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#I miss kissing my friends on the mouth after drinking too much
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Precious Secrets
Wanda Maximoff X Reader
past!Natasha Romanoff X Reader
Summary: Time is ticking down towards your wedding day and it only feels right to look back on the good (and bad) choices that got you where you are today.
Warnings: Natty is dead in this one and yes it’s a bit angsty, but this one’s more focusing on the healing process R goes through after putting off the grieving process for over ten years. Use of alcohol, some swearing. Not much else tbh. This is not a graphic fic whatsoever.
Gif not mine
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“Was I right or was I right?” Sam sat next to you on the porch steps with ease. As if this was just another night.
“You really know how to pull a party together, man…” The green from the half-peeled sticker on your drink would remain under the nail on your thumb until tomorrow. “Thanks, Sam,”
“Look at us, huh,” He said, that infamous smile curling up as he bumped his shoulder into yours. You rolled your eyes with a laugh, lifting your drink and taking another swig. “Remember that time we let Steve drive us to that rich kid party?” He leaned back, resting his elbows on the worn wooden planks.
“First of all, Peggy is British, not rich. Also, Steve was the only one still sober,” you point out, and Sam chortles.
“He was so nervous about her that any one of us would’ve been a better driver. Dude could not keep his anxiety in check,” you both chuckled at the memory.
“Don’t even get me started on the dancing,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Can’t believe he went right into tap,” Sam stood up, imitating the flourishes and moves in the sloppiest manner known to man.
“I swear I saw her throw up a little in her mouth,” You finish, letting out a deep breath. A quiet calm took over. The sun was up now and everyone else had tapped out from the festivities. It felt foreign with how the sun warmed your skin. You hadn’t been back home in over a decade, but your fiancé was adamant that the venue should be personal… and to be fair Wanda’s home was no longer an existing country, let alone a region where they would allow you two to be married.
“I’m surprised you saw anything. I recall you getting pretty cozy with a certain someone,” he wiggled his eyebrows playfully and your jaw clenched. It was only for a split second and luckily Sam was too busy squinting away the light from his eyes to notice. When he does turn to you all you offer is a shrug.
“It’s not like you weren’t ‘occupied’ either, my friend,” you joke, setting the empty bottle at your feet. “Do you ever miss it?” you ask.
“Getting in trouble?” he asks and you can’t help but smile to yourself.
“Yeah. That,”
“Not as much as I used to,” He admits. This time he regards you more carefully, eyes trying to read something that isn’t there. “I know you’re only in town for this week, but have you visited them yet?” He asks. With no need for elaboration, you shake your head.
“I’ve put it off this long… What’s a little longer?” You end with a shrug, standing up before hoisting Sam up with you. “How about we start the cleanup and then sleep for the next three days?” You joke and he lets you. It’d always been a touchy subject whenever you’d caught up on the phone. As long as it was at your pace and you felt ready.
- - -
“How was it?” Wanda asked with a loving smile, her arms open and beckoning you for a hug.
“All these old people are cramping my style,” you joke and Sam punches your shoulder playfully.
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” He raises a brow at you and you laugh. It doesn’t take long to say goodbye and scold him for the DJ incident which Wanda is all too eager to hear about.
“I’m glad you had a really good night. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friends,” Wanda closes the door gently like she always does and you pull her in for a kiss.
“5 more days and they’ll all be sick of me,” you joke and your fiancé pinches your arm.
“Don’t be a meanie,” She jokes and you can’t help but feel lighter. That is at least until you notice the thoughtful look on her face. You furrow your brows-ready to ask when she cuts in. “Someone came by yesterday asking if you were still in town,” Wanda’s eyes are focused on her hands, which are playing with the buttons on your coat.
“Oh?” You ask, stomach twisting, knowing where this leads.
“She said her name was Yelena and that you used to be friends with her sister…” You could hear the underlying question in her tone. The one she most desperately wanted to ask, but would inevitably refuse to.
It’s something you admire about Wanda. As much as you wish she never had the traumatic childhood she had, it gave her the awareness of tact. The ability to sense that things were uneasy before anyone else could and adapt. Despite how adamant she was about being at a loss for how people work, she always knew when to be sharp and when to be gentle. When to push a conversation along and when to let it flow freely.
You admire her heart. You also love that it gives you just enough of an out with your wording on this particular topic.
“Yeah, I knew her sister back in high school. Yelena was always cool, but we never really hung out,” You try to wave off the concern with an easygoing smile and Wanda gets the hint.
Don’t push.
“Well, she wanted me to give you this. Said that it would mean the world to the family if we could make it,” Wanda said, handing you a small and neat invitation. Melina’s work.
“I don’t know-“ You started.
“What’s got you on the fence, love?” She asks casually, eyes studying your expressions for the smallest sign of your walls coming down.
“It’s nothing, really,” you lie.
“You can go alone if that’s more comfortable,” Wanda offers and that’s when you realize that she’d gotten more than your intended message. Don’t push because it hurts.
Just the kind of message that Wanda usually had for you at the beginning of your relationship. It took over a year for her to tell you more than just the facts of it. To change “it happened” to “it made me feel”. Just like you did with her, she wasn’t going to let this go.
“I’m not getting out of this,” and she pursed her lips, shaking her head.
“Not if my gut’s right about this,” She states.
“About what?”
“That whatever this situation is… It’s the reason you don’t come back here, isn’t it?”
- - -
Wanda drove. It’s a task that is not normally given to her as her driving is more than a bit scary at times. However, in the two days since your talk, you haven’t been able to stop remembering. Luckily, your most sacred places had either been shut down or abandoned, so those memories could still be pushed down.
There were others though. When you and Wanda went on a stroll through the nearby park, you saw the tree with your old nicknames carved into it. A name lost to nostalgia as you stood under the tree and watched Wanda point out with a small chuckle, “Who would write tiny dancer and stinkbug?” she laughed and a part of you felt pained. Angry. Defensive.
“No one important,” you shrugged, shaking off the small chip on your shoulder and sending Wanda a more believable smile. “Clearly they’re insane. Best friends forever spelled with an actual 4 and ending in ‘eva’? Ridiculous,” You poke fun at it and for a moment it helps to pretend you hadn’t carved it just to see Natasha smile.
Then there was the old bakery. It was right next to Joann’s fabrics and Wanda wanted to pop in before going to find more yarn to crochet with. The walls still had a floral pattern and that old people smell that lingers around in most government buildings. The light on the display case flickered more than you ever remember, but even worse, when you got to the register to pay the owner almost recognized you.
“You sure you’ve never been here before? I never forget a face,” He asked.
“Nope, I’ve never bought anything from here before. I just have one of those faces,” You say. Once again, you’re careful of the wording. You’d been there countless times to bug Natasha during her shifts, even when James was the one to pick her up afterward. Then, when they started dating you stopped coming by. It was embarrassing being the third wheel during her lunch breaks, but you’d also realized your feelings for her.
When you left the bakery, Wanda’s hand slipped from yours and instead of putting the bag in the car and continuing to the fabric store, Wanda sat in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut with a frown on her face. After a few minutes of her refusing to look at you through the windshield, you climbed inside the car with her.
“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask.
“You’re just acting really weird,” Wanda huffs, still not looking at you.
“What do you mean?” it couldn’t have been that noticeable.
“I don’t know… It’s just the way you’re acting. I know you’re just being you, but it doesn’t feel like it…” Wanda admits and you purse your lips.
“What can I do?” You ask, eyes looking over her features.
“Nothing. It’s just weird that since we’ve been here you’ve been feeling more and more like a stranger. Like I did something and it’s all weird now and I don’t even know what I did,” Wanda began rambling. This was the double-edged sword of someone so aware.
You had been acting strange, but it wasn’t because of her. It was never because of Wanda.
“Baby, you haven’t done anything, trust me,” You cut her off and her eyes finally meet yours as she quiets down. “I just… I haven’t been back here in so long and it’s been a bit much,” you offer a half-truth, not wanting to dig into the real problems you’re trying to run away from. Wanda’s instantaneous breath of relief is enough for the weight to come off your chest, just enough to take a deep breath together.
“I’m sorry for being so anxious and in my head about it. I didn’t mean to “
“Hey, it’s okay, love…” you say, reaching over the console to rub soothing circles on her back. After a few minutes, you speak again. “Ready to get more yarn now?”
After that, it was all smiles and sunshine.
Now? Now you’re parked on the side of the road in front of Natasha’s home. The last time you’d been there was a miserable affair and your best friend wasn’t there anymore to get you through it. Yelena made it through the first ten minutes before running to the backyard and shutting herself in the treehouse. Alexei had built it when she and Natasha were still only as tall as his waistline.
Melina was stoic as ever, shouldering the emotional burden internally and she was good at it. So good it scared you until you saw her slip into a quiet hallway, drinking and flinching from the burn of alcohol in a sizable flask. Later that night when everyone else had gone and you’d finished helping Alexei coerce Liho from meowing at Natasha’s bedroom door, you saw Melina sitting on the couch.
The flask was nowhere to be seen, but you had no doubt it was close by. Melina was flipping through pages of a large book, a photo album. You didn’t have the energy or the heart to talk to her as it was a shock to all of you. The sweet, vibrant, elusive Natasha Romanoff had gotten into the car with a drunk James Buchanan Barnes. The accident was a head-on collision with a semi-truck that left him paralyzed from the neck down.
- - -
“I’m surprised you’re being so traditional, getting married in the same church your parents did,” Melina comments.
“Well, you can’t beat tried and true,” you joke, pressing a kiss to Wanda’s forehead, your arm wrapped comfortably around her shoulder.
“I remember you promising to make me the flower girl,” Yelena accused jokingly and you both snorted with laughter.
“I’m sure we can find you a dress. Even if it is last minute,” Wanda adds, and even Alexei chuckles at that one.
“I remember when we got married,” Alexei says, turning to Melina and the older woman nods with a smirk.
“We didn’t have much money so we had to book a venue in the off-season,” Melina explained.
“Turns out that the off-season was also storm season,”
“And a tornado just barely went away by the time we were supposed to drive to the church,” Melina’s tone is unimpressed.
“It was destiny,” Alexei says, romanticizing the memory.
“It was luck,” Melina balances out his wistful personality with a splash of realism. “We’d already had Natasha at that point so she was our little flower girl,” Melina gushed and your expression took a turn. It had been an hour and you’d all avoided direct mention of her.
“That’s so cute! How old was she?” Wanda asks. The conversation continues with a casual quality that you are starting to hate. Have they really healed? Is it not supposed to feel like the world is imploding at the mere mention of her?
“She was three and Yelena was already on the way,” Melina mused and Yelena groaned, rolling her eyes. “Y/n’s mom officiated the wedding, actually,” the older woman added and you masked your true feelings, nodding along instead before getting up to refill everyone’s drinks. You make it to the kitchen without realizing Yelena followed you. Laughter fills the house and just as the walls begin to swell up you feel a hand on your shoulder.
“Y/n?” Yelena asks.
“Hey, yeah what’s up?” You do your best to act normal. Yelena isn’t one to mince words and as much as she remained a fly on the wall during her childhood, she did notice things about people. That included you since you’d been Natasha’s best friend for as long as the younger woman could remember.
“Still hurts?” She asks and you nod. “She wouldn’t want that for you,” she says the words you hate the most. No one else knew the truth. No one ever caught the two of you so why would they?
“She was my best friend, Yel… We did everything together,” You say and Yelena listens. Really listens. Her hand goes back to her side and she leans against the counter, watching you. “I just want to be happy. I want to make Wanda happy… I want to act like none of this… this… I’m trying not to think about it,” you finally admit.
“I get that,” She says simply and you scoff.
“I don’t think you do,” you say without thinking and her face turns to something you’ve never seen before. It’s a mix of confusion and anger.
“Fuck you,” Yelena’s voice is dry and bitter. “She was my sister,”
“She was my-“You shut your mouth before you can say the words. Yelena laughs at this, looking at you like you’re some pathetic parasite.
“Just because you had some stupid crush on my sister it doesn’t mean you get to say that,” Yelena pushes and you’re taken aback. “Oh, did you think I didn’t notice? I have eyes you know?” Yelena says and you finally snap out of it.
“You used to be likable,” you quip.
“Yeah, well, I grew up. What’s your excuse?” Yelena shoots back and you swallow your words.
“This was a bad idea-“You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. After a moment of tense quiet you begin fixing everyone’s drinks. “I’m sorry,”
“Me too,” Yelena says, moving closer to help you. “Truce,” she says and you nod.
- - -
By the time Alexei retires for the night, Melina is only halfway through the first scrapbook of memories. Being best friends with someone since birth means they have just as many pictures with you in them. You remember when you moved away and begged your mom to get rid of any photos she had with you and Natasha together. It just hurt too much.
“Oh my god, you two were so cute!” Wanda gushes alongside Melina. Yelena catches sight of an embarrassing picture with her in it and she scowls. “And I love these, did you make them yourself?” Wanda asks Melina. She always loved crafts…
“Of course I did! I could teach you and give you the supplies. I don’t make these anymore,” Melina says and you furrow your eyebrows. That’s new. “I haven’t really since-“
“Mama,” Yelena gives the older woman a soft look and they quickly move on.
“The best picture is on the next page,” Melina says and Yelena shoots you a smirk that confuses you. When she turns it over you can’t breathe.
It’s of you and Natasha. She’s beaming, her cheeks bright red like her homecoming dress. You stood behind, holding her waist in the picture mid-laugh.
“Natasha’s date got grounded the day before the dance,” Melina said, looking up and making eye contact with you. Swallowing down the nerves you let out an awkward laugh.
“Yeah, it was way too last minute to get anything that fit right so I just went with the cheapest suit I could find and we rode there on my bike,” you continued the story. Your eyes locked with Wanda’s and she was waiting patiently, ready to devour more of these secret memories you hadn’t shared before. It was comforting to have her look at you so lovingly, so warmly, that you almost forgot.
Natasha’s date didn’t get grounded, he ditched her for some senior and didn’t have the guts to tell her. So, when you showed up to the dance and he was there, Natasha bolted. Even in heels, you swore she ran faster than any Olympic athlete. It didn’t take too long to find her crying in the bathroom, but it did take quite a bit of convincing to get her to go back to the dance and focus on just having a good night.
That night, Natasha swore, was the best night of her life. Dancing till your feet were sore, twirling and jumping around until you got dizzy, laughing like there was nothing that could be funnier… and then…
During the quiet bike ride to drop Natasha off at home, she had you stop at the park where you’d carved your nicknames a few weeks prior. She said she wanted to walk. To make the night last a little longer even if Melina and Alexei would scold her tomorrow for it. You remember the fireflies hovering throughout the park, the green mixing with the pale light from the moon.
Natasha climbed the tree and you followed. She spoke about her favorite poem and how it reminded her of you. She confessed that she’d been having dreams and couldn’t stop thinking about you during class. She came clean about all the times she scared girls away from you because she was worried they were prettier than her. She admitted that she didn’t realize what that meant until you dropped everything, you even quit your after-school job, just to make it to the dance that night. For her.
Then you kissed. A first for you as well as her. The beginnings of love. The start of a secret. You excused yourself once more. The patio out back so you could get some fresh air, leaving Wanda with the only people Natasha had confided in about you.
When you came back something seemed off. It was quiet. Too quiet. You sat next to Wanda, noting that the scrapbooks were all put away. There were four shot glasses filled to the brim with a clear liquid. “I figured now that we’re all adults,” Yelena stood up and went to work passing out the shots. To your surprise, Wanda is the first to down her shot. Soon, Yelena follows as does Melina, leaving you dead last as you lift your glass.
- - -
You’re in the car. This time it’s parked outside your own childhood home. Wanda’s killed the engine by now but hasn’t made the move to go inside. A sign that it’s time to talk. Talk or she’ll push.
“They liked you,” you comment and she sucks her teeth, trying to find a way to approach the topic.
“They missed you,” she said. “Melina made it sound like you hate them now,” she tests the waters.
“I don’t hate them. I love them!” You laugh at the absurdity of the statement, but it quickly dies down when Wanda’s eyes snap to yours.
“You’ve been acting weird again,” she states.
“How could I not? I left because my best friend died,” you breathe out and she shakes her head, sighing.
“It’s not just that though, is it?” Wanda asks without judgment. You watch your fiancé closely and see the worn expression in her eyes. You swore you’d never tell a soul.
“It’s nothing,” you try again and Wanda won’t buy it.
“What happened?”
- - -
Steve finally parked the car outside of Peggy’s and you cringed seeing a familiar head of red hair in James Barnes’ truck.
“See Steve? That’s how you get the ladies,” Same joked and Steve scoffed.
“They’re already dating, Sam,” he reminded the man and you faked a laugh, exiting the car as fast as you could.
“And you could be too if you just-“ You shut your door and your ability to hear the rest of Sam’s quip, taking quick steps towards the Carter household. You walk in to smoke, blaring music, and a gross amount of horny teenagers. Weaving through the crowd you find the alcohol, taking a red solo cup and filling it to the brim with the jungle juice on the counter. You’d made your rounds with the dance floor, the group of stoners in the backyard, and Peggy’s group of friends before you saw Natasha and James walk in. His shirt was sloppy and the collar was stretched out from someone gripping it too tight or pulling it down. You cringed not wanting to think of either. When they joined your group, James began talking to Steve and Natasha through her arm around your shoulders.
“Having fun?” she leaned close to your ear, making sure you could understand her over the music. A quick shrug and a tight-lipped smile were enough to dodge her and make your rounds again. This time, she interrupted you when you were smoking with the stoners.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you at all,” she remarked and you let out a convincing laugh.
“It’s a crazy party with a lot of fun people. Not sure why you’d miss little old me,” you joke and she rolls her eyes.
“How can I not miss my favorite person?” she laughs lightheartedly. Only a few minutes pass until she’s pulling you away from the group and over towards the side of the house. You almost fall for it again until you see a dark hickey just under her collarbone. You try to pull away, but Natasha’s grip is strong enough to keep you in place.
“Stop. I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say and she frowns.
“What? It’s not like I like him,” Natasha says. You roll your eyes.
“From the looks of it I think you like him just fine,” you say bitterly and she’s taken aback.
“Where is this coming from?” She asks softly, letting go of you. You knew she wanted to keep it a secret until she was ready to come out. She never mentioned that her plan included having a fake boyfriend. Worse was that James was head over heels for her. Just like you.
“You know what? Let’s dance,” She takes your hand quickly, pulling you along. “Can’t give me a nickname like tiny dancer and expect me to ignore a dance floor,” Natasha batted her eyelashes playfully and you began to crack. A half smile at her insistence and the bitterness of knowing it was a distraction. A bandaid rather than an actual fix for the problem.
“Tasha…” you say weakly and she ignores it, shutting the sliding door behind you and walking towards the center of the dancing sea of bodies. It’s crowded, uncoordinated, and entirely uncouth, but you join in regardless. It reminded you of last year when you went to the dance and she confessed her love for you. Hanging on to broken threads you began to dance with her. With Natasha.
- - -
“What happened after that?” Wanda asked.
“We made a mistake… and then everything fell apart.”
- - -
James found you. Of all the people that could’ve walked in it had to be James. Natasha may have been taking the lead, but it was you he was yelling at. Of course, it would be you. He confided in you about his feelings for Natasha years before he asked her out. More than that, you knew his last relationship ended because he got cheated on.
For as much as he could be open about his past platonically, he could not do so with his romantic interests.
Almost everyone had left, but the screaming summoned Peggy from the depths of nowhere which, in turn, had Steve hot on her heels. There it was… Natasha’s precious secret was out in the open. She was still covering your naked body with her own when James stormed out, cursing left and right as he pulled his car keys from his pocket. Natasha pulled her hoodie and shorts on. Then, she followed James, knowing just how drunk he was.
You were still reeling and clutching the sheet to your chest. Peggy asked Steve to go wait in the hall and closed the door. Tears were streaming down your face and you were sobbing as Peggy approached you. She had the same careful steps as someone who had found a wild animal in their house. You both heard the truck roar to life and drive off. You flinched at the squeak of the tires, but let out a breath of relief as you heard Steve’s heavy steps rushing down the stairs.
That was the last time you saw Natasha Romanoff alive.
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flowershines · 2 months
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I’m just better
Summary: Your boyfriend loves to show you off to his friends and shows them how lucky he got, even if that means fucking you in front of them
Warnings: Smut, deepthroat, caught, fucking in front of others, boner, blowjob, teasing, jealous Heeseung (lmk if i missed any)
Not proof read
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Spending all of your time with your boyfriend meant that you basically lived in the dorms with him and his roommates. You felt comfortable hanging out with all of them because they treat you like you are their roommate too, so when you weren’t hanging out with your boyfriend you would sometimes walk out to the living room and hang out with whoever was in there. Heeseung would sometimes question why you are so close with them as he tells himself to not think much of it and should just be glad that you are getting along with his friends but when they get really touchy, he gets protective over you and would talk to them saying how they need to keep their hands off of you.
Walking into the living room most of their heads turned to you, looking around you see most of the seats were already taken so you decided to sit on the floor in front of your boyfriend as you walked in front of him his hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you onto his knee wrapping his arm around you, putting his hand back on the controller continuing to play the game. His body started to tense up since most of the other players died and it was him versus Jake, he held his breath till he absolutely couldn't anymore which made you not only look at how fast his fingers were moving on the controller but the way his lips fell in between his teeth. You just started to admire him, he was so gorgeous and he wouldn't even pay any attention to how perfect he is.
With every minute that passed by the more boredom filled through your body, not even being entertained by your boyfriend playing his game, you shifted forward on his leg and pulled out your phone from your back pocket and opened tiktok. You did not expect the most jaw dropping, mouth salivating edit of Jay, you finished the edit and placed your phone back in your pocket hoping that nobody had seen what you just witnessed. Turning to both sided you see that you were in the clear as all of them were staring at the screen or on their phones meanwhile you couldn't even look at Jay.
Your train of thought was quickly pulled away as your boyfriend's head fell onto your shoulder. You looked at him then to the side and seeing Jake celebrating, the man behind you grumbled into your shoulder about how unfair that was. “You did good.” You told him which made him pick his head up and pull you into a kiss, the sound of gagging and ‘eww’ made him smile on your lips. He pulled away from the kiss and whined “You guys are no fun.” then pulled you back onto him so your back was resting on his chest, “It’s not our fault you do that in front of us, go get a room.” he smirked “That’s for later.” his roommates gave him a disgusted look and faked throwing up. “I’m leaving you guys are nasty.” Niki explains as he gathered his things and left the room and started to head down the hallway to his bedroom, “What did I do?” you asked quietly, making some of them look at you “It's not you we are disgusted by.” Jay said, turning to face Heeseung. “It's not my fault that I love my girlfriend, you guys are just jealous.”
After some time of watching your boyfriend’s roommates play games on the screen, you starting to hear an occasional knock on the door which brought in new people every minute, you were confused because you knew that people were coming over but they said it was only a couple of people yet everyone filled up the entire dorm. “Want a drink?” Your boyfriend asked as he had his hands on your hips motioning you to stand up, following his motions you stood up as he squeezed around you and the people around you both. “No i’m good.'' With that he walked into the kitchen as you pulled your phone out once again and went onto your favorite game and started to play it while waiting for your boyfriend to get back.
Till your gaze was pulled away as someone started to talk to you, “What’cha playing?” you looked up to see Jay sitting next to you. The question he asked had you turning your phone to show him. “Heeseung went to get drinks and I got bored.” He turned his head to the kitchen as he saw Heeseung talking to one of his friends ``Why don’t you come with me? We can go into the kitchen and get something to eat.” You whined but he had his hand wrapped around your wrist pulling you in the slightest bit, “Come on it will be fine, plus I could hear your stomach from a mile away.” he commented as you smiled. Walking into the kitchen your boyfriend gave you a glance and a smile before he winked at you then returned his gaze to the man in front of him. “Cookie?” You shook your head “Chips?” once again followed by shaking your head “What are you hungry for?” you shrugged “Why don’t you go into the fridge and see what we got.” he said as he opened the fridge door as you walked up to it and bended forward to see what there was but not only was Jay standing right behind you but your ass rubbed up against him which caused you to shoot up and turn around.
“What are you guys doing?” You hear your boyfriend say from behind you, causing you to peek your head around to see him staring at you both with one eyebrow cocked, “I was just getting a snack and Jay was helping me pick one out.” as Jay nodded to the man. “Why did you stand up so fast?” you looked around for a second “Oh.. Well I just found the snack that I wanted.” he gave you a questioning look as you reached into the fridge and held up a bag “Carrots?” you nodded. “Yup, who doesn’t love carrots.” He gave Jay a glare and grabbed your hand as you both walked into his room, he shut the door behind him turning to you and saying “Be honest, carrots?” you looked down and wanted to be honest with your boyfriend “No, Jay was helping me pick out a snack because I didn't know what to pick out and he held the fridge door open for me so i snuck in front of him and looked to see what was in the fridge but when I bent down I was not only bent down in front of him but my ass rubbed up against him and I felt- nevermind. But Then I shot up because I was surprised and that's what happened.” You said still looking at the floor with the carrot bag still in your hand.
“Wait we aren't going to ignore that like you just didn't say anything you felt his what?” He asked sitting on his bed and pulled you closer so your standing in front of him while he sits, “When I bent down in front of him I felt his dick, it not anything really bad.” he huffed as he placed his hand on your chin making you look up at him. “Not bad, Y/n?” You didn’t say anything, “I don’t want my girl feeling another man’s dick on her.” “But Hee it wasn’t either of our faults, it was an accident.” “Accident my ass, he had to see you bent down like that in front of you.” You walked around him and sat on the bed by where his pillows were causing him to turn around while you patted the empty spot next to you which was soon filled with his body next to you.
