#I had to turn this into a mini series when so many loved the previous one

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

previous |

FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn���t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller angst #infidelity joel miller #joel miller au #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel x you #joel x oc #angst fic #cheater joel miller

[justsomeectoplasm]

Steamed sticky crab dumplings

“It’s been a long time since I’ve visited the treehouse in forest. The shops seemed to have multiplied since. I suppose that’s because word got around of the food they serve here. I had a lot more options to pick some food. One in particular was sticky crab dumplings.

After the crab meat was cured and properly seasoned, it’s wrapped up with some vegetables that only grow in forest, before being placed in a small pot and then steamed for a bit. The reason why this meal is sticky is because the vegetable they used for these dumplings often leak out a sticky substance when steamed, giving the dumplings a sweet and savory flavor. The meat is soft and tear through easy unlike how most crab meat is prepared, and the meal goes well with herbal tea. Paired with the soft rain, it’s quite a cosy meal. Do be careful when eating though, lest you want to end up with sticky stains on your cape or clothes.

You should also be careful of running moths in the treehouse. A newborn ran into my table, fell down, picked herself up and continue to run after the frog she was chasing. I had to find out if she was fine and take her to the local healer.”

- Donovan’s entries

#sky children of the light #sky: children of the light #sky cotl #sky cotl food #art #my art #I had to turn this into a mini series when so many loved the previous one

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.9 (fin.)

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: angst(ish), fluff, smut (mdni), masturbation (m.), confrontation, not many warning this chapter since it's the finale, anything i missed lmk! ch. 9 synopsis: nationals are underway and everything hangs in the balance for you as you watch sunghoon and minhee compete. just before the competition, sunghoon gets an unexpected visitor and makes some life decisions. wc: 15.1k previous | masterlist a/n: hi! i can't believe this is the end. i genuinely will never be able to thank each one of you for the love you have given this series. honestly, i didn't expect this series to do that well considering it's a hefty amount, but all of you have been so lovely and supportive! i hope this ending does melting point justice and ties everything up for you all. i will miss mp fridays and ynhoon more than anything but it just means i can work on something new <3 ilysm and thank you again!

Sunghoon’s alarm blares from the hotel’s bedside table, startling him from his peaceful sleep. He tries to twist and turn off the annoying noise but your grip on him stops his movements, your head burying itself into his chest as you stir, your legs tightening around his as a sleep-induced protest to have him stay beside you.

Smiling down at you, he gently pushes you from his body, careful not to fully wake you while he turns off the alarm from his phone. Luckily, you’re so exhausted from the night before’s activities that you simply roll to your side and sink further into the fluffy pillow.

The time on Sunghoon’s phone reads 6am, a horribly early start for such a long day. He digs the soles of his palms into his eyes trying to rid any sleepiness from them in an attempt to wake up. Knowing he has to get prepared for today, he begrudgingly flicks the covers off of his body and sits up at the edge of the bed.

He turns to face you, happily pouting at your sleeping figure. Right now, Sunghoon is the most content he has ever been before a competition and it was all thanks to you. Last night, relaxing with you and Minhee watching TV, fucking you into the morning, and cradling you in his arms as you softly snored on his chest, it was all so perfect. Finally, he felt like his life had some form of normality to it; he felt the same way last night as he used to when his dad took him for food at that cafe you’ve grown to love so much. He’s finally found happiness like he only dreamed of.

Placing the covers back over you as he stands up, Sunghoon quickly makes his way to the bathroom, careful not to trip over the mess on the floor; there is something about hotel rooms that just makes him a slob, the entire place covered in his stuff which could easily be put away.

The bathroom light flickers as he presses the switch, the white light a little too bright for his liking but he has to make do. Inspecting his face in the mirror, he sees a light in his eyes that flashes back to him, a testament to his happiness. If this was a typical competition morning, he would be stressed, the weight of perfection placed on his shoulders by his mother the only thing he truly felt. The constant need to impress and be the best at what he does drained him more than he realised, until you came along he would grit and bear it, trying to keep everyone happy.

But you, you made him realise that you will always be proud of him as long as he does his best and is happy with himself; a desperate structure he needed in his life.

Grinning from ear to ear, he turns on the shower and waits for the water to heat up, using his hand as an indicator. He strips off his boxers and steps in carefully - the last time he brazenly walked into a hotel shower he nearly fell ass first, legs flailing to keep him up right and that is the last thing he needs to happen. 

The water is perfect as it cascades over his body, each droplet trickles down his form like a mini blanket, hugging him with warmth. He doesn’t mind winter much, being born in December and all, but he does dislike the coldness. Irony isn’t lost on him, he understands that his whole life has been around a freezing cold ice rink, yet recently, he has been finding it more and more difficult to withstand the cold air.

Probably because he was so accustomed to your warmth now.

For some reason today, more than most days, he can’t shake his mind off you; probably because there is so much at stake today and you’re the only thing that calms down his anxious mind.

After Minhee explained about your mother and her gambling, he knew from then that he had to shield you from it all. He wants to respect your wishes and perform to his best ability, but the nagging part of his heart that lives to protect you is telling him to disobey your request, to just lose the competition on purpose anyway.

Minhee is good, spectacular even, Sunghoon can’t and won’t deny that, but is he really first-place ready? This all must be gnawing at your brother, swaying his head and making him lose focus, Sunghoon knows it would do that to him. And who is to say another figure skater won’t be better than both of them? Was the bet just for Minhee to win over Sunghoon in points or the whole competition? He wishes he got some clarity on that as he ponders all the possible outcomes of today.

All he has to do is lose to Minhee, that’s the safest option. 

Squirting some of the hotel soap onto his hands, he glides them all over his torso and chest, rubbing in the suds to wash him clean. Selfishly, he wants to wake you up and have you wash him as you have done so many times before; your nimble hands trailing over his v-line and his toned stomach, always resulting in your back against the tiles while he fucks into you, serving to create a vicious cycle of cleaning one another of your sex only to dirty yourselves up again. The recollection of your soaped-up tits only adds to his yearning for you, but you are so exhausted from yesterday that he needs to leave you be, settling for his memories and hand.

His hand falls to his semi-hard cock as he turns his body to face the showerhead, stroking his shaft a few times, using the pressure from the water to add another layer of pleasure. 

Tipping his head back, he opens his mouth as he squeezes his length at the base before pumping a little more determinedly. He knows he doesn’t have lots of time but he can’t help himself, every thought of you bouncing on his cock and the primal moans that escape your mouth every time he hits that sweet spot inside you. 

Biting his lip, he jerks himself off faster, trying to keep quiet but the feeling is too good, he can’t help but speak to himself as he imagines you in here with him, “Shit, Y/N, so fucking good,” he whispers, the base in his voice being lost behind the hum of the shower.

He angles his cock perfectly so some of the water stream hits directly onto his slit, giving him the same sensation as when the tip of your tongue swirls around his head, dipping into him as you stare into his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Sunghoon breathes out, placing his spare hand on the wall to steady himself as he thrusts harder into his hand, searching for a quick release. 

Since you came into his life he has started to question how he ever got off without at least the thought of you. The way you touch him, the way you make him feel, it’s like nothing he has ever known before. He hasn’tt tell you that when you rode him in his car for the first time that he genuinely wondered if he had even had sex before you, the way your walls gripped at his cock suddenly made him forget every person he had ever been with.

All he remembers is you.

When he nearly lost you because of your mum, he didn’t know what to do. Of course, he was mad about the skate and that you lied, but without you there with him, even for a few days, it was enough for him to lose any sense of being; it was as if all his limbs had been torn away from his body. Since the day you came home to him, he vowed never to let you go, and he won’t.

Quickening the pace, Sunghoon is close to the edge, ready to spill his seed down the shower drain. His wet chest heaves up and down as his balls shiver with the ache of release, “Y/N, just like that, baby. So fucking good,” he moans, hoping his voice doesn’t carry into the hotel bedroom. 

His wrist works harder as he inhales through gritted teeth, his brain running through every orgasm you’ve ever had so that he can feel like he’s cumming with you.

“Shit, shit,” he groans, the first spurts of his cum shooting against the wall, some already being rinsed down the drain. He chants your name a few times, muttering how much he loves you under his breath as he slowly comes down from his climax.

If only it was you he was cumming inside, painting your walls white. 

Shaking his head, he rids himself of any more dirty thoughts of you, scared he might have to spend another 10 minutes under the water. Turning the faucet, he changes the water to a cooler temperature while he tries to calm the thumping in his chest and the throbbing in his cock. 

Once he is done with the competition, he’s going to take you over and over on the bed, cumming as many times as possible, whether inside you, on you, or wherever his desire leads.

Sunghoon turns the shower off, cleans the remnants of his mess, and steps out, wrapping a towel around his slim waist, the imprint of his now softening cock still pressed against it. You would drool if you saw him like this, you always had a thing for your boyfriend when he came straight out of a shower. There is something about the way his body glistens and how his hair sticks to his face that just turns you on. Perhaps it’s because it’s akin to how he looks after hours of fucking you silly.

After completing his skincare routine and brushing his teeth, he saunters back into the room where you are still sound asleep. He breathes a sigh of relief that he didn’t wake you despite his constant mewling of your name. 

Dropping the towel next to his suitcase, he rummages for his usual training gear before slipping into it with ease, each movement he makes is calculated, being careful not to reach a high decibel and wake you. He gathers his competition essentials such as costume, skates, and makeup, slowly zipping his bag once he has double and triple-checked it.

He steals a glance at you before tip-toeing over to your side of the bed. His hand reaches to pet your hair gently, framing it around your face to rid it from your eyes. With a soft kiss on your forehead, he smiles fondly, “I love you, baby.” His words fall on sleeping ears but he says them anyway, hoping they somehow wiggle their way into the peaceful dream you’re having.

Sunghoon heads out of the hotel room, picking up his key from the door and shutting it softly behind him. Just as the door clicks, he hears the same noise from up the hallway. He turns his head to see Minhee coming from your room, hair wet and a singular star pimple patch on his chin; the same brand you buy for yourself. 

Now that he’s looking at your brother, he really studies how similar you both are; same nose, same posture, and even your walk is the same. 

Minhee approaches Sunghoon with a timid wave and adjusts the gym bag securely onto his shoulder, “Hey, I’m guessing she’s in there?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon nods, still whispering out of habit from this morning, “We…you were snoring so loud last night, Y/N couldn’t sleep,” he offers as an excuse as to why Minhee woke up alone this morning. 

It’s a pathetic excuse but Sunghoon couldn’t in his right mind tell him that they left to go back to his room and fuck because Sunghoon was way too horny to keep it in his pants. Some boundaries just cannot be crossed, plus, does any brother want to know that only a few doors down their sister was getting pounded into oblivion? The answer to that is always no.

Minhee holds his hand up in front of Sunghoon, “Mate, shut up, we’re both 20 and I’m not an idiot,” his face turns to disgust despite trying to come across as mature. A shiver runs down his spine at the conversation, not wanting to progress it any further.

Fortunately for him, neither does Sunghoon, “Are you ready for today?” he asks as they walk together to the lift. 

Taking a deep breath in contemplation, Minhee finally nods, “Yeah, I think so,” he pauses, pushing the elevator button. He is nervous, this grand plan of his only working if he does his absolute best with no mistakes; all he has to do is perform with the same tenacity as the run-through. He turns to his competitor and braces a smile, “Hey, thanks for doing this, Sunghoon. I know after everything that’s happened between us I shouldn’t be asking you to do me a favour like this,” he says sheepishly.

It was a lot to ask of his then-rival, to be so bold and ask Sunghoon to throw a first place just to save Minhee’s ass after he nearly destroyed his career, no one in their right mind should have agreed. But Sunghoon, despite everything, was as understanding as ever. 

Your brother wasn’t accustomed to Sunghoon’s caring nature, Minhee’s impression of him up until this point was his enemy and what the media perceived him as, not the Sunghoon you knew, so when Sunghoon agreed, albeit a tad apprehensive, he was taken aback.

“I’ll do anything for her,” Sunghoon states clearly, his voice firm with determination, “And you, man. I can’t imagine what your mum has put you through up until now,” he admits. It was true that he was willing to do literally anything for you, but it was also true that he wanted to do this for Minhee as well. The more Sunghoon thought about it, it wasn’t Minhee’s fault for all this drama, it was all your mum’s fault. He couldn’t keep a grudge against someone who was only trying to protect their sister; if it was him, he would have done the same.

Minhee flashes a smile and light-heartedly punches Sunghoon’s shoulder, “Getting all gushy over me now, huh, Park?” he chuckles as the boy in front of him rolls his eyes in fake annoyance. Turning slightly serious, Minhee continues, “Y/N is my first priority in this world and to be honest, I didn’t care about winning until all this mess,” he confesses, a hint of anger pointed towards your mother in his voice.

“She’s mine too, Minhee. Just do your best out there and we’ll figure out the rest. I got you, man,” he smiles once again, hoping his sincerity comes through in his words. The lift bell dings as it arrives at their floor, and both skaters descend down to the lobby, on their way to the practice rink. 

As they make their way across the street to the ice rink, the reporters are back on their case, shouting useless questions with zero substance. Sunghoon places an arm over Minhee’s shoulder, his lips against his ear, “Wanna hold hands? Really give them something to talk about?” he laughs, pulling him in tighter to his side. 

The flashes go rapid at the gesture, “I don’t think we need to, Sunghoon. I think they might have already married us off,” Minhee says as his eyes focus on crossing the road, being the eyes for both of them as Sunghoon plays up to the camera.

“C’mon then, baby, we don’t want to be late for our warm-up.” Both of them laugh loudly, as they walk into the arena, ready to finally take to the ice.

______

The practice rink buzzes with anticipation as aspiring champions gather, each determined to claim National Gold. The distinct scent of ice and rubber immediately greets Minhee and Sunghoon as they step inside, a familiar aroma that stirs memories of countless hours spent honing their skills on the ice.

All eyes are on them, curiously following their every move. Unaffected by the attention, Minhee and Sunghoon enter together while exhibiting camaraderie and confidence. They chuckle lightheartedly at the hubbub outside, their laid-back demeanour in sharp contrast to the intensity of the upcoming competition. 

Wonyoung waves at both of them as she skates around the rink, happy that her Belmore buddies are finally there to join her. 

With Minhee spending a lot of time at the rink, he and Wonyoung have secretly become vast friends, even going as far as to help one another out when they cross paths. Your brother didn’t have many friends on the ice, the nature of the competition is a lonely one, so it was refreshing to get close to a fellow figure skater. And one as pretty as Wonyoung was simply a bonus.

As Minhee waves back eagerly, Sunghoon raises his eyebrow sceptically, “You’re cheating on me already? Did our 5-second wedding outside mean nothing to you?” he jibs at him, nudging his ‘lover’ with his shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” Minhee asks, never taking his eyes off Wonyoung.

“You’ve got a thing for Wonnie,” he says as a statement rather than a query, already certain of Minhee’s feelings towards the female skater.

Minhee snaps his face to meet Sunghoon’s gaze, “She lets you call her that?” his face shines a brighter shade of red as he realises what he just said, “I mean no. We’re friends, nothing more.” Despite Minhee’s protests, Sunghoon doesn’t buy it, only wishing to poke fun at him further.

“Hey, no judgment here, she’s pretty,” he places a hand on his new friend’s shoulder, “Y’know, she’s single, right? She broke up with that Ricky kid a few months ago,” he informs him.

Minhee nods sadly, “Yeah, she said in passing that she wasn’t getting involved with another figure skater.” 

Wonyoung and Ricky lasted a whole 4 months before calling it quits, not exactly heartbreak material, but enough for her to swear off any man that adorns a skate, at least for the time being.

Noticing Minhee’s slumped body language, Sunghoon tries his best to give him some encouragement, “True, but you have one thing that he doesn’t,” he says, dancing his bushy eyebrows up and down.

Minhee tilts his head, “What?”

“You’re older and you’re about to be a Nationals Champion. I’d say that’s pretty hot, hmm? I mean look at me,” he gestures to himself smugly, “That’s how I got your sister.”

“Mate, don’t compare Wonyoung to my sister, you’re making this weird,” he cringes at the thought.

As they both watch Wonyoung practice her toe loops, Minhee spots someone at the corner of his eye, dragging his attention away from his not-so-secret-and-completley-obvious-crush, to the woman walking towards them.

Minhee elbows Sunghoon to grab his attention, eyes pointed towards Mrs. Park as she approaches them both, face void of any emotion.

Sunghoon’s whole body freezes, the last person he expected to see today was his mother; she hasn’t bothered to contact him since their big argument. 

The thing is, Sunghoon had debated whether to reach out and try and fix the relationship they had, knowing that his dad would be so mad if he didn’t at least attempt to mend things with her. But it also wasn’t solely his responsibility, she could have texted him or showed up to one of his scheduled practices, he knows she still gets the notifications in her calendar.

Despite not knowing what transpired between the Parks, Minhee knows he needs to make himself scarce, “I’ll see you out there, yeah?” he faces Sunghoon whose sole attention is on his mum as she stands in front of him.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the ice in a minute. Grab me a rack?” still, Sunghoon’s eyes never leave his mother even as he speaks to Minhee. 

The other boy pats his back as he goes to the changing rooms, leaving the pair to have what can only be described as a staring contest.

“Why are you here?” Sunghoon asks, tone laced with agitation and defiance. He couldn’t be civil to her, not when she insulted and belittled you so easily. Although her suspicions of foul play were correct, she blamed you without knowing anything or gathering any evidence against you. He can’t stand for it, not then and not now. 

And then there were her careless words about his deceased father, words that still reverberated in Sunghoon's mind. The idea that his own father would be ashamed of him was a wound that cut deeper than any other, a wound he was still grappling to heal. 

“I came to wish you luck,” she states, voice as monotonous as ever.

Her son crosses his arms, body language standoffish as he goes to speak, “I don’t need your luck. I don’t need your guidance or anything. I fired you, or was that not clear?” he hisses.

“You can’t fire me from being your mother. I still care about you,” she retorts. There is only a hint of emotion in her voice, otherwise, Sunhgoon is looking at his typical stoic mother. If he is to believe anything she says right now, she would need to show some form of depth.

Sunghoon sucks his teeth, “I have a new family now, I really don’t need you,” he states calmly despite the bubbling anger that is rising from his chest. He saw you, and now Minhee, as his found family, people he can rely on and trust without question which is more than he can say about the woman standing a mere 50cm away from him. 

Since she has been out of his life, he has felt so free of most negative emotions. The mini panic attack he had the day he kicked her out of the house was enough for him to step back and re-evaluate their relationship. No one in the world should make anyone feel as little as she made him feel that day, so he vowed never to let anyone do that to him again.

“I can’t make you forgive me for how I’ve acted over the years, I don’t expect you to, but I would like to make peace,” she confesses.

Confused, Sunghoon leans back, his arms loosening from their knot slightly, “You had weeks to do that, why pick today of all days?”

Sunghoon’s mother shifts uncomfortably, a sense of awkwardness lingering in the air as she chooses an arguably inappropriate moment to broach the sensitive topic, "Sunghoon, I only want what is best for you," she begins tentatively, her voice tinged with a hint of regret, "And I know it may not seem like it, but I do care about you. Your father was the one with a paternal instinct; what I lacked in love, he made up for."

Her words hang heavy in the air, prompting Sunghoon to pause and reflect. It's a rare occurrence for his mother to admit fault or express any form of emotional vulnerability, leaving him at a loss for how to respond, this was all new to him, a road he didn’t know how to navigate.

“When your father died, I was left to shoulder the weight of showing you love when I couldn’t find it in myself to love you the way you deserved. It sounds cold and I can only apologise for feeling this way, but I think explaining this to you will make you hate me less, maybe even forgive me.”

"So that's it then?" he burst out, his voice edged with bitterness, "You're telling me you never loved me? That showing me any form of love was a burden? And you expect me to hate you less? You’ve got some nerve.”  It’s amazing to Sunghoon how she can stand there and say this to her own son, asking for him to forgive her. His anger simmered, a storm raging within him as he struggled to comprehend his mother's words.

“It’s not that I don’t love you it’s just-”

“You are my mother, you’re supposed to love your child unconditionally, no excuses,” Sunghoon's voice pierced the thick air, full of despair and rage. Every fibre of his being shouted for justice, for the love he had sought but never got.

However, as he locked eyes with his mother, a harsh realisation came over him like a tsunami smashing on the coast. He realised with terrible clarity that demanding empathy from someone who lacked the ability to care was a lost cause.

In this moment, a profound shift occurred within Sunghoon. It was a silent acknowledgement, a decision made in the depths of his soul. He refused to play the endless game of seeking validation from someone incapable of offering it. He refused to subject himself to further anguish in a cycle destined for disappointment.

"I'm done," he declared softly, his words carrying the weight of finality, “I have never been happier with you out of my life. I have people who love me, I don’t need you anymore, these past few weeks have shown me that.”

His mother looks aghast at her son’s statement, feeling her own sense of betrayal right now. She had come here looking for reconciliation but instead, she only got kicked to the curb once again. The damage of the past had already been done. 

“Sunghoon, please don’t shut me out. I’m trying to learn to be the mother you deserve,” she pleads with him, mustering up any way to make him forgive her.

He watches as her face washes over with something he had never seen before, sorrow perhaps. It twinges his heart to see anyone upset, but she can’t scribble out the past with one sign of regret. If she had approached this conversation differently, he may have seen eye to eye with her but saying she found it hard to love him wasn’t the best way to broach the subject of redemption.

It’s not in Sunghoon’s nature not to be a little understanding, he does know that some people lack the emotional intelligence to form loving relationships. But that isn’t the type of person he needs in his life right now, not in his formative years. He needs more people like you, people who love him and make it look easy, not burdensome.

Stepping closer to her, he gives her one more look over, “When I have kids, I will give them all the love you should have given me,” he spits at her, yet his heart is heavy with the realisation that he has lost both his parents.

“Wait!” she shouts, holding onto his arm.

Sunghoon's muscles tensed as his mother's grip tightened on his arm, her desperation palpable. He hesitated, torn between the desire to break free from her grasp and the lingering flicker of compassion within him.

"What?" he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and exhaustion, "What more could you possibly have to say?"

His mother's gaze wavered, a mix of remorse and longing clouding her features. "I know I've failed you, Sunghoon," she whispered, her voice finally trembling with emotion, "But please, give me a chance to make things right. I may not have been the mother you needed, but I want to try. I want to be there for you, to support you in any way I can. I’m working on myself, please believe me."

As Sunghoon grappled with the weight of his mother's plea, a tumultuous storm raged within him. Each word she uttered clawed at his resolve, tugging at the fragile threads of forgiveness he dared to entertain.

He met her gaze, searching for any hint of sincerity amidst the tangled web of emotions. And as he looked into her eyes, he saw a vulnerability he had never witnessed before - a vulnerability that mirrored his own.

With a heavy sigh, Sunghoon gently removed his mother's hand from his arm. "I need time," he said softly, his voice laced with uncertainty. He didn’t know if this was the right choice, to at least not burn the bridge to his mother completely, but as he looked at her now, he felt his dad in his ear, begging him to at least consider mending the relationship.

Was there a chance for redemption, for reconciliation, buried beneath the layers of hurt and resentment? Or was this merely another chapter in their tumultuous relationship, destined to end in further heartache and disappointment? Sunghoon isn’t sure, but he’ll try.

With a heavy heart, Sunghoon stamps down his decision - one born from a fragile balance of trepidation and tentative optimism, "I need to think about this, all of it. I have people to consider, including myself, before I can even entertain the idea of letting you back into my life." he confessed, his voice trembling.

Sunghoon's mother nodded, her eyes shimmering with gratitude and a glimmer of hope. "I understand," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting. Good luck today."

His mother gives him one final nod before retreating, leaving Sunghoon with his decision. He sits with the echoes of his mother's plea - a silent promise to confront the demons of their past and forge a new path forward, one step at a time. And though the journey would be fraught with obstacles, he clung to the belief that amidst the pain and turmoil, there lay the possibility of redemption - a chance to rewrite the story of their fractured relationship and embrace forgiveness. 

It was either the most foolish thing he had ever done or the start of his healing journey. 

Making his way to the locker room, he sees Minhee lacing up his skates, weaving the strings around each of the eyelets. Sunghoon takes the moment to look at him and wonder how Minhee feels about his own damaged relationship with his mum. Was it as conflicting for him or was the decision to rid his mother from your family easy?

Sunghoon sits down on the saved seat next to Minhee, leaning back against the wall, his head thumping.

“You okay?” Minhee asks tentatively, not wanting to poke the bear.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon opens his eyes to gaze at Minhee, “Can I ask you something?” Nodding, Minhee sits up straight, awaiting the impending question, “Your mum, was it easy to, like, disown her?” It’s a strange question to ask someone but he hopes that Minhee’s answer will give him some clarity into his own situation. 

Minhee ponders, never having really thought about it before, “I think it was, I mean, she put Y/N in danger, treated us both like shit, and blamed me for a lot of things that I didn’t have any control over. Emotionally, I think me and Y/N were both detached from her, which made it easy.”

Sitting with Minhee’s words, Sunghoon realises that the reason he finds it so hard to let go of the relationship with his mum is because he does care about her. She was cold and cruel, but never harmed him in any way. Her actions weren’t one of a mother but in comparison to you and Minhee’s mum, she was at least a smidge better. 

Each mother strives for her kid to succeed, but the stark contrast resides in the motives driving their acts. While Sunghoon's mother pushed him to achieve out of a genuine desire for his success, Minhee's mother's obsession with propelling him to the top sprang from her own selfish gain.

Watching Sunghoon wrestle with his inner turmoil, Minhee places a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I may not fully understand what's happening between you and your mum, but from one disappointing son to another," he says with a soft smile, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere, “If there is a chance to fix your relationship, take it. As much as I’m happy my bitch of a mother won’t be in my life anymore, it doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different. If you and your mum can sort it out, do it.” 

Minhee’s speech is comforting, freeing Sunghoon of some of the tension in his body regarding the situation with his mother. It’s always a risk to forgive someone or give them a second chance, but it can also lead to stronger relationships.

In this moment, Sunghoon can at least say his mother is willing to try and redeem herself, unlike some mums in the world. It’s the bare minimum, but it’s a start.

"Thanks, Minhee," Sunghoon says, offering a grateful smile, "Do we kiss now, or?"

Minhee lets out a snort of laughter, playfully pushing his friend away. "Save those lips for the other Kang sibling, please," he teases, rising to his feet and balancing on his skates. "Although if you ever get bored of her…"

With an exaggerated wink, Minhee saunters out of the locker room, leaving Sunghoon feeling lighter and more at ease. This was exactly the conversation Sunghoon needed, Minhee was the unexpected friend he needed. 

_____

You exchange the biting chill of the winter for the bustling ice rink as you step inside the venue. The vibrant atmosphere envelops you like a warm embrace. Excitement crackles in the air, mingling with the sounds of blades slicing through the ice and the chatter of eager spectators. With Nationals in full swing, anticipation pulses through the crowd as they await the next performances.

You arrived early to ensure you caught Minhee before his turn on the ice. As the women's event concludes, leaving only three skaters left, the arena buzzes with energy

Navigating through the throngs of people, your eyes scan the crowded rink for any sign of your brother. The busy venue makes it tough to find him, and you don’t even know what he is wearing. To be fair, he probably wouldn’t be out in the open arena, but rather residing backstage as he awaits the start of the men’s competition.

You walk up to one of the event staff and ask if you can go backstage to see Minhee, but of course, he doesn’t let you, “Sorry, Miss. Only skaters and coaches are allowed back there,” he says sternly. At least he’s doing his job, you suppose.

"Luckily for her, she's with me, right, Y/N?" Coach Kim's smile is infectious, and you nod eagerly, grateful for his timely intervention.

"Yes, that's right," you chime in, your mind racing to concoct a plausible explanation. "I'm a... a meditator! Yes, a meditator. I help the competitors find their zen before going on stage." You realise your impromptu lie sounds feeble, but you press on, hoping to convince the staff member.

The staff eyes you both sceptically, his scrutiny unnerving, "Then why do you have a family badge?" he questions, his tone heavy with suspicion.

Feeling the weight of his scrutiny, you look to Coach Kim for support, silently pleading for assistance in salvaging the situation.

Coach Kim steps in smoothly, his easy smile never faltering, "Ah, you see, Y/N is an important member of our team so she is practically family. Her position as a meditator is critical to my skater’s performance. She calms and focuses him before he goes out to the rink."

You give Coach Kim an appreciative look, quietly thanking him for his fast thinking. The staff member appears to examine his thoughts for a time before nodding in agreement.

"Alright then, you can go through," the staff member concedes, standing aside to allow you and Coach Kim access to the backstage area.

You walk beside Coach Kim, thanking him over and over again for getting you in. You didn’t just want to see Minhee to wish him luck, you had a surprise for him and Sunghoon, “You’re the best coach, has anyone told you that?” you beam at him.

Laughing, he nods, “A few times, yes, usually you or Minhee when you both want something,” Coach Kim points in front of you, “He’s in there.”

“Thanks, Coach!” you go to wave him off but he stops you in your tracks by gently grabbing your shoulder.

“Y/N, Minhee told me about your mum,” he sighs, troubled by the information. Surely Minhee didn’t tell him about the gambling or the skate incident, so what could he possibly know? “I’ll be candid when I say that I never enjoyed your mum’s company, not for my sake, but for yours and Minhee’s. Her deciding to leave you both high and dry like this is unforgivable,” his voice laces with disgust.

Coach Kim obviously only knows a twisted version of the events that went down recently, Minhee clearly careful with his phrasing. 

“I just want to say, if you both ever need anything at all, a place to live, some extra work, a homecooked meal, whatever it is, you come and find me, okay?” His offer is generous.

To be honest, you hadn’t thought about the repercussions of your mother no longer being by your side. Where would you and Minhee live now? How would you manage to make ends meet without her support? The questions swirl around in your mind, each one more daunting than the last.

“You and Minhee, you’re both strong kids. I have faith that everything will work out for you, so don’t think too much about it. Just enjoy today,” he says as if reading your anxious mind. 

Coach Kim's reassurance offers a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty. His belief in your strength and resilience reminds you that you're not alone in this, that there are people who care about your well-being and are willing to help you navigate the challenges ahead.

With a final ruffle in your hair, Coach Kim leaves you in the corridor, his words of encouragement resonating in your ears. It was nice to have his support, it makes you feel like maybe you and Minhee had a support system all along, all you had to do was shed your poison of a mother.

Your feet carry you to the door to the locker room, chapping it rapidly. You can’t wait to see him and wish him luck. Although your apprehension weighs strongly regarding the skate and how important it is for him to win, not just for his pride but also for your safety and future.

You haven’t had a lot of time to come to terms with how much trouble you could be in if your brother loses this competition; the foolish bets your mum has made in your name, taking money from some shady guys to make them, and how you’re somehow on the firing line in this situation - it’s a lot to deal with mentally.

Telling Sunghoon to just skate to the best of his abilities wasn’t because you aren’t scared of what could happen, you just wanted Minhee to know that he can win this on his own, no cheating, no Sunghoon letting him win, absolutely no interferences. After everything that has transpired with your mum, he needed this.

Of course, you need to be safe, if these bets fall short and you’re left with the debt, you can say goodbye to university and any of your tiny savings. If the men are as brute as Minhee made them out to be, you’re fucked with no way out of it.

Curiosity got the better of you this morning and you checked the odds for Minhee winning this competition which was 15:1. According to Minhee, she put on £50,000 which would mean she would get 750k. It’s more money than you could imagine having in your entire life and it makes you angry that not only has your mum put you in danger but that you wouldn’t see a penny of it.

The money isn’t important to you but the fact that she was essentially putting money above her own daughter's safety is a crazy, rage-inducing thought that you don’t think you will ever get over. How could you? And to make Minhee feel like he couldn’t win on his abilities alone? She has destroyed both of your self-worth and confidence over the years.

So today, your sole focus is on being there for Minhee, rooting for him and believing in his ability to shine as the extraordinary skater you know him to be. 

As you knock again, you hear rustling around as someone comes to answer the door. The metal swings open to reveal your boyfriend, hair dishevelled as if he’s just combed his fingers through it and his costume twisted.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” he asks, poking his head out the door to check if anyone saw you coming backstage. Quickly, he pulls you in, “How did you sneak past?”

Your eyes swiftly trace the room to see the skaters all getting ready, some in just their boxers and others applying the last sparkles of their body mist. One guy is strutting around with tighty whities, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Sunghoon notices your eyes stuck to something before swivelling his head to catch sight of the well-endowed man, “Sweets don’t make me knock fuck out of every guy in this room,” he warns as one of his hands pinches your chin to drag your eyes away from the half-naked men and focus on him.

Honestly, the tint of jealousy etching onto his face is so hot, you wonder if you should start oggling at others more often. Sunghoon raises his brows, waiting for you to explain, “Sorry, Hoonie. I’ve never seen so many guys in their underwear before,” you try to use it as an excuse, as if the unfamiliar sight warrants your interest but Sunghoon isn’t buying it.

“It will be the last time you see it, I can promise you that,” he scoffs, taking your hand and pulling you towards the back of the room, clear out of everyone’s line of sight, or more, everyone out of your sight.

He places you so your back is against the sea of skaters, “So what are you doing here?” he asks again, this time a little more playfully, “Want a quickie before I go on?” he leans down to your lips, kissing you softly, “I can bend you over and show all these losers who you belong to.”

Shivers run across your spine as he kisses you, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. Someone walks by behind you and Sunghoon pulls you closer to him, eyeing the boy as he devours you in front of him.

Sunghoon was only half joking about fucking you in the middle of the locker room for everyone to see. He wanted everyone to know you were his and only his and no one should even look at you for longer than a second. If anyone dares to stare too long, he’ll make sure they can’t ever look at anything again through the black eyes and blood.

You give into his kiss and press your body against his, your tongues licking one another as you moan into his mouth.

“You’re both disgusting. Are you seriously going to fuck in a locker room with loads of people around?” Minhee comes up behind you, arms crossed as you and Sunghoon separate your bodies from one another.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Sunghoon murmurs into your ear, his lips brushing against your lobe as he reminisces about the countless intimate moments you've shared in Belmore. Suppressing a laugh, you feel a playful squeeze on your ass from Sunghoon, much to your brother's chagrin.

