.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

The way he looked at you sent shivers up your spine and heat through your veins. It was like he couldn’t believe you were real. You’d never seen him have this warmth in his gaze. Like he’d happily follow you anywhere and listen to every word you said.

You returned his smile with a gentle one of your own. “Good,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly.

He really was beautiful in the sunlight. His skin full of its own sun. You were so close to each other earlier that you felt it radiating off him. It took everything in you not to rest your head on his shoulder and nuzzle in.

He took a step forward, resting a hand on the roof of your car. “You gonna make me sleep on the floor at yours?”

You lightly bit your lip. And fuck, you were in for the best kind of trouble. “Depends on how much you impress me.”

“And what do I have to do to make that happen?” There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do.

You tried to repress your smile as you leaned to whisper in his ear. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips. He shivered when your breath hit his skin.

“You’ll have to figure it out.” You pulled back with a little smirk, and he let out a soft chuckle.

His gaze flitted from your eyes to your lips and back again. His hand came up to caress your cheek, grazing his thumb there.

“Not even a little hint?” he asked teasingly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You pushed your head further into his hand.

He hummed. “Guess you’re right. Have to earn it.”

You grinned. “I have complete faith in you.”

And even though you were both joking with each other, that meant more to him than he would ever admit. You believed in him. You had gotten to know him and helped him through the hardest parts of his life without even knowing it. He wanted to prove to you that trust wasn’t misplaced. That he deserved your patience, your kindness, your love.

Without another thought, he pulled you into his embrace. He held onto you like he was afraid to lose you—like you’d suddenly change your mind and not see him.

You could feel it in the way he held you. You struck something, something crucial, something he needed to hear. So, you hugged him back, smoothing your hand up and down his spine.

When you pulled away, you slipped your hand into his. “I should probably get going.”

He nodded. “Get home safe.”

“Thanks, Billy,” you said. “I’ll see you next week.”

Before you could step around him, he encircled your wrist gently and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“See you next week, sweetheart,” he said, a smirk slipping back onto his face.

You shook your head slightly as you climbed into your car, waving to him as you pulled out.

He stood there, watching you drive further away from him. And he knew you two were about to be much much closer.

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove deserved better

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jinnie-ret · 5 months

Text

THE TUTOR

poly!stray kids x reader

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: toxic relationship (not with SKZ)

word count: 5.4k

summary: becoming lee felix's tutor was quite possibly the best decision she could have made. toxic exes, university assignments and a whole lot of confusing feelings, how does skz fit into this equation?

collab w/ @astraykidforsure

I've absolutely loved working on this with my gorgeous talented pookie! I think it's my fav fic written ever so to have collabed on this was so fun to share our ideas together and give you this!!!

Here is our other fic here which you can find on her page! It's the cutest fluffiest Christmas fic ever so I hope you enjoy :)))

MAIN MASTERLIST

Handing in the penultimate assignment of the year, Y/N couldn't hide her sigh of relief when she gave her paper to her professor. She had given everything to this piece of work, sleepless nights, even forgetting to eat sometimes too, as she was so caught up in her studies. It happened that just as she was handing in this assignment, she was given her results of the previous one she had done. Feeling as if it had been ages ago since she had completed it, Y/N was pleasantly surprised to see the number on the document her professor handed to her.

"85, that's another 'first', top grades as always, Miss Park," Mr Jung, Y/N's English Literature professor grinned at her proudly as he handed her paper back to her.

"Thanks Mr Jung!" Y/N grinned happily, always one to be energetic and bubbly no matter what kind of hurdle was in her way.

"Now, I look forward to reading this one here... but I have one request," Mr Jung pushed up his glasses as he gently placed down her recently finished assignment onto his stack of others he would be due to read.

"Oh, what is it?" Y/N pursed her lips curiously, hands behind her back as she wondered what Mr Jung was about to tell her. She was very much so looking forwards to a small break so hopefully whatever he said next wouldn't be something that would consume a lot of her time.

"One of the students in our class, Lee Felix, I assume you know him? He's falling behind, and I thought you'd be the perfect student to help him. So what do you say?" Mr Jung proposed the idea to Y/N of becoming Felix's tutor.

This wasn't exactly what she expected. Lee Felix? Everyone on campus knew him and the friend group he was a part of. You couldn't not know him. He stuck out especially to Y/N, not just because of the fact he was on the same course as her, but because of his sweet personality and how nicely he treated everyone around him. She aimed to be like him.

What Y/N didn't already realise, was that she was a similar kind of person, and people recognised her kindness. Although she mainly kept to herself, always had her nose in a book or her head in the clouds, she greeted everyone kindly. And for that, she was already loved so much.

It couldn't hurt to help out, could it? Sure, she wanted a break, but this should be things she already knew. And it wasn't like she would be forced to spend her time with anyone horrible. The only thing remotely intimidating was the fact that she'd be presumably meeting one of the most popular friend groups on campus.

But, perhaps it would be nice to properly talk to them, instead of just greeting them like her friendly self normally did.

"- Miss Park?" Mr Jung was still staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Sure, I'll do it," Y/N grinned, adjusting her bag on her shoulders before waving her professor goodbye.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was 4:30pm. Right on the dot.

Y/N had arrived perfectly on time, oddly nervous for her first tutor session with Felix. Maybe it was because she hadn't spoken to him properly, apart from the emails back and forth on when to arrange a mutually good time to meet. And that took a while in itself, because Felix didn't seem to check his emails a lot. It would be much easier once she had his phone number to text, and it seemed much less formal too.

Not only that, but it would be nice to see a different name pop up on her screen other than her persistent ex, Johnny, who couldn't seem to forget about her.

Knock, knock, knock.

Y/N stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other before the door opened.

"Y/N right? Come in, come in, sorry about the mess!" Felix cheerfully greeted her with a pre warning of the state of his dorm, which she quickly realised he shared with all of the other guys.

Was it messy? Yes, but the typical mess you'd expect for a boys' dorm. It was homely though. Domestic.

On a coffee table, there was a computer science textbook lying open beside a laptop covered in cat stickers, neatly kept to one side, almost to avoid the art materials spread precariously across the furniture. There was barely any room for the puppy patterned mug of coffee to sit, most likely brewed from the expensive coffee machine in the kitchen, Y/N had noticed. The TV screen was on, showing the title screen of a game she didn't quite recognise, she wasn't much of a gamer herself. As she glanced to where she could take off her coat in the lobby area, there was a gym bag, a backpack with headphones peeking out of the top, and some keys scattered to the side, charmingly accompanied by a koala keyring and a kangaroo one too.

"Don't worry about the mess, it's homely," Y/N shrugged, taking her coat off and feeling a bit surprised when Felix wordlessly took it out of her hands and hung it up for her.

"That's the excuse Hannie always uses..." Felix chuckles, before his eyes widen, "oh yeah! My boyf- roommates are all home right now around here somewhere, so don't be shocked if you see one of them walking about. We can study in my room if you want? It'll be much quieter," he stumbled on his words.

"Sure, whatever is more comfier for you, Felix," Y/N grinned as he nodded once more and they set up things in his room at his desk. Felix brought out his laptop to takes notes as Y/N brought out her notebook. Clearly they had different ways of studying, but that didn't seem to deter her, things like that didn't mean much when she was here to help.

"So, how much have you gotten done so far?" Y/N popped the lid off of her pen, both of them giggling as it flew onto the floor somewhere.

"Don't hate me if I say none of it?" Felix replied sheepishly as he crouched down to retrieve the piece of stationary and sat back down in his seat.

"I can't hate you, silly! I've only just met you!" Y/N shook her head with a gummy smile, not knowing she was melting Felix's heart as she did so.

And so, they began, Y/N guiding Felix to the best references and praising him for his ideas that he thought of for the assignment. She made sure she steered him in the right direction and he seemed to be on the right path already.

Knock, knock.

The door opened to reveal two handsome men, both with sharp features, one with longer black hair and the other with a bold purple style.

"Here, have some brain power," the guy with purple hair put the plate down in front of the two, Y/N already smiling at the colourful fruit presented in front of them.

"That's Minho by the way, and that's Hyunjin," Felix pointed out to Y/N, before munching on a piece of honeydew melon. She waved at them with an enthusiastic 'hi' as they made themselves at home in Felix's room.

Hyunjin stretched across the bed as Minho perched against the desk on Felix's side.

"I think I'll be eating most of this then if it's for brain power," Felix grabbed a few more pieces of fruit, shoving it into his mouth contentedly at the sweet taste.

"You better save some of it for Y/N! She's the guest! Plus, I had to spend time with Minho in the kitchen, with a knife... My life was on the line for these snacks!" Hyunjin professed dramatically, sat up on the bed now as he moved his hands around whilst explaining.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle along with Felix, Hyunjin noticing this as he smiled at how comfortable she was around them already.

"Just wait, you'll have to stay for dinner one time, and then you'll see!" Hyunjin widened his eyes comically, as Y/N nodded along in agreement.

"You like to cook, Y/N?" Minho asked curiously, showing interest in the girl who came round to tutor his boyfriend.

"I'm not the best at cooking actually... Most times I just eat ramen for dinner or order fried chicken," she pinched her lip habitually and covered her awkward grin, yet everyone else could still see it from the way her eyes crinkled.

"Ah! That's not good, I'll have to feed you, make sure you get something nutritional in that belly," Minho patted her head as he tutted.

"That's our Minho, he always cooks for us, he's such a doting boyfriend-" Felix nuzzled his head against Minho's stomach before freezing in place. He may have hidden their secret before but this time he couldn't help himself.

"Y/N, look, we-" Hyunjin stumbled over his words as he stood up now, next to Felix and Minho as he took in the girl's shocked expression.

"It's ok, it's ok, I won't judge," she quickly held her hands up to try and calm them.

"It's easier said then done, not exactly conventional having 8 guys date each other," Minho sighed, stroking Felix's hair soothingly to show he didn't blame the younger.

"Please don't tell anyone," Felix couldn't even look her in the eyes. He felt like he had already blown his chances of getting good grades. Like, what a bombshell to drop on your tutor. Oh yeah, by the way, I have 8, boyfriends but keep it a secret, please.

"Guys, please, it's ok, really. I wouldn't dare tell anyone. That's not my information to share, I'd rather you act natural around me then hide that side to yourselves, ok?" Y/N spoke carefully, taking in all of their expressions to make sure her message was heard.

"You've got a good tutor here, Lixie," Hyunjin sighs in relief, a small smile painting his face.

"I do," he nodded in agreement, relieved that she was someone he could not only learn from, but trust too.

Y/N would come to see a lot of sweet interactions between the boys, and also get to know them a lot more too. This was only the start.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Over the next few weeks, Y/N had really gotten to know the other guys quite well, and when she had reassured the rest of them in person that their secret was safe with her, the arms she was welcomed with were open even more.

"Hi love, come in!" Chan softly smiled at her as she entered the dorms, her books already clutched in her arms.

"You're in a cheery mood today, Channie, get some sleep for once?" Y/N laughed and teased the older boy, looking away mischievously when he pulled a face that said 'why did I let her and Seungmin interact?'.

"Go on go, go find Felix and help him study," he fake sighed and shooed her away, pushing her in the direction of Felix's room with a laugh, but wincing when her phone hit the floor. "Oh sorry!" he was quick to pick it up, the phone lighting up with yet another text message, making him frown.

"Oh it's fine, don't worry," Y/N went to grab it back quickly and hesitantly, Chan let her.

"Who's Johnny?" he chewed his lip as he asked the question.

"He's no one," Y/N shrugged him off, making sure she had all her books ready and was about to enter Felix's room, hand reaching for the handle when Chan realised he couldn't let this go so soon.

The rest of the boys and himself had grown to like Y/N a lot in such a short space of time. Her caring nature had stolen a piece of each of their hearts and they found themselves exuding that same care towards her.

"Love, it doesn't look like nothing, that was a whole lot of texts," Chan warily rested a hand on her shoulder.

Y/N sighed before moving over to their sofa, Chan following right behind her.

"It's really nothing... I'm used to it," she shrugged, biting on the inside of her cheek.

"So if it's nothing why are we taking a seat to talk about this, hmm?" Chan calmly spoke to her, lightly pinching her cheek to get her to stop.

"I don't know if I'm overreacting or not... sometimes I think I am but other times, here just look," Y/N shakily hands over her phone to Chan, and he grasped her hand in his as he read the more recent ones that appeared in her notifications.

"These messages are horrible, Y/N, why don't you just block him?" Chan was horrified at the threatening messages he read, nostrils flaring more and more at each word that his eyes scanned.

"He always finds a way to message me from a new number... See?" Y/N reluctantly released her hand from Chan's as she unlocked her phone and showed her messages, previous conversations all with the same tone to them, but from different numbers. "You can always tell it's him messaging because he always leaves a space between the full stop and the word. And then he doesn't use slang in his texts apart from 'ur'," she further explains to Chan, who was in disbelief at how she spoke so causally of what was happening to her. Yet, he could tell there were some feelings she was internalising too.

"You're too smart for your own good, love," Chan rubbed her shoulder, proud of her analysing skills that she recognised it was her ex. "You really don't deserve this," he murmured, leaning his head on top of hers.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was nice, to feel that love and appreciation again, without having any labels attached. But then it had Y/N thinking, what really was this thing between her and the boys?

"Aren't you going to take a break too, Y/Nnie? Felix has been playing this game for at least twenty minutes now!" Changbin leant his head back on the sofa arm as he watched the girl diligently flicking through her notes whilst Felix went to take a 'short' break and play on his PC.

"Ah, it's fine haha, I want to make sure I've got some stuff ready for when Felix is done," Y/N brushed off Changbin's concerns and pushed back a stray piece of hair as she read through the notes she had made during the afternoon.

"Nope, no, not having it, I'll get Seungmin to make you some of his fresh coffee and then you will sit here, right next to me," Changbin sat up, patting a space on the sofa next to him, "and drink it."

"But Changbin-" Y/N sighed, covering her face and leaning back into the chair at the table, already hearing the whirring of the coffee machine in the kitchen, meaning Seungmin was around and overheard the small harmless bickering.

"Nope, now come, sit here," Changbin didn't budge, from not just his seat but his efforts to getting Y/N to take a break too.

She groaned as she complied and sat next to the muscly guy, who hummed in content when he felt the dip of the sofa next to him.

Seungmin entered the lounge, bringing over a mug of coffee for Y/N, dainty sunflowers painted all over it.

"Wow this mug is so cute!" Y/N grinned as she held it up slightly to admire it.

"Good. It's your mug," Seungmin nodded as he sat at the end of the sofa, a mug of coffee made for himself as he placed it done on the table.

"My mug? I don't even live here, Seungmin," Y/N tried to laugh it off, but she couldn't help but feel butterflies at the warmth she received from these guys. The way that they always made sure she felt at home in their home.

"You might as well, haha, with the amount of times Felix invites you over to study when half the time he's all distracted," Seungmin pushed up his glasses, turning to look at Y/N.

"Well I thought that's why he wanted me over more... Because we didn't get enough done in the first place?" Y/N pursed her lips in thought, before blowing on the coffee to try and cool it down even though it had been freshly brewed and was still very hot.

"Interesting take... I'm with Seungmin on this one though," Changbin raised an eyebrow at Y/N's reasoning before cooing at Seungmin, reaching over to pat him on the knee.

"Ew, hyung," Seungmin wrinkled his nose, bringing his legs further up on the sofa and curling up.

"Hey! Don't reject me in front of Y/N... i-it's embarrassing! I'm a desirable man!" Changbin complained loudly, throwing his arms up in the air before folding them and sinking into the sofa.

Y/N couldn't help but agree, nodding to herself as she bit her lip. Changbin was a handsome man. All of them were. They were all lucky to have each other, not only for their looks but their personalities too.

"I saw that look, you're not so sly, sunflower," Seungmin whispered in Y/N's ear as he patted her head before wrapping his arms around Changbin to quieten the pouting man, cheekily biting his neck in the process.

"Yah! Kim Seungmin!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A rough day was rare for Y/N, for she always strived to push any stress away and focus on what she was meant to be doing. But with another influx of texts from Johnny, he wasn't making her day so easy. Even more so because he was waiting outside of her class.

"Never answer my texts huh? I just want you to talk to me, that's all I want!" Johnny grabbed Y/N's wrist and took her to the side of the empty hallway.

Not only was the poor girl shocked at him grabbing her harshly, she also wondered how he knew where her class was, they didn't even take the same course, let alone similar ones for him to be in the same building as her.

"You don't deserve that, Johnny, not after what you put me through," Y/N pulled her arm away from him and redirected herself outside, hoping that was all this confrontation would be.

Oh how wrong she was. Walking outside where there was more students around should have made Y/N feel safer, even with Johnny on her tail, but with the gossipy nature of the university, it made things worse.

"Don't you want me?" Johnny growled, his voice too loud for her liking as people around her pulled out their phones and started filming as he grabbed her wrist tightly once again.

"No! I don't! I hate you!" Y/N said through gritted teeth, trying to regain ownership of her own limb.

This seemed to frustrate Johnny even further, his intentions becoming more and more clear.

He spat at her, right in her face.

"People like you don't deserve to even be with me, I'm doing you a favour!" he tried to pull her along with him.

Y/N felt helpless. Why wasn't anyone helping her? They were too busy hiding behind their phone screens.

"No, I'm doing myself a favour and getting away from you!" Y/N took matters into her own hands and despite the fast beat of her heart she stomped on his foot and stormed away quickly, wiping her tears as she did so.

It wasn't long until the video started floating around other students. Chan and Changbin, who were in one of the studios courtesy of the uni's musical facilities, received a text from Minho.

Minho: pls tell me this isn't y/n...

[vid.attchmnt]

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Is that my favourite person in the world?!" Han hugged Y/N as soon as she walked through the door.

Han had admired Y/N as soon as he met her, always wanting to cuddle her because he thought she was so sweet and 'too pure for this world'.

And oh, did Y/N need that hug, especially after the day she had.

"Hey, she was mine first!" Felix wrapped her up into a big hug of his own as he pushed Han away, not too hard though.

Mine?

That would be a thought for another time...

Pushing the boys away and letting them bicker playfully between themselves, she sat down next to Jeongin on the sofa, who was absorbed in whatever video game it was that he was playing. She often had comfortable silences when she was in the space of the younger. But she likes that. They could appreciate each other's presences without needing to say much. Without needing to say anything.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her head as she read through her notes once more, wondering what part of the words that were jumbling right in front of her very eyes, would be more useful to Felix today.

"You should play one day," Jeongin spoke up quietly, as to not disturb her focus and for him to maintain his own as he fiddled with the joysticks.

"Ah I don't know a lot about gaming, plus staring at the screen would give me an even worse headache right now I think," Y/N sank deeper into the sofa in defeat, rubbing her eyes as she tossed her notes aside.

"Let me get you some painkillers," Jeongin immediately paused his game, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

"No it's fine-" Y/N tried to stop him.