He wasn’t mad which made you feel a lot better but you were really confused on why he kept bringing Jay up because it was about half and hour since he brought you into his room and questions about his friend was still being talked about, at this point everybody left including Niki but his roommates were still screaming at the tv as they played a video game. He grabbed you hand and suggested that you both go and join them which you couldn’t say no so you followed him into the room with his roommates as they greeted you both. Heeseung sat right next to Jay and put you on his lap but before he did he turned you around so you were facing him, that way when you sat on his lap you would be straddling him. Sitting down you rested your head on his shoulder facing his neck while still being able to see the screen, his hands snaked down to your waist as you thought nothing of it and continued to watch the screen. Until you felt his hands start to move your hips back and forth on his lap, you immediately started to try and stop his movements as there are other people in the room but he ignored you.
“Heeseung.” You whispered in his ear not wanting to aware the others of his movements, he didn’t say anything back but his breaths started to get more heavy causing Jay to almost look but thankfully he didn’t because of a loud noise on the screen. “We can go in the bedroom and do it but not out here please.” You lifted up your head which only lead to him attacking your neck with kisses, “I’m just showing them that your mine.” he said in between kisses “They already know that, let’s just go.” shaking his head in response causing Jay to look over, “Are you guys serious right now?” he asked while the other roommates look at what you both are doing. You tried your best to get Heeseung’s hands off of your hips but he wasn’t budging, “Come on man.” Jake said as he looks away from the screen “Don’t act like this is your first time seeing her like this.” you moved your head up from his shoulder and looked at him then Jake. “Huh?!” “Remember the other night, the door was accidentally open a bit and you will never guess who i saw peeping in the crack of the door while jerking his shit to you riding me.”
The room went completely silent as Jake’s cheeks flushed red , “Oh that’s not even half of it Y/n, you talk about how they are all so innocent and how they don’t like you in that way yet Sunoo jerks off to your selfies, Jungwon is constantly staring at your body mostly your ass, Sunghoon gets off to your moans when we have sex, and Jay.. you don’t even wanna know what he does.” A cricket could be heard from the room as how completely silent it went after he talked, everyone was to embarrassed to even look at you. “So to answer your question, no i’m not going to stop because they need to know that your mine even if that means fucking you in front of them.” You were completely stunned by his words all of you were, needless to say he stuck to his words and kept moving your hips on him.
Even though it felt off to be this sexual in front of his friends none of them got up and left or made any noises they stayed put as they watched you both, “See now they shut up since you know their dirty little secrets about you.” his lips started to move to your neck as he kissed you between each word he said “God your so perfect.” you started to hesitate from all of his friends eyes on you till he comforted you saying “Don’t worry, they like seeing you like this. They just wish they were the ones fucking you and not me.” Turning around to see his friends, you were right all of their eyes were fascinated on you both but something you saw gave you a confidence boost and went along with Heeseung’s actions, as you went to put your head back onto his shoulder out of the corner of your eye you see Jays hand moving up and down.
You moved your head to get a clear view as you saw how he was stroking himself over his pants while his bulge was clearly prominent, your boyfriend was right they did like seeing you like this. Heeseung’s hands started to move down onto your ass as he started the very awaited movements again but instead of just him moving you placed your hands on his shoulders and started to grind on him, “Good girl.” he said as he grunted through his teeth. The more that you grinded on your him the more sporadic his movements became, his hands would not leave your body, his veins started to show from how tight he was holding onto you, his cock would twitch with every movement you made, and his expressions would easily show just how good you made him feel.
“Why don’t you be a good girl and give them a show, suck my cock.” He wasn’t asking and you weren’t complaining, it started to make you more and more wet by just the thought of having his friends watching you both have sex while they get themselves off. Getting up from his lap and to your knees you sat in front of him as he placed one of his hands on your cheek while the other started to undo his pants while his eyes never broke contact with yours, starting to get impatient on how long he was taking you ran your fingers along the outline of his bulge that stuck out in his pants. Which resulted to him letting go of your face and holding your wrist to stop your motions, “Don’t tease me right now because I will bend you over the couch and fuck you while they watch. Do you understand me?” you nodded “Words princess.” looking up at him as his grip on your wrist loosened. “Yes.”
He didn’t say anything else as he moved his pants and boxers to his knees, picking up your hand and wrapping it around his cock slowly starting a constant movement of jerking him off then teasing his tip. His hands traveled to your hair as he pulled it up into a ponytail which was always his way of telling you that he wants you to put him in your mouth, doing so you kitten licked his tip and started to go down further onto his cock the further you went down the tighter his grip had gotten on your hair. Looking up at him you see how his head was thrown back with his adams apple poking out, your eyes traveled to the man next to him resulting in you both making imitate eye contact neither of you looked away even when you started to deep throat your boyfriend.
Not wanting to turn your head and make it obvious you were looking at his friends getting off to this, you could just tell because the silence that was in the room is now filled with breathy moans, small grunts, heavy breathing, and more small noises they let out. You hadn’t noticed before but Heeseung’s gaze was back on you as he saw you and Jay staring at one another as you sucked him off, “You getting off to this?” he asked while looking at you not being able to pick your head up you just hummed on him which caused him to moan because of the vibrations. “Fuck this, get on my lap. Need to be in you, now.”
Following his instructions and sitting on his lap you stripped yourself till you were left in your bra and underwear as you were not completely comfortable with being naked in front of all of them, Heeseung figured this out easily and didn’t say anything about taking them off and just moved your panties to the side as he slowly started to move you down on his cock but always making sure you have enough time to adjust to his size. Soft moans fell from your lips as he never failed to make your body feel good, you started to move up and down on his cock while his fingers digged into your hips filled with desperation.
The sound of someone spitting pulled your out of your trance of please causing you to turn your head to the noise as you see spit leaving Jake’s lips as it fell onto the tip of his cock sliding down his base, picking your eyes up and looking around the room you see the guys who were sitting there making occasional noises either had their dicks out and were jerking themselves off or they did it over their pants and boxers. You could cum just from the sight of all them getting off to you but you decided to just focus on you and your boyfriend’s pleasure, his hips started to rut up into you as your movements just wasn’t enough for his pleasure and he needed more of you. He brought one of his knees higher so that way he can lift you up and fuck up into you, you didn’t mind because it would give your legs a break.
Grunts and moans fell from his lips along with occasional swearing about ‘how fucking good you feel’, ‘so fucking good’, ‘fucking hell’ or even just ‘fuck’. Moans filled the room as they started to get louder and louder with each passing moment, even though they were getting close you had no idea of Heeseung was. He usually moans loud and gets more noisy but since his friends are here you just think he doesn’t want to be as loud as he can get, if he wasn’t about to cum soon you sure were the thought of all of them and your boyfriend fucking up into you like he has never fucked you in ages was finally getting to you. Feeling yourself reach your limit you moaned to your boyfriend “Fuck keep going, i’m gonna cum. Cum with me, please.” the sound of skin hitting one another echoed through the room, some of his friends already came just from hearing such a lewd comment fall from your lips.
While others wanted to cum when you did including your boyfriend, he was getting close his cock kept uncontrollably twitching inside of you hitting your g-spot in all the right ways. “Fuck” You whispered as your climax hit you like a bus as you came on your boyfriend, just as you came he was not that far behind you while he quickly pulled out and squirted his cum all along your stomach. “Thank you.” He said as he pulled you closer to him while you cuddled into his chest, “You got really lucky man.” you hear Sunghoon mention to him. “I’m just better than you guys that’s why.”
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princessbrunette · 2 months
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brother’s best friend!rafe is on my mind every minute of every day 😵‍💫 fucking in the most obvious places & reader is trying her absolute best to not make a sound, but rafe isn’t having it - he literally goes to POUND TOWNNN & the moans just pour out her poor mouth !!! :(
also, can i be clawdeen wolf anon? (i love monster high❤️‍🔥).
i misread the request i know i know pls
🎀🩰♡🌸୭
“i swear, you wanna get caught, don’t you? yeah, that shit gets you off, doesn’t it?” rafe pants, his dresser banging against the wall rhythmically from where you’re sat on top of it, his hips thrusting into you. he hadn’t even shut his bedroom door.
you’d been outside with sarah all day, lounging by the pool. rafe wasn’t that discreet about his attraction towards you, wandering out onto the the porch to stare you down in your little bikini. sarah had quickly shooed him away, yelling something about him being a perv which he didn’t deny — turning back around in disinterest with an eye roll, sipping his drink as he meanders back inside. but now, after you’d told her you had to grab something from your bag in her room — she’d left you to her own devices inside tannyhill.
“no! we — we can’t, i feel— mmph— feel terrible!” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he destroys your little cunt, bikini bottoms pushed to the side, toes curling at his lower back.
“really? really. ‘cos to me it seems like you feel pretty good.” he whispers, smirk threatening to twitch at his lips as he switches over to rolling his lips languidly instead of thrusting incessantly. your jaw drops, forehead falling to press to his shoulder and you watch him fuck into you, whining as quietly as your body will allow you.
“she can’t know.” you reiterate in a shameful whisper, trembling when his hand presses between you, thumbing at your clit.
“wont know unless you tell ‘er.” he pants, speeding up again chasing his own high. “hey, you’re the one that likes sneakin’ around so much maybe we should tell her huh? — oh saraaaah!” he calls fairly loudly, turning his face to the open door knowing his sister was outside, likely not to hear him.
you gasp anyway, slapping at his chest making him lose his rhythm and he chuckles boyishly, grabbing you a little tighter so you stop fighting him. “you’re fine.” he reassures, lips hovering over yours as he continues to fuck you, about to kiss you.
“the fuck do you want rafe?” sarah’s voice is suddenly not far at all, half way up the stairs and your eyes widen in panic, shoving him away and jumping off the dresser. he presses his lips together in irritation, yanking his shorts up, sure to tuck his erectjon the right way, so that it wasn’t apparent. as her footsteps draw closer to the already open door, rafe grabs you by the shoulders and stuffs you behind it — opening the door fully to conceal you. she arrives, and he comes up with some bullshit excuse, saying he didn’t need to ask her what he was going to ask before.
she asks if he’s seen you and he shrugs, probably way too exaggerated and theatrical with his mouth turned downwards.
“why the hell would i know where she is, huh?”
sarah’s eyes subconsciously glance around his room. “she said she was coming upstairs to get something from her bag. did you say something to her? it’s bad enough you stare at her all the time like a total creep, but i swear to god rafe if you said anything to—”
“the fuck are you pointing fingers for? i said i haven’t seen her.” he argues back, more convincing this time. “last time i did see her in the house, she was saying she didn’t feel too good. maybe you just missed her.” he explains slowly, calmly. you barely breathe behind the door.
the explanation wasn’t quite adding up, and sarah’s brows furrow, eyeing her older brother. he stares back, knowing if he looks away it’ll be a cause of concern. she’s distracted by his overall appearance, the usually well groomed boy stood before her a little sweaty and red in the face, hair dishevelled and stuck to his forehead.
“whats up with you?” she asks in disgust and he rolls his eyes, waving her away.
“nothing is up with m— get out of my room, go.” he walks her back and she rolls her eyes, storming away.
“i’m not in your room, idiot.”
“shutup.”
he watched her disappear before slowly closing the door, turning to you with a growing smirk.
“i’m going to hell.” you whisper.
“well until then, she thinks you’ve headed home so… guess i got you to myself for the rest of the evening.” he closes in on you, pressing your back to the door and cupping you over your bikini bottoms once more, free hand pawing at your tit. “gotta be quiet though, alright? stakes are higher now. don’t wanna ruin all the fun.”
🎀🩰♡🌸୭
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charliemwrites · 3 months
Text
Part 2 of Neighbor!Johnny!
(Feeling a bit ✨naughty✨ this Christmas Eve so… here.)
After the fight with Ryan, you try to keep your distance from Johnny — keep the peace and all that. The more you think about the accusations your husband made… the more that guilty pit in your stomach grows.
It’s all been platonic, at least on your end. Sure, you let Johnny get away with a bit more than the average stranger, but he’s a good friend! Nothing you wouldn’t let one of your other friends do. (Even if you would find the lingering touches and general disregard for personal space a little strange from someone else.)
Sure, you have a suspicion every now and then that Johnny has more than platonic feelings for you… but they’re fleeting. Every time you worry that he’s about to cross a line, he always draws away from it. Evens out his smile, break his gaze, drops his hand. You’re close, that’s all.
But… if it’s bothering your husband. Well, you’re obligated to take that into account, aren’t you?
Even if you ache, missing your friend. Missing his silly little jokes, his cheeky grin. Miss his company while you do laundry, a helping hand in the yard, even just someone to chat with over podcasts and tv shows.
Hell, you miss hugs. Ryan’s never been big on… affection. Especially not in public.
(Barely in the house, either, really. You’ve tried talking to him about it. He swears he loves you, he just doesn’t show affection that way. You struggle to figure out why that’s so with you when he has no problem hugging his mother, sister, hell, even his secretary.
Actually… you struggle to figure out how he shows you affection. So you’ve stopped trying to figure it out at.)
But Johnny. Oh, Johnny is just so sweet to you. A hug when he greets you, a hug before he leaves. A kiss to your cheek when you hand him a drink or a snack. A hand on your hip when he leans past you to get things from high shelves. Nudges to your thighs during good parts of shows.
You miss it. Him. The friendship you’ve built in your too-quiet home, where the other neighbors seem to like your husband so much more than you.
“What’s goin’ on, hen?” Johnny asks one morning. You’ve been keeping coffee dates meetups on the porch. Which is almost worse, because it’s cold and you find yourself cuddling up to the heat he exudes like a furnace. “Hardly seen you in a month; miss my best girl.”
“Sorry, Johnny,” you sigh, rubbing at your face. Ryan’s been working late most days this week, comes in so late and wakes you up. “Just… Ryan, ya know.”
His jaw tightens, eyes flashing dangerously. You’re reminded suddenly, inexplicably, of just what Johnny does for a living. How often you’ve seen him just back home with blood still buried in his nail beds.
“Dinnae, hen,” he replies. “What about ‘im?”
You fidget, eyes on your half-empty mug. It feels wrong, admitting relationship quibbles to someone outside of family. You used to have a policy that marriage matters should stay within the marriage. But… it’s hard when it feels like you’re the only one working on the marriage. It’s a lot of work to do alone.
“He just… he doesn’t think it’s proper,” you admit, “how… how often you’re over. How close we are.”
“That so?”
You hunch your shoulders, feeling wrong. Feeling guilty for a whole new reason; for disappointing Johnny.
“Look at me, bonnie?”
He has to tip your chin up with his hand to get you to meet his eyes. His expression is softer than you expect.
“What about you, eh?”
“Me…?” You blink, peering up at him through your lashes.
“Yer feelings are all I care about, hen.”
“Johnny,” you sigh, trying to reprimand, but sound more pleading instead. He shakes your head a bit, gently; his own reprimand.
“Answer me, bonnie.”
“I like spending time with you,” you whisper.
The corners of his mouth twitch up as he hums.
“‘Course ye do,” he hums, “‘n I like spendin’ time with you. It’s not fair of ‘im, is it?”
You blink, brows pulling together in confusion. Johnny continues, the thumb on your chin gently stroking.
“Not fair of ‘im to keep you all cooped up here, come home so late, neglect ye when he is around,” he coos. “And now he’s tellin’ you to keep away from your best friend.”
He tsks, that dangerous glint in his eyes again.
“Wastin’ his tongue for bullshite when he should be usin’ it to lick your pretty pussy.”
Your mouth drops open, shock and heat flooding you hotly. “Johnny!” You gasp, scandalized.
He finally cracks a grin again. “Tell me I’m wrong, bonnie, ‘m not! When’s the last time he worked you over the way you deserve, huh? When’s the last time he made you squirt all over your sheets?”
You shove at him and then cover your burning face, trying not to squirm. Can’t answer because it would be proving him right and you don’t want to encourage his scandalous teasing.
“Bet he’d try to make you change ‘em even if he did,” Johnny grumbles, shaking his head. “Disgraceful. You ought to be put to sleep on a nice, thick cock.”
Whack!
“Oi! What was that fer?!”
“You’re being a creep, Johnny!” Your stern tone in undercut by your embarrassed laughter. “Quit talking about my shitty sex life.”
“So it is shitty!”
“Shut up!”
When a discreet box shows up at your door two days later, you know exactly who it’s from.
…that doesn’t stop you from using the (shockingly detailed and realistic) dildo inside the packaging.
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superhero--imagines · 6 months
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Dating Luffy Would Include
A/N: Reposting because someone mentioned that Luffy is canon!ace, so these headcanons are just Luffy being Luffy, there's not a need to call it out (Which I see the point of.)
* So Luffy is Ace
* That’s canon
* I am convinced you guys started dating because when you guys landed at a port town, everyone went their own ways, and you and Luffy went together to eat at a busy tavern
* You’re sitting across from him, studying the menu, discussing what you're both going to get
* “This is kind of like we’re on a date,huh?” You say jokingly after he orders for you both
* Something in his head must have clicked right then, that yeah this does feel a little like a date, and yeah, he does like it
* His face breaks out into the biggest grin, “should I order some wine?”
* In his head I think drinking wine is the most date-like thing
* He orders the wine
* You’re half surprised when mid-way through the meal he gets this serious look in his eyes.
* “Can I kiss you?”
* You almost do a spit take, choking on your drink
* “Where is this coming from?!”
* If he wanted a taste of your food he could have just asked not that he ever had before though
* “I want to know what it feels like.”
* It’s a fleeting kiss, nothing more than a peck, but it brings heat to your face
* It’s also at this moment that you realize it’s gotten unusually quiet in the tavern
* You can practically feel the burn of stares
* Luffy feels nothing, instead he grins wide and says:
* “Hey (Y/N), let’s date and be partners.”
* The tavern goes wild
* “Isn’t that straw hat Luffy?”
* “Did he just ask them to be his lover?”
* With your face, as hot as the sun, hidden behind you hands, you nod
* “Okay.”
* He’s such an affectionate baby
* If you guys split up, and he meets back with you again he grins and stretches his arms out, wrapping them twice around you before tugging you towards him
* “(Y/N), I missed you!” He’ll say while nuzzling his face into your neck
* He loves it when you do that thing where you hold his face in both your hands and sprinkle kisses all over his face
* I think his kisses are pretty chaste, just quick, fluttering, pecks
* I think there’s a lot of insecurity on your end at first, because you don’t really know where you stand in his life, and how he feels about you
* He’s only got one thing on his mind — being king of the pirates
* If you had to bucket his ‘love’ in order of priority you’d say number one is himself and his version of freedom
* With his friends as a close second
* And then there you are, a seemingly distant third
* Given his personality you wonder if he knows being your “partner” doesn’t equate to just being your friend
* “Luffy what do you think we are?”
* His head tilts to the side, eyebrows twitching
* “You’re my partner.”
* “Yeah but what do you think that means?”
* “That it’s you and me until the end,” he says without an ounce of hesitation.
* “No matter what happens, no matter where you go — I’ll always be there for you and you’ll be there for me too.”
* In a way, it’s more than you could have hoped for—because when Luffy says it, it sounds like a promise
* You take his hand in yours and squeeze
* His mouth breaks out in a grin
* He loves you so so so much, don’t ever doubt that
* He would literally never cheat on you even though he seems to capture hearts with clueless rizz everywhere he goes
* “You going to go give your girlfriend a kiss before she leaves?” You ask Luffy, swallowing hard to keep from looking at Boa Hancock any longer than you have to
* A woman so beautiful she could give you an entire slew of self esteem and mental health issues at the of her sight alone
* “Why would I say goodbye when you’re right here next to me?”
* And just like that he’s got you blushing and mumbling to yourself
* And just like that he’s laughing
* He’s got you wrapped around his finger
* But don’t think he isn’t wrapped around your finger too
* You look at your plate with increasing concern
* Luffy’s fork slides in and out of view, depositing a glistening piece of fruit with each visit
* “Luffy what are you doing?”
* “You like these right?”
* Yeah, but so does he
* The entire crew shares your sentiment as they watch him with gaping mouths
* Luffy sharing food, you never thought you would see the day
* “Thanks Luffy.”
* “Anytime!”
* You’ll take it though
* God, just the thought of seeing gear 5 Luffy?
* Like he’s laughing up there, his silhouette hangs in front of the moon
* And it feels like you’re looking at a god
* This is what Patroclus must have felt like watching Achilles in war
* You’re brought to your knees at the sight of him
* His gaze swings to you, that same laugh rings in your ears—Luffy’s laugh
* “There you are! I was looking everywhere for you!”
* His arms wrap around you twice, bending space and time to bring you to him.
* “I missed you!” he says, nuzzling his face into your neck
NSFW
Under the cut
* So like I said he’s somewhere on the asexuality spectrum
* I don’t think he’s sex repulsed, but it’s definitely not the first thing on his mind
* So if you want to have sex with him you’re going to have to initiate
* Be direct, because he doesn’t understand any other way
* “Luffy I wanna sleep with you.”
* He grins, “Of course! We can take a nap together anytime you want.”
* “No, like…I want to have sex with you.”
* Oh.
* Ohhhhhh
* “Yeah, sure.”
* He’s willing to try it out.
* His verdict?
* “It was nice but I wouldn’t go out of the way to do it again or anything.”
* His favorite part was seeing you all flustered and panting with that sweet look in your eyes.
* His heart gets about ten times bigger from the memory alone
* He’d take a picture on a Polaroid and keep it in his pocket if he could
* He might get aroused occasionally, and seek you for some ‘alone’ time for stress relief, but it’s few and far between
* He’s a very confident boy, but this one would get to him
* “Am I enough for you?” He’ll ask one night hence you’re alone
* He’s only ever dreamed about being king of the pirates, about ultimate freedom
* So he never realized what a big deal sex was to other people
* And at the end of the day he doesn’t feel sexual attraction
* Maybe that’s a big deal for you
* You put your arm around him and hold him close
* “You’re more than enough for me Luffy, you’re my dream boy,” you promise
* And if you kiss his forehead afterwards?
* He might actually cry
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carolmunson · 10 months
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always something there to remind me (s.h.)
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summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.
tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops
His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.
It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."
You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'
"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.
He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."
Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.
You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'
"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."
"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.
He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.
"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time. 
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Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."
When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.
A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’  ‘And? It’s my meat.’ 
“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"
“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste. 
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The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half.  "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"
Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.
A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."
"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'
The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.
"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."
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Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"
You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.
"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.
"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."
"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.
"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.
"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."
"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"
"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."
"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.
"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.
"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."
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You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides. 
“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs. 
"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week. 
You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."
His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.” 
His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."
His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."
"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."
"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.
"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"
You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.
"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.
"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"
He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."
"Steve."
"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."
"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."
"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."
"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."
"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.
"Everything good?" she asks.
You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."
She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.
"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."
Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."
"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down.  “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.” 
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He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.
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You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.
His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”
Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. 
Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched  ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.
“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.” 
You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy. 
“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts  between statements. 
“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?” 
You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.
“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?” 
“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.” 
“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?” 
“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn. 
“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?” 
You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 
“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”
“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo.   “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’
“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.” 
thanks for reading. <3
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photmath · 3 months
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NYE Kiss | Trent Alexander-Arnold
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Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Female Reader
Summary: At Trent's New Year's Eve party, he confesses to the reader, his childhood bestfriend, that he's lonely.
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: mention of alcohol, angst, miscommuncation, childhood friends, kiss
Note: Happy New Year!
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With twenty minutes left until the clock struck midnight, Trent’s brothers, Tyler and Marcel were already setting off fireworks. A couple of Trent’s teammates were also in attendance, and some of the friends you and he shared, but there were still a few valuable ones missing.
Despite Liverpool playing a match the next day, Trent still wanted to do something for New Year's Eve, even if it was a bit risky. But he promised Virgil he would kick everyone out by one in the morning so that they had time to be well-rested for the match, luckily it wasn’t a noon match. Even though he had his brothers, parents, and best mates surrounding him, the night still felt—empty. A bitter taste was left in his mouth as he took a swig of his drink, searching for a solution to his ache.
Trent makes his way over to you, a brown bottle pinched between his fingertips. It’s too dark for you to notice if he’s looking at you, but the pause in his step once his eyes land on you gives you everything you need to know. He stops at the pillar of the canopy, face lighting up with the blast of a firework, “Did the fireworks get too much for you already?”
You purse your lips, shaking your head, “No. I just keep having the recurring thought of one of the ashes falling on my hair and it going up in flames.”
The corner of his lip barely tugged up, “That’s quite an image.”
“It’s very rational,” you defend, tugging the sleeve of your knitted sweater over your hands. Trent was dressed way more casual than you, a black pair of sweatpants and a dark gray hoodie. Had you known him and his brothers would dress like that, then maybe you wouldn’t have nearly lost a finger trying to put yourself into your tight jeans tonight.
A beat of silence washes between the two of you as he decides to stay quiet. He wasn’t usually this quiet when the two of you were with his family, but when he was, he was thinking. So in his head that everything else was irrelevant. It could be a battle trying to ground him back to the present sometimes.
“So, how are you?” you break the silence, sparing a weary glance at him.
“Lonely,” he mumbles. He stays facing the alleyway of Tyler’s home where they light another firework and then scramble away from it.
“Lonely at the top,” you sing, referencing his team’s position at the top of the table. Trent gives you a hard look immediately and you quiet down, averting your eyes from his. “Sorry.” There’s a heavy plate of tension that fills the air between the two of you and despite you both being outside, it feels suffocating. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugs, “Everyone is moving.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone moved, I feel like I’m the only one who stayed,” he says. His voice is soft but aloof, still not giving you a glance. “I just thought you would stay. Was a slap in the face to see that your house was for sale.”
