#girl you know damn well i barely noticed andy

[edelweiss-coffee]

hey! hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if maybe you can do one for Steve x reader where you’re really close best friends and one day you both go to a house party and steve gets pretty drunk and just super affectionate with you? like he’s never done this before and he’s holding your hand and sometimes even stealing kisses as if it’s something normal he always did and you blush every time but just overall drunk affection from your best friend

i got completely out of hand with this i'm sorry it's so long-- i never get to write for steve and i got carried away xoxo

"that lipstick-- again"

steve taps his foot, mocking impatience.

"you ready to go, cleopatra?" he jeers at you applying your eyeliner.

"almost," you drawl, mouth open, as if it will somehow make your eyes wide enough to fit a perfect stroke of liner.

"since we're late," he sets a beer can on your vanity. "pre-game?" he smirks.

"ah, don't you have to drive?" you ask, barely looking away from your mirror.

"yes, y/n, i do. that's why this," he cracks the beer open. "is for you. loosen up a bit?" he sticks his tongue out and nudges your shoulder.

"steve!" you motion at the lipstick in your hand, and the line of blushed pink smeared across your cheek.

"ope!" he laughs apologetically as you wipe your cheek and try again.

"fucker," you laugh. "i'm ready now."

"not yet, you're not. drink up, buttercup." he hands you the beer.

"fine, fine," you agree. and grab it. you take a sip first, but it's cold and therefore flavorless, so you just gulp the whole can down.

"damn, okay. let's go then." steve laughs and steps out the door.

the ride is short, but steve sings along loudly to his favorite mixtape all the while.

"I DON'T WANNA LOSE YOUR LOVE, TONIIIIGHT!" he beams, slightly out of tune, as your hair blows in the wind. what a sweet little memory to keep with your best friend.

when the two of you arrive to the party, the music is loud. everybody is attached to everybody. it's hot, and it smells like weed.

"y/n, over here," steve motions toward the kitchen.

he steps to the counter and pours nearly half a bottle of vodka into a cup and mixes it with what may as well be a teaspoon of soda.

"jeez, harrington. tryna put some hair on your chest, or what?" you tease, grabbing a shot glass.

"'m thirsty, what can i say?"

he starts downing his cup with ease. as you pour vodka into your shot glass, he starts making another drink, already.

christ.

you take the shot.

the bass of the music booms through the house as steve crafts his "drink" and you opt for a beer. you feel yourself reaching for steve as a comfort. you don't go out too much. but you let him finish mixing.

"c'mon, pretty girl. living room?" he gestures to you. cup in one hand, vodka bottle in the other.

"takin' that with ya?" you jeer.

"do you wanna keep comin' back into the kitchen for refills, or do you wanna do shots all comfy with your buddy?" he asks sarcastically.

he walks through the awning and into the living room. he's already stumbling. not a lot, just enough that you notice. having watched the boy walk up your driveway enough times to be familiar with his gait.

the two of you find the somehow empty reading window and sit gently next to eachother. as you sip your beer, steve chugs down his second drink and looks at you.

"you look so, so nice tonight, y/n.” he taps you on your leg and smiles.

"thanks, harrington," you laugh.

what a dork.

"that's really sUPER, SUPERGIIIIRLLL," he sings along to the song blasting on the stereo.

"didn't know you liked XTC, harrington. their music is for nerds," you tease, knowing full well they're your favorite band.

"oh really, y/l/n? that's inchresting--" he slurs. "aonly know this song buguz it's always playing on YOUR stero, you do realize that?" he laughs and brushes his hands against his thighs.

you smile and raise your hands above your head in mimed surrender.

"ya got me, i love me some andy partridge. gonna go grab a drink," you sigh, and stand to start toward the kitchen.

steve pulls you back down to sit, and you land on his lap.

"got a bottle right here, remember?" he drones. his voice is far more personal, quieter than you're used to. he looks at you through glossy eyes and glances down at your lips. his hands move down to your hips.

"you, y/n, are magnificently beautiful. breathtaking, even."

his hand moves from your hip to the side of your face. his face inches closer to yours and his eyes start to flutter.

holy shit, he's trying to kiss me.