"You take them with water?" Jeongin ignored her attempts as he called out from the other room.

"Yes," Y/N replied quietly but he still seemed to have heard her.

Jeongin returned into the lounge with two painkillers and a some water in a glass prettily painted with sunflowers on it. It wouldn't be hard to guess who bought her that.

"Cute glass," Y/N fondly smiled, as she sipped the water slowly and swallowed the painkillers.

Jeongin loved how she was still able to smile despite the pain she was in. He admired her for that.

"A certain puppy picked that one out, convinced Minho and Jinnie that it was necessary," Jeongin nodded at her, taking his seat but not returning to his game straight away.

"Well I love it, I'll tell him thank you later if I see him," Y/N placed down the glass and instead of relaxing into the sofa once more, she found herself in a pair of arms instead.

"I'm sure you will," Han gently hugged her gently this time, noticing her demeanour was quieter than usual and that she had taken some tablets.

"You sure you want to study today, Y/N?" Felix rubbed her knee soothingly, not wanting to pressure her.

"Yeah, I'm sure, maybe we can take it slow today?" Y/N makes a compromise, not wanting to let down the sunshine on front of her.

"Of course, of course, love, that sounds like a better idea, just tell me if you want to take a break, yeah? Don't want you to be feeling in pain just because you're trying to help me," Felix kisses the top of her head, making her blush.

What was going on with her heart? Maybe she was just still feeling shaken up from earlier on.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell us something happened between you and Johnny?" Han suddenly tensed up, and Y/N could feel it. She didn't dare look at the video Han was playing on his phone.

In that moment, Seungmin and Hyunjin entered the dorm, frowns on their faces.

"Ah Seungmin! There you are, thanks for getting me this glass, you really didn't have to," Y/N tried to change the subject, hoping their frowns would disappear but it didn't work.

"Nope, don't do that sunflower," Seungmin shook his head, taking off his shoes and putting his slippers on.

"Angel, why didn't you say anything, hmm?" Hyunjin walked over in front of the sofa, hands on his hips.

"No wonder you weren't feeling great," Jeongin's eyes widened in realisation after watching the video over Han's shoulder, handing Y/N the glass of water once more to encourage her to take some sips.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Y/N didn't even believe herself as she spoke.

"Y/Nnie, there's a video going around of you and Johnny in the square at uni," Hyunjin crouched down in front of her.

"Wait? I haven't seen that video, I've only seen the one of hyungs cornering him," Seungmin spoke up, sharing a confused look at Hyunjin. He was sure they had been speaking about the same thing earlier, yet with both of the information they had seen from different videos, they must have been able to fill in the gaps.

"W-wait they what?" Y/N stuttered as she looked back and forth between the boys.

In that moment, Seungmin held up a video playing on his phone, showing the three eldest of the group cornering Johnny against a wall, holding him by the collar of his shirt as they shouted at him.

Y/N couldn't believe her eyes.

"It's ok," Felix's deep voice soothed her as he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her closer to his chest.

"Let's just have a relaxing evening yeah? Take your mind off of it," Seungmin instructed, tucking Y/N's notes away into her bag.

"Felix is that ok with-"

"Don't even worry love, it's fine," Felix rubbed her shoulder once more, Han holding her hand as he leant his head on her shoulder.

They all began to relax, watching a Disney film. Y/N cuddled up between the September twins, and Jeongin reluctantly allowing his overly affectionate hyungs, Seungmin and Hyunjin, to coddle and cuddle him.

Around halfway through the film, the front door unlocked and 3 sets of footsteps marched inside.

"Is she here? Is she ok?!"

"I swear she was meant to have a tutor session with Lixie today but they're not in his room..."

"Wait, her shoes are here."

Chan, Minho and Changbin all sighed in relief, almost synchronised, as they saw the object of their concern cuddled up to their other boyfriends.

"Y/Nnie, love, come here a sec," Chan whispered into her ear, gesturing her to come to the side to talk to all 3 of them.

She felt nervous just standing there as their eyes scanned her to make sure she was physically ok.

"Guys, you didn't have to do that..." Y/N shook her head, hands retreating into the sleeves of a jumper Han let her borrow because he insisted a cosy jumper is a cosy heart and it would make her feel better.

He wasn't wrong.

"Oh but we did, it wasn't right what he did to you Y/N, and I don't know what he's done to you in the past but..." Changbin trailed off, fists clenched at the thought of Johnny.

"He'll never hurt you again, ok?" Minho promised, hand caressing her cheek gently.

"And if he does anything again tell one of us right away, we got you," Chan rubbed her shoulder, a pout on his face reflecting Y/N's as her eyes welled up with tears.

"Thanks guys," Y/N sniffled, hugging each of them.

Hyunjin, who was snooping on the conversation with eager ears, called out across to them, "yah! Don't make Angel cry, we just calmed her down!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N was confused. She wasn't as sure anymore, or, at least not as much as before, that is. Sure, she knew about their relationship, of course. Though she wasn't apart of it. They seemed to act so nice and loving towards her. Always helping her out, Felix giving her extra attention and affection when he thought she needed it. The boys always bring her food whenever they got food themselves. They'd ruffle her hair and give her soft smiles. Back hugs and forehead kisses. It's so much more than that. They just treat her so well. She's supposed to keep their secret, but, then again, she's not dating any of them.

Despite everything, does that mean they're messing with her? Are they doing this to mess with her feelings? She sure hoped that wasn't the case. She's been having so much doubt lately with this situation she seemed to have gotten herself stuck in. But, she didn't want to be seen as if she was trying to interrupt or ruin their relationship by confessing. Seriously, one girl and eight guys? She wasn't so sure that it was realistic, whether she wanted it to be or not.

She just wanted this guilt that she constantly felt to go away. She didn't want to stress over this anymore or worry. She hated these nerves that she constantly felt, continuously. She wanted this to be over, even if she never ended up dating them.

Knock, knock, knock.

"We've missed you," Jeongin was shocked to see her as he opened the front door, blurting out the first words that came to mind as he welcomed her inside.

It had been 5 days since they saw her. But it was 5 days too long.

Y/N stood at the edge of the lounge not knowing what to say as the boys all turned and gasped as they saw her.

"What's been going on, Y/Nnie?" Han slowly asked.

"Talk to us love..." Felix begged, he just wanted to know why she created some distance between them all.

"Don't call me that when you don't mean... When you don't want..." Y/N ran a stressed hand through her hair, not knowing how to articulate herself because her emotions were all over the place.

"Come sit down ang-, Y/N, it's ok, talk to us," Hyunjin went to call jer ny his usual nickname, but sensing her discomfort, he chose not to this time. And it felt weird.

"I'm so confused right now..." Y/N began, perching on the edge of the armchair where Changbin was sat.

"You asked me to keep your relationship secret and of course I'd never tell anyone but, I feel like, gosh no I can't say it it'll sound so stupid," Y/N scolded herself, Chan patting her back lightly as he stood next to her.

"Nothing you say is stupid, you're very clever, sunflower," Seungmin shook his head, not liking the sight of the girl he was so fond of, looking so distressed.

"What am I to you guys? L-like am I just Felix's tutor to you, or just even a friend or-"

"You're much more to us then those things, and I know you know that by now," Minho leant forward in his seat on the sofa.

"We like you, a lot, Y/N," Felix said with his hand on his chest.

"W-why couldn't you just tell me that? I-i've been going out of my mind," Y/N ducked her head down, covering her face with her hands.

"We didn't want to pressure you after that situation with your ex..." Changbin grasped her hand from next to her.

"Oh, sorry, yeah I get that..." Y/N sighed.

"Come on, where's that smile gone?" Hyunjin cooed, tickling her sides and successfully making her laugh.

"We really like you Y/N, and we were hoping you'd want to be a part of our relationship too," Chan crouched down in front of her.

"You sure?" Y/N was wary. This wasn't a trick right?

"Never been more sure of anything in our lives," he was quick to squash her worries, kissing her on the cheek.

"Then, yes, I'd love to be with you all," Y/N grinned that gorgeous smile that they loved so much.

It was the best decision she could have made agreeing to be Felix's tutor. It brought so many people into her life that she already held dearly to her heart, people she knew she'd come to love even more in her life. The little things they did for her with more care than anyone else had ever paid her attention to. They gave her the love she deserved, the love that she'd never lose.

taglist: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami

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buttdumplin · 5 days

Text

The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

CW: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

#poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 x latine reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #i cannot emphasize the poly of this enough #this is truly some of the most self indulgent shit i've ever written and i've never been happier lmao #honestly this is just precious moments with each of them #i'm definitely going to be writing more 141 x latine reader #prepare to be fucking sick of me #frfr tho this is the first long thing i've written in years and ngl it feels good to be doing it again #also yeah i tend to sprinkle in commas like they're condiments

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sunsents · 1 year

Text

neteyam sully - beautiful boy

This is the fluffiest thing I've ever written. I'm on my period and very emotional.

➵ summary: Neteyam's beauty renders you speechless, you can't help but gawk at him.

➵ pairing: neteyam x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

➵ word count: 990

➵ warnings: pure, teeth rotting fluff. it's so sweet that even I was embarrassed while writing it. reader is literally just pining after him like an idiot and doing nothing else. reader is a simp.

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

"Will you stop it?"

"But you're just so pretty,"

Sat snugly on Neteyam's lap, you're tracing his facial features with a gentle finger. Your mate, frustrated and flushed - a combo you've come to adore after years of knowing him - keeps swatting at your hand and grumbling lowly.

You can't help it though, he's just so pretty. The type of pretty you stare at for hours without getting enough of it, no matter how much you trace and retrace his facial features with wandering eyes. The type of pretty that has you questioning how, or rather who allowed him to be this beautiful. The inquiries are daily and, nonstop - Eywa's likely fed up with you bending your neck at the sky and letting out a muffled scream of misery.

Because Neteyam was a hurting kind of pretty - like he was incapable of making a facial expression that made him look even a tinge bit ugly, and this hurt your chest. Squeezed your heart until it shriveled and let out a pent, 'Enough, no more'. Worst of it all, you were free to touch. Free to look, free to fondle, and free to love. He was your mate, after all.

This thought brought you immense joy every waking hour of the day.

So, he should cut you some slack. You were allowed to trace his facial features, because he looks like that, and he needs to be marveled at and cooed at.

"I'm not pretty," he grumbles and squeezes your side in an effort to make you stop. It's useless, you're going nowhere. This is where you'll be spending the rest of your years, growing old and all that. Right between his arms. "I'm handsome and mighty!"

"Sure, you're all those. But you're also," you lean close to his ear, "pretty..."

Neteyam grumbles all the same but stays still when you return to tracing his romanesque nose. His eyes are closed and you can't help but stare at his lashes - dark and long, kissing his cheeks. "I can never say no to you, can I?"

You smile, deciding to stay silent. You both know the answer, Neteyam would jump into a fire if you asked nicely.

So, with this in mind, you give him the softest kisses - peppering them on his smooth cheeks tenderly. His face is truly gorgeous and right in front of you; you can't help but kiss his lips. It's tame but drawn out, a press of lips as Neteyam stays completely still. (Which is a struggle for him since your mate always has to be doing something useful with himself.) You feel him smile against your lips, and a big, warm hand closes around your nape. His beautiful lashes - the ones you were admiring just moments ago - flutter against your cheek.

Neteyam likes to look. Not as much as you, but he had the strange habit of opening his eyes mid-kiss. You don't know how this action became a habit of his, but you're sure it was between the periods of I want to hold your hand longer, and I think I'm in love with you. It would have been weird if you opened your eyes as well, but your heart never allowed you to. It's surprising you even noticed him doing this since you melt into pudgy goo whenever his lips touch you. So curse Neteyam's long and perfect eyelashes, it's hard not to notice them when they flutter softly against your cheek and tickle your heart.

You pull away to which he whines, then continue your tracing. The tip of your pointer finger lingers on the curve of his lips - another feature you absolutely adore. His lip twitches and your finger moves to his bottom lip, pulling it down to watch it bounce back. The scene drives you crazy - causes your mind to reel.

His lips are plush and soft, and his skin is oh-so pliant under your body. Your hand cups the sides of his face, massaging his temples. Neteyam hums and wraps his tail around your waist possessively. "Feels good," his eyes flutter shut again, letting you knead at his face. You try to be as gentle as possible, yet determined to make full use of this moment your mate has allowed you.

You feel the need to knead and smooth over every inch of his body so somehow - hopefully - the ache to just settle into his entire being and live there for the rest of your life is soothed. And the ache scares you.

The intensity of your love scares you because sometimes you feel like you cannot breathe. Neteyam has that effect on you - stealing your breath away with a kind smile and not even being apologetic about it. He's not even aware of his effect on you, and you think that only makes him more guilty.

Punishing him is fun though - peppering kisses all over his face so he's unable to catch his breath as well, serves him right. You don't stop your kissing, out of breath and flushed.

"Stop!" Neteyam laughs breathily, trying to push you away. He catches your face between his palms and harshly kisses your lips. Like a kiss a young child would share with a crush, only to run away, giggling, because ewww.

You scrunch your nose, mumbling protests against his mouth. "You stop!"

He pulls away with a grin - and, oh Eywa. You're truly done for.

"I love you, so much. I could stay here all day, even if people come looking for us. Even if Eywa wills it herself for us to separate. I'm never letting you go, my love." he casually hums as he wraps his arms around you again, pressing you into his chest. So casual that you're baffled, looking up at him through your eyelashes with your lips parted. You feel your heart melting, sliding off from your parted lips and into his palms, snugly finding a new home in his hold.

#neteyam imagine #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #neteyam #avatar twow #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar au #avatar 2009 #fluff #neteyam fluff #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x you

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everyonewooeverywhere · 3 months

Text

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!jongho x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, slightly angsty, relatively fluffy (certainly the fluffiest thing i've ever written here)

word count ✭ 2.5k

note ✭ so this was something i really needed to write for myself, i think. for those who don't know (which is all of you lol) i have adhd. where i see it the most in my own life is chronic procrastination. it's something i've had to learn to cope with a lot throughout my life. a lot of times, when i feel the need to avoid feeling the stress of my personal life, i'll scroll on instagram or tumblr forever. which then leads to a heaping ton of guilt in the following hours as i try to make up for lost time. it's a wonderful cycle.

anyway, this is to say, that coping alone can be incredibly difficult. don't get me wrong, i have a handful of wonderful friends (who go to school across the country) and an angel of a therapist, but i often romanticize having someone there to help drag me out of those hopeless cycles. and not because i think i need someone to do it for me, but having that person is a really comforting thought. and, today, that is jongho i guess 😀

that being said, this mc doesn't necessarily have adhd, but they are certainly experiencing something that i experience very frequently as a byproduct of it.

like, is this smut? yeah, but im allowed to be emotional 😗

warnings ✭ mc is stressed af, protected sex, really soft sex (they're in love 😤)

✭✭✭✭

It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.

So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms.

You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.

Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take.

Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Jongho months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Jongho had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.

But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours.

Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.

| jongho 🐻🤎: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.

| jongho 🐻🤎: that ok?

God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.

| jongho 🐻🤎: y/n?

| jongho 🐻🤎: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?

Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Hi,” you picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar.

You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”

“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."

You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.

“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.

You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”

“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”

“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”

When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time.

✭✭✭✭

By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Jongho had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand.

When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line.

Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”

You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”

The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Jongho had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable.

Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.

And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.

“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food.

That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“How could I ever forget? I love you, too, y/n.”

✭✭✭✭

After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Jongho had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.

He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Jongho would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you.

When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.

Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.

He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head.

Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.

He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.

He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed.

Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you.

With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm.

Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.

“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.

You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.

He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat.

“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.

You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom.

He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged.

You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.

Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”

“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”

“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.

He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”

You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”

He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.

For him, though, that was more than enough.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ok this shit got really personal 💀 but i did really enjoy writing it. it's not often that i write a whole oneshot in one sitting but i did today (other than my minor break to eat dinner).

also, i was actually between writing this for vernon or jongho because i felt like they both kinda fit the vibe (sorry if the knowledge that this could have been a hansol fic makes anyone sad), but maybe i'll write something similar for him next time i'm feeling it

again, i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much for reading 💗

mwah~

#ateez #ateez x reader #jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jongho smut #jongho scenario #ateez angst #everyonewooeverywhere

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mcflurryxx · 2 months

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I want part two please! English is not my first language but I think it's well written and I love the fluff, I wanna read more 🥺

The fire we share

Alastor x fem!reader. pt.2 pt.1 <- click!

genre: fluff + suggestive

word count: 1.7k

warnings: suggestive! neck biting, bite marks, hickeys, kissing and bold touches. (no real smut included tho.) lemme know if i missed any.

Summary: After Alastor has realized his feelings for you, he's been awfully distant. He wants to keep on doing it, until you decide to interfere.

a/n: Thank you so much for the sweetest words, my lovely anon! I honestly had no idea you guys are gonna like that! I appreciate your feedback with all of my heart, yall are the fluffiest. Lots of love. (Also it took me SO long and I'm sorry if it's shitty.)

Please keep in mind that English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes in advance.

After that night, when Alastor returned to the hotel later than normally, the night when your heart accelerated uncontrollably at the edge of losing consciousness, you were constantly dreaming about his lips pressed to the top of your hand. The butterflies never left you and soon you've realized that your feelings might've changed drastically.

You were always trying to find the radio demon, send him one of the most precious smiles of yours and ask him how his day went. Although it wasn't as simple as it sounds. He's grown painfully distant towards you. Ever since that stupid gesture. He's been distant to the point you started to question everything you've ever done, anything you've ever said.

The sound of a subtle, yet audible scratching on the back of your door brought you out of the deep depths of your thoughts, making you stop thinking about the man who had your mind twisted, at least for a moment. You moved from your bed, making your way towards the door.

As soon as you grabbed the handle, opening the door to look out, a familiar, tall and elegant silhouette made you week in your knees. Your eyes sparkled slightly, but you decided not to say anything. Well, at least until you noticed the shallow claw marks, covering the front of your door.

"Did you do this?" You asked with your brow raised, but unfortunately haven't received any answer.

"Alastor, I said, did you do this?" You rised your voice just a bit, realizing he's not going to speak anyway. Your shaking hand reached upwards, towards his slender arm. You gently ran your fingers along the sleeve of his scarlet coat, finishing at his wrist where you stopped with a bit of hesitation.

Alastor squirmed a little, albeit he never rejected you. He hated physical touch. You were expecting him to yell at you, push you away and ask to never talk to him again, but.. None of those things ever happened. The radio demon slowly, but firmly enough, grabbed your wrist with his free hand, guiding you straight to the top of his head. You felt the delicate red hair under your fingertips. With a hint of blush, you started playing with the strands of his silky hair, stroking it softly and affectionately.

Your actions resulted in a muffled groan escaping Alastor's lips.

"Right there.." He managed to whisper despite the growing heat upon his face. He didn't even dare to look you in the eye, nor say a mere word.