It was your parent’s house, the one you grew up in. You lived on the same street where Trent grew up, only three houses separating your families. After riding your bike down the street and dramatically tripping over the rock that you saw at the last minute, Trent came running out of his house and helped you up. Him and his brothers were playing football in the street, the three of them had just gone inside, but he noticed your sparkling pink bike and got distracted looking back at you. Once he realized a kiss to your scarred knee wasn’t going to make the bleeding stop, he called out for his mom and the three of you walked you and your bike back to that house after she cleaned your knee. Trent had stayed by your side the entire time, assuring you that your knee would be okay in the next couple of days.
The sound of a firework exploding shutters you out of the past, forcing yourself to look at a sullen Trent. His bottom lip is tucked through his teeth as his eyes follow the firework’s path. 
“Trent, can you look at me?” Trent slowly looks in your direction and his eyes seem more hurt than he lets on. Much different than the bright eyes that welcomed you two hours ago. You swallow, “Did you think we would live here forever? I mean Jude, Alana, Kai….” You list off the friends and neighbors you both shared who had since then moved away. 
He shakes his head, “Obviously not, but you could’ve told me you were moving.”
“I know, we’ve just both been so busy. We barely put up the house for sale a couple of days ago.”
Trent blinks his eyes a couple of times and doesn’t speak immediately.
“I am lonely though,” he confesses and it stabs you right in the heart. “The season has felt really long, haven’t seen you or the lads that much. I know you go to some of my games, but we don’t speak afterward, and I miss you. I miss having people around that aren’t my family.”
“Trent,” you sigh. “I’m sorry for not being there.”
“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve tried to be there for you either.”
“Trent—”
He cuts you off, “I haven’t had much time either but I dunno…the time I do have at home, it’s so quiet. I’ve been staying at my parents house actually, for the past couple of days because I’ve been sick of the silence. Sure, I could’ve walked to your house but I never did…”
He swallows another swig of his drink, the bitter taste in his mouth had yet to leave. And after chewing on the inside of his cheek for so long, he also tasted copper. He couldn’t blame you for being busy. He knew you had just landed the job you had been working so hard for, at a company that treated you well and respected your work, and with the way Liverpool’s hectic season has been going, he didn’t have much time off either.
You're left with your thoughts screaming at you to say something, but what could you say that would heal his loneliness? That you two could schedule a meet up soon? But it wasn’t concrete, ‘soon’ could be tomorrow, could be a week or before the month ended.
“We should hang out sometime,” you decide. “I’ve missed you too. My schedule is clear for whenever, just let me know.”
He downs the rest of his drink, before tossing it in the bin that Tyler usually has next to the side of the canopy but it’s not there. The bottle goes crashing to the ground but doesn’t break, it rolls off some steps away from him and he ignores it.
“Are you drunk?” you ask, eyebrows raised. You knew he shouldn’t have been drinking the day before his game, even if it was New Year’s Eve.
Trent looks back at you, a tsk leaves his lips, “I’ve only had one.”
“One case?”
“Funny,” he grits, any humor in his tone is gone. “I’m being honest.”
You cross your arms, not realizing you pointing out him drinking would upset him. Yeah, maybe you wouldn’t want to be caught doing something you shouldn't be doing, but Trent had been acting out of character the moment he admitted his loneliness. He was never one to talk about his feelings, always shoving it somewhere down deep that you had given up trying to pry out of him a long time ago because it always upset him more than helped.
“Tell me what’s really wrong,” you demand.
He looks away but you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he glances down to the pavement. The door to the house suddenly bursts open behind you, his mother weaving through you both as if you aren’t standing there.
“Fifteen minutes until midnight!” She announces, and then marches back inside but stops once she notices the two of you, “Oh, you two look so cute. Please, you both can stay in the upstairs bedroom if you get too tired to drive home. I’m sure Tyler won’t mind.”
Her presence seems to break off the tension because Trent lets out a low chuckle, “You know, she always thought it’d be us.”
“Us…what?” You bite the annoyance of him switching the topic away.
“It’d be us,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “That we’d be married and have a kid by now.”
Your eyes bulge at his words. He had to be drunk.
His voice rumbles as he kicks an imaginary rock, “What? Does the idea of starting a family with me repulse you that much?”
“No,” you shake your head frantically, hoping you didn't make him feel more bad than what he was already feeling. If Trent was going to be vulnerable for the last fifteen minutes of the year, then fine, you weren’t going to be petty and let your own feelings get in the way of him being open. You choose your words carefully, “I just—” Screw sparing his feelings. “You’re drunk.”
He rolls his eyes, words spitting out of his mouth in irritation, “It was one drink. One drink does nothing to me other than make me honest. Even then, it wasn’t a high percentage of alcohol.”
Your eyes dance between his dark brown ones. They seem more watery than before, the glow of the light from the inside of the house and fireworks glaring off of them. You look away briefly, “Honest? Like I can ask you any question and you’ll tell the truth?”
“Well,” he shrugs, “I don’t need a drink in me to be honest. I’m always honest to you.”
“That’s a lie,” you remark. “You lied to me when you said I could take your car for a drive.”
He rolls his eyes, “That’s because I value my life.”
You huff, “You didn’t have to be in the car with me, but fine, whatever.” You needed to control any impulsive comment you had. Trent was opening up, this was unchartered territory, and maybe he needed a clean conscience for the New Year more than you did. “I wasn’t repulsed by the idea of starting a family with you, I was just shocked to hear you say that.”
Nothing could’ve prepared you to hear him utter those words. Sure, the two of you shared your first kiss together and took each other’s virginities on the night of your twentieth birthday, but the two of you were never anything more. Never went on a date, never received flowers from him—minus the single daisy he plucked out of the grass one day as an apology for leaving the rock in the middle of the sidewalk—but nothing the two of you did was glaringly romantic. He held your hand for a total of two minutes and fifteen seconds one day underneath the table at a shared family dinner, but nothing came of it either.
He was off focusing on the academy, while you were busy studying in school. Once he did make his first team debut, you were in the stands cheering him on. He felt like the happiest man—boy—that day, having both of your families witness his debut. But still, the bone-crushing hug he pulled you into after you all met in the car park, it meant—nothing.
Even the night you lost your virginity, him as well, it was haste. He was in your bedroom, flipping through the birthday cards you received when you confessed to him that it was comical being a virgin at twenty, feeling the weight of society’s judgment on your shoulders for whatever reason, while he didn’t laugh at all. The liquor you both were sipping on gave you both the courage as you went on, sneakily closing your bedroom door and turning a page. After the both of you came down from your high, he cuddled you for an hour before slipping out of your bedroom window and going home.
Nothing was ever really mentioned after that, the both of you deciding it was best to scrape it under the rug so that it wasn’t awkward at combined family dinners, but there was a feeling. A tingling feeling that made your voice hitch whenever he looked at you or texted you. Any visit you made from uni, your heart did flips when he pulled you into a hug and welcomed you home for that weekend.
He snorts, making your eyes dart to him, “We’re being honest, yeah?”
“I’m telling you the truth,” you say.
He nods, “Okay, I believe you.”
Another moment of silence passes between the two of you and he sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Can I ask you another question?” you mumble and he nods. “Why did your mom think that?”
Trent shrugs for the hundredth time that night, leaning against the pillar as his head rests against it, “Because I told her that I liked you. She said to go for it, I told her I would, but I never did.”
Oh.
Oh.
“When was this?” you muster up the courage and power to ask, feeling breathless.
He blows a raspberry, “Maybe ten years ago?”
You're glad that Marcel misfires a firework that goes flying towards a tree to the left of the house, earning a commotion from Trent’s family and teammates, so that you have time to wipe off the shock before Trent looks at you.
Trent looks at the tree and holds his breath, hoping it erupts into flames. Perhaps he needed a break in the conversation as well. He felt exposed, too vulnerable at the expense of your curiosity and even though he said he would be honest, he wasn’t sure how much more truth he could give out when you weren’t exchanging much back.
“Why are you leaving?” he blurts out.
“You know I don’t live there right?” your eyebrow rises. Surely you told him you moved. “I moved out when I was twenty-two. I live almost ten minutes away, but my parents are moving because they need the money. After I left, they started spending on stuff that they shouldn’t have, putting us into a lot more debt than we should be. So, I say ‘we’ decided to sell because the only reason they were keeping the house was for me. For what it represented.”
Your childhood. A part of you was heartbroken for what it meant, but the other part of you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew it would serve you and your family well.
Trent eyebrows furrow, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you would’ve wanted to help.”
Trent averts his gaze, “I can. I can buy it.”
“Trent,” you gawk. “Seriously, I’m going to accuse you of being drunk again—”
“It’s your childhood home.”
“Yeah, and I made a choice. It was my choice to make.”
His shoulders deflate, “So you did want to leave?”
You nod, “It was time for a change. They lived there for the past twenty years. A home isn’t a single house anyway.”
“Do they have a place for after it sells?”
The quick glance at the floor reveals the almost lie you would’ve told him, but the two of you agreed to be honest, so you shake your head, “No. They haven’t left the house entirely. They still live there and whatever they make from the sale, they’ll use it to purchase their next.”
“I can buy it,” he states again and you shake your head.
“Trent, you aren’t going to buy my childhood home, drop it,” you spit, voice unwavering as he looks back at you. His jaw is clenched.
“Fine,” he agrees. “But if you have any doubts, I can buy it. I’ll give them whatever double the asking price is—”
“Trent.” You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, he’d most likely ask your parents first thing tomorrow and you didn’t even want to think about what their response would be.
He sighs, “Okay.”
Instead of letting the conversation simmer into silence, you take a deep breath and ask him another question. Here goes nothing: “Why didn’t you ever pursue your feelings?”
Trent rotates his body towards yours, leaning against the column with his shoulder. His hands are still stuffed into the pockets of his sweats. “I was fifteen, I was scared.”
At fifteen, the two of you would’ve already shared your first kiss and held hands underneath the table. You were so giddy, but you weren’t sure if you were giddy at the idea of getting caught or because you had a crush on Trent. The two of you spent so much time growing up together, playing footy, exploring the neighborhood, everything. Tyler would often tag along, and then Marcel as well once he got older, but still you knew you were closer to Trent more.
“And they’ve just gone away?” you ask without a second thought. Your heart lurches as he looks away. What a stupid thing to say!
He coughs, clearing out his throat and your cheeks burn. He looks down at the hem of your sweater, “Would my mother still be trying to play matchmaker if not?”
A squeezing feeling encompasses your chest that you wince. The shock was gone, you were upset now. It had been ten years, you could excuse the first five years because they were hectic with you at uni and him training, but the both of you had sex knowing the feelings were there.
Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t have feelings for Trent, they were always still going to be there. He was the first boy you were really exposed to. The boy you followed throughout the neighborhood despite not knowing anything about him. You wanted to be brave and follow him into the woods. Doing all sorts of things you would’ve never done had he not been by your side. The sweet boy who kissed your knee in hopes of getting you to stop crying held your heart the moment he ran to you.
He watches the way your eyes dart from the fireworks to his family members cheering as they drink a champagne flute. The crease in your eyebrow and nose, he knew you were in deep thought. On a night of too many truths, he was exhausted.
“Just say it,” he whispers. “We’re being honest.”
“You watched me,” you start, voice trembling but teeth grinding, “you watched me get my heartbroken not once, but twice. Gave me all this advice on boys, broke my heart in the process because I thought you didn’t like me back, and then I went on to have two relationships where they were both shit. And you just watched? Knowing you felt something?”
Trent can’t stand to hear the shake in your voice, it itching his ear in a way that makes him tilt his head away from you.
You continue, “I liked you too, a lot. So much that I would sometimes scare myself because I would see my exes as you, even though sometimes it would be months since we last talked. You were always on my mind, and had you said something earlier, all of it,” you wave your arms around to symbolize the time and heartache lapsed. “All of it could’ve been avoided.”
Trent glances down, “I was a coward.”
“No shit,” you yell. Trent abruptly looks at the crowd of people and hopes you don’t catch their attention.
“I wasn’t ready,” he says, truthfully. “I wasn’t ready to give you my all if we had gotten together. I was still finding my footing on the team, all of my focus was on that and wouldn’t have been on you if we were together. Okay,” he relents, “maybe I could’ve spared your heartache had you known, but it just—it wasn’t worth all the drama—”
“Drama?”
He shuts his eyes closed. Think! “It wouldn’t have been worth you getting hurt because I had training. Or I had a game and had to miss something important of yours. I would’ve been physically there but not emotionally present—”
“Do you think I would’ve cared, Trent?” you gape.
He shakes his head, “You wouldn’t, and that’s the problem. You wouldn’t have deserved that. You wouldn’t have deserved me not being present, it would’ve driven us both away. The only times I saw my family were because they came to my game and I met them at their suite. That would’ve been the only time you and I interacted, do you seriously think you would’ve been okay with that?”
No. But you would’ve been content knowing he felt the same. The small moments you saw him would’ve made up for any multi-hour-long day spent with him.
“Like you needed to find yourself at uni and focus on what you were passionate about, I did too,” he says. His voice is much softer and less urgent, knowing that you were understanding and on the same page as him. “But I’m ready now. I’m not saying you have to be ready right now—or maybe you won’t ever be because you don’t have the same feelings you once had—but, I’m here now. I’m as present as I’ll ever be. The season started off fast and will continue to be difficult, but I’ve learned how to be present at home. How to not focus on football and be with my family and pets during my spare time.”
On cue, the rest of Trent’s family—and yours—burst through the back door. There are only a couple of minutes until midnight, those fifteen minutes blew right past the both of you. Tyler and Marcel had stopped popping fireworks as they compiled a bunch together to be ignited exactly at twelve.
Trent looks at you, pulling your hand so that you’re closer to him near the pillar as your family members stampede outside, settling in lawn chairs and anywhere on the floor. Trent hasn’t dropped your hand yet. He caresses the backside of your hand with his thumb as his fingers squeeze tighter around yours.
“I know I was a coward, I know I could’ve said it anytime you were around, but it was never the right time,” he whispers in your ear. “We were busy, our lives never aligned perfectly, and maybe they don’t align right now either, but I’m willing to take the risk.”
A breathy sigh escapes you as you soak in his words. You close your eyes as you lean the side of your head against his chest. You needed to be grounded as you thought, and he was always someone stable. His hands don’t wrap you into a hug because he knows exactly what you’re doing.
“I still like you,” you acknowledge. “I’m a little upset you kept this a secret.” He snorts. “But, if I’m being honest, I’m not sure when I would’ve bursted and confessed the same thing. I wanted to tell you that we were moving, especially whenever we were thinking about it when it was first brought up, but I stopped myself. I was scared, because I knew my first instinct to reach out to you meant that it was something more, that I saw you as someone more than just my friend. That I always have. Every failed relationship was a reminder of it.”
Trent chuckles, finally being able to breathe. The tightening feeling in his chest had dissipated, replaced with jittery nerves as he restrained himself from pulling you into a hug.
You drop Trent’s hand and face him. If he was confused, he hid it well.
“I’m willing to take the risk too,” you state, the heavy weight on your shoulders dissolving. “I’m trusting you, just like I trusted you the day I followed you into the woods.”
“We ended up getting lost,” he recalls. He isn’t sure how much longer he can keep his hands off of you.
“I know,” you smile. “But I trusted you still, despite being so scared. I knew you would keep your promise and get us out of there before the moon rose. I’m willing to get lost with you, wherever you are, I want to be there.”
“You trust me?” he cheeses, his lips breaking out further into a grin. A chorus of a ten-second countdown breaks out in the background.
“Of course, stupid,” you smack his bicep and the brief contact makes the both of you hold a breath.
Trent knew he couldn’t get the smile off of his face no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t expect to have this conversation with you tonight, but after seeing you underneath the canopy, your clothes and figure lighting up from the colorful lights of the fireworks, he knew he couldn’t let you walk away from him again. You didn’t even hold his heart in the palm of your hands, you held it in your gaze. One look at him from you and he was floored, a weak and desperate man on his knees begging for your attention.
“…three, two, one, Happy New Year!”
Your blissful eyes combined with his gleeful ones don’t look away as you both lean closer. Your hands stay tucked by your side, his suddenly not wanting to move either as he leans down. The moment your nose grazes his, you close your eyes and let him kiss you. You press your lips further into his as the sound of fireworks go off behind you.
The kiss feels like the first one you shared together, tentative but passionate. It feels like a new promise, one full of commitment for the year to come. A promise from him that he’ll be there for every second of the day, and you a promise to be present as well. To not make him feel like he needs to bottle up his emotions and wait until the last minute to confess them.
His hands find your cheeks at the same time you wrap your arms around his waist. He pulls away and sighs against your lips, resting his forehead against yours. “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”
“Happy New Year,” you smile, pecking his lips one more time before burying your head into his chest. He pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, squeezing your shoulders tightly against him and then resting his head on top of yours.
Instead of letting you close your eyes to soak in the feelings of him being this close in your arms, he shuffles the both of you and points up, “Look up.”
His careful gaze looks down at you as he double checks that you’re actually looking up at the fireworks, but he bursts into a nervous laugh when he sees you looking back at him. You can feel his heart quicken its pace as he stutters, “No, not me. The sky!”
“You’re so happy,” you whisper. Earlier his eyes were on the verge of breaking down, but now, they seem so full of light and hope.
“Yeah,” he slips his hand back around your waist. “I got the girl of my dreams in my arms, my girl.” He enunciates the last two words like they’re a testimony.
Your cheeks rush with heat that you’re glad he can’t feel them. He leaves a chaste kiss on your temple before looking back up at the fireworks. And then he glances down suddenly, “Do you remember when we made that fort in my living room?”
You burst into a laugh, pulling away from his chest, “What?”
“The fort,” he repeats, “it ended up crumbling because Marcel rolled too far and pulled the blankets down—you remember?”
You nod, bewildered by his sudden excitement.
“Well, the spare bedroom of Tyler’s only has a mattress on the floor, but there are some chairs and sofas we can combine to you know,” he lets his voice fade away.
“You have a game tomorrow, maybe you shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”
“It’s a new mattress! That’s why it has nothing else,” he laughs. His laugh is intoxicating that all your logic and usual bickering dies out. He could build the fort, you’d be right there helping him either way.
Your heart swells as his eyes go wide, his face glowing red. He taps your waist, “Look, look look.”
The red firework that just popped erupts into the shape of a heart. You smile, standing on your tippy toes to give him a kiss. To think you’ve been missing this for the past twenty years that you’ve known him. What a fool the both of you were.
That night, Trent holds his promise as you help him build the fort around the mattress. You steal a lantern from Tyler’s shed outside while Trent found blankets to use and old moving boxes. It isn’t an exact replica like the two of you first shared, but it’s quite close, only this time you two are wrapped in each other’s arms.
475 notes · View notes
yuyu1024 · 25 days
Text
Rebound
Pairings: s.coups/seungcheol × y/n
Genre/tags: friends/fwb
Warning: 🔞smut, a little fluff, cursing, semi public, dry humping, handjob, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex/drunk sex, mention of alcohol
(Always be safe and make sure to have consent... always...)
~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]
Words: 2.5k
Disclaimer:
- this story is just made up
- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊
A/N: this might be all over the place since i wrote it while im trying to sleep🫠 Hope you all have a great week ahead....
Brb. 👩🏻‍💻
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You are heart broken right now. Your boyfriend or should we say ex just broke up with you recently. Through text and you haven't gotten the chance to get a grip of it yet. The breakup is still fresh and the way he just dumped you is still painful. He's heartless for doing such thing. No one should ever experience such thing!
"I hate men." You blurt out as you lay down on the mat that you and your friend put down the floor so you guys could lay down whilst star gazing. Of course with alcohol and snacks involve.
"All of a sudden?" Seungcheol heard you as he was just about to come out of his house. "I invited you here at my place... to relax... to entertain you.. for you to stop crying over your ex... then... now you hate men? Even me?" He sound offended
You laugh at his reaction. "Sorry... I can't help it." You say, "Men invades women's lives... flirt with us, make us fall in lovd... then when they feel like they need to go to the next target they'll just throw us like we are nothing..."
"You are not wrong with that... but hey not all men are like that." He sits down next to you, holding a beer on his hand. "Look at me..." he adds
You get up and sit straight next to him, "Yeah... you're a nice person..." you lean your head on his shoulder. "Too nice... even... that's why---"
"Hey. Don't mention the past." He hushes you. "We are talking about your heart break here... not mine that's been years ago."
You giggle at his reaction. "Fine..." you then grab his beer and drink from it. "But just one question.."
"Hmm?"
"Why haven't you dated again after....you know who...?"
"Well... I don't know... I guess... I just haven't found the girl for me yet..."
"Why? Are your standards that high?"
He takes back the beer from your hand. "I'm not like that... I go with my feelings... not like you who goes nuts when you see men with strong arms and built."
"Well," you steal his beer again and drink from it. "I find those traits sexy...how can I resist?"
"Yeah right." He takes his beer again. "Will you stop drinking mine? Just grab one from the cooler... I bought enough for the two of us..."
"But I like yours..." you take it again from him after he just took a sip. "We can always share... we are friends..." You drink the last chug. "Why? Does it bother you?"
"It doesn't. I just thought you'd be the type of person that would be concious about drinking at the same cup or whatever..."
You wipe your mouth with your hand as you put the empty can on the side. "What do you mean?"
"You know... I hear girls at Uni talk about indirect kisses so..."
"Ahh... I see..." you giggle. "How funny... they get so excited by those..."
"You don't?"
"Of course not! It's not like it is a kiss." You roll your eyes. "Making out for sure...is much more exciting..."
"Right." Seungcheol gets up to take another can of beer from the cooler. "Do you want one or you still want to share with me?" He asks as he opens the cooler.
"Grab two... but still we'll share." You say smiling
He shakes head and grab two different kinds. "You are really something..."
***
After a few more drinks and chitchat about your exes, you two finally decided to lay down and watch the stars above you.
With minimal light around you and Seungcheol turning off the lights in the house, just leaving the kitchen lights on where you two will enter back later, the sky is more brighter and clearer in your view.
"Thanks for inviting me here at your family's vacation house..."
"No problem... besides, mom suggested me to bring you here... she said you need this."
"Your mom is so sweet."
"She is... and its a plus because she likes you..."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she always wanted a daughter and I guess....you fit what she dreamed off having..."
"Aww... but...it is a bit sad..."
"Sad? Why?"
You turn over to your side, facing Seungcheol. "Coz I'm not the typical good daughter... and I don't want to disappoint her..."
"Typical good daughter?" He repeats, stunned by your word choice. "You are a good person..."
"Am I?" You laugh and lay down at your back again.
"Yeah... just a little freaky..."
"Freaky?!" You repeat, whipping your head to him. "What do you mean by that?"
"Don't act like you are not..." he smirks, "I've seen you do PDA with your ex."
"And...?" You toss to your side again but this time closer to Seungcheol. "Are you saying I'm freaky because I like to cuddle and touch my man?" You raise your brow at him.
"Don't get insulted. I didn't meant it as a bad way...." he then looks back at you, smiling. "I like freaky to you know... we all have our... kinks..."
"Really? Define... what's freaky for you? What are your kinks?"
"Okay... don't look at me like that..." he laughs, "I don't mean THAT kink... I don't do fifty shades of grey freaky you know..."
"Then... what are the things you like?"
"You really want to know?"
"Of course... coz my freaky may be different from your freaky..." you are grinning
"Hmmm..." he hums, thinking if he should tell you. "Isn't it a bit dangerous to be on a topic like this...?" He asks. Then his eyes starts scanning you from your face to your chest area which is very exposed and in his face right now.
You smirk as you eye him glancing at your cleavage. "Cheolie... are you getting seduced by my boobs right now?" You tease
"How can I not?" He looks away but the corner of his lips is curved into a smile. "You're wearing a verly low V neck shirt right now..."
You giggle at his remarks and then lean in to give your friend a kiss on the cheek which surprised him.
"Why did you kiss me?"
"Nothing... because you are so cute." You say before going back to your original position.
"Me? Cute?" He pouts, "Y/N I just talked about looking at your boobs and you find it cute?"
"I do!" You answer
"You're weird."
"Oh yeah... J am freaky..." you say, laughing.
"You are..." he adds
The two of you suddenly became quiet. The only thing you could hear now is the crackling of the woods in the bon fire and the sound of the breeze and the trees dancing.
"It's getting a bit chilly now..." Seungcheol breaks the silence. "Should we go inside now?"
"No... not yet..." you answer. "I need to do something..."
"Do what--"
Before he could even finish, you already got up and crawled on top of him
"Y/N, what are you doing?"
You move your pelvis, lower than where you are. You are trying to find the perfect spot on top of him.
"Ughh..." he breathes out as you placed your clothed core right on top of his erection. "Y/N...."
"Cheolie... Do you want to make out with me?"
"What??"
You slide your hands from his abdomen to his chest. "We're friends right...?"
"Y/N...." he grabs both your wrists. "I don't think this is a good idea..."
"Please...?" You move your hips, slightly rubbing your core to his bulge and causing him to hiss a curse under his breathe. "You can touch me if you want... I don't mind..."
"You are drunk..."
"No, I'm not..." you frown. "If I'm drunk....I won't be asking for your consent..."
"This is wrong... what you want is not right..."
"I know."
He gets up whilst you are still on hip. "And you still want to?"
You nod.
"Are you trying to use me? As rebound sex?" He chuckles
"I was not suggesting sex yet... but..." you put your arms around his neck and then move your body closer to his, "if you are okay with having sex... I'm game..." you say the few words words in a very seducing manner.
"Why me?"
"Why not?"
He laughs at how serious you are. "You are crazy, Y/N..."