Minhee recoils, his expression contorted in disgust, "Guys, I might vomit if you keep grinding on each other while I'm right here," he pleads, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and humour.

With an affectionate eye-roll, you approach Minhee and envelop him in a tight hug, "Sorry, we forgot that displaying affection around you is considered a crime," you quip, injecting a touch of playful banter into the moment.

Minhee feigns annoyance, but you can see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I have a weak stomach," he retorts, trying to maintain his composure despite the teasing. As he lets go of your embrace, he notices something Sunghoon failed to, “What’s that?”

He points to the rolled-up A3 piece of card in your left hand. Through Sunghoon’s displays of affection, it’s slightly bashed at the edges but no real damage has been done.

“Oh! I made you both something,” you scurry around, pushing Minhee to stand next to Sunghoon as you unravel the white card, “Ta-da!”

While they were gone this morning, you took it upon yourself to make a sign. Typically, you always make a sign for Minhee at each competition, so the gesture is nothing new, however, this time, you had two people to support.

Sunghoon and Minhee both resemble puppies as they tilt their head in curiosity, reading the sign.

“Minhoon?” your brother reads out, “Is that…”

“It’s both your names merged! I thought it would be fun to support my two boys together this time,” you smile widely, holding your artwork proudly.

The sign took you approximately an hour and a half to complete, ensuring that each of their personalities was represented perfectly. On Minhee's side, you incorporated his favourite colour combination of black and blue, adorned with stickers of stars, Pochacco, and dainty white bows. This aesthetic is quintessentially Minhee, and he adores it, especially because you add a star for every gold he's earned.

On Sunghoon's side, you opted for a sleek white and black backdrop, accentuated with pink hearts to symbolise the number of months you've been together. To complete the symmetry, you included two little pictures of Tuxedosam, perfectly mirroring each side of the sign.

As you step back to admire your handiwork, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've captured the essence of both Minhee and Sunghoon in this thoughtful gesture.

Minhee and Sunghoon exchange a glance before erupting into laughter, the absurdity of the earlier debacle and their playful charade of a secret love affair only amplifying the hilarity of the situation.

However, your heart sinks as you mistake their laughter for mockery. A small pout forms on your lips as you gaze at them, hurt evident in your eyes. "Is it not good?" you ask, your voice tinged with disappointment.

Instantly, Sunghoon and Minhee's laughter fades, replaced by a solemn expression as they see the hurt reflected in your eyes. Without hesitation, Minhee reaches out, his voice gentle as he reassures you, "No, no, Bubs, we love it, don't we, Sunghoon?" He looks to his friend, who nods earnestly in agreement. "See? We were just laughing about something else earlier," Minhee explains softly, wrapping an arm around you for comfort.

Feeling reassured by Minhee's words and his comforting embrace, you let out a relieved sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Oh," you say, a small smile returning to your lips as you realise your misunderstanding. "Well, as long as you both like it, that's what matters."

Sunghoon nods in agreement, his expression sincere. "It's perfect, Sweets. Thank you so much" he says softly, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. This is Sunghoon’s first sign brought by someone he loves and he could not be more thankful that the first one was handmade by the love of his life.

“C’mere,” Minhee wraps his other arm around Sunghoon, forming the three of you in a huddle, “Whatever happens today, I just want you both to know that I really am sorry for everything that’s gone on and I would take it all back,” he says sadly, knowing that his actions have caused distress and pain to the one person he loves in the world.

“I wouldn’t,” Sunghoon says suddenly, causing you and Minhee to look at him, “I don’t know, I think this has just brought us closer together, who wouldn’t want that outcome?”

Nodding, you both agree with his sentiment. This troubled time has been a rollercoaster but you’ve found strength in one another through it all. Would you wish your mother’s implications weren’t a part of it all? Sure, but look at the three of you now. You’ve bonded in ways you would never think possible.

And your boyfriend and brother are becoming friends, that is all you could ask for in a situation like this.

Minhee stares into Sunghoon’s eyes as he tries to communicate with him. He doesn’t know you know about their plan, and he certainly doesn’t know about you requesting Sunghoon to go against your brother’s wishes.

Nodding once as if answering Minhee’s internal question, Sunghoon steps back, sighing, “Now can one of you please help me with this costume? I’m tangled at the back and I don’t know how,” he begs, turning to show his dilemma.

“Mate, you’ve got your arm inside out,” Minhee says with a snort, solving the problem with one gentle pull of the sleeve and turning it the right way around. He buttons it up for him at the back before slapping his back roughly, “Okay, I gotta go, I’m on in 30 minutes and I wanna see what it’s like out there.”

“Good luck, Minhee,” Sunghoon says, a smile on his face as he brings him in for a hug, “Do well,” he squeezes him tighter.

Reciprocating his hug, Minhee smiles, “You too. And watch that skate,” he jokes as he pulls away to hug you next.

Sunghoon playfully huffs and crosses his arms, "Not funny, okay? It's too soon," he retorts, a smirk tugging at his lips. Despite the jest, there's a genuine camaraderie between them, a shared understanding of each other's quirks and humour.

You playfully punch Minhee's arm for his remark, eliciting a laugh from him before he waves you both off, heading towards the side of the rink to prepare for his performance.

As Minhee disappears from view, you're left alone with Sunghoon once again. He picks up the sign, a fond smile gracing his features, "I've always wanted one of these," he admits wistfully, his gaze lingering on the sign with a mixture of appreciation and affection.

You smile at Sunghoon's words, touched by his genuine sentiment, "I'm glad you like it," you say softly, stepping closer to him and resting your hand on his arm, "I wanted to do something special for you, sorry it was tied in with Minhee but I always make him a sign so,” you explain, stroking his forearm.

“I don’t care, I love it regardless because you made it.” Sunghoon’s eyes reflect warmth and gratitude as he gently places the sign against the wall.

“I promise, next competition when it’s just you, I’ll make one for only you,” you beam up at him, fixing his tussled hair as best as you can, leaving a kiss on his nose. Sunghoon looks deeply at you as if coming to a realisation about something, but you miss it, too busy focusing on the parting of his hair. 

He holds your hips as you reach up to fix the back, his fingers squeezing you tightly as his heart flutters at the simple gesture. With the nape of your neck bare and in teasing Sunghoon, he leans down and places soft kisses upon it, savouring this moment.

The sudden affection makes you close your eyes, your hands now leaving his hair to hug him around his shoulders. His heart is thumping so loud you can hear it.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, nuzzling your nose into his hair. He doesn’t verbally respond, opting for a quick shake of the head but you can feel it in your bones that he is lying, his body betraying him, “You don’t have to be. Everything will work out whatever way the universe intends.”

Removing himself from you, Sunghoon gazes into your eyes once again except this time they’re filled with doubt. He is petrified of this skate because he knows if he accidentally wins, you’re in danger and that scares him because the threat is much more than he can handle. He doesn’t want to go against your request but for your health and safety, he will, he just has to do it sneakily so no one is mad at him. “You are going to do great, everything will be fine, and no offence but I really do think Minhee can win this,” you reiterate the words you’ve been saying to him since yesterday, only further proving your belief in your brother.

Sunghoon nods, but there's a hint of resignation in his gesture. "I wish I had someone like you in my corner while I was growing up," he confesses, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he looks away. His gaze flickers to the ground, weighed down by the weight of his past.

"You did have someone – your dad," you remind him gently, reaching out to bring his forehead to touch yours. "And you still do. He's been watching over you this whole time, and he is so proud of you."

Sunghoon closes his eyes, allowing your comforting words to wash over him like a soothing balm. In that moment of vulnerability, he finds solace in the warmth of your embrace, the love and support you offer serves as motivation to keep you safe.

He nudges your nose with his as he speaks in a hushed tone, “Are you proud of me?”

For years it was his parent’s love and pride he fought for, his father giving it up so easily in comparison to his mother, but now it’s only you who he needs reassurance and love from. Sunghoon wants to make you proud in every way he possibly can.

Your eyes sparkle with love for him, “Sunghoon, my body is bursting with how proud you have made me. There is not a fibre of my being that isn’t proud of you,” you try to convey your genuity, knowing he needs to hear it most right now.

Sunghoon's heart swells at your words, a wave of relief coming over him as he hears the sincerity in your voice. Your unconditional support means everything to him, and in that moment, he feels a sense of peace knowing that he has you by his side.

Tears well up in his eyes as he pulls you into a tight embrace, cherishing the warmth and comfort of your presence. "Thank you," he whispers hoarsely, his voice filled with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you. I love you so much, Y/N. I feel like I can’t breathe without you.”

As you hold Sunghoon tightly, his words sinking deep into your heart, you feel overwhelmed by the depth of your love for him. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, mirroring his own, as you realise just how deeply intertwined your lives have become.

"I love you too, Sunghoon," you whisper back, your voice barely audible, but filled with unwavering conviction, "You're my everything and I promise you, you don’t have to worry. I'll always be here for you, through every moment, every challenge. You're not alone, and you never will be,” you whisper into his ear.

With those words, you offer him the reassurance and comfort he needs, your promise of unwavering support echoing in the space between you. In this embrace, you find solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

______

Settling into your seat in the designated family and friends area, you turn your attention towards the entrance of the rink, where Minhee is seen stretching. His expression is a mix of anticipation and apprehension, the weight of expectations palpable on his shoulders.

Minhee may have struck a deal with Sunghoon to secure a win, but with that agreement comes the added pressure of not making any mistakes. One wrong move could unravel everything, turning his carefully laid plans into chaos. As he prepares to take the ice, the intensity of the moment hangs heavy in the air.

Flicking his blade protectors off, Minhee glides onto the ice, circling the rink to warm up and familiarise himself with the surface beneath his skates. Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, his mind is filled with positive affirmations, each one a silent plea for a flawless performance.

With every lap, he pushes himself to perfection, knowing that this is his moment to shine. All he has to do is skate flawlessly, and everything will fall into place. Yet, despite the gravity of the situation, he tries to brush off the pressure with a casual "no pressure."

You watch him with a mixture of pride and hope, wishing you could convey your unwavering belief in him. You long for him to channel that same sparkle and determination that captivated everyone during his run-through at Belmore. As he takes his position in the middle of the rink, you silently send him all the positive energy and support you can muster, hoping some of it can be injected into him as he performs.

Shutting his eyes, the music begins and a hush falls over the audience, anticipation crackling in the air like electricity. With each breath, he channels his nerves into focus, his determination evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes.

Minhee launches into his routine with precision and grace. His movements are fluid, each step and turn executed with meticulous precision as he glides effortlessly across the ice. The audience is glued to him from the start, paying close attention following his every movement with rapt concentration. Minhee pushes himself to new heights with each jump and spin, blending his skills with his artistry, only making your heart swell with immense pride.

You hold your breath, slowly hiding your face behind the sign that you made as you know which part of his routine is coming next.

As the music crescendos, Minhee approaches the most difficult part: the quadruple axel, the one move he has based this whole routine on. He takes a deep breath, collects his strength, and throws himself into the air, spinning faster and faster until he completes four full rotations before landing with perfect elegance, leaving the audience breathless.

Standing up in amazement, you tuck your sign under your arm and clasp your hands, knowing it’s impolite to scream out of pure joy when an athlete is competing. Minhee’s quadruple axel today might have been the best you’ve seen in your entire life; the move is deemed one of the most difficult to accomplish and he just made it look like he does it every other Saturday.

Minhee expertly transitions into the last section of his performance, his confidence surging as he executes each element with accuracy and delicacy. His movements are filled with emotion, and his passion shines through in every beautiful gesture as he narrates a tale with each stride. He knows now is a straight run of easy manoeuvres he carefully choreographed to make sure the axle was the shining star of the performance.

It also means he can finally spare you a glance as he finds you in the crowd, a smile creeping on his face as he sees you standing with pride. You look hopeful that he might win and with your backing, that’s all he needs. He wishes he could win this without Sunghoon performing with the intent of losing, but he still has time to achieve that - your safety is all that matters.

As the music fades to its final notes, Minhee brings his performance to conclusion, his arms outstretched in triumph as he basks in the adulation of the crowd. The cheers that erupt from them are so loud you swear the glass might break. You can see the commentators also getting up in excitement, clearly enthralled by his performance. 

And when Minhee makes his last bow, a sense of fulfilment sweeps over you, knowing that he had not only met, but exceeded all expectations that he and others had set for himself. 

Gliding off the ice, he is met with the bone-crushing embrace of Coach Kim who adorns a wide smile on his face and tears in his eyes. The weight of their shared journey is evident in the strength of their embrace and Coach Kim's words of praise and encouragement are lost in the roar of the crowd, but the pride shining in his eyes says it all.

You want to be at Minhee's side, to share in the excitement of his triumph and to lavish him with praise. However, as you watch from the sidelines, witnessing Coach Kim and Coach Lee wrap him in a cocoon of love and praise, you can find comfort in knowing that he is receiving the ovation and admiration he deserves.

Minhee's heart expands with pride and delight, filling his chest with an incredible sensation of accomplishment. The excitement of the moment envelopes him like a warm hug, putting him on cloud 9. 

Coach Kim leads him to the seating area where he must sit to see his final score. You sit with ease, knowing that this will be his highest mark to date, an accomplishment in itself.

As Minhee awaits the display of his scores, a nervous energy pulses through him, his heart pounding in his chest with anticipation. Every muscle in his body tenses as he fixates on the screen, his breath caught in his throat as he waits for the verdict of his performance.

Then, in a flurry of movement, the numbers appear on the screen, each category receiving high points for technicality and artistry, and Minhee's eyes widen in disbelief. The numbers on the screen read 298.5, causing both you and Minhee’s faces to mimic one another despite being on opposite ends of the arena.

Having never before topped a score of 213.74 - an incredible accomplishment in and of itself - his new record catapults him to a whole new level, putting him alongside figure skating giants like Nathan Chen and Yuzuru Hanyu.

You don’t even think Sunghoon has scored that well before.

Minhee stands frozen for a moment, absorbing the weight of his achievement, before a radiant smile breaks across his face. It's a culmination of years of dedication, sacrifice, and unwavering determination.

“Fuck me!” he shouts, jumping up to hug Coach Kim once again. There are more elegant ways to celebrate than swearing on national television, but you can’t blame him for being completely besotted with himself.

The crowd’s cheers die down and the atmosphere returns to a calm-like state, only chatter filling the silence as people discuss their amazement over your brother's skating. You could not be more proud of him if you tried.

Now you just need to wait for Sunghoon, hoping the tremendous score Minhee got would serve as enough influence to just do his best and not throw it for the sake of your mother’s stupid consequences. 

An hour passes after Minhee's electrifying performance, the energy in the arena is crackling with excitement as the crowd eagerly awaits Sunghoon's turn on the ice. He is the golden boy of the figure skating world, and there is a lot of pressure on him to succeed, however, if he fails this one time, no one will be able to blame him or bat an eye at it; the score your brother set is almost impossible to beat.

You sit on the edge of your seat, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him lumber up, his movements cautious as he tests his ankle to ensure it's ready for his performance.

He glides onto the ice, warming up with some jumps and simple stretches. His ankle, still tender from the previous injury, protests with each turn and twist, but Sunghoon pushes through the pain. This was a 2-minute and 40-second skate, it’ll be over in a flash and he just has to get through it. 

Sunghoon won’t admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, but being in front of all these people is terrifying him. The last time he performed this skate, in this outfit, in front of this many people, was the day he snapped his ankle. Not only the injury from it but the emotional damage it caused was hard to live with, and now it’s almost as if he is living that day all over again.

He glances around the family area to find you, sitting in your seat with adoration spread across your entire face. It’s like you have him under a spell, how his worries and fears seem to melt away as his eyes meet yours; the love between you casts a blanket of protection over his worries, the thoughts of making a complete full of himself gone so quickly, simply because of the sparkle in your eye.

Sunghoon skates over to your side, flashing you his beautiful smile, your favourite canines on full display. He looks so beautiful right now, the pressure normally placed on his shoulders by his mother has now vanished. This is the first competition he has participated in without the nagging of being perfect gnawing in his brain.

It’s comforting to know that even when he loses today, he has someone to run to who will show him love and appreciation for his efforts. 

However, the words of his mother's promise from their earlier conversation twirl in his brain. Sunghoon wonders if they really could reconcile through all of this, after everything they’ve been through. He wanted love and his mother couldn’t provide him with that. But maybe she really is willing to make an effort, perhaps all they needed was some time to mend their relationship.

Once Nationals is over he’ll deal with that, but for now, he needs to focus. He might be set to lose but he will be damned if he comes anything but second.

Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon puts his arm in the air, gearing up for his performance as he stands in position. He looks like a vision in his costume, the spotlight on him makes the jewels shine brighter and the silhouette of his trimmed figure under the shirt is more evident than the first time you saw him in it. Rina had a talent for creating clothes but perhaps she should consider a career in designing skating costumes.

As the haunting melody of "Ocean Eyes" by Billie Eilish fills the arena, Sunghoon begins his routine. You don’t realise you’re holding your breath and your hands are clasped so tight together that they’re turning white. You want him to do well, to show everyone that even with an injury still looming under his taped up ankle, he is still miles above the rest.

Sunghoon launches into a flawless triple axel as the music swells, his body soaring through the air with precision and grace. He lands it clean, a small smile on his face despite his ankle pulsing. He hadn’t realised how sore it had been over the past few days, perhaps all that rehearsal time and coming back too early had finally done some damage. But that doesn’t matter right now, what matters is finishing the routine.

And to have fun.

With each beautiful turn and twist, Sunghoon's is reviving a passion that had laid dormant for far too long. It's a revelation, a flashback to his old self, a child consumed by the pure excitement of skating.

In the rink, he's letting go of his inhibitions and embracing the moment, a contrast to the stoicism that has defined almost all of his past competitions. The judges can see it too, with the joy he is showcasing through each glide of his blades across the ice, they are mesmerised. This is the Sunghoon that the people fell in love with, the skater that made them proud.

When he reaches the finale of his skate, performing a stunning combination spin that leaves the audience breathless, Sunghoon realises he has accomplished something far better than any medal or acclaim could ever provide. In this moment of perfect bliss, he reconnects with his passion, purpose, and the simple joy of skating.

You had shown him how to love skating again throughout your relationship, now added with the lack of pressure to win, he can finally breathe.

He’s home.

You are the first one to stand up, applauding your man for his flawless skate. It was perfect, he was perfect. The crowd follows suit, cheering and yelling as he bows, letting the praise wash over his body. You could not be prouder of him, the tears in your eyes are a testament to your feelings.

This is your first time seeing him in competition as his girlfriend which probably adds to the swelling of your heart, but it’s more than that. You have been a fan of Sunghoon for a lot longer and as a fan, there is nothing more fulfilling than seeing your favourite person achieve something, even if the accomplishment is happiness, you want him to be bathed in it.

However, with Sunghoon performing possibly one of his best skates in the past couple of years, it does set in the back of your mind that he still has to lose. You told him to go out there and give it everything he has but now the moment is getting closer and closer to determining your fate, you’re a little on edge.

You’re trying not to think about it because you know Minhee has done amazing and if he truly does beat Sunghoon today, you can breathe easy knowing you made the right call and that Minhee did this all on his own. 

Your brother needs this.

Sunghoon stands straight and skates around the rink, lapping up the crowd's adoration. You’re too caught up in your head you almost forget your surprise for him; it wasn’t just the sign that you had planned.

Traditionally, skaters get things thrown into the ring; plushies, roses, the whole lot. Minhee was partial to receiving little dog plushies and yellow sunflowers - the perfect accompaniment to his brand. And Sunghoon would always receive roses and penguin toys, but you wanted to throw something that as he saw it on the ice, he would know instantly that it was from you.

Delving into your bag, your fingers close around the familiar packaging of Haribos. With a proud smile, you launch them onto the pristine ice, a playful gesture laden with significance. For you and Sunghoon, the colourful sweeties hold a special place in your hearts.

It was a reminder of not only you but of his dad. It’s something so silly but sacred to you both, the first knot in your invisible string. His father had been the bridge to connect you both when you were younger and if he could see you both now, he would be filled with unfiltered happiness.

Gliding gracefully toward your side, he spots the sweets nestled within the sea of roses and looks up at you, his eyes widening in glee.

With the Haribos clutched to his chest, he silently mouths 'I love you,' to which you reciprocate with a beaming grin, watching fondly as he skates back towards the rink's exit.

Coach Lee is the first to greet him, ruffling his hair and patting him on the shoulder as he sings his praises. It’s a little strange not seeing his mother there but Sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, too busy basking in the love from his coach. 

Walking to the couch area, he sits and awaits his score. It just has to be under 298.5, that’s all it has to be. He grips the packet of sweets tight as he rethinks his whole performance. Perhaps he skated a little too well and that scared him because that can only mean you’re in danger of having those men after you. 

He can defend you from a hockey player, but against a literal loan shark, he's out of his depth with that one.

As the scores begin to round up on the giant screen, your heart races with anticipation. Each number revealed feels like a drumbeat, echoing the beating of your heart. Usually, you would be begging it to slow down, your heart typically adorning a rapid pace in events like these, yet it is so still you think it might stop. It only seems to beat as each individual score is revealed.

Sunghoon is the same, fondling the Haribos like a stress ball as he sees the high scores, some seem higher than Minhee’s which nearly puts him into cardiac arrest. If he wins over Minhee, he might vomit all over his coach.

Then - as if the world has stopped - the final score flashes on the screen and materialises itself before you and Sunghoon. 

Gasping, you drop your sign and shoot up, mouth hung open as your eyes stay glued to the numbers before you.

296.21

Minhee won.

Minhee won.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, a smile splits your cheeks and your knees shake under you. Your brother won, through all his hard work and determination, he beat Sunghoon. And not only that, he bet him with his highest score to match. Sunghoon’s performance was awe-inducing, clearly indicated by the momentous score he just received, yet Minhee still managed to overtake him.

As Coach Lee offers Sunghoon a consoling pat on the shoulder, the atmosphere is thick with tension. Yet, Sunghoon can't feign disappointment. At this moment, there's only one thought racing through his mind.

You're safe.

Once the commotion settles down around the arena, the final scoreboard is unveiled to reveal your two boys at the top, miles above the others. It’s a moment you never want to forget, seeing their names beside one another with their respective medals makes you feel a happiness that you know comes few and far between.

The staff set up the podiums on the ice which are soon to hold your brother and boyfriend in pride of place. This is new, they’ve been battling each other for the top spot their entire careers yet this one feels slightly different.

Perhaps it’s because if your mother holds her end of the bargain, you’re free of the debt that you didn’t even create and she is hopefully nowhere to be seen after today. You want to be sad about it, but regardless of how strange it will be to no longer have her there, you’re thankful that Minhee can be free of her burden and you free of her deceit. 

You watch on as Minhee and Sunghoon skate to their places, carefully stepping on the white boxes as the triumphant music plays through the speakers. They have done so well, much better than anyone could have anticipated.

With each medal ceremoniusly placed around their necks, the weight of the accomplishment settles upon Minhee. He thinks about what this means for you both and tears well up in his eyes. 

You’re both going to have to start from scratch and find a new home to call yours. But he is also going to the Olympics, something he has dreamed of since he was a little boy, something you have wanted for him since he incessantly started talking about it. 

His heart is filled with bittersweet symphonies as he looks ahead but he knows one thing is for certain - he will make sure you’re both happy.

“You can cry, y’know,” Sunghoon whispers beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing tight. When Sunghoon won his first National Gold, he wept like a baby in front of everyone and the pictures snapped became memes on Twitter by the next day.

Sniffling back his emotions, Minhee shakes his head. He refuses to let the floodgates open, fearing he won't be able to stem the tide once it begins. Each tear would symbolise the myriad of emotions he's bottled up over the past few months.

Instead, Minhee leans in close to Sunghoon, his words a soft murmur against his ear. "When I asked you to throw it, I didn't mean by the skin of your teeth. I almost lost," his voice carries a hint of frustration, though it's tempered by the overwhelming happiness of their victory.

Though Minhee is elated at the win, there's a simmering undercurrent of anger towards Sunghoon for nearly jeopardizing their chance to resolve the situation.

"But you didn't," Sunghoon responds with a playful grin, though Minhee finds little amusement in the situation. With a sigh, Sunghoon explains, "Y/N asked me not to, okay? You've known her your whole life, you understand how hard it is to say no to her."

Your brother can't help but agree; there's an undeniable sway you hold over others. Minhee nods, straightening up as the photographer captures a few shots of the medalists.

Turning to face Minhee, the silver medalist offers reassurance once the pictures have been taken, "You did this on your own, that's all she wanted, okay? You have a sister who believes in you more than anything else in the world. In a way, it's her trust in you that propelled you to this moment. People would do anything for that kind of support," Sunghoon whispers the last sentence, acknowledging the depth of his own longing for such unwavering belief.

Minhee knows he is lucky to have you in his corner. Often, he wonders what it would have been like to not have you by his side, and looking at Sunghoon’s dejected face now, he sees what it’s like.

“You have her too, Sunghoon. She’s got enough room in her heart for both of us, to watch us both succeed,” Minhee smiles softly, nudging his old rival with his arm, “Just don’t steal her from me, she’s all I have now.”

“You’re wrong,” Sunghoon wraps his arm around his newfound friend, “You’ve got me! Some would say that’s better than Y/N,” he exclaims with enthusiasm.

Rolling his eyes, Minhee fights a smile as he pushes Sunghoon off of him, a laugh escaping his lips. Sunghoon will fit right into his life, that much he’s certain of now.

_____

You stand amidst the bustling crowd, eagerly awaiting the arrival of your boyfriend and brother. The arena is alive with excitement, vibrant with the chatter of spectators praising both Sunghoon and Minhee's impressive performances.

As people stream past you, caught up in the post-competition buzz, you can't help but feel a swell of pride washing over you. It's almost as if you were the one receiving the accolades, so deeply invested are you in their success.

Then, you spot them making their way towards you, their medals gleaming proudly around their necks even as they've already changed into their regular clothes. To be fair, if you had won a gold or silver medal, you know you wouldn't ever want to take it off either.

With a quickening of your heart, you jog up to meet them halfway, your body colliding with Minhee’s as you hug him tight, squeezing him so hard that he could pop. But instead of complaining, he reciprocates with the same amount of enthusiasm.

“I can’t believe I won,” he says quietly, scared that if he says it too loud someone will pull him from this dream he is living in.

"I knew you could do it, Mini,” you mutter into his chest, your face squashed against him. 

Kissing the crown of your head, he pushes you away, “Sunghoon told me you know about everything, what I asked him to do for me,” he says almost ashamed, holding your head close to his chest so you can’t see his face. He doesn’t want you to think less of him for having to beg Sunghoon to help him get you out of this mess you were unknowingly a part of, “He also told me that you told him to go against my plan.”

“I believed in you, Minhee,” you finally fight to pull your head from his embrace, gazing into his eyes as you try to project the belief you have onto him, “I knew you could do this on your own. No underhanded tactics, just you and your skates. I have always believed in you like that,” you pout as you see the words sink into his brain, a soft glow rushing over his face as your words instil him wil self-belief.

“Thank you, Bubs, for always being here for me,” he closes his eyes, a determined expression painting his features, “If she tries to come back and hurt you in any way or if she doesn’t keep her word I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe,” he says, speaking about your mother. It was hard for him to even call her that anymore.

Minhee says the words with conviction as he stares deep into your eyes. In some weird way, your mother's shenanigans have helped you and Minhee grow a bond stronger than ever before, something that should be deemed impossible, yet here you are. 

Feeling the warmth of Minhee's embrace, you nod against his chest, your words a solemn promise, "Me too. I'll make sure you're living the life you want, the life you deserve."

The sentiment hangs in the air between you, a shared understanding of the depth of your commitment to each other's happiness and fulfillment. For a few precious moments, you simply hold onto each other, drawing strength from the connection you share as siblings.

But as your boyfriend coughs softly, attempting to subtly regain your attention, you gently pull away from Minhee's embrace, though the warmth of his presence lingers with you. 

Turning towards your boyfriend with a reassuring smile, “Are you jealous you’re not getting attention?”

You finally throw yourself into Sunghoon's arms, a wide grin spreading across your face as you greet him with a deep, passionate kiss. You’re so full of love that if you don’t pass it onto him through your tongue sweeping into his mouth, you might implode.

As you break away, a sense of elation fills the air around you. Sunghoon's arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you close as if he never wants to let you go. His eyes sparkle with pride and affection, mirroring your own emotions.

"You did amazing, Hoonie," you whisper, holding onto him tighter as you pass your affection from your body to his. "Thank you so much." Your gratitude flows freely, a testament to your appreciation for his trust in your judgment that Minhee was more than capable of succeeding on his own.

Sunghoon sets you down gently, his hand cupping your cheek as he places a feather-light kiss on your nose, "You're welcome, Sweets," he murmurs affectionately, "Although, I did get a bollocking from Minhee back in the locker room," he adds with a laugh.

Minhee grunts, crossing his arms in mock annoyance, "Well, he deserved it, skating so well and all that," he says with a playful pout, eliciting laughter from you and Sunghoon.

"I'll take the compliment, Baby," Sunghoon retorts, making exaggerated kissy faces at Minhee, the playful banter between the two filling the air with warmth and joy.

“Yeah yeah, look, can you stop hogging my manager for a minute,” Minhee rolls his eyes as he speaks.

But you’re confused by his statement, "Manager?" you repeat sceptically, withdrawing from Sunghoon's embrace to face your brother directly, "What do you mean, manager?"

Minhee shrugs nonchalantly, but you can see the flicker of anticipation in his eyes, "Well, Mum's no longer in the picture, so I'm in need of a manager. And I thought you would be perfect," he explains, his words carrying a mix of hope and excitement.

The weight of his request settles heavily on your shoulders. You've never managed anything more than closing up shop at work, and the idea of being in charge of Minhee's entire career feels overwhelming. Even though you’re at Uni studying Events Management, it wasn’t exactly heavy on the management part, it certainly hasn’t equipped you with the skills to handle such responsibility.

Minhee senses your hesitation, and he steps closer, his expression earnest. "Bubs, I trust you more than anyone else in the world," he says softly, his voice pleading, "And just think of all the travelling you'll get to do, all the contacts you'll make. Please, Y/N. I can't go to the Olympics without you."

The mention of the Olympics sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. The event is being held in Paris this year which is a dream destination you've longed to visit since you were a little girl, and the opportunity to be a part of Minhee's journey to the Olympics fills you with both fear and exhilaration.

"Manager?" you repeat, still trying to wrap your head around the idea. The thought of being responsible for Minhee's career is daunting, but his trust in you is undeniable.

Minhee nods, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, "Yeah, manager," he confirms, his voice tinged with hope. His confirmation of words hit you with a newfound gravity, you realise just how much this means to him. The thought of being by his side, supporting him on his journey fills you with a sense of purpose.

"Okay," you say finally, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach, "I'll do it. I'll be your manager."

A wide smile breaks across Minhee's face, relief flooding his features. He pulls you into a tight hug, his gratitude palpable.

"Thank you, Y/N," he murmurs against your hair, "You won't regret it, I promise." 

Minhee pulls back from the embrace, his enthusiasm obvious, and you can't help but feel a burst of determination rush through you. You're going to attempt to be the best manager this world has ever seen. But when the reality of your new responsibility settles in, a question arises in the back of your mind.

"What about you, Sunghoon?" you inquire, turning to face your boyfriend, "What are you going to do now that you don't have a manager either?"

Sunghoon shrugs casually, though there's a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "I'm figuring it out," he replies with a nonchalant smile, "I don’t know if I really need one."

You can sense the unease lurking beneath his easygoing facade, and it tugs at your heartstrings. While Minhee's proposition has filled you with a sense of purpose, you can't help but worry about Sunghoon navigating the uncertain waters of his career without the support of a manager.

But before you can voice your concerns, Sunghoon reaches out, squeezing your hand reassuringly, "Don't worry about me, Sweets," he says, his voice soft but resolute. "I'll find my way, just like you and Minhee will."

He has a weird look on his face as he rattles his brain, wondering whether to let the next words slip out of his mouth. You stand patiently waiting for him to speak.

“I uh, I think the Olympics is going to be my last big competition,” he says quietly but the words ring in your and Minhee’s ears as your expressions fall into disbelief.

"What do you mean?" you reply, your voice laced with concern. The idea of Sunghoon giving up skating, the very thing he's dedicated his life to, feels unfathomable to you. After all the years of relentless training and unwavering determination, it seems unthinkable that he would consider walking away from it all.

Sunghoon had thought about it for a while, about giving up this life for a more simplistic one but the plunge always seemed too deep. But skating today without worry or fear and no pressure to win, gave him the courage to take the jump.

“I’m gonna ask Coach Kim if I can study under him and coach the kids. I’ve enjoyed doing it when I can and I think it could be good for me,” he explains.

"But this is your dream, Sunghoon," you protest softly, unable to shake the feeling of disbelief, "You've worked so hard for this."

Sunghoon shakes his head, offering you a gentle smile as he squeezes your hand in reassurance, "I found my dream," he says earnestly, his gaze softening as he looks at you, "And it's not about winning first place at competitions. I don’t need to chase anything else when everything I need is in front of me.”

You could melt at his words, the depth of his love and contentment washing over you like a comforting embrace. Sunghoon's clarity and conviction fill you with a sense of awe and admiration, even as you grapple with the weight of his decision. 

In that moment, you realise just how much love this man has for you and how grateful you are to have him by your side. Although you need to make sure this is exactly what he wants.

"But what about all the years of hard work?" you find yourself asking, unable to shake off the concern that gnaws at your heart, "You've sacrificed so much to get to where you are."

Sunghoon's gaze softens, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand, "It wasn't all for nothing, Y/N," he reassures you, his voice tender, "Every moment on the ice, every win and loss, has led me here, to this realisation. I wouldn't trade any of it for the world."

You want to cry as a fan and mourn the loss of one of the best skaters in the industry, but as his other half, you are so immensely proud of him for following his heart and not just doing what others tell him to do.

"And besides," Sunghoon continues, a playful glint dancing in his eyes, "I'll still be skating, just in a different capacity. And who knows? Maybe I'll even finally teach you to do an axel.”