As you continued on caressing his sensitive scalp, he blessed your ears with more soft groans and little gasps. You couldn't believe how cute he actually was.

You smiled and scratched him behind his ear, forcing him to let out another gasp. "Still mad at me?" You stopped your actions for a moment, getting lost in his deep, crimson eyes easily.

"I've never been!" He chuckled in his characteristic way, acting as if absolutely nothing happened, which caught you off guard. "Heavens, how could i be mad at you, my darling!" His usual grin returned to his face.

"But you.. Were avoiding me?" You took a quick glance at his hands, glued to his cane. They were trembling again. You knew something was horribly off.

"Me? Nonsense." He brushed you off completely, making you even more pissed at this point.

You took a deep breath, placing your hand on top of his shaking one. With a subtle, reassuring smile, you decided to end this shitty show of his.

"Dear, please tell me what's wrong. Ever since that night when.. W-Well, when you kissed my hand, you've been acting distant towards me. Did i do something wrong? Something to upset you?"

Your words were slow and sweet just like pink colored marshmallows.

Alastor looked down, finally accepting his defeat. He sighed, intertwining your fingers together. "My dearest, it's been hard lately. I've began feeling so weird and i couldn't understand why. Earlier that night when I kissed your hand, I visited cannibal town and took an advice from my other friend." He squeezed your hand tighter. "She told me I'm not sick or anything. And that my disease is just.."

You tilted your head curiously, eager to know the rest of the story.

"Well it's just.. Love." He let out a narrow chuckle, trying to regain his confidence. "Yet i don't know what 'love' is."

You two stood there in silence, admiring each other's presence. Surprisingly, you understood him very well. Due to your lack of experience in serious relationships in the past, sometimes even you had asked yourself what love really was.

"Alright, I know what you're trying to say. And although it might be hard for you, you have to remember I'm always by your side." You gave him a charming smile, caressing the palm of his hand with your finger. "Besides, your feelings are mutual. You don't have to be aware of what the exact feeling is, yeah? I feel the same."

Alastor felt his cheeks getting redder and redder the more you spoke. For the first time in forever, he felt truly understood.

The radio demon leaned closer to you, hovering mere inches over your strawberry lips. He wanted to do this, really bad, yet the truth is..

..he has absolutely no idea how to kiss.

You giggled with literal hearts in your eyes. "it's okay, let me do it." You grabbed his cheek brushing your thumb against it with so, so much care. Alastor closed his eyes, awaiting your next move, his entire body shivering in anticipation. You carefully captured his lips, leading the kiss and keeping it soft, allowing the demon to adjust and learn from it.

One kiss turned into two, two turned into three.

Each one was filled with furious feelings, hidden deep inside of their hearts and finally spilling out. The two held hands the entire time until they broke apart, gasping for air.

you giggled adorably, sitting on the couch and pulling the man after you. Alastor took a seat close to you, his eyes turned towards you and the feelings inside of them? It's impossible to define it and put it into words. "Now that you can kiss me..." You smiled cheekily. "Did you know you can also kiss somebody's neck?"

Alastor blushed once again, his ears twitching a bit at the thought of learning a new skill by your side. He smiled charmingly, rising from the couch. "Well, as much as i want to please you and allow you to teach me another skill, that would have to wait, doll."

You smiled at the new pet name.

"Why so?"

"I'm afraid it's about time for my radio broadcast!" He exclaimed joyfully, getting back to his previous confidence.

"Oh, alright. Have fun, Alastor!"

You moved from your seat and took a step closer to him. Adjusting his bow tie, you said goodbye to him with a little smirk.

----

It's been an hour since Alastor left for his daily broadcast. You were bored and after a whole sixty minutes of missing him and doing nothing in particular, you decided to pay him a little visit.

But before you go, you have to make some tea for him!

(You carried it all the way with you!)

With a porcelain cup of tea in one of your hands, you knocked into the door twice.

"Who's this?" You heard from the other side of the door. Somehow, you were certain he knew it was you. It was possible to guess how much he's smiling.

You entered the radio station, closing the door behind you. "Hello, sweetheart. I've got some tea for you. It seems to be your favorite one, I suppose?" You smirked at him, placing the fancy cup in front of him, careful not to disturb his work. He reached his hand in your direction, encouraging you to come closer. His slightly reddening cheeks made your heart melt. Seeing them so often fills your entire being up with pure joy.

You straddled his lap, smiling innocently and enjoying the moment together as much as you could. Alastor rested his hand on the small of your back, trying to hold the eye contact. "Remember when you told me about the neck kissing?" He began in a heavy, seductive whisper. You shivered before nodding your head.

"Well, dolly, I think you underestimated me."

Alastor pulled you closer to him, now having you leaning against his chest. He licked your neck slowy and sensually, his usual cocky smile present also this time. Surprised, you let out a soft gasp, biting your lip to prevent more from coming. The radio demon repeated his gesture, then suddenly sinking his sharp teeth into the flesh between your neck and your shoulder. You squirmed on his lap, a high pitched whine escaping your trembling lips.

"Oh, doll.." He whispered, gasping as well as he moved to suck on your neck in several places. You couldn't help but moan helplessly, letting him do exactly whatever he wants to you. He left many reds and purples upon your fragile skin, painful bruises scattered allover you. You had your eyes closed, your love for the crimson demon increasing with every passing minute.

Alastor smirked just the way you liked it, kissing every single mark he's left on you. After you regained some of your composure, you noticed a red, flickering light next to the microphone. Your eyes widened, hand grasping your own mouth.

"Is.. I-Is the mic still on?" You stuttered, holding onto the last bit of comforting hope, pushing yourself into the foolish belief that the red, little thing meant something totally different. "Oh? It seems I must've left the mic on, haha! How unprofessional of me, please forgive me, darling."

Alastor stated with a mischievous smirk upon his slightly flushed face. The sarcasm in his voice was hitting you directly in the eye, letting you know that he might aswell have done that on purpose. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent and trying to survive the severe embarrassment. Alastor placed his gloved hand against your hair, petting it lovingly. "It seems that the entire town had managed to witness your angelic voice. Why not let them?"

You buried yourself deeper into his neck, hitting his shoulder with your pale hand. "Asshole."

"I liked the other ones more."

Also, I'm doing requests!

#hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel Alastor x you #hazbin hotel Alastor #radio demon #fanfiction #x reader #fluff #hazbin hotel fluff

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doormatty3 · 4 months

Text

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 3 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands. You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour. After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4422

A/N: I think this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written - enjoy :D We stan soft Orm in this house

The gentle warmth of the morning sun seeps through your bedroom, coaxing you from the depths of sleep. As you slowly open your eyes, the soft hues of sunlight bathe the room in a warm glow. A sense of tranquillity washes over you, lingering from the peaceful slumber.

Your awareness gradually returns, and you become conscious of Orm lying beside you. He rests on his stomach, his strong arm draped protectively over your torso. His rhythmic, soothing breaths harmonise with the quiet ambience.

The weight of Orm’s arm is a comforting presence, a reassuring anchor that grounds you in the moment. The warmth emanating from him makes you want to bury yourself in his embrace and never get up again.

In the soft morning light, Orm’s features are bathed in a warm, golden hue. His messy hair catches the sunlight, creating a halo of glowing strands. The shadows play delicately on his sculpted face, accentuating his contours.

The serene expression on his slumbering face adds a touch of vulnerability, softening the regal demeanour you’ve come to associate with him. A tranquil beauty transcends the ordinary as he rests, entirely at ease in the quiet dawn, making the moment feel almost ethereal.

You cast a lingering gaze over Orm’s broad back, your eyes delicately tracing the silhouette of his muscular frame. The morning light plays upon the defined lines and curves, accentuating the strength and grace interwoven beneath his skin.

As you follow his back’s subtle rise and fall, your eyes linger on the ripple of muscles. The play of shadows and highlights emphasises the sculpted form, creating an almost artistic display.

In the soft glow, faint scars on Orm’s back catch your attention for the first time. Their gleam suggests age, like echoes from a past that he’s carried for decades - etched into his skin.

You contemplate the origin of those scars. They don’t appear to be mere remnants of accidental falls; instead, they carry the subtle suggestion of intentional harm inflicted by someone or something. Your heart breaks a bit as you imagine someone beating him - repeatedly.

Your finger hovers over one of the scars, a silent acknowledgement of the untold stories. Even in his sleep, you want to convey that you’re here for him, a wordless reassurance that whatever the past holds, you’re here in his present.

The thought stays in your mind as you quietly continue to observe him. The peaceful sight of him, the warmth he brings, makes you realise that this is a scene you could happily wake up to every day.

You’re caught in a quiet reverie, and as your eyes linger, you notice a subtle shift and one of Orm’s eyes opens. His gaze meets yours, and a sleepy smile plays on his lips.

Now softened by the dawn’s glow, the vibrant hue of his eyes shines almost like a teal colour and seems to hold traces of warmth and depth. The sunlight weaves a subtle dance in his gaze, creating an ethereal play of colours that adds to the quiet beauty of the moment.

It’s as if the first light of day has infused a silent radiance into the intensity of his eyes, making them a captivating sight to behold.

In the peaceful tranquillity of the morning, Orm leans over with practised grace, his bare torso exposed, to brush his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

As he pulls back, a raspy whisper escapes his lips, carrying the weight of the night’s shared moments.

“Good morning,” his voice, textured and rough, resonates through the quiet space.

A warm smile graces your lips as you reciprocate, whispering a soft “Good morning“ in response to Orm’s greeting.

You snuggle into his comforting embrace, and he responds by tightening his hold around you. The warmth of his body against yours creates a cocoon of security, a haven where time seems to stand still.

You can feel his chest’s rhythmic rise and fall as he breathes, the soft sounds of the morning filling the room. The quiet ambience is punctuated only by the distant sounds of waves and seagulls, reminding you of the ocean that brought you together.

In this moment, you appreciate the simple joy of sharing a morning with someone special. As you cuddle into Orm, you exchange a contented smile, savouring the quiet beauty of this situation.

“I’m sorry for last night,” he says, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours.

You hush Orm’s apology with a gentle touch, reassuring him that everything is alright. “You don’t have to apologise,” you say softly, meeting his gaze with understanding. “We all have moments, and I’m here for you.”

Orm’s gratitude is palpable, reflected in the tenderness of his smile. His eyes hold a genuine appreciation, and you sense a silent acknowledgement of the support you’ve offered. Smiling back, you convey that you’re there for him, ready to accept whatever he’s comfortable sharing and respecting the boundaries he sets.

As your fingers gently trace patterns on Orm’s chest, his blue eyes remain fixed on you, following your every movement. The contours of his muscles unfold beneath your touch, the play of light accentuating the sculpted landscape of his warm skin.

Breaking the stillness, you inquire, “Do you have any plans for today?”

Your fingers cease their delicate dance, and instead, you rest your hand flat on Orm’s chest, feeling the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Orm pauses for a moment, considering the question. His response is measured and open, “No specific plans. I’m here for whatever you’d like to do.”

A subtle smile plays on his lips as he continues to watch you as if your presence alone is enough to fill his day with purpose.

Your smile widens as you respond, “How about I show you around the surroundings? We could take a walk on the beach, and if you’re up for it, maybe we could even take the boat for a spin.”

Orm’s eyes light up with genuine interest, and he nods, “That sounds like a delightful plan.”

“Well then, sleepyhead,” you tease, placing a quick, playful kiss on Orm’s lips, “Time to rise and shine.”

With a grin, you make your way out of bed, if not somewhat disgruntled, to leave the warm embrace of his arms. You realise your upper body is still bare, but you don’t feel the need to frantically cover up because he’s just normal about it and doesn’t make any weird comments.

Orm chuckles at your playful tone and the brief kiss, his eyes following you before standing up, too.

As he stretches, the sinewy contours of his muscles seem to dance beneath his skin, casting alluring shadows in the morning light, accentuating the definition of his chest.

The soft glow bathes him in a warm aura, enhancing the natural allure of his bare form.

Your eyes linger on the details - the subtle rise and fall of his chest with every breath, the way the light gently kisses his skin, and how his body moves. It’s a fleeting moment that etches itself into your memory.

You snap out of your trace to stop ogling Orm and grab some clothes.

“Alright, I’m going to hop in the shower. Be right back,” you say with a playful smile as you go to the bathroom.

You enter the small room. The walls are painted in calming shades of blue and adorned with various seashells and vibrant plants.

After placing the new clothes on the closed toilet lid, you undress and throw the worn stuff in the laundry basket.

Inside the shower, the warm water embraces you, its soothing touch complemented by the refreshing scent of your favourite shower gel and shampoo. The flowery and sweet fragrance wafts through the air.

You take a moment to breathe and think as you let the water wash away the remnants of sleep. Thoughts of the handsome man waiting for you cross your mind. You are looking forward to spending more time with him - he has something about him that feels just right. Like he just fits.

When you’re done, you turn off the water and step onto the plush bath mat, droplets of water glistening on your skin. You towel off, the soft fabric absorbing the moisture and dress in your new clothes.

You exit the bathroom and return to the bedroom, finding Orm standing by the window, his gaze fixed on the sea.

You notice that he hasn’t dressed yet; he remains in his shorts, and his hair carries the tousled charm of sleep. The soft light in the room casts a gentle glow on his bare torso, subtly illuminating the defined lines of his muscles.

You approach Orm with a gentle smile. His blue eyes, still fixed on the sea’s expanse, reflect the morning sky’s hues, capturing the soft glow of dawn.

When you reach him, you offer a gentle greeting. “Hey there, enjoying the view?“ you say, your voice a tender undertone in the quiet room. His gaze shifts from the sea to meet yours.

“You can use the shower now if you’d like,” you suggest, gesturing toward the bathroom and continuing with a grin, “Feel free to use my shower products if you don’t mind smelling like me all day.”

Orm chuckles at your remark, his gaze open and warm as he remains still. The intensity of his eyes makes your cheeks flush.

Feeling a bit shy under his scrutiny, you stammer again, “Um, shower?”

He nods slowly, the subtle curve of a smile playing on his lips - he enjoyed that he was able to fluster you.

Orm walks over to you and leans in, planting a quick, gentle peck on your lips. Breath catches in your throat at the unexpected gesture, and the touch of his lips leaves a lingering warmth as he gathers his clothes and strides purposefully towards the bathroom.

You watch as Orm enters the room, expecting him to close the door behind him. Surprisingly, the door remains ajar, and you can see him standing inside, looking a bit lost.

His eyes survey the bathroom, and you notice a hint of uncertainty in his expression as he furrows his brow, particularly when his gaze settles on the shower.

Shrugging off the momentary confusion, you shake your head and turn away, attributing his behaviour to being lost in thought - nothing more and nothing less. Maybe he has a different shower at home and was just caught off guard by yours?

The sound of running water from the shower soon reaches your ears, and you decide to leave Orm to his own devices while you make some breakfast for the both of you. You hope you have something he likes.

_____

The aroma of sizzling bacon fills the kitchen as you expertly crack eggs into a bowl. You decided to make some eggs and bacon - since he ate bacon yesterday and seemed to be okay with it.

As the bacon sizzles in the pan, you contemplate adding a touch of sweetness to the breakfast. Pancakes seem like the perfect addition, so you gather the necessary ingredients as the coffee machine’s low hum punctuates the air.

As you whisk the pancake batter, you find yourself wondering if Orm enjoys pancakes. You really hope he does - at this point, you just gamble.

You decide also to add some fruit to the table. You skillfully slice apples, bananas, and a few berries, arranging them in a colourful array on a plate.

The kitchen is now filled with a delightful medley of scents – the savoury aroma of bacon and eggs, the sweet fragrance of pancakes, and the refreshing notes of freshly cut fruit.

As you ponder over the selection on the table, thinking if anything is missing, Orm enters the kitchen.

His hair is wet and spikey, standing up in all directions. There are damp patches on his shirt and boxer shorts that catch your attention, leaving you to wonder if he took the time to dry himself properly.

A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you meet his gaze, a mix of amusement and something more tender in his eyes. You quickly divert your attention back to the spread on the table, hoping to hide your flustered state - he looks so domestic it’s adorable.

“Oh, what’s all that?” he asks, his eyes curiously wandering over the table.

“I..,” you blush and gesture towards the spread on the table, “made breakfast. I didn’t know what you like, so I just made... everything .”

Orm’s eyes scan the table with genuine curiosity, and then they return to you. You notice how they gleam, expressing happiness. His cheeks carry a slight flush - he blushed at your gesture.

Jesus Christ, almighty - he’s so sweet right now. It’s as if he can’t fathom that someone went through the trouble of preparing a breakfast just for him.

Orm’s smile widens, displaying a toothy grin. “Thank you.”

“Thank me later - you don’t even know if it tastes good yet,” you joke, “sit down.”

You both settle at the table, and you take a moment to point out the various dishes you’ve prepared, explaining each one with enthusiasm.

“Oh, do you want some coffee?” you inquire, reaching for the coffee pot.

“I … have never drunk coffee before,” Orm confesses.

You’re genuinely surprised by this revelation. It would be one thing if he doesn’t like coffee, but to have never even tried it? He probably just worded that wrong and tried it years ago and didn’t like it, you think,

“You want to try?” you suggest, “It’s a good roast.”

“Sure, why not,” he smiles at you.

You pour him a cup, and the rich aroma fills the air as you hand it to him, anticipating his reaction to his first sip of coffee.

As Orm takes a cautious sip, you watch him.

However, the initial reaction isn’t what you expected.

The first sip seems to catch him off guard, and his eyes widen, and he instinctively places a hand over his mouth, attempting to suppress the instinct to spit out the unexpected taste.

The lines on his forehead crease in mild discomfort, and you can almost feel the internal struggle. His eyebrows knit together as he attempts to discern the unfamiliar flavours assaulting his tongue. There’s a flicker of surprise, quickly followed by a trace of disgust that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

It’s evident that the flavour does not sit well with him.

In a quick and decisive motion, Orm gulps down the sip of coffee, shaking his head in mild disbelief. A faint cough escapes him, and you catch a glimpse of the almost involuntary shudder that courses through his frame.

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “Not a fan of coffee, huh?”

Orm sheepishly shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “Definitely not my preferred drink.”

You both share a laugh as he places the cup back on the table, opting for a different choice among the array of delicious breakfast items you’ve prepared.

As Orm starts to eat, his initial coffee misadventure is quickly forgotten.

His eyes close briefly, and a delighted smile spreads across his face. The morning light accentuates the play of emotions on his face, casting a warm glow that enhances the moment.

“Wow, this is amazing!” he exclaims, his genuine enthusiasm filling the room. Each bite seems to bring him newfound joy, and you can’t help but appreciate the way his blue eyes light up when he’s genuinely happy. The hues dance with the reflections of the soft light, creating a captivating and vivid display.

“I didn’t expect such a feast,” he continues, savouring the various dishes.

His expressions of delight make the effort you put into the breakfast all the more worthwhile.