"I know..." you once again rub your clothed core on his erection. Basically dry humping him. "Please...?" Your voice sounded more breathy.
"Damn it." He mumbles as the friction between you two makes him more hard.
"Here." You grab his hand and place it over your boob. "You like my boobs right...?" Then you guide his hand by rubbing his palm over and then squeezing your boob with his hand. "Feel it..." you whisper while letting his thumb feel your hardened nipple through your shirt.
"Fuck, Y/N... you are insane..." he throws his head back, holding on to not crack a smile. He is enjoying your needy side.
"C'mon Cheolie... you are making me wait for too long... do you want to or not?" While you on the other hand is being impatient.
"If I say yes," he says "What happens after we fuck?"
"We can decide after..."
"What if... I want to do it again..."
"Then let's do it again."
He's brows scrunches, "you are okay to with that?"
"Yes..."
"Even though... We are not dating?"
"Seungcheol..." you lean in a kiss him on the cheek again. "Like what we talked about... I am a little freaky... and besides you're my friend..."
"So....we're going to be.... fuck buddies?"
"If you want to..."
"No strings attached? Just... sex?"
"Yes... if I'm horny... I'll call you... and if you are horny and need me... then, call me and I'm willing to fuck you or suck you... anywhere... anytime..."
Shaking his head laughing, "Fucking hell Y/N... you are naughty..."
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah... I know... so now what? Do you want to fuck with me or not? Give me an answer now coz if your not going to... I'll just go to bed..."
"You are very impatient, you know that?" He says smirking whilst his brows is furrowed. He looks amused. "I just want to make sure..." then he places his hand on your waist, sliding them under the hem of your shirt. "You are sure with this... since... we have alcohol in our system..."
"Right..." then as a needy and impatient as you are, you lean in already and started kissing Seungcheol on the lips.
The kiss surprisingly didn't start sloppy or awkward. It just went smoothly and very... arousing.
He is moaning already into the kiss. That's how good it makes him feel already.
"See.... you want it too..." you tease, smiling pulling away and looking at his turned on face.
"Who said I didn't want to?" He then carries you off him and carefully puts you back down the mat. "I wanted to wreck you since this morning when I first saw you wearing this revealing top..." his hand glides up from your tummy to your neck, right under your shirt. The motion lifted your shirt up exposing the lower part of your tits. "Fuck!" He hisses. "Your body is so fucking insane." He lowers his head and starts nibbling your skin from your belly buttom to your underboob.
"Ahh..." you inhale sharply when he sucked your skin and making sure he's leaving a mark. "Are you happy I didn't wear any bra today?" You ask
"The fuck I am." He goes to fully take off your top and start sucking and squeezing both alternately.
You moan at every suck, lick and flick he does. "Oh fuck... yes..." your hips dance every time his tongue touches your nipple.
"You're sensitive. You really like this huh?" He looks up at you while his tongue continues to pleasure you.
You nod your head, smiling while biting your lips.
"Fuck!" You throw your head back the second you felt him cup you down there. And since you're just wearing your black leggings, you could really feel his finger rubbing you there. "Ngggaaaahh..." you breathing heavy
"You sound so sexy...." he hums right st your ears as he watches you react to his strokes.
"You're teasing me too much..." you say
"Do I?" He chuckles
"Let me do the same!"
You are getting competitive now. You don't want to loose even though there is no game. You just know he's enjoying you moan just with just his little touches and licks. But you want him to whimper like you or more.
"Let me show you what I can do for you..." you push him away and then ride him on top again. "It's unfair that I'm the only one moaning in this session...." you move your hands quickly, pushing his jogging pants and his boxers down at the same time. "Dang..." your eyes widened as you see how long and thich he is. "You're hiding this from me?" You gently touch his wet tip.
"I'm not... technically hiding how big I am..." he answers before taking his shirt off. "You know I am big."
"Wow! You are one cocky mother fucker!" You laugh slapping his abs. "Let's see how cocky you'd still be after I make you come..."
"Bring it on." He says, rubbing his palm to your tits. "I've always wanted to know how your mouth feels on my dick..."
"Really? I'm flattered..." leaning in for a sweeet smooch on his lips. "Seems like... you've been having dirty thoughts about me for a while now..."
"I do..." he answers honestly, gazing straight into your eyes as your faces are just inches away. "I've been a bad friend..."
You kiss the corner of his lips. "It's fine.... I like bad boys..." you whisper sensually before you wrap your hands completely around his length.
You start slowly, pumping him while your eyes are glued to his. You want to see his face, his expression change while you squeeze him. You want to see him melt under your touch.
"Y/N... fuck!" He's breathing goes hectic as you now start to lick him. You are teasing him the way he teased you. "Ahh!" He growls when swirl your tongue on the tip.
Now, you begin to take him all in. Your whole mouth wrapped around his length. You are drooling at how big he is in your mouth but its worth it. His moaning and whimpers are all music to your ears.
"I think I'm going...t-to explode... fucking hell Y/N!"
You give him a final lick from buttom to top before giving him sensual kisses on his abdomen and then to his pecks.
"Do you want to explode inside of me?"
Those words pumped his adrenaline even more. You know it did coz his dick got flexes and got more harder than what it is. He even got up as quickly as he can and take you in for a kiss before he warns you and says, "Now, let me fuck you real good... raw and hard."
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luxaofhesperides · 4 months
Text
Surprise husbands + "How are you real?" ; requested by @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff!
They may not have planned to get married, or even wanted it all too much at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to treat each other right. It was rough going, with both of them coming out of relationships and having secret identities, but time had softened the hurt feelings and allowed them to actually get to know each other.
And Danny, Duke has discovered, is a really good husband. 
Neither of them ever saw themselves as married at 20, but sometimes life throws horrible curses at you and the embodiment of balance and life and death swoops in to save your life. Via marriage. 
His life is weird, okay? Duke has made his peace with it.
The thing is, if they had met naturally and started off as friends, Duke could see himself falling for Danny and asking him to marry him in a far off future. Instead, they’re doing everything backwards: married, then going on dates to know each other, and finally feeling close enough to be friends. 
It helps that Danny does his best to communicate and that helps Duke find the words he needs as well. 
He’s sweet, too, so kind and doting and affectionate. Like a really lovable cat, honestly. Duke’s never been cuddled so much in his life and he’s loving every minute of it. 
He… might be falling in love with his husband. What a revelation.
“Duke?” 
He blinks, looking up from his half-empty plate, pulled out of his thoughts suddenly. Tim and Dick stare at him, concerned, and he realizes he’s missed the entire conversation because he was so preoccupied thinking about Danny. In his defense, it was their one year anniversary the night before and Danny had kissed him for the first time after a date night spent playing video games and talking shit about their respective rogues. 
Tim snaps a finger in front of his face, and Duke startles. He got distracted by his Danny Thoughts again.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“You okay? You’ve been out of it all day,” Dick says, clearly concerned.
“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s all good. Just… adjusting.”
“To what? Did something happen?”
Duke shrugs, scooping up another forkful of pasta to shove in his mouth. “Yeah, I… this is going to sound kind of stupid, but I think I’m in love with my husband.”
Tim, taking an ill-timed drink, chokes and spits out his Zesti. Dick springs back, trying to get out of the spray zone but doesn’t move far, shocked still by Duke’s words.
“Oh, yeah,” Duke realizes, “I didn’t tell you guys, did I?”
“You’re married?!” Tim shrieks as Dick clutches at his chest, eyes wide.
“You didn’t tell me?” Dick asks, offended.
“Seriously? That’s what you focus on?”
Duke smiles as they begin to bicker. They do it constantly, but this time it’s halfhearted, as if they’re just going through the motions of something familiar to distract themselves from the bomb he’s dropped on them.
In all fairness, Duke did forget that he didn’t tell them that he’s married to Danny. He’s also only mentioned Danny once or twice and heavily implied that Danny was just a classmate at GCU. And then forgot that he didn’t tell them, assuming that they’d figure it out eventually being Batman trained detectives, after all.
Well. 
Oops.
Clearly that is not the case. Duke hurries to finish his pasta before Tim and Dick finish their joint freak out and get their senses back together enough to interrogate him. He can’t escape it, but he refuses to have this discussion with an empty stomach. 
He just barely manages to scrape the last mouthful off the plate when his fork is being yanked out of his hands. Tim and Dick close in on him, standing to either side of him, trapping him in place, and look at him with knife-sharp smiles.
Here we go, Duke thinks tiredly, and resigns himself to clearing up this misunderstanding.
Somehow, he manages to explain the situation (I got cursed, he saved my life, we ended up married because magic is bullshit, he treats me so well) and Tim and Dick both agree to not hunt down Danny to show him the wrath of older brothers on one condition: Danny has to join them for a family dinner.
“Don’t worry, we’ll catch everyone up on your… situation,” Dick says, pulling on his jacket to head out. Tim is already on his phone, no doubt telling someone already. 
“Great,” Duke says, unenthused. “You’ll also be answering all the questions because I’m not in the mood. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to figure out a day that works for all of us, and then I’m going to kick my husband’s ass in Mario Cart.”
He walks out the door, grinning as he hears them scramble after him, then twists the ring on his finger (not a wedding ring, but a magic portal making gift) and steps into the portal. It closes quietly behind him, leaving him in Danny’s lair, a comfortable, spacious house with high ceilings and little bits of his personality scattered about. There are soft rugs with geometric patterns on them, star maps on the wall, stained glass windows that throw colors across the floor, and a giant couch and pillow pit in the living room.
Danny’s asleep in it, curled up and looking completely at peace. Duke toes off his shoes and carefully makes his way over, footsteps silent so he doesn’t wake him up, all plans of Mario Cart fading away instantly.
Danny doesn’t get much sleep, with the stress of school and an internship and ghost fights to worry about. It’s why his lair is so quiet and comfortable; it’s what he needs, and he doesn’t let anyone else in without invitation, rare as it is.
Duke is allowed to waltz right in thanks to the ring Danny gave him. It never stops making him feel overwhelmed by how much trust Danny puts in him to allow him unlimited access to what is his only true sanctuary, letting his lair be a place of safety and respite for Duke as well. 
He crawls into the pillow pit, There’s no way to do this without waking Danny up since he can’t fly, so he isn’t surprised to see Danny blink his eyes open, still looking soft and content. He smiles when he sees Duke, reaching a hand out to him that Duke gladly takes, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his palm.
Sitting up, Danny tilts his head up in a silent request. Duke happily obliges, still reeling over the fact that he’s allowed to do this! He can kiss his husband whenever he wants! 
Yeah, he’s going to be riding that high for a while.
“Hey,” Danny murmurs, sleepy and quietly pleased to see him.
“Hi honey,” Duke returns fondly, “Have a nice nap?”
Danny nods, leaning into Duke and closing his eyes again. “Mhm. How long are you staying? I wanna cuddle.”
“I got nothing going on today. I’m all yours, baby.”
“C’mon,” Danny tries to tug him down. Duke goes slowly, covering Danny’s body with his own, but holds himself with one hand before he blankets his husband completely.
“Wait. There’s something we need to talk about.”
Immediately, the sleepy haze is fading from Danny’s eyes, leaving him alert. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”
“Not really? You know how we agreed to keep our marriage a secret until we weren’t in danger anymore and all those cultists and sorcerers were taken care of?”
“...Yes?”
“Well.” Duke sucks in a breath and offers a bashful smile. “Guess who forgot to tell people we were married after that whole mess was dealt with?”
The nervousness clears from Danny’s gaze as he stares up at Duke with incredulous amusement. “No. No way.”
“Yeah. Kinda dropped a bomb on them and they started freaking out over me being married. Anyways, they want you to come to dinner?”
“When?”
Duke leans back, sitting on his heels. “Let me check.” He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to the group chat asking for a day they could have a family meal to meet his husband.
His phone is bombarded with texts and calls immediately until Barbara, bless her entire soul, forcibly mutes all of them and puts in a poll with a few dates, setting the poll to close in 24 hours.
“Okay, well, they’re deciding now, but probably soon.”
Danny nods. “Alright. I know these aren’t normal circumstances at all, but I’m so excited to meet the Bats.”
“You do not mean that after hearing all my stories about them.”
“No, I do!” Danny laughs, surging up to wrap his arms around Duke and pull him back down to lay among the giant pillows with him. “They sound nice!”
“The Bats sound nice?!” Duke repeats in horror. “Did you hit your head?”
“They do sound nice! You talk about them so fondly, and yeah they have problems and are dysfunctional, but they’re heroes. Of course they have problems. Even with all their baggage, they’re kind. And you clearly love them, so I do too.”
It’s hard to resist the urge to hug Danny tight enough to make him squeak while peppering his face with kisses, so Duke doesn’t. He just goes and does it, because he’s allowed to shower his husband (!) with affection (!!!) as much as he pleases.
“How are you real?” he says against the corner of Danny’s lips. “How are you so perfect! To me specifically! Honey, if we weren’t already married, I’d be going down on one knee right now.”
“I mean, you still can. We never got a proper wedding either. Think if we offer them a chance to help plan our wedding, they’ll forgive us for secretly being married for so long?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Duke says. He’s already giddy, just imagining what their wedding will look like, what song they’ll play for their first dance, where they’ll have the ceremony… He should create a Pinterest account to start putting ideas together. 
Later, though. He wants to woo Danny properly and take him on so many dates.
Dates which include dinner with the Waynes and Wayne-adjacents, apparently.
“You sure you’re okay with meeting them over dinner?” he asks, just to be sure. He knows how intense they can be, even when pretending to be normal civilians. It took him years to get used to them, himself, and he doesn’t want to push Danny into doing something he’s not ready to do.
Danny cups Duke’s face in his hands and gives him a quick, reassuring kiss. “I’m sure. If nothing else, it’ll be fun to see how long it takes for them to realize I’m not fully human.”
“I really am glad it’s you.”
“Yeah, me too. I’d choose you all over again if given the choice.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Duke laughs, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist.
“Can we nap now? Now that you’re here and holding me, it’s taking everything I’ve got to stay awake.”
“Yeah, we can nap now.” Duke settles into the pillows, Danny cradled in his arms and closes his eyes to bask in the quiet easiness of it all. 
He really couldn’t ask for a better husband, unexpected as he was. The others will see that too, once they meet him. It’s impossible to not love Danny once you meet him; Duke knows this all too well.
He loves his husband.
And his husband loves him back.
Duke is fully prepared to keep making that choice for the rest of his life.
427 notes · View notes
writerracha · 1 year
Text
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ just a kiss — han jisung x female reader
↻ 3.7k :: friends to lovers :: cw. alcohol (not in the smut scene). semi-public making out. dry humping. some dirty talk. fingering. oral sex. mention of squirting. use of "baby" pet name. protected sex. aftercare.
↻ 18+ :: not proof read, pls be kind :: masterlist
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
The music is not that loud, but combined with the sound of conversation and the video game on the television, the apartment is noisy.
It’s also warm from everyone that is packed there. Both of those things you are used to, because it’s always the same. Every month, your friends organize a party at their place, and you’re guaranteed to have a fun night full of drinking, playing games and talking. At this point, Jisung and Changbin’s parties have become legendary in your friend circle, and you never miss one. 
Tonight, though, you feel a little tired, and the alcohol isn’t sitting right in your stomach. You stop drinking early, focusing instead on playing a few rounds of a board game before you head towards the living room. You find Jisung there, who has been a little quiet, and waves at him. He waves back, so you join him. You fall back on the couch, letting your head rest against his shoulder. You look up at him with a smile, and he answers with one of his own. 
“You look bored, Ji,” you tell him. 
“I’m not bored,” he retorts, pouting slightly. “Just… I’m just…” 
You frown. “Is something on your mind?” 
He takes a deep breath, and you sit up to look at him better. He doesn’t look upset, perhaps just a little too calm, twirling the cup half-full of soda in his hand. Jisung is usually the life of the party, but you know he has to work early tomorrow morning and decided not to drink tonight. 
“It’s just…” He winces. “It’s stupid.” 
You shake your head. “I’m sure it’s not stupid. Come on, you can tell me.” 
You nudge his thigh a little, encouraging him with a smile. The both of you have been friends for months now - and you really like spending time with him. He’s talented, smart, the funniest you know. Jisung gives you a quick look.��
“Is it just me or is everyone getting laid these days?” he finally blurts out.
You blink in surprise, unable to suppress a small laugh. Jisung rubs the back of his neck at your reaction. 
“Told you it was stupid,” he mutters. 
“I’m sorry I laughed!” you reply. “It just surprised me. But…” You let out a long sigh. “You’re right, now that I think about it.” 
You look around the room. Case in point: Hyunjin is heavily making out with his latest girlfriend, and Jeongin has already disappeared with a hook-up. Changbin has a girlfriend, Felix too… You bite your lip. 
“I just realized it’s been a while since I even kissed someone, you know,” Jisung says. “I miss kissing. I like kissing.” 
You smile. “Kissing is fun, I agree.” 
You turn back to Jisung, who is sliding a hand through his messy blonde hair. He has let it grow a little the past few weeks, and you like the way it falls back on his forehead. He’s dressed casually, in just a black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, but he has this natural charm that lingers around him. You cross your legs next to him. 
“Maybe we can find someone for you to kiss tonight,” you tell him with a smile. 
Jisung glances at you. “I don’t think so.” 
“Why not? There’s plenty of people…” 
He shrugs. “There’s no one here I’m interested in.” 
You open your mouth, but then you close it again. Why do his words sting so much? You like Jisung, but not in this way… At least, you don’t think so. Frowning, you realize you haven’t answered anything, and your friend blushes a little. 
“I’m sorry, that was a little blunt, I didn’t mean -” 
“It’s fine, oh my god,” you chuckle. “We can find someone. I have friends that are not here tonight… I don’t think you know them, so maybe I can find a match, if you want?” 
You’re smiling at him. Jisung looks back at you, his lips parted, his smooth cheeks still a little pink. After a few seconds, he nods, although he looks nervous. 
“Yeah. Okay, why not.” 
You grin, pull out your phone from your pockets and scoot closer to Jisung. “Let’s see who we have.”
Jisung slides his arm behind you so the both of you are more comfortable looking at your phone. You scroll through your contacts, pulling up Instagram profiles to show your friends to him. Jisung provides some commentary, helping you find the perfect match. As the minutes go by, it gets more and more difficult to focus - you realize that Jisung smells really good. His body is warm next to yours. His breath tickles your skin when he laughs, and his eyes shine in the dark. You haven’t been drinking that much - but you’re a little tipsy, and you end up leaning against him, perhaps a bit too much. 
“Hmm, I don’t know… She says she’s really into the outdoors, I’m not,” Jisung chuckles as he checks a profile you show him. 
“True,” you laugh. “You’re a homebody like me.” 
“I really like her style, though. Combat boots are hot.” 
You stop for a second, unable to help from glancing at your own shoes. At the combat boots you are wearing right now, and that you wear almost everyday. You decide not to comment on it, but Jisung is strangely silent next to yours. Swallowing, you open another profile. 
“W-what about her?” 
“I like her glasses. What is she like?” 
This time you definitely blush, and you are glad for the darkness in the room. Pushing your glasses higher on your nose, you tell Jisung about your friend, trying to ignore the erratic heartbeat in your chest. Why are you freaking out? Jisung clearly said he was not interested in anyone in this room… And you’ve never felt anything but friendship for him. Of course, you’re not blind, Jisung is handsome, and always kind to you. 
An hour later, you two have settled on your friend Lola - she’s a music major like you and Jisung thinks she’s cute. It’s enough to justify a date, and you know her well enough to be comfortable to ask if it’s all right to give Jisung her number. 
You try really hard not to stare at Jisung’s mouth, and not to let the words slip through your lips. You can kiss me if you want. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
But then again, why wouldn’t you? 
Later that night, after you’ve had a few drinks to try and get Jisung out of your thoughts, you go to the bathroom. You’re tipsier, maybe a little drunk. You walk in front of Jisung’s bedroom, whose door is open. It seems like he’s just getting a charger from a drawer. You don’t think - you just enter the bedroom and approach him. 
“Oh, hey,” he says, noticing you, holding the cable in one hand. “Chan needs a charger, I just…” 
“Jisung,” you tell him, putting your arms on his shoulders. 
He blinks at you, chuckling a little nervously. “What’s up, Y/N?” 
“You can kiss me if you want.”
“W-what?” he sputters.
You pout. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Consider it practice. For your date with Lola.” 
Jisung gulps, looking at you, trying not to let his eyes linger in yours for too long. You’re looking so pretty, with your glasses slipping down your nose. Jisung has been trying not to think about kissing you all night - and now you’re just offering it to him. You’ve been drinking, but you’re not completely drunk. You just got liquid courage. Jisung is painfully sober. 
You smile softly. “I won’t be hurt if you say no, if that’s -” 
“Okay.” 
Your heart skips a beat as Jisung smiles shyly at you. He takes a step closer to you, his hands landing on your hips, the charger forgotten in his fingers. 
“Just a kiss,” he whispers, leaning in. 
Your lips meet his halfway. The kiss is delicate and timid at first, but as you fall into the embrace, Jisung kisses you with more confidence. His lips are soft, taste like the soda he’s been sipping all night. You can’t help but wrap yourself around him, because he kisses you so well you’re getting dizzy.
Jisung breathes out in your mouth and you feel your body shiver. You want his hands all over your body. You want his lips to keep pushing yours, to go down your neck, your collarbone… 
You both lean back at the same time, staring at each other with wide eyes. 
This was a little too good. 
Your mouth feels dry, and Jisung’s hands are still on your hips. His lips look intoxicating, all red and wet from yours. 
After a few seconds you let out a nervous chuckle. “That didn’t feel like you haven’t kissed anyone in a while.” 
Jisung laughs, taking a step back, removing his hands from your body. He slides a hand through his hair. You wish it was yours instead. “Really?” 
“You’re good, Ji,” you assure him with a sincere smile. “Lola is a lucky girl.” 
“R-right.” 
You bite your lip, wondering if you’ve just made a horrible mistake. But even if it is, you can’t regret it. 
“I-I should head back,” you say.
“Yeah, me too, Chan is waiting for his charger…” 
You nod, and Jisung lets out a laugh. You don’t know why, but that relaxes you. You shake your head, sharing an amused glance with him, and you both head back to the party. 
Just a kiss between friends.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
The next day, late in the evening, you find Jisung in a corner of the library, bent over his computer, clearly deeply focused on what he is doing. Still, when you sit down next to him, he removes his headphones. You had texted him a few minutes before, telling him you had news.
“Hey, what’s up?” he whispers. 
“I spoke with Lola.” You keep your voice low. There’s not that many people around in this part of the library, but there’s still a few students studying around. 
Jisung’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh.” 
You give him a triumphant smile. “She said she’s interested! I have her number, you can just text her, and…” 
You stop as you watch Jisung’s face. He does not look happy - in fact, he’s looking down at his hands, biting his lip, like there’s something he’s not telling you. You frown.
“What’s wrong?” 
He clears his throat, looking uncertain. 
“It’s okay if you changed your mind -” 
“Y/N…” 
Something about the way he calls your name freezes you into place. You look at him as his eyes meet yours, your breath suddenly unsteady. 
The truth is you haven’t stopped thinking about kissing Jisung since last night’s party. Your eyes keep wandering on his mouth, his plump lips. He smells good. His arms look like they could hold you tight…
“I’ve been thinking about all day, and… I don’t want to go on a date with Lola,” he breathes, his eyes still in yours. They shine so bright and deep. You feel dizzy. “I…” 
You so desperately want the words to escape his lips. Has he been thinking about the same thing as you? 
“About last night…” 
You look down at your hands. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about it. It was just a kiss. Like I said, it didn’t mean anything.” 
You glance at Jisung, who is frowning. When your eyes meet, he just nods. “Right. Of course. Sorry.” 
There’s a sinking feeling in your chest. You need some air - so you give a quick smile to your friend. “I need to go. I’ll see you later.” 
You stand up and walk away, crossing through bookshelves, the eerie quiet of the library oppressing your mind. You can’t regret kissing Jisung. But you should have waited, maybe. For a better time, a better place. Now you are scared to lose your friend.
“Y/N, wait.” 
You feel a hand around your wrist, and you spin around to find Jisung. He has visibly thrown all of his things in his messenger bag, looking distressed. You frown.
“What is -” 
“I don’t want to go on a date with Lola because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathes. “Ever since last night, and even before…”
You don’t know what to say. Your heart is beating so fast in your chest you feel it’s going to explode. Jisung slips his hand from your wrist to take your fingers between his. He steps closer to you, and you look up at him in wonder. 
“Please, Y/N… If you want to, can I kiss you again?” 
The answer is simple - you nod. Jisung drops his bag on the ground and immediately pushes his lips to yours in an intense and deep kiss. A soft moan escapes you, and he gently pushes you against the bookshelves. You are trapped against his body, your hands sprawled on his chest as he kisses you feverishly. His lips toy with yours, his hands cupping your face. 
“Ji…” you breathe, “don’t stop kissing me.” 
“I won’t,” he answers, placing small kisses on your lower lip. “I can’t.” 
You open your mouth wider for him, and he slides his tongue, pushing it against yours. You arch your back, the feeling sending warmth throughout your body. Jisung does not waver, still playing with your tongue, but you feel his hips gently push against yours. 
It’s so silent in the library, all you hear is the wet sounds of your mouths and Jisung’s heavy breathing. 
“Fuck…” he groans. “You’re gonna get me hard.” 
The words make you instantly dizzy, and you can’t deny your own arousal. Jisung’s kisses and tongue is making you wet. 
“Can we go back to your place?” you ask softly. 