"In her dreams!" Minhee interjects with a booming laugh, breaking into your warm moment with his characteristic humour.

You shoot your brother a playful glare, flipping him off, but your attention remains firmly fixed on Sunghoon, "Okay, if this is what you want, I'll support you," you say, your voice filled with unwavering commitment.

Sunghoon's smile widens at your words, a wave of gratitude washing over him. "Thank you, Sweets," he murmurs, his voice soft with emotion as he pulls you closer, "I love you so fucking much, Y/N."

"I love you too, Hoonie," you reply, your heart swelling with love. "Forever." 

With Minhee's career taking off and Sunghoon embarking on a new journey, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement for what the future holds. Everything has fallen into place, it just took reaching melting point to figure it all out. 

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#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #melting point #aj writes

[multifandomgirl08]

Day At The Karting Track [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Nico starts karting. It opens a small can of worms.

Warning(s): Flashback, Mixed Media (Story + Social Media)

Words: 2k

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Nico had been bouncing around all morning excited for his first karting race. It had been the highlight of his week after flying to Austria to watch Max race after Nico’s last day of daycare before the summer holiday started.

Although Max was excited for Nico, you also knew that he was nervous.

Nico had taken to sitting in the Kart that was gifted to him for his last birthday whenever he could, waiting for the day until he was able to drive on a karting track. The helmet that Nico wore was a replica of one of Max’s old ones. You had taken photos of Nico in his fireproofs after he had eaten breakfast, his racesuit hanging off his waist, the sleeves just barely touching the hardwood floor. He stood proudly against the wall in the entryway of the apartment, with his helmet under his arm. Looking every bit his father’s son.

Max was silent in the kitchen drinking his Red Bull while you packed up your bag with Nico’s little gloves and a pair of sneakers for him to change into for after.

Max hadn’t said much all morning, you had made breakfast for yourself and Nico while Max sat with you both. Nico had so many questions for Max.

“How long does the race last? How many other people are going to be there? Will I be just like you Papa?” Nico had asked one after another in between bites of his food.

Max had answered as many of Nico’s questions as he could, but he had kept his answers short. Although Max loved that Nico loved F1 as much as he did, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Nico to end up driving in motorsports at all.

It was a combination of things; it was hard, it was expensive (both you and Max could afford it), and Max wasn’t sure if he would be the best person to be Nico’s coach. It wasn’t just because Max was away most weekends.

“I don’t want him karting.” Max had said to you late one night after Nico had gone to bed.

“Max, isn’t that his choice to make?” You asked as you lay with him on the couch in the living room.

“No, because… I’m the one who’s going to have to coach him. I’m the one who’s going to have to tell him when he isn’t doing something right. I’m going to have to do things like…” Max didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was going to say.

Max’s “father”, if you could even call him that, was a constant source of stress for Max when it came to raising Nico. From the media which you now knew how to handle, to dealing with the pressure of Jos Verstappen hanging over his head. It was a constant, never-ending battle for him.

Max wasn’t looking at you as his head was resting in your lap staring up at the ceiling.

“You don’t have to.” In reality, you didn’t know the intricacies of how Karting worked, and when it really started to matter if Nico took it seriously. Nico had been 3 and ½ when he had asked you and Max if he could try, and by the time he would turn four he already had all of the needed equipment sitting in the garage of the apartment building ready to be used.

“Yes, I do. Most kids have a coach by the time that they’re 6, and they start competing at the age of 8.” As Max started telling you about the facts, it made it more difficult for you to not think about Nico. He was a kid, he shouldn’t have to think about if he wanted to pursue this so young. “If he starts later, he won’t have a leg up on the kids who have been doing it as long. Starting him young will prepare him for-”

Max cut himself off before burying his head into your thigh. “UHHH!” He yelled in frustration. “This is exactly why I don’t want him karting. I sound like my father when I was Nico’s age.”

It had taken two more months and having Sophie over for dinner to put Max’s mind at ease with Nico karting. You were sitting at the dinner table with Sophie who had helped you cook. Max had his hand in yours gripping it tightly when you had brought it up.

“I know you're concerned about him pursuing this. When you started living with Jos, and he started teaching you about karting I didn’t want to let you go. I didn’t want you to be raised by him like you were. I wanted to protect you, like any parent would. Like you want to for Nico, but I also understood that I had to let you go. I knew one day that I would get to spend as much time with you as I wanted, I just had to wait.” She said before taking a sip from her glass that was on the table.

Both you and Max had glanced over at Nico who was sitting on the carpet in front of the TV with one of his books open. He was turning the pages, looking at the pictures of the characters on the page before Sassy made her way over, pressing herself into Nico’s space. He let out a happy squeal as the cat nuzzled herself under his chin.

“I know that you are concerned about turning out like him. But you’ve already shown your son more compassion as a parent than your father ever did when you were growing up.”

Sophie had walked over and kissed Max on the forehead as if he was still a child before looking over at you and giving you a smile that you read as a silent Thank you. You just nodded before offering to clear the table. Max was quick to get up from his seat and move all of the plates into the kitchen while you and Sophie chatted between the two of you about Nico and yours and Max’s plans for the mid-season break.

Once you got to the track Nico undid his car seat before Max had put the car in park. He had jumped out of the car as soon as he could. Max had gone to chase after Nico while you went over to handle the forms you would need to fill out for him.

You quickly spoke to the woman behind the counter after paying the deposit for the day, and with the receipt, she started to collect a small stack of papers.

“You’re going to need to fill out a waiver today before the race starts.” The woman said. She gave you a clipboard and a pen for you to start filling out the information about Nico.

As you looked over it, you added in all of Nico’s info, like his name, date of birth, and then your eyes fell on the emergency information. Adding in Max’s was easy.

Parent 1

Name: Max Verstappen Relationship to Child: Father

Address: **, ****** ********** ********* Monaco, La Condamine, 98000 Monaco

Phone Number: +33 00*******

You saw the words Parent 2 printed on the paper.

As you stared at the paper you were quick to write down your name. You kept tapping the pen over where it said Relationship to Child. You quickly scribbled down Step-Mother without giving it another thought before copying the address and adding in your own phone number.

It wasn’t that you and Max had never had those conversations about the future. You knew that your relationship was long term and you knew that Max saw a future with you but you had never really talked about how that would affect Nico. Would you be his mother if things seemed to keep progressing the way that they had? Would you be his step-mother if Max ended up proposing?

You pushed the thought from your mind filling out the rest of the papers before you saw Max and Nico come back. You give the papers over to Max so he could sign where his signature was needed. You saw Max turn the pages back over, look at the first page, and then cross something out before handing the papers back to the woman behind the counter.

“Everything looks to be in order.” The woman said giving both you and Max a smile. “The race starts in about 30 minutes. You can have your son set up his things over there.” She pointed to a small set of tables where the parents were sitting strapping their children’s helmets on.

You and Max had helped Nico put on his gloves and his helmet before taking his kart over to where the start line was. The other kids were standing with their parents, some of them looking over at Max knowing exactly who he was. None of the parents had come up to Max to ask for pictures or anything like that but you knew it would probably happen when you were going to be leaving.

Nico sat down in his kart, moving around a little in the seat before you kissed Nico on top of his helmet and Max gave him a fist bump and a nod with a smile. You and Max walked back behind the gate to watch as the boys and a smaller group of girls raced around the track for the allocated time.

You had quickly posted something to your Instagram of a photo you had gotten of Nico earlier on.

ynlnusername added to their story

Nico had ended up finishing the race in third. Max looked at you after it was over, probably blown away at Nico’s natural talent.

You had been at the track for another few hours, meeting and talking to some of the other parents. One of the little boys that Nico had raced against even had the courage to walk up to Max and ask for an autograph. Max at first said that he didn’t have a pen on him before you had pulled out a Sharpie from your bag. You had taken to carrying a few with you just in case.

Max had given you a look that told you everything that you needed to know. Afterward, you had packed up all of Nico’s things and put him in the car. You planned to give him a bath once you got back home. You found it astounding that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the drive back.

When you had gotten up to the apartment Max went with Nico into his bathroom and gave him a bath while you ordered an early dinner for the three of you. Nico ate his fill, and while you and Max had finished eating Nico went to watch some cartoons on the TV.

Eventually, Nico ended up on the couch asleep between you and Max. The sound of the TV gave off a light hum.

“So I wanted to know,” Max started to say after he put his phone down. “Why did you put step-mother on Nico’s emergency contact information earlier?”

You were a little taken aback by Max’s question.

“I mean,” He started again. “I know that we’ve talked about the future and wanting to eventually get married. Did you think that when I proposed you wouldn’t fully be Nico’s mother?”

You knew that in France, and other parts of Europe the process of “adopting” Nico would take some time especially given that you and Max weren’t married, heck you weren’t even engaged yet. Nico didn’t call you anything but Mimi or your name when he could manage to say it.

“I just didn’t want to assume Max.” Nico had a mother, a birth mother who had given him up, but she was still his mom. It was strange because you felt like Nico’s mother, you did everything that a normal mother would do for her son.

Max reached over to lay his hand over yours moving closer to look you in the eyes. You could see the turquoise of Max’s eyes swimming as if you were caught in the ocean. He moved his other hand up to cup your chin.

“You’re his mother Y/N, in every way.” Max leaned up placing his lips against your hair, pulling both you and Nico closer. “Never doubt that.” He muttered.

You nodded against Max’s shoulder before thinking, official papers be damned.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @maximeverstappen

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen

[crueisummer]

𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

series summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

chapter summary: You and Charles stay up talking about your dreams, fears, insecurities, and things that haunt your mind when you're alone.

chapter warnings: vvv emotional, feminism (oh no! jk), derogatory remarks, swearing, mental health, mentions of death (herve, jules, tonio)

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 2 means we're halfway there!! For this chapter, I focused on the delicate's chorus to show the more vulnerable and "human" side of the characters. I will add the other aspects of the song to the following chapters. I also wrote this in a different style but I hope u guys like it. <333 Lastly, thank you all so much for almost 500 likes on the first chapter. ·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·. screaming! crying!

word count: 3.5k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

                ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

01:57 ━━━━●───── 03:52 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

The light beamed into your eyes from the window, intensifying the pounding in your head and increasing your thirst. As you opened your eyes, you squinted against the brightness, gradually adjusting to the sudden flash. Sensing movement beside you, you turned around to find Charles sleeping shirtless beside you. Memories of the previous night flooded back, replaying in your mind.

Before leaving the party with Charles, you looked for Kika to inform her of your departure. Seeing Charles waiting for you near the elevator, phone in hand, she expressed concern with a worried expression. Charles had recently ended a three-year relationship, and his ex happened to be the best friend of his previous ex. Kika was well aware of Charles' red flags, as she knew you, her dear friend Y/N, were known for wholeheartedly loving and falling hard for others who often failed to appreciate you as you deserved.

“Please be careful,” She smiled at you to which you nodded. She watched as you approached Charles and he smiled upon seeing you. As you waved farewell to Kika, she softly whispers to herself, “with each other’s hearts.”

You and Charles found yourselves seated on the floor of your hotel room's living room, uncomfortable party clothes off, cozy hoodies on, and legs crossed, with a spread of chips, beer, and mini alcohol bottles laid out before you. During your conversation, you discovered your shared value of family, discussing the strong relationships you both had with your loved ones.

"Are you close to your mom?" It was a question you always asked the guys you were interested in. You believed that a man who had a good relationship with his mother would treat his partner with love and respect. Although it didn't always turn out to be true, you still posed the question.

"Yeah, the first thing I do when I return to Monaco is visit her. You know, she's the only one I trust to cut my hair?" Charles smiles warmly, reminiscing about his mom. "You see, she's a professional hairdresser. So, sometimes when she watches me on TV, she'll send me a text saying I need a haircut. I just reply with her flight details to come see me, and we laugh about it, but she still comes over. That's why I've never had a bad haircut!"

"That is adorable! How often does she visit and watch your races?" You ask, eager to know more about his mother.

"Well, not as often as I'd like, that's for sure. She usually accompanies Arthur to his races."

"Races? He races too?"

"Yeah, he competes in Formula 2. Sometimes the Formula 1 and 2 races coincide on the same weekends so I get to see them both." You're momentarily taken aback. Wow, they must be RICH rich!

"Formula 2? How many Formulas are there?!" You exaggerate.

"Just three, cheri," he chuckles. "You know, my dad used to race in Formula 3 back in the '90s."

"So, it runs in the family, huh? What does your dad do now?" You inquire, looking down and grabbing a chip. The room falls into an unexpected silence, and you glance up, noticing a soft and melancholic expression on his face.

"Well, actually, I lost my dad seven years ago," he replies, offering a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, Charles! I’m sorry, I had no idea..." Shock overtakes you, and you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand. Is that why he’s only been talking about his mom and brothers the whole night?

He interrupts, "No, it's okay. I think I’m getting used to talking about it. You know, they always interview me about their deaths. Sometimes I feel like they don't truly respect them, or me, and they just want me to talk about them for views and content."

"Deaths?" You're taken aback, struggling to comprehend the weight of his words.

"Yeah, over the past seven years, I've lost three important people in my life. My dad, my godfather Jules, and one of my best friends, Tonio."

"Charles, I'm so sorry to hear that. How have you been coping?" Rising from the floor, you move closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh.

"Sometimes I find myself spiraling into these depressive episodes where I just want to close off my heart. Because if you close your heart, no new people can enter, only to leave again." He looks away, his eyes welling up with tears. Your expression softens, and he musters a small smile in your direction. He continues, his voice filled with emotion, "I've tried it before, but I realized that it doesn't make anything easier. These days, I just choose to remember them for who they were, their lives, their dreams, and the sacrifices they made for me to be where I am today."

You were taken aback at Charles’ maturity. The mere thought of losing someone dear to your heart was overwhelming, and here he was, having experienced the loss of not just one, but three significant people in his life. You couldn't help but admire him for getting through his hardships and finding happiness in the time he shared with them. Especially since he uses it as motivation to be a better person.

As your conversation continued, you decided to shift to a lighter topic in an attempt to lift Charles' spirits. You shared stories of performing in numerous countries, while Charles recounted his experiences racing in Formula 1 events across the globe. You laughed at how unfamiliar you were with his sport, just as he was with your music.

He asks if you have your phone with you.

"Um, it's somewhere around here," you respond while searching for it. Eventually, you spot it on the kitchen counter. "Why?"

"Just open Apple Music or Spotify, whichever you prefer," he says with a mischievous grin as you sit back down in front of him. You nod and show him that Apple Music is open.

"Now search for my name," he instructs, and you type his name, discovering that he is listed as an 'artist'. There’s no way…

"Charles Leclerc Artist? How are you an artist?" you raise an eyebrow at him and glance back at your phone. You notice that he has released two songs in the past year.

He laughs at your confusion. "Well, Ms. Grammy singer, I also play the piano. I wrote these songs last year and finished them around the time of the Australian GP and the Miami GP, which is why they're named AUS23 and MIA23."

You're shocked, your mouth hanging open dramatically as you listen to the songs. Charles laughs at your reaction. You didn't think he could become any more attractive, and now he surprises you with this. Could he be the incarnation of your dream man?

"That's amazing! I guess I know who to call when I need help with a song," you wink at him, and he chuckles.

"No, no. You're at least 100 times better than me. I don't have as much talent as you do to write lyrics for the music," he praises you.

“Okay, since you know a bit about my art and making a song and all that, I, on the other hand, have no fucking idea about Formula 1. Like, why do you have to travel all around the world and race on different tracks? Is it like some kind of world tour?" You burst into laughter at your own humorous analogy, and Charles, who was as intoxicated as you, finding it amusing as well.

“Do you really want to understand it?” You nod at his question as he sits up straight and stretches his head and hands, “warming up” to explain.

"You see, every race weekend is different. Let’s say you do Plan A for this weekend, sometimes it works, and we get podium. But sometimes despite our best efforts, it doesn’t. So, after the race, we talk about what went right and what went wrong and then we make a new plan for the next race. Do you understand so far?”

You nod at him. Though a slight confusion still lingered in your mind, you couldn't help but be captivated by the passion radiating from his every word. The way his eyes sparkled, and his voice exuded genuine excitement revealed the depth of his love for his job. In that moment, you realized that this wasn't merely a profession to him; it was a true calling, a relentless pursuit of excellence that fueled his spirit.

"I still don’t understand. Maybe being there and watching it firsthand can help me. What do you think?" you playfully suggest, winking at Charles as you extend your legs onto his lap. He responds by grabbing your leg with his left hand and dramatically clutching his heart with his right, feigning a heart attack. "Oh, amour, the thought of you in red."

As your connection deepened, you both began to open up and share parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden. You spoke honestly about your doubts, worries, and the overwhelming thoughts that haunted you when you were alone.

"Can I ask you something?" you inquire, looking up at him.

"Go ahead," he replies, grabbing a chip and taking a bite.

"Have you read about me? Like on the internet, in articles or magazines?"

"I see the headlines, but I don’t really read them, so let's just go with a 'no,'" he says, wiping the salt and dust from his hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I’m sure I already know your answer, but doesn't it bother you sometimes, the things they write about you?" you question, and he nods, encouraging you to continue. "It's just that they always make comments about my personal life, especially with the people I choose to be with."

"Yeah, well, those people's lives are so miserable that they have nothing better to do than try to ruin ours," he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing.

You glance down at your lap, your hands fidgeting as you gather your thoughts, when Charles interrupts, taking your hand. "Hey, I know it sucks, but I think it's something that comes with success. It bothers me too when they do that to me. Look, I won't pretend to fully understand what you're going through because I know I don't."

You look up at him, puzzled. "Do you remember earlier at the party when you arrived before me? When your car pulled up at the restaurant, they went crazy. Now, I've been in front of cameras since I was a kid, and I know a thing or two about paparazzi, but I've never seen fame like yours before. They were taking so many pictures of you that it didn't even look like flashes anymore, it’s like someone had switched on a blinding light for those few seconds you walked from your car to the door."

"I couldn't really see you because of the crowd, but when I heard them shouting your name, it just made sense. Don't tell the engaged couple, but I'm 100% sure you were the best thing at the party. " he winks at you. "But still, that doesn't make it okay. The reason they act like that is because they are taking advantage of your popularity. They think that getting a good picture of you, or a story, out of you or even something they made up, is big money.”

You’ve thought of this before, the way they treat you is different from other celebrities, but you hesitated to bring them up, fearing it would make you appear arrogant. It was a nice change to discuss about your life, popularity and the challenges that come with it, and to be met with Charles' honest and genuine response. You look back at the times you talked about this with a partner, and how they dismissed your concerns, labeling you as ungrateful, overreacting, or even a drama queen. The contrast in reactions causes you to appreciate Charles' maturity, understanding and support.

Despite your seemingly different lives, his centered around sports, yours with music, your personalities and passion for your respective crafts and families made you remarkably similar. With every word exchanged, the infatuation between you grew stronger.

So, at 4 am, while leaning against the balcony of your hotel room, a comfortable silence settled between you.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve never experienced this before.” Charles says softly. “Staying up at this hour and talking about my life and the shit I go through to a girl I’ve only met for 8 hours now. It makes me feel like I want to tell you my whole life. It feels…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“I get what you mean. I never thought we would have a lot in common, especially since from the outside, it looks like we’re living different lives. But it looks like we're not so different after all.”

“Y/N, I know it’s too soon because we’ve only just met but I really want to get to know you better.” He faces you and draws himself closer. His green eyes pierce your Y/E/C eyes, he smiles genuinely at you.

As you gaze at him, your heartbeat quickens. You can’t tell if this is real life because you’re experiencing emotions you’ve never felt before. Here stands a guy who is caring, grounded, and by the way, absolutely gorgeous, and he is genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your thoughts waver back and forth, questioning whether this is okay. Is it cool that I’ve shared everything in my mind with him? Is it chill that he’s in my head?

Your mind and heart go into battle. Think! After all, you've only known this person for eight hours! Eight hours, Y/N! On the other hand, what if this is actually okay? Could this be the story of you meeting "the one"? Or your soulmate?

You tried to find a compromise.

Blushing, you gazed up at him and agreed, “I feel the same way. But can we take it slow? I never like to rush things, especially relationships.”

He nods and hugs you from behind. “Is this alright?”

You hummed and you both stayed there, watching the stars and the beautiful view of Florence.

You didn’t want the night to end, and you couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to him right now. So you tried to make up excuses for him to stay. “But, you know, it’s too dangerous to drive at this hour.”

“Cheri, there is no such as thing as a time that is too dangerous to drive.” He chuckles at your cuteness. “Plus, I’m a Formula One driver, I think I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t because we just finished doing shots like three hours ago! And what if other drunk people are driving around too?”

Charles lightly laughs at your stubbornness. He knows you’re too prideful to just tell him to stay the night, especially after you both agreed to keep things slow. He sees you avoiding his gaze, so he addresses you, “Y/N.”

As you looked up, he smiled at you and gently holds your chin and locking eyes. "Je suis folle de toi.” he uttered.

Confused, you smiled in anticipation, knowing he had likely said something sweet. Seconds later, he translated himself, the proximity between your faces nearly undoing you. "I am crazy about you.”

...

Carefully locating your phone, you closed the bedroom door behind you. Retrieving two water bottles from the mini fridge in the kitchen, you settled on the couch in the living room of your hotel suite, resting your legs on the coffee table.

You check your messages and there were some from Kika, and your management team. Kika texted you and said to meet her for brunch at 11. Though, with a Monegasque driver in your bed, you don’t know when you can leave, so you move on to the other conversations, keeping in mind that you reply to her soon.

Your management team’s group chats were asking where you are and who you were hanging with. You read their earlier messages and saw that there are articles and pictures of you and Charles leaving the party last night. You open your Twitter account and see the two of you are trending. Of course, we are.

You scrolled through the tweets and some fans were happy, some were not, some just... don't have any opinion. And you prefer the latter. Reading the tweets of the fans was one thing, but the way the media and articles talked about you was different. It's like they didn't have respect you.

The articles get to you, Why is there so much scrutiny around my dating life? They called you a serial dater, manipulator, etc., even creating "warnings" about you for Charles; saying you're just gonna break his heart and write a song about him.

You furrow your brow, wondering why they single you out like this and why other women aren't subjected to the same level of scrutiny. It's frustrating because they never say these things about other people, especially men in the industry who engage in similar dating behaviors. Your male friends in the industry can date different people or even cheat and sing about it without raising any eyebrows. But when it comes to you, the accusations fly.

When they accuse you of "jumping" from one relationship to another, they label you a player or claim you cheated. If you choose to casually date without exclusivity, they call you a slut. It never ends. Where do they expect me to stand? When will it all just stop?

You start to question whether the people you want to be with have seen what has been written about you and if your reputation, which may be based on something fake, can affect the real connections you might make. You begin to ponder the significance of it all and how much weight a reputation actually carries.

It's unfair. Your personal life should be yours alone, and people should mind their own business. If this is the price you pay for sharing your music and being famous, you want no part of it anymore. It feels like they don't respect you as a human being.

Hot tears stream down your face as your thoughts consume you, overwhelming you completely. Seeking solace, you sink from the couch to the floor, resting your chin on your knees. It's a familiar position, offering some comfort when you're feeling low. The grounding sensation reminds you that you're still here.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles already woke up and was also reading messages from his team. He was about to greet you when he heard you sniffling. He slowly opens the door and sees you on the ground, knees to your chest, crying. Suddenly, he understands the pain you're going through. He felt awkward. He didn't know whether to comfort you or pretend to go back to bed.

But Charles can't resist the sight of your shattered state. He pushes the door open fully and gazes at you, broken and vulnerable. His heart shatters alongside yours. Slowly, he approaches and sits in front of you, taking in the magnitude of your pain. You're startled, having forgotten he was sleeping in the other room. You wonder if he knows what you're crying about, if he's seen the internet already, but the thought pushed back behind your head when a pair of warm, gentle hands cups your face, thumbs trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong, mon ange?" he asks softly.

"Everything. The things they say about me... they're so mean. They're ruining my name, my reputation..." You manage to utter between sobs.

"Shh.. I know, cheri. But I don't care about what they write, alright? I want to know you. The real you." He comforts you. Running his hand up and down your arm as you find solace in his comforting embrace.

For the next ten minutes, you pour your heart out to him, releasing your pent-up emotions. When Charles senses that you had calmed down, he fetches the water bottle from the table and hands it to you. You finish it in one go.

"Feeling a little better now?" He offers, his considerate nature shining through. You smile and nod, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asks, showing his concern for your well-being. You shake your head for a no.

“Do you feel like going downstairs, or should we order room service?" Going for a walk would be refreshing, and it might help improve your mood, but given that you've just bared your soul to him, you don't feel like going out. More importantly, you remember that you'll encounter numerous people and potentially face unwanted attention when you're seen again with Charles.

"We? You don't have to stay here with me. I feel better already." You face him, pulling away from his embrace. You instantly regret it as you start to feel cold already, missing the warmth of his body against yours.

"And I'm not leaving until you feel your best again. So, restaurant or room service?" He asks again. God, he is even more hot when he's stern... and caring about my well-being, of course.

Considering your current state, you prefer the comfort of staying within the confined space of your room, cuddled up next to him. "Room service, please."

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

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[eddiebun]

puppy love • part two

mini series ; part two, find part one here

pairing ; eddie munson x fem!reader

summary ; lovesick y/n has fallen head over heels, complete infatuation with the scraggly-haired metal head who drops her off at school every morning and takes her home after.

genre ; angst, fluff, smut, smitten!reader has heart eyes for heartbreaker!eddie, !! flashbacks/memories in all italics !!

warning ; this content is 18+ only. explicit sexual content (minors away !! grrr), fingering, oral f receiving, pantie kink? m! masturbation, bullying, petty behaviour, family issues, drugs, consuming alcohol, reader fits into eddie's clothes, panic attacks, insecure reader who pines for eddie who gets bitches and sleeps around. dumb, both reader and eddie are dumb but like does he really not know how reader feels? maybe he’s being cruel.. yeah he’s kinda a dick in this.

wc ; 11.1k strap in

fairy note ; putting all my heart into this, feedback and interactions are greatly appreciated. thanks twice and ive, gg playlist in general for getting me through this long part of puppy love oh my- also this isn't full proofread yet, sorry. i don’t have a taglist but i do have a blog that you can turn notifications on to know when i post a new fic, click here ♡

-

��I guess I could say hi to her..”

You had left the Hellfire Club room behind the theatre class with your shoulders slumped, a quick goodbye paired with an excuse to Eddie. You felt detached and put off, but you had your last class of the day— in about 2 minutes so there was no time for any of those sappy feelings getting in the way.

Turning hallways and skipping a couple of steps up to the floor of your maths class, successfully reaching it on time, and setting yourself down at the desk where you normally reside.

You didn't even notice that Lori was in her usual spot— the desk in front of you, until you heard her joyful giggle, Eddie's proposition to you whirling around in your head like a cruel taunt you just couldn’t shake.

But alas, you had already told your puppy-eyed friend— that you were in love with, that you’d talk to her for him and you didn’t go back on your word.

"thought it would be nice for you to make a new friend too since you're stuck to me."

What did Eddie even mean by that? Sure, you didn’t have many friends and you weren’t even super comfortable around all of Eddie’s friends yet, still taking time to open up with them and yeah, you’d always come running to him when something had happened, good or bad but that’s what friends did and he’d welcome you with open arms no matter rain or shine. It didn’t make sense, why would he suddenly sound so hostile now? Like you were suddenly a burden he wanted to brush off.

You didn’t like this Eddie very much.. your Eddie might’ve been irritatingly oblivious to how flirtatious he was, absolutely blind to your genuine feelings, gestures and purposeful routines that included him but, he was never mean.

You swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat and reached out to tap Lori’s shoulder to get her attention, seeing her turn around and all the previous joy drain from her face, looking like you had just killed her entire family and it took you by surprise but you were used to plenty of two faced people in Hawkin’s High.

“Hi.. sorry.” you spoke up, rubbing your arm out of comfort, “I was just wondering where you got your bag from, it’s really cute.” you weren’t lying but you were exaggerating, under any other circumstances, you would have never had enough confidence to muster up asking any popular kids questions, though it helped that she wasn’t surrounded by her poesy right now.

“Oh..” her face softened up at the flattery, looking down at her bag before back ahead at you, expression a lot more relaxed now, “My daddy got it for me in a department store in the City.”

“Oh, cool, I like it.” you smiled, “Um, you like my friends band right? Corroded Coffin.”

Her eyes went wide and she nervously laughed, shaking her head, “I don’t know what that is.” her eyebrows furrowed and oh boy, she was a terrible liar.

You blinked a couple times, stuck on how to progress anything if she was just going to play pretend, “Well, my friend has this band and he saw you the other night—“ she cut you off, reaching over to squeeze your hand, “That wasn’t me sweetie.” her tone was condescending.

She turned away and you rolled your eyes, oh well, you tried. Maybe Eddie did get mixed up with another girl, not Lori.

“Here’s that department stores name.” She turned back around to hand you over a piece of ripped paper she had scribbled on, ‘talk to me when school ends, go to the restroom, not here xoxo’

When you went to look back up at her you saw she was already facing back towards the front, you were in disbelief but you reminded yourself that people like this weren’t nice and given the opportunity they would rather laugh in your face then hear you out. So of course Lori Fisher wouldn’t dare be caught talking to you in front of her friends, especially not about Eddie Munson out of all people.

You didn’t even know why you were even bothering, you were helping the guy you had been fawning over all year hook up with some preppy girl in your class, it didn’t make sense even to you but Eddie’s harsh words hung heavy on your heart. You had somewhat convinced yourself that this would be a fix, just to keep pleasing him, you had messed up somehow along the way, right? What if you had really upset him? You couldn’t stand the thought of Eddie being upset with you, especially to the point where he didn’t want you around as much anymore.

Once class was dismissed you were gathering your things when you heard Lori announcing to her friends that she had to rush home early today, catching the way she glanced at you before heading off.

You followed behind her a little before the both of you were in the toilets, the rest of the students heading home or out with their friends for the day.

"We can talk here, it's better," she spoke up, looking in the mirror and adjusting the ponytail on top of her head, “So did Munson like.. tell you I was there?” she asked, still looking ahead at the mirror.

You just nodded, unsure of where she was going with this, “You talk to him a lot don’t you? Kinda thought you two were together or something.” she scoffed out a laughter, “But here you are.. asking if I like his band and how Eddie saw me.” she titled her head, tapping her chin as though she was thinking.

“He likes me doesn’t he?”

You honestly had somewhat drifted off into your thoughts somewhere between her speculating, shaking your head back to reality before laughing nervously, “Something like that.” you muttered.

“Interesting..” she cooed and you couldn’t read her expression, what was on her mind.

Yes Lori, the boy you’ve fell head first into love with was interested in her, and here you were like a fool, mind clouded in doubt and worry but you didn’t act, you never did, like a complete coward.

“There’s a party, y’know Chance? Big muscled guy on the basketball team? Well, he’s holding one tonight, you wouldn’t be a doll and ask if Eddie could come? It’s like bring your own alcohol but he could bring drugs instead, that would work.” she nodded eagerly at her suggestion, scribbling down an address and shoving it into your hand.

Lori wanted you to be the messenger and invite Eddie to some High School party? You didn’t even get a chance to question her, watching her gasp once she checked the time.

“Gotta go! See ya, okay?” she grinned before rushing out of the toilets.

You glanced down at the address written on the paper before stuffing it into your pocket and walking out of the school building, Eddie would be there waiting in his car to drop you both back off home.

“Jesus H Christ!” he jolted, sitting in the drivers seat with rolling papers between his fingers and his little lunchbox full of drugs on his lap— which nearly went flying when you startled him with your sudden presence.

You plopped yourself down in the passenger seat and laughed under your breath, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” you looked over at him and he relaxed, shaking his head,

“No, you’re good, don’t worry.” he chuckled, putting away any drug paraphernalia and starting the car, “Y’wanna come over and listen to some new songs I learned? Picked up ice cream for us too.” he told you proudly but you hesitated.

“Really?” you asked which he laughed at, “Yeah? Why’re you saying that?” he asked, confused since the both of you always hung out you never double checked with him, you’d normally jump at the offer or suggest plans first.

“Nothing m’ just checking.” you shrugged it off, his words still ringing in your head but if he said it was okay then you believed him.

He patted your thigh and kept it resting there after starting the car and pulling it out of the school parking lot, headed out the gates and home. Once Eddie has pulled up outside the trailer you followed him in, feeling the warmth of his palm still burning at your thigh.

The both of you got comfortable in his room, Wayne out on his night shift so Eddie didn't hold back in giving you a couple personal performances with his guitar whilst you say back against his headboard, watching his fingers swipe skilfully plucking and striking the strings of his beloved instrument.

“You learnt all of those songs over the week?” you leaned up, blinking up at him in surprise, “Mhm? Not to brag or anything but i’m pretty good right?” he jokingly winked before setting aside the instrument on the stand and joining you on his bed.

“So.. you’ve been looking like something’s been on your mind since you got in the car and you barely even touched the ice cream I bought for us.” he pointed out, reaching over and squeezing your hand in your lap, big brown eyes watching you.

You laughed quietly, an awkward attempt to quell any nerves at his apprehensive questioning, "Nothing serious." you shook your head, shrugging it off dismissively but of course, Eddie only gravitated further towards you, head leaning to the side knowingly and the feeling of his thumb swiping along the back of your hand had a nervous lump building in your throat.

You didn't have to tell him, right? If you just said something like, Lori wasn't that interested, kinda mean, you wouldn't even be lying.

Ultimately you decided against that, opting to just tell him and see what he made of the situation, you didn't take Eddie for desperate so you somewhat had hopes that he would deny any sort of party invite from her.

"Well.. Lori, we talked a little but not in front of everyone, she didn't wanna do that," you glanced up at him, seeing him listening intently, "So yeah, we talked and she basically asked me to invite you to one of the basketball players parties tonight." you explained, prying out the crumbled up paper with his address on.

You watched the way Eddie's eyebrows furrowed as he uncrumpled the paper and read the address, a disgruntled expression on his face, "She invited me?" he peeked back up at you.