You chuckle at his reaction, pleased that he enjoys it. “I’m glad you like it.”

Orm nods in agreement, continuing to savour each bite. “This is... beyond my expectations.”

It’s adorable, really. How much he is enjoying this and how happy he is - you guess that no one has ever cooked him breakfast. Or maybe even gone out of their way to do something like that for him. The realisation tugs at your heartstrings, making you appreciate these simple moments even more.

“I’ll happily do it again someday,” you say, a slight blush colouring your cheeks at the sincerity of your words.

Orm pauses, his gaze fixed on you, and he reaches over to gently take your hand. “Maybe I can help you next time?”

You can’t help but break into a wide grin, your eyes shining with excitement. “Absolutely!”

_____

“Are you ready to head out?” you ask Orm after finishing up breakfast and cleaning. He was great company, even insisting on helping with the dishes - adamant about not letting you tackle them alone.

He nods, a genuine smile lighting up his features and reaching his eyes.

You gesture for him to follow you, and together, you make your way out of the house through the terrace door.

As you step out, you’re greeted by the breathtaking sight of the morning sun having already risen, casting its warm glow across the sky and the vast expanse of the ocean below you.

The sky is painted in hues of pink, orange, and blue, creating a serene and picturesque canvas. The gentle waves of the ocean reflect the sunlight, creating a mesmerising dance of light on the water. The air is crisp and carries the scent of the sea.

You take a deep breath and look at Orm.

The gentle breeze tousles his hair, and there’s a sense of calm and contentment in his demeanour as he takes in the fresh sea air. You can’t help but admire the sight before you. Swallowing dryly, you find yourself captivated by the way he looks against the backdrop of the morning sun, a moment etched in your memory.

Orm blinks and turns to you, catching your gaze fixed on him. A playful glint lights up his eyes, and a subtle smile plays on his lips.

You clear your throat, “Well then, let’s go.”

As you make your way down the stairs to the beach, Orm follows closely behind, his eyes taking in the surroundings with a sense of wonder.

“This is why I bought the house, you know,” you tell him, “It’s so quiet here.”

Orm nods appreciatively, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. “It’s a beautiful place. I can see why you’d want to be here.”

You continue walking along the shoreline, the rhythmic sound of waves accompanying your conversation.

You notice a shimmer in the sand under the morning sun, and you instinctively bend down to investigate. As you sift through the grains, your fingers brush against something smooth and cool. Pulling it out, you find a small piece of sea glass, its surface catching the sunlight.

“Oh, wow,” you hold it up, showing it to Orm. “Look at this.”

Orm gives a disapproving scoff, his eyes narrowing at the piece of sea glass in your hand.

“That’s just trash,” he remarks with a touch of disdain in his voice, his gaze focused on the glinting object. “It’s pollution in the oceans, harming the natural beauty.” As he speaks, you notice a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, reflecting his concern for the environment.

He seems to view the sea glass not as a treasure but as a reminder of the impact humans have on the sea.

You hold the sea glass to the sunlight, letting it catch the morning rays.

“I know what you mean, and I share your commitment to preserving the oceans,” you begin, your voice calm and measured. “But sea glass is unique. It begins as discarded glass, broken and abandoned in the sea. The constant ebb and flow of the waves polish and shape it, turning it into something beautiful.”

As you speak, you notice a hint of curiosity in Orm’s eyes, prompting you to continue. “It’s a reminder of the resilience of nature, how it can take something thrown away and transform it into a treasure. People collect sea glass for its unique beauty, each piece telling a story of its own. Some see it as a symbol of hope and renewal.”

You meet Orm’s eyes and then shift your attention back to the sea glass. The radiant blue hue of the glass is strikingly similar to the colour of Orm’s eyes.

You lick your lips and smile, holding up the sea glass beside Orm’s head to compare the shades of blue between the glass and his eyes.

In the sunlight, his eyes possess a deep, intense azure with specs of cobalt dancing within, reminiscent of the vast ocean, while the sea glass reflects the brilliance of the sun in a gleaming, bright and vibrant cerulean. The shades align so perfectly that for a moment, it seems as if the sea glass and Orm’s eyes share the exact same captivating colour.

A furrow forms on Orm’s brow, his gaze shifting between the sea glass and your actions, a hint of curiosity and perhaps amusement in his expression.

You lower your hand, gently cradling the sea glass in your palm.

“It looks just like his eyes,” you murmur to yourself in a quiet voice as if the realisation carries a more profound significance. The uncanny resemblance between the sea glass and Orm’s eyes strikes you, resonating as a symbolic link to his deep connection with the ocean.

You look at the glass and then back at Orm, a smile playing on your lips. “I think I’ll keep this. It reminds me so much of you,” you confess.

Orm arches an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Oh?”

You hold it up beside his face again as if to show him. “The colour. It’s the same shade as your eyes. That incredibly beautiful, deep blue.”

He chuckles, a warm, loving smile forming on his lips.

Mumbling more to yourself than to him as you tuck the sea glass into your pocket, you add, “Beautiful and unique.”

Orm blinks, a subtle blush colouring his neck and cheeks.

His movements are gentle and deliberate as he reaches out, his large hands cupping your face with a tender touch. His eyes, deep pools of blue, lock onto yours, and there’s an intensity in his gaze that goes beyond words.

Feeling the heat of Orm’s hands on your face, you reciprocate by placing your hands on his chest.

The warmth he radiates envelops you, and a subtle electric charge courses beneath your skin as he softly caresses your cheek while maintaining eye contact.

Lowering his head, Orm’s lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

The touch is soft and deliberate, and you respond with equal warmth. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and there’s a conscious, unhurried quality to the way he kisses you.

Every touch seems to send a jolt through your entire being. Each soft press of his lips makes your skin prickle with anticipation, creating a symphony of sensations that resonate deep within. The warmth of his touch ignites a subtle fire, and your heart responds with an accelerated beat.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers grazing over the defined muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his touch and the subtle scent that surrounds him create an intimate atmosphere, cocooning you both in that moment.

Orm’s hands, initially cradling your face, move with a delicate purpose. One hand trails down to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, while the other rests on the small of your back, pulling you even closer to his thick frame. You melt into his touch, the strength of his embrace providing a sense of security and warmth.

There’s a softness in the way he kisses you, a tenderness that speaks volumes. The world outside seems to fade away as you get lost in the sensation, savouring each gentle press of his lips. The kiss is a careful exploration, a moment where time seems to slow down.

As the kiss gently concludes, you and Orm find yourselves still entwined in the embrace, the lingering warmth of the moment enveloping you.

You’re left with a sweet aftertaste, a lingering warmth that echoes in the space between you. Every fibre of your being is alive with the resonance of this connection.

You look into each other’s eyes, the intensity reflected in the depth of your gazes. The sun’s golden rays, now slightly lower in the sky, cast a warm, honeyed glow upon the water, transforming it into a canvas of liquid gold.

Orm’s hair frames his face in unruly waves, and his eyes, still vibrant with the earlier intensity, now carry a softened glow. The sunlight plays upon the azure hue, creating a captivating dance of light and shadow in the depths of his gaze. You notice the subtle variations of blue in his eyes, ranging from the lightest cerulean to the deepest navy, each shade telling a story of its own.

In the background, the gentle lapping of the waves provides a soothing soundtrack to the intimate moment.

As if attuned to an invisible current, Orm leans in, placing his forehead against yours.

With your eyes fluttering closed again, you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, a comforting rhythm that matches the cadence of your own breath.

Orm’s arms, firm and secure, pull you even closer to his frame, and you feel yourself melting into his touch. His hands find a comfortable place at your waist.

The closeness intensifies the sensation of his presence, making every point of contact between your bodies an electric current that sends delightful shivers down your spine. His warmth is a comforting embrace, and the scent of saltwater and a hint of him linger in the air.

With your eyes still closed, you feel his breath, warm and steady, against your skin.

Each touch and caress makes your skin prickle with a delightful awareness. The world beyond the embrace seems distant, irrelevant, as if time itself has granted you this sacred interlude.

As you stand there, forehead to forehead, the ambient sounds of the sea surround you like a protective shield. The soft lull of the waves, the distant cries of seagulls, and the gentle rustle of the breeze through Orm’s hair weave together into a melodic tapestry that encapsulates the magic of the moment.

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 1 year

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𝟐𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 '𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭' 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: Everyone has their own coping mechanisms when dealing with stress, their way of simply forgetting whatever was happening in their life, at least for a moment. Yours happened to come in the form of baking in the late hours of the night as you tried to ignore your worries for Simon as he was on his mission.

You bake at 2AM as you wait for Simon to come home.

Warnings: None! Only the fluffiest of fluff, you know the drill.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Notes: This definitely didn't come to mind as I myself was baking at 2AM, no! Never! (side note, the cookies and cinnamon rolls came out great, hehe). Anyway hi, this is my first time writing for Simon, recently fell down the COD rabbit hole and all so apologies if anything is off. Aside from that, this is just a short lil fic that started off as a headcanon that spiralled out of control. Happy reading my lovelies!

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You're up late at night, again. Not that you could help it, thoughts were flying through your head at just about a million miles per minute. About how worried you are about Simon on his mission, about what could have happened to him, if he was uninjured, healthy, safe. It was like this every time he had a mission, and yet every time it became no less difficult. Being a part of an elite task force was an honour yes, but with honour comes the dangers of being placed on the most difficult of missions. And while even though you were at home, safe and sound, it scared you, the unknowing of what could happen to him. But more than that, you missed him. More than anything.

So to get your mind off of all the 'what-ifs' in your head, you bake. All sorts of things, cinnamon buns, apple pie, those lemon crinkle cookies you knew Simon adored so much. Following a recipe step by step to ensure a lovely end product managed to distract you at least for a bit, until you were left to your own devices once more after it was done. But it acted as salvation while it lasted, allowing an escape from the dark corners of your mind.

✧

Music fills the kitchen as you hum along, measuring and mixing ingredients as you swayed to the beat.

Your focus is entirely on what's in front of you, the task was for getting your mind off of Simon after all, so unbeknownst to you the door opens as the one person you were trying to distract yourself from comes home.

He walks in almost silently, there was a reason his callsign was Ghost, and drops his gear down by the entrance to go in search of you. It wasn't difficult, the lights acting as a pathway straight to where you were, the music going along with it. Stepping quietly, Simon makes his way over to the kitchen and for a moment he just stands leaning on the doorframe watching you flit about. An impossible fondness fills his eyes and chest as he does, you being so in you element always left him feeling that way. You doing anything really with him being there to witness it, because it means that he's finally home, at long last. But any place he could call home, so long as you were a part of it.

Once you finally stood still for a bit, mixing a part of the recipe, Simon makes his way over to you. Without a word he wraps his arms around your waist as you let out a gasp of surprise, tensing for a moment at the unexpectedness before relaxing once more as you realize who it is. In an instant the bowl is forgotten as you turn in his arms.

"Simon," you say softly, a smile overtaking your features as you return his embrace.

"Darling," he says, tone matching yours as he gazes into your eyes.

Nothing more needed to be said, he was home, and that was enough.

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Notes: And done! Just a really short fic, I think maybe even the shortest I've ever written, but sweet nonetheless. I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you

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avastrasposts · 4 months

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A Baker's Dozen - Eight

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Pedro boy number eight is ready to swagger into the bakery and I've only got four more weeks of this! I realised the very final chapter would be posted on February 12th so lets delay it by two days and end this on Valentine's Day, seeing as this is the fluffiest, most romantic thing I've ever written. Feels very appropriate to end it with my favourite Pedro boy on Valentine's Day. 🥰

This chapter is dedicated to my lovely, sweet friend @ladybess-a03 who, in my world, is this Pedro boy's beautiful wife.

Series Master List

“Is the rodeo in town?” the kid who works extra over the weekends in the bakery asks, raising their eyebrows and nodding towards the window. You look over and catch a glimpse of the man striding across the street. The comment is pretty accurate, he certainly looks like a cowboy; a slick cowboy dressed up for the city in a well tailored suit that hugs his narrow hips and wide shoulders, topped off with a black Stetson and suede shoulder patches.

“Pretty good looking cowboy,” you say and the kid snorts, hanging their apron on the hook and giving you a quick wave goodbye. The cowboy reaches the bakery door and holds open the door for them before he steps inside.

“Afternoon, miss,” he says, greeting you with a polite tip of his Stetson, two fingers on the brim, as he saunters up to the counter, his lips quirking up in a smile.

“Afternoon, sir,” you reply, returning his polite greeting with a smile of your own. Internally you’re swooning and giggling, there’s a smoothness to the man that makes you want to twirl your imaginary braid and kick your heels.

“Sir,” he says, chuckling as he puts one hand on the counter, the other on his hip, pushing back his jacket and revealing a large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask, “makes me feel about a hundred, darlin’. Call me Jack.” He offers you his hand, dwarfing your own as you shake it.

“Alright, how can I help you, Jack?” you ask as the warmth of his hand lingers on yours.

“Pie, sugar, I’m in a real mood for some pie,” he says, patting his belly with a grin, “And I heard you might be the best baker in town so I had to see for myself,” he winks, “if the rumors are true.”

“I don’t know about best baker in town,” you smile back, “but thanks for the vote of confidence. What kind of pie are you in the mood for?”

“Well, I’m an old fashioned cowboy, southern born and bred, so I doubt you’ll be surprised when you hear that I’d love some pecan pie, sugar,” he says, pointing to the one pecan pie you have in your display.

“Not old fashioned,” you say, crouching down to slide the pie out, “but maybe traditional. And it’s a great pie,” you put it on the counter and Jack chuckles.

“Honey, I’m anything but traditional, but I have a soft spot for pecan pie,” he says, putting an arm up on the display case and leaning in, his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin, “Sweet pecan pie, and sweet bakers,” he winks at you again and you feel your cheeks heat up and busy yourself adjusting the pie on the counter, trying to bite back the grin that’s threatening to split your face in half before you look up at the smiling cowboy again, his dark eyes twinkling under the brim of his Stetson.

“Would you like the whole thing, or just a slice?” you ask and Jack grins.

“Oh, sugar, I want the whole damn thing,” he replies and you swallow loudly. He keeps his eyes on you as you squirm under his gaze, your cheeks burning up as you quickly duck under the counter and grab one of the take away boxes. You’ve never met a man who so shamelessly flirts with anyone and you hear him chuckle as you look for the right sized box.

Jack is still smiling as you pop back up and start folding the flat cardboard, butterflies fluttering in your stomach under his gaze.

“This pie sure smells wonderful, darlin’,” he says, leaning in closer and drawing a deep breath, his arm still on the display case as he puts a hand on his waist, but he’s got his eyes on you, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile under his neat mustache.

“I hope it’ll taste as good as it smells then,” you reply, just to reply something. His over the top charm shouldn’t be getting to you so easily, but you’re practically a puddle at this point, any coherent sentence from you is a win and Jack seems to notice your reaction to his flirting and clearly loves how he’s getting to you, judging by the size of his grin.

“I’m absolutely certain it will be every bit as sweet as you, sugar,” he purrs, his hand coming up to rub over his smooth jaw.

You manage to slide the pie into the box and close the lid, pushing it over the counter to Jack, giving him a flustered smile.

“Here you go then, enjoy,” you say, “Please let me know what you think, if you’re passing by again.”

“And what do I owe you, honey?” he asks, reaching back and pulling out a slim black wallet from his pocket.

“Uh…umm…” you stutter, the prices, that are usually seared into your brain, have wandered off under the onslaught of Jack’s charm and you fumble for the price list next to the till, “Twenty-four, ninety-nine,” you finally get out and Jack pulls out two twenties and hands them over.

“Keep the change, sugar, you’re undercharging for both the pie and the company,” he says, grinning as he winks at you again.

“Oh thank you, sir-Jack,” you reply, “but that’s really not necessary.”

“I know, but I want to,” he smiles, softer this time, “And I’ll be sure to let you know how much I like it,” He slides a hand under the box, carefully lifting it up as he tips his hat at you, two fingers on the brim again.

“Have a good evening, darlin’,”

“Same to you Jack, enjoy the pie.”

“Oh, I will, I’m sure,” Jack grins, pushing the door open, letting a new customer in.

“Ma’am,” he says, giving her a tip of his hat before he disappears with a final smile at you.

“What a handsome man,” Mrs Morales says as she comes up to the counter, “and such good manners.”

“He was very well mannered,” you smile at her as she comes up to the counter, “What can I get for you today, Mrs Morales?”

…

When the doorbell jingles in the middle of the morning a few days later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Jack’s smiling face above the small crowd of customers. He gives you a two fingered salute, tipping his hat, before he sits down at one of the café tables to wait. The crowd slowly thins out and eventually it’s Jack’s turn, and you notice that he’s choosing to wait until he can be served by you and not your shop assistant.

“Hi Jack,” you smile at him as he comes over. He’s opted for a more casual look today you notice, a black leather jacket and white t-shirt instead of his slick suit, but the Stetson is still on his head as he gives you a crooked grin.

“Hi there, sugar,” he drawls, his southern twang even more pronounced, “you’re looking real gorgeous today, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He winks as he leans on the counter, giving you his most winning smile and you can practically hear the eye roll from your assistant down by the till.

“Thanks, you’re not looking to shabby yourself,” you smile back at him and he puffs his chest, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“How was the pecan pie?” you ask and Jack grins widely.

“Just as sweet as the gorgeous baker girl who made it,” he croons, “I may have eaten the whole thing already.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” you smile, your cheeks heating up at his praise and Jack chuckles, taking off his Stetson and fanning you with it.

“Is it hot in here, darlin’, or is my praise heating you up there?”

“Oh shut up,” you reply, trying to give him a scowl but failing as he runs his free hand through his dark hair, smoothing out the unruly locks that have been hidden under his hat, before he puts it back on. The simple action shouldn’t make a shiver run down your spine but you feel your mind go temporarily blank as he adjusts the brim to his liking. As he cocks his head and gives you a playful smirk, the corner of his lip curling up, you try to snap out of it.

“So what can I do for you today, Jack?”

“How about another pecan pie, darlin’?” he asks, glancing over the display cases and spotting the one you made this morning.

“Another one?”

“What can I say, your pie is calling my name, sugar,” he grins and winks at you, hooking his thumb into the pocket of his tight jeans.

“I’ll make sure to keep making it for you then, Jack,” you giggle and slide the fresh pecan pie from the shelf and into a carton.

“I’ll be a steady customer for sure,” he says and reaches back for his wallet, handing you his card with a smile, “no other bakery has better pecan pie.” You fight the grin on your face as you charge his card and go to hand it back to him, but he gently takes your hand instead, pulling you closer to him over the counter, “And the most gorgeous baker to make them,” he whispers, his low voice rich and warm as you feel his warm breath slip over your cheek.

He gives you a wink and lets go of your hand, stepping back from the counter and letting the next customer step forward as he tips his hat to you.