He nods, taking a step back. Your lips are raw from kissing, your cheeks red from your excitement. Jisung smiles at seeing you this way - you look so attractive, he can hardly contain himself. He takes his bag from the ground, slides his hand in yours, and guides you to the exit of the library.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
You do not even know if the apartment is empty - but honestly, you do not care. Jisung pulls you into his room, closing and locking the door behind him, and you can hardly breathe. You just want him to touch you, to kiss you again. 
When his lips find yours again, you don’t hesitate to moan at his touch, grasping his t-shirt to bring him closer to you. He wraps his arms around you, his fingers digging in the skin of your hips, breathing hard. 
“C’m’here,” he breathes, and spins you around so he can guide you to his bed. 
Soon he’s laying on top of you, carefully removing your glasses to set them down on the bedside table. Your fingers are in his honey colored hair, and his lips leave a trail of kisses on your jaw and down your neck. His tongue laps at your sensitive skin, making your body jolt at the same time. You’re drenched, aching for more of him, and it’s reciprocal - you feel his erection against you. 
He removes your shirt, palming one of your tits through your lace bra, pressing the back of his thumb on your nipple. It draws a sharp breath from your lips and Jisung smiles. 
“Is that sensitive?” 
You nod, and he pinches your nipple softly. You let out a moan. 
“You sound so beautiful, baby.” 
“Ji, you’re so hard,” you whisper to him, and you wrap your legs around his waist so that his erection is placed right against your cunt. Despite both of your jeans you can feel the pressure and it sends a shiver through your spine. 
“Fuck,” he grunts as you rolls your hips. “Fuck…” 
He starts to thrust his pelvis, rubbing himself over you, as if he was already fucking you. The friction makes you clench around nothing. Jisung dry humps you, his cock hard inside of his jeans, and your own walls soaked in your arousal. You’re desperate to get rid of the layers of clothing, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. 
“F-fuck, I want to fuck you so hard…” Jisung breathes in your ear, teasing your lobe with his teeth. 
You’re digging your nails in the skin of his back, so warm you feel like you’re on fire. “Ji, please, I want to feel you.” 
“Me too, baby, let me see that beautiful body of yours.” 
You both start to take off the rest of your clothing, stealing restless glances to each other. When you are both naked, Jisung takes a long look at you, and you do the same. He’s much more defined that you have thought, and you think about those hours he spends with Changbin at the gym. Kneeling on the bed straddling your legs, he stares at you, mouth parted, one of his hands jerking his erect cock mindlessly. You bite your lip, pressing your tits together to tease him, and Jisung smirks. 
“What a cute little tease,” he smiles. “I’m going to do much more than kiss you now.” 
“I hope so,” you tell him, grabbing his chin in between your fingers to pull him back to you. But instead of aiming for his lips, you turn his head and whisper in his ear. “You can do whatever you want to me.” 
Jisung grins, grabs your hand and pins it against the mattress. He leans in towards your ear now. “I hope you know what you’re asking for.” 
Before you can answer, he flips you on your stomach, and you gasp in surprise. He rubs your ass gently, pushing your thighs with his warm hands. 
“Arch that back for me, baby.” 
Jisung spreads your legs once you are in position, and you feel his breath against your aching cunt. You’re soaked, your swollen clit begging to be touched. You hear him hum in appreciation. 
“What a beauty,” he says. “All wet for me.” 
He slides a finger across your wetness, and you close your eyes to bask in the sensation. Jisung plays with you, his fingers tracing patterns, circling your clit. You breathe hard, shivering against his touch. He inserts a finger inside of you, and then two. 
“Taking me so well,” he growls. “I’m going to stretch your beautiful cunt. It belongs to me now…” 
“Jisung, please…” 
“What is it, baby?” 
“Make me cum, please, I’m begging you…” 
Jisung moves his fingers inside of you, curving them upwards, drawing a loud moan from your lips. “Like this, baby?” 
“F-fuck, yes…” 
He starts to finger you relentlessly, building your orgasm quickly - your breathing accelerates, your folds throbbing, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, Jisung pushes his tongue against your folds, licking you, drinking your in. The combination with his fingers is almost too much to handle, and you cum in a flash, your body shivering. 
“Yes, baby,” he moans. “Keep cumming, come on…” 
He doesn’t stop fingering and licking you, giving you a long, intense orgasm. You can feel your juices overflowing, drenching his fingers and his chin, and when your body relaxes, and he slows down, you’ve made a mess.
Jisung hums, and you hear him lick his fingers clean. “Next time I’m going to make you squirt,” he tells you. “I know I can do it. And I’ll lick you clean, baby.” 
You shudder, but you sit up, twisting your body so you can steal a kiss from him. His lips taste like you, his cock pushing against your ass, and you lower a hand to palm him. 
“Are you going to put that big cock inside of me, huh?” you tease him, jerking him. “I want him so much.” 
“My baby, so desperate for me,” he growls, and he takes your arms, pinning them on your back and pushing you back on the bed. “Don’t move.” 
You obey him as he takes a condom from his bedside table, wraps it around his cock, and then places it against your entrance. 
“Why did we never fuck before?” he suddenly asks, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you. “It’s like you’re made for me, baby.” 
You can barely think as he slowly enters you. “I don’t know, Ji. I can’t think…” You gasp as he suddenly bottoms out, filling you whole, stretching your walls. It doesn’t hurt, though. 
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, grabbing your wrists to hold them in place. He leans over you, pushing you more into the mattress, and starts to fuck you. 
The sound of his hips smacking your ass, your wet cunt sucking him in, your moans and his heavy breathing fill the bedroom. If someone is in the apartment there is no doubt as to what you are doing, but you don’t care. Jisung is making you lose your grasp on reality, and you can hardly believe that hours before you were stressing out over a kiss. This felt right. Your heart swells in your chest, because as he pounds into you, you feel like you’ve found your person. 
“You hear that? God, your cunt is soaking my dick. Fuck, that’s so hot.” 
“I’m going to cum, fuck, fuck fuck!” 
He accelerates his thrusts and pushes you into the mattress so he can go deeper, and you cum for a second time, your legs shaking as you do, and Jisung lets out a guttural grunt. 
“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna -” 
“Cum for me, Ji, please…”
He slams into you as his cock twitches, and he removes himself just in time to take off the condom. You feel spurts of white on your ass and back, Jisung covering you as he breathes hard and fast. You’re still coming down from your own orgasm, drunk on the scent, sound, and feel of him. 
“Don’t move,” he says after a few seconds. 
You feel him clean your skin with a t-shirt, and he guides you back on the mattress. You lay down, your legs and cunt sore, and take a look at Jisung through half-closed eyes. His hair is a mess, his eyes glassy from the orgasm, and he looks more attractive than you’ve ever seen him. 
You whimper, grabbing his arm. “Kiss,” you plead. 
He chuckles as you press your lips to his. He kisses you tenderly, stroking your hair, snuggling next to you. Slowly, he draws the covers of the bed from under you to cover your bodies, keeping you close. You stay in his arms, sleepy but peaceful, your smile unable to go away. 
Jisung places a kiss on your shoulder. “Sleep a little, baby, yeah?” he whispers in your ear. “Then I’ll wake you up for another round.” 
You just nod.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
thank you for reading ♡ if you liked this, please consider leaving a comment in the tags or in the replies, or even writing me a message!!
2K notes · View notes
of-many-fandomss · 1 year
Note
jake seresin being drunk and coming home to the reader and it's basically just really cute and full of fluff!!
My first top gun blurb!! (I’m so mad I had to rewrite this cause it deleted the first time and it isn’t as good this time cause I don’t remember what I wrote)
—————
Jake was vaguely aware of the fact that he reeked of alcohol, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care as he stumbled through the short hall towards his bedroom, making a small game out of trying not to hit the walls in his drunken state.
Rooster had just dropped him off at home after a ‘guys night out’ at the Hard Deck for their first week off in a long time that may or may not have ended in one too many beers. Originally, he had insisted on staying home with you, to which you laughed and practically had to tackle him out the door to make sure he went to enjoy himself with his friend.
Clumsily, Jake flailed around for the handle, but stopped short as soon as he threw the door open. A person was sitting up against the headboard of his bed, eyes widening a little bit in surprise as they looked up from the book they held open in their lap.
A small smile formed on your lips at the sight of him standing in your doorway looking around in confusion, noticing right away that he was slightly drunk.
“Hey, honey-“
“Who are you?” He hissed in a whisper, “What are you doing in my house?”
The grin widened on your face when you realized just how drunk he was, and you feigned confusion, deciding to play along, “What do you mean?”
He sighed patiently, “Listen, you look lovely, but that’s my girlfriends spot you’re sitting on. And I really love her, so you need to leave.”
“I am your girlfriend,” You smirked, sliding off the bed and striding across the room until you were standing right in front of him, knowing full well that the two of you had been happily married for just over two years. But you also knew from past experiences that mentioning that would send your husband into a whole different spiral of emotions in his drunken state.
His eyes squinted at you until his mouth dropped open in realization and he relaxed, “Oh, darlin’ thank goodness your back,” His southern accent was thicker than it normally was when he was sober, “There was this women on your side of the bed, but I told her to get lost because I love you!” He stated proudly.
“Good job, honey,” You cooed out your praise, bringing his arm to rest around your shoulder so that you could lead him into the bathroom.
You sat him down on the closed toilet seat and made your way over to the sink to get him a cup of water, his eyes trailing after you in adoration the whole way, before you came back and handed it to him, “Drink all of this for me, will you, honey?”
“Yes, ma’am,” He murmured, causing your lips to quirk up slightly.
“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get you something more comfortable to wear for bed,” You gave him a quick kiss on the top of the hair before leaving the bathroom.
He frowned after you, rocking back and forth against the seat and waited for you to return.
You barley even stepped foot back into the room a moment later before he sprang up and came barreling towards you, wrapping you into a bone-crushing embrace tightly, burying his face into your hair, “Thank goodness your back!” He gushed, “I missed you so much when you were gone!”
Laugher bubbled up inside you as you wrapped your arms around your husbands torso in return, “I wasn’t gone that long, Jakey.”
“It was too long,” He whimpered back.
Carefully, you pried his hands off of you after a moment and handed him a stack of folded sleep clothes you had just taken out of his drawer.
“Can you get changed?” You asked, to which he nodded his head excitedly and whipped around, accidentally knocking over the half full cup that he had placed on the ground in the process.
“Oh, here, I got-“
“I got it!” He interrupted you excitedly, not even hesitating to shed off his shirt and bend down to start mopping the water off the floor with it.
You blinked once at his toned back, chuckling slightly to yourself at how fast he had reacted to reveal his bare top to clean up a small pile of water.
He stopped suddenly, smirking up at you, “Unless you would rather take off your shirt and do this,”
That at least emitted a loud laugh at you as you shook your head at your cocky husbands antics and helped pull him to his feet once he was all done cleaning up his mess.
You helped him put on the rest of his pajamas- mostly just making sure he didn’t fall into the bathtub- before taking his hand and starting to pull him to the room so that you could both go to sleep.
You were stopped though at a tug of resistance you felt on your arm, and you looked back to question Jake, only to find him frowning down at your intertwined fingers.
“What’s wrong, honey?” You asked worriedly.
Slowly, he lifted your hand to reveal none other than the breathtakingly beautiful, shiny ring that he had used to propose to you with a couple years ago, “You’re cheating on me?” He asked quietly, a look of nothing but devastating heartbreak on his face.
Your eyebrows furrowed slightly before your eyes widened, remembering that you had let him believe that you were still boyfriend and girlfriend, “No, no, Jakey! You’re my husband! We’re married!”
His eyes snapped up to you as his bottom lip quivered and tears began to sine in his eyes, “We are?” He addled quietly.
You quickly took his face between your hands and made him look you in the eyes, “Yes! We’ve been married for two years now!”
Automatically, as if nothing had happened, his features cleared of all sorrow and he grinned at you with a lovesick expression, “Oh, that’s good.”
You threw your head back with a laugh, continuing your journey to the bed, “Yes, that’s very good.”
Even as you helped him slide under the covers, he never once took his gaze off of you, and as you tried to move to get the light switch, you felt his strong but gentle grip stop you once more, “You’re pretty,” He commented, gaze wide and childlike.
You had to physically stop yourself from laughing, knowing that it would do nothing but upset his feelings because he never called you pretty. It was always gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, sexy- not pretty.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” You teased, unconsciously moving a hair out of his face.
“Nuh uh!” He exclaimed, shaking his head back and forth widely, “Only you!”
Your heart melted right then and there and you bent down and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead, “Thank you, Jake.”
Yet again, you tried to go and move, but his hand was still to let go of yours, so you turned back to him to see what he needed.
His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at you, “What about me?” He demanded.
“What about you?” You asked in curiosity.
“Am I pretty?” Within his tipsy state, he wasn’t even joking, making the situation that much funnier.
You chucked slightly, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, “The prettiest,” You promise.
“Nuh uh!” He protested once more.
“And why’s that?” Your eyebrows rose.
“Because you’re the prettiest,” He said in a ‘duh’ tone, “I’m the… second prettiest!”
You laughed again, squeezing his hand lovingly, “The second prettiest it is, then.”
This time, he let you turn off the lights, and by the time you turned back to the bed, his breathing had already evened out and his chest was falling up and down steadily.
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softhairedhotch · 4 months
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comfortember day sixteen: coffee/tea break aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader aaron takes a holiday from work and comes back with a beard, leading to something neither of you would have expected. word count: 1.6k warnings/content: minor injury (burns), mentions of being shot, kissing, one use of Y/N,, idk what else. comfortember masterlist here! also on ao3!
beards and burns
You sigh at the computer in front of you, feeling exhaustion beginning to weigh you down. Looking around the bullpen and seeing similar expressions across your co-worker's faces, you stand up and ask, “Does anyone want any coffee?” The chorus of yeses and pleases makes you laugh as you begin walking toward the kitchenette. “I’ll make a fresh pot.”
“Our saviour!” Emily calls after you.
Derek laughs as he gestures toward you. “The true hero of the BAU.”
You roll your eyes and begin making the coffee, scrolling through your phone as it heats up. As you laugh at a funny post from your friend, you hear a few collective gasps fill the room and glance up to see your team all talking in hushed voices. Raising your eyebrow, you wonder to yourself what they’re up to as you grab the finished coffee pot and your mug.
“Good to see you again, Y/N,” a voice from behind you says, startling you and making you jump. “Oh, sorry.”
Recognising the voice as Aaron, your boss, who’s been on holiday for almost two months (everyone was as surprised as you when he announced his break from work), you turn around to greet him with a smile. However, at the sight of him, the words die in your throat and all you get out is an embarrassing noise of shock. And if that’s not embarrassing enough, the coffee pot–both fresh and boiling to the touch–falls out of your grip and smashes to the ground.
Aaron is quick to run over to you, his face dropping into deep concern as you flinch back and hold your hand with a pained sound. It’s almost too much, his soft brown eyes looking over your face, one hand on your shoulder and the other hovering over your burnt hand, and the beard. 
God, he has a beard. 
An actual beard.   
One that frames his face so perfectly and makes him look ten times more attractive, something you were sure couldn’t be possible and it has your mind reeling. Your face feels as if it’s been engulfed in flames as you stare at him, his mouth moving to words you’re too unfocused to hear. 
He moves you over to the sink and runs the water on the coldest setting, testing the temperature on his hand before putting yours under the tap and shaking off his own. Embarrassment courses through you. 
“Sorry,” you mutter, taking a step away from him and looking at the shattered glass on the floor. “I don’t know what happened there.”
You can feel everyone in the office staring at you and you wish the floor would simply swallow you up. Derek cackles to himself, trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably, and you make a note to yourself to smack him over the head when you get a chance.
“Maybe you should go home and get some sleep instead of drinking more coffee, hm?” Aaron suggests. 
Despite the pain in your hand, slowly easing up under the cold water, you manage to laugh. “Jesus, Hotch, you take a month off and suddenly you’re an advocate for going home and getting some rest? What happened to you?”
He grins at your words, his dimple hidden by his perfectly trimmed beard but still managing to look as stunning as ever, and you melt at the sight. “It made me open my eyes a bit.” As he speaks, he reaches out for a neatly folded towel on the counter and throws it over the coffee on the floor, kneeling beside it. His eyes catch yours from where he’s on the floor, the light reflecting beautifully over them and making the black ring around his iris more noticeable. “I’ve clearly been missing out.”
“Hotch, you don’t have to clean that–”
“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He moves the towel over the floor briefly before standing up and looking at your hand in concern. “You know what? Your hand is more important than this floor.” He glances around the room before his eyes land on a still-grinning Derek and he squints his eyes with the smallest of smirks–it almost makes you collapse on the spot. “Morgan, clean this glass up, please.”
That wipes the smile off Derek’s face immediately and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “Seriously, Hotch? I didn’t even make the mess, man!”
“You can treat yourself to another pot of coffee afterwards,” Aaron replies, reaching out for your shoulder and gently guiding you toward his office. Once you’re inside and the door is closed, he takes your burnt hand in yours and sighs. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?”
“It’s just a small burn,” you shrug, “nothing I haven’t been through before.”
He hums. “True. I mean… you’ve been shot.”
“True,” you reply with a grimace, “that wasn’t very pleasant. Neither is this but I’m being very brave about it.”
Aaron laughs, the noise soft and sweet, and you’re sure you might melt. “Yes. Yes, you are. Now let’s make sure you’re okay, hm?” After looking over your hand for a few moments, Aaron hums again and smiles at you, eyes bright. “I think you’ll survive.”
And then he does something you would never have expected in a million years. Everything feels as if it’s in slow motion as he gently swipes the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips and pressing a soothing kiss over your skin. Your cheeks warm the moment his lips make contact and the cage in your stomach bursts open with all the butterflies fighting to get out.
“There,” he whispers, “kissed it all better.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, finding him endearingly cute as you stare at him with a fond look. “Thank you, that really helped.” As the two of you stare at each other for a few moments, you move your burnt hand closer to slide it over his jaw, feeling the soft bristles of his beard under your fingers. The sensation makes your heart hammer in your chest, and when Aaron smiles and nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, you’re sure you might have a heart attack right then and there. “Aaron…”
“Yeah?”
Running your thumb over his jaw, you smile at him. “I missed you.”
Aaron grins and his dimples move under your hand. “I missed you too.”
And then he’s moving closer, reaching out to cup your face in his own warm hands, angling your head so that his lips slot perfectly against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, and you find yourself sinking further against him as he smiles into the kiss. When it’s over and the two of you pull apart, slowly so as to not separate so soon, his eyes find yours and his smile widens.
“That was…” you start, trailing off as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek and close your eyes.
“Something we should have done a long time ago?” 
You let out a huff of laughter. “Definitely. But I’m glad we did it now.”
“Me too,” he mutters, pressing his lips against yours again. The short hairs of his beard rub against your face in a satisfying way. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with my beard though, would it?”
“Oh, it has everything to do with it,” you reply, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “You better be keeping this, Agent.”
“If you say so, Agent,” he chuckles. “Although I’m not sure Jack will like it.”
“Kids can’t always get what they want, tell him to suck it up.”
Aaron snorts at that. “Maybe you should be the one to tell him that; I don’t think he’d like to hear that from me. Maybe over dinner later this week?”
You raise an eyebrow. “You want me to have dinner with you and Jack already?”
His face falls ever so slightly. “I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? I just figured that you and Jack already know each other pretty well and–”
“Aaron,” you laugh, interrupting him. You smooth your fingers over his beard, admiring the way it frames his face perfectly for a few moments before meeting his eyes again. “It’s okay, I understand. I’d… I’d love that.”
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah,” you smile. “Does Friday work?”
“Friday, Friday,” he mutters, looking down at the ground in thought. “Hm, I don’t know…” He meets your gaze and laughs when you give him a look. “Yes, yes that’ll work. How about 7pm?”
“That’s perfect,” you reply, pressing your lips against his one more time. “I should get back to work now.”
“Right, yeah. See you later.”
You wave to him and make your way out of his office, immediately aware of all the eyes on you. Derek is both smirking and glowering at you, no doubt mad about the fact he had to clean up the mess, but there’s a coffee in his and everyone else’s hand so there’s no doubt he did it. When you glance back at the office, you realise that Aaron’s blinds were open the entire time and the team had a view of everything that just happened. 
Great.
Ignoring the small anxious pit in your stomach over that, you stroll over to casually pour yourself a new coffee before making your way to your desk. You sit down and turn on your screen, focusing on the task at hand, when Emily approaches you with a smirk.
“What?”
“So, you and Hotch, huh?” 
You laugh and gently push her away. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Nothing! Just didn’t realise you had such a thing for beards!”
“Shut it, Prentiss.”
“Or what?” She cackles.
You roll your eyes and laugh again, looking up at Aaron’s office once more to see him already looking back at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. It makes you feel light and you can’t wait until Friday rolls around. 
tags: @hotchs-big-hands @criminalskies
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noraszoo · 15 days
Text
keep my blankets warm and my name in your mouth
after a night of soaring through belobog's liquor, you finally face the consequences of it on the floor of your hotel room. thankfully, dan heng has experience with taking care of idiots (i.e. you)
dan heng x gn reader — drunkenness, sweet and sappy and sarcastic, dan heng is probably ooc, reader is trailblazer but this is set vaguely in canon & lore doesn't matter, stupid people who love each other but never say it, are they dating or are they toeing the line of cohabitation in the middle of a hotel room?
notes: oh gawsh hey guys... yeah yeah it's been forever since i posted but i giggled at all the requests i miss and then instead of doing those i wrote this, but TRUST i am getting back to all of you in a timely manner i love you all thank you so much for sticking with me, i'm coming out with a follower event once i hit 1k (soon) so be excited! love you guys and enjoy
—°+..。*゚。*゚+.*.。.—
Dan Heng is an awful caretaker, really, and you should’ve known this because of his deadpan and often awkward nature. It just never really occurred to you until he’s truly saddled with taking care of a living, breathing thing—i.e., you, drunk and vomiting into a trash can after a spree through Belobog’s bars. 
In your defense, having no memories means having no experiences to your name (other than everything you’ve been through on the Express so far, which is maybe more near-death experiences than you’d like to have), and you heard that being drunk was just something everybody experiences at least once. 
Then, Pela texted you that one time asking for quick tips to sober up, and it dawned on you that you don't even know what that feels like, and then—who cares, really, you don’t have half a mind to think of your tragic pre-drunk backstory when you’re trying not to die of embarrassment as Dan Heng maneuvers you in a way that won’t get vomit on your clothes. 
The cold tiles of the Goethe Hotel en suite bathroom aren’t enough to bring you to full awareness, so you let Dan Heng ragdoll you into kneeling over the trash can and pull any dangling accessories away from your, um, line of fire. 
“Why would you guys let me do this?!” you wail in disbelief, trying to hold back a mouthful of bile but ultimately failing as you cough into the bin again. You’re truly betrayed at the thought that your closest friends wouldn’t warn you of things like alcohol poisoning, and pacing yourself, and how many drinks is too many drinks. 
“I didn't let you do anything,” your friend retorts, because he’s evil and mean and awful at comforting you, “I told you it would be a bad idea. You’re the one that still went out.” 
“Did I puke in front of everyone?” 
Dan Heng pauses, which is always a bad sign. It means he’s thinking, really thinking about what to say. “At the very least, you puked in the snow and not inside the restaurant.” 
A desperate wailing noise escapes you yet again. Life is cruel, and Dan Heng is crueler. He should’ve told a sweet little white lie and you would’ve been none the wiser and a lot less mortified. “Himeko laughed so hard when we found you that Welt had to make her leave.” 
“Just kill me,” you whisper into the trash can, full of your hopes and dreams and the remnants of your dinner and drinks. “I can’t go back to the Express. Execute me and give me a gentle death.” 
“No need to be dramatic,” he says, annunciating his words in that odd little way he does, and it makes you want to kiss him and read a dictionary to you, cover to cover. “You need to drink water, and then brush your teeth. I don’t trust you showering right now so you have to wait until the morning.” 
“Oh, Dan Heng,” you keen, with the grief of a spouse watching their partner go off to war, “you don’t even want to wash my hair for me?! You just think I’m— I’m a drunken slob!” 
“Be quiet,” he commands through his teeth, embarrassment warming him up—you can feel it, the way the tips of his fingers go a little bit warm from where they rest on your shoulder and the side of your face. “You— I don’t think that. You need to brush your teeth.” 
You definitely are not brushing your teeth tonight. You tell Dan Heng as much but he just rolls his eyes and compromises with a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash that he pulls from the cabinet under the sink. He’s so prepared. Or maybe that’s just the hotel staff. Regardless. 
You rinse your mouth out once you’re fine enough to let Dan Heng pull you up to your feet and rest you against the counter of the sink. He has to remind you multiple times to not swallow the mouthwash, and you bat at him childishly for thinking you’d ever do such a thing—except, you definitely would have drinken down an entire mouthful if he didn't say anything. You can’t bear to look at your reflection in the mirror. You just pray to whatever Aeon is listening that there’s no awful stains on your clothes, and that you don’t smell so terrible that Dan Heng goes running the minute he lets go of your arm. 
“Where’s March?” you whine out as he leads you from the bathroom to the main hotel room, trying to gently set you down on your bed but giving up once you immediately fall into it like an ungraceful rock. “She would be so much nicer. You’re mean. Do I smell bad?” 
“I’m not mean,” he tells you, sure of himself and the twist of his mouth as he avoids looking you right in the eyes. “You don’t smell. You need to go to bed. And lay on your side.” Petulantly, and not without some kicks of your legs and flails of your arms, you find yourself situated under the sheets of the hotel bed, sock somehow off your feet now as Dan Heng pulls the blankets right up to your shoulders. 
“I’m on my side now. Do I get a reward?”
“Why would you need a reward?” 