"Mhm, talked about bringing your own alcohol or drugs too," you shrugged before a sigh left your lips and you laid back against the bed, "you're not going right?" you asked him, looking up at the ceiling.

It was silent, uncomfortably long silence, peeking your head up and resting up on your elbows as you studied his expression, "Eddie." you called out.

"I could check it out.” you watched him shrug and your eyes went wide, mouth dropped open a little.

“You wanna party with people that bully you?” you questioned him, watching him roll his eyes in annoyance— like you hadn’t made a completely fair point.

“She invited us Y/N, I don’t see why she’d do that if she was like the others.” he tried to reason but it only made you more frustrated.

“Okay, let’s say she isn’t like that, that she’s a total sweetheart who has this little risky crush on you,” you cooed out in a forcibly sweet tone, “that means her friends are still assholes, whether she’s nice to you or not, she’s putting you in a room full of people that despise us just for breathing— oh and she didn’t invite us, Eddie, she invited you.”

Eddie clearly didn’t like that response because he glared at you like you had just said the most heinous thing, “You’re being dramatic,” he combed his fingers through his hair, a habit he had when he was stressed, “I said I’d check it out! Besides, I’m not a baby, I can stick up for myself.” he scoffed.

“Why?” you asked, completely baffled, “Is it that worth it?” you spoke quietly but it was audible enough for Eddie to hear, his eyes still boring into you.

His expression had turned somewhat sour when he spoke up again, “Ohh, I get it, this is because I told you it would be nice if you made a new friend too?” he laughed as though he had it figured out.

You stared at him, blinking a couple times before standing up, you weren’t going to do this, bicker with Eddie whilst he speculated and turned this on you.

“Oh so it is?” he stood up, “It isn’t even that big of a deal! I didn’t say it maliciously.” he shook his head but you weren’t even listening to him, grabbing your bag and stepping into your shoes.

“Shut up, I’m against it because I told you, those people aren’t nice people Eddie— besides! she doesn’t even like me so to hell with any ideas of friendship!” you raised your voice.

“No! You’re just overthinking it and making it into this big fucking thing like this will end the world or something I mean come on Y/N! Grow up!” he grabbed the bag you were holding to make you stop for a moment and listen to him.

“I’m looking out for you!” you poked your finger into his chest, glaring up at him and your breathing had gotten heavier, the whole situation working you up.

“Oh my! My hero, saving me from big bad Lori and her asshole friends like I totally don’t deal with that on the daily, seriously loosen the fuck up.” he scoffed and you felt your heart pang in your chest, why was he making you out to be so evil?

“Whatever, have fun— prove me wrong, I don’t care anymore.” you laughed weakly, grabbing your bag out of his grasp and storming out of the trailer.

The whole thing had you stunned, feeling like you couldn’t even breathe properly and like your whole world was collapsing on you. You had never yelled at each other like that and Eddie normally heard you out but this time he had been so mean and stubborn, all over something that— in your eyes — was going to backfire massively for the both of you.

You got home and kicked off your shoes, falling face first into the couch in the living room, “Bad day?” you heard your Mom speak up, peeking her head out from the kitchen. She walked over when she heard muffled sniffling against the pillow.

You spent a little while like that, shedding tears onto the pillow whilst your Mom stayed beside you, only raising your head to wipe at your swollen eyes, “Eddie, he’s not being very fair.” you croaked out, voice unstable.

“Hmm? How so my love?” your Mom questioned, watching you sit up properly and she grabbed a couple tissues, handing them over.

“He asked me to talk to someone he’s interested in b-but I tried to tell him I don’t think it’s a good idea because they're not nice and neither are their friends and he got all defensive.” you sniffled out in between hiccups, “You know I like him but.. it’s not even that, I care for him before anything!” you enthused.

“I know, I know..” she frowned, sighing at the situation you had explained, “Well, I know it might not be pleasant to think about but let him carry on, do what he wants to and he’ll soon come crawling back apologizing once he realizes, I’m sure he’s just being headstrong.” she shook her head, “He cares about you too, he’s just making poor decisions he has to learn from himself, there’s only so much fixing you can do Y/N.”

You knew your Mom meant well and she was being rational but you could but anything but that, you just couldn't shake the horrid feeling— probably because you were head over heels in love with him. With your heart pounding in your chest anxiously and your mind conjuring up the worst scenarios your friendship would end in, you had to distract yourself before you got yourself further worked up over the boy.

Your Mom even offered to stay home from work instead of heading to her night shift so you could both watch movies, but you refused, feeling like it would have been too much of a burden on her.

Now, with the night approaching 9 PM already and your Mom out of the trailer, and the one you loved most was off trying his best to, how you saw it, replace you, you turned to the kitchen and reached up to a top shelf, plucking a bottle of wine out and cracking the cap open to fill a glass.

It was stupid, everything felt so stupid and maybe yes, you were a little dramatic but Eddie was your everything, he had taught you so much about yourself, his presence alone had made you feel so comforted, and he genuinely listened. You had never felt like your problems were real enough until Eddie assured you that it's okay and it's not selfish to be upset, to complain, and to want to scream at the top of your lungs sometimes and he had promised he'd be there, to cheer you on, to lend a shoulder to cry on or to distract you from any hurt you were going through, he never wanted you to go through that again, he told you that you wouldn't have to.

So maybe that's why this hurt even more.

"Hey, freak, that your girlfriend?" one of the basketball players, Alex, called out mockingly, just wanting to provoke him, "she sure looks the part, wonder if she's as freaky in the bedroom as she looks."

Eddie lost his cool, his arm around you dropping from your shoulder as he turned back around and got up in Alex's face despite your protesting and tugging at his arm, "Don't fucking talk about her like that alright man? What is your problem—"

He got whacked in the face, fist flying at his cheek, feeling him knock back into you, Alex fleeing as soon as he caught sight of a teacher, fled like a coward, not that Eddie would've probably jumped on him back, he didn't scrap, that wasn't like him but he didn't just stand there all the time letting people walk all over him— especially not you.

"Oh my god, Eddie are you okay?!" you screeched out after catching a breath from stumbling back with Eddie, your hand still squeezing at his arm.

You went back to him with his trailer that day-- skipping your lessons just for him, full-on nurse mode even though it was only a busted lip, insisting that he should just rest and you'd look after him, "Y/N, it's not that bad," he shook his head dismissively, eyes blinking down at you as you kneeled in between his legs, holding a damp towel to his lip, "starting to think you just like me or something." he'd jest playfully.

"Shut up stupid, why are you saying that?" you whined, probably poutier looking than you should've been, for an obvious joke.

"You just wanna take care of me and love up on me all day." he'd coo playfully and you felt your hands get clammy despite holding the icy cold towel.

"You've gone crazy Eddie Munson, sure you didn't hit your head too?"

You felt like you had only blinked and a matter of hours had passed, sitting on the floor with your knees against your chest and you had opted to drink straight from the bottle instead of your glass now, "Stupid.. Stupid, dumb, gorgeous Eddie Munson," you grumbled drunkenly to yourself, "I mean really? What do I not have? I-I want him so bad." you slurred out, banging your head back against the mattress on your bed.

You didn't even hear the soft knocking on your window until it grew louder and you finally thought you had lost it, hearing things and becoming paranoid.

"Y/N!" you heard a muffled voice and whipped your head around in the direction of the window, eyes going wide when you saw Eddie. You pushed yourself up but were very unsteady on your feet, getting to the window with the help of grabbing everything around you for stability.

Pushing the window open, you were swaying back and forth a little and squinting at him in your drunken haze, "What?" you bleated, seeing Eddie already push himself into your room, "No, nu uh, Eddie, get out." you complained, but he was already in your room.

"Drunk? Why're you drunk?" he questioned, noticing your incessant hiccups, and slurred words, and the empty bottle laid on the ground. He grabbed your hand and sat you down on the bed, watching the way your lips downturned into a pout, quietening up suddenly.

"Why're you here.. the party." you mumbled, glancing down at your hands in your lap, his hand still grasping gently at your wrist.

"Y/N it's 1 AM, besides, I didn't wanna stay long, needed to see you." he shook his head, waving his hand like he didn't want to talk about it.

In truth, as soon as Eddie walked through the door and greeted Lori, it was clear as the night grew, what her intentions were from the start.

At first, Lori was pleasant, cute even and she buttered Eddie up with endless compliments and questions about his band she saw at the diner that night, to Eddie she seemed sweet, and yeah, her friends all gave him the nastiest of looks and snide comments but they didn't seem to interfere too much and Lori didn't give it any thought either, to him it was just nice that she was joining in with the cruel remarks.

“Did you bring that stuff?” she squeezed his arm, sweet smile making her eyes crease, “Oh, um yeah but we don’t have to do anything.” Eddie hesitated but pulled out the little baggies of weed and assortments of pills from his pocket, hearing her gasp, “Ooh fun!” she winked.

“You don’t mind? I can make it up to you later.” she leaned in, pecking his cheek and swiping the various tiny plastic bags from his hand.

He didn’t exactly have a say in it, he was stupid but not that stupid, he knew saying no, suddenly going all cold and storming out the party flooded with football and basketball players, with his ‘fun’ he’d just displayed to her, wasn’t going to work and she knew that too. Lori always got what she wanted, with a sweet over-exaggerated smile and forcibly high tone.

"Y’know, you’re like.. not as weird as I thought you'd be, kinda cute." a drunken Lori cooed, eyes big as they looked up at him, "That Y/N though, I mean even though you're out of my league, shit she's like the bottom of the barrel-kinda out of your league!" she burst out into laughter.

His face scrunched up in disbelief, he didn’t care about the drugs anymore, how much money he would lose or how Lori had just used him— probably just to impress her friends. No, this was unbelievable, this was bullshit and downright cruel.

He pushed Lori a couple steps away from himself and shook his head, “Are you serious?” he grimaced, “You think that’s actually funny saying that disgusting shit about her?” he scoffed.

“Oh c’mon, lighten up!” she groaned, eyes rolling which only got Eddie more frustrated.

“You’re fucking fake, how can you be so proud and walk around like that confidently? It’s ugly and I hope it bites you in the ass, fuck you.” he watched the way Lori’s face scrunched up in disgust at his words.

“Oh fuck you, like you have any room to talk, get the fuck out freak!” she suddenly yelled, jabbing her finger into his chest and Eddie didn’t say another word, wanting nothing more than to get away from her and her disgusting mouth.

“Fucking bitch..” he scoffed under his breath, luckily stepping out of the door before anyone caught on to the situation and jumped him.

He felt bad, like a scolded puppy dog when he rolled up to Y/N’s trailer, knocking on her window and ready to be I told you so'd but if he didn’t he knew she would’ve avoided him the whole weekend, would’ve probably even walked to school on Monday too and he just couldn’t have that.

“You’re ruining my night,” you hiccupped, “well actually you already ruined it but now it’s doubly ruined.” you breathed out shakily and Eddie sighed, nodding knowingly.

“I know and—“ you glared at him and he stuttered his words, jumbling them up nervously, “I was too harsh and I should’ve heard you out instead of freaking out on you, whether I went or not I shouldn’t have treated you like that, at all!” he squeezed your hand in his to bring his point home.

“You’re mean.” he watched your eyes drop back into his lap and suddenly heard a weak sniffle. Eddie gulped back a nervous lump in his throat, feeling his heart pang in his chest, he had really fucked up.

“Oh no.. Y/N,” he spoke out softly— cautiously not to make you further upset, “I’m sorry angel, I'm really, really sorry.” he frowned, leaning in closer but you just recoiled.

“No, please stop that.” you shuffled away, crawling to the end of the bed and curling up, “Stop calling me that a-and touching me like that, my head, it messes with my head and my heart hurts.” you whined, feeling like you couldn’t catch your breath.

“Y/N I don’t know what you mean if you don’t talk to me..” he pleaded with his eyes, giving you your space since he didn’t want to overwhelm you, “I know I messed up, I can only prove to you it won’t happen again, I cherish us so much you have no idea-“

“No! You have no idea!” you snapped, sitting up and he could see your whole body tremble with every drawn-out breath you took.

“You’re so sweet and caring and then you step all over me like everyone else! Getting me to do this and that because you know that I will because you know I like you.” you were just spewing words at this point, “It’s not fair, none of this is fair, and—“ you found yourself letting out another sob, “I don’t like this, I don’t like it anymore, hurts too bad. I do everything I can but it’s not enough for you to look at me like I want you to.” you squeezed your arm nervously, feeling loose tears drip down your cheeks and your head felt so heavy.

“So please just go, leave— don’t want any pity or apologizes, just stupid puppy love, a dumb crush, it’ll pass.” you whimpered out brokenly, mostly saying that to ease yourself but you knew how pathetic you looked saying this was nothing more than a dumb crush when here you are bawling your eyes out like this and confessing in front of him after some wine? It was pitiful.

It was silent for a little while and you had buried your head into your arms, rocking yourself back and forth comfortingly. You heard shuffling around before feeling Eddie tugging you into his embrace which rumbled another sob past your lips, reaching out to grip his shirt in upset and frustration, “Why..” you whispered out, “Why can’t you just leave?” your voice was hoarse and scratchy from your stuffy nose and glassy eyes but his hold on you didn’t let up.

“I can’t..” he shook his head, voice hushed, “It might be selfish but I just can’t, I don’t want to.” he frowned, tilting your chin up and wiping away the dried tears on your cheek. Eddie breathed out, gently pushing your head back against his chest and rocking the both of you gently, “I know that you’re tired of hearing it but I’m so sorry.. for making you confused, hurt, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.” he squeezed you.

“I guess my words, actions came off strong but..” he closed his eyes, squeezing them together, “that’s not a bad thing.” your eyebrows furrowed at that, ready to pull away and curse at him properly this time but he continued speaking, “I mean.. things are confusing but I like it- I mean, I like us, y’know..” he was awkward, scratching behind his head nervously.

He notices you shake your head and he anxiously laughed, “Can we talk about this in the morning? You’ve been drinking and crying, you need some sleep.” he kissed the top of your head and you melted, almost forgetting everything that had previously gone down tonight.

“I don’t deserve it but hear me out, please?” he looked down at you, big twinkly brown eyes and you felt your heart break for what was probably the hundredth time, nodding in compliance.

“We’ll talk and we won’t leave the room until everything is off our chests and good, okay?” he cupped your face and you couldn’t do anything but nod once again, completely drained— not be able to muster up any more complaining or tears.

Eddie smiled, giving you one more squeeze in his warm embrace before he pulled away, to your dismay, almost audibly whining at the lack of his warmth and comfort.

“Can you stay at least.. I know I said leave but it’s okay.” you spoke quietly, eyes avoiding his as you crawled up your bed and under your covers, “Want me to tuck you in?” he asked, watching you nod with your eyes peeking out from under the sheet.

He walked over, taking the corners of the duvet and making sure it was snugly tucked against you your frame, grabbing one of your plushies and even placing it under the covers beside your head.

Eddie grinned, pleased at his work before walking over to grab the blanket and cushion on the chair in the corner of your room. He tugged off his vest and kicked off his shoes before laying himself down on the floor, head resting on the little pillow and pink blanket draped over himself, “G’night angel.” you heard him softly call out.

Your eyes closed and the next time you opened them was when you felt the sun spilling in through a crack in your closed curtains, grumbling nonsense and burying your head further into the pillow in protest of the sun.

You heard Eddie’s hoarse voice as he groaned out, “Morning..” he said in between a yawn, sitting up and pressing his hand against his lower back, aching from the hard floor beneath him all night.

“I grabbed you some water.” he spoke up, pointing towards the glass beside your bedside table and you didn’t hesitate in gulping down the liquid relief, you had a dull headache, it could’ve been way worse considering drinking and crying all night but you got rather lucky.

“Can I come up?” he asked from the floor and you tried not to smile, shuffling to sit up against the headboard properly, “Mhm.”

Eddie crawled onto the bed and relaxed against the soft mattress and sheets that smelt like you, “Sleep okay?” he asked quietly and you nodded, knowing he was just trying to process all of last night.

“Can we talk about what happened?” he looked over at you at the top of the bed, “If you want to of course.” he added.

“Yeah, I want to.” you bit your bottom lip in between your teeth, anxiously biting at the skin, “I’m sorry, I know I overreacted, blabbering around about a crush and stuff, was really stupid and I was just being over emotional like— you shouldn’t of listened to anything I said.” you laughed nervously, fiddling with loose threads on your sheets.

Eddie frowned, aware you were only trying to cover yourself, probably embarrassed but that’s not what he wanted to hear, the last thing he wanted to hear was you taking any of it back.

In truth Eddie had spent the most of the night on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and playing countless scenarios and made up conversations in his head of how to tell you he liked you, he wanted to give it a chance but he was just scared to commit, make anything official. His mind was racing, wondering how he could keep someone so dear to his heart like you, how to make you happy, how to make you know you’re loved— of course he knew he fulfilled that as a friend but in a relationship? that was completely different and so much more intense and he was terrified to screw that up, what if he broke your heart for real or you broke his? He couldn’t cope with that.

“No, no, it’s okay.” he smiled, reassuringly reaching out and grabbing one of your hands, fiddling with your fingers, “Even though you were mad at me, it's understandable.” he laughed quietly, shaking his head before continuing, “I just feel like we should really talk about it, I don’t wanna upset you anymore and I need to make sure you’re okay and that we're on the same page.” he looked you dead in the eye but you couldn’t hold his gaze, too embarrassed still by last nights messy drunken confessing.

You were fearing the worst, rejection— you'd be told that in simple words, you weren't what Eddie wanted, he'd never be able to see you that way, you basically braced for impact.

Your lips pursed together and you took a deep breath in and out from your nose before lifting your head, eyes wandering aimlessly around the room to try and muster up any courage you could, eventually just blurting it out under your breath, "I do.. I do like you, more than a friend,"

You didn't hear him say anything and your eyes were now fixed back onto your lap, breathing picking up nervously, "And I'm sorry, I've been probably coming off way too pushy and overbearing, clingy, annoying— everything." you laughed out bitterly through a trembled breath, your whole chest feeling like it was tightening up in fear of the worst, "But genuinely that's not the reason I ended up being worried about Lori- I won't go into it, you know how I feel." you muttered, not wanting to speak on Lori and upset Eddie if he had a good night with her at the party, even if he came back to you after.

"Y/N," Eddie called out but you kept your head down, 'oh god here it comes' that little voice in your head spoke, the one that never rooted for you, "Look at me? Please." his head titled, wanting to meet your eyes.

You hesitated but eventually subdued the big wave of unease making you feel defeated already, your eyes looking back up and catching his and he noticed how your lips downturned and your eyes were a little swollen from crying last night, crying because of him.

"Can you give me a chance?" you heard him ask, hesitant and he even looked nervous himself which oddly put you at ease a little, you shook your head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "I mean like, we can try it, us, together." he swayed his hands between the both of you to emphasize what he was trying to say.

Eddie was asking to take your friendship further, a relationship.

You blinked a couple times, almost forgetting to breathe before you came back around, and a small laugh came out, honestly in pure disbelief, "Like.. Like boyfriend, girlfriend kinda thing?" you pointed to yourself and then Eddie.

Eddie nervously laughed, scratching behind his head and nodding, "Mhm, something like that would be great."

"You really like me or you're just saying this?" you asked, scepticism dripping in your tone, as much as you liked Eddie you wouldn't let yourself get played around if he wasn't going to show the same energy as you back.

"No- I mean, yes, god, yes I really mean it and no I would never fool you about like that, I respect you Y/N, and last night, you deserved so much better than how I acted." he reached out, squeezing your hands in his and you relaxed, watching him and listening intently, "Uhh, I mean last night was just so dumb.. and I should've listened and I've had you doubting yourself since I got you chasing around Lori for me and I hate that I did that, I'm sorry, I'm a fucking asshole." he squeezed your hands, tight and you heard him scoff, frustrated with himself.

"So, you don't like Lori? I mean.. it's nothing like a serious crush or whatever?" you studied him, wanting to read his expression, you noticed he did seem genuinely worked up at how things went.

"I don't like Lori, I was just chasing after something that seemed like a fun risky idea but it wasn't real, none of it or the people are. It's stupid." he shook his head, looking like he was in his head for a moment and you wanted to question him, wondering what happened last night but he spoke up again,

"But I have the real thing, right here, right in front of me, waiting for the longest time and I've been too foolish to act on it because I'm a coward in all honesty," he threw his head back with a sigh, "scared I'll mess it up, that you'll end up hating me and we'll be left as nothing, I can't lose you." he looked back ahead and he was frowning, he looked uneasy.

"We can take it day by day, it doesn't have to be all at once and nothing has to drastically change like we're getting married tomorrow or something." you laughed, happy when you saw Eddie's lips upturn into a smile.

“So you don’t wanna marry me?” he gasped dramatically, clutching his heart and frowning to which you giggled at, nudging his arm, “Y/N Munson.. hmm doesn’t sound as cool as my name but I still like it.” he further teased before shuffling himself closer to you.

“Day by day, yeah?” he spoke quietly now he was closer and you could smell that strawberry conditioner you had left over in his bathroom, mixed with cigarette smoke lingering on his clothes.

You nodded and felt his hand come up to cup your cheek, leaning in and pressing his lips to the top of your head as his arms moved down to clasp around your waist securely, your back hitting the bed as you felt his weight on top of you and his face resting at your neck.

You breathed him in, hand reaching up to comb through any knots in his hair, you cuddled like this before but now your heart was calm and Eddie had just asked to be your boyfriend.

“You know I really am sorry about yesterday right? I’m not just saying that. I’ll do better.” he spoke against your neck and you nodded gently, fingers untangling one of his curly strands.

“Mhm, I know,” you spoke quietly, feeling like anything else would hinder the comforting atmosphere you both needed to be surrounded in.

“Hey..” he spoke quietly, head leaning up and chin resting against your shoulder as he blinked up at you, “You’re so pretty.” he winked and you felt your face get warm from the compliment, eyelashes fluttering as you glanced at him before anywhere else in the room to settle your heart that was pounding right underneath where his head was resting.

The two of you didn’t leave bed till evening aside from going to pee or grab snacks here and there, the both of you just spent the whole Saturday in each other's embrace, talking about anything that was on your minds.

With it being Saturday it meant no school tomorrow either and the both of you could laze around in each other arms- Eddie even suggested you both skipped Monday in favor of going out on a date and you were almost tempted but you knew your Mom would find out.

So the first date moved to Sunday, tomorrow.

You picked out something cute, the colors matching you perfectly and you thought Eddie would appreciate that too, paired with those shoes Eddie helped you pick out, it was the perfect date outfit.

Stepping out of the trailer you saw Eddie already waiting, leaned up against the car and holding a bunch of flowers, grinning ear to ear already as you approached him, taking in his outfit, he had black denim pants on but this time they weren’t distressed, still fitted him nicely and he kept the belt on, on his upper half he had a white printed t-shirt on with a black opened button down on top and he looked great, showed off his arms that were decorated in tattoos, that you adored so much on him and you didn’t miss the long necklace he wore hanging from his neck, making you feel a little light-headed from how attractive he looked.

“You look so cute, ah Y/N, you'll break my heart." he dramatically gasped, taking in every single little detail you had put into your outfit before noticing your eyes lingering on him, "I know, I know I look ridiculous, this whole date thing is kinda new to me too.” he laughed, handing you the flowers, “Picked those up in record time, only nearly jumping like two red lights?” he chuckled.

You knew Eddie liked to fool around but it was true, he didn’t go on many dates or fully invest time into finding someone to fall for but you didn’t question it and if anything his nerves made you feel better about your own.

“So! Bowling and then ice cream parlor?” he double-checked with you, watching you nod excitedly at the plans, “Follow me, m’lady.” he cooed playfully, opening the passenger door and letting you hop in before he rushed around to the driver's side and started up the car.

You were so happy and the date hadn’t even really begun yet, you just knew you could do anything with Eddie and feel so warm and content inside, it was a feeling you cherished more than anything.

Your first date was everything you had hoped for and more, it wasn’t any different than any other time you had fun plans together- and that’s exactly how you wanted it, it proved that nothing would change, you were both comfortable around each other still, no high expectations that everything would happen all at once, way too fast— yes, a few shy giggles here and there when Eddie said something extremely cheesy but it was all perfect.

You were finishing up — not really, the both of you would spend the night with each other — the date at the local ice cream parlour, Eddie asking for both of your favourite flavours whilst you sat down in a booth, swinging your feet in absolute blissful joy, you did it, Eddie was yours, this was really happening and you weren’t just daydreaming.

You snapped out of your gleeful thoughts when you saw Eddie in front of you, holding the two cups of ice cream, “Uh uh.” he complained when you reached out for yours, cooing at the cute little frown on your face, “Obligatory boyfriend deed, I gotta feed you this ice cream babe.” he snickered and you rolled your eyes at his antics, not missing the way your heart clenched at the new pet name. Feeling him poking the wooden ice cream spoon at your lips, you obliged, tasting the creamy delicious treat, humming in approval at the taste before plucking the spoon out of his fingers and scooping some up for him to try now.

"Mmh.." he hummed, pondering over the taste like some expert, "Too sweet, so I guess it's perfect for you." he smirks, your nose scrunching as you shook your head and grabbed the small ice cream cup from him.

It was about 8 PM when the both of you headed on back to the trailer park, opting to follow Eddie back to his room this time, hearing him playfully coo about how he had been surrounded by your evil little plushies and menacingly tidy room all weekend.

You sighed and rolled your shoulders back once you were in Eddie's room, happy to be in the comfort of just each other and 4 walls again, you flinched when you felt a shirt come flying at your face, scowling at him when you dragged it away from your head.

It was his Hellfire shirt and you looked at him, confused— sure, he let you stay over before, in his shirt and some shorts, but never his Hellfire shirt.. and no pants.

"Put it on dummy, it'll look cute." he cooed like it was obvious, as you stood there, staring down at the infamous shirt.

"Okay, well turn around pervert." you jokingly glared at him and he obliged, turning around with his hands up.

You kicked off your date clothes and pulled the Hellfire shirt over your head, turning around when you were decent, "Mmh'okay." you nodded, still seeing him facing the wall and you laughed, "You can look, dummy."

When he turned around, his eyes went wide, taking in one of his fantasies he had thought and admittedly had countless wet dreams about, and oh god, it was better in real life. Eddie had to clear his throat to get himself composed, "Yeah— uhm.. wow," he chuckled, hand combing through his hair, "you look really fucking cute, c'mere.." he sighed, sitting himself down at the edge of his bed, legs spread wide open.

His reaction had your hands clammy, digging your nails into your palms and biting on the inside of your lip, gradually stepping over the thrown-about clothes and cigarette packets on the floor until you were standing between his legs.

"You okay?" he asked, head tilted to the side and accessing your demeanor, the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.

You nodded, giving him a shy smile before you took a hold of his hand, pressing small, delicate kisses to the back of it which had his heart fluttering in bliss, "You're so gorgeous." he pulled you closer with his hand in yours.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your heart stopped, breath hitching when you looked at his eyes to find him already staring up at you with the sweetest little hopeful expression on his soft features.

"Mh, yes— please." you stuttered out, embarrassed by how flustered you sounded which only made him grin wider, pulling you smoothly onto his lap.

His hands came up and cupped your cheeks delicately, scared touching you too suddenly would startle you away like a baby deer but he relaxed when you nestled your cheek further against the warmth of his palm, one of your hands even coming up to reassuringly squeeze his arm.

"Cute." he mouthed, barely audible as you watched the way his eyes fluttered close, following suit and in no time you felt his soft plump lips molding with yours as if it was completely natural, like you had done this a million times before but you hadn't and your heart proved that, racing and pounding out of your chest like crazy. You got kind of self-conscious that you were just sitting there stunned, so you let yourself relax as best as you can, enjoying the sensation of the soft, slow, and purposeful movement of his lips on yours, it felt like paradise, better than any daydreaming you could've conjured up in your head.

When he pulled away a little he noticed the way your eyebrows furrowed, displeased from his withdrawal, chasing his lips and initiating the kissing this time, gaining some confidence which only spurred him on more.

You could've spent hours like this, attached to him, with your legs either side of his lap, your hands gripping his arms and your lips meshed with his, hearing delicious sighs leave his mouth.

"Keep going.." you spoke, breathy and feverish.

His eyes were lidded once they opened again to look at you properly, one of his hands at your hips, squeezing subtly, "Are you sure?" he spoke faintly under his breath, watching you nod and feeling your fingers drag through his hair encouragingly, "I like it, I really like it." you whispered, lips claiming his once more.

You felt greedy, swallowing up every piece of affection he gave you but you couldn't help it, he was making you giddy, your intense yearning having felt like it had led up to this.

"Mmh.." you whimpered under a broken breath, feeling him trail his velvety lips down towards your jawline, your eyes squeezing shut in concentration, not wanting to make any further embarrassing noises- didn't wanna disturb his wandering kisses.

"Can I touch you more?" he muffled in between pecking and leaving open-mouthed kisses that were trailing towards your neck.

"Please.. a-ah, please do." you ignored the way your whole body was burning up, gripping his shaggy hair in between your fingers and tilting your neck to the side.

Next, you felt his hands lifting up his shirt you were wearing and you couldn't help the whine that slipped from your lips, he was so very warm, hands laying rest on your bare waist, rubbing soft circles on the skin with his thumb as his kisses strayed more and more from innocent, feeling his tongue flick against a certain part of your neck that had you jolting in his lap.

Eddie thought you were the closest thing he could get to any sort of heaven, the cute little mewls you let out, the way he could feel the goosebumps under his fingertips, and oh god, you smelt so good he thought he would've gone crazed.

But, he kept his composure, wouldn't let himself do anything that wasn't complete concentration, and care for you, even if his jeans felt tight, denim fabric biting at his skin, he just wanted to draw every little pleasant sound and quiver out of you.

"More, more please." you hushed out against the top of his head and he was so overjoyed, you were being so vocal and every little please had him suppressing the urge to drop everything then and there and completely indulge, no, he wouldn't do that, he had all the time in the world and this was just the start.

You felt your hips lifting a little and you fluttered your eyes open, feeling reassured once you felt your back hit his bed and Eddie leaning over you, leaning in and dragging his thumb along your bottom lip, “You’re so beautiful, all mine now hmm? Never letting you outta my sight.” he smirked, tongue poking out of his mouth.

“This okay?” he asked, moving your legs open so he could kneel in between them and you felt the cold air biting at your bare skin, the thought of being so close to him, only your white undies and his Hellfire shirt preserving you from being completely exposed.

“Mhm, it’s okay.” you breathed out, hands taking a hold of his and squeezing, you would’ve told him by now that this was all okay, that he didn’t need to keep asking but you just found it so sweet and endearing, wanting to keep giving him sweet affirmations.

Once he was settled in between your legs he had leaned further down and your arms found place comfortingly around his shoulders, pressing delicate kisses into his neck before he tilted your chin up to catch your attention, “We can go slow, nothing all at once,” he assured you, licking his swollen-kissed lips, “can I play with you tonight? i’ll make you feel so amazing.” he promised and you felt the way his fingertips danced along your outer thigh enticingly.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat, your eyes wide but soft, looking at him with so much trust, you nodded, leaning back in against his neck, “I’d love that Eddie.” you faintly spoke.

Eddie was smug, enjoying every little second with his full attention span on you, mind clouded with only you so when he watched your hands find purchase at the bottom of his Hellfire shirt you were wearing, his breath hitched, your stomach and white panties coming in to view and you were so much more than a dream in your boyfriend's eyes.

“This okay? M-maybe we can leave the shirt mostly on for today if that’s okay?” you asked hesitantly but watched him nod.

“Whatever you want baby, it’s okay.” he placed soft kisses at your lips, fingers soothing along your stomach and watching the way you quivered in surprise, “Tickles.” you giggled, legs kicking a little and he grinned, cute, he thought.

“Sorry.” he scrunched his nose up adorably before repositioning himself until his head was above where it felt warm the most and you took a deep unsteady breath, “Ah, sorry.. you just look really good down there.” you blurted out, hearing Eddie chuckle as his hands found purchase at your thighs, softly pressing his thumb into the skin whilst he started littering open mouth, wet kisses on the other.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to slow down or stop, m’kay?” he mumbled against your skin, more like a demand than a question though he briefly glanced up at you to see you nod in agreement.

You were squirming a little already underneath his wet hot mouth, his hand coming up to rest at your lower abdomen to ease you and it helped but oh gosh did it make things feel ten times more intense.

“It’s okay, I got you, baby, I got you.” he kissed upward your thigh before leaning up a little and tucking his fingers under either side of your panties, pulling them down and embarrassingly you clenched your thighs together when you felt a string of wetness attached to the fabric.

“Sorry.” you bit at your lip before relaxing, his soft milk chocolate eyes easing you.

“Shh, i’m about to eat you out and you’re apologizing for being turned on by it?” he chuckles before ducking his head against your thigh, “You’re so cute.” he hummed.

“Can’t help it..” you complained, hearing him hum again, in acknowledgment.

“Let me take care of it princess.” he spoke gently, voice dripping with desire and you would’ve curled up into a ball and screamed at how attractive he was if he wasn’t in between your legs right now.

You relaxed again and let him throw your underwear over his shoulder, laying forgotten about amongst many other thinks in his room. You didn’t even get a chance to think because you felt his thumb swipe against your sensitive clit, legs trembling under him and you heard him giggle.

Eddie Munson was going to be the death of you.

His kisses got closer and closer to where you needed him most and it had your voice strained, desperate, hearing your sweet whimpers pick up in your throat, just cooing tauntingly at you.

But when he finally licked up from your slit to your bundle of nerves you could’ve cried right then and there, his tongue flattened against you, and this time your hands flew into his hair, grasping desperately, “O-oh— nghh, Eddie.” you gasped out.

He glanced up at you through lidded eyes and you couldn’t hold his gaze for too long, the way his tongue was licking up into you and twisting and flicking around you had your eyes rolling back and it hadn’t even been that long, the sight was pure filth, the most delicious and intoxicating kind.

Eddie could spend all day like this, in between your shaky thighs, tongue lapping up everything your delicious cunt gave him like he was a starved man, but he just wanted you to feel your best and he wanted you to know he was the one doing that for you, making you tick, squeal and shake with just a few movements of his tongue.