“What a charmer,” Mrs Levinson says, pulling your attention away from Jack as she puts her handbag on the counter. “But I always preferred a man in a suit, and a bit less forward if I may say so.” She wrinkles her nose at you, dismissing Jack as you try to stifle a giggle.

“I think he was just the right amount of forward, Mrs Levinson,” you reply with a smile, “Would you like your usual order today?”

“Yes please, dear. But add one of those Lemon Meringue Pies please. I’m going over to Mrs York’s place later,” she adds the last part with a sigh. “So sad, her son and his wife have just split up, they have two such beautiful daughters.”

“Didn’t they divorce last spring, Mrs Levinson?”

“Yes, at Easter, but he’s still single and she’s found some new man,” Mrs Levinson shakes her head as you place the pie next to her usual bread order, “he’s such a handsome boy, always wears a suit too, he’d be a real catch for you, my dear.”

“I’ve got plenty on my plate already, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, thinking of Jack’s flirting and tight jeans, “I just don’t have time for any more right now.”

“You have to let yourself have some fun too, can’t be all work,” the old lady scolds you mildly as you hand her the change and she puts everything away. “I’ll tell Mrs York to send him here for some time soon, I’m sure you’d like him.” She gives you a cheeky wink and waves goodbye, letting the next customer in line step up.

The next time Jack comes by the bakery, he’s back in his sharp suit, and tips his Stetson at you with a wink as he comes up to the counter.

“Seeing as I was found lacking last time, I thought it best to suit up,” he chuckles and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you laugh.

“Mrs Levinson has a sharp eye for handsome men, but might be a little bit old fashioned,” you reply, “But I do like your suit, it’s very ‘you’, Jack.”

“Thank you, sugar, I do like to dress the part for work,” he straightens his impeccable hat again.

“So what brings you back here, Jack? You can’t possibly have eaten two whole pecan pies in just a few days?”

“I certainly could’ve,” he chuckles, patting down the front of his suit jacket, “but I was kind enough to share it with my colleagues and told them you have the best pie in town, and I think you might be getting more customers soon.”

“That’s very nice of you, and thanks for the recommendation”, you smile, but Jack shakes his head.

“Only telling the truth, sugar,” he winks, “and I’ve promised them to bring another pie tomorrow so could I trouble you?”

“Of course, I’ve been making extra just for you, Jack” you smile and Jack’s face lights up, a wide grin making a dimple appear in his cheek as he rubs a hand over his neat mustache.

“Honey, you’re spoiling me rotten, how can I ever repay you?”

“Well, I’d say twenty-four, ninety-nine, but this one’s on the house,” you scoot the box with the pie over the counter towards Jack who’s furiously shaking his head.

“You know I can’t accept that, sugar. You’re already undercharging as it is,” he says, pulling out his wallet from inside his suit jacket as you raise your hand to stop him.

“Jack, if you pull out that wallet any further I’ll have to ban you from the bakery, it’s on the house.”

Jack’s eyes go wide, “You wouldn’t?” he exclaims with mock horror as you nod emphatically.

“Oh I would, Jack,” you grin, pointing to the door, “Now take your pie and leave that wallet in your pocket.”

Jack shakes his head as he picks up the pie box, “I’ll pay you somehow, sugar, but thank you very much for the pie.”

“You’re very welcome, Jack,” you smile at him as he carefully brings two fingers to the brim of his Stetson and gives you a nod.

“‘Till next time, darlin’.”

You do sell a couple of more pecan pies over the next few days and you wonder if your new customers are Jack’s colleagues as you add extra pecans to your online grocery order. Thanks to Jack you’ve gone through your stores of pecans in record time, and as you tap your pen on your notebook you toy with the idea of making variations of it for Jack to try. The jingle of the bell above the bakery door pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up. Your heart skips a little beat when you recognise the black Stetson.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Jack calls to you as he spots you in the kitchen, “I’m not too late am I?”

“Not at all, I’m closing in about five minutes, I’m just ordering next week’s groceries,” you wave him in behind the counter and he comes to the door into your kitchen, putting an arm up over his head as he leans on the frame.

“More pecans?” he winks and you laugh.

“How did you know? I’m running low on them, someone keeps buying all my pies.”

“A few of my colleagues said they’ve stopped by and bought a couple of pies,” he says as you try to discreetly glance at his tall frame as he leans against the door post. He’s back in his white t-shirt and black leather jacket this evening, and the way the shirt rides up over the edge of his tight jeans as he stretches his arm, a sliver of tanned skin peeking out, has your mind going blank.

“Oh, y-yeah,” you stutter as your brain slowly comes back online, “A very nice woman with short black hair and glasses came in and bought one, but it was busy and I didn’t get a chance to ask if she worked with you.”

“Ginger,” Jack smiles, “she’s the one who asked me where I got it. Tried telling her I made it myself but, funnily, she didn’t buy it,” he chuckles and comes into the kitchen, leaning over your shoulder to look down at your notes, “What are you working on there, sugar?”

“I was thinking of making some variations of the pie,” you say, “maybe one with a hint of lemon, or a bourbon chocolate one?”

“Now you’re talking my kind of language, sugar,” Jack grins, tapping the ridiculously large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask that sits on his belt.

“Don’t tell me you actually have bourbon in that?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up and Jack nods and grins.

“Of course, sugar! Never know when I might need a shot,” he laughs, unclipping the hip flask from his belt and flipping open the top, holding out for you to smell. The rich, warm aroma of the bourbon wafts up and you inhale deeply. “That smells so good, Jack, it’s giving me ideas!”

“What kinds of ideas, sugar?” Jack drawls, winking at you as he leans on your workbench, his eyes suddenly level with yours, all chocolate brown and warm. Your cheeks heat up as he takes a swig from the hip flask, his eyes never leaving yours, and then offers it to you.

“Baking ideas,” you force out, almost jumping out of your skin as his fingers slip over your hand when you take the flask from him. The warm whiskey goes down smooth and warm, heating you up from the inside as it lands in your belly, and your eyes come back to Jack’s. He’s looking at you with a smile, one corner of his mouth pulled up as he takes the flask back from you.

“Are you making me a new pecan pie straight away, honey? Because I absolutely have room for dessert…” he trails off with a quirk of his eye brows. You bite down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot, little hot sparks are erupting in your stomach and they have nothing to do with the bourbon. Jack runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of his lip, catching an errant drop of whiskey and you follow the movement with your eyes, his plush bottom lip disappearing for a moment as he sucks it in, wetting it.

“Cream!” you blurt out.

Jack raises his eyebrows questioningly, “Cream?” The tone of his voice has dropped about an octave and there’s no mistaking the suggestion in his voice.

“No! Yes! I-I mean, whipped cream, with bourbon, for the pie,” you flounder, pointing to Jack’s hip flask as his smile widens.

“That sounds like the most perfect addition to your pie, sugar. Right now?”

“Yeah, if I can use a few tablespoons of your whiskey?”

“You can have whatever you want, darlin’,” Jack replies, unclipping the bottle again and handing it to you.

“Grab the pie from the display case,” you tell him as you open the fridge to pull out the whipping cream. You hear Jack go back to the front and bring the pie back to the workbench, as you pull out a hand mixer and a bowl, he shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it on the back of your chair before he comes back to the table. The white t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders as he leans on the workbench next to you.

“So I finally get to see you in action,” he says as you measure out two tablespoons of whiskey from his flask before handing it back to him.

“For about the two minutes it’s going to take to make this,” you smile and start the hand mixer. Jack grabs the bowl and holds it steady while you slowly start whipping the cream, adding powdered sugar as you go along with the whiskey. Soon the cream has transformed to pillowy clouds and you stop the mixer. You can smell the bourbon and so can Jack, he leans forward and inhales deeply.

“This smells gorgeous, sugar, just the thing for the pie I think.”

You giggle as he stands up again, a small dollop of cream clinging to the tip of his nose.

“You’ve got some cream on your nose there, Jack,” you smile and Jack laughs, going cross eyed as he tries to spot it. With a swipe of his finger he catches the dollop and puts his finger in his mouth.

“Mmm…delicious,” he says, grinning around his finger as you smile back at him, grabbing a couple of plates and a knife for cutting.

“Should be even better with the pie,” you say, giving Jack a generous slice and then cutting another one for yourself before spooning the bourbon infused cream next to both slices.

Jumping up on the workbench, you grab your plate as Jack takes a step closer, picking up his own piece. You swipe your finger through the cream on your plate, wanting to taste it without the pie first. But Jack beats you to it, his hand comes out and grabs your wrist, his calloused fingers closing gently around your soft skin as he pulls your hand to his lips. The wet heat of his mouth envelops your finger as he sucks it in, his tongue brushing over your digit, and you gasp.

The sensation of his tongue running along your finger shoots electricity through your body and you exhale sharply, your eyes locked on Jack’s mouth as he studies your reaction. As your eyes come back up to his he lets your finger slip from between his lips, leaning forward and capturing your chin with his hand. He pauses for a second, waiting for your permission, and as you lean into him, he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. A low groan slips from him and the taste of bourbon and cream fills your mouth as he tenderly dips his tongue in between your lips. Your hand comes up to his shoulder to brace yourself, his hot mouth on yours making your pulse rase. You lean into him, needing to taste more of his mouth and his arm comes around your waist, pulling you close.

“You taste even better than the pie, sugar,” Jack mumbles against your mouth, cupping your cheek with his large hand as you chase his lips.

“You too, Jack,” you moan, letting him angle your face so that he can deepen the kiss, fervently licking into your mouth as he pulls you closer to his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist where he stands between them. His body is warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, his muscles moving under your palms as you explore the planes of his back. Jack lets his mustache tickle across your cheek, your jawline, as he slowly moves his lips with small, wet kisses, along your sensitive skin, trailing a path down your neck. His dark hair is thick and soft when you curl your fingers into the back of it, Jack tilting your head back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his nose buried in your hair.

“So sweet, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice muffled, “smells like butter and sugar.”

“Come up here and kiss my lips again, Jack,” you protest, tugging light at his hair and he chuckles, inhaling deeply.

“Anything for you, honey,” he replies, his big hand cupping the back of your head as he drags the cool tip of his nose up your neck and jaw, bumping against yours. When you lock eyes again he’s smiling softly, all the confident cockyness gone, replaced by warmth and affection. His lips part slowly as you pull him closer, his tongue teasing yours, making you lick into his mouth.

He hums softly, his hand caressing your back, finding the divot of your spin and trailing his fingers up and down. In the quiet kitchen all you can hear are his low groans and your own gasps as each kiss traces sparks along your nerves. Jack’s fingers press into your back as heat builds between you, his hips slowly grinding in a movement so unhurried it’s as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. When his warm palms find their way up under your shirt, rough calluses stroking gently over your curves, you lean back, pulling him with you until you're flat on your back, Jack leaning down over you.

“Gorgeous…” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck again, his hands pushing further up your shirt.

“Oh no!” he suddenly exclaims, lifting his head up from your throat and holding up his hand, covered in mushed up pecan pie.

“You’re on top of it, honey,” he laughs, helping you sit up, and you hear the plate clatter to the bench behind you. Now that you’re up, you can feel the stickiness against your back, and you twist, trying to see how much of a mess you’ve made.

“Is it all over my back?” you ask and Jack looks over your shoulder and nods.

“I’m afraid so, sugar, your shirts covered in it. Do you have something to change into?”

“No, I took everything home to wash yesterday,” you grumble, twisting your arm up behind your back and feeling the remains of the pie.

“Here,” Jack says, standing up straight and swiftly pulling his own t-shirt off, “I’ll wear just the jacket, you take my shirt.” He holds it out to you and you hesitate, temporarily mesmerized by the sudden sight of Jack’s bare chest, tan and smooth with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans.

You swallow and pull your eyes up to his face again, “I can’t take your t-shirt, Jack.”

“Why not? Take it, I’ve got plenty more, and I kinda like the idea of you in my shirt,” he winks and takes a step closer again, making you grab his shirt as he bends and places a wet kiss on your lips, “And this way, I can come by your place and pick it up. Or leave another one.”

He grins as stands up again, “C’mon, sugar, take that one off and let me see you in mine.” He helps you by putting his hands back on your waist and pushing up under your ruined shirt. You peel it off gingerly, trying to avoid getting pie in your hair, and Jack’s eyes darken as you sit in front of him in just your bra.

“Want me to put it on straight away, Jack?” you tease him as you watch him take in your shape.

“No..but yeah, or we’re not leaving this bakery anytime soon, darlin’,” he chuckles, and you pull his t-shirt over your head as Jack sighs in mock disappointment. The soft cotton is still warm from his body and smells just like Jack, you have to inhale as it slips over your head. When you pop out from underneath it Jack is watching you with a small smile.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, his hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Do you want more pie, Jack?” you ask, pointing to the remaining pie and Jack’s eyebrows quirk up.

“What do you think, sugar?” he smirks and you laugh.

“I think you’ve got three empty pie forms at home and an extra hole in your belt.”

“Not yet, but soon,” he grins, patting his small belly, “C’mon, sugar, let me drive you, make sure my shirt gets to its new home safely.”

“I’ve got my own car, but thanks for the offer, Jack,” you smile at him and slip your arms around his neck again. “Come by soon, I’ll have more pie for you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar.”

Part Nine

This week's recipe comes courtesy of @goodwithcheese who shared her own Pecan Pie recipe with me! Thank you Megan!

Megan’s Pecan Pie 3 eggs ½ cup/100g sugar 1 cup/250 ml dark corn syrup 3 tablespoons melted butter 1 teaspoon vanilla ¼ teaspoon salt 2 cups/approx 250g chopped pecans Whisk together all ingredients except the pecans. Stir in the pecans and pour the mixture into an unbaked pie crust and bake for 40 minutes at 350F/175C.

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic

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bunwritesss · 8 months

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Burnt Pancakes And Chocolate Kisses

Summary: You have a mission: make sure Daryl's first morning at your new house in Alexandria is the best morning in the entire world. Will you succeed?

Genre: Fluff. The fluffiest thing I've ever written. 💕

A/N: Hiiii everyone!!! I am so proud of this one, I think Daryl is so adorable in it!! 💕 Also thank you so much for your cute comments, feeling like my writing is appreciated encourages me so much more than you think! I love y'all <3 Also as always I apologize for the english mistakes!

t felt weird, everything felt weird.

Your group had started moving into the houses that had been offered to you by Deanna, and you had begged Daryl to move in with you into one of those. Your pleading eyes and the excitement in your voice when you mentioned showers and proper beds conviced him to follow you within a heartbeat. You had moved in during the afternoon, both keeping your meager possessions into a corner of the room. This way, it would be easier to grab if something went wrong. You were happy to have found such a peaceful place, but you weren't dumb.

Neither of you slept well during the first night. You had tossed and turned into the bed, and even Daryl's soothing arms around your restless form did not help. You were both alert, unable to calm down.

But as the optimistic of the group, you did not let this awful night put you down. You got up early after a good two hours of rest, satisfied to see Daryl had fallen asleep as well, the exhaustion finally getting to him. You immediatly went to take a shower. The hot water hitting your shoulders and the dirt leaving your body had made you tear up, and you had spent a few minutes obsessively smelling the bodywash and shampoo that you found in the shower. You swore it was the best thing you had ever smelled. And as you left the bathroom, with a clean body that smelled like strawberries, a peaceful mind, and the biggest grin in your life, all dolled-up in cute jeans and a purple (purple! finally some clothes with non-neutral colors!) top, you had one mission. Make sure Daryl spent a good morning as well.

You knew the man did not miss domesticity as much as you, and you knew Alexandria and its dumb leader had taken a toll on him. He spoke even less than before, tensing every time a stranger approached you or someone in your group. And you knew he would not stay in bed for long, even though he clearly needed some more rest. So you did not have much time to make the perfect breakfast in bed for him.

Making the batter of the pancakes did not take long, the recipe was almost engraved into your mind. And thankfully, everything you needed was already in your pantry, or your fridge (and yes, you teared up when you felt the cool air on your skin. The lack of rest really did not help with your fragile state). Feeling bold, you dropped half a pack of chocolate chips into your mix. Chocolate was a rare thing to find during these times, but you both deserved it.

'Yer food is burning.'

You hummed to yourself as you turned the heat on, greasing a pan and letting your pancakes cook. As they did, you poured two glasses of apple juice, inhaling the smell of it with a tearful smile. You had showers now! Showers and a bed and apple juice and purple clothes and Daryl! If you were not so focused on your mission, you could have started crying right there, right now.

You went on finding the cutest plates in your cupboard, leaving the most basic ones at the bottom, and kept humming as you tried to find some kind of syrup to pour on your pancakes.

Daryl's voice startled you as you were pouring some chocolate chips into your mouth, eager to taste it again, and your eyes widened. The pancakes! You turned to the pan, and cringed at the look of your burnt pancakes, the room slowly filling up with smoke.

'Fuck!' You swore.

Daryl was quicker than you, turning the heat down and discarding the burnt pieces of coal (you couldn't call these pancakes anymore) into the trash. He smiled fondly at your bashful expression, placing the pan back.

You frowned playfully, letting him take care of the rest of the pancakes. You sat on the counter with your legs crossed, looking carefully as he poured the batter onto the pan.

'Why don't I cook these for ya, trouble?'

'It was supposed to be a breakfast in bed!' You protested.

'I'd have stayed into bed if I hadn't been woken up by the smell of burnt stuff.' He teased you.

He carefully placed the pancakes on the plates you had chosen, giving you the biggest ones, as he always did. You did not move from the counter and he simply sat on the table, munching on the pancakes like a starved man. Which he was, since you were both too tired to cook during the previous night, eating whatever could be eaten raw in the kitchen. You ate as gracefully as he did, both of your chins covered in chocolate. And as you finished eating, you both sighed contentedly at the same time. The shared sound made you giggle as Daryl gave you a confused look.

'The trick is to take them off the heat at some point.' He kept mocking you and you snorted, swatting his hip with a kitchen towel.

'Look, if you're this good at cooking, I'll let you make everything we eat.'

'Wouldn't mind doin' just that.' He said, his expression so sincere you almost felt the grateful tears coming back.

'I'm honestly so happy to be here!' You excitedly kicked your legs against the counterside, and then carefully placed both of your feet on Daryl's thighs. He rested his hands on your feet, enjoying your happy rambling. 'Are you happy, Daryl?'

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and he nodded with conviction. Alexandrians sucked, and whatever was going on between these walls was weird, but you were here with your chocolate-covered chin and your feet on his thighs, trying your best to make him an amazing breakfast, and smelling like artificial strawberries, so it was fine. The silent answer made you tear up again, and you rose from the counter, embracing him as you practically buzzed with happiness.

'I love you so fucking much.' You said, and his 'I love ya too' was muffled by your shoulder as you pecked his cheek, enjoying the chocolate stains you were spreading all over his face.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #daryl fluff

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 1 year

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(continuation of the continuation for the reaper of heroes au/writing prompt #3)

I said I was done with this writing prompt, didn't I? I lied. Brain won't let go.