A disgruntled tsk escapes you and you look up at Dan Heng with an exasperated expression. It’s pitiful enough to guilt him into kneeling down beside your bed so that he’s at eye level with you. “Because I went through so much tonight,” you slur out, words starting to mix with each other as a result of your remaining drunkenness and the exhaustion of the night hitting you. “I’ll take a, um— a gold star, or something.” 
“I can give you a cup of water in the morning.” 
Another dreadful wail escapes you. You’ve never faced evil more potent than Dan Heng, and by the stupid twinge of a smile on his face, he knows what he’s doing. You hate how endearing he is, and how he dangles little treasures like this in front of you. You’re brought back to the heat of his fingers from earlier, the gentle touches he left on your shoulders as he let you puke your guts out without even flinching. As much as you joke, you know Dan Heng’s kindness comes from a lack of evil. Comes from a supporting weight against your arms, comes from travel-size mouthwash, comes from staying in your hotel room until you fall asleep and double-checking that you’re on your side. 
In the morning, you’ll take the cup of water, and you’ll take him out for breakfast, too.
—°+..。*゚。*゚+.*.。.—
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lovelornanonymity · 5 months
Text
the fire in his eyes - r.c.
Tumblr media
At the Boneyard, Kooks didn't have rich parents watching over their every move, and pogues got to party without the police shutting them down. They didn't have parents to bribe the law enforcement like the rich kids did, after all. It was a win-win situation. You and Sarah kept it a tight-lipped secret, but parties at the Boneyard had always been their favorites. As you climbed out of Sarah's black Volvo, you two shared a conspiratorial look, matching grins on your faces. Rafe put his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him and leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. You heard a whistle from the crowd, and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You could feel the eyes of other partygoers on them as you all walked in, clinging to your every move. Topper grabbed a cooler of beers he’d brought with you guys, and cheers echoed from your onlookers.
"Rafe, mind if I borrow your girl?" Sarah's voice was syrupy-sweet, and Rafe shot her a glare, but relinquished his hold on you. 
Without giving you a moment's notice, Sarah grabbed your hand eagerly, snatching you away.
When you next glanced at your boyfriend, he'd busied himself with Topper and the beers. Predictable.
"Look at this, Y/N.” Sarah said, out of breath as you two stopped running. 
Above you towered a red buoy, the kind designed to ward off the big trawlers and cargo ships when they came a little too close to shore.
“You can see it all from up here.”
You heard footsteps, and glanced over her shoulder, seeing Topper advancing towards you two.
"Your bitch is here.” You teased, and Sarah glanced over her shoulder.
"Shut up."
"Sarah! Be careful!" Topper hurried over, worry plain in his voice, and you rolled your eyes.
"I'Il leave you to it.” You called out, and Sarah smiled down at you, waving her goodbye.
You crossed your arms around yourself, looking at the scene around you. There were people
everywhere, Pogues and Kooks in distinct groups,
miniature versions of the Cut and Figure Eight.
"Looking hot as always, princess.” A voice whistles from the side. 
You turn your head, seeing JJ trailing his eyes up and down your figure. You roll your eyes, flipping him off with a fake sweet smile, then walking away.
You made your way to your friends - Rafe’s arms calling your name. You belonged in them like the wind in a hurricane, one just simply couldn’t be without the other. 
The journey across the beach and into the arms of the boy you loved was long and grueling, your feet felt like lead as they drug against the cool of the sand. The promise of Rafe’s touch was enough to make you keep going as your eyes raked over his form at a distance. 
He was laughing with his friends, a yellow shirt gripping his biceps and pink board shorts wrapped around his thighs. His feet were exposed against the sand and a baseball cap sat backwards in his head. You came up from behind him, wrapping your small arms around his middle, trailing your fingers up around his pectoral muscles. 
“Can I buy you a drink, handsome?” You whispered into his shoulder, not tall enough to reach his ear. You felt his muscles relax against your touch. 
“I’m pretty sure the booze is free, we’re at a kegger. Plus, I don’t think my girl would like that very much.” He replied with a smile, turning around to bring you into his chest. “Hey, pretty girl. Missed you.”
Suddenly, Rafe's grip on your waist tightens a bit and a scoff slips from his mouth. It's not long before you notice what forced the change in his
demeanor. Two Pogues, JJ and you couldn't quite remember the other boy’s name, but you recognized him as a friend of Kiara’s. 
"Just walk, don't look at them.” You hear the unknown boy whisper to JJ and it almost brings a smile to your face.
"How do you walk past Kooks and not look at them in all their fucking glory?” The sarcasm seeped from JJ’s lips, purposely making his voice loud enough for you all to hear.
"Hey, princess. When you get bored of this polo wearing asshole..." his words directed toward you as his holds his hand up to his ear with the phone gesture, "call me," he mouths. 
His friend immediately pulled JJ further in the opposite direction before Rafe could so much as
even think to put his hands on him.
"Don't.” You place your hand on Rafe's chest, as he noticeably gets angry. He just glances down at you in confusion. "His time will come.” You reassure your boyfriend, your smile almost as menacing as the one now on Rafe's face. 
He simply nodded along to your words, letting his grip on your waist finally lighten up a bit.
You and Sarah were growing bored as your boys were talking about perfecting their swings for what felt like hours upon hours and you two were looking for any excuse to retreat back to the keg. 
“Sarah and I are going to get another drink. You guys want anything?" You ask, backing away toward the keg already. 
“Nah, I’m good.” Kelce replies, Topper and Rafe agreeing all too intrigued with their conversation about that God forsaken sport. 
You just shake your head and the two of you start walking towards the keg. Your walk was pretty peaceful, but of course that couldn't last for long. You watched as JJ walked in your direction.
"Y/N L/N." Your full name rolled off his tongue,
albeit a little slurred.
"Hi?" Your voice was questioning, and you could only hope you got across your utter confusion as to what he was doing standing in front of you. 
He raised his eyebrows at you, and held out his cup to you silently. Your eyes darted downwards and back up to him again, looking at the murky liquid dubiously. As far as you were concerned, he could've been poisoning you.
"No, thanks."
"Don't you trust me?"
You let the words hang. You knew he knew the answer to that question. JJ waved the cup in front of your face once again, jolting you back to the present.
"Lighten up, princess.” 
You chuckled lowly, though the laugh had no real humour behind it. “Fuck off, Pogue.” 
You met his eyes again, and the corner of his lip quirked up ever so slightly. He looked almost a little stunned. 
"Where'd you learn to swear, princess? The country club?"
"Where'd you learn to swear? Jail?" You bit back, and JJ grinned.
"Juvie, dumbass.” He replied, eyebrows raised. "C'mon. One sip."
“I believe the lady said no, Maybank.” You heard your boyfriend’s merciless voice cut off the intense tension that you and JJ were now sharing. 
"Rafe! Buddy! How are you?"
The taste of beer in the back of your throat turned rancid. This was not going to end well. The muscles in Rafe’s jaw were tensed, sharp lines against the contours of his skin.
"What, is it not fancy enough for you?" JJ kept being persistent. 
"No. We were just leaving."
"Hey, you know what? I'll take it." Topper interrupts JJ, and you start to fear what might happen. 
"Thank you, man. I appreciate it."
"That's nice, but I didn't ask you. If you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn't."
"Oh, pretty please."
"Yeah. Sarah? How about you?” JJ tried to give her the cup.
"Pretty please?"
"You can have it." JJ insists on giving Sarah the cup.
"She doesn't want it, you-" Topper just spills the drink into JJ's face. 
JJ hits Topper, while John B and Sarah attempt to separate them.
"Dirty Pogues!" Topper screams and John B loses it and hits him.
"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?" 
People around you scream "Fight! Fight! Fight!" like this is some kind of joke.
The guys continue, and it seems like there are only three sane people in the middle of this, trying to stop it: you, Sarah and Kiara.
Things are getting pretty violent. Topper is holding John B's head, and he's slowly drowning him. Everyone around us is either inciting it or screaming, trying to end it. That's too much for you to watch, so you hide inside Rafe's arms and he pulls you closer.
Out of nowhere, someone screams, "He's got a gun" and you turn to see JJ with a gun pointed at Top's head.
"JJ, stop! Put the gun down!" Sarah screams desperately.
"Did you say something, princess?" He holds his position.
"JJ, what the fuck? Do you know what you are doing? Calm down, please."
"Oh, does princess number two want to join the ‘save the asshole’ party?" 
Your breath hitched in your throat as the cool metal met your temple – you had never been a fan of guns – but you wished that you knew how to use one or atleast how to defend yourself against someone with one as JJ Maybank bore the side of the pistol in his hand into your skull like his life depended on it. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you noted the panic that ran through them, though you knew no one else would and you thanked God for that, because if they had you were sure you would die on this beach, leaving Rafe to cradle what was left of your lifeless body. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion and you could barely hear Rafe’s words or the words of the pogues as they stood by, begging JJ to put the gun down. 
"You better get the gun away from her or I swear to God, your friends will be burying you tonight.” Rafe breathes, almost too calmly. “You know who has more power between us. I can make your life a living hell more than it is now.” 
Everyone knows that's true, even JJ himself. Yet, he didn’t seem to care about that at the moment, all he cared about was getting even with Rafe Cameron, the kook king himself and that’s what he thought he was doing when he pulled the trigger sending a harsh air into the side of your temple. You dropped to the sand and Rafe’s heart stopped for a split second as he raced over to your form. He gripped your cheeks, looking over your face, begging you to say anything as he searched for any source of blood, any place that a bullet would have entered your body. 
“Baby – Baby – talk to me, please!” 
You were dazed, your mind reeling. You wondered if you had been shot, if this was it for you, if you were dying – is this what dying felt like? You couldn’t make your mouth form words and your ears rang. Rafe shook you once again, forcing you to look into his eyes.
“Sweet girl, what hurts? Are you hurt?!” 
You could only shake your head no as he looked over you and once he received confirmation that you were okay, he ordered Kelce to watch over you as he made his way over to where JJ stood. JJ looked in Rafe’s direction, knowing he had fucked up, knowing he was about to take the beating of his life. Rafe stalked towards him, anger pulsating through every vein in his body in a way that it never had. Pogues had always pissed him off or been a nuisance to him, but this – this was life or death – this was you and he couldn’t stand by and let these fuckers think they could get away with that. JJ shrunk into himself, thinking about making a break for it and Topper must’ve noticed, because he got to him before Rafe did, jerking him up by the collar of his shirt and snickering. 
“Listen, bud, accept your fate now – Rafe’s gonna kill you.” 
He chuckled and JJ’s fear made itself known as he tried to squirm out of Topper’s grasp. And just as he did, ready to make a break for it and leave his friends to fend for themselves, Rafe stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. 
“And, uh – just where do you think you’re going?” 
He growled. 
“Listen man –” 
JJ was cut off by Rafe’s forehead connecting with his nose, knocking him back abruptly. 
“No, see –, listening after you pull a gun on my girl? That doesn’t work for me.” 
His voice was sinister, yet cool and calm and ready – ready to kill his first pogue. Rafe shoved JJ back even further, his head connecting with the sand. Rafe’s only thought in that moment elicited a snicker from him as he thought about his tiny pogue brain shaking around in his head at the impact. He thought about it again as he ripped the gun from JJ’s grasp and knocked it against his nose, the crunch of his bones could be heard across the beach and Rafe let out a laugh. 
“If you think that hurts, you’re not gonna survive what comes next.” 
Topper snickered, bringing a beer to Rafe’s attention, handing it to him. Rafe’s demented and angry state gave him an idea and before he could even think he spit into the long-neck beer bottle, swishing the remaining liquid around and passing it back to Topper who spit in it as well and handed it back to Rafe. 
“Maybank, you uh–, you thirsty? I got something for you.” 
Rafe laughed menacingly, turning back to the crowd that had gathered around them on the beach before kneeling over JJ while Topper held down his shoulders against the sand and Rafe poured the tainted liquid down his throat. JJ kicked and attempted to scream, but his yells were muffled against the cool liquid as he fought against it. 
“Don’t fight it, princess.” 
Topper snickered, his grip on JJ’s shoulder’s tightening to prevent him from squirming away from Rafe. 
“Stop! You’re gonna kill him!” 
John B yelled, emerging from the crowd. 
“Trust me, JB, I’m not even close to killing him yet and when I am it’ll be justified. He almost took my world away from me, killing him wouldn’t be enough.” 
Rafe spoke through gritted teeth and threw the beer bottle to the side, stradling JJ and beginning to hit him over and over. 
-
You sat on the sand, Kelce’s strong arm wrapped around your waist as you tucked your knees further into your chest and laid your head on top of them. Rafe came barreling toward you, stopping as he took in the tears that were running down your cheeks. Your eyes were closed and you chanted to yourself “Rafe’s coming soon” over and over in a hushed whisper. His heart broke and the sight and he was filled with regret for leaving you with Kelce of all people while you were in this state. He knelt in front of your face, tucking the hair behind your ears and it was like almost immediately, you knew the touch was his. Your eyes flew open, and at the sight of him you cried even harder – a mix of fear and anger washed over you; anger at JJ, fear of Rafe being shot the way you almost had been. You jumped into his arms, almost knocking him over, but he steadied as he wrapped his arms around you and situated you on his lap. You buried your head in his chest and he wrapped one arm under your knees and the other around the back of your hair, pooling it in his hands. You tucked your face as deep into his chest as you could and he placed a kiss on your temple. 
“Hey, sweet girl. Talk to me, baby.” 
“Scared – wanna g-go home.” 
“Okay, mama. We’re going.” 
He whispered against your hairline, pushing himself off the ground by his legs and shifting you in his broad arms before carrying you bridal-style to his truck. 
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cosmal · 1 year
Text
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧
summary — you and remus lupin have become really good at stealing each other away from parties.
or but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay but just for the night....she might want a kiss before the end of this song.
warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, modern!au, friends to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, oblivious!remus, drunk!reader, drunk!remus, alcohol consumption
note — this is inspired by lovers rock by tv girl!!! i think this is the longest thing i've ever written. I do very much like it as of right now. that'll probably change in a week.
word count — 12.4k
“Thank Godric, you’re here,” Mary groans from her position on the front porch, Marlene leaning into her side. Both are clearly enjoying a cigarette away from the din of the party. You can tell what type of night it’s going to be already. Not that you’ve arrived two hours late anyway.
“I’ve never seen you so happy to see me, Mary,” you giggle, crossing the threshold of Sirius’s front lawn, careful not to trip on his collection of stolen garden gnomes.
“I’m always happy to see you, lovely.” She extends her hand, the cigarette between her lovely red nails on offer. 
“You know who’s going to be even happier?” Marlene coughs, as you take the smoke thankfully, taking a few calming puffs. 
You pretend like you have any idea who she’s referring to, “Jamie? Haven’t seen him in a while. Miss that boy,” you laugh, voice strained through the thick smoke you exhale. 
“No, you idiot.” Mary pipes up and you hand the smoke back, “Remus. He hasn’t shut up about you all night.”
“That’s if he’s sober enough to even notice you’re here,” Marlene laughs and so does Mary. You smile, small enough to not show how happy you actually are that you get to see him. It’s been too long. 
“He’s drinking?” 
“Absolutely hammered. We were hoping you’d get here earlier so he wouldn’t drink too much. Please go look after him.” Mary throws her arm around Marlene and she snuggles in closer. They both look content enough to fall asleep right there in the cool summer breeze. 
“I’m sure he’s doing okay.” 
“I’m sure he will be when you get inside.” 
You move to toe your shoes off at the front mat, kicking them away so they’re not a tripping hazard. 
“When has Sirius ever done that at your house, Y/N?” Mary laughs, looking down at your socked feet
“Oh, no. This is for me. Don’t want to get my shoes dirty.” You laugh when you grab the handle of the flyscreen, swinging the door open. 
The girls’ laughter becomes a distant murmur when you enter the kitchen, met with mostly everyone sitting around the dining table. A deal of cards in everyone’s hands, and piles of coins and sweets sat in the middle. 
James and Lily laughing and glowing under the downcast of the orange lighting, appearing to seemingly be winning. Sirius and Frank having their own side bets, throwing coins around before both calling tails. Then, there's Remus. You try to ignore the hitch in your breath when your eyes land on the sandy-haired boy.
He really does look drunk, eyes droopy but still bright when he hiccups a laugh at something James says. A quiet, airy chuckle that has his mouth creasing and eyelashes kissing his cheeks. A smile so pretty, you have to fight your own.
His head is propped up on the table by an elbow that looks like it’s about to slip off the edge, so you sneak up behind him and place your hand against his arm to stop him from falling face-first into the wood.
He looks up at you, a little startled for a second, and you can see the moment it clicks in his head when he realises who he’s looking at. He smiles, all surprised but content and you melt. The last time you had seen him was only for the third time ever at another one of Sirius’s parties. You hate to admit that the only thing you look forward to now is when you receive an invite from your workmate and you have another excuse to see his lanky best friend.
“Y/N! When did you get here?” Sirius chants, flicking his last remaining coin at Frank. He shoots him a well-deserved glare.
“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.
Sirius looks down at your socked feet and frowns, “You took your shoes off again. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to do that.”
You roll your eyes, “You’re gross, Sirius.”
Remus looks down too, the top of his head pressing into your side, a crush of his curls tickling the bare skin of your arm and you almost shiver. “Cool socks.” Is the first thing he says to you. You giggle.
They’re a dark cornflower shade, moons scattered across the material at random. They crease when you wriggle your toes, “Thanks. Got them from mum for my birthday.”
“She has good taste.” He moves off of you, slouching down in his chair until his knees are pressing Lily’s legs. 
His head lolls backwards, neck bared under the warm light. You think you feel dizzier than he does. Even when he squeezes his eyes shut. 
“What have you done to him?” you laugh, hand flat against his forehead to brush away his loose hair. He keens, sighing deeply under a hiccup. 
“He’s very awful at poker,” James laughs, flicking a pastille across the table. You look at his high pile, and then Sirius and Franks’ which are almost of equal height. Then you look in front of Remus, the table almost bare. You laugh. 
“We like to play a little differently,” Franks states over the rim of his bottle. 
“Basically, you take a shot every time you lose,” James says, sober as ever. You think maybe he hasn’t lost yet. 
“And Remus has lost every hand,” Sirius adds to the chime of details. 
“Have not!” Remus finally pipes up, finger pointed at James instead of Sirius, too distracted staring at the ceiling. “Frank lost the first.” 
“Anyways, Moons. You just lost and I think you owe us another.” 
Remus groans, but sits up to reach for the bottle of Sambuca sitting in the middle of the table. You gently swat his hand and push him back into his chair. 
“I think you’ve had enough,” you say, turning to place the bottle on the kitchen bench, along with the empty bottles. 
“C’mon, one more,” Remus giggles, making hands for the bottle in the air. A child, you think. 
“Yeah, Y/N! One more!” Sirius agrees, smiling boyishly. 
“You’ll make yourself sick,” you chide with a small frown. Remus slumps against you, much defeated. He might fall asleep on you if you stand there any longer. You poke his cheek where it’s pressed into your clothes. 
“He already is sick.” Sirius is smug when he speaks and you fret about what else he’s about to say, “Sick in love.” 
You laugh. Could’ve been worse. But it still has your heart skipping in your chest. You really do hope Remus shares the feelings you hold for him. But then again, Remus is drunk and Sirius, is well, he’s Sirius. Despite the name, he hardly ever is. 
“Boo. Awful.” You frown in faux offence, ignoring him when he winks at you. Sickening, really. 
You lean down so your mouth is in line with Remus’s ear, “You wanna go lay down?” You realise you’re in quite a predicament. Coming over to parties to see Sirius’s best friend. Looking after him when he’s drunk. You’d hoped he would do the same. 
“Please, no sex in my house,” Sirius states, standing to grab another drink. James guffaws. 
You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”
“So, you do want to have sex with him?” he adds. 
You almost choke on your tongue, “No, it’s just. He- Stop it.” You have to stop yourself from saying something wrong. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to. But you wanted much more than that. 
“Leave her alone,” Remus chides, leaning back off your stomach. “You’ll scare her off and I’ll never see her again,” 
He was right, his friends did intimidate you. But you’d hoped it would take more than not yet warming up to them to get you to never see Remus again. 
Remus stands and you’re surprised he doesn’t stumble when he takes your hand to lead you away from the table and out into the lounge room. You poke your tongue out over your shoulder when you hear James make some sort of crude comment to Frank. Lily smiles warmly at you as an apology. 
He sits down with all the gracefulness of a baby elephant and you have to bite back a laugh. He looks up at you, pretty eyes all droopy and a lopsided smile, and you feel like you’ll never come back from these feelings ever. 
Before you can overly admire him for too long, he’s patting the space next to him with a floppy hand. “C’mon.” 
You oblige probably too willingly, flopping yourself down next to him with a small oomph, your thigh pressing into his. He shuffles down the lounge to rest his head atop your shoulder, neck craned a little to reach it. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. His face is warm and it presses into your collarbone that’s peeking from out the top of your shirt. His light stubble tickles your skin and it’s weirdly soothing. God, you know you’re in deep. 
“You smell good.” 
You breathe in subconsciously, “You do, too.” 
Under the strong scent of stale beer and sambuca, you can think you can discern a hint of his cologne. Woody and something like cinnamon. Mixed in with the light scent of his laundry detergent, like fresh linen and lavender. He's dizzying. 
“I smell like beer,” he groans, hand finding its way between both of your thighs, your skirt tangled in his fingers. 
“You smell nice,” you laugh. 
You watch the doorway where James gets up to turn the dial on the vinyl player. The current song now loud enough to be heard where you’re sitting.
Humming along, you say, “I love this song.”
Remus gawps, “Me too. S’my favourite, actually.”
Remus having the exact same favourite song as you makes your head spin. “No way.”
“Yes way.” he smiles. If he were soberer, you’d gush to him over this. It’d have to wait.
He shifts his head from your shoulder and startles for a moment, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink.” You get whiplash from the change of subject. 
You sigh, very amused at his intent to be nice to you, despite being half-cut, “I’m okay. I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.” 
He frowns, wrinkles his nose and you want to kiss it. God. “Why did you come, then?” The fact he thinks you came to get drunk and not just to see him makes you want to laugh. 
The smile you’re still trying to fight every time he speaks makes your cheeks ache, “To see Sirius.” 
He frowns even more and you think he wants to shift away from you. He roughly scratches at his face and you almost regret messing with him. 
“Sirius?” He hiccups. 
“I’m kidding.” You poke his bicep, “I came to see you.” 
There’s a silence and then Remus is breaking out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen. You’d have the decency in you to blame it on being drunk. Nothing else. 
“Me?” He hiccups, again. You place your hand atop his thigh and trace the thick seam of his pants. 
“Yes, you.”
His smile dials back but doesn’t fade and his face relaxes. He leans down to place his head back against your shoulder, cheek all smooshed.  
“Oh.” 
“Oh?” 
“Thank you.” he hums, hooking his elbow behind yours, completely squished against you. He thinks you must be cold in a skirt and a small T-shirt. “I like it when you’re here. You make it bearable.” 
You want to accept his compliment, but when he hiccups for the third time, you remember he’s drunk. “That’s a bit mean, Remus. Will I tell your friends you can’t bear them?” 
Remus stiffens and you stop rubbing his leg. Drunk Remus is very gullible. Sweet, but gullible all the same. 
“Stop it. You know what I mean.” He pushes further into your shoulder and you feel yourself dip down against him, head almost falling against his. You wouldn’t mind if it did, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable, you assume. 
“I don’t think I do,” you tease and Remus pinches your side, which results in a stifled yelp. 
“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.
“I would never.”
When you shiver in your spot, Remus wonders what your answer would be if he offered you his jacket. He thinks he should test his theory. 
“Are you cold?” he asks but doesn’t move his head from your shoulder.
“A little,” you yawn. Which then causes Remus to yawn. You laugh animatedly. 
“Do you,” Remus blinks slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he attempts to keep his eyes open. “do you want my jacket?” 
You’re glad Remus’ head is still propped on your shoulder lest he sees the blush creeping across your cheeks. Drunk Remus is gullible. But drunk Remus is still just as kind as he is when he’s sober. 
“Then you’ll be cold,” you reply, giving his thigh a squeeze. You crane your neck to look at him. He looks tired. 
“Better me than you.” He moves to take it off and before he can even get one arm out, you sit forward and place your hands on his chest. Fingers twisted in his cotton shirt, your turned knee pressing into his. 
“Remus, I’m okay.” You give him your most reassuring smile. Being cold is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t want to be an annoyance. 
“You sure?” 
“Positive.” 
Remus sits back, albeit begrudgingly, hands wrapped around the zipper of his jacket. The further he pushes back into the lounge, the more he looks like he’s about to fall asleep. 
“Remus?” you murmur. Voice quiet under the din of the party. Sirius is a loud drunk, his laughter roaring at something stupid James is doing. 
His head begins to dip into the edge of the cushion, headed for the arm of the chair. If he kept this up, he’d have a crick in his neck in no time. 
He hums and you pat his cheek to encourage him to sit up. It’s bemusing how quickly he can drift off. You’re very envious. Maybe it’s just the alcohol. 
“What’s up?” he murmurs in return, peeking from one eye, the other scrunched up. He’s adorable and you’re in too deep. 
“You seem tired.” You poke his face this time and he beams, all warm and dozey under the mellow light of Sirius’s living room. A line of curls falling into his eyes and the apples of his cheeks a tinge of peach. 
He hums again, much thicker than last. “M’not.” 
You hold out your hand, all five fingers spread. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 
He struggles, but pulls his hand from his lap and holds it up to yours, tangling your fingers. Palm flush against yours and much warmer in comparison. “Feels like five.” He pulls your entwined hands back down and you laugh. 