Eddie had you feeling completely euphoric, his hands manoeuvring your thighs up onto his shoulders, squeezing and gently pinching the soft skin.

His tongue got messier and messier and he shook his head in between your thighs, lips wrapped around your clit and suckling, exaggerating every little lewd sound his tongue made against you and it had you feeling in felicity, countless broken hiccups, moans, and chants of his name falling from your lips, drool seeping past the corner of your mouth.

“Think I’m— uh! Eddie— oh my god, close, m’ so close.” you shrilled out and Eddie didn’t take a breath, keeping his tongue and lips attached sloppily to your clit as he bought his hand up, fingertip swiping a mixture of your juices and his salvia up and down your slit before slowing pushing a finger in inch by inch.

You could feel the tip of his nose pressing against your skin as he attentively licked and suck at your clit, his finger alone being enough to feel like you could burst any second, and when he added a second, curling them up against that mushy spot inside you, you sobbed out, thighs squeezing your his head and back arching off the bed.

“Ah! Eddie, nghh! c-cumming.” you gasped out breathlessly, feeling the way his tongue lapped you up until you got too sore and sensitive, whining at the discomfort.

You breathed out, chest rising and falling as you laid there with your thighs trembling as Eddie pushed up, off of your burning heat and pressing soft and gentle kisses to your neck to which you giggled at, finding the gesture sweet.

“That was so fucking hot, you have no idea.” he rasped against your neck and you looked down at him through tired eyes, leaning in and pressing your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Eddie laid there with you, noticing all the days— and nights excitement had caught up on you quick and your eyes were closing and your head nestling at his chest for comfort. He stayed, kissing the top of your head and letting you rest for the night since you both had classes in the morning.

Though, that didn’t bother Eddie himself and he had a rather— big, problem to sort, to himself, in the bathroom.

Slipping out of the bed careful as to not disturb you, remembering he had thrown your panties to the floor so he didn't miss an opportunity to pick them back up on the way to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself, sitting himself down after pushing his pants and briefs halfway down his thighs, cock still burning red and the prettiest pearl of precum at his flushed tip as he wrapped one leg of your panties in between his fingers and the other around his cock.

His hand was heavy and sluggish, taking a strong grip at the base of himself and stroking as he leaned back, your moans and the sweet taste of you bouncing around in his head and at the tip of his tongue, which helped greatly with getting himself off, plus the feeling of the fabric brushing up against his cock was doing wonders.

If you would’ve seen him like that you would’ve dropped to your knees, absolutely folded in front of him, he looked gorgeous with his loose hair strands sticking to his face and his blissed-out glassy eyes desperate for some relief.

“A-ah— Y/N, oh baby.” he hissed through his teeth as his stroking picked up and he would’ve thought it to be a little embarrassing feeling so quick to blow his load already but seeing you like that had his mind all jumbled and cock begging to be touched, till he was drained.

He lost it, desperately bucking his hips up into his hand and strips of pearly white cum landing all over his stomach, the pretty sticky substances dripping down his tummy.

Eddie cursed out as he caught his breath, grabbing a towel and cleaning himself up, kicking off his pants, and opting for just a clean pair of briefs, stuffing your panties into his underwear draw.

Once his situation had been sorted he wandered back towards the bed, happy to see you still off in dreamland peacefully and he didn’t waste any time in joining you, pulling you against him until your back was flush with his chest, kissing upwards along your arm until he landed a firm kiss to your cheek, “G’night sweetheart.”

You woke up the next morning when you heard ruffling around, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and watching Eddie pushing up his pants as he kicked his foot around the floor to find his keys, picking them up and stuffing them in his pocket.

"Eddie." you called out, voice laced with sleep and his head whipped round, eyes softening at the sight of you awake,

"Hi, sweetheart," he cooed before laughing-- nervously, "don't wanna alarm you but we might have like— hmm, 10 minutes to get to first class?"

You jumped up, "Eddie!" you yelled this time, tone not so soft as you rushed around to pick up something, anything decent enough to wear, throwing on one of his shirts and your skirt you picked out for the date last night.

"M' sorry, god, you just looked so cute and peaceful, it would've been cruel to wake you but I was going to.. eventually." he winced, rubbing his arm.

"It's okay, let's just go hmm?" you reassured him, not wanting to waste any more time just to get scolded by Mr. Thomas in the early morning.

You both hastily rushed out of the door, jumping in the passenger seat and groaning at your frazzled appearance in the mirror, "Ew." you grumbled and Eddie frowned,

"Don't say that about my girlfriend." he scolded playfully, squeezing your thigh before pulling out of the trailer park and going the usual direction to school.

Memories of your date and more risky activities had flooded back to your mind, knowing you would've been away with the fairy's daydreaming about it all day it class and you were kind of excited.

This feeling was so new, yeah you've liked Eddie for a long time but you never had him like this. It felt like you had gotten swept off your feet, dancing on clouds and starring in your very own romance movie, everything was so serene.

When you got pulled out of your thoughts, seeing Hawkin's High in front of you, of course, it was a bummer but turning to see Eddie with a sweet grin on his face, leaning in for a kiss you reciprocated, made everything worth it, you got to do everything and anything ten times over with who your heart had been longing for.

"Have a good first-class okay angel? I'll see you at lunch, maybe even sneak by your class at second period." he smirked, watching you playfully roll your eyes as you hopped out of the car and gave him a sweet wave as you parted ways.

Luckily you were on time despite Eddie's shenanigans and also first class normally didn't drag on for too long, which was good because you weren't fond of Maths— wait, you had Maths first and Lori would be there, like usual.

You didn't even think about that until you were walking up the stairs to the classroom but you just breathed, relaxing and chanting reassuring words in your head, you didn't have to be a messenger anymore, besides they didn't even know anything and they probably wouldn't find out unless they actually cared to do some digging.

You walked with your head down until you got to your table, settling yourself on the uncomfortable chairs and grabbing out any supplies you needed.

But it wasn't that easy, never was.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N!" you heard her grating voice, violating your eardrums but you forced a smile, nodding her way.

"You should've come to that party the other night, your friend is crazy." she cackled, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, she was adamantly against talking to you in public, and now all this?

"He's a little weird y'know, sensitive too," she rolled her eyes before continuing, "but it's all good fun-"

"Lori, it's okay, I don't need to know." you cut her off, watching any previous emotion drain from her face, hearing a scoffed laughter.

"Well!" she huffed, "I just thought you would've like to know what he said." she dramatically flung her hands up defensively, "Sorry for trying to help a girlfriend out." she murmered.

"What? What are you even talking about.." you sighed, Lori's energy and back and forth draining you already.

"Oh no.. it's a lot, I don't wanna upset you— I just, y'know, we gotta look out for each other, some of these guys are heartless." she jutted her bottom lip out, looking genuinely worried which made your stomach churn.

"What did he say Lori? you're scaring me." you spoke quietly.

"We were just talking, about school, graduating, and friends and I let him open up, he seemed like he needed to talk so I let him but, it got weird," she sighed, clutching her hand to her chest, "He told me he couldn't see any of his friends in his future, that they were all just hopeless and pathetic, that they'd be stuck in Hawkins forever." she shook her head, recalling the event, "So I bought you up," she shrugged, "because I thought the both of you were close but he just started complaining, going on this wacky rant about how insufferable, clingy and dependent you are on him- I mean isn't that crazy?!" she gasped, "Who says that about their best friend? What a dick! I even decided to kick him out of the party eventually, sending his ass home not even a little past midnight." she snickered before softening her expression once again.

She reached out, grabbing a hold of your hand and squeezing, "I know what it's like to be pushed aside and stepped all over, treated like shit for doing everything you can, it's awful, I'm so sorry." she frowned.

You ripped your hands from Lori's, abruptly storming away from your desk, chair knocking over in the midst of it all. You just needed to go, get away, anywhere but here, this building, these people.

Your stomach bubbled with anxiety and you felt like you couldn't breathe, eyes stinging with tears as you stumbled towards the bathroom in a complete panic.

Why would he do this..

#fairy fics 🤍 #puppy love 🤍 #eddie munson #eddie #stranger things #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Pregnant Reader - Part 4

Cravings (For Food, For Melissa)

Thank you to everyone who has liked and commented and reblogged this series so far (and an extra thank you to those of you who have even asked for more!)

What started out as a one shot has now turned into a little 5 part series. I'm not entirely sure when I'll manage to finish part 5, but I'll get there! (And to those of you who left prompts - I will also get there with them!)

Anyway, enough rambling - links to the previous parts of this little mini series below and part 4 under the cut. :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You smile as Melissa puts your lunch bag down on the table in front of you, chuckling as promptly turns her chair around to face the opposite way before sitting down.  It wasn’t the first time.  At home there had been a number of occasions when the combinations you had been craving had made her want to vomit.

Barb, sat at the table with you both, watches with interest.  “Did you two argue?”

“Nope,” replies Melissa.  “I just don’t wanna see this.”

The other woman continues to watch as you open up your lunch, lifting the lids on the various containers within and starting to create your cravings masterpiece. 

“That…puts my cravings to shame,” admits the kindergarten teacher.  “That…”

“Is an abomination to all that is edible,” finishes the red head.

You just smile as you take a bite of your creation.  Admittedly, your smile is aimed more at the fact that as disgusting as Melissa finds it, she’s the one who packed your lunch that day, albeit packing the components separately.  She loves you, but putting those ingredients together is something she just won’t do for anyone. 

*

“You are gonna love me!” grins Melissa as she closes the front door behind her. 

“I already do!” you call through from the sofa where you’re trying to get comfortable. 

“I got ‘em!” she grins as she appears in the doorway, waving the bag of chips at you.  Propped on her hip she also holds an almost overflowing grocery bag.  “I got ‘em all!”

“I do love you,” you manage through the tears that threaten to steal your words.  You had been unable to settle, finally getting out of bed some time around 2am.  It had been the opening of closing of every cupboard in the kitchen that roused a sleepy Melissa around an hour later.

Half asleep she had wrapped herself around you, her front pressed to your back, eventually cajoling you into admitting what you were looking for.  Barely a few minutes later she had donned her jacket and had her car keys in hand.

“Melissa no, you can’t go out at this time.”

She had merely smirked.  “Either I try and get these or we both you you’ll be pacing the floors all night and I won’t be able to sleep either.”  With a peck to your cheek, she was gone. 

But now she was back, dropping down onto the sofa next to you.  You smile as she tucks herself into your side, kissing the top of her head.  “How many stores did you have to go to to find them?”

She shrugs.  “A few.”

You shake your head, knowing that a few probably meant every store that was open within a five mile radius.  “You know I would have survived without them, right?”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be happy without them,” she says, reaching to open the bag of chips.  She pops one in her mouth, screwing up her face at the flavour.  “And you can have all of them.”

You chuckle.  “Sure you don’t want another one?”

“Wouldn’t wanna deprive you and that little Tesoro you’re carrying,” she replies, her head coming to rest on your shoulder as her arm snakes around and comes to rest protectively across your bump.

It melts your heart every time she calls the baby by a fond little nickname, and she has plenty of them.  The closer to the time of her arrival it gets, the more Melissa seems to do it, and you’re quite sure she’s unaware she’s doing it. 

Feeling Melissa leaning more heavily against you, you twist your head to catch a look at her face.  Eyes closed and mouth slightly open, she’s already in a deep sleep.  With a smile, you reach and manage to catch the edge of the blanket that had been draped over the arm of the couch.  Tucking it around the two of you, you try and crunch as quietly as you can as you continue to tuck into the fruits of Melissa’s midnight cravings snack run. 

*

You’re aware of what you’re doing, almost painfully so.  And you also know that Melissa has to have noticed it to.  Neither of you would be considered the cuddliest of people, but you’re more tactile with each other than you are with anyone else.  At this point, the touches exchanged between you are almost second nature, a hand on your back here, playing with the ends of Melissa’s flaming hair as she sits close, her hand resting on your thigh if you’re sat next to her.  It’s never anything too obvious, but subtle and reassuring. 

Or at least, it had been reassuring until you started to feel the effects of certain hormones.  You had read that there was a possibility that during certain phases of your pregnancy when you might feel more horny than you normally would.  You’d shrugged it off.  So you might feel a little more turned on than usual, nothing you couldn’t handle.

What you hadn’t been prepared for was being horny all the time.  Every little touch felt like it burned.  The friction of your own pants could be enough to drive you to distraction.  It was absurd.  Humiliating.  Especially when you had never felt less attractive in your life.

You felt huge and gross and swollen and sore.  You try to tell yourself that the way Melissa looks at you has not changed, but when you look in the mirror, it’s difficult.  You look like an inflated version of yourself.  Your curves feel grossly emphasised by the ever growing life inside of you.  It doesn’t help that nothing feels like it fits.  Or at least, none of your usual go to outfits.  No, anything you wear now comes from the maternity section and makes you feel fat and frumpy. 

It's that feeling that has you shying away from Melissa’s touches, finding reasons to keep your distance.  You hate it.  Miss her even when you’re laying right next to her.  In bed one night, you feel her press a kiss to the back of your clothed shoulder where you lay facing away from her.

“You want anything before I turn the light off?”

The way you shrug away from her doesn’t go unnoticed, and as you turn to answer her question you clearly see the hurt on her face before she manages to hide it.  She forces a smile and shifts away from you.  This time, however, rather than letting her, you reach out and catch her arm. 

With no small effort, you sit up, turning to face her.  “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, the false smile never leaving her lips. 

“’Lissa,” you sigh.  “I know you’ve noticed.  And I’m sorry.  It’s not because I don’t want you to touch me, it’s because I feel…I feel like I’m on fire!  Every little touch sets me ablaze and I feel like I’m going to explode!”  You take a deep breath, stilling your gesturing hands.  “I want it so bad, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.  Like this is all hormones and you’re just scrathing an itch.  But I also don’t want to want to like I do because I feel a mess.  A huge, swollen, sore, gross, sweaty mess.” 

You’re not sure when the tears started but by the end of your little tirade your breath is coming in hiccupping gulps and you’re sniffling as tears stream down your face.  You don’t fight when Melissa tugs you to her side, accepting the handkerchief she holds out in front of you.

“You know I still find you beautiful, right?” she asks.

Your response is a snort.  A very ugly, wet snort.  “I’m a snotty, snivelling mess,” you grumble. 

She shakes her head, shifting so you can see her face.  “No, you’re beautiful and I love you.”  She leans in to kiss you.  It’s soft and it’s gentle until suddenly its not.  She leaves you breathless, your hands clutching her shirt.  “Still feel like you’re on fire?”

“All the damn time,” you hiss. 

She kisses you again but can feel your hesitation.  You’re holding back, and she knows it. Twisting to face you, she leans her forehead against your own.  “Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”

You hesitate still, trembling with need.  Pulling back, you look into those green eyes you love so much.  See the fire there.  See the love.  “Please,” you whisper, whimpering when she presses her lips to yours once more. 

You felt you should have known she’d make you feel amazing.  And not just physically.  She’s constantly checking in, reassuring you.  Somehow, she knows that tonight, you need her close.  That you need the comfort of her lips on your own, to be able to see everything she feels written plainly on her face.  It takes a little bit of figuring out, finding new ways that work, experimenting with new angles, all the while she delights in how much more sensitive you are.  You take your own delight in the still being able to please her, revelling in each sound that pours from her lips, in every hitch of her breath, of how she clings to you as she comes undone. 

For the first time in weeks, as you lie together afterwards, you feel settled.  With Melissa pressed against your back, her hand resting against your bump you are sated and settled, as is she, and the life growing within you.  “I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you before.”

She nuzzles against the back of your neck.  “You talked to me tonight.”

You cover her hand with your own, lacing your fingers together.  “But I should have talked to you before, not pushed you away.  That wasn’t fair on you.  You’ve had to deal with all my other cravings, now you have to deal with my cravings for you too.”

You feel her smirk against your skin as she chuckles.  “I watched you put lime jello in a salad the other day, believe me, this craving is way easier to handle than some of the things I’ve watched you eat recently.”

#melissa x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Two

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 5145

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ Blog; talk of drug use (no actual using), absent parents, mention of food and alcohol, slow burn, brown fuzzy coat, self doubt, break-up mention, annoyance towards actors, cursing, 2nd POV, that should be it but if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: It’s here!! I’m really excited for this chapter, lots of little things I love about that I’m so excited for you to read. This chapter is where we meet reader and learn a little bit about her. I wanted to also note, there will be an eventual nickname used, we just haven’t gotten to it being used yet so for now I’m not mentioning it. The response to this series has been so amazing and I’m so grateful for all the wonderful feedback!! Another big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for taking the time to beta for me!! You’re a champ for putting up with my spelling errors. Update: adding link to mug that is mentioned -> etsy shop

Series Masterlist / Sweet Creature Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“Diem, you can’t really be considering this?! Did you forget, he was literally doing drugs off of your toilet!” 

You pour another glass of a sweet sparkling wine you’d picked up before heading to Diem’s for your weekly chat session, then settling back into the array of plush couch cushions— a night to decompress a bit, vent and just catch up on the week’s happenings. 

“Well, I’ve already considered and told him yes.”

“What?” You nearly spit your drink out in shock. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I kind of called it when you invited him to Wren’s party. I just— I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“Look, I know you’re just being protective, and I’m so grateful for that, I truly am— but you have to just let me make this decision and trust that he’s going to be clean like he says he is. This is his longest stay in treatment, that’s got to be a good sign, right?” 

The one thing you loved most about Diem was her big heart and her constant need to mother everyone around her. 

She had literally taken you under her wing when you’d decided to uproot your entire life and move to a random city you had zero ties to. 

A chance meeting in the halls of your new employer, Ojai Valley School, while rounding the corner and bumping into each other. Your stack of lesson plans scattering about the concrete floor and her basket of snacks toppling over— a dozen or so clementine oranges rolling around the haphazard mess of papers. 

In sorting out each other’s disarray, you’d learned she was a parent of a kindergartener, to which you shared being the new first grade teacher. 

Somewhere in the midst of an over abundance of apologies for the mishap and swapping mini life stories on the walk together to your classroom, her daughter’s class coincidentally next door, there was an exchanging of phone numbers and a no pressure invitation for drinks and appetizers at her place— she dubbed it as a proper ‘welcome to the neighborhood.’ 

A week later you found yourself in Diem’s living room bonding over similar interests with wooden platters of too expensive crackers, hard to pronounce cheeses, thinly sliced deli meats paired with quickly mixed and shaken cocktails over ice. 

She shared her struggles being a single mom who was embarking on a new business adventure all while co-parenting with her ex-boyfriend. You learned her family didn’t live close, parents usually traveling through some part of the world or staying in one of their many extravagant vacation homes, while her brother was some big name movie star— Dieter Bravo, whom you’d seen plastered on the covers of gossip magazines. 

There was an instant friendship between the two of you that flourished as the months went on— a sisterly bond you’d never had being an only child. 

Weekly chats developed into spending not only more time with Diem, but with Wren as well. Dinners and movie nights became a regular thing, rotating hosting duties while Wren always had the final say in the movie. You shared your love for art with them as much as you could, making sure to invite them both when a new artist had their latest installment showing at one of the many galleries in town, Wren always so captivated with your interpretations of the art on display, encouraging her to seek out her own. If Diem ever found herself in a pinch with the hotel, you were more than excited to spend more time with Wren, especially on the warmer days where you both could take advantage of the pool and soak up the California sun. 

You felt like an instant local and less of a transplant after a few months, building your own connections with merchants and finding your own niche outside of teaching within Ojai— you were a welcomed presence. 

“I’m sorry Diem, I just have flashbacks to seeing him slumped over on the bathroom floor, high out of his mind— That look on your face ate me up inside.” You sigh at the recollection of your first meeting of her brother Dieter, all disheveled and extremely inebriated. Diem had cried on your shoulder for hours after everyone had left the party, but you did your best to comfort her as time went on. “I’ll be here for you if you need anything.”

She reaches over to you and gives you a hug, reassurance that she appreciates you always having her back. 

“Thank you. I promise, any little inkling of something being off and he’s out. Just try to be a little nice to him, give him a chance to prove himself. He said he’ll be here in a few weeks and I’d love for you two to get a proper meeting, so let me know what your schedule is looking like.”

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” You playfully roll your eyes at her, but you would really try to be as open as you could be, especially for her and Wren. 

“Okay, enough about me and my stuff. What’s new with you?? Any hot dates??”

Your dating life was near nonexistent. Yeah, you dated, but that was as far as things went. 

Your last relationship had ended in a breakup before your move. Both of you wanting different things, you wanting him to move with you and him wanting to stay rooted, while also refusing to try the long distance thing, deciding a clean break was best for the both of you. 

“Ugh. I went on one the other day. One of the teachers cornered me in the break room and insisted on setting me up with her neighbor.”

“And?”

“And, it was a disaster. He was late to the restaurant and then he was excusing himself every fifteen minutes to go to the bar to watch some sport’s playoffs. He also ordered for me off the kid’s menu, said he thought the restaurant was overpriced— he picked it mind you. Safe to say there was nothing ‘hot’ about the date. I literally give up. I’ll live the rest of my life alone— maybe I should get a cat or two.”

Your body slinks back amusingly into the couch cushions. 

“Oh my god. Stop!” She swats jokingly at your limp arm. “You’re so dramatic. Firstly, don’t accept any dates from colleagues— those are always bound to be disastrous! Secondly, you won’t be alone forever. You just have to open yourself up to the possibility of something just happening organically— like fate! Thirdly— no cats! Wren’s allergic and I can’t deal with that mess of meltdowns from her wanting one of her own.”

“Why do you always have to be my voice of reason?!”

“Because that’s what friends are for… Babe!”

“I hate you!” You’re both in a fit of giggles as you toss a pillow across the couch at her. 

“Oh! I do have some good news though! The gallery said they’re holding one last artist showcase before closing the doors and they offered it to me.”

Reverie Studio, a cute little art gallery and workshop space, had become a sanctuary for your creative imagination to live freely. They offered classes throughout the year to varying types of artists, novice to well seasoned, in their workshop space in the back of the gallery. 

The gallery itself was spacious and washed in white, perfect for featuring painted canvases, framed photographs or ceramic sculptures. Giant bright windows facing Main Street, allowed for ample viewing for visitors. 

You’d taken a few classes as a way to submerse yourself into the community, hoping to build some connections with like minded individuals. At one point you’d noticed the bulletin board that held a plethora of business cards, class schedules and other various information about town happenings, had a help wanted flier for the studio itself looking for someone to teach a few classes. You, being a teacher already, as well as an artist, decided to seek out more information. They hired you on the spot and allowed you to decide what classes you wanted to offer. 

The latest flier was informing that the owners decided they would be closing their doors soon. If you had the means, you would have put an offer on the business to keep it open, unfortunately with your salary as a teacher it wouldn’t be feasible. While you were sad you’d be losing Reverie, you were grateful they considered your art to be shown as their last installment. 

“What?! That is amazing! Finally people can see the amazing things you paint— I’ve been dreaming of this moment for you!! Also, I told you my brother’s an artist right?”

“Like, ‘I’m an actor, art is my passion’ while having zero idea how watercolor works…” Air quotes adding emphasis to your mockery.

“I thought you said you were going to be on your best behavior?” She tosses a pillow right back at you, nearly knocking over your empty glass in the process. 

“Sorry, I had to get it out.” Thankfully she could sense your campy tone. 

“I’m going to head out, there’s a stack of papers calling my name that I need to grade.” You state, grabbing your purse and making your way to the front door. “I’ll see you at drop off.” Throwing her a wave as you walk down the path leading to the main sidewalk. 

“Oh! Before I forget, Wren asked if she could come paint sometime. Told her I’d run it by you first and see if there was any space for her.” 

“Of course— Anytime!”

“Perfect. We'll chat more about it later then. Text me when you get home!” Diem leaning into the door frame, practically shouting as you cross the street, knowing you live a less than five minute walk down the block. 

“Oh! And I want to have you over for dinner when Dieter gets here!!”

“Goodnight Diem!” Throwing a lax wave back at her. 

*

Dieter can’t remember a time he’d slept so well. Could be the comfortable pillow top mattress, or it could be due to the fact this is the most relaxed he’s felt in years. 

There’s clanking coming from what he can only assume is the kitchen, followed by the strong aroma of fresh brewed coffee. Diem is awake, still the early bird that she’s always been. 

He begins to extricate himself from the cushy bed, swinging his legs over the edge, his body following suit into a somewhat hunched over sitting position. His fingers pick at the tiny sleep crystals embedded in the corners of his eyes, a few blinks to adjust to the light, his sight still a bit blurry. 

An audible lazy yawn works its way through his mouth, sleep still ruminating within him for the time being. He reaches over to the side table to grab his black framed glasses, a few swipes over the lens glass with the crumpled top sheet before he’s lifting them to the window for a quick smudge inspection— passable and now snug to his face. 

He convinces his body to rise to his full height, joints and muscles adjusting to their proper positions after several hours of a sedentary vacation. A quick roll of the neck and overhead arm stretches ramp up his alertness. 

Stepping over yesterday’s clothes still plopped in the middle of the floor, he digs through his bags in search of something to cover his boxer clad body with the intent to make the trek through the house to a cup of rich amber heaven. 

The air has a slight chill to it, not an uncommon occurrence being tucked in a valley on a California morning. He pulls on his favorite lounge pants, dark stripes pair with a thin cottony fabric worn in from years of wearing— a security blanket of sorts. Throwing his giant fuzzy overcoat over a wrinkled shirt while taking a few deep breaths, schooling his trepidation and the fact that a new life awaits him on the other side of the door. 

*

Sure enough, Diem is busy moving about the kitchen. A mom through and through multitasking her way through the morning— coffee made with mugs set out, breakfast of eggs and toast plated waiting to be eaten,  and a million other little tasks that seem to keep her attention focused. 

“I can’t believe you still have that damn coat, I beg you don’t wear it in public.”

“Good morning to you too!” That first sentence a bit gravelly as he looks down to inspect the coat Diem had just insulted. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“It makes you look— a little tacky and less ‘I’ve finally got my life together.’” He shakes his head at her remark, deciding he’ll leave out the part that it’s just a house coat these days. 

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good. Best sleep I’ve had in awhile. Gonna need to know where I can get one of those beds for home.” Grabbing one of the mugs and pouring himself a decent amount of coffee, then positioning himself onto one of the barstools in front of his awaiting breakfast. 

“That would be a “we’re so proud of you, here’s a bed” gift from mom and dad.” He can sense her somewhat sore tone as she wipes up the counters. 

“You hear from them lately?” 

“Aside from the gifts they send regularly for Wren and a few emails updating on their whereabouts, they seem to be living up to the absentee status quite well.” 

He doesn’t expect the weight of her response to hit him so fiercely, knowing his own presence had been equally lacking as well. 

“I’m sorry.” It seems like the only adequate answer. 

“For what? It’s not your fault our parent’s decision to be unavailable the majority of our lives. I mean, I love them and I know they love us, but they sure have a weird way of showing it.”

“Yeah— well, I can’t say my track record has been any better over the years.” He wishes he could omit the guilt, but acknowledging and accepting his own absence seems like a more appropriate approach to mending the past. 

“Hey, no! I’m not trying to project any of my thoughts onto you.” Her movements halted, giving her full attention to the conversation. “You made an effort, regardless of your— your situation through the years, you still made time for us. We see them maybe twice if we’re lucky. Sometimes they surprise Wren with a FaceTime call, probably so she doesn’t forget what they look like.”

His fork scrapes through his runny eggs, taking his anger out on them seems like a better alternative to a seething phone call to his parents. He’s not sure they’d even answer if he did call. Communication between him and them was tenuous, having sent them a few emails while in rehab, their only response was “That’s great. We love you!”

“Plus, you’re here now. Look at it as a second chance to make up for lost time.” 

Before he’s able to give much thought to the prospect of a second chance, the trotting of tiny footsteps is heard coming from the hall. 

“Uncle Dude!!! You’re here, you’re here!” Wren’s tiny little body launched into his chest as he tried to squat down to her level. 

Uncle Dude. When Wren was younger, she had trouble with his name when her vocabulary started to expand, certain letter patterns fairing more difficult than others. Dieter joked around with the idea of her calling him ‘The Dude’, The Big Lebowski being one of his comfort films. Diem tried everything in her powers to make it not happen, but it only took an entire weekend of Dieter coaching the then 3 year old and Uncle Dude came to be. 

“Hey Birdie! Gosh, you’ve gotten so big!”

“I know, mama said I hafta eat all my vegetables ‘cause they will make me grow and grow and grow.” She wraps her little arms around his neck, squeezing him tight before pulling back and fully inspecting him. “You brought teddy jacket wiff you!!” Her little hands running through the brown sherpa fabric of his coat, which she claimed felt like a teddy bear— Teddy Jacket. 

“Brought it just for you.” He shoots a sarcastic smile over to Diem, who is doing her best to not make her eye rolling obvious, then plants a kiss to Wren’s tiny forehead.

“Okay Miss Wren, you’ve got to eat breakfast and get dressed for school.” Diem pulling out the mom voice, making both him and Wren exchange a brief scrunched expression. 

Wren climbs the legs of the barstool and settles into its seat. “But I wanna stay wiff Uncle Dude! He always gets me donuts for breakfast!” Her little voice floats through the air and wraps itself around his heart, clenching over how much he’s missed her. 

“Uncle Dude is actually taking you to school today, so you’ll have plenty of time before school to hang out. And we can do donuts a different time, eat your eggs then go get yourself dressed.” 

“Are you gonna be here when I get home too?!” Looking at Dieter with pleading eyes. 

“Heck yeah! I’ll be here for a while!” Dieter leans in close enough so only Wren can hear. “If you hurry up, we can get donuts before school, our secret!”

“YAY!!!” 

Diem looks over her shoulder at the two of them, an eyebrow cocked at Wren’s abrupt excitement, then looking at Dieter and only getting an innocent shoulder shrug from him. 

“I’m going to head out then if you’ve got this under control.” Dieter nods in agreement, finishing off the remainder of his coffee. “Perfect! I already left a message with the school you’d be dropping her off. No need to worry about picking her up, she has a wellness check with her doctor, so I’ll take her to that before we head home.” Diem scurrying around, grabbing items from different areas of the room and tossing into her oversized tote, before giving a kiss to Wren and quick hug to Dieter. “I’ll see you both later. Love you, bye!!” The door shutting quickly behind her. 

There’s a beat of silence as Wren and Dieter exchange looks, as if they know what each other is thinking. 

“DONUTS!!” Both announce in unison, high fives and uncoordinated movements as they both flail about. 

“Alright Birdie, let’s get dressed and go!”

“Let’s go!!”

*

As promised, donuts were a designated stop on the way to school. Wren’s excitement was written all over her face as she peered through the bakery case deliberating on her choice. Dieter missed this, moments spent with her as she explored the world around her. Thinking back to his conversation with Diem, this instance is proof second chances exist. 

“Thanks Uncle Dude for the donut!” He glances back at Wren in the rear view mirror, buckled securely into her booster seat, flakes of pink donut frosting smeared around her mouth, curls slightly bouncing as she bobs her head to the music she requested as Dieter buckled her in. 

“No problem Birdie. Here, why don’t you wipe your face— hide the evidence.” He hands her a napkin, hoping she can manage on her own— she seems to do a good enough job of it. 

“Donuts make me happy.” 

“They do, do they?”

“Yeah! They make me smile. Mama says being a movie star makes you happy.”

“She did?” 

“Yep! Does it?”

He thinks it does, or it used to at least. There was a time when the love he had for acting was limitless— he would eat, sleep and breathe acting. Getting sought after roles, memorizing pages worth of lines, stepping into character the instant the director said action. Acting filled a void in him that had been vacant for years. 

“It used to make me really happy.”

“But it doesn’t anymore?” 

“I don’t know, still trying to figure that out.”

“Mama says your heart knows when it’s happy, so just listen to your heart Uncle Dude!”

“I’ll do that, thanks Birdie.”

*

Most of your school mornings ran the same way. You tend to wake before your alarm ever has a chance to alert you, you’ve made such a habit of it you’re not sure why you bother setting one. You read somewhere about how cold showers at the start of the day help wake your mind, could be total bullshit but for some reason you believe it works— they’re the longest 2 minutes of your day. Being a private school teacher, the attire on school grounds tends to lean more conservative than your ‘normal life uniform’ of sundresses, distressed jeans and comfy band tees, but it makes for a quick selection of dark slacks and a comfortable top. 

The coffee machine has already run through its cycle by the time shoes are on and your school tote is securely placed on your shoulder. Grabbing your favorite coffee mug that reads “Let It Gogh”, a gift from a student last year, you fill it with an adequate amount of coffee and a splash of cream before you're out the door. 

The local bakery is your only stop before work, offering a good selection of breakfast sandwiches, bagels, and an enticing selection of donuts— you may or may not add one to your order of an egg and cheese sandwich some mornings. 

You tend to breeze through your class preparation before the bells ring for the start of school. 

The day's lesson plan already looked over, worksheets separated and ready for the students, and the whiteboard cleaned and daily tasks written out— you find it helps deter your students from having to ask “what are we doing today?” more than necessary. 

There’s usually a good 30 minutes of quiet before the first student arrives, and if there’s no need for you elsewhere on campus, you take the time to read your latest book you picked up from Bart’s Books and hope you can get through a good amount of it the short time you have. 

Like clockwork, your students trickle in with their ‘good mornings’ and vibrant stories about their world. 

Some parents opt for a quick ‘drop and go’, while others linger a bit in the back of the class until you’re ushering them out when the bell rings. You enjoy the parent interaction. It’s usually spent answering homework questions or sharing upcoming events happening in the class, with the occasional non-school related discussions when Diem swings by with Wren— you both getting caught up in some story that is not really relevant to anything school related. 

There’s a quick flash of a familiar little face, Wren placing her purple backpack on its assigned hook, then running back to where you’re standing at your desk. 

“My Uncle Dude brought me today!”

“Your Uncle Dude?” Diem hadn’t mentioned not being able to bring Wren this morning, and you’ve never heard of this “Dude” person before. 

“Yeah! He’s a movie star!!” Her little frame is buzzing with excitement, not able to stand still as she bounces on the balls of her feet. Before you’re able to question her further, she zips off towards her table, waving to someone over your shoulder. “Byyyyye Uncle Dude!!! See you later!!” 