← previous

✦

Healing Jason is slow going. Whatever was used to bind his soul back to his body with the chains already snapped and corroded was some really nasty stuff. Phantom worked tirelessly with the yetis of the Far Frozen to extract it from his underdeveloped core without causing his soul to separate again. It was excruciatingly painful for the man to go through but Phantom held onto his hand through the worst of it, even though Jason was too delirious to fully appreciate it.

In the end, the lazarus water was flushed out of his system and stored in a jar for later observations. Jason slept for many days afterwards as the yetis supplied his underdeveloped core with the nutrients it needed to finish forming. Phantom patiently waited by his side for as long as he was allowed in between his kingly/reaper duties.

Needless to say, it was quite a shock to Jason when he woke up to a strange white haired main sleeping silently in the chair next to his bed and the yeti dressed in a doctor's coat fixing a new bag of what looked to him was gently glowing lazarus water to his IV stand. Initially, he freaks out, waking Phantom up as Jason sprints out of the med room and out into below freezing weather. He can barely walk he's shivering so hard.

"You might wanna come back inside where it's warm. Unless you want to catch the rest of your death out there?" Is the first thing Phantom says to him after he woke up.

Jason goes back inside and is bundled in the fluffiest blankets he's ever seen. He asks what's going on and Phantom freely explains everything from the moment he collected his soul. How Clockwork had announced the unexpected creation of another halfa and the gruesome fate he would've had if Phantom hadn't found him and taken him to the Far Frozen when he did.

"Is that why you feel familiar? I've heard your voice before."

Phantom smiles sadly at him and nods his head in agreement. He apologizes once more for not being able to save him then and for not keeping his soul safe while he was most vulnerable. This is what Jason had imagined happening between him and Bruce so many times. Wishing for him to apologize for not making it in time. For letting the clown live. With some thought, Jason forgives Phantom and wonders at his ability to easily do so with the pit gone.

Jason is advised to stay in the Far Frozen until his core is fully developed and stabilized. Until then, Phantom teaches him what it means to be a halfa as well as about the Infinite Realms and his role as it's ruler. Jason is having a blast, surprisingly. Even more so when introduced to Ghostwriter and given permission to peruse his vast collection of every book ever written. Things are good so far. Things grind to a halt when the yetis call for Jason and Phantom's attention to something rather curious.

The jar that held the lazurus water has reformed into a ball the size of Jason's fist. A ball with large white eyes that looked up at them with black tears rolling down it's face that steadily dripped to the bottom of the jar.

✦

The sentient lazurus blob came out of no where, I swear. Regardless, I've decided the lazurus blob's name is Leslie and no one can change my mind. Their pronouns are they/them/it. Leslie is just scared and heavily misunderstood.

Leslie the Lazarus blob art by me

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny is ghost king #danny is the reaper of heroes souls #writing prompt #prompt #dp x dc prompt #leslie the lazurus blob #Reaper of Heroes AU #sleepy-writes-stuff

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sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

Firsts

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), slow burn, underage alcohol content, virgin! tom and virgin!reader, protected sex (if tom can wrap it, so can you), just the fluffiest smut i've ever written tbh, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v,

Summary: A boy you met in the playground has a far greater effect on your life than you could have imagined.

Word count: 12k

A/N: Ugh, hopefully this signifies the end of my writer's block. Thanks for hanging in there, gang! Enjoy my first Tom fic <3

Age 4

You sit on the roundabout cross-legged, indignantly pressing your hands into your cheeks. You look over at some of the other kids, playing with their friends. You wish you could have friends here too. Even though your parents took you here on holiday, and there’s loads of stuff at the holiday park specifically catered to kids your age, the most they’ll do is bring you to the park for half an hour or so before dragging you along to all the stupid, boring things that they want to do.

A boy with curly hair that sticks out in all directions and brown eyes that glisten when the midday sun hits them saunters up to you. “Hiya. Are you waiting for anyone else?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. You and your friends can have it.”

“Oh, I’m here by meself, too! Well not by meself, me mam’s here too, but I thought we could take it in turns!” He outstretches his hand, “I’m Thomas!”

You snort out a laugh. “Like the tank engine?”

“Shut up,” he frowns, making you giggle again.

“My dad’s friend’s name is Freder-eder-ded- Fredrid- Frederick, but we just call him Fred ’cause it’s easier. Maybe I can call you… Tom.”

His eyes light up. He has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. “I’d like that. Tom. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Your voice is weird,” you point out.

“Shut up!” he repeats. “Yours is the weird one.”

"Well, I've never heard one like yours before so that makes it weird. Now c’mon, you can spin me first,” you tell him, and with that, he wraps his hands around the metal pole of the roundabout and runs as fast as his tiny legs will take him.

Age 13

Another year, another caravan holiday. The older you get, the less tolerance you have for your parents’ boring excursions. But you absolutely love the downtime in between where you’re just at the caravan park. Because it means you get to hang out with your best friend.

As sad as you are to see your tradition go, of the pair of you picking out postcards for each other to spend all your holiday pocket money on to send to each other throughout the year, you are very excited to show him your birthday present since the last time you saw him.

“Hiya,” comes a familiar call from behind you as you sit at the roundabout that you first met Tom on. You run to him, with his arms outstretched wide, flinging your own around him as soon as you can reach him. His face buries into your cheek as you hug each other, his laughter filling your ears. “Got summat to show ya,” he says as you’re still embraced before pulling away.

“Oh, I have something to show you, too!” you grin, both of you fumbling through your pockets before you both brandish your mobile phones to each other.

With excited gasps, you recite your own numbers that you've memorised to each other, and immediately text each other, despite being feet away. You read your messages on each others’ screens as though it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come across.

The two of you walk down to the beach together, babbling on about school life and home life and everything in between life. You notice that Tom goes quiet after a little while, which isn’t like him. You sit down on a log you’d both claimed a few years ago, and Tom picks up a branch from the ground near it and starts drawing absent-mindedly in the sand. You ask with a frown, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah!” he lies, but you glare at him.

“Liar,” you shove him, and he laughs softly. “You think I can’t tell by now? What’s really wrong?”

He sighs, “Well… You know my best mate, Jake?” You nod. “Well, he got a - got a girlfriend last year.”

“You make that sound like that’s the worst thing in the world,” you laugh.

“Obviously it’s not,” he pulls a face at you. “But, like… I’m gonna have to… Kiss a girl at some point soon, aren’t I? It’s all Jake asks of me these days.”

You giggle, “What, is someone still afraid of getting girl germs?”

“No!” Tom elbows you in the side. “I’m...Worried I’ll be shit at it.”

You roll your eyes, “Nobody expects you to be good at it right off the bat!” Tom keeps looking at you sadly and you sigh. “What, you want to practise or something?”

Tom's eyes widen, then he nods slowly. “If that’s okay with you...”

You shrug, “I haven’t had any experience either, so...” you trail off. "I'll probably be shit, too."

“R-right, w-well,” Tom stammers, “I think I- I come over like this, a-and...” he leans towards you, resting a hand on your hip. He leans in close to you, tilting his head both ways. You try and match his movements, but at the last minute his nose crashes into yours and you both laugh nervously.

You try to play it cool, try to breathe deeply in case he can hear your heart thumping too. You’re so close to him right now you can see the little dip left by the dimple that forms when he smiles. The specks in his eyes that glow in the sun. Tom has been the love of your life - but you can’t say that, you’re only 13, you’ve barely lived.

You hold his jaw in place and move to him. His lips are smooth, warm, full, simply invigorating. He doesn’t respond at first, and you feel like kissing just his top lip probably isn't right, but after a few pecks from you he starts to kiss back. Feeling him push out to you makes you crave even more. He carries on with even more fervour until he suddenly stops, pulling back and whipping his hand back into his lap. He mumbles a “thanks” and goes back to poking the sand with his stick.

Your chest feels as though it’s made of lead. You excuse yourself and run all the way back to your caravan, heading straight to your bed and sobbing into your pillow. Of course he hated kissing you.

You do everything you can to avoid Tom for a while. You immerse yourself in everything your family wants to do, constantly asking what they’ve got planned to go out and do, emphasis on the go out bit. You switch your phone off so as not to be distracted by his texts. You rarely leave the caravan.

It’s only on the second-to-last day that your parents basically kick you out of the caravan for the day. Despite them giving you plenty of money to play in the arcade with, you find yourself sitting on one of the swings in the playpark, rocking yourself back and forth absentmindedly.

You don’t notice Tom approaching you, you’re too immersed in trying to think of anything else but him. He clears his throat to get your attention. You notice he’s breathless and red in the face, like he’s been sprinting. With a heavy heart, you nod at him in acknowledgement. “Hiya,” he starts softly.

“Hey.” you reply bluntly. You don’t mean to be so cold to him, you don’t want to be - but you have to be.

“You’ve been mad distant lately, are you all right?” Tom asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Nope, I’m half left, see,” you wave your left hand in the air half-heartedly and Tom chuckles.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot.” He chews on his lip before continuing, “Is it because of how I kissed?” You think about whether or not to answer honestly when he continues sadly, “Was I really that bad at it?”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, you were fine. I...I’ve been busy with holiday stuff! Parents, you know how it is.” You're lying through your teeth, but what did you expect? For Tom to also fall for you as soon as your lips connected? Of course not.

“Right,” Tom breathes out a sigh of relief before continuing, “but you normally don’t go along with that, if you can help it… Does that mean you don’t want to hang out with me any more?” His voice falters back to sadness.

“Well, no,” you blurt out before you can think of something else. Damn. You didn’t want to outright say no because you can’t keep making yourself feel like this. But you look at his smile, at the dimples that you could place on him from memory, at his eyes lit up like a Christmas display, at how his freckles dance up his cheeks, and all of that flies out the window.

“Good! Because - Well, it’s a bit stupid, I know, but they’re doing a thing in the entertainment hall tonight, since it’s most kids’ last day here before school starts, a-and I...I was wondering if...” he starts wringing his hands together.

“You’re worried you’ll look like Billy No-Mates if you turn up without a date and you don’t know any other girls here well enough,” you state simply.

“There’s… More to it than that,” Tom scrunches his face up.

Of course, what you’re unaware of is that Tom is terrified he’s lost you for good. That him being so nervous about being too eager to kiss you that he had to stop himself has been too obvious and ruined your first kiss and that he’s lost the girl he loves. But he won’t admit that. He’ll let you believe whatever you want as long as he gets to spend time with you again. As long as he gets to watch the sparkle in your eyes dance when you laugh, and the little twitch of the nose you do right before you start to think deeply about something, that’s all he wants back.

You, blissfully unaware of this, shrug in defeat, “Sure. It’ll be nice to catch up over the last few days, I guess.”

Tom grins, “Alright, sound! I mean, I doubt we’ll really be able to catch up at the dance, but...We could always grab dinner together at the restaurant bit beforehand, just me an’ you?”

“Sounds good,” you press your lips together and nod. Tom grins and waves goodbye as he leaves the park, leaving you to curse yourself. You’re just letting him walk all over you - to you, Tom is now your first friend, first kiss, first dinner date, first dance date; you feel like to Tom you’re just a test dummy.

Age 16

You knew he had a girlfriend, now. He’d phoned you about Ruth in the early days of knowing her, and despite everything, you’d talked him into asking her out. He deserves that happiness, even if he can't get it with you.

She had seemed really interested in getting to know you, too, at first. Tom was always telling you that she’d been asking questions constantly about you, and that he couldn’t wait for the two of you to meet. “My girls,” he’d always say. Your heart would soar 50 feet into the air just to plummet a hundred at those words.

Phone calls became less frequent as months went on. After you’d sent over your Christmas card and present to him, as per your tradition, you only got back a card that had your name written at the top, and “- Tom” at the bottom. Not the “Love,” that would always come before it. Not the little kiss he’d always put underneath his name. That really stung.

What was once a constant stream of texts from wishing each other good morning to goodnight every day for the last 3 years becomes occasional, which becomes non-existent. He doesn’t even text you on your birthday.

You beg and you plead with your parents to not go on the annual Cornwall holiday. Anywhere but. You’re 16 now, that’s plenty old enough to stay at home on your own. You’d be more than happy to have a neighbour check in on you regularly and spontaneously. Or a family member. Even your worst enemy, just - not there. Not facing him. And besides, you’re almost certain he won’t be alone with his parents this year.

And you’re right. She’s hanging off of his arm all the while the other regular teens crowd around them. They’re all just as much your friends as they are his. But this year you don’t feel welcome around them.

And it’s not just jealousy on your part. You’d even tried to be friendly. You’d practically skipped up to the both of them on your first day, after a lot of mental preparation, to a judgemental stare from Ruth that started from the moment she laid eyes on you, to the moment you left her field of vision. It burned especially strongly when Tom hugged you in greeting, even if you could have gotten a more meaningful exchange with a Lego figurine, with a just as emotionless, "Hiya."

It hurts when you end up seeing Ruth and Tom together and she’s the one who notices and suddenly drapes herself over him. It hurts more when it’s him that sees you first and he takes her by the hand and simply runs off with her.

It hurts the most when you catch them kissing on your log. Once again, 3 years later, you’re running from that beach to your caravan and you’re curling up in your bed crying your eyes out. Except, this year’s trip won’t end in a dinner where he feeds you his chips just because you didn’t ask for any with your meal and he wants to make sure you don’t nick all of his. It won’t end with a DJ asking everyone - and he means everyone - to make their way to the only slow-dance of the night, and Tom goofily dancing in ultra slow motion as he eventually encourages you to do the same. It’ll end in him doing that with her, while you sit and eat whatever your parents can make out of whatever’s left in the fridge and fight back the tears you haven’t yet cried while in the privacy of your own room.

It makes sense, after all. Tom being your first love, he was always destined to be your first heartbreak, too.

Age 17

You hear a moan fall into your mouth, you feel a hand grip on your arm. Another rests on your thigh. Your hand moves up to his hair, burying deep into his soft, brown curls. Except it doesn’t. It barely scrapes through the cropped, straight hair of your boyfriend.

You’d so loved that the guy on the other side of the classroom in your college class had noticed you, had asked you out. Your parents love him, your friends back home love him. And, as it had turned out, he’d even been holidaying at the same caravan park you always do. It’s just that while your family normally goes at the end of the summer break, his goes at the start. Your family let you go with his this year instead, which you’re thrilled about. Hopefully you can create memories with your boyfriend in Cornwall with absolutely no trace of Tom, who’s surely only going to be there in the last week, like always.

You don’t believe it when you see him and her in the distance, outside the window. You think you must be making it up. There’s no way. It’s only fleeting, so you shake it off and try to focus on being in the moment with your boyfriend. He takes you by the hand, leads you to your bedroom for the next week, sits you both on the bed and starts kissing you intensely. That’s when you start imagining him as Tom, again. This is exactly the opposite of what you wanted to happen.

Later on, when you’re on your way to the arcade, you spot an old friend from past trips. She excitedly greets you, states her surprise over seeing you so early in the summer, and tells you that she works here now. She tells you of a staff party that’s happening in one of the luxury chalets. It’s apparently a tradition, first weekend of every summer holiday period, the staff club together and buy it out for a weekend. She invites you both along, and you gleefully accept.

You speculate all week about what your first house party is going to be like. What being drunk for the first time is going to be like. Your boyfriend laughs at you every time. "You're hilarious. I can't wait to see how sloppy you get."

That makes you nervous. How much alcohol does it take to get you wasted? You were hoping to make sure you stayed of enough sound mind to remember it all. Would you really inevitably get "sloppy" and embarrass yourself?

When the party's finally in full swing, you're insistent on sticking to cans of soda. Your boyfriend frowns at you, demands to know why you're suddenly so shy over drinking after it being all you could talk about. You tell him you just need to build up to it, that it's a first time which makes it a big deal. He rolls his eyes and mutters something about first times and walks away.

You frown at that. There's only two main things about you and firsts. The fact that you and Tom may never share any more, which you've never discussed with your boyfriend; and that the first time the two of you had tried going beyond kissing, he'd called you…

No, you're not thinking about that. He said he's sure it's something you'll get over, and once you are, he'll be ready for you. You just need to try and rein it in for yourself. Did he resent you because you hadn't managed to keep it under control yet?

Your brain is swimming when you hear the one voice you'd simultaneously been waiting for and dreading. "Hiya!"

Taking a deep breath in and putting on a brave face, you feign surprise. “Oh my god, Tom! Hi! What are you doing here?!”

“Well, Ruth had made friends with one of the girls that works here, Jade, and she invited us - well, Ruth, but, y’know, we’re sort of a package deal,” he laughs awkwardly. “Um, so, what are you doing here?”

“Hayley works here now, an’ all! Remember her?”

Tom laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t surprise me in the slightest. ’Member how she was always the first to volunteer to get on stage?” You both laugh loudly before faltering into a weird silence. “So, found your tipple of choice, yet?” he asks, gesturing to the plastic cup in your hand.

“Oh!” You shake your head. “Not yet. I wouldn’t even know which one to start with. I’ve, uh, I’ve never really drank before.”

Tom chuckles, “Hey, me neither! Was gonna play it safe and go for a beer. Fancy indulging in my first one with me?”

“We’ve shared enough by now, haven’t we?” you ask with a small smile.

“So,” he starts as you both head into the kitchen. “You never really explained why you’re here this early.”

“Didn’t I? I’m here with my boyfriend and his family,” you explain.

Tom’s face falls, though you’re too busy navigating your way past everyone at the party to notice. “O-oh… Boyfriend? Is he… Y’know, good to you, an’ that?” He asks, his energy suddenly depleted.

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s great. Dunno where he is at the moment, but I’ll have to introduce you both while we’re here,” you nod.

“Definitely! I’ll let Ruth know you’re here, she can say hi to you an’ all.” Tom thankfully doesn’t notice your eyes rolling as he studies the drinks now in front of you both. Tom looks over his shoulder at you and jerks his head at the kitchen counter. “Pick our poison, then.”

You shrug, “I dunno, you said beer? Let’s go with that.”

Tom nods, grabbing a couple of bottles and an opener, clicking the lids off and handing one to you. “To us, eh? Finally growing up.”

WIth a defeated smile, you clink your bottle against his and you both take your first sips. Tom immediately pulls a face of disgust, which then turns to intrigue. He looks over at you and laughs as you stand there, looking as though you’ve squeezed an entire lemon out onto your tongue. “Maybe we’ll get you something sweeter. ’Ere, how about one of these flavoured vodkas? Stick some of that in with your Coke.”

You and Tom stay and chat for the best part of an hour, catching up on everything. It’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long while. Certainly this whole week. But then he talks about finding Ruth and for the first time all night, you think about where your boyfriend could be.

You take a lap of the cabin. And another. And another. Each time more and more anxious. Calling his name out is getting you nowhere.

And then you see a flash of him getting pulled into another room. You don’t see the other person. Their arm is especially slender, their painted nails gripping his shirt as he grins down at them. You stare at the door as it closes, in pure shock and horror.