You try not to shy from his actions, pretending like it doesn’t make your heart skip, and then almost stop completely when his thumb rubs circles into the top of your hand. You can feel the warmth seeping from his into your own and your fingertips tingle. 
“Do you want to go home?” You twist so you’re completely on the edge of the lounge, hand still wrapped in his. You stop, “Or are you staying here tonight?” 
He brings his arm up - with yours still tangled - and rubs his face with the back of his hand. Dragging you up and down. You giggle at his tired actions before pouting. 
“I think.'' You can tell he’s trying to stay alert enough to hold a conversation with you.
When he wakes up in the morning he won’t remember being so tired here and will think you both had the best conversation. You’ll be okay with this. “I think Sirius was supposed to take me home, but he’s too drunk now.” 
“You’ll sleep on the couch?” You frown and he blinks. 
“I think I might have to.” He throws his head back and sighs. Strained and raspy. 
You look at the size of Sirius’s two-seater and then Remus’s stupidly long legs. It wouldn’t work, and he’d end up with either a sore back or a worse-off neck than whatever it was he was doing right now. You don’t even really think before you say, “I can walk you home.” 
Remus looks a little more alert, “You can’t sleep on this.” You prod the squeaky leather and it bounces back with absolutely no recoil. You’ll be sure to scold Sirius next time for having a horrendous couch, though enough money to buy everyone in the room ten of them. You know he won’t appreciate the exaggeration. But it’s for the sake of his friends’ backs. 
“You don’t have to do that.” He sits up properly now and tries to situate himself to look convincingly comfortable. “I’ll make do.” 
“It’s no big deal.” You shrug. “I’m walking home anyways.”
Now he’s sitting forward, his knees pushing into your leg and you almost stumble off the seat, grabbing his arm for purchase. “You just got here.” He almost frets and then coughs to hide his worry. He’s not very good at achieving a smooth, cool demeanour when half-cut. Not that he ever achieves it sober, he thinks. 
“No, but I think you need to go home and sleep.” You look out into the kitchen that’s now surprisingly quieter. Lily looks like she’s about to fall asleep, leaning on James’s shoulder, who’s trying to play a horrible game of go fish with Sirius and Frank. Absolute party animals.
“I live too far away, anyways,” he says, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. “You’ll have to walk me home and then walk back, you’ll be walking for at least an hour and a half.” Why Remus is so afraid to suggest you can stay the night at his, he doesn’t know.
You squeeze his shoulder as he struggles to loop his lace through his fingers. He decides to go for the simpler, bunny-ear option. “That’s okay. You can stay at mine. I only live ten minutes away.”
When Remus sits back up after tying his laces too tight, his face is pink.
-
Remus Lupin has never been one for sitting comfortably, ever. With long, lanky limbs, he always has his legs sprawled out and his arms thrown over something. Anything he can take up comfortably, with enough space to spread, he’ll sit willingly. 
On one hand, he’s thankful you convinced him not to sleep on Sirius’s couch. He didn’t need a repeat of New Year’s. Though, on the other hand, he could’ve made do. 
Nothing was like sitting in your bedroom. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable, though deep down he was a little, a pit of anxiety creeping up his chest. He felt like he had little room to move - despite you owning a double bed - because he didn’t want to look stupid. He could take up space and not notice it.  
Remus has trouble not taking in every detail he can in your room. Like your little trinket dishes filled with miscellaneous items, signet rings and seashells. The stuffed rhino toy in the middle of your pillows that you had told him - shyly at that - was named Clarence. Not before giggling at the poster of Twilight that you swore had been there since you were young. Your current read splayed open on the end of your bed, along with the stack of records in a blue milk crate in the corner, were things he promised himself he would ask you about when he wasn’t half tipsy and could hold a proper conversation. 
In his admiration, one that was making his anxiety spread into warmth that seemed to be seeping from his bones. He’s too busy pretending like he isn’t taking in every small detail one shouldn’t when they’ve only known someone for only a month, and doesn’t notice that you’ve changed. 
He looks over at you, in a pair of shorts littered with tiny daisies and a shirt that almost eats said shorts. Your hair pulled back and your face still sort of wet from where you obviously washed off the day's grime, causing the hairs around your face to curl. He doesn’t know if it’s the fading alcohol that’s causing him to hiccup even more, or if it’s seeing you all fresh and content from being at home that has his breath catching. 
Remus Lupin is still a little drunk but he is also quite clearly growing to like you even more. That doesn’t change. He thinks he's done everything backwards. Meeting you, then seeing you now but too inebriated to say something redeeming, and then seeing you in the comfort of your own home before he even gets to ask you on a date. He also thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way. 
“Remus?” Your voice is as calm as you look when you speak and he melts. 
“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head. 
“You okay?” Warm light washes over you and paints you amber as you patter across the room, the moon socks that are still on your feet pressing into the white fabric of your rug. “You’re not feeling sick?” He thinks he should blame his daze on a fake sickness, but he doesn’t want you to worry even more, so he decides against it. 
When you press the back of your hand to his cheek, that’s only warm because he’s a little overwhelmed, not because he’s feeling poorly, he can’t find it in himself to hold your gaze. “I’m okay.” 
“I was saying I don’t think I have any clothes for you to change into.” You remind him after it felt like you were talking to a brick wall a minute earlier. 
Remus pushes his hands into the rough material of his black jeans. He doesn’t see himself sleeping in anything else. “That’s okay.” 
“You’re not going to sleep in those are you?” 
What else would he sleep in if you have no other clothes? “Uh.” 
“You wear boxers?” you grin. 
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He wishes he was still a little drunker so he could blame his bumbling words on the effects of downing half a bottle of sambuca. Now he’s realising that’s just how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by you. 
“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.” 
Your confidence, and your confidence only, is how he ends up pantless and under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You have a lovely way of making him feel at ease. He thinks that’s why he likes you so much. 
You smell different than earlier in the night when your shirt tickles his arm. Like fresh face wash and night creams, and maybe even roses. He’d hate to think of what he smelt like in comparison to you. Probably still like beer, and maybe like sweat. He should’ve asked if he could’ve showered. That might’ve been too much, he’s definitely overthinking. 
“You’re very quiet,” you say into the dimness of your room. He’s lucky your bedside lamp is so muted, lest you see the goosebumps raised over his skin and how his cheeks haven’t returned to their normal colour since he crossed the threshold of your room. 
“M’thinking,” he returns, just as quiet. It feels wrong to disturb the calmness blanketing the room. 
“I can tell.” He can hear you grin, “What about?” 
He swallows and he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it, “You.” 
You huff a small laugh and push down into the pillow behind you, “Me?” Your voice is a little strained, and not louder than before. Maybe even quieter. 
“Yeah. Thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you.” 
“You haven’t even left yet and you’re thinking ahead to the next time we’ll see each other,” you tease, getting comfortable underneath your plush quilt and sheets. Probably too much for a summer night but there’s still a chill in the air, flowing through your open window. 
“I’m just hoping I won’t be so drunk,” he admits, hating how he still actually does sound drunk. 
“Hopefully,” you smile, “But that’s okay, we can blame it on James.” 
“If only I wasn’t so shit at poker,” he laughs in a strained and animated voice, trying to hold back a yawn. 
He finally gets comfortable, hands fisting the sheets around his body and head balancing restfully against the plush of your ivory pillows. 
You can see his eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake. You think it’s endearing but you also think he needs to sleep. “Remus,” you say, firm but caring at once. 
“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched. 
“You should sleep.” You push itchy locks away from his forehead and he sighs at the caring touch of your fingers. 
“Don’t wanna.” He scrunches his nose, “I think I’m finally sobering up. Wanna talk t’you.” 
You smile at his absolute urgency and think he’s adorable. Truly. “Please, sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” 
“You’ll be here?” This, you actually laugh at. 
“Of course, Remus. You’re in my room.” 
He closes his eyes, eyelashes kissing the freckles of his cheeks and his tired, darkened skin, “M’kay.”
When you wake up in the morning, almost midday, Remus plagued by the effects of alcohol, you too content to wake whilst being next to him, you both have separate texts from Sirius. 
Your own chat log reads, aren’t U glad you came out? You don’t reply, not wanting to encourage him in any way. 
Remus’s phone, on the other hand, reads, 
uncle pads has a ring to it don’t you think? xxxx
He does in fact reply, too used to Sirius being a twat. 
Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you. 
what do U mean nothing happened? 
I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home. 
U both stumbled. in her sheets. 
Fuck off. Idiot. 
Neither of you mention any of Sirius’s messages to each other the entire morning. Too busy enjoying each other's company. 
-
The week spent after Remus had drunkenly stayed the night, you could pleasantly, though maybe even with a smidge of embarrassment, admit that he was all you thought about since. 
It was a new feeling. You’d never felt it before. The endearment, but also the nerves, of realising you actually like someone. Some days it made your cheeks ache from smiling, and filled your chest with warmth. On other days, the warmth cracked your chest open, an aching chasm pleading to be filled and a head clouded with apprehension.
You were eager and scared all at once. But you were happy either way because Remus made you feel things. Good things. 
You had spent the morning, forcing him to eat something, telling him it would make his hangover feel much better. He’d argued for no longer than two minutes before agreeing. Saying, who am I to argue with a girl like you?
“Like me?” you’d replied, mouth full of half-eaten pancake, pushing his own plate across the marble of your kitchen bar. 
“Smart,” he smiled, picking at a blueberry, “Pretty.” 
And after it was your turn to babble like a fool, he’d eased you open. Asked you about the record collection in your room (he was proud of himself for remembering). You’d rambled off your favourite artists, a lot similar, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t give you his number before he left. 
And he did. Wrote his number on your hand as you stood at your doorway and he thanked you for breakfast. And for walking him home, drunk. You kissed his cheek and watched him press his fingers into his skin until he rounded the corner. 
You wrote the number down on a piece of paper, magnetising it to your fridge as soon as you shut the door. Though your hands were sweaty - obviously because you were around Remus - and the last number had smudged. Was it a 3? Or an 8? Or a weird looking 5? You couldn’t tell and told yourself that was a problem you could deal with later.
It was later. A whole week later and you still hadn’t called him. If it was due to your nerves or the fact you had a missing number, that was your business only. You left the last space blank, the empty spot a blinding reminder of your stupidity. You’d just have to try every number until you found Remus. It would take no more than ten attempts.
Numbers zero through four were all wrong numbers. You were only met with a piercing tone before the line went dead. When you got to five, you were met with, what sounded like, a grumpy old lady. You tried to hang up straight away, well aware it wasn’t him, but she screeched and persisted that if she had a prank call one more time, she would phone the police!
Turns out, it was a 6 after all. The lovely tone of Remus’s voice rings down the line and you sigh in relief.
“It’s you.” Your voice is airy and Remus isn't sure he knows who it is. 
There are only a handful of people who have his number. His friends, most of them called and checked in regularly, except Mary, who's always one to stop by instead. His parents and his neighbour had it too. But he seriously doubted the latter, unless his flat had been ransacked. 
And then he remembers he'd given it to you and he laughs. All these thoughts happen within the span of two seconds. He hopes it's you, he's been anticipating a call all week. He was beginning to maybe think you didn’t actually want to hear from him. That he'd embarrassed himself in his drunken stupor. But then he remembered how nice you were to him.
You’ll make yourself sick.
“It is?” he laughs, still hoping it is in fact you. The image of his flat turned upside down, the spot on his mantle where his small TV is, now empty, flashes across his mind.
“Remus. It’s me!” you chirp and he pushes his phone closer to his ear as if it’ll make him hear your pretty voice even clearer.
”Me? I don’t think I know any me’s” he teases, fighting back an eager smile. Teasing you could be fun. Could become a constant. He’s imagining the warmth of your cheeks, and hopefully a small smile.
“Y/N,” you correct and he can almost hear the roll of your eyes. 
“Oh. I know an Y/N,” he smiles, leaning against the lip of his kitchen bench. “She’s very pretty,” he pauses, wanting to drag it out, “and she’s super-”
“Remus,” you plead. Half wanting him to continue, half wanting him to stop to save your phone splitting in half where you’re holding it too hard. “Stop.”
Hearing your smile isn’t enough for him, “Super cool. Actually probably way too cool for me and…”
Remus sighs, very happy with himself.
“You done?” you ask. 
“Maybe.”
“You’re a nuisance.”
Remus decides to not argue, you’re half right anyways. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”
You pause, thinking. You’ve forgotten why you called him for a moment. Too happy with just listening to him talk. You think you could do it all day if he let you. “I was wondering if you were coming out tonight? Drinks?” You feel silly asking now. It was drinks for James, he’d gotten a promotion, but of course, Remus is coming, they're best friends.
“Are you?”
You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”
“Great. Me too.”
The excitement you feel when you know you’ll be seeing him again is palpable. Giddiness mixed with a number of nerves is always there whenever you think of him. He makes you feel like a schoolgirl again and you know he’ll be the cause of your undoing.
“Great.” 
A face-splitting smile erupts across Remus’s features. If only you could see each other.
-
The amount of time you spend getting ready in the afternoon for James’s get-together is silly. After what's an almost stupid amount of time rustling through your closet to find something, the final thing you settle on you hope isn’t stupid. A red skirt that ends mid-thigh, a white tee and a leather jacket. Boots that you hope actually do your legs justice, not just how they look in the mirror.
You know exactly why you're making such a fuss with your appearance. Spending an extra amount of time making sure loose hairs are sprayed down and a fresh coat of nail polish that's applied probably a little too late before you make your way out your front door.
You think that maybe if you didn’t know if Remus was attending or not it'd be a lot easier on you. Or maybe worse. God, you're a mess. You just really want to make him like you.
Arriving at the pub a little early is probably a bad idea in the long run. You greet James and Lily with equal delight. You hadn’t seen them since his shindig at least two weeks ago. Sirius, pint in hand, greets you loud enough to let the entire pub know of your arrival. Frank and Alice are absent. In-laws. You feel as though you had finally found the perfect group of friends.
James had told you that Remus was probably going to be late.
Which gives you too much time to down an inappropriate number of vodka-cranberries, much to Sirius’s delight. Pressed into a corner booth, settled next to James and Sirius who have now also transitioned to fruity drinks.
When Remus finally arrives, the sun now set, you're at least five cocktails deep. The pub is a little loud now, though you’d never struggle to hear any of your rambunctious friends. They're probably half the noise. You're a giggling mess, warm from the effects of alcohol. You feel ridiculously happy like you expected to, but you haven’t even seen Remus yet.
When you sip back the last dregs of your drink, the rim pressed into your nose, determined not to waste a single drop, your eyes finally settle on Remus who's selfishly been admiring you from afar. Your eyes light up like a delighted puppy and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.
He walks to the edge of the table, wet and sticky wood pressing into his jeans and he grimaces. “Finally he arrives,” James cheers, mojito raised in the air.
“Moony! Looking as ravishing as ever, my boy!” Sirius cheers with equal flare.
Remus ignores both of them with a tiny smile, too used to their words it’s like second nature to ignore them. “Sweetheart,” he smiles at you and you light up even more.
“Remus! You’re here.”
Sirius gets up and slides along the wall to make room for Remus next to you, “He looks ravishing, wouldn’t you say, Y/N? Good enough to eat,” he repeats
“I am hungry,” you admit with a giggle as Remus settles down next to you, only enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between your thighs.
“Having a good time, lovely?” Remus gestures to the empty glasses taking up the table in front of you. Your lips are stained red and he has to lick his own.
“Amazing!” You lean into his side and your hair tickles his neck. Your warmth seeps through Remus’s skin and he doesn’t have a single problem with how close the two of you are sitting. He’d be kidding himself if he said he did.
“I’m glad,” he says, hands settling atop the table.
“Are you?” You blink, eyes bright and welcoming. He has to avert his attention to your nose instead. Feeling as if you’d swallow him whole.
“I am now,” he grins.
Distracted, the half-empty glass in your hands spills when you twist its stem a little too quickly. A puddle of cosmo seeps into the half-polished tabletop and you cringe.
“Oops.” Quick to act, despite how sapped you feel from the cocktails, you grab a too-big handful of napkins from the dispenser in front of you.
With little to no flare, you push the entire pile of paper into the split drink and probably make it worse. The napkins almost turn to pink sludge and you only spread the drink further. A cold, sticky mess.
Remus laughs and grabs your wrists, pulling them up from the mess, “What have you done, hmm?” He puts your hands in your lap and you slouch, defeated.
“Accident,” you huff. You watch Remus’s hands swipe across the table, much better at cleaning up your mess. Like it wasn’t even there in the first place. 
Upset that your drink is now empty, when Sirius isn’t looking, too distracted talking quidditch with James, you reach forward and snatch his mojito. Cheering internally, too happy with yourself, you sip slowly.
“He won’t be too happy with that,” Remus laughs, pushing the serviettes to the side. 
You shrug, pushing further into the leather of the booth seat, “Accident.” you repeat.
Remus chuckles. You scull back the last of Sirius’s drink and Remus braces his hand on the skin between your shoulder blades, with a gentle “Take it easy,” 
You turn to him and wipe the line of drink from your chin with the back of your hand. Smiling before gently slamming the now-empty glass back to the table, a ring of condensation splashes across your palm. 
You wipe it across Remus’s leg unthinkingly and he wrinkles his nose. A dark stripe up his thigh. He takes your hand by the wrist again and grabs another napkin. Dabbing your palm gently and you act unaffected by his attentions when you trace the water on the table with your free hand.
“Am I the one who’s going to be doing the babysitting, tonight?” Remus counts the glasses that hadn’t been collected yet. Five. Six, now counting the one you stole.
You nod, gleefully.
“Saves me, then.” Lily takes another swig from her Pimm's, very happy. James presses into her side and throws his head back. 
“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.
“Boo. No fun,” you pout, eyeing only his third drink that he hadn’t touched in way too long, “You drink too slowly, that’s your problem.” 
He snorts, “I don’t have the drinking problems, lovely.” 
You gasp, hand to your chest, sticky fingers pressing into your skin, “Just because I’m having fun!” 
You notice the beginnings of a frown across Sirius’s face, clocking the glass in front of you, green to your past pink drinks, “You little sneak.”
You pout, “Okay, I’m sorry, let me get the next round.” You move to stand and when you’re upright, the room spins. You grab Remus’s shoulder for purchase and he grabs your forearm. His grip is grounding, flesh between his slender fingers.
“Okay, let me get the drinks,” he says, standing. The love-hate relationship you have with his height hurts sometimes.
“No, let me.” You rummage through the purse over your shoulder, through sickles and spare tampons, and pull out a measly fiver. You hold it up to him with a frown, paper crumpled in your hand.
Remus chuckles and places his hands on your shoulders, “Sit.”
You do what he says and ignore the warmth in the pit of your belly.
As Remus stands at the bar to wait for the drinks, he turns to watch you with a content smile on his face and a warmth spreading up his chest until it begs to swatch his cheeks. He watches as you cover your face with your hands, giggling madly at something James is telling you. 
He thinks his heart is messing with him when it skips in his chest. When you throw your head back, neck bared and your eyes squinted, your shoulders raise like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard (it could be but he doubts it), he thinks his heart has an actual fault. Almost halting completely when your eyes meet his and he thinks he’s been caught, but you smile contently and he has to look away before it jumps out his throat. 
He knows he’s truly done for.
He returns with a tray of drinks, mojito’s for his friends and a pint for himself, a packet of crisps pinched between his teeth. If he doesn’t choose to drink cocktails with everyone else because he wants to be sober to keep his eye on you, that’s completely his business. 
He places the drinks down, a hum of thank yous and cheers follow, he opens his mouth to let the crisps fall into your lap. You startle and look up at him, bemused.
“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.
You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.
“Where’s my fuckin food?” Sirius calls, voice very clear above the din of the pub. He throws a cube of ice at Remus and misses.
“Up your ass.” 
Sirius goes to reach for a crisp and you clutch the foil bag close to your chest. He doesn’t try again, thinking you might bite him. “Fuck, I need a cig.” 
He stands and stops Remus from sitting as he climbs over you. Squeezing past with almost zero care. You laugh, he seems hangry.
When he almost steps on your toe, “Look out, you prat.” Remus scolds.
“C’mon. Outside.” Sirius drags him away before he can even protest.
-
“You gonna ask her out, or what?” Sirus leans against the wall of the smoking area and flicks his ash.
Remus groans, “Don’t say it like it's easy or some shit.”
“Is it not?” Sirius laughs like it’s obvious. Remus envies his natural charm some days. He wished it came easy to him.
“No. She doesn’t like me like that.” Remus toes the gravel beneath his boot with a crunch. Watches as it skips across the ground and to the firepit. A distraction from the scolding that he’s expecting he’s about to get from Sirius.
Sirius coughs on a thick exhale of smoke, pushes himself off the wall. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
“What? No.” In some delusional, fucked up way, no, Remus is fucking with Sirius. Not since 7th year, anyways.
“She's mad about you,” Sirius laughs around the filter of his cigarette, “It’s sickening really. I mean she’s gotta be half dumb or something.” After another exhale he flicks more ash to the ground.
“Fuck up.”
“Whatever.”
There’s a beat before Remus says, “She doesn’t feel that way about me.” His head rests against the red brick behind him and wishes it would swallow him up. He wishes this was easier.
“What, you think she wears her best red skirt for people she doesn’t love?”
He lifts his head and glares at Sirius, “You really are a fucking twat, you know?” He steals the cigarette from between Sirius’s fingers and ignores his grunt as he inhales deeply. As deep as he can until Sirius swats his hand.
“I’m fucking kidding.” He takes it back, grimacing at the butt of what’s left.
“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.
Sirius flicks the orange filter to the ground and squashes it under his leather boot. “Seriously, Moons. Make a move already, it’s starting to get sad.”
He sighs, and Sirius almost wants to slap some sense into him. He doesn’t, remembering how he’d reacted last time he did. “I can’t. I’m not ruining anything.”
He decides to pat his shoulder instead, a gentler approach, “You’re a miserable sap.” He squeezes his sad friend, “She likes you, a lot, and she’s really good for you, y’know?”
“She is, isn’t she?” Remus sighs, lovelorn and dizzy, “Fuck, she’s so amazing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Have you seen her when she laughs? Fuck sakes.” He has to stop himself before he rants too much.
The both of them start to make their way back into the pub. “Alright, put your fucking cock away.”
Remus opens the door to the bar, “Get inside,” he laughs.
“If you don’t make a move soon, fuck I might.” Remus’s face goes slack and he pushes his dickhead of a friend towards their table with a little too much force. He stumbles with a hearty chuckle.
Left alone in the middle of the bar, a little incensed, he turns to look around and spots what looks like your aforementioned red skirt, standing in front of the claw machine. 
Bemused, but more intrigued, he beelines for you with slow strides. When he stands behind you he places his hand to your shoulder. You turn around and smile warmly. You’re standing, more like swaying, with both hands inside your purse.
“What are you doing, dove?” he asks and squeezes your shoulder. You push back into him, probably for the stability you lack. He braces you with his thigh behind yours.
“You smell like a chimney.” You wrinkle your nose and he laughs. It reverberates through your chest and you have to blink away the way it makes you feel. Sleepy.
“Sirius is a horrible influence,” he says with an equally wrinkled nose. 
“I’m looking for a coin,” you answer his question, looking back down into your purse. “Want to win you something.” Remus’s heart swells tenfold.
Before he can pull one from his pocket as an offering, you bend over and tip your entire purse to the paisley carpet, contents spilling everywhere. Wizard money, bright pink tampons, chapsticks and gum wrappers sit in a pile and Remus steps back with a disgruntled sigh.
You turn and crouch down to sort through everything, Remus looks down and gawps for a second. Half amused, half displeased. He bends down with you and helps as well.
“Do you think it'll take sickles?” you question, moving bandaids to the side. It’s looking like a lost cause.
Remus shakes his head with a laugh, “I don’t think so, honey.” 
You frown. 
“Here,” He handles a few items and places them in your purse, “I’ll help you clean this up and I’ll win you something, hm?” Remus thinks you’re a bit like Mary Poppins with how much stuff you have. He’d say this to you because you probably would understand the muggle reference, but you seem too upset over your lack of coins. 
“Was gonna win you some chocolate,” you laugh, picking up more stuff. 
The last few items fall back in with little organisation and he stands. You take his outstretched hands and let him gently tug you back up with a ruffle of your hair.
He pulls a coin from his pocket and slots it into the machine. You stand around to the side with your hands pressed to the glass like a little kid. The flow of colours washes you fluorescent as you point to a cherry ripe in a perfect spot.
He grips the joystick and moves it to where he thinks it hovers right above it.
“More to the left,” you say with your finger smooshed against the machine.
“You’re drunk,” he says before he pushes the red button on top of the stick, not moving it to where you’d said.
You laugh as it doesn’t even graze the chocolate. Claw coming back up with nothing. “Whatever.” He has two more chances at grabbing it and he’s determined.
The second time he does listen to you but still misses by the width of a hair. You both hold your breath as the claw gets lowered for the final time. You bend over to get a better view and watch as it gets picked up, not cheering until it gets dropped in the chute.
You clap as Remus cheers, taking the chocolate thankfully, opening it immediately with a crinkle of red foil. “Thank you, Remus.”
“Anytime.”
You break the chocolate in half and offer him the bigger portion. You both stand there, chewing on cherry and coconut and chocolate. You look at your sticky fingers and the worst of the after-effects of six cocktails suddenly hits you in a wave of nausea. Not enough to make you want to throw up, but enough for you to groan and grab your stomach.
“I think I should go home,” you whine, placing your half of the chocolate back into the wrapper and into your purse, probably just to melt and make a mess. A later problem, you think.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, turning to check you over. Etebrows pinched in concern already.