You’d been so wrapped up in your brief conversation with Wren, you hadn’t noticed the man standing at the door to your classroom. 

He doesn’t seem to notice you staring as he leans against the door, watching Wren getting herself situated with her fellow classmates. 

Dieter Bravo. Or at least you think it is. No it definitely is.

The images of your first encounter with him flood your mind. You’re not really sure what you expected when Diem said he was clean and sober now, but you definitely didn’t expect to find him attractive on any level. 

He looks healthy and like he might actually sleep regularly, his eyes seemingly less sunken in from what you can see with his glasses perched perfectly on his face. His hair slightly shorter and still a little bit of a mess but purposefully, it seems to suit him though. 

Your eyes roam a bit further down, noticing he seemed to have traded his disheveled clothes for a more put together yet laid back style. A white t-shirt under a black blazer that seems far too formal for school drop off and a snug pair of dark wash jeans. 

You shouldn’t be ogling him like this, but your brain is having a hard time controlling itself. 

“Hello?”

You must have zoned out pretty hard because you didn’t realize he was standing so close now, and attempting to get your attention. 

“Oh— H-hi! Sorry, I was lost in thought there for a second.” You can feel your face heating up, trying to get your thoughts together. 

“Hi, I’m Wren’s teacher—“

“I’m Dieter, Wren’s Uncle—“

You both attempt to introduce yourselves, speaking at the same time, hands knocking into each other awkwardly before properly situating for a shake. 

Heat begins to rise in your body, you’re completely flustered by his subdued energy and the way he’s looking at you with his soft brown eyes. 

“Sorry— you first, please.” 

“I’m Dieter, Wren’s Uncle. Diem asked if I could drop her off, said she already had it called into the front office.” 

“Yes— yes! Sorry, I must have not looked over my notes thoroughly this morning and missed that message.”

“I like your mug.” Pointing to your Van Gogh mug you forgot you were holding, he laughs as he reads the message on the front. 

As if you didn’t know what was already on it, you instinctively lift the mug to view it, like it was your first time seeing it. 

“T-thanks, a student gave it to me last year and it’s kind of become my favorite one to use for school, I’ll be sad if something ever happens to it.” You internally cringe at your tendency to over share, words just aimlessly falling from your mouth, trying to mask your nervousness. 

“Keep it safe then. Anyways— I’m an actor, as Wren so kindly informed you. I normally live down in LA when I’m not shooting movies, but I’m—I’m taking some time off, no movies or anything at the moment, going to spend a few months with my sister and Wren, help out however I can.” 

Ah! There it is, the “I’m an actor” spiel making the attraction you felt towards him flee instantly. While he may be a new cleaned up version of the Dieter Bravo you met a year ago, he’s still just a typical Hollywood actor who likes to talk about himself at any chance he can get. Having had your fair share of run-ins with actors before, they’re all the same as far as you’re concerned— his career holds zero significance to you in any way. 

Releasing a heavy sigh as you remember Diem’s plea to be on your best behavior, you school your annoyance at his mentioning of it.

But unbeknownst to you, he can sense your lack of interest in what he’s saying and decides his introduction is over. 

Thankfully, you’re literally and figuratively saved by the bell. 

“Well, I better let you get to your class then.”

“Yeah— I’m sure I’ll see you around Mr. Bravo. Have a great day.” 

You turn towards your desk hastily placing your mug down in exchange for a stack of worksheets, then making your way to the front of the class to get your lesson started. 

“1-2-3, eyes on me! Good morning everyone! Please get a pencil while I pass these papers out.” 

Dieter stands in the doorway, observing your interactions with your students, a stark contrast to the coldness you’d given him at the end of your conversation. 

*

The rest of the day flew by once it started, the short interaction with Dieter unfortunately flitted through your mind more than you'd have liked it to. But you didn’t let your aversion towards him have any effect on your day. 

After closing up your class and dropping off attendance sheets in the front office, you made your way home, looking forward to an evening of drinks and gossip. 

A quick change out of your school clothes into some jeans, T-shirt and flip-flops, you filled your canvas tote with a chilled bottle of white wine and the cheeses you’d told Diem you’d bring over. 

Being that it’s roughly a 5 minute walk from your house to Diem’s. The neighborhood is quiet most days, giving you a chance to really enjoy the ambiance of everyone’s front gardens and a few neighborly ‘Hello’s’ as you stroll down the sidewalk.

Nearing Diem’s house, noticing her car in the driveway, a sense of relief washes over you at the thought of Dieter being out and the chance of running into him would be slim. You were ready to unwind for the evening. 

Front door unlocked, you let yourself in— both of you exchanging keys early on in your friendship in the off chance there was an emergency or one of you showed up to a locked door. 

Hearing Diem rustling around in her pantry, not hearing your arrival, you decide to start unpacking your tote and announce your presence. 

“You have no idea how much I need this tonight Diem!”

Not hearing a response from her, you continue placing things on her counter and continue to spill to her. 

“Also! Would have been nice to have a heads up that your brother would be dropping Wren off— was not prepared for that. But what a difference a year makes, he looks good, definitely was attracted to him for a split second— sorry I know you don’t want to hear that, but honestly such a difference from my first interaction with him being when I was yelling at him for being strung out in your bathroom.”

Still no word from her as you open the bottle of wine and unwrap the cheeses in preparation for the evening. 

“You’d be so proud of me too! I was on my best behavior despite how much I was annoyed with listening to him talk about himself— Hey, did you happen to get those crackers with the figs and olives?? I grabbed that honey goat cheese that we like to eat with them.”

The silence carries on from the pantry. No more movement. No sign of Diem. 

“Diem? You okay? Hey, I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have mentioned your brother being attractive— and I honestly was really nice to him. I mean, at least I think I was.”

You can hear Diem finally making her way to join you in the kitchen. 

Only when you look up, prepared to give her a big welcoming smile, your face immediately fades into a look of surprise when you realize it’s not Diem at all— it’s her brother, Dieter. 

“Diem’s not home.”

“Oh fuck—”

Next

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #pedro pascal #sweet creature series #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

[deanstead]

Murder Next Door || Part 1

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: When one of Jay’s neighbours is found dead, both he and Y/N find themselves right smack in the middle of what could turn out to be a very dangerous situation.

Word Count: 2,689

Tags/Warnings: canon-typical mentions of murder, blood, idiots-in-love

A/N: So this is another one of those "Resa's brain is at it again" but it got a little... long HAHA. So I'm splitting it into parts. I'm not sure how many parts there will be yet, so we'll see!

MINI SERIES MASTERLIST || JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

Part 2

You pulled your jacket tighter around you, ducking into the apartment building quickly to get out of the wind. Winters in Chicago were seriously brutal.

As you turned to close the door behind you, the door was stopped with a forceful bang as someone put his hand against the glass to stop it, the sound making you jump.

You exhaled, blinking back at the person.

He had a black cap on, almost covering his eyes, his scarf was pulled up almost to his nose, and his other hand was jammed tight into his pocket.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Cold night, didn’t wanna have to dig around for my keys.” His voice was smooth and clipped.

You didn’t say anything, just gave a small polite smile before you headed back up. By the time you crossed the threshold into Jay’s apartment, the encounter had already been forgotten, your eyes falling on the pizza boxes on the table.

“Finally. I’m starving.” Jay complained, his head already leaning on the back of his couch as he angled his head to look at you.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sorry, the meeting took a lot longer than I expected.”

Jay just pulled himself off the couch and headed towards the table.

“I was supposed to pay for dinner.” You told him, glancing up to look straight at him.

Jay rolled his eyes. “Just shut up and eat.” He answered, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite off it.

You’d been crashing at Jay’s apartment for a while, partly because he had a spare room and partly because he’d found out about the problem with your previous apartment and had bullied you into staying.

But you also knew the real reason why you’d been hesitant to move in.

Maybe things would have been much easier if you weren’t in love with your best friend. But it wasn’t like you had much of a choice in the matter. You’d almost called Will instead, since you'd known the brothers forever, but you felt like you’d be encroaching too much on Will’s space considering he only had the one bedroom he slept in.

So you found yourself here, sitting across from Jay, munching on pizza that he hadn’t even let you pay for considering you were freeloading at his house.

“What?”Jay asked, his eyes narrowing at you.

You shrugged. “Thinking of a gift, plotting your murder, you’ll never know Halstead.”

Jay rolled his eyes and you laughed, hiding everything else behind it. Just another normal night with your best friend.

You woke up the next morning with a pounding headache.

Your first instinct was to blame Jay for the extra bottle of beer he’d handed to you the previous night, but when you sat up and swung your legs off the bed, logic found its way to you and you knew two bottles of beer would definitely not give you a hangover.

Trying to ignore the pounding, you got up to go to the kitchen for a glass of water.

The house was quiet, which meant Jay had already left, so you pulled open the drawer, grimacing when you realized you’d forgotten to refill the aspirin.

With a sigh, you closed the drawer again. The pounding had somewhat subsided but not totally. You were glad that at least you didn’t have any meetings today. Today was supposed to be writing day which worked out because you could take things at your own pace.

Throwing on some clothes that were a bit more decent, you headed for the door, locking Jay’s door behind you before you froze.

“Jay?”

Jay was standing about two doors down, next to Kevin, looking into his neighbor's house with that expression you called his detective face. That’s when you saw the yellow crime scene tape right across the doorway and registered that Jay had his police vest on.

“Y/N, I didn’t think you were still…” Jay paused when he turned to look at you. “You okay?”

You shook your head. “Migraine, I think. But we’re out of aspirin. I’m just gonna…” You pointed.

Kevin gave Jay a nod and he stepped towards you. “Bad?” He put his hand on your forehead gently and you were acutely aware that Kevin was watching.

“No fever. Do you want me to make the run?” Jay asked, keeping his voice low.

“Detective Halstead, focus.” You teased gently, trying to hide the fact that your heartbeat had picked up. “What are you doing here? Everything okay?”

Jay glanced behind him. “Yeah, we need to interview everyone on the floor anyway so why don’t you go back in and I’ll be in shortly.”

“Can you interview me?” You asked, an eyebrow raising.

Jay let out a short laugh. “You’re a witness, Y/N. Not a suspect. Get back in there, and lie down. I’ll be right there.”

You rolled your eyes at him for fussing over a migraine but you were also secretly glad you didn’t have to go all the way to the store.

By the time Jay came back into his apartment, you were sprawled on the couch and definitely in need of that aspirin.

You heard Jay bustle into his own kitchen before he pressed the pill in one hand and then handed you the glass of water.

You felt the liquid trickle down your throat, bringing the aspirin tablet with it, before you glanced back up at him.

Jay frowned. “You didn’t have that much to drink last night. Should I be worried?”

You would have rolled your eyes if not for the splitting headache.

“I’m fine.” You said, propping yourself upwards. “So what’s going on?”

Jay’s expression took a heavier look now as he sat himself on his coffee table so he was facing you directly.

“The house two doors down? Did you know her?”

You glanced up at him, your eyebrows bunching together in confusion. “The blonde girl?”

Jay nodded.

You raised an eyebrow now. “She’s your neighbor, Jay.” You paused but when he didn’t say anything you went on. “I met her a few times around... You know, like in the stairwell, or the lift, but we didn’t really talk or anything, I don’t even know her name. What’s going on?”

Jay gave an audible exhale and you knew him well enough to know what followed wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Someone called in a dead body.”

A silence followed his statement.

“No.” The word escaped your lips like a whisper. “And I assume it’s not natural?”

Jay gave you a sad look and shook his head. “Preliminarily? Definitely not.” He paused. “You know I can’t tell you more.”

You nodded, looking down.

“Did you see anything yesterday or recently that was out of the ordinary?” Jay asked, and you could even hear the conflict in his voice. Like he hoped you did so that he could crack the case, but he also hoped you didn’t so you wouldn’t be wrapped up in all this.

“Like I said, I don’t even know her name. Off the top of my head, I don’t think there was anything. I always saw her alone.” You answered. “Sorry.”

Jay shook his head. “You know, if you think of anything…”

You gave him a small teasing smile. “I’ll call, Detective. I already have your number.”

Jay rolled his eyes but glanced back down at you as he stood. “How’s the head?”

You nodded. “Better.”

Jay reached down to ruffle your hair in that annoying way he did even though he knew you hated it. “I’ll be late, obviously. I’ll call Will to check in on you.”

“Do not.” You warned, even though you knew it was useless.

Jay just smiled, waved, and headed out the door.

Abbie Walker, 27.

The words stared back at Jay from where he sat at his desk. Jay hadn’t known her personally, he hadn’t even known her name and the only interaction they had had was probably polite smiles and nods as a form of greeting, but this still felt like it hit a little too close to home. Literally.

It was only as Adam walked into the bullpen that Jay tore his eyes away from the photo they’d put on the board.

“Medical Examiner’s report. They count twelve stab wounds.” Adam said, with a grim look on his face, handing Jay the report.

Jay frowned. “That much overkill?”

Jay’s eyes raked over the report quickly before he handed it back to Voight for him to take a look.

Before Voight could say anything, Kim jogged up the stairs. “Jay, you need to take a look at this.” She said, her voice was slightly urgent as she headed straight for her desk and pushed the USB drive she had into her computer.

“We got the traffic pod that has a view of the front of your building.” Kim said, pulling the slider across the video to the part she wanted to show Jay.

“We cleared almost everyone who came in within three hours before and after Abbie’s estimated time of death. Except two people. One is a guy who delivered flowers, Kevin’s on that. The other person is this guy.”

Jay squinted, leaning forward to take a closer look.

“Wait stop.” Jay said, as there was a ringing in his ears.

Kim nodded, pulling the video backwards again. “This is why I wanted to show you. That’s Y/N, isn’t it? Heading in right before him?”

“Damn it.” Jay muttered, his eyes registering the timestamp on the video as Kim pressed play again and he watched the tape of you heading in, and the guy behind you reaching out to hold the door to make sure it didn’t close before he slipped in.

Hailey shook her head. “Jay, maybe she didn’t…”

Jay let out a sigh. “With our luck?” He glanced at Voight.

Voight nodded. “Kim, Jay, go.”

While the rest spread out to follow on the other evidence they had on hand, Kim nodded, following Jay to his truck as he sped off back towards home, where he knew you would be.

You’d barely settled at the table and opened your laptop when the door opened.

You glanced up with somewhat of an exasperated look on your face, expecting to see the redhead Halstead standing there. Instead, you frowned in confusion.

“Jay? What are you doing…” Your voice trailed off as you noticed Kim right behind him.

“Hey, Y/N.” Kim called.

You smiled back at Kim, giving her a small wave, although your frown deepened when you glanced back at Jay.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

Jay glanced at you as he and Kim sat in chairs facing you. “You were home late last night, did you see anyone?”

You shook your head before you paused.

“What is it?” Jay prompted, noticing the change in your demeanor immediately.

Kim sat up a little straighter and you looked at her before you glanced back at Jay. “There was this guy… Uh… I remember because he gave me a shock.”

Jay’s frown deepened.

You shook your head, reading Jay’s expression immediately. “No, he just stopped me from closing the door. The sound gave me a shock. He said… he said it was too cold and that I was saving him the trouble of digging for his keys.”

Jay glanced at Kim.

“What’s…” Your voice trailed off because you’d already reached the conclusion. “Oh my god… no…”

Kim nodded at Jay. “I’ll call Hailey.”

As Kim excused herself, Jay got up, rounding around the table to squat in front of you. “You couldn’t have known, alright? Did you see his face?”

You shook your head. “No, he had a… a scarf draped over the lower half of his face. It was cold, I didn’t think…”

Jay shook his head more vigorously this time, reaching for your hand and squeezing gently. “Don’t do that.”

You glanced up, belatedly realizing how close Jay really was to you, the air feeling like it was sucked out from the room.

Jay blinked back at you before he lifted his hand from yours quickly. Before the awkward tension could fully permeate the room, Kim walked back in. “Jay, we gotta…”

Jay cleared his throat, pulling backwards as he nodded at Kim.

“You going to be okay?” He asked, with a final look back at you.

You smiled and nodded. “Go save the city.”

You watched Jay and Kim walk out, the front door clicking shut behind them, before you turned back towards your computer.

You were going to work and you were not going to think anymore about what had happened next door, you told yourself even as another ‘what if’ floated through your mind.

Jay didn’t come back that night, even though he’d called to check in on you and offer to have Will come over. You’d rolled your eyes over the phone and promised him that you’d latch the door so well that even if he did come home, he’d have to sleep on the corridor outside.

Even so, you knew Jay was behind it when Will called you all of ten minutes later to offer to bring food over. You relented with a “Fine, you worried I’m going to forget your stupid face?”

So Will had come over with food, which actually saved you a trip and you’d spent the night catching up with him, rolling your eyes as he gently teased you about how you only wanted to hang out with Jay.

But you were grateful that at least Will’s presence had taken your mind off a lot of other things.

By the next day, you were pretty much back to yourself. Jay had always been a little protective of you, even from the time you guys had been in school, and he was probably feeling a bit of heat from the case being a little too close to home. So you told yourself that you’d humor him, and that the Halsteads were just being… the Halsteads.

You’d gone about the day like any normal day but reminded yourself not to stay out too late, just going out for a short meeting with one of your publishers before you came home, or rather Jay’s apartment.

You smiled a little to yourself, realizing how the word ‘home’ resonated in your mind along with Jay, although it came with the bittersweet taste of the feelings you’d kept buried in your heart for so many years.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard a knock at the door.

You headed towards the door, wondering if it was Will again, and telling yourself if it was Jay, you were going to remind him that this was his apartment and that he didn’t need to go out of his way to make you comfortable.

But when you opened the door, it was neither Halstead.

The guy standing at Jay’s door was dressed in a CPD jacket, the kind that patrol put on sometimes, along with a police cap that was sitting snugly on his head.

You frowned a little, glancing to the side for sight of a non-existent partner.

“I’m from CPD, we have some follow up questions about the murder down the hall. Do you mind if I come in?”

You felt your eyebrows unconsciously bunch together. Even if Jay couldn’t come himself for any reason, there was no way that he would send anyone other than Intelligence members in his place. And the fact that this officer was alone here was way too suspicious as well.

Your eyes flicked to where the officer’s hand was resting on Jay’s door.

You weren’t sure what would happen if you tried to forcefully close the door right now. If he pushed back, he’d overpower you easily.

You bit the inside of your cheek. As you stood there, trying to calculate all the possibilities in your head to decide what was the next thing you were supposed to do, he took another step forward closer to you, essentially forcing you to step backwards instinctively, his hand pushing the door open just a little wider.

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Character taglists are open!

#resa.fics #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #murder next door fic #jay halstead mini series #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfic #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfic #jay halstead series #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n

[foreverdolly]

𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑(𝐩𝐭 𝟏)| 𝟗𝟎𝐬!𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: your love life has been tragic to say the least, so after a rather public breakup you decide that you're done with bad boys. elvis is the lead singer of a well known and well loved metal band. he lives a hard and fast lifestyle and wouldn't dream of ever apologizing for it. the one thing that nobody would ever expect from a rough-around-the-edges kinda guy like elvis is the fact that the man is a hopeless romantic. and he's got his sights set on you. elvis presley was precisely the kind of person you were trying to avoid. you couldn't let him weasel his way into your life. . . . right?

warning/notes: SMUT! ahead, this thing is going to be dirty dirty so prepare yourselves, drug and alcohol use. you're seriously a sex symbol and everyone is obsessed with you. . . including me. elvis is an actual simp in this fic, but what's new with my writing? this fic does take place in the 90's. . . so just imagine 60's elvis throughout this fic, because that's exactly what i was doing. | this is part one of a three part mini series. i will be posting all three parts this week, so you will not have to wait a million years to be able to finish it. please please please heart this post, repost it and tell me what you think about it. i love interaction, and this is my first time posting in ages. i'm a little nervous about it.

word count: 5.3k

masterlist | requests are currently closed !

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The bar was hazy with thick cigarette smoke, but there was something special about the way that the neon lights shone through the fog that hung above the mass of grinding bodies. The music pounded away in your ears, and after the round of mixed drinks that you had downed with your group of friends, you couldn’t help but sway your body along with the beat. In a packed bar like this, where everybody was too drunk to notice or too high to care, you were just another somebody. 

That was the draw to nightlife for you. It was a small reprieve, and maybe it made you a bit sick in the head, but you cherished it. No matter how self absorbed and ungrateful it sounded, you missed the days of feeling like a normal person. You missed being able to leave your house in a ratty old t-shirt and shorts without the fear of being plastered all over the front of a gossip magazine looming above your head. You missed going to the grocery store and taking your sweet time perusing the aisles. You missed the way your life had been before the organized chaos. 

People have always paid extra attention to you. You had been the butt of many jokes during your early days in middle school. You were the ugly duckling- nothing but a scrawny little girl that came from an impoverished family. The year you turned thirteen everything changed though. Puberty had hit you like a freight train. Your curves had filled out and your face had lost all of its baby fat. In the blink of an eye all of the girls wanted to be your friends, and the boys that used to tease you were now trying their hardest to get your attention. 

You only got prettier as time went on it would seem. People stopped caring about the unfortunate state of your home life all together, instead focusing on your looks and likeability. School was no longer hell from you, and you entirely had your appearance to thank for it. Becoming a model had happened just as quickly. 

You had been on a date with an ex when you had first been discovered. You remembered that day vividly: the nasty fight during the car ride to the stadium, the overpriced beers as well as the crippling fear that you were allowing a man to emotionally beat you down. You had somehow ended up on the jumbotron, and all you could do was awkwardly smile and wave- blow a few kisses at the camera when it lingered on your face for a little too long. You had laughed it off, assuring your at-the-time boyfriend that it had been some sort of a coincidence. He had been the jealous and possessive sort. A man that worked in the marketing department of one of your state’s favorite beer companies saw you holding the bottle in your hand on the big screen, and the rest was history. 

You felt blessed for your booming career and all of the attention that you had garnered over the last few years, but a part of you missed the days where you could go outside without cameras flashing or people asking something of you. Everybody always wanted something from you. Be it a simple picture, a signature or even a smile- at this point there wasn’t a part of you not owned or wanted by the public. Even other celebrities had an ulterior motive for trying to connect with you. You’d learned your lesson though. Dating was officially off the table. Well. . . dating celebrities, at least. 

“I’m being serious this time, guys.” You tried to reason with your friends, reaching up to tangle your long manicured fingers into your messy updo. “Bad boys are out.” You seriously believed it this time too. No matter how hot, famous or rich you were, men were always going to be trash.

You had always been the type of girlfriend that went out of her way to take care of their partner. You hated drama, so starting unnecessary fights was beneath you. You were trusting to a fault, which had gotten you into trouble more than a handful of times. You had a big heart, and despite the constant disappointments you still believed in true love. You had finally come to the conclusion that the problem was never you. It had always been them. You were self aware enough to know that you had a bit of a. . .type. 

“Bad boys” only wanted one thing from you though. 

They just wanted sex. It had always been that way, even since high school. As much as you hated to admit it, you had never been in a stable relationship, even in the early years of your life before the tabloids kept tabs on your every move. 

You loved sex, but it never led to anything good. The most you got out of it in most cases was nothing but momentary, fleeting satisfaction that only left you feeling more empty than you had been before. You were done with being used to beef up somebody's ego only to be discarded like garbage soon after. 

Your close friend, Veronica, was quick to throw her arm around you, pressing your frame tightly into her side. “We need to find you someone nerdy. Like. . . like an accountant or something.” She snapped her fingers excitedly as though she had just solved world hunger. 

You let out a small squeal, leaning your head back to laugh without restraint. In your inner circle on a night like this? Things seemed to just. . . fall into place. You were happy- obnoxiously so- and you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else. You were sick and tired of crying over men that didn’t care about you. Especially ones that didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt for them. All that mattered now was the fact that they were playing remixes of all your favorite songs at this particular club and that you had just gotten your nails freshly painted earlier in the day. Your dress fit you like a glove, you were actually having a good hair day without the help of a stylist and the people that you had surrounded yourself with loved you like family. This was your element.

The drinks were flowing, your heart was happy, and you were tired of moping around and feeling bad for yourself. 

An accountant was exactly what you needed. 

“You’re so right! I need a sweet little accountant that I can come home to at the end of a long day. That sounds perfect to me. I need a man that lives a boring life and is more than willing to take time out of his not-so hectic life for me.” You agreed, pressing your cheek against your friend’s in a display of affection before grabbing your drink off of the table. “A toast! To. . .,” You bit your plush bottom lip as you tried to think of the best way to word what it was that you were looking for in a man. “To good guys.” 

“To good guys!” They all chimed after you. 

Your friends were all quick to clink their glasses against yours, happily joining you in downing the rest of their brightly colored glasses of alcohol. 

“Excuse me!” You called out to one of the waitstaff, flagging her down with a wide dazzling smile. 

The scantily dressed woman was quick to make her way over to your marked off section. The owner of the club insisted on putting you and your friends in VIP for ‘your safety’, though you were starting to think that all it was doing was drawing more attention towards your area. The younger woman smiled sweetly back at you, though you weren’t blind enough to not see the way that her fingers were anxiously twitching at her sides. A-list celebrities didn’t frequent clubs like this, so you were sure that she was probably scared out of her mind to do something wrong and incur your (nonexistent) wrath.  

“W-What can I help you with?” What little confidence she had earlier was faltering now as she got closer and closer to you. 

“I want to buy every person in this club a shot of tequila! Top shelf, please. We’re celebrating!” Tonight you were in an especially good mood considering your recent split with your heartthrob co-star. You were finally starting to feel better about it, which was a good sign that you were moving on. 

You and your group’s shots arrived first, but within seconds tray after tray of plastic cups began circulating the bar. You were quick to cheers your friends once again, swallowing back the clear liquor. You had imbibed in a fair bit of alcohol already, so the burning sensation wasn’t as bad as it had been towards the beginning of your girls night out. Despite the slightly numb lips and hazy expression, you didn’t sway once in your heels as you continued to sway along to the beat of the music. You danced like nobody was watching, but little did you know that a certain blue eyed musician had his eye on you from across the club. 

“Compliments of (F/N) (L/N).” The waitress motioned to the tray that she was holding up in front of the brunette’s face. 

For a second all he could do was stare at the drinks, drunkenly trying to remember whether or not he ordered anything. His eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise as the woman’s words finally began to register. Wait a minute. . . who bought him a shot? The name sounded awfully familiar, so he must know the woman somehow. His rings glinted under the colored lights as he reached for the cup, the leggy blonde that had been keeping him company that night following suit. 

“Who?” He asked dumbly, squinting his eyes to follow the direction that the waitress had pointed in. 

“(F/N) (L/N). She’s an actress and model? She bought every-” And before the woman could let Elvis know that you had bought everyone in the entire club a shot he was already throwing the tequila back, tossing the plastic drunkenly back onto the table before pushing the blonde woman’s arm off from around him as though her touch burned him. 

Because he had recognized you the second that he saw you, even from across the bar. You were prettier in person than you were on camera, which was rare in Los Angeles. 

The woman that had once been keeping him company gaped up at the musician, her cheeks darkening with embarrassment as she realized that she was actively being ditched for another woman. In front of everybody that she had come to the club with. 

“Fuck you, Presley!” She screamed after him, but the curse fell on deaf ears as he wove his way in between the writhing, sweaty bodies of dancing patrons. 

He had his eyes glued on one person and one person only. Never in his life had he seen a woman that beautiful before- and Elvis had seen, kissed and fucked his fair share of hot women. He remembered exactly why your name sounded so familiar to him. You weren’t some chick whose feelings he had hurt or someone that his music label had asked him to play nice with. 

You were a fuckin’ Playboy Bunny. 

Your group of friends had stopped talking and had all turned to face him as he approached, their eyebrows knitted together as they tried to figure out exactly who he was and why he was there. Tall and lean, heavily tattooed with dark hair and blue eyes as bright as the morning sky. One by one he watched their expressions shift into recognition. Elvis lifted up a long leg, easily stepping over the velvet rope that had been put up around your section. 

All you could do was watch, wondering exactly why Elvis Presley was approaching you with a smirk on his face. Was there something that you might have missed? You’d never met the man before in your life. You would have definitely remembered if you had. 

He was clad in a black pair of jeans and a white tank top that fit snug enough to show off his nipple piercings. His thick gold necklaces caught the light as he bent down to shorten his frame, smiling directly at you. It was like the two of you were the only ones in the bar. His attention was perfectly undivided. His black hair hung loose in his eyes, undone from its usual updo that he had sported in all of the pictures you’d seen of him in the past. You had to admit though. . . there was something more dangerous about this version of Elvis. He seemed more wild and relaxed. More himself and less of the showman. It made your heart race, and admittedly kept you from shooing him off in the opposite direction. 

Not even ten minutes ago you had sworn off bad boys, and yet here you were, watching with wide eyes as one sauntered right up to you. 

His black boots stopped to rest right in front of your heeled feet, and he took his time looking you up and down, wanting you to see his approval. He wanted you to know just how irresistible he found you. In a club as loud as this one was, you had to learn how to communicate with your body. 

Elvis had been raised in the south by a Christian family, but that didn’t mean that he was always a gentleman. He was far too drunk for that. So instead of thanking you for the shot or trying his hand at flirting with you, he plopped down in the spot beside you and leaned over. 

Your jaw went slack as you felt his warm tongue trail all the way up from the sensitive pulsepoint at your neck to your temple. His nose brushed against your hair as his warm breath fanned over your ear. You could hear his heady breath, and it lit a fire inside of you. Rather than being outraged you found yourself clamping your thighs together in the hopes of creating some sort of friction. He pulled back only to smile drunkenly at you, drumming his tattooed hands against his seat as he waited for your reaction.

He watched you all while knowing that you had to have felt something. Your breath had caught at the sudden action, and he knew it. He saw the adorable flush to your cheeks and the glint in your glassy eyes. A cocky, satisfied huff left him as he leaned back against the leather booth. You, of course, exceeded his expectations when you turned towards your friend and repeated the action. Your group, no matter how prissy they all looked, were all good sports. They howled and cackled as one by one they licked each other’s face, following your lead without question. 

“I’m Elvis.” He called over the music, watching as you gave him a knowing nod. 

You opened your mouth in order to introduce yourself only for him to hold his hand up, giving a dismissive flick of his wrist. “No need. I know who ya are.” He stated with an upturned lip.

His smile was nothing short of goofy, his blue eyes sweet as he looked over your face again and again, almost as though he was committing every detail to memory. There was something about him that just felt. . . different. It felt good. 

“Do ya wanna dance?” He nodded towards the packed dance floor, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Your best friend tensed behind you. “What happened to good boys being in?” She whispered in your ear, shooting you a pleading look. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, waving her off like it was no big deal. “This is just for tonight. We’re only going to dance, alright? Promise.” And with that you stood up, letting him take your hand and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you danced, only that you could feel long strands of your wavy hair clinging to the back of your arms after falling out from its’s updo. You were a drunken, sweaty mess and didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was that Elvis was making you laugh harder than you ever had before. His large hands felt too good on your hips as he swayed you back and forth, pressing you against his thigh. All you would have to do is arch your back just a fraction, and it would be your cunt that he would be leading you to grind against his thigh, not your hips. You should have hated yourself for the thought, but you were too far gone. All you knew was that he was handsome and was looking down at you as though you hung the moon. 

He was so big and warm. Domineering in a kind of way that let you know he would be able to take care of you in the exact way that you preferred. 

Your fingers gently traced a few of the tattoos on his arms as you continued to sway back and forth, eying the colorful, sweaty skin as he continued to wrap himself around you. He smelled like expensive cologne and warm skin- and it took every last shred of self restraint that you had in your body not to bury your nose into his chest and inhale. Being around him was making you lose your mind.

The two of you only left the dance floor to down more drinks and get away from the loud speakers from time to time when you wanted to converse with each other. It was far too loud to have any sort of heart to hearts with him, but he went out of his way to show off his flashy personality to you. 

“I really have to go, Elvis. I’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon, which means I have to wake up early to pack.” You explained, stumbling outside so that you could wait for the cab that the bar had called for you. 

Elvis had been nice enough to offer to wait with you, not wanting any seedy characters to get any bad ideas. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, and you didn’t even want to think about the kind of people that might be lurking in the darkness. L.A was a terrifying place to be left alone in. Especially at night.

“The clubs not even closin’ yet though. Why don’t you wait for just one more hour?” He begged, his gold bracelet sliding down to his forearm as he clasped his hands together over his chest. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the dyed brunette eyeing the adorable way your nose scrunched up as you did so. Yeah. . . he was completely smitten. It was official. 

“I’m serious, Elvis. I have to get home.” You weren’t giving in, no matter how much you wanted to. 

Your friend's words were finally pounding their way back into your head, reminding you that the man in front of you would only break your heart and leave you to pick up the pieces afterwards. Casual sex used to be fun for you, but you were bored with the notion. What you were looking for was someone to settle down with. Elvis Presley definitely didn’t seem like the type. 

“Well where are you doin’ tomorrow? Maybe we can do somethin’ fun.” He needed to see you as soon as possible. He could tell that staying over at your place or vice versa was completely out of the question, so he didn’t even attempt to offer. You were worth the wait anyway, so he didn’t mind taking his time. He could tell that you were old school, and he respected it. 

This way of thinking was completely out of character for Elvis though. The reason why he wasn’t afraid to sleep around and forget about the women that he spent time with was because the two of you were very similar. The musician was a hopeless romantic, and wanted to fall in love more than he cared to ever say. 

If you weren’t in love then you weren’t alive. That was his way of thinking, at least. 

He wanted somebody to share his life with, but he hadn’t met the right person. He had tried his hand at long term relationships a couple of times, but women had a track record of breaking his heart. So he had gotten into the habit of being the break-er and not the break-ee. 

“I’m headed to Mexico for this business trip. If I show up with huge bags under my eyes my manager will not be happy.” You watched as he perked up, your eyebrows raising in confusion. 

“I love Mexico! Where exactly are you stayin’?” 

“Cacún. . .” You replied slowly, not exactly sure whether or not you wanted him to know. There was something about his reaction to the news that made you think that he might try and. . . - no. No way. No normal person- musician or not- would book a last minute flight just to spend more time with you. Stable people’s minds didn’t work like that. 