Your ears ring until you eventually hear a faint, but familiar, “Hiya, what’s going on with you? You’ve been up and down like a bleedin’ yoyo!” Tom notices your lack of response and frowns. “What?” As you still don’t answer, he follows your line of vision and points, “In that door?” Your lip quivers and his face steels. “Right.”

The next few seconds happen in slow motion and high speed all at once. Tom swinging the door open. His, “You better not be who I fucking think you are, mate.” Him getting pinned against the wall by your (as of right now) ex. Tom spitting in his eye to get dropped. Your boyfri- ex-boyfriend’s, “Is she as fucking disgusting with you as she is with me?” as Tom tries to walk away. Tom’s face absolutely seething as he turns back around, strides up to your ex and punches him square in the face.

Finally, you find it in you to scream at Tom to stop, and then turn to your ex. “The actual fuck is wrong with you?! Acting a victim just because I was catching up with a friend while you were chatting girls up in the same fucking house?!”

“You know what? Fuck this. Make your own way home. Bitch,” your ex snarls as he pushes past you to the front door as he storms out of it.

You hear a, “What the fuck happened to you?!” and see Ruth approach with her new friend, a girl with just-above-shoulder-length hair. Ruth’s looking at Tom’s red knuckles in horror.

“I’m fine, babe, honest. It were just… That dickhead was feeling up some other bird while…” He gestures weakly at you.

Ruth presses her lips together and nods, “Right. So you’ll punch a guy for her, yeah?”

He groans, lolling his head back. “C’mon, Ruth, don’t be like that now, please. You know I’d do the same if it were you. Or even Jake, or any one of my friends, alright? Don’t mean nothin’.”

“Yeah, well. Think I’m gonna sleep over at Jade’s tonight, anyway. Wanna see how the staff live,” she explains, gesturing to her friend.

Tom looks a little dejected, but he shrugs it off. “Alright, it’s your holiday, too. Have fun. I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?” She nods, and he goes up to kiss her. You look away, wincing. She scowls at you as she walks past you to leave.

Someone else in the crowd snorts, “Don’t you think that’s a bit fucking dodgy?”

“What is?” Tom asks, turning to face them.

“Accusing you of cheating on her with a ‘friend’ and then conveniently sleeping over with a friend of her own?” They fold their arms to raise their eyebrows in suspicion at Tom.

He merely shrugs, carefree. “Exactly. It’s perfectly normal to just have friends, alright?” He sounds a little exasperated at that, holding his hands up. “It’d only be dodge if I were also up to no good. But I’m not, because I know that it’s okay to just hang out with a friend every now an’ then.” He looks at you and shrugs. “Listen, don’t worry about tonight. Mum and Dad had us in a twin room, anyway, I can pull the beds back apart again if you need a place to sleep. Till then, we can stay here, long as you like. Alright?”

You nod gratefully, pushing out a whispered, “Thank you.”

You hug him tightly and he gives you just as much back, rocking you gently from side to side before rubbing up and down your back and offering, “So, how’s about we go back and demolish all the vodka and coke in that kitchen, yeah?”

You awaken in a single bed, next to another single bed that has a stirring Tom in it. He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes awake, “Hiya.”

You groan, “Of all the first encounters we’ve had, I’m begging you to have looked into how to deal with our first hangovers.”

He snorts with laughter. “‘’Fraid not. Looks like we’re suffering together.”

“Fantastic,” you whine as you throw yourself to lay on your other side.

Age 18

Even now that you’re legally an adult, that caravan park in Cornwall never evades you. You’d wanted to go on one of those big pre-university holidays to Spain or Greece like most 18 year olds do, but too many plans kept falling through and things kept going wrong and so, in order to catch some kind of break, you end up giving into your friend Hayley’s offer to stay with her for the holiday period. The friend that works there.

The staff living quarters are identical to the rest of the caravan park, with the exception of a common area with a bonfire. As you’re carrying your suitcase past it, you spot her. Again. Of course. You await the disgusted glare she’s about to give you, but she doesn’t seem to acknowledge your existence in the slightest. Hayley catches up with you, notices, and nudges you, “You know, she’s actually a lot more chilled out now that she’s with Jade instead.”

You double-take so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. “She’s wi- You mean, with?” Your friend nods. “Aww. Well, good for her, I guess.”

Once you’re in the caravan, you take out your phone and tap through to yours and Tom’s text history. You read back the last text you’d had from him, almost a year ago:

Hiya. Hope you’re alright, and you got on the train okay. Listen, I know I said all that guff about us just being friends, and I know that’s what both of us have always been, but Ruth’s proper upset about it. It was really good to see you again, but I don’t think we should talk while this is still fresh. Safe travels.

You wonder why he never thought to text you even after they’d broken up. Did he even want to hear from you again? You bite the bullet and text anyway:

Hey, stranger! Heard about you and Ruth. Sorry to hear it. Hope you’re doing well.

Hiya, yourself! Yeah, thanks, I’m holding up. Better for us all, really. How’d you hear, if you don’t mind me asking? x

Saw her at the caravan site and she didn’t give me evils, lol.

YOU’RE HERE?! :D x

Yeah!

Wait, when you say *here*...

What caravan are you staying in? x

One of the staff ones, 159. Why?

He doesn’t text back as quickly after that, so you instead start fixing up some lunch for you and your friend. She goes down to the shop to pick up something for the two of you to drink, and while you have the caravan to yourself, there’s a hurried knocking at the door. You assume Hayley told her bosses that she’s got someone living with her over the summer - she does have one of the ‘luxury’ two-bed caravans, after all - so there should be no problem with you answering it.

You don’t even get a good look at who it is before you’re being swept up in their arms and backed into the caravan, but you recognise that scent, that grip, that swooping feeling in your stomach. That laughter in your ear, followed by the greatest word in the English language, “Hiya.”

“Oh my god! What are the chances that you - oh my god!” You yell excitedly as you see him in his uniform. He twirls himself from side to side with a proud smile to show it off. “You got a job here, too?!”

He grins, “Yeah!” but it falters. “’Course, it would’ve helped if I’d’ve known my ex was dumping me for someone else who works here before I accepted but,” he shrugs, “swings and roundabouts. Speaking of! They’ve got rid of our park.”

You gasp sorrowfully. “What? No!”

“I know! They’re redoing the whole thing,” he pouts.

“I mean, to be fair, it was getting close to becoming an actual death trap,” you point out. “Last year, I don’t think the roundabout even actually spun anymore!” You both laugh as Hayley returns.

“Oh! Alright, Tom! See you’ve found my fugitive for the next six weeks.”

“Sure have! Can I nick her for a bit, though? Got some catching up to do,” he looks at her hopefully, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

She looks between the two of you before grinning, “Yeah, why not? I can make my own lunch, away with you both!”

“Have you not had lunch yet, then?” Tom frowns as you both walk down the steps of the caravan.

“Mate, I literally just got here,” you gesture to your car as Tom falls into a pile of giggles.

“Alright, mate,” he nudges you with his elbow as he mocks you. “How’s about we take full advantage of my new staff discount,” he waggles an ID card between his fingers, “and go get you your own chips for once?”

“You remembered!” You cackle. “And they’re way tastier when they’re not mine.”

All through your meal, as you catch up, there's a very large elephant in the room that Tom isn't addressing. After a post-lunch walk ends up taking you to your log, the bittersweet punch that hits your chest finally has you speak up as Tom sits on the log, sprawling his legs out in front of him: "Why didn't you ever text?" Tom presses his lips together as he takes a deep breath in and out. "I know… I know you said that Ruth didn't like you talking to me, and while that was shit, I kinda get it. But… Why didn't you…?"

"Reach out after we broke up?" Tom asks, bending his knees to rest his elbows on as he rubs his face with his palms. "I don't fucking know, is my honest answer. I thought about it, if that helps. Probably fucking doesn't," he mutters. "I just… Assumed you'd hate me for letting a girl come between us."

"Well… A little," you admit, finally sitting down next to him. "Hate you more for assuming I'd hate you, though." Tom shoves your shoulder as he laughs softly, and you chuckle quietly, too.

"Let me make it up to you?" he asks. "Dinner at my caravan later?"

You groan, "Please tell me you've learned to do more than put tinned spaghetti on a slice of uncooked bread."

"As long as you eat it like a sandwich, ain't nothing wrong with it," he beams. "But, just for you, I'll make it proper special, yeah?"

"Ooh, like a date? Do I have to dress up?" You tease, and he laughs loudly.

"I distinctly remember you wearing jeans on our first date, so you've set the bar pretty low there."

You look at him in mock offence, "Excuse you! Those were my smart jeans that had the sequin dolphins on them! I felt like a little celebrity in those," you reminisce.

"You can wear what you like, just… Maybe no bedazzled fish this time, eh?" He glances over at you side-eyeing him and interrupts you before you can start correcting him, "I know, I know, dolphins are mammals, actually." He collapses into a fit of giggles, losing the accent he's using to mock yours as he squawks at you trying to push him off the log entirely.

"Can't believe you remember that, and all," you smile fondly.

"Of course. Still got that toy one I bough-" Tom interrupts himself, but you silently encourage him. "I, uh, we had a school trip to the aquarium. An' they had a - a little gift shop there, they had these toy dolphins. I bought one to give you years ago, but I just… Never got round to it."

“Ruth stopped you?” you guess, and he pulls a face in response. You copy him, “You’ll just have to give it to me when you come visit me in Nottingham, won’t you?”

He sits bolt upright. “You what?!”

You giggle, “I got into Nottingham. For uni, I mean.”

“Shit, that’s huge! Grats!” he pins your arms to your side in a quick squeeze. "An' there's a bus that goes straight there from Derby, so there'll be no escaping me!"

Your eyebrows knit together, "You not staying here year-round?"

He shakes his head. "I was gonna, when I first applied for it, but then… Well, things have changed now, in't they?"

You giggle, "I'll finally get to see your house for real!"

Tom gasps excitedly, "Shit, yeah, and Mum'll be dead happy to see you again!" He slaps his knees and stands up, "Right, well. This ain't getting me back to work, is it? Gotta make sure I clock off nice an’ early." He offers his hand out to you. "Wanna get up too, or are you staying here?"

You take his hand and let him pull you up to standing. "Nah, I better get back to Hayley at some point. Text me whenever you want me ’round, yeah?" You ask, trying not to grin stupidly at the fact Tom doesn't let go of your hand right away.

"Will do. In a bit, yeah?" he asks with a smile, holding your hand out to him for just long enough for you to speculate whether he was about to kiss it before letting it go, instead.

As you head straight back up the path next to the log, he goes across the beach for a minute, making his way to the other side of the park where he needs to be instead. You return to caravan 159 to see Hayley sprawled across the sofa, watching the tiny TV. She jumps up excitedly when she sees you. “So, how’d it go?” You explain that you have dinner planned with him tonight, but that you’re not certain what level of date to consider it. Hayley helps you go through the clothes you’d packed, but they were all either too casual or too going-out-y, outfits you’d planned for nights out at bars and nightclubs. Not exactly dinner-with-an-old-friend attire.

Hayley takes you by the hand to her room, where she starts pulling out dresses and holding them against you. You laugh, “Hayles! These are your show outfits, I can’t wear them!”

“Why not?” she frowns. “We’re the same size, I still get to choose which ones I wear every night so I’ll have plenty of options. And Tom and that never come and watch, so he’ll be none the wiser.” She waggles her eyebrows, wiggling the dress in her hands from side to side. “Come on,” she drawls the last word, stretching it out. “You know you want to.”

You snatch it from her and scoff, “If I take this, will you stop?”

She grins wickedly. “Not until you’ve shown me what undies you’re gonna wear, too!”

You feel your face grow warmer as you shake your head, “And what does that have to do with the price of fish?!”

She cackles, “You know.”

“I know nothing, remember? I’m still yet to… Y’know,” you falter. Hayley doesn’t quite know the full extent of yours and Tom’s friendship, only knowing that you’ve both been coming to this park as long as she has. She doesn’t know that there’s ample ammo for her to tease you about tonight, and you put all your energy into calculating everything you’re about to say to make sure you don’t slip up. That’s the last thing you need.

“Is that why you’ve got these?” she asks with a giggle, already back in your bedroom and scooping up a pair of lace panties with her finger from the packing cube you’d assigned for underwear.

Your face now a furnace, you chase after her with a, “Shut it!” as you snatch them away. “They’re for if we ever go… Y’know, out anywhere. Sometimes it just gives you a little boost to wear a cute matching set, know what I mean?”

She grins, “I know, I’m just yanking your chain. Wear what you want, as long as you look good doing it.” Her voice gets quieter as she heads back into the main room of the caravan, until she calls out loudly, “So, where is he taking you, do you know?”

“He says he’s going to cook for me,” you state as you press Hayley’s dress to your front and look in the mirror. “Yeah, said he’ll text me when it’s ready.”

Hayley suddenly reappears back in your doorway looking fearful. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah! Why shouldn’t I be?” you ask with a frown.

“You ever seen Tom’s cooking?”

You shake your head. “Not since we were about 14? And all he could do was heat up tinned spaghetti and dump it onto bread he didn’t even think to toast. But he said he’d do better, and that was four years a-” Your face falls at her expression.

“Babe. He was literally eating that for dinner yesterday when we called for him to come sit round the fire,” she tells you with raised eyebrows.

“So… I should… Just go there as soon as I’m ready?” You ask, nodding slowly, and Hayley mirrors you. She shows you from the window which trailer is Tom’s, and lets you finish getting yourself ready.

After showering, getting dressed - including the set of underwear that Hayley teased you about, even though you definitely don’t plan on having anyone else see it, it’s definitely just to give you the little boost of confidence you need - and applying as much make-up as you feel comfortable putting on for tonight - you give Hayley a quick hug, though she has you pose for some photos first to “commemorate” how good you look in her dress. She’s quick to usher you out of the door afterwards, though, telling you where she’ll bury her spare key so you can get back in (“If you get back in tonight,” she adds with an exaggerated wink as you roll your eyes at her and walk out) and pointing out one more time where Tom lives.

You knock on the door tentatively, but the muffled country music you can hear from the other side tells you that Tom probably can’t hear you. You try the door and it opens easily, allowing you to see Tom dancing around the tiny expanse of his kitchen, singing under his breath as he takes a handful of spaghetti out from its packet and throws it into a pot of boiling water as though it were a part of the way he’s dancing.

Your phone still clutched in your hand, you go to position it in a way to start recording him, but he catches you. Instead of looking surprised, he simply beckons you over with one finger. Walking across to him, as he’s still singing and swaying, he holds his hand out, to which you give him yours and he twirls you around. “You look amazing,” he smiles at you breathlessly.

Trying not to get too flustered, you quickly reply, “You scrub up alright, yourself!” You gesture to him, looking down at his dress shirt and - “Oh, so when I wear jeans to have dinner with you, I get ridiculed, but -”

“Shhh-sh-sh-sh,” Tom shushes you with a smile, pressing his finger against your lips, which you laugh against. “How come you’re early then, eager beaver? Didn’t even need to tell you where I live.”

“Hayley told me. Warned me to come over and make sure I don’t get food poisoning or something,” you giggle, and Tom gasps, holding a hand to his chest.

“That cheeky cow!” He jokes before draping his arm over your shoulders and aiming you towards the stove. “Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve been cooking not just one, but two options. See, I couldn’t remember if you ate meat or not, so I’ve got some… Broccoli spaghetti dish on the go on this side, and then there’s sausage and rice in this big pot here,” he points out.

“At least none of it came out of a tin, good boy,” you smirk as you take a spoon from the utensil rack on his counter and start stirring the spaghetti around to make sure it all starts cooking. You continue stirring the different pots, asking Tom if there’s anything more to be done, but he simply carries on singing along to what you recognise playing now as Take Me Home, Country Roads, taking another utensil off the rack from where he stands behind you to sing dramatically into the handle as he side-steps back and forth around you. “Can’t believe you actually listen to this stuff,” you muse, shaking your head softly.

“What’d you mean?! It’s decent,” Tom pouts.

“Tom, my granddad listens to Jim Reeves,” you point out.

“Then your granddad’s got excellent taste, don’t he,” Tom grins before putting his hands on your hips. Your heart skips several beats as he gently pushes you out of the way. “C’mon, now, let me dish up. You go sit at the table, yeah?”

Your heart soars again when you see there’s already knives and forks laid out, as well as a candle off to the side. Tom soon follows, holding both plates out to offer to you. You pick the one you prefer and set it down in front of you. Tom puts his down on the other side of the table, fishing a lighter out from his back pocket to light the candle between you. “Shit, I forgot to pour the - d’you like wine? If not, I’ve got some Coke I can put in a wine glass to look dead fancy,” he calls from the kitchen area, where his head is buried in a cupboard.

“You’ve got wine glasses?!” You ask incredulously, leaning around to look at him. “I don’t even know you anymore!”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, throwing you a sarcastic smile before holding up the wine bottle. You signal your response and he fills up both glasses accordingly. “Bought ’em to impress a girl, dunno if it was worth it yet, though.” Everything inside you feels like lead again. Of course this wasn’t anything more than platonic. As he hands you the glass, he waggles his eyebrows, “Well? Was it?”

Relieved that you had nothing to worry about after all, you grin, “Am I supposed to be the girl you’re trying to impress? Even though I’ve watched you eat worms?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes his seat again. “It was one worm and it was because shitty Damien dared me, alright?” He defends with a smile, and you laugh. “And besides, I was six! You were no saint back then either, how many times did I eat figurative shit because a certain someone kept tying my shoelaces together?!”

“I can’t believe you never even realised when I was doing it, too,” you clutch your stomach as you sigh, coming down from the raucous laughter his memory had caused you. You offer your glass out to him, “Here, to old times, eh?”

“And new,” he smiles softly, clinking his glass against yours.

Conversation never runs dry between the two of you as you finally catch up properly over everything in the past three years. You laugh, you tease, you reminisce fondly. After dinner and a store-bought dessert that Tom still puts effort into looking fancy, the two of you retire to his sofa to watch whatever’s on TV.

You deliberately sit so that there’s a little distance between you, not wanting to be presumptuous, and so when you try to sit comfortably, tucking your feet begins you, your rest your head on the back of the seat, ending up with your head just shy of brushing against Tom’s arm. You can sense him looking at you in your peripheral, and look over at him in question. When you make eye contact, he flashes his eyes at you and jerks his head to the side, silently offering you to shuffle up next to him. You do so, moving until your head ends up resting on his shoulder. He drapes his arm around you, holding onto your arm and squeezing it gently.

After a few minutes, you tilt your head up to look at him again. The faintest hint of stubble peeks through his skin, illuminated by a movie you’ve seen so often you could recite it, but it makes Tom laugh nonetheless. Eventually, he’s the one that catches you staring, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

You push yourself up on the couch a little to get a better look at his face. His gaze never leaves you, but he’s looking a little lower than your eyes. As he looks up at your eyes again, he licks his lips. “Tell me now,” he starts quietly. “Tell me to stop, an’ I will.”