“I think I had too many cocktails,” you laugh, weakly at that.
“How are you getting home?” he asks.
You laugh, having flashbacks to your last encounter. “That’s my line.” 
“It’s a good one.”
“I don’t know how I’m getting home,” you say.
“I’ll call you a taxi.”
You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”
-
After saying goodbye to the rest of the group, after they’d moaned about your fifteen-minute disappearance with Remus, Thought you’d gotten stuck in the cubicle! James had laughed. Drunkenly, you’d missed the joke. Remus had smacked him up the back of the head. But now, the both of you were making your way to the front entrance.
Remus has to drag you out the door, holding you upright as you stammer and trip on things that aren't there.
“Be careful,” he tuts, holding you closer under his arm. 
“There was a frog!” you explain, very much exasperated.
“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.
“Was so!” you strain, fisting his shirt behind his back, sure to stretch the cotton.
“You just want me to hold you tighter.” He’s smug when he says it and can’t really help it. He has Sirius’s words ringing in the back of his head. 
You stop at the gutter and kick a stone with your boot, “Maybe.”
Your knees ache, wanting nothing more than to crouch down to the ground. You think it would probably be a bad idea. Though with sore knees and a spinning head, bad ideas turned to the best. 
You pull yourself from Remus' hold and bend your legs to crouch in the gutter. Remus’s eyes blow wide and he looks down at you. Not again, he thinks.
Before he can ask what you’re doing, thinking you've passed out, you look up, “Head rush,” you giggle with a huff of air. He sits down next to you, knees almost pressed into his chin. 
Remus tugs your knee so you turn towards him, legs pressed together. He keeps his large palm over your thigh because being crouched in a gutter leaves little to the imagination to the drunks walking past and he’s not going to ask you to get up if you’re dizzy. 
“You okay?” he murmurs. 
You rest your head on his shoulder much like he had the last time you saw him. He hopes he had more care than you do with your cheek cruelly smooshed into his skin. “I’m just a little drunk.” 
Lucky for Remus, before he thinks you’re about to fall asleep on his shoulder, your taxi is pulling up. He helps you stand, opens the back door and ushers you in. 
Listening to your murmur of thanks Remus before he clicks you in. 
“What’s your address, dove? So I can tell the driver.” You give him your address and he passes it off. 
Before he can close the door for you, you grab his wrist. 
“When can I see you next?” you ask brightly. Hopefully. 
“Call me when you’re not hungover,” he laughs, brushing his fingers across your arm. Your grip hardens. 
“You’ll answer?” He almost laughs again at how drunk you sound. Of course, he’ll answer. 
“Of course, sweetheart.” 
You lean across your seat, seatbelt pulling taut as you press a kiss to his cheek. Warm and buttery-soft just like last time, but maybe even worse now that his feelings for you are stronger. It burns. 
“Thank you, Remus.” 
“That’s okay, lovely.” 
-
You in fact did call Remus, a couple of days after your night out. Expected, you were hungover so you waited a day after to talk. 
Remus hadn’t really been expecting you to call him, despite how eager you seemed, he had talked himself out of believing you had any feelings for him. Like he’d imagined it or something. 
So, when his phone rings, he’s not expecting it to be you at all. He answers with a sigh, thinking it’s James or Sirius. 
“What do you want?” His voice is void of any excitement or joy you’d been selfishly expecting. You were also expecting a more welcoming greeting. 
“Remus?” you say, and his hand stills in his cupboard where he’s distractedly putting clean dishes away. 
He shuts the cupboard’s door a little too abruptly and cringes, clears his throat so he can speak, “Y/N! Shit, sorry. Hey.” He cringes even more at his stupidity. 
“Expecting someone else?” you laugh. 
He nods like you can see him, “Yeah, sorry.” He swallows and tries to fix himself, “How are you?” 
“I’m good,” you say with a little sigh, “Really, really good.” 
“That’s great!” 
“Yeah, how are you?” you question. 
Remus’s voice goes quieter, “Amazing.” Then there’s a small beat like you’re both thinking, “So, what’s up? Everything okay?” 
In his mind, his stupid, paranoid mind, there’s a possibility that all you’ve done is pocket-dialled him. Or, accidentally pressed his name in your contacts, maybe mistaken the name Moony for Mum. 
Is his name Moony in your phone? Or is it just Sirius’s friend? God, he wants his thoughts to shut up. 
“I wanted to ask you something!” When it sounds like you actually want to talk to him, what almost feels like relief washes over him. Paints him bright as he settles on his sofa, beaming like a schoolboy when he says, 
“Oh, yeah?” 
“Yeah!” Your excitement is dizzying. “Are you free this weekend?” 
He has to swallow before he speaks, eagerness bleeds through his skin. His foot taps and he picks at a loose thread on his battered shirt.  “Yeah, I am.” 
You chirp a happy noise, “Awesome! Cool. Um, there’s that gig on at The Red Lion if you wanted to come?”
Remus doesn’t see himself as a cool person and it definitely doesn’t show when he says, “Yeah! I’d love to.” in a tone pitched higher than normal. 
“Great. I think Sirius is coming too, I told him about it the other day and said he should invite the others. I wasn’t sure if he had asked you yet.” 
Oh. 
Remus feels like the biggest idiot ever. You weren’t asking him out, why would you? 
He leans down between his legs until all the air is forced from his lungs, he covers the receiver with his hand and groans, long and suffering in self-pity. 
Is coughing to clear your throat and hide your disappointment a good thing? Because his voice is a little squeaky when he replies. When he sits back up his head spins. “Sounds great.” 
He hears some shuffling on the end of your line before you say, “Amazing. I’ll see you then. Sorry, gotta go. Bye Remus!” 
“Bye, sweetheart.” 
Remus has about thirty seconds of wallowing in self-pity before his phone is ringing again. He wants to shove it in between his sofa cushions and forget about everything. But he sees Sirius' name flash up on the screen so he answers. 
“Moony!” Sirius’s voice pierces the phone line and Remus cringes. “Remus, my good friend.”
“Did you just get lucky or something?” Remus gruffs. 
“Huh?” 
“You’re too happy. Calm it down.” 
Sirius groans, “You’re so content with being miserable, Remus. Just because you can’t get your dick wet.” 
Remus wished his stupid friend could see the displeasure on his face, “What do you want?” 
“You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?” He questions and Remus hums a yes, expecting to hear the exact same question you had just asked him only three minutes ago. 
“Well, you, me, the gang, and a few pints at The Red Lion. Sounds like a plan?” Remus detests his friend's happiness. Or envies it. He feels miserable and doesn’t think Sirius is deserving of his lack of enthusiasm just because you didn’t ask him out. 
“Yeah, Y/N already asked me,” he replies. 
“Well, don’t get too excited.” Sirius huffs a laugh. 
“No, sorry. It’s just I thought she- never mind. Sounds good.” 
“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.” 
Remus almost laughs, “The deets? Wait until I tell Marls you talk like that.” 
“Shut up.” 
“Bye, Sirius.” 
Sirius hangs up before he can. 
-
Remus spots you before you do, again. Watches where you lean against the bar on your tip-toes, talking to the bartender about something. He’s making you laugh and he feels the stupid need that it should be him instead. 
He does what he always does; walks up behind you and presses his shoulder into your back. You chirp and turn around. Then, your eyes do that thing that they always do that makes him bite the inside of his cheek. They squint, confused, and then light up when you realise who you’re looking at. Remus could swear that they sparkle, but that’s just something he imagines in his lovesick head. 
“Remus!” You smile, mouth upturning until the apples of your cheeks swell. You wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your side. He lets you, willingly. 
“Y/N,” he says probably a little too quietly for the setting. The pub is starting to fill quickly while the band does sound check, the general hubbub of the patrons mixes in with the strumming of guitars and the feedback from the mics. 
“You’re all wet,” you giggle, pressing your fingers into the underside of his arm. 
“Yeah, it’s starting to rain out there,” he says. 
“You walked?” You frown, pulling your hands from his arm. He can still feel where your fingers were wrapped. A burn against his wet skin. 
“From the bus stop.” 
“You know there’s this thing wizards can do, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s called disapparition,” you quirk, mouth upturning into a teasing smile.
Amused, Remus says, “I don’t usually like muggles to watch someone appear out of thin air.”
You reach forward to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the bar, probably too many. “I would’ve picked you up,” you say matter-of-factly.
He doesn’t reply, just stops still when you reach up to brush away the damp hair from his eyes. There’s water bunching in his hair and falling in tiny beads down his face, over his top lip. You laugh when he licks it away before you dab across his forehead and then his cheeks. 
“I missed you,” you say, bunching the paper into a ball. 
Remus smiles, too hard he thinks. “You saw me last weekend.” 
You think he might be teasing you, though you’re not sure. You feel like you’ve overstepped. Demure, your eyes widen at your error. “Sorry,” you laugh, airy and quiet. 
Remus pokes you in your side, “I missed you too,” he laughs. 
You nod your head and bite your lip. You feel eased. But embarrassed in the first place. Scrunching the ball of damp napkins in your hands until it pinches. Still, you’re overjoyed. 
“What are you drinking?” you ask, splaying your hands over the bar, leaning where it comes up to your chest. You try to ignore everything. The way Remus is making you feel, the busy pub that’s teeming with rowdy people. 
“Not sure,” he quirks, eyeing the taps at the end of the bar. “What about you?” 
“I think I might just stick to squash,” you laugh knowingly. 
“You’re on it tonight,” Remus laughs, splaying his fingers around your shoulder. 
“I’m not having any repeats of last week.” 
“Damn,” he pouts, “Drunk Y/N is cute.” 
You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.” 
He squeezes you, a funny pinch. “I think you can be both.” 
You lean into his side while he orders your drinks. His hand doesn’t move and you don’t want it to. It’s warm and grounding and feels too good to be true. How touchy he is and how you love it. You imagine a world where he doesn’t just touch your shoulder. Imagining what he’d do if you were together. How ruining he would be. 
Distracted by his grip on your arm, before you can even reach into your purse to grab your money, he’s paid. 
“Remus,” you scold, pushing yourself off the bar. 
“Dove,” he smiles, placating. He grabs both of your drinks, in one hand, fingers twisting. The other snakes down to grab your hand to guide you through the crowd of people. 
“Stop paying for my drinks.” Someone bumps into you and Remus digs his elbow into your side to stop you from tripping. You smile thankfully. 
You let him weave you through patrons, your hand flexing around his until you get to your table. Once you've sat down, he says, “Sorry, didn’t think a fiver would cover it.” 
Faux scolding, you shove his arm. “I have more money on me this time.” 
“Good,” Sirius pipes up, “you can buy me that cocktail you owe me.” 
“I’m sorry, Sirius.” You act like it genuinely does upset you. Though the thought of how you acted when you were drunk last week, is worse. “I’m a really annoying drunk.”
“Sirius is being dramatic,” Remus sighs, leaning back against the booth. He throws an arm behind you, pressing it up against the wall. You stay sitting forward, not sure if it’d be too much to lean into him. Despite him making the first move. “You got your cocktail.”
“Yeah, you bought it,” Sirius faux scoffs. It’s hard to believe that he actually cares about a stolen mojito, easier to believe he’s determined to tease you until you die. “Doesn’t count.”
“I’ll buy you a cocktail if you really want me to, Sirius,” you lilt, happy to get him to shut up. It works when Remus shoots him a look you don’t understand. Sirius bites his tongue and sits back in his seat. 
By the time James and Lily get back from the bar, the band has started their set and you’ve had enough time to think too much on whether or not you should lean into Remus’s side. His weight behind you feels like a magnet. The more you want to pull away the stronger the urge is to just give up and fall against him. 
Much like everything is with Remus. The more you allow yourself to think you really do like him, the harder it is to keep to your regular ways. You’ve never allowed yourself to be so openly affectionate and loving towards someone without second-guessing every single thing you do.
Not that you don’t. Every time you speak to him, touch his arm for too long or allow yourself to wrap your own arm around his back, there’s that voice in the back of your head that’s screaming at you. Telling you that you’ve let your guard down too much for a boy you’re not even sure likes you as much as you do him and you’ve embarrassed yourself.
It’s totally overwhelming and constantly feels like a back-and-forth battle. Because, sure, it's no secret anymore to anyone who isn't Remus, that you like him. You just wished it were easier.
As if he can hear your head reeling, or he’s just noticed how quiet you’ve suddenly become, he nudges your leg where it’s crossed with his own jean-clad one.
“You okay?” he asks. His face is soft. Too soft for your dismissive and relentless thoughts to ebb. It’s suddenly painful to even be looking at him and you’ve only been around him for no less than twenty minutes. He’s always had that ability.
The nod you give him is unconvincing and your smile is even worse. His eyes flicker and you open your mouth to speak before he can, “Yeah, jus’ thinking.”
“I can tell.” 
“You can?”
You chance another look back at him and regret it instantly when he’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Yeah.” He nods, “You’re making that face you always do when something’s eating at you.”
Hating being read for filth, you turn to take a sip from your drink, filling your mouth with your straw lest you say something stupid. You drink it too quickly, and once it’s down to its last dregs, your head aches. Brain freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to distract yourself when you say, “What face?”
“Your lips part and your eyebrows pinch. Sometimes I have to double-check you’re not crying.” Remus is a lovely, horribly attentive boy. And if he keeps saying things like that, things that let you know he does actually pay attention to you, you’re not going to last. When you said you wondered how ruining he would be, this isn’t what you had in mind.
Remus says something to you again, but you don’t catch it. The band transitions into a much louder song and his words fall on deaf ears. You do, however, catch the look he shares with Sirius again over your shoulder. 
Confused, you suddenly think fresh air would be better than to pain yourself through whatever’s happening around you. “I’ll go get that mojito,” you mumble.
You weave yourself over Remus’s lap, careful where your shoes and hands land, careful to also ignore where he stables you with his own hand on the back of your knee. You try to make it discrete as you beeline for the bar, taking a small turn to head for the back doors.
The warm air cast from the setting sun slowly dwindles away and you cross your arms over your body, leaning against the railing to the left of the smoking area. When the door shuts behind you, the music from inside slowly dies down and you’re grateful to be the only one out here. 
The fear you have been feeling throughout your entire friendship with Remus does its best to claw its way up your throat. Makes your breathing staggered and your palms itch. You suspect if you spent any more time with him inside you would’ve only embarrassed yourself more than you feel like you already have. Best you do it out here instead.
The muffled music slowly grows louder when you hear the door open and you pay it no mind. Not until there’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and turn around, pushing yourself against the railing.
“Shit, sorry. Just me,” Remus smiles, pulling his hand from your shoulder.
“Remus,” you breathe, hand to your chest, “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he frowns.
You pause. Trust him to notice your departure. You hope he doesn’t ask you any questions, you don’t expect yourself to hold anything in anymore if he soothes you over.
“You okay?”
Fuck sakes.
“Um, yeah.” You nod. Remus moves to your side, arm pressed up against the railing and you follow him. Turning so you’re face to face.
“You sure? You just kind of up and left.” he laughs weakly, stopping when he notices you don’t join in.
“Sorry,” you apologise.
“What for?” he asks kindly. You once more detest his kindness and his ability to get you to open up.
“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning further into the railing and it rattles, “I’m being weird.” You’re not opening up like you’d expected, though the words you want to say to him are at the back of your mind, where they were once pushed away, slowly crawling forward. If he keeps looking at you like that, they might spill.
“You’re not.”
“I am. I’m thinking too much and it,” you heave a calming breath. You want to tell him how you feel, not ramble, “it hurts.”
“Hey,” He traces a line over the hinge of your elbow, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm? Care to let me in?”
You swallow, “That’s the problem. I can’t find the words.”
“That’s okay.” He squeezes your arm, “Take your time.”
His gaze is soft though it still burns where it’s settled over your face, his grip on your arm is worse. Still, it’s grounding. You blink and take a few calming breaths.
The door opens up again and the band’s music spews back outside. It’s the same song that was playing the night you sat on Sirius's couch and you’d freaked about how it was both your favourite. In some cheesy, cliche way, you take it as a sign.
“I’ve never been one for showing, let alone telling someone how I feel about them,” you begin, “I’m not sure if that’s the most obvious thing ever, or if I’ve gotten really good at hiding it but…”
Remus is smiling widely, more smug than anything. It makes you nervous and you advert your gaze to the ground. Over the ash-strained brick tile under your sneakers, “Stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to finish what I’m trying to tell you,” you sigh.
“Like what?” he asks like he’s oblivious. Like his mouth isn’t now upturned into the slyest smile.
“That!’’ Your face grows warm and you have to press the backs of your hands into them. You can feel the thrumming of your heart in your fingertips.
“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles. 
“God, where did you get all this confidence from, Remus?” you ask, a little dazed. Maybe it’s the setting or the fact you’re both finally sober together that brings out a different side of him, though you can’t be sure.
Remus shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you get flustered.”
Your mouth parts, a shocked, demure gasp slips past them. Gawping, you say, “You’re not drunk, are you?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it's the first time it feels different.
“Not this time. For once,” he laughs knowingly.
“Right,” you pause. Taking in a shuddered breath. In what world you would ever expect this to be easy, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure that doing this with Remus makes it easier. Easier, because he makes you feel secure and appropriately worked down to tell him anything; harder because it’s him you have to let your emotions go with. It’s him you have to let know of your heartachingly, sore feelings you have. He can’t just be there on the sidelines guiding you through it.
Remus watches you slip away into your shy, quiet self again. He can almost hear your thoughts reeling, “God, you’re worse than me.”
You giggle nervously, all pitched up and light, “You make me nervous,”
He steps forward and if your eyes weren’t stuck on the ground, you wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s smooth. “Do I now?” He hooks a knuckle under your downwardly pointed chin and gives it a tap.
You look back up, catching his gaze, “I hate you,”
“No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Like its the most obvious thing ever. You’re sure it is.
“I don’t?” You blink slowly.
He closes the gap between you some more and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by him. The smell of his laundry detergent, something familiar and heady, mixed in with the cologne that you swear follows you home. Where the toe of his boot almost touches your sneaker and where the sleeve of his sweater catches on your bracelet because he’s as close as possible. Though you still think he’s not close enough. 
His voice mixes in with the same song that’s playing inside and you can barely hear him when it builds to a crescendo and he says, “You weren’t about to go on some rant about how you love me?”
“Remus…” you murmur, quieter than the thumping of your heart in your chest,
“No?”
You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop you from saying, “God, yes. Just- kiss me, please.”
“What?” he asks, more shocked than you’ve been this entire interaction.
“Kiss me, Remus. Before the song ends.” You lean into him, up on the balls of your feet and pull your hands between your bodies.
Face to face, lips hovering over yours, he murmurs, “You sure?”
“Completely,”
It’s the last thing you say before Remus kisses you so hard, so deep, that you forget how it was even possible to form words in his presence before now. Snakes his arms around your back and holds you so close your shirt rides up until your skin presses into the soft material of his sweater. 
He tastes of stout, a weird mixture against the lemon on your tongue. You can’t find it in you to mind when he hums into your mouth. A desperate, pleading sound that has you squeezing the flesh of his hips. Compared to the reserved and diffident relationship you’ve held with Remus up until now, the kiss you share is nothing alike. It’s passionate and heated. Longing.
The song ends and with a final tug of your bottom lip, he pulls away panting. Eyes skipping over your face, a little glassy and bouncy. “Fuck,” he murmurs.
Tugging on the hem of his sweater, you say, “What?’' with a light chuckle.
“If I…” Remus has to compose himself lest he says something embarrassing. Completely forward. “If I knew kissing you would’ve been like that…I would’ve done it ages ago.”
“I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time,” you confess, giddily rocking back and forth on your feet. Canvas sneakers crushing into the ground.
“Yeah?” he hums. Smugness still ever present.
“Yeah.”
“Thoughts on me kissing you again?” he asks, still not letting you go where you’re held against his torso.
You look over his shoulder, “I think if you kiss me again, Sirius’s jaw might fall to the floor.”
Remus turns and spots Sirius and James almost pressed to the glass window. James doesn’t look as pleased, shoving a crumpled note into Sirius's palm. Turning back to face you, he rolls his eyes, “I think they had a bet going.”
“Should we give Sirius his money’s worth?” you giggle.
“I’m going to kiss you. But, not for Sirius.” Remus says, “Only because you look insanely beautiful right now and if I don’t do it again, my brain might go numb.”
“What are you waiting for then?”
“Nothing.”
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pablitogavii · 4 months
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Hi! How are you?
I was wondering if you could do something like the reader moves in with Gavi to take care of him because of his injury. And how she takes care of him constantly.
Thanks🫶🏻
Love this request love <33
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"Amor, you really don't have to clean all of that alone. I can always get cleaning ladies to come earlier this month??" Pablo said seeing you vacuuming his living room while he sat on the couch with his leg in a cast.
He really appreciated you moving in-and helping him around the house but he didn't want you to feel obligated to do it all for him. Besides, he wished he could just get up and take that vacuum away from you finally.
"Don't worry about it cariño, dinner will be done soon too. If you want to call your friends to join us??" you ask knowing that Pablo was missing his teammates a lot and hated being so far away from Barça.
"I just want you and me tonight princesa.." he said and you giggled with blushing making him smirk at your shy nature. That's one of the things Pablo adored..no matter how long you've been together he still makes you shy around himself.
"Bueno. And you favorite meatloaf pasta??" you say finishing up the vacuuming and taking some wipes to clean the desk in front of him.
"Hmm don't test me amorcito.." he said reaching forwards and touching your bum making you jump and turn around to roll your eyes at him. You secretly liked it..and he knew it.
"Come sit on my lap amorcito" he said but you didn't want to hurt his leg more telling him you can just sit besides him instead.
Pablo was protesting grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him the moment your butt hit the couch. You sighed placing your arms around his neck an leaning in to kiss him before caressing his face gently.
"Que?" you say blushing more from the way he was looking at you like it was the first time you've seen each other.
"What have I done to deserve such a gem in my life?? Such a precious little angel..looking over me..taking care of me..loving me" he kissed sides of your face and neck as he spoke and you moved a little on his lap.
"You're..umm..making me shy Pablito" you said pulling back and he smirks nodding his head and moving your hair from your face to look at it in admiration.
"Why? Because I praise you so much?" he sais leaning in and kissing your cheeks that were hot and pink.
"Too much.." you sigh and he shakes his head holding your face in place and kissing your lips lovingly. It was his favortie thing to do..to see his girl shy for him.
"Nonsense mi amor..you deserve every praise leaving my mouth..every kiss..and every caress..just be all mine and I'll give it all to you" he spoke gently and you were in trance enjoying the way his fingers felt, his voice sounded and his lips tasted.
Just when his fingers started moving underneth you blouse did the doorbell interrupted you making you jump off his lap and rush to open.
"Saved by the bell mi amor" he said and you blushed opening to see Pedri and Yamal standing there with flowers in their hands.
"Come in guys!" you said taking the flowers they brought and they walked into the living room to a very grump Gavi sitting there with remote in his hand.
"Did we interrupt anything amigo?" Pedri said sitting down and Yamal looked clueless (poor boy) as you came back with some refreshments and snacks.
"Shut up!" Pablo said annoyingly looking at you with longing while this time you smirked putting down the drinks on the table.
"I'll go make dinner, amor. You guys wanna eat with us??" you ask but seeing Pablo's stern stare both boys said 'no' quickly.
"Bueno, don't forget the medication in half an hour cariño" you remind him and he nods seeing the boy giggle at how you were treating him like complete baby.
"We got the signal, let's go Yamal! Have fun cabrón!" Pedri said after finishing his drink and the boy followed very confused about the whole situation. Pablo smirked getting up after taking his medication and limping towards you in the kitchen.
When his arms snaked around you jumped turning around with your arms on his chest. He trapped you against the stove.
"What are you doing up Pablito!? You shouldn't be walking! Let's get back to the couch, please.." you say trying to move but he wouldn't let you leaning down to capture your lips.
"I'm fine mi amor, don't worry. Can I try it??" he said and you smile taking a little bit and placing it into his mouth as he moaned at the delicious flavor.
"Alright, let's go back now..want me to massage your leg cariño? It's been helping you sleep" you say and he smiles nodding his head and walking back to the living room with you.
You brought some warming lotion and massaged his sore muscles while he laid down looking at you with heart shaped eyes. He was so infatuated by everything you've been doing for him..how well you took care of him for months now.
"Amor..venga aqui" he said holding you hand and you stopped massaging him moving closer and kissing his lips while his hand held your face.
"I love you, mi preciosa..and I couldn't imagine getting better without you in my life" he said and you pouted making him chuckle and kiss your bottom lip lovingly.
"Hm..why did your friends go so quickly cariño??" you smirked and he did as well hiding his face into your neck.
"Can you blame me?? It's been months..and I crave you so badly" he said making your hand move from his leg closer to his bulge massaging it gently.
"Hm..maybe you should let me take care of you in another way then??" you said moving downwards while he groaned tossing his head back as you played with his painfully hard cock.
"F..fuck a..amor!" he said as you slowly took him out of his shorts grazing your lips over him as he looked down in awe. You started licking his lips enjoying the familiar taste of him while his hand went to your hair turning you on to the maximum.
"Hmm..is this helping you amor??" you said playfully and he groaned when you moved further down getting as much of him in your mouth as you could.
"F..fuck YES!! J..just like that..my good girl" he said and you enjoyed the praise continuing to suck him off feeling his whole body finally relax.
"U..ughh" Pablo tried moving as his high washed over him but you stopped him taking his dick on your own hand and stroking it quickly as his cum decorated your hand. You licked him clean afterwards kissing his lips after wards until you both heard a fire alarm..fuck dinner!! HAHAAH
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