“Oh, that’s perfect. We’re goin’ to Cancún then.” No hesitation. 

You guffawed, blinking hard at him as you tried to figure out exactly how to handle this situation. You were used to men being forward with you, but this was on an entirely different level. 

“You’re not following me to Mexico,” You told him, reaching out to give his arm a small shake when you noticed the devious smile pulling up at his lips. “Elvis, I’m serious.” 

“Oh, I’m so comin’, no matter how much you beg.” 

The taxi pulled up to the curb before you could say anything else. With a loud sigh you opened the door for yourself, blurting out “no you’re not” as you closed the door soundly behind you. Before you could even blink the man was wrenching the other backdoor open, sliding his way inside. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He had to be playing with you, because there was no way he could be serious. 

“Sir, please wait a minute. He’s not coming with me.” You told the taxi driver before turning to face the black haired man. “Elvis, you are not coming to Mexico. Okay? It’s something that I have to do for work. Now. . . can you please let me go home?” The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on you, and you felt exhausted. Your bed was practically calling out to you. So no matter how charismatic or handsome the singer was, you refused to let him come home with you.

“I’ll get out of the car if you do one thing for me.” 

You weren’t surprised when he asked for your number, and like an idiot you complied, writing the words “don’t call” right above your digits. 

It was only when he got out of the car with a wide smile on your face that you realized how torn you were. Part of you knew that he shouldn’t call, but a large chunk of you really wanted him to despite that fact. 

What you didn’t see was the way Elvis stared after the taxi until it had completely disappeared down the street, and then at the small scrap of paper in his hands. He gently traced his finger over your loopy, feminine handwriting. Eager to get home so that he could give you a lil ring. 

The phone had been ringing off the hook since ten o’clock that morning. One after the other, Elvis had left you voicemail after voicemail. You had half the mind to just rip out the cord and cut your losses, but knew that your manager would have no way to contact you if she needed to. So you put up with the inappropriate amount of calls. 

“Ya did buy me a shot of tequila last night, which I think has to be a sign that I’m supposed to go to Mexico with ya.” 

Beep. 

“Me and my band just finished recordin’ our album, which means that I have way too much time on my hands. Really, you would be doin’ me a damn favor if you let me go with you.” 

Beep. 

“Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley and his weiner are fuckin’ comin’ to Cancún.” His singing echoed around the house. 

Beep. 

“Hola, mi amor-” 

Beep. 

“Cancún~,” You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay as you dragged your heavy silver suitcase down your stairs and up to the front door. “Cancú-” 

“Elvis.” 

“Darlin’!” He called out excitedly as you picked up the phone for the first time that entire morning. 

“Don’t. Come.” You tried using your stern voice, hoping he would finally take you seriously. 

A beat, and then came his answer. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin’.” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Don’t.” And with that you hung up, dragging your luggage out your front door and towards the waiting taxi. 

You should have been appalled, but how could you be? Because what if he really did show up? The thought of seeing him again made her palms go a bit sweaty. "U-Umm. . . You can just drop me off at the front. There's no need to try and park with all of that airport traffic."

“Are you looking for someone?” Your friend asked, standing up the tips of her toes so that she could shove her carry-on into the overhead compartment. 

You pushed the sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose, leaning further back into your seat as you watched the door to the plane like a hawk. You hated the fact that Veronica was so observant. Well. . . in this case, at least. She could read you like a book. She had already questioned you about last night until she was blue in the face, and the last thing you needed was for her to find out that there was a possibility that he might be following you all the way to Mexico. And why? You still had no clue. 

“Of course not. I’m just eager to lift off, is all. I’m hoping to take a little nap until we get there.” You hated lying more than anything, but you were willing to do anything to keep her from lecturing you. 

She meant well, and you loved her for that. You just couldn’t help but feel guilty for dancing with Elvis last night, even if it had meant absolutely nothing. It had to have meant absolutely nothing to you. The two of you hadn’t even kissed, which meant that you technically hadn’t gone back on your word. Good boys were in. And bad boys? 

They were out. 

The nicer beachside resorts loomed high above the bustling city, their sleek designs and gaudy terraces visible from the lower streets. You had decided to roll down the window of the car so that you could enjoy the warm night air. The smells, sounds, and sights were so different from those that you were used to in L.A. It was a nice change of pace, whether you were here for work purposes or not. All you had to do was play nice with a room full of rich old men and then you’d be in the clear. Your friend had excitedly made plans for the entire weekend, doing her fair share of research to make sure that the two of you had the best time. She’d even called your resort ahead of time so that she could know what kind of food they served. She had originally agreed to come with you right after your bad breakup to keep you company, but what had once been a means to look out for you and offer you support had quickly turned into her hatching a plan to keep your mind off of things. 

The fact that this trip also gave her a means to try and dissuade you from ever talking to Elvis again was just an added bonus. 

“Ronnie, have you ever seen something so beautiful? Look at that.” You pointed out the window, ushering her to lean closer against you so that she could see what you were seeing. 

A crowd of people were dancing amongst each other, string lights swaying softly in the oceanside breeze as they clapped joyously along with the music. You were a stickler for romance films. The cheesier, the better. It was almost as though you were watching one unfold right before your very eyes. 

You continued to point this way and that, your eyes wide as you tried to fully bask in the city all around you. For a second you forgot all about the crazy musician and his threat to follow you to Mexico. It was just you and your best friend spending some much needed time away from the messy city life of Los Angeles. The car began to climb the brick road all the way up to the largest resort, intricate metal lanterns hanging from the large front porch of the building. 

“They have us staying here?” Veronica gaped, her eyes wide with excitement. This was her first time out of the country in ages, and she was planning to pack in as much as she possibly could over the three day weekend. She had been sure to warn you to prepare yourself for a packed itinerary. 

“I had no clue it would be this nice.” You mumbled your reply, reaching your hand out numbly as you watched a few members of the staff pour out from the front lobby. 

The car door was being opened for you in the blink of an eye, your luggage already being carried up and into the building. 

“Miss (L/N) and friend, we’re so pleased that you could bless us with your presence. My name is Oliver and I will be taking care of all of your needs. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything at all.” Oliver looked to be a year or two younger than you, dressed up in a pressed suit and perfectly starched tie. He sounded like he was reading off of a script, eager to please the star and her close friend. 

When you had envisioned Cancún you hadn’t thought of. . . such a fancy resort. Sprawling beaches and family owned restaurants were more your style, but this? You’d happily thank your manager for booking you such a sweet gig. You and your friend would be staying in your own suites on the top floor for free, and all you had to do was sit and look pretty during dinner tonight. Living the life of a celebrity was still new to you, so you had been told that you still had that “small town” charm that people adored so much. You were personable and genuine, which was rare to find in Sin City. Your good looks and sweet attitude was, thankfully, the reason why you were able to live such a lush lifestyle. 

“Thank you, Oliver. If you could just point me in the direction of our suites that would be amazing. I need to get dressed for tonight.” Your white sneakers and yoga pants felt hideously out of place in the large lobby. Men and women in full glamor passed by you and your leisurely dressed friend, causing the both of you to duck your heads down in embarrassment in fear of being perceived. 

“Of course. Here is your key ma’am,” Oliver slid you the golden key with a well trained smile. “And then here is yours.” 

You started to walk off in the direction of the elevator but froze as he called your name once again. 

“Someone delivered flowers for you. I can have them brought to your room as well if you’d like.” The young brunette reached down on the table behind him, placing the intricate bouquet down on the counter in front of you. 

Your jaw dropped as you realized just how expensive something like that must have been, especially to be delivered. Peonies, babies breath, roses- it was huge. You couldn’t think of anyone that would deliver flowers to you. Not in Cancún, at least. 

Veronica elbowed your side gently, eagerly urging you to read the card. 

“It’s from-” You couldn’t help but bite your lip, trying to keep your smile at bay. Tonight was already turning out to be wonderful. . . and you practically just landed. 

That smile, however, was quick to fall off of your face as you read the card.

i wanted to give credit to my amazing beta readers! @meds4beatlemania, @austinsmutler and a special thanks to @memphis-mania. mem literally held my hand throughout the editing process and gave me the confidence i needed to put on my big girl panties and post! are you interested in becoming a beta reader? feel free to message me!

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

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[late-night-talking]

Loving You’s the Real Thing

Part 1

a/n: this is set in an a/b/o verse, if you don’t like that kind of thing, no worries, just scroll on! as for the people who do read, I love wolfrry and a/b/o verse so I’m pretty excited for this (mini?) series. if you have any questions about what’s going on or the logistics of a/b/o, don’t hesitate to message and ask! hope you all enjoy and I would love any feedback.

word count: 3k

warnings: a/b/o dynamics

summary: Harry is next in line to be Alpha, ready to let his mother relax after having to take on the responsibilities of the pack following the death of her husband, his step father, but one thing is holding him back. He has yet to find his Luna.

She had felt off for a few weeks. In and out of daydreaming, which was not like her. She kept thinking about her mate. Where they were, what they were doing, and most importantly, when they would find her. She would experience flashes of them when she closed her eyes, their hands or eyes, and brief whiffs of what she could only call, home, mate. It was driving her mad, mentally and physically.

She thinks it’s just her heat, showing it’s ugly head in warning, but none of her previous heats manifested in such a way. Not that she had many ‘adult’ heats, maybe six after turning 18, when heats started to get more sexual and less… school-girl.

When presenting, Alphas and Omegas would go though less intense ruts and heats that didn’t require or demand a sexual partner, until they turned 18. It was just the way of bodies forming into their secondary gender, and also getting the individual ready for the real thing, when it was near impossible to get through it without another. It was also meant to give time to find your mate, but these days, it was rare to find your mate within your pack. Which left you with finding them in the wild, like people do.

Y/N was trying to focus on her healing class, practicing harnessing her care-taking Omega traits into a stream of healing energy. Only a select few had the capabilities, and it wasn’t without training and hard work.

The alpha below her, if she could call him that, had went off and stupidly sought out a fight in unclaimed territory. An obviously much more powerful Alpha had put him in his place. Unclaimed territory was meant for rogue wolves, outcasted from their packs, not drunk wolves looking for a fight. The territory was policed by the surrounding pack territories, on a rotating schedule, by what Y/N gathered.

As she was removing his make-shift bandages, just his shirt tied tightly around his midsection, an aroma suddenly smacked her in the face, pulling her from her supposed concentration. The luscious smell was definitely not coming from the wolf below her, she had smelled him as soon as he was brought into the infirmary, but almost from his… wounds?

The smell was somewhat familiar, the scent that had been coming to her in her daydreaming, but ten times stronger. She had to excuse herself and immediately find out which pack had been on post last night.

“Hey, Sarah?” Y/N called over to her classmate and friend. “Do you mind taking over? I’m not feeling that well.”

“‘Course not!” Sarah replies with a smile. They had grown up together as best friends. She had already found her mate, Mitch, which of course Y/N was a bit jealous of. “Let me know if you need anything, hope you start to feel better!”

All Y/N could do was give her a meek smile, and scurry out of the infirmary. Shoving the large wooden doors open, she’s met with the wonderful temperate of fall, wind blowing her hair around her face a bit.

All she can think of is finding the source of that wonderful smell. She makes a bee-line to the pack house, navigating the vast halls to the large room that essentially is like a town hall. It has all known records and histories of the surrounding territories, treaties, and most importantly to her, the schedule of the guards.

Y/N hustles to the front desk, where the historian sits. She’s a sweet lady, always willing to help how she can. The woman’s small spectacles sit atop her nose, close to the tip. Y/N waits as patiently as she can for the woman to stop reading and look up at her.

Soon enough, the grey-haired Beta looks up with a small smile, “What can I help you with dearie?”

“Uhm, I was wondering which pack was on guard last night. I work in the infirmary, and had an injured wolf, who went off looking for a fight. I just wanted to be able to check on the Alpha who put him in his place.” Y/N practically word-vomits out, trying to be somewhat inconspicuous.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re quite alright. And if not, they have their own healers at their pack.”, the woman reassuringly states. “But if you must know, the schedule that is agreed on is with the treaties. There should be a binder in that isle labeled as such. It’s looked over and agreed on with all the packs every year, so it should be accurate.” As the woman is talking, she points over to an area of the large library.

“Thanks! I appreciate it.” Y/N states as fast as she can, hurrying towards the isle clearly labeled treaties.

Before she can get too far away, at an increased volume, the woman states, “Hope you can find what you’re looking for!”

All Y/N can do is glance behind her to offer a small smile, but the woman is looking back at her, with a knowing look.

Once she finds the clearly labeled binder, flipping through the pages to get to the current months schedule. Her eyes scan the month quickly, finding who was on patrol last night. Her vivid globes widen a bit at the answer to her question.

The Starlight Pack. They were well known for being a pack full of beautiful creatures, even their Betas. Being one of the strongest packs in the surrounding states, Y/N knew a good bit about them. Their current leader was a single Luna. Her husband had tragically passed, however having no biological children of his own, his stepson was next in line.

Unfortunately for the reigning Luna, her son could not become Alpha until he found a suitable Luna. This was common practice across all packs. The Luna did not need to be the Alpha’s true mate, however that was of course, preferable.

Her mind wandered, thinking of who in the renowned pack could be her mate. Trying to piece them together, from what she gathered from her dreams, awake or asleep.

Catching herself in yet another daydream, Y/N realized she was wasting time. Her next hurdle might be her biggest on her quest to find her mate, getting to their pack.

The Starlight Pack was actually adjoining her pack, connecting in a northwest quadrant. However, the city center, if you could call them cities, are in the middle of their territories, surrounded by vast forests, giving distance between pack lines.

Packing a bag, throwing on a burgundy knit jumper, and leaving a, hopefully, reassuring note for her parents, knowing they wouldn’t let her leave on her own if they had been there instead of their positions. She also text Sarah, just giving her a heads up, not leaving time for her to talk Y/N out of it.Going to the pack garage, she spoke to the clerk there, signing out a car to ‘go into town for feminine products, for my Beta friend’ is all she had to say to avoid more questions from the Beta male.

The pack centers were roughly 40 miles away from each other, taking about an hour of driving to get there. The roads were almost completely empty, no one else being on them besides travelers or hikers. The leaves still hanging onto the trees were red-wine stained and honeyed hues, with some darker purples mixed in. The trees created an arch of sorts over the road, only letting in streaks of sunlight and blue sky.

With the sun falling below the horizon, Y/N pulled up to the gates of the Starlight Pack, her heart sinking into her stomach. She hadn’t quite thought of what she was going to say, it’s not like they were going to let some stranger in. Coming to a slow, she heard the rustle of fallen leaves being thrown behind the car.

She knew she was about to be questioned by a group of Alphas. Who else would be guarding their border? With a deep breath, she swings the car door open, throwing her legs out and stepping onto the ground, leaves crunching under her boots. As expected, two Alphas emerge from the wrought iron gate.

“How can we help you, lil omega? Did ya get lost on yer way home?” One of the men question. He’s not threatening in his tone, trying to be more helpful, rather than harmful, but his status enough is sufficient to make Y/N nervous.

With all her courage she can muster, she answers them in the strongest voice she can summon, “I came in search of my mate. I have reason to believe they’re here.”

Y/N tried hard not to word vomit the entire story, assuming these Alphas didn’t care why she believed such a thing. As the wind moved around them, her shiny hair was carried around her face, and she smelled them. Her mate. The wonderful scent of chamomile, musk, and sandalwood, even stronger than when she caught a whiff earlier in the day. If she could smell them, hopefully they could smell her and would come find her. It made Y/N’s brain fuzzy, and relaxed, not like she was standing in a strange place, with strange alphas who were not her mate.

The blonde one spoke again, “Wha’ makes ya think that, Omega? Maybe we can help?” The way he spoke was the same as last time, non-threatening. He actually seemed interested.

Moving her hands to her elbows, seeking some type of warmth, Y/N finds not having to search for the courage to answer this time, “I uh, was helping a wolf from my pack that was put in his place last night in the unclaimed territory. And, this is crazy, but I smelled it from his wounds. Who ever taught him a lesson is my mate. I did some research, your pack was on patrol last night. So, here I am.”

During what felt like a speech, the males look at each other with wide eyes. The brunette turns to speak, his mouth agape for a moment. However before he can say anything, a tall, lean figure is hurdling through the gates behind them, that wonderful scent following him. His eyes are wide, taking in as much as they can, searching. “Where is..”

Before he can finish, the men move aside, and their eyes land on each other. Y/N’s eyes are just as wide now, wind rustling around them, pushing his magnificent scent to her, and hers to him. She stands in awe as the man with umber colored, shoulder length hair, strides towards her quickly. Stopping inches from her chest, he’s a head length taller than her. Quipping her head up to him, her eyes meeting his glassy emerald eyes, their chests heaving, trying to pull each other’s scents in as much as possible.

He is the one to break the silence, “My omega? How’d ya find meh little one?”

Y/N’s heart stutters at her title coming from his lips and the sound of his scruff voice, “Doesn’t matter right now, my Alpha. My name is Y/N. I- I can’t believe I found you.” She’s about to burst, tears welling in her eyes.

The gorgeous man dips down closer to her face, canting to her ear, hand reaching up to push her smooth hair behind it, sparks darting when his fingers danced over her cheek, and just about purring,“‘M Harry, but yeh can call meh Alpha.”

• • • • •

His day started as all others, pulling himself from his lonely bed, wishing he could stay and go back to sleep. There, in his dreams, he was with his Omega. As much as he wanted to go searching for her, it wasn’t quite that desperate yet. His mother and him had decided if he hadn’t found his mate by 25, he could go searching for her. But only for six months, then he would have to settle for an omega that was good enough.

But no one would be good enough for him, besides her. She had only started coming to him in his dreams a few months ago. Before that, he could only think of what she looked or smelled like. When sleeping, he could see her, smell her, touch her. But her face was always fleeting his memory after the first few moments of being awake.

He felt bad he hadn’t completely relieved his mother of her duties. Neither an Alpha or a Luna were meant to rule alone, a perfect balance of each other. The exact reason he had yet to become Alpha, but he couldn’t settle on some omega he knew wasn’t his. Not yet, not until he had to. Though Harry saw the years practically multiplying on his mother since his step-father died. However the light had started coming back to her since she relieved more duties to Harry.

Getting ready for the day, he felt scattered and unfocused. Only one thing on his mind. Mate. He thought it could be his rut announcing itself, he hadn’t had one for maybe five months, when he had one every three usually. Unfortunately for him, he still had duties to attend to for the time being. He couldn’t lay in bed all day dreaming of silken hair and skin, getting himself off.

Leaving his chambers, drifting over to the meeting room, where his mother, himself, and their closest confidants met weekly. He wasn’t much interested in the conversation, as most of it was repeated information from last week. As it comes to a close, he has a feeling he can’t explain.

“Niall, Louis, can ya guys run perimeter guard fo’ the day? With the location of that brainless wolf from last night unknown, I want security tight, yeh? And I’ll take ya’s spot training for the day” The two men nod without question, Harry not even needing his Alpha voice, the men trusting him.

“Harry, I don’t think that wolf will come here, he probably whimpered home.” His mother tries to reason. Anne had been trying to let Harry have more power over the years. He practically ran the pack at this point and she was just a figurehead, but she gave her opinion when she felt he needed guidance.

He felt bad going against what his mother was thinking, but he had taken so much stress off her over the years, he wanted her to trust him. “I just have a feeling mum. Ya’ve put this much confidence in meh so far, yeh? This is un-disruptive and not puttin’ anyone in danger. Just for today.” Harry speaks with finality. Anne knows he’s right. No one will get hurt, and their only other assignment was helping with training possible future guards.

“Right, lads. Yeh know where ta find meh in tha trainin’ grounds, watching’ over those pups.” Harry says, after a moment of silence and acceptance of his previous statement, with a smirk. If those young alphas knew he was referring to them as pups, they would loose their ever-loving mind, and the thought of them wanting to even attempt to grapple with him.

The day was monotonous, besides a few interesting scrimmages between the young wolves learning to fight before him. He wasn’t usually in the training field, so he knew the pups in front of him were trying to show off. The training field was at the corner of the large clearing that contained their pack house, which looked small from the vantage point he had at the moment. With expansive woods behind them, and the tall log fencing on the side, they were close to the entry road. Given, it was a good few thousand feet away, he could still see Niall and Louis open the gate and step out.

That was enough to intrigue him, but not enough for him to wander over. The wind graced his face, as it had numerous times today. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the moment with the sound of the leaves rustling behind him. Until he was absolutely smacked in the face with the most luscious smell. So much stronger than in his dreams. His only thought was mate.

Without so much as a comment to the other men helping train, he took off sprinting, almost as fast as his wolf would be, his feet taking him closer to what he hoped to be his Omega. Sliding around the corner, out of the gate, all he could see was the backs of his men, but the delicious smell as strong as ever.

He begun to speak, but before barely getting any words out, the men moved aside. Set in front of him was the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes on. Her opulent hair falling over her shoulders, her crimson jumper contrasting her skin beautifully, and a perfect pout on her full lips. Eyes shining like they were full of stars for him.

He doesn’t remember making the decision to stride up to her, barely a book thickness way from her voluptuous chest. His Omega pitches her head up to him. Harry breaks the silence that seems to go on forever, but was only a few seconds. “My omega? How’d ya find meh little one?”

A beat later, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, her voice, almost at a whisper, “Doesn’t matter right now, my Alpha. My name is Y/N. I- I can’t believe I found you.”

He keens at the sound of his title coming off her tongue, it never sounded so perfect before. Harry can’t help but lean closer, her scent becoming strong and heavy, and he surely can’t stop himself from lightly running his fingers over her cheek, electricity shooting between them at the softest of touch, and brushing her hair behind her ear with a rumble of, “‘M Harry, but yeh can call meh Alpha.”

fin.

#Harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #Alpha!harry #harry styles one shot #Harry styles blurb #harry styles series #Alpha!harry styles #Werewolf Harry styles #Harry styles Drabble #harry styles writing #Harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #wolfrry fic #wolfrry #my writing

[offictionandfandoms]

✎﹏﹏ Rumors Pt. 3

Previous

✑ Pairings: Eddie Munson x f!reader

✑ Word Count: 1074

✑ Requested: Yes/No

✑ Warnings: just pure fluff. Also probably not canon Eddie but…it’s too cute for me to care.

✑ Authors Note: This is the end :( I hope you guys like this bit of fluff and the entire mini-series as a whole. Thank you, again, so much for supporting it and loving it as much as you did. I’m still flabbergasted at how many people enjoyed it. Please know my requests are always open for other series/fics! I’ll be working on some other requests I already have in the meantime.

✑ Gif isn’t mine!

���So what are we going to do?”

Eddie speaking had pulled Y/N back to reality, one where they were sitting next to each other in the cafeteria, hands intertwined on the tabletop, and everyone in the world- well, the school at least- being able to see how happy they both were. /Together/, as they were meant to be.

“Hmmm. What do you mean?” Her cheeks flushed pink as she was caught not paying attention, most of her attention being on playing with the rings on her boyfriend's fingers, which now held an additional one she just purchased for him. It had been a month since everything happened, with them breaking up, and it was all going amazing. As amazing as could be expected when you lived in Hawkins, Indiana and there wasn’t shit to do around town. Which was why she were wanting to go on a trip-

“Well someone spent all their savings on ice cream,” Eddie teased, the cute smile she had fallen in love with forming on his face. It stretched from ear to ear and directly to Y/N’s heart.

“Shove it, I was sad,” she laughed, pulling her hands away from his grip. He wasted no time in grabbing them back, pulling them to his lips to place a few little kisses to her skin. Her heart fluttered at the contact and she leaned closer, almost sitting on his lap. But the principal was still watching them closely and getting expelled wasn’t on her to-do list.

“I know, I know. But now we have to plan something else.”

Her head bobbed in agreement as she fell silent, thinking over all their options. Eddie, her sweet and dedicated boy, hadn’t spent a dime of his savings, much to his credit. Not even when the new Metallica album dropped.

“Why don’t you guys just stay here?”

“Henderson, we can’t just stay-” Eddie started to chastise his young best friend, even throwing a peanut in his direction. But Y/N cut him off, squeezing the one hand she still held in between hers.

“Why not?” The look Eddie gave her was incredulous, but she pressed on, a wide grin passing over her features, “Think about it, babe. We have money to spend on our favorite foods, favorite movies, favorite albums. I say we could even host a DND night. We don’t have to go anywhere to have fun, we can do it right here.”

At the mention of DND night, Dustin poked his head back into the conversation, his grin melting Y/N’s heart. He had quickly become like a little brother to her, much to Eddie’s pleasure. “I vote for a DND night, personally.”

“Henderson!” Eddie snapped, though the crinkle by his eyes was enough to tell Y/N that it was out of love. As he turned back to his girlfriend with a warning glare towards his little buddy, Eddie leaned in closer, lowering his voice an octave, probably to avoid another eavesdropper.

She matched him as she leaned in, squinting her eyes playfully at his antics. If she tilted her head just right, their noses would brush up against each other. It was tempting, especially since it would give a great opening to kiss him. But when her eyes flickered over to the teachers table and she saw their good ole principal eyeing them, she withheld.

“We don’t have to do that. We can figure something out. I know you were looking forward to getting out of town.” As he spoke, his thumb gently caressed the inside of her wrist, sending her pulse into a frenzy. His touch never ceased to make her feel like she was on top of the world.

“I’m certain, babe. I was just looking forward to spending time with you— I don’t care where we are. A campaign night sounds perfect if you're okay with that.” As she spoke, his eyes had dropped towards her lips, his tongue sneaking out to run over the skin of his. But the second she stopped, he stared directly into her eyes, a serious composure taking over his expression.

“You know what sounds perfect?” While he was asking her this, she could feel his hands dip away from her arms, moving to slide around her waist instead. She hummed in response, waiting for him to answer his own question while she leaned closer, not wanting to miss whatever he said. She would do anything to make him happy, even if it meant skinny dipping in Lover’s Lake again.

She soon felt her body leaving the hard plastic seat of the cafeteria table and being replaced with the warmth of his lap, “You.” The kiss he gave her was quick, nothing satisfactory for either of them, and she was quickly trying to lean in for another, onlookers be damned.

But the sound of “Ms. Y/L/N! Mr. Munson!” booming across the room had them both falling apart in a fit of loud laughter, loud enough to put Jason’s goons to shame.

Typically, Y/N would never do anything to get in trouble. And if she ever was in trouble, she would take her punishment with a nod and an apology.

But nothing about her relationship with Eddie Munson had been typical thus far and it wasn’t about to start. So she made quick work of grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him behind her as she zig-zagged through students and out into the hallway, the call of their names lost as the cafeteria door swung shut.

They didn’t stop running until they made it to the drama room, both doubling over in laughter until Y/N’s side hurt and she had to sit in Eddie’s DND throne for relief.

Eddie was still laughing as he pointed at her, hand swaying up and down as he motioned over her entire body, “You look good there.”

“Oh, so I’m no longer banished?” She taunted, leaning forward to rest her elbows against the table without a worry in her mind. She knew they would definitely be expelled once they were found, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not right now, not with Eddie leaning on his own elbows to get closer to her, their lips just centimeters apart.

And right before they connected, he whispered words that Y/N would hear ringing in her head for weeks to come: “It’s hard to keep my queen from her rightful throne.”

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #eddie munson

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me - part six

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, one (1) drunk asshole, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 5.9k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday!! it's August here in the real world but it's Valentine's Day in the Mar[r]y Me universe, so what will these two do surrounded by love and pink hearts? can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts!

part six - pancakes

God, I made a mistake.

Bradley has suffered through five days of the same thought on a constant loop. His brain started up the second he walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Only getting short reprieves when he had to fly. Even being asleep wasn’t safe; Mary had been consuming his nights, wonderful dreams of being with her intermixed with bad dreams of having to watch her with another man.

He felt like he was living one of those nightmares for the last three songs, watching Mary dance and giggle with some guy in his twenties.

I should be the one making her laugh. My hands should be on her hips, not his.

He cursed Natasha for dragging them to this stupid Valentine’s Day speed-dating event. Except, the speed dating isn’t actually speed dating; it’s some sort of convoluted speed dancing.

As announced by the host, there are only two rules:

Every person must wear the wristband they received upon entry; the wristbands correspond to your relationship status, so respect the color code system.

If you’re dancing, you have to dance with a new person for each song.

“Unless you’re really hitting it off with your dance partner.” DJ Socket had added with a wink before starting the night off with a horrible remixed version of My Funny Valentine.

Natasha, Callie, and Mary had laughed at the bad song choice before throwing back a shot of tequila and shimmying their way to the dance floor, pink wristbands glowing under the disco ball.

According to the event flyer that had been spammed in the group chat for the last two weeks, a pink wristband meant single and ready to mingle.

Bradley watches as the infant with a bad haircut tries to hit on Mary to what he thinks is a Justin Bieber song, absentmindedly playing with his own wristband. White. Here for fun, not to flirt.

He’s having a terrible time.

“Rooster. Rooster? Bradley!”

The use of his real name snaps him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, Bob, what was that?”

“I asked if you were okay. You don’t look great.”

He feels his heart clench a little bit. He’s always had a soft spot for the bespectacled man, Bob paying attention to small things that others rarely caught. Though even a blind person could see the way Bradley is staring at Mary, the pining radiating beyond the two high-top tables the Daggers had claimed as theirs.

“Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long week.”

Bob raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, but Harvard interrupts him before he can investigate further.

“It’s weird seeing the girls in dresses instead of their coveralls.”

“I’m just wondering how they convinced Callie to wear heels. Omaha practically had to bribe her to wear something other than her Vans to our wedding.” Fritz says, his red wristband - taken and in love - flashing when he takes a sip of his bright pink drink. “God, these drink specials are awful! This is the last time Phoenix gets to choose where we go.”

The boys laugh as his face twists in disgust. Natasha is great at many things, choosing a good bar is not one of them.

“We should have let Jake plan; he found that complex with the mini golf and everything. That was so much fun!” Aaron adds before turning to Javy. “Where is Jake? I thought he was coming.”

Javy shrugs. “He was supposed to be here, but he texted me and said he wasn’t going to make it. Something came up, apparently. He said everything was fine, so I’ll check on him tomorrow. Make sure he’s all good.”

“Mary looks really good.”

Bradley stiffens, his mood dropping from happy back down to pissed off as steam pours out of his ears. She doesn’t just look good. She looks amazing. The light green, satiny material of her dress is hugging her figure just right, showing off her curves in the most delicious way. The slit up her leg showing off the thighs he dreams about getting his hands on again.

She looks gorgeous.

But Harvard doesn’t get to say that about his girl.

She’s not your girl. You fucked up.

“There she is! Can I get you a drink, ma’am?” Harvard stands up, holding his bar stool steady while Mary climbs on, scooting it in when she’s settled.

“If you’re going up, I’ll take a water, please.” She smiles at him, cheeks flushed from dancing.

“You want anything stronger to go with that water?”

“Vodka sprite, if it’s not too much of a bother.”

“You got it, sweetheart; anything for my new backseater!” Harvard flashes his toothpaste commercial-ready smile at her before making his way through the crowd to the bar. Him and his pink wristband quickly getting lost in the masses.

“I missed something. Backseater?” Javy asks.

Bradley watches her laugh and lean on the table, grabbing a chip after Aaron pushes the basket toward her. “He’s just trying to be funny. We’re both headed up to Lemoore next week - I’m helping out on some repairs, and he’s doing some sort of mentor program? I don’t know exactly. Anyway, Cyclone suggested we drive together since we’re staying at the same hotel. I told Brigham he’s driving since he insisted on getting this godawful 30-foot pickup truck, which makes me his temporary backseater.”

“Make sure you don’t eat anything before riding with him, or you’ll paint the windshield.” Omaha jokes.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please. If I didn’t hurl after a greenhorn took me up and executed one very poor barrel roll before getting himself grounded, I think I can handle Harvard’s driving.”

“You’ve flown?”

“Was it an FA-18?”

“How do you fuck up a barrel roll?”

“Did you like it?”

Questions are hurled at her from every direction, all the boys interested in the fact that their favorite mechanic had been airborne in the backseat of a fighter jet before they knew her.

“I did like it!”

Bradley’s heart warms a bit when she answers his question first.

“It was an FA-18, and I think we technically hit Mach-1, but my brain has burned the trauma of that hop from my memory. It was fun until that bad maneuver because when I say greenhorn, I mean green. Like as fresh as you can possibly be.” She shutters, only partially joking. “But I didn’t throw up, and that’s a major point of pride for me.”

“It’s only because you hadn’t eaten yet that day.”

The warmth disappears, again, when she smacks Brigham’s arm after he puts her drinks down. “I told you that in confidence! And I think it still counts because I’m a civilian and have done none of the training you guys do.”

“How did you even get permission to fly?” Javy questions, stealing a sip of her water, grinning at her when she glares.

“When I was in Florida, I got close with some of the higher-ups, and one of them arranged for me to go on a simple flight so I could see what it’s like. It was really sweet of him!”

“Who did you sweet talk into getting in a jet?”

“He sweet-talked me! Actually, it was more like he manipulated me. It came up that I’d never been on a flight - which is totally normal for an engineer, by the way - and he egged me on until I agreed to go up.”

“Oh my god, you got suckered into a ride with a flight school newbie? Who managed that?”

“I don’t know if you guys know him. I don’t think he was in Pensacola when you were going through flight school, but it was Admiral-”

“Hey, baby, wanna dance?”

Her face changes immediately, annoyance spreading quickly. “No. I’ve already told you I don’t. Leave me alone.”

“Oh, c’mon, you know you want this-”

“The lady told you no. I suggest you listen to her before we make you listen.” Omaha threatens from his position across the table. Bradley is happy that Neil spoke up before him because he wouldn’t have been so nice about it.

The pushy asshole looks around the table and decides not to press his luck after seeing eight men puffed up, ready to defend their friend.

“What a dick! He had a red wristband on, and he still tried to hit on you!”

“Welcome to being a woman, Mickey. Doesn’t matter if you’ve told them no or if they have a partner. Men will be gross and overbearing if they think it’ll benefit them.”

She sinks back in her chair, sipping her drink and sending a small smile to the boys in thanks. The group disburses a bit, most joining Nat and Callie on the dance floor, leaving Mary sitting with Fritz, Bradley, and Bob.