You softly shake your head. “Why would I do that?”

Grinning with a sigh of relief, he reaches up to hold the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s a long one, starting out soft but pressing harder as it carries on. You sit up on your knees to angle yourself better, holding his face in your hands so as not to break the contact with him as your lingering pecks continue, but he quickly - considering it was blindly - taps one of your legs to insinuate that he wants hold of it. You shuffle around until he can grab your ankle to pull it until you’re straddling him.

Your arms rest on his shoulders as you keep kissing him. God, you never want to stop kissing him. The hand not still holding your head snakes between you to rub at your jaw, gently massaging it open to slip his tongue between your lips. You let out a whine involuntarily and curse yourself - your ex hated noises like that - but Tom only pushes you closer to him, humming into the kiss.

Finally, the two of you break away from each other, gasping heavily for air. You catch each other's gaze and share the same ear-to-ear smile. His pupils are blown out and his already plump lips look bigger and redder than ever. You have the urge to take the lower one between your teeth, despite not knowing if he’s into that.

Before you can do anything, he’s pulling you close again, though not to kiss your lips. Holding the back of your neck deliberately, he guides you down to start kissing just below your ear. The sensation you feel from it is like no other, and you find yourself whining and whimpering even more. The sounds only encourage Tom as he finds a sweet soft spot at the side of your neck and sucks on it especially hard. You didn’t expect the low moan to roll out of your mouth, nor did you expect that to cause Tom’s hips to buck up against you.

He stops suddenly, his head whipping back to look up at you. His pupils are blown to almost the size of his irises. “I, um… I’ve never… Sorry, I… Fuck, I dunno how to say this without sounding weird…”

You smile softly at him, playing with the curls behind his ears. “It’s okay. I haven’t, either.”

His face softens. “Then everything’s as it should be, right?” He smiles up at you, his hands moving to hold your hips. Something about his touch coupled with where you are makes you want to grind against him, and so you do, holding the back of his head to pull him close enough to rest his forehead against yours. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallows again. “We should probably move this to the bed… Right? More room an’ that.”

You climb off his lap and hold out your hand. He stands and takes it, leading you to the door between you and his bed. He wrenches the door open, then pulls your arm with enough force to send you crashing against him, chest to chest, before his hands find your jaw again to bring it up to resume kissing you. You giggle against his lips, “What happened to the bed?”

Tom presses another peck onto you. “Missed kissing you already,” he grins back against yours. Neither of your hands stop moving around, exploring each others’ bodies, until you can’t bear not feeling his skin against yours a moment longer.

Moving to run your finger along his buttons, you look at him expectantly. “Can y-… Do you want…”

With his trademark smile, Tom’s gaze never leaves yours as he undoes a few buttons before grabbing the back of his collar and throwing his shirt off completely. Entranced, you stroke all over his torso before tracing invisible lines between each of his freckles. Kissing every part of you that he can reach, he eventually pipes up, “Sort of feeling underdressed here.”

You look up to grin at him, “Actually, I think you’re wearing too much.”

“Yeah, course you would,” he smirks as his hands slide up your back to the fastening of your dress. He flashes his eyes at you, a silent request, and you nod. He slowly pulls down the zip until the dress, which you were able to just slide over your head anyway, falls off of your body and pools at your ankles. Tom leans back, looking you up and down as he takes you all in. You’d feel very exposed, were it not for the look in his eye. “Fuck me,” he exclaims under his breath. “You are fucking phenomenal.”

Smiling bashfully, you pull him back towards you by the belt loops of his jeans. “Now who’s overdressed, eh?” You ask as you press yet another kiss to his lips.

“Right,” he grins mischievously, pushing you back so that you fall onto his bed, “you get down there.” Giggling, you shuffle back towards his pillows, lay back to rest on your elbows and watch him unbuckle his belt. He notices and starts humming an unintelligible song that he goofily gyrates to, pulling his belt out and waving it around. You roll around laughing as he continues putting on the most Tom-like striptease for you. Once he’s kicked his jeans off, he clambers onto the bed, crawling up until he’s hovering over you, his face not even an inch from yours. He tilts his chin up until the tip of his nose bumps past yours and trails up your bridge, before bringing it back down and rubbing it against the tip of yours again, side to side. “Never thought this day would come,” Tom admits softly.

“Me neither,” you reply back in the same tone. “Never been more glad to be wrong.”

Letting a laugh slip between his lips, Tom nods, “Me, too.” He kisses your nose before looking down your body, letting his fingertips brush against the cup of your bra. Your breath hitches at his proximity, and he looks back at you to grin, “You sure you didn’t think this was happening?”

You pout, “It’s just nice to know that I look sexy, that’s all!”

“Fuck, yes, you do,” he growls as he leans back down to kiss you, his hand gripping your covered breast. You push yourself up and he pulls back, eyebrows knitted, as you reach back awkwardly to try and unfasten your bra. With another smile, Tom reaches over and takes over, fumbling a few times before eventually getting there. Impatiently, you move your arms to throw your bra aside, not caring where it lands, and Tom’s immediately transfixed on your naked chest.

You reach up to place a finger beneath his jaw, pushing it back up closed, and giggle as soon as you move it back and his jaw drops yet again. He reaches down to grab both of them, one in each hand, and a gentle rush of euphoria sweeps through you. He kisses you again, timing the press of his lips with the squeeze of his hands.

One hand moves from massaging your breast to slowly slide down your torso. This is it, where everything comes to an end. You await with bated breath, hoping he'll just rest his hand on your tummy while he kisses you, or something. But his hands dip lower, and just as you feel him lifting the elastic of your underwear, your hand flies to his wrist, gripping tightly. He stops kissing to look you in the eye, confused concern on his face. "Y'alright? Wanna stop?"

You swallow hard and shake your head. "It's… It's okay, you don't have to - I can- want to take care of you."

The concern in his expression grows. "This is a two-way street, love. If you don't want it, I'm not having it, either."

You pout, "No! It's not that I don't want it! I- I do, so bad, I just…" You sigh. "So, the reason I've never gotten anywhere yet in this… Department, is because I… I tend to… Produce… A lot. And I get that that's, y'know, gross, so… You don't have t-”

Tom interrupts you by taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly. “You.” He says before kissing you again. “Are far from that.” Another kiss, and then his brow furrows. “You mean to tell me that dickhead -?” His eyebrows then raise in realisation. “When he asked if you were… ‘Disgusting’ with me, last year…” You nod slowly, and Tom turns his nose up. “Fucking wanker. Thank fuck you’re mine now, eh?” For years, you’d been used to your heart soaring just for it to drop. You feel that sensation reverse, the heavy weight of your ex’s insults flying off of you at Tom’s words, smiling back at him as his adoring eyes look down at you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

You slide your hands onto his shoulders with an, “Always was, really."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, taking one of your hands into both of his, holding the palm out to kiss it.

You bite your lip into a smile. "I, uh… Whenever me and my ex did used to… Try, the only thing that could get me going was…" You falter, looking up at him as he keeps kissing down your arm.

"Was what, angel? Didn't catch that last bit," he grins against your skin.

You giggle, "It was you, okay? Prick."

Tom buries his face in your neck, his mouth working the tender skin just below the mark he’d already left until you let out another moan, to which his hips roll down to grind against yours. With just two thin layers between you, you feel his thick member spread your lower lips beneath the lace of your underwear, and you instinctively rub yourself up and down his length, your legs wrapping around him. “Here, guess what,” he mutters into your ear.

“What?”

“I could only ever get off thinking of you, an’ all.” You feel his teeth against the shell of your ear as you can hear the grin in his voice. “So, does that mean…” He snakes a hand back to the elastic of your panties, working his fingertips beneath them, “That all this is for m- ohhh, fuuuuck,” he moans breathily as his fingers slide down into your wetness. “You get this turned on, just by me?” He asks, and you nod quietly, still not sure how to respond. He looks at you adoringly. “I must be pretty fucking fit, then, mustn’t I?” he asks, another, more arrogant, smile just pulling at the corners of his lips, and you laugh.

“You’re such a dickhead,” you scold, but honestly, it’s a massive comfort to you knowing that even in this most tender of moments, the dynamic of you and Tom isn’t lost. This feels good, natural, right. No need to fear anything. No need to worry. It’s just you and him. Like Tom said, as it should be.

“Oh, I am?” he asks teasingly, his expression growing more mischievous. “Even when I’m doing this?” He runs his middle finger down between your folds until it slides easily inside of you, guided by your wetness. You drop your head back into his pillows, moaning louder than ever and bucking your hips against his finger. “Fuuuck,” Tom groans, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Not too wet?” you ask quietly, and he pulls his finger back, sucks it clean while looking you dead in the eye, and then makes quick work of pulling your underwear off of you.

Sinking down to lay between your legs, he sighs dreamily. “Absolutely not.” He laps all around at the mess you’ve already made noisily, cleaning you up before tracing his tongue carefully along your slit. Just as it brushes over your clit, your breath hitches and the whine underneath it lingers. Tom looks up at you, his big brown eyes warm and safe watching your reaction as he first sucks on the sensitive area, and then laps the tip of his tongue back and forth against it. Your hand flies into his hair as you moan and you feel his lips turn up against you.

Tom blindly finds your free hand to reach up and connect his fingers with yours, a tender bond as his other hand spreads you apart. Angling his head slightly, you watch his tongue fly quickly against you, his own moans echoing yours as you push his face against you, desperately craving more, you don’t quite know in what sense, you just want pleasure, you just want him. You feel yourself gushing around him and you start to feel a little tense. Feeling the change in you, the hand holding yours squeezes, a reassurance.

He once again happily cleans up after you, muttering unintelligible sweet nothings inside of you as he does. You lock eyes with him again as he resumes sucking on your clit, moving to slide two fingers inside of you. While you certainly feel more full, it doesn’t hurt as much as you were warned it would, thanks to your… Overproduction. Instead, you feel a sensation you’ve never felt before. Stronger than you’ve ever even felt whenever you’ve pleasured yourself. You keen against his fingers, moaning and whining as he gently encourages you, “Fuck, yes, angel, that’s it… Oh, fuck, you’re squeezing around my fingers… Gonna cum all over my fingers, yeah? Do it, baby, cum for me.”

As though working on his actual command, you feel a rush through every nerve in your body, one that pushes its way from your core, spreading along your spine until it arches, across your arms until you’re grabbing the sheets, through your legs until they bend in the air above you. Not wanting to be loud enough to be heard throughout the whole park, you bite through your lip as you let out a long, high-pitched moan throughout your release.

Tom doesn’t surface for some time as he drinks you in, finally re-emerging with shining lips and wild eyes. Wiping the excess of you off with the back of his hand, he crawls back up your body to kiss you, practically pushing your entire self into the mattress. “God, you are fucking incredible,” he grins against your skin as he moves to kiss your neck, this time just under your other ear.

“I can’t even pretend the same’s not true of you, a certain something’s betrayed me, there,” you joke, and he chuckles under his breath, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Be honest with me, though. It wasn’t… Too much, was it?”

“Not in the slightest, babe,” he whispers into your ear as he presses gentle pecks along your jaw and to your lips. “I’d happily stay down there and eat you out all night long, but…” He pushes himself up to kneeling, palming himself through his boxers as he looks at you hungrily. “I am fucking aching to be inside of you,” he admits. You go to reach out as well, but he bats you away with a soft smirk, “I’m already certain I’m not gonna last long at all, sweets, give me some credit.”

“I don’t care how long you last,” you smile wistfully, watching him climb off you and slide his boxers off, hypnotised by the way his cock springs out as the elastic waistband drags past it.

He glances over as he takes a condom out of his drawer and smirks, “Take a photo, won’t ya, it’ll last longer.” You’d react, but you’re still enamoured watching him roll it down his length.

He gets back onto the bed, lining himself up at you with a look in his eye like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. You feel his tip pressing into you and gasp, your lips forming a near-perfect O before spreading out into a smile. Tom mirrors you as his hands find yours, holding them both just either side of you as he pushes in. You certainly feel the pressure of him sliding in, but it’s far from painful. His eyes study your expression with concern, obviously anticipating you to be in pain as well, but you give him a reassuring smile and a nod as he starts pulling out and pushing himself back inside of you again.

His fingers and his tongue were enough to drive you wild earlier, but nothing on this earth has ever made you feel as good as him thrusting into you. He starts off slow and gentle, but your body yearns for more. As you start to buck your hips up against him, he once again rubs the tip of his nose against yours, stroking his thumbs along the sides of your hands as he shushes you. “Patience, sweets,” he soothes. “We’ve got all summer to fuck like rabbits… But tonight, I just wanna make love to you.”

Too euphoric to filter anything you say now, you breathe out an, “I do.” Tom looks at you, his expression a mixture of deliberation and elation. You beam widely, “You may be a dickhead, but I fucking love you.”

His smile practically touches his ears as he cradles your face with an, “I love you, an’ all, you big twat,” before leaning down to kiss you passionately, moaning against your lips with every thrust. As you lose yourself in the embrace, you feel Tom slip out from you. Again, you start to worry yourself, but Tom’s assuring stroke against your cheek as he simply guides himself back in and returns to kissing you with just as much fervour puts those fears at ease.

You feel the crescendo of another orgasm looming just as Tom’s expression starts to change, as well. Wanting nothing more than to climax alongside him, you try and hurry yourself along a little by rubbing your clit in circles. His pace slows as he watches you, entranced, though your body craves him more than ever. “Fuck, please, Tom, don’t stop,” you whine, and he groans as he resumes rocking his hips into you again.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” He asks you breathlessly. “Keep going, baby, keep showing me how you touch yourself, fuck, that’s it.”

“’M gett- fuck, I’m already close again, Tom,” you moan, and his motions lose any sense of rhythm, just trying desperately to release.

“Me too, sweets, I’m - fuck, I love you,” he groans as he snaps his hips harshly into you. That final press hits just the right spot inside of you and you feel yourself come apart for him yet again, squeezing around him as you ride your second wave of the night.

As you both come down, he presses soft kisses all over your face, down your neck, as far down your chest as he can reach while staying inside you until he finally pulls out. “I’d help you out again, but, uh, I think you’re probably a bit sensitive down there by now,” he grins, leaning up to kiss your forehead. “Let me go get rid of this thing and get you a towel, alright?” Unable to move, talk, or even really think, you simply nod at him, which earns you another breathy chuckle and another peck to the top of your head as he walks off.

He returns within a minute, and insists on gently patting you dry, the tenderness in his eyes matching his touch. You eventually muster enough energy to reach over to him and card your fingers through his curls. He leans into your touch, smiling over at you as you mutter, “I love you, too.”

“D’you know, I’ve never been happier to hear anything else.”

Once you’re all cleaned up, he lays next to you, and you lift yourself up to let his arm rest beneath your head. Curling up against his chest, you let him envelope you, enjoying the comfortable silence until he pipes up, “That was fucking amazing. Like, I knew it’d be good, but… You hear all these things about your first time. And I was always scared with Ruth that I’d mess up somehow, or I’d kill the mood, you know how daft I am. But it was all just… Part of it, weren’t it?”

You press your head into the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was always scared of the same, and then, well…” You gesture down between your legs.

“’Ey,” Tom scolds, reaching down to grab your wrist. “No more of that. It’s just the way your body works, yeah? And your body is fucking perfect. I’ll never stop proving that to you.”

And he really doesn’t. When you had first disclosed to Hayley that you were a virgin, the previous year when you’d come with your ex, she’d told you, “Sex is like Pringles; once you pop, you just can’t stop. At least, I think that’s the Pringles thing.” You’d always laughed that off, but now that it’s happened to you, it really is true. You wake up to it, you’re at it as soon as he’s finished his shift, just before you go to sleep. And then there’s the rest. Passing him while he’s working to sneakily grab, pinch or slap his ass cheek as you walk past, only for him to get his own back by “innocently cuddling” you from behind while also pressing himself against your own ass just once before placing a single kiss to your neck and running off. Your personal favourite is knowing all you have to do is send him a racy photo of you proving that you’re wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, and knowing that if you look out of the window you’ll see him running across the caravan park at top speed, leaping over any obstacle to then practically fly into his caravan and tackle you onto his bed.

You still try and maintain staying with Hayley for as long as possible, but with her being the evening entertainment, and her telling you that she was banning “all hanky-panky” at her place, that didn’t leave you with much else to do to spend your evenings than to hang out in Tom’s caravan with him, anyway. Not that she minded. Even when she would insist on a you-and-her day, it would mostly be to gossip about Tom, anyway.

There’s a few days when you start to wonder if perhaps Tom only wants you around for sex and nothing else. That all gets easily explained away when eventually Mother Nature clocks in for her monthly shift. You warn Tom that nothing can happen for the next week, and that you’ll probably just stay at Hayley’s again to avoid any stained sheets or exposure to sanitary products, but Tom remains as joined to your hip as ever. He buys heating pads, pain relief, snacks and drinks, extra products, anything you may need, happily letting you curl up in his lap in an attempt to soothe the cramps. A few days in, you even open up to him that you’d had doubts that he was only interested in getting into your pants, which results in many days’ worth of constant reassurance whenever you’re with him and texts of affirmations when you’re not. He certainly doesn’t turn down the gratuitous blowjob you give him as a result of being so patient on a night you know Hayley’s working especially late, though.

The last weekend of the last week of you being in Cornwall hits you like a brick wall. You’re constantly getting emotional, which only spikes every time you so much as look at Hayley or Tom. Tom reminds you that you’ll only see him in a couple of weeks anyway, once you move up north to university. And Hayley makes you both promise you’ll come back to Cornwall at every chance you can.

Tom meets you and your family in the car park of your uni halls, already waiting to help you move in. Both of your families have dinner together while yours are still in town, and as they part, they joke that the next time they’ll see each other is at your wedding. With your ex, even trying to plan to go to the same university together seemed daunting and unnatural. But you laugh along with Tom, safe in the knowledge that your collective parents’ joke is 100% truthful.

Age 19

After a year of university, you decide to move out of your dorm and into a place with Tom. Your first housemate, you love to remind him, though that spikes up a slightly more awkward conversation while cuddled up on the sofa. “So, we were first for a lot of things.”

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of our thing,” Tom teases.

“Piss off,” you scoff, elbowing him in the side as he laughs. “I mean, we were for pretty much everything, but not where it counts. You weren’t my first boyfriend, and I wasn’t your first, either. So, like, in terms of the way our relationship goes on through the years… I dunno, just sucks a bit that that’s like one of the only things we don’t have now.”

Tom deliberates for a second. “The way I like to see it,” he starts. “I consider you my first for a lot of sort of extraneous things, little things that add up to make us, us. But in terms of our relationship, it’s easy enough to explain.” You look over at him in confusion, and he takes the opportunity to take your chin between his finger and thumb to grin at you, pulling you close to mutter three words to you before pressing a long and sweet kiss to your lips: “You’re my only.”

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