“Hey, speaking of gross and overbearing, did you hear the rumor that Admiral Cain is coming to the program review next week?”

It perks her back up; she excitedly leans forward, happy to talk about something else.

“Oh! That’s not a rumor, Fritz. That’s 100% true. He’ll be presenting his case for increasing unmanned drone research. But he’s going first on Tuesday, and then he’s back in Washington that same afternoon, so thankfully, we’ll only have to deal with him for a few hours.”

“Thank god, I had to deal with him for a little bit when I was at Norfolk, and he was worst. I know drones are getting more popular for high-risk missions, but they’ll never be able to fully replace pilots.” Billy clinks his bottle against Mary’s glass when she holds it up, swallowing the last of his beer. “You’ll have to excuse me; it looks like my husband wants me to dance with him.”

Bradley watches Mary stare longingly at the dance floor, her eyes following the happy couple dance in perfect sync with each other.

If you hadn’t messed up, that could be the two of you out there.

“So, what parts of program review do you have to sit in on?”

Mary turns, a soft smile on her face - Bradley knows her soft spot for Bob matches his own. Both of them protective over the younger man who cares so much, yet so quietly.

“I have to be there for almost all of it. I’m presenting a few sections, plus I have to do a shop tour and demo, which will be uber fun.” She rolls her eyes, knowing how some admirals like to knit-pick at how a shop is run and organized. “All my free time this week will be finishing my slides and polishing my presentation.”

“Wow, on top of helping with Lemoore’s repairs? You’re gonna be busy these next two weeks.”

“Very busy, but we’ve already done the repairs I’m helping with down here, so theirs should go much smoother! But I'm genuinely excited for program review because I’ll get to see some people I worked with in Florida! I think I’m going to try and poach a few of them that I really miss.”

“You’re gonna steal your friends to work for you?” Bradley regrets the question when he sees her face falter for a split second, realizing his tone wasn’t as joking as intended.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it. They’re really smart and talented, plus it’d be nice to work with them again.”

The relief that breezes through his chest at her grin and kind tone quickly disappears when Harvard pops up and pulls her toward the dance floor.

“Hang- hang on!” She giggles, turning to Bob. “Would you mind keeping an eye on my purse while Brigham steps on my toes to bad 90s love songs?”

Bob’s, “No problem.” overpowers Harvard’s protests of, “I’m not gonna step on your foot again!”

She pecks his cheek, leaving a faint pink stain behind as she follows the Ohio man onto the dance floor. And for several songs, Bradley's stomach twists as he watches his two friends dance pressed close together.

“Why don’t you go dance with her?”

“She doesn’t want to dance with me.”

Bob scoffs. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Bradley, what happened with you two?”

He doesn’t answer; just keeps fiddling with the label on his beer and watching the dance floor. The two sit in uncomfortable silence for the first time in their friendship.

“I fucked up.” He confesses everything to Bob. The night on her couch, their interruption, the tiff just a few days ago. He doesn’t spare any detail, no feelings. “I still don’t know why I didn’t just let her explain! Even if I was mad that she was ignoring me, she had her reasons - she wouldn’t do something like that for no reason!”

Bob is stunned. He doesn’t know what to say to comfort his friend. None of the group’s theories had even been close to the reality of what happened.

“You can’t tell anyone what I just told you, not even Natasha!” Bradley is borderline frantic. “You’re the second person I’ve told, and I don’t know if Mary has told anyone, but I don’t want everyone knowing. I don’t want what happened to be the talk of the group.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Bradley. Not even Nat. But I do get bragging rights when the two of you finally get together.”

“That’s not gonna happen. I messed up too much, man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

He looks where Bob is pointing, watching as Harvard twirls away with a pretty redhead, leaving Mary dancing by herself. They make eye contact, and he can see the gears in her brain working. She turns around, hips swinging hypnotically, and he loses his breath when she peeks over her shoulder at him. Bradley’s heart soars when she wiggles a finger at him.

She’s calling me over. Maybe I didn’t totally fuck this up.

His joy is short-lived. The same red wristband asshole as before getting in her space, trying to grab her ass as she pushes him away. Bradley practically falls out of his chair to get to her.

“Get away from me!” Mary pushes the stranger’s hands off and stumbles back from the force, colliding with Bradley’s chest as he comes to help.

He steps forward, angling his body to shield her as she tucks herself into his side. “She’s told you to leave her alone at least twice now. Walk away before we have a problem.”

The sleazy man rolls his eyes, “Whatever, man.”

“No, not “whatever,” man.” Bradley steps forward, disregarding Mary tugging on his arm. Her pleas for him to stop falling on deaf ears. “You’re going to apologize to her.”

“For what? The fat bitch probably liked it. She’s practically begging for it in that dress.”

Bradley doesn’t even think. He lunges, ignoring Mary’s yell for him to stop and taking the asshole down with one punch. He doesn’t get a second one, security interfering and escorting all three out.

The rest of the Daggers make their way outside, everyone awkwardly huddled together as Mary assures the bouncers that she is safe to leave with Bradley, that he’s her friend who was just protecting her from the other man’s unwanted advances.

She’s mad when she joins them. A quiet anger that's palpable, making them all stay quiet instead of joking around like usual.

“Thanks for planning this, Nat. It was really fun until about five minutes ago. I’ll text you about dinner.” She says to the girls, giving Bob a small smile when he hands over her clutch. “Bradley is going to drive me home, but you guys should keep having fun. Brigham, let me know when you want to leave tomorrow, and I’ll see the rest of you when I get back from Lemoore.”

Her clipped tone and her heels furiously clicking on the sidewalk are the only physical indicators of her anger. The group watches her go, stunned. In the year since they were introduced to Mary, it’s the only time they’ve seen her get close to losing her cool.

They had seen her defend herself against misogynistic pilots, making them feel foolish without even raising her voice. They watched her bite her tongue when admirals talked down to her because of her age, letting Mav or Cyclone handle it. In the past eleven months, they had witnessed her ability to handle difficult situations with poise and grace.

But tonight was too much.

After having to deal with yet another demeaning asshole and Bradley’s rash, unwanted heroics, the rage simmering below the surface of her skin was threatening to finally break through.

Bradley follows at a slower pace, keeping an eye on her but giving her space to breathe. He startles at someone grabbing his shoulder, turning with wide eyes to find Bob with a determined look on his face.

“Take her home and apologize; let her explain before you explain your side, okay?” Bradley nods, giving a small smile to his friend. “It’s all gonna be fine; you are made for each other. You can tell me all about how right I am tomorrow morning.”

He makes his way to the car, unlocking and opening the door for Mary, the tiny bit of hope from Bob’s pep talk disappearing when he realizes that she’s giving him the silent treatment. Climbing into the front seat and ignoring the hand he offers, closing the door herself and choosing to stare out the passenger window when Bradley sides into the Bronco.

The drive to her house is quiet; the only sound is the oldies station Bradley turns on in hopes of getting Mary to talk to him. The closer they get to their destination, the more he goes from sad to annoyed.

I was just trying to help. She doesn’t need to ignore me.

They’re both fuming by the time he pulls into the driveway. She slips out of the car, hoping he’ll just go home, but he’s following behind her to the house. One step over the threshold, and he can’t take it anymore.

“Are you gonna stop ignoring me, or should I just go home?”

He watches her shoulders stiffen and feels his stomach drop her eerily calm expression. “I don’t know. Are you actually going to listen to me? Or are you just going to tell me that we should just forget this happened, too?”

“Don’t put that on all on me! This isn’t all my fault! You ignored me for an entire month!”

“Yes! Yes, I did!” She slams her hand on her kitchen island. “And then, when I tried to explain, you didn’t let me say anything! You just said we should forget everything that happened and move on! So I tried to forget! I tried to respect your wishes! But tonight, all you could do was watch me dance with other men!”

His mouth drops open; he didn’t realize she had noticed.

“Yeah! I noticed - you pilots have all the subtly of an elephant in a firework shop with its tail on fire! It’s one or the other, Bradley! We either forget what happened and we see other people, or we talk about what happened and go from there! There’s no in-between option where you get to be upset whenever I flirt with a man that’s not you! So what’s it gonna be? Are we moving on, or are we having a conversation?”

He can’t get words to come out. He knows what he wants, but he can’t speak.

“Well, Bradley?”

Say something, dumbass! She’s not going to wait forever.

She scoffs, rubbing her hands over her face. “I’m going to shower. If you’re still here when I’m done, we’ll talk. If you’re gone, well, then I have my answer.”

He’s frozen in her dining room, wincing back to reality at her bedroom door slamming shut. His phone is ringing before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Rooster? Everything okay?”

“I think I fucked up.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “We fought, man. She noticed I was watching her tonight and yelled at me for not letting her talk last week.”

“Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m in her living room.”

“You’re still there? She didn’t kick you out?”

“She said if I’m still here when she’s done showering, we’ll talk about everything.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Bradley.” Bob’s eye-roll is audible on the other end. “Sit down and wait for her to finish showering so you can talk. If she wanted you to leave, she would have no problem sending you packing.”

“You think?”

“She was two seconds from throwing a wrench at my head last week, and I’m her favorite.”

“Well, I don’t know about favor-”

“I am. Now, sit down, shut up, and wait for her.”

The line clicks, and he decides to listen to the advice, depositing his wallet and keys on her entryway table before sitting on her couch. Sinking into the middle cushion, he thinks about the last time he’d been on this piece of furniture.

“You’re so hard.” He’s not sure why she’s surprised. She has to know she’s had him on the verge of an erection since she opened her door this morning.

“You’ve been pressed against me for two hours in these tiny little shorts with no bra on, and you smell good.” He shrugs, feeling sheepish as he explains what got him going.

“Bradley..” The way she says his name borders on a moan, and he can’t help the noise he makes when she pulls his hair.

If she does that again, I’m going to cum.

He grabs her ass and pulls her as close as he can, brushing his other hand up her thigh and boldly dipping into the leg of her pajama shorts, enjoying the scalloped edge of her panties. Their lips brush, and he’s about to move his hand to the gusset of her underwear - he needs to know how wet she is for him - when they’re interrupted.

Between reliving that moment and crafting his apology, he doesn’t hear the shower turn off or her footsteps coming down the hall, only noticing her when she sits in the chair furthest from him.

“I’m sorry-” They start to apologize at the same time.

“I’d like to go first if you don’t mind?” She requests, taking a deep breath when he nods in agreement. “I want to start by apologizing for the last month. It was wrong of me to kick you out that night and then ignore you for a month, and I wish I hadn’t done it.”

“Why did you?”

“Because I got scared. That night… I never do things like that. I never make the first move or act that bold. So the fact that I just climbed on your lap like that - without thinking about it or second-guessing myself - freaked me out. By the time I got Annie back to sleep, I had completely psyched myself out, and I was convinced you didn’t actually want me.”

“That’s- I- did I give any indication that I didn’t want you?” He sputters the question, unsure how she could think that.

“It’s nothing you did, Bradley. It’s all on me, my insecurities. Men rarely - if ever - have had the same… enthusiasm that you did. You were great; this is a me problem.”

“I don’t understand.” He leans forward, wanting to get closer without crossing the boundary she set with her seat choice. “If everything was so great, what went wrong?”

“I’m fat, Bradley.”

He sits up straight, shocked at her words. What does that have to do with anything?

“I’m sorry, I still don’t get what the problem is.”

“I know you don’t understand what it’s like to be a woman, but please believe me when I tell you it’s hard. People are constantly policing and judging your body. Men will just tell you what they think of your body, what they think is wrong with it - unprovoked. And it’s even worse when you’re fat.” She leans back, hugging a pillow to her chest. “I know you didn’t do any of that. But I’ve been fat since I was a kid, so I’ve heard it all for years. And not just men, but from family too. It’s hard to shake those experiences, to ignore the insecurities and just enjoy the moment.”

They sit in silence for a minute, Mary refusing to make eye contact while Bradley tries to figure out his next move.

“Can I come over there?”

The question surprises her, but she nods. His choice to kneel in front of her is another surprise; he can tell from her eyebrows reaching her hairline.

“I’m gonna take this, okay?” He gently tugs the pillow from her hands, tossing it on the couch so there’s nothing between them. When Bradley sees her shirt, his breath hitches in his throat.

She’s wearing his sweatshirt.

“Sorry,” she says shyly, noticing his stare. “I’ve been wearing it to bed; I promise I’ll wash it.”

And as much as he wants to linger in the revelation that she’s been sleeping in his clothes, he pushes through.

“Mary, I’m going to be very honest with you because I need you to understand how much I wanted you that night. Sitting there with you in my lap? That’s the hardest I’ve ever been; I think about it all the time. How warm and soft you were.” He slips his hands into hers. “And I know what you look like. I like the way you look. I like everything about you. Everything. Even the things you don’t like about yourself. You’re so gorgeous.”

He wipes her cheek, brushing a tear away.

“This past month hasn’t changed how I feel about you. I still want you. I’ve never not wanted you. I’ve had a crush on you since the moment Danielle dragged you through the front door of the Hard Deck.”

“Bradley…”

“Not done, still my turn.” He leans up, getting closer to her to get his point across. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to fix this sooner. I was trying to give you the space you wanted, but that was a mistake. After the first week, I should have told you how I was feeling, what I wanted.”

“What do you want now?” Her voice is tiny, and his heart breaks at how uncertain she sounds.

“Still you, honey. I know I said we should forget what happened, but I don’t want to forget. I want to do that again without getting interrupted this time. I want to take you out on a date. I want you. If you’ll have me.”

He watches Mary wrestle with her thoughts, her mouth opening and closing, not sure how to say what she’s thinking. “Just tell me, Mary, whatever it is. I want you to be honest with me.”

“I want that too. I want you. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for it right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you been flirting with me?” She nudges him back, scooting forward in her chair so her knees brush his chest.

He doesn’t understand the question but answers anyway, wrapping his hands around her legs, stroking his thumbs over her soft skin. “Since that night we met, I didn’t do too good of a job since you spent the evening playing darts with Jake, but that’s how long.”

“That was last January. You’ve been flirting with me for an entire calendar year. And I’m so oblivious that I didn’t even realize you were interested until you were grabbing my ass and moaning against my mouth.” She rubs her face. “So I just need some time to process this because I never thought this - us -could be an option.”

“Okay, how much time are you thinking? How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know… there’s no free time. I’m gone this week, and next week is program review and prepping you guys for deployment. Then you’re in the middle of the ocean for two months.”

“Doesn’t really leave a lot of time for us, does it?” He jokes, squeezing her calves. “We’ll be back the first week of May. There’ll be a few days of debriefing, but then I’m on leave. Why don’t we grab dinner that Sunday? It can be as friends or as something more, whatever you want - whatever you’re ready for at that point. How does that sound?”

“You’re okay with waiting that long?”

“Mariella, it’s been a year, and nothing has changed since I saw you in that red dress. A few extra weeks where we’re just friends? That’s nothing if it means you’re comfortable.”

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.”

“Stop it. This isn’t all on you; I haven’t been the best either.” Bradley’s voice is firm, making sure she’s not placing the entire blame on herself. “We’ll work on it. We’re smart people; we can figure it out.”

“Thank you for being so understanding. I really am sorry about how I acted.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Feeling lighter than they have in weeks, they look at each other and laugh when Mary yawns, her face scrunching up.

“Okay, honey, I think it’s time to get you to bed.” He stands, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll call you when you’re at Lemoore, okay? We’ll talk about our days, and you can complain about Harvard.”

“Why would I complain about Brigham?” She blinks up at him, her eyebrows creasing after a second. “Wait! Are you saying goodbye? You can’t drive home right now; it’s too late!”

He tries to argue but is cut off by her finger pointing at the clock, the two hands telling him it’s almost three in the morning. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“C’mon.” She pulls on his hand, leading him down the hall.

“What are we doing?”

“Going to bed?” She squeaks when he abruptly stops, tugging her off balance.

“Mary, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Her face is baffled. “Bradley, you’re too tall; it won’t be comfortable. We can share my bed; we’re adults. We can handle it.”

His heart thumps. He wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with her, but he’s afraid of how his body might react to being next to her all night.

“Mary, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t. I also want you to be comfortable, so if you don’t want to share, I’ll take the couch, and you take my bed.”

“But-”

“This is the whole communication thing we just talked about. Believe me when I say that sharing my king-sized bed with you for one night won’t make me uncomfortable.”

Bradley stares into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. “Okay, lead the way then, Vertucci.”

It’s awkward for a moment in her bedroom, the two of them trying to navigate this new situation together. But after some blushing and a few stuttered words, they figure it out. He’s just finished brushing his teeth when they discover that Bradley’s preferred side of the bed matches hers.

“Two peas in a pod.” He jokes as he starts to climb into bed, heart fluttering at the bashful smile on her face.

“What are you doing?”

He freezes, covers pulled back with his knee raised. “Uhhh… getting into bed?”

“Not like that, you’re not.” His wide eyes must give away his confusion and panic because she continues. “Bradley, you are not climbing into my bed, which has nice fresh sheets, with those clothes you wore to the club. God knows what’s on those chairs we sat on.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“You are wearing underwear, right?” He nods, feeling baffled by how this night has progressed. “Then strip, you’re sleeping in your undies.”

Bradley stands there, looking at her snuggled under her quilt, bathed in the soft light of her nightstand lamp, and still wearing his name on her arm. Based on how serious she looks, he’s pretty sure she’s unaware of how flirty her words sound. If she was any other woman, he would make an effort to flirt back, try his best to be sexy as he undresses. Turn it into a striptease.

But it’s Mary, and they just got back to a good place.

So he undresses how he does when he’s alone. Unbuttoning his black shirt methodically, taking note of how her breath hitches when he pulls the tight material off, but not doing anything about it. If he has any control over their situation, there will be plenty of opportunities in the future to make her lose her breath.

He does allow himself to make eye contact while he undoes his jeans, unable to pass up the chance to watch her watch him. He sees her scan his body, can see the hunger in her eyes, can hear the small gulp when she sees the waistband of his underwear appear. He stays steady, folding the pants and draping them over his shirt before slipping under the covers, keeping a respectful distance between them.

“Gonna turn the light out?”

She blinks at him as she processes the question, her eyes hazy from the late hour, and he thinks about how he would love to have this view every night for the rest of his life. He watches as she rolls over, eyes slipping down to the skin that’s exposed when she leans to turn the lamp off. She ends up closer when she rolls back towards him; he can feel the heat of her body radiating towards him.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Mary’s voice is soft, like being too loud will ruin the small bubble they’ve created for themselves. “Do you like pancakes?”

The question makes him think of his mom, how she used to make pancakes on special occasions and sometimes just because it was Tuesday. He never makes them for himself.

“They’re my favorite. Do you make good pancakes?”

“I make the best pancakes.” He can’t see her face, but he can hear her smile. “Night, Bradley.”

He mummers good night back, enjoying the way the mattress moves as she gets comfortable. The scent of her shampoo drifts over him, resurrecting the question that he’d been asking himself for a month.

“Mary? Can I ask you a question?” His voice is quiet, scared to ruin things but needing to know the answer.

She hums, “What’s up?”

“That night. If we hadn’t gotten interrupted, what do you think would have happened?” It’s quiet. He can hear her hands playing with the edge of the sheet, fingers nervously folding and unfolding the cotton. “I’m sorry, you don’t have-”

“No, it’s okay, Bradley.” A hand brushes his chest, warm fingers ghosting over his skin in search of his hand. She continues once their fingers are intertwined. “If we hadn’t been interrupted, we would have had sex. We would’ve made out for a while, and then I would have ridden you right there on the chaise.”

“Fuck…”

She makes a small noise of agreement. “I don’t know about after, though, if we would have had a better go of things that we have. It might have been worse, I’m not sure.”

“Can’t change the past. I’m just glad we’re fixing things now.”

“Me too.” Mary presses a small kiss to the tip of his fingers, squeezing his hand before rolling over. “Good night, Bradley; sleep well.”

“Night, Mary.”

I think I’m falling in love with you.

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fic tag | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

[punsmaster69]

25/DEC/20XX

wooooooooooooooo.

that day.

the one.

the twenty fifth.

the holiday.

if i list what everyone got from everyone, i'll be here all night, so just the most notable stuff.

got some new books. and socks. and a giant blanket. and a sweater.

i'm feeling very cozy.

frisk shrieked when they got one of those rock excavation kits from my bro.

(little known fact: frisk has an innate fascination with rocks.)

asgore gifted them an art kit.

alphys got them a mini salt lamp. they immediately licked it.

i got 'em a tungsten cube.

"Why are you so excited over a hunk of metal?"

"It's not a 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘬, it's a 𝘤𝘶𝘣𝘦."

"It's a hunk of metal."

"I'm gonna 'hunk' this at your face in a second."

"Do you WANT to kill me?!"

"No. But stop calling it a hunk of metal. It's a tungsten cube."

"Why do you care, anyway? It's MY cube, not yours."

"It's boring."

"Not to me."

"You underestimate my ability to find entertainment in shiny objects."

"Whatever. Suit yourself."

a lot of us had similar ideas, because flowey got a decent amount of (mostly dinosaur related) brick sets.

it's hard not to notice the pieces constantly strewn about flowey's half of their room.

walking over there's like a spike trap.

might be purposeful.

tori also got him some simulator game. he apparently already had the others in the series, so it makes sense.

papyrus has been using the same pots and pans for ages.

they're a bit charred and dented in places.

so, paps got gifted new cookware.

undyne got him utensils, and alphys got the pots.

tori gave him new oven mitts that don't have holes in them, unlike the previous pair.

i got him a giant puzzle cube. it's got so many rows.

it'll take him forever to solve.

he seems excited.

mettaton got him a robe, because apparently paps been admiring his. they match now.

got asgore some new teacups.

his current ones work fine, but didn't have many ideas outside of that. besides, when have extras hurt anyone?

undyne gifted him a book on slang and how to use it.

alphys' face dropped when she saw it.

"have fun with that."

(some kind of disgruntled lizard sound.)

alphys was ecstatic about receiving a manga she's wanted for ages from undyne.

tori got her some t-shirts. the one alphys liked the most is printed with a ramen brand.

undyne was gifted another giant foam sword.

that was the most exciting one for her.

they've been into collecting these specific stuffed animal things lately, so i got alphys and undyne matching ones.

mettaton had a similar gift, but luckily we didn't end up on the exact same stuffed animal.

something i'll probably regret was getting mtt a tub of glitter.

i know he likes the stuff, but i'm realizing now how this is probably ending.

already preparing to have glitter stuck to me every time he's in the vicinity.

...so not much will change, actually.

papyrus gave him a pillow custom-altered to have mettaton's branding on it.

giving mtt an mtt themed item...

he loved it. suggested that paps could help design products with him at some point.

alphys' gift was apparently done earlier, as it was an adjustment that enabled him to sign things without having to worry about carrying pens.

because his finger turns into the pen. kinda neat, honestly.

napstablook's headphone cord was looking a bit rough, so that's what i got them.

simple, but they smiled.

must not have been too bad a choice.

mettaton gifted tickets to a live band. they'll go together at some point.

me and tori, being old nerdy bookworms, exchanged exactly that: books.

frisk gave tori a cutesy handmade card, signed "by frisk and flowey but mostly frisk" on the back.

asgore gave her a necklace.

she stared at it and flatly thanked him before tucking it into her purse.

undyne gave a pie tin. self-explanatory.

probably exactly as expected, grillby was gotten a lot of various kitchenwares.

we have a lot of cooks in our friend group, i realize.

anyway, he was fond of the sturdy glass mugs i picked out for him.

that's the notable stuff gift-wise.

as for stockings, i went with chocolate bars for the other adults.

plain, simple, don't know anyone who doesn't like it.

safe bet, y'know?

got frisk a bag of those fake rock chocolates. the ones that look exactly like real rocks. they always talk about wanting to eat certain rocks; figured this would be a better alternative to shattering their teeth on real ones.

gave flowey a bag of fake coal.

"for being a butthead this year."

"Jokes on you, I'll gladly take this. And I'm STILL being the same next year!"

"didn't expect any different."

"besides, that's why you got coal last year too."

"Does it even count if it's chocolate coal? Not much of a punishment."

"it's the idea."

"The idea?"

"that you're eating rocks."

"Frisk is the one eating the rocks."

"you want real coal next year?"

"No!"

"Give that to Frisk instead."

"wouldn't be a punishment to them."

there's a lot of candy in each stocking, and most have forgotten who got what anyway.

the certain thing was everyone getting a bone in their stocking.

you know who from.

he gives 'em every year, this being no exception.

——

previous rock-paper-scissors decisions on who brings what dish collaborates now into a holiday feast aplenty.

or whatever jolly terminology i'm supposed to use to say: there was a lot of food. it was good. asgore overcooked the rolls a little. edible enough though.

——

somehow still full of energy, paps, mettaton and frisk are belting holiday songs.

napstablook's dj-ing for them.

undyne and alphys are chatting quietly beside the tree.

asgore is trying to help flowey put together that brick set.

his big hands aren't doing great with the small pieces.

grillby's trying to help him help better.

leaned against me, tori is chilling on the couch. i think she's convinced everyone else she's asleep, but under the blanket, her hand lightly tightens around mine every once in a while.

might be that she doesn't want to draw any attention to it.

...

i don't either, so i'll close my eyes too.

#undertale #journal #sans #papyrus #napstablook #alphys #undyne #toriel #frisk #asgore #grillby #flowey #mettaton #soriel #sans x toriel #christmas #gyftmas #holiday

[svfttachi]

Could I request Itachi and Sasuke with a s/o who isn’t Japanese in a modern au? Would they be open to the idea of one? Are they interested about the culture, language, food or history? How about the traditions and clothing and things like that? Would they share things about Japanese culture with them? Love your work :) 💜

wc — 597

type — uchiha i. x gn!reader, uchiha s. x gn!reader [ separate ]

tw — n/a

✎ i had a hard time writing up these headcanons, particularly with sasuke for some reason. don't get me wrong, it's an amazing request, but it took some time for me to come up with something. i hope you enjoy this regardless, and thank you for the request.

◃ to naruto series writings

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

❥ Uchiha Itachi is very open about learning your culture since he loves you so dearly.

❥ He uses your mini lessons as a way to spend quality time together, and he anticipates the next one after the previous one had just finished.

❥ It’s not just you teaching about your own culture, either.

❥ Every other day, you switch with Itachi, and he spends an ample amount of time diving into the deep history and origins of his Japanese culture (I headcanon that he’s a history lover).

❥ Everyday, the two of you also take turns in the kitchen, making your own cultural dishes for the other to try.

❥ Itachi definitely would enjoy eating all kinds of food that he wasn’t very used to, and he even compliments the dishes you make for him, making you feel a little special deep inside.

❥ Some days when you’re out in the town together, you’d point out some of the best cultural clothing stores you shop at, and this man doesn’t hesitate in grabbing your wrist to drag you to one of the shops.

❥ Honestly, I bet he’d be super picky about what to wear because Itachi would want to make sure he wears it properly and as displayed on the many mannequins in the store.

❥ You’d have to tell him that he looks rather dashing multiple times since he’s overthinking the entire ordeal.

❥ The language barrier isn’t very distracting or bothersome for either of you since you two have been learning each other’s language for quite some time before getting together to prepare for the future.

❥ In fact, you could say he’s quite proficient in your native language, but you’d still teach him all the little bits that foreigners don’t usually know about your language, such as slang and other unique phrases.

❥ All and all, Itachi goes into your relationship knowing he’d have to work hard to keep his and your own personal traditions alive throughout your time together.

❥ I feel like Uchiha Sasuke wouldn’t be as interested in understanding the differences between your cultures like Itachi, at first.

❥ It wasn’t until he saw you dressed in your beautiful cultural clothing that Sasuke grew an interest in learning, seeing as it differed drastically from what he was used to seeing.

❥ You’d find him looking up videos and pictures of the different cultural aspects that you grew up with including clothing, food, decorations, and traditions.

❥ One day, you would walk past your bedroom only to overhear Sasuke repeating different words from your native language along with a video playing on the laptop sitting in his lap.

❥ The curiosity from inside of you burst out of its shell when you went to ask him what he’s doing.

❥ With his usual, bored expression on his face, Sasuke would look up and be straight with his answer.

❥ He was learning how to speak your native language and make your favorite cultural foods.

❥ On a separate tab, you’d see a shop that you frequently bought your cultural clothing from which didn’t help the new smile coming to your face.

❥ Sasuke would share some small things about his culture with you, but he sees it as a way to get closer to your background since he didn’t have such a good childhood growing up.

❥ He takes it as far as bringing home food from restaurants that cooked your cultural foods or bags filled to the brim with multi styled clothes.

❥ Sasuke may not seem as interested in learning at the beginning, but if it means getting to grow closer to you, he’s willing to put in the effort.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

navigation ✧. ┊ rules

#*+:｡.｡ naruto series writings #anime #anime fanfic #anime fanfiction #anime headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanons #naruto #naruto shippuden #uchiha sasuke #uchiha #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #uchiha itachi #itachi #itachi uchiha #sasuke headcanons #itachi headcanons #sasuke x you #sasuke x reader #itachi x you #itachi x reader #fluff #culture #cultural #cultural differences #intercultural

[sequinsmile-x]

This is Our Place, We Make the Rules

A collection of mini-fics and one-shots of Hotchniss being domestic idiots in love.

Chapter 4 - Moving In

-x-

Hi friends!!

I am back from being away for a few days. Here is a little something I've pulled together for you. I drove for 8 hours today and my brain is very tired so I'm sorry it's short <3

Just a reminder that this series is non-sequential :)

I hope you enjoy this cute fluff on this Thursday evening!

-x-

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: None!

Read over on A03, or below the cut

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

Aaron turns to look at his girlfriend sitting next to him on the couch. A smile flicks across his face as he watches her lift her hand to her mouth, her teeth already poised to tear at her cuticles. He catches her hand halfway and links it through his, kissing her knuckles before their joint hands fall to his lap. 

“Sweetheart, it will be fine.”  

There were so many things Aaron loved about Emily. 

She was kind. Empathetic in a way he hadn’t known had existed before he knew her, the way she cared for the people she loved, as well as complete strangers, so strong he’d seen it be a detriment at times. 

She loved him so fiercely, with so much of herself, he often wondered how he’d ever lived without it. They’d been together for 12 months, their friendship after she returned from Paris turning into something he’s sure had always been there. Feelings that had lingered just under the surface, thrumming under their skin when the other was nearby, until they found the right time. 

Something they had both thought more than once had completely passed them by. 

The thing Aaron loved the most about her, the thing that made him fall even more in love with her as time went on, was how much she loved his son. 

Jack’s well-being had been her priority when they first got together. She’d pulled back from a kiss, a slightly dazed look in her eyes as she asked him about his son, about how he’d feel if they were together.

As if Jack hadn’t loved her longer than Aaron had himself. As if he didn’t seek her out every time he was sick or sad long before she’d become Aaron’s girlfriend, always begging his father to call her so she could come over and give him one of her ‘magic’ hugs. 

“You can’t just say that, honey,” she says, biting her lower lip as she shakes her head, “This is a big deal. It would mean him moving from his home.” 

They had recently started to discuss living together officially. For all intents and purposes, they’d actually been living together for as long as they’d been together. Aaron couldn’t remember the last time they’d spent a night apart. His closet was, more than, half full of her clothes, and her things, her favourite books and a photo of her, JJ and Penelope, had made its way over to the apartment he’d once only shared with his son. 

He knew, that if he valued his life, it was best not to mention that. Well aware that it was best to let her take this at her own pace, which is why he had simply agreed when she first mentioned the idea of them moving in together a couple of weeks ago. They’d decided they wanted to find somewhere new - a house, a home for them and Jack, and whoever else might come along in the future, to grow together. To finally have the happy ending, the soft epilogue, they all deserved. 

He just wished she’d believe that Jack wanted that too, that she’d relax and allow herself to enjoy the thought of their future as much as he was. 

He hears the familiar thunder of his son’s footsteps down the hallway and he feels Emily grip his hand even tighter. He leans in and kisses her temple, repeating his previous words against her skin.

“It will be fine,” he pulls away and looks over his shoulder at his son, “Jack, buddy, can we talk to you for a minute?” 

Jack nods and runs over, landing on the couch next to them, “Can we get pizza?”

Aaron chuckles and nods, “Yeah, we can get it later, but we need to talk to you first.” 

Jack’s eyes go slightly wide, “Am I in trouble?”

Emily smiles and shakes her head, and Aaron feels her hold his hand impossibly tighter, “No, sweetie. Of course, you aren’t,” she assures him. 

Aaron watches as Jack physically relaxes, Emily’s effect on him unmatched, and it warms him from the inside out, “You know Emily has been part of our family for a while now?” He asks, and Jack nods enthusiastically. Aaron feels Emily press her face into his shoulder, her shy smile something he can feel through his shirt, “Well we’ve been thinking it’s time for us to find somewhere bigger for us to live, and we wanted to know what you think.” 

Jack furrows his brows a little, “Like a house?” 

“Yeah, exactly like a house,” Emily says, smiling at him, “What do you think?”

Jack is silent for a moment as he contemplates it, “Will there be a backyard?” 

Emily and Aaron look at each other for a second and exchange a small smile before they look back at the little boy in front of them, “Yeah, of course.” 

“And I can have a swing set? One of those ones with a slide on it?” 

Aaron hears Emily chuckle next to him, and he can feel the tension seeping out of her. “Yeah, sweetie. You can have a swing set.” 

Jack shrugs nonchalantly as if it were truly that simple, “Okay. I’d like a house.” 

He can’t help but smile as Emily opens her arms up and Jack immediately gets closer, folding himself up into her embrace. Aaron pulls them in and wraps his arms around both of them, dropping a kiss to both of their heads as he relaxes into it, his future as clear as it had ever been. The three of them and the kids he and Emily had spoken about, the dream they hadn’t dared to have even a couple of years ago one step closer to being a reality. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with me living with you and Daddy all the time?” Emily asks, pulling back just enough to look at Jack, her fingers running through his messy hair. 

Jack frowns and tilts his head at her, his brows furrowing together again, confusion written all over his face as he looks back and forth between her and his father. 

“I thought you already did live with us.”

-x-

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