"i-- i think you're pretty too, steve," you burst, climbing off his lap and back to your spot, next to him.

he's pretty drunk, so he shrugs off your rejection fairly easily. he swings the vodka bottle into your lap.

"still thirsty?" steve teases, with a smirk that would make any girl in hawkins swoon.

"yeah, thanks," you laugh, opening the bottle. you grab your cup and tilt the bottle.

"ah, c'mon. just take shots right out of the bottle. more fun that way." he playfully slaps his arm onto your thigh, but doesn't pick his hand off as quickly as he placed it there. you do as he suggested and take sips straight from the bottle, his thumb rubbing the fabric of your jeans.

"do you wanna... dance with me?" he asks.

"dance with you?" you laugh. "here?"

"why not? everyone's high out of their minds anyway. nobody's lookin'."

"stevie knicks makin' you feel romantic or something... stevie?" you giggle. "sure, lets dance."

you stand and reach for his hand. he looks shocked at how quickly you stood up, and stumbles to his feet, a bit off-kilter.

"get your bearings, stevie," you whisper, his hands reaching around your waist.

"you look so great tonight, y/n."

"you've said that a few times, beer goggles."

"it's not the alcohol, y/n, it's just my heart."

you lay your head on his chest and you both sway drunkenly to the music.

"you, you make lovin' fun, and i don't have to tell you, but you're the only one"

"i'm sorry for screwin' up your makeup earlier."

"don't worry about it, i fixed it up real quick. why are you still thinking about that?" you lift your head from his chest and lock eyes with him.

"just wanted to know how you felt about it, 'cos i've got this undying urge, y/n."

"undying urge?" you laugh. "to do what, pray tell?"

"to ruin that pretty pink lipstick, again."

your face burns up and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours. his hands make their way to your cheeks and his fingers lock into your hair. you pull away and look at his pink lips, his cherry cheeks. his glassy eyes.

"you are a lush, steve harrington."

"and you, y/n y/l/n, are the best friend i've ever had."

#steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve fanfic #asks

[thefallennightmare]

Guilt-Twenty Three

Pairings: Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: fluff, mostly angst, swearing, and some implied smut here and there.

Summary: When a murder hits the small-town reader lives in and personally attacks the family she works for, she would never image the toll that it would take on her as well. But not for the reason people would think. The last thing Reader thought she would find herself in during the murder trial was falling in love with her boss, Andy Barber and him returning those feelings.

Authors Note: Anyone want some possessive Andy? Because that's what you're going to get in these next few parts. Tags are open!

Tags: @emimaki @liecastillo @patzammit @evansgal @posiemax @iamemy4 @falling-solar-system @tothemoonandbackx3000 @beckygirl95 @artis1979 @mommad @jennamarieee623 @mansaaay @bellaireland1981 @torntaltos @greeneyedblondie44 @yosoysere @lowkeysebby @dissapointmentofthefam @mansaaay @moonie-brbs @winterberryfox @kookie-sun0097 @bellahadidrealgf @speedy-object-dream @keepcalmandbeajunkie

The bright sunlight warmed my skin, a red glow already covering the bare skin of my thighs. I leaned back into the lawn chair, letting the sound of the waves ease my thought filled mind. The body next to me, however, couldn’t stop squirming which caught my attention.

“If you’re bored Jacob, you don’t have to hang with me,” I smiled while lifting up my sunglasses.

“I’m not,” he shook his head. “I’d rather hang out with you than my parents.”

We both looked a few chairs away from where we had perched ourselves where Laurie and Andy sat, talking amongst themselves. But when I turned my attention back to Jacob, I noticed his gaze wasn’t on his parents; it was on a cute blonde girl that gathered his attention.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” I smirked.

Jacob looked away, embarrassed. “I wasn't-”

“Sure you weren't,” I joked while covering my eyes with my sunglasses once more. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go hang out with people your own age, Jacob.”

He mewled over my words for a few seconds and after a quick decision, he hopped off his chair while making his way towards said blonde girl.

Once again, I found myself alone on this trip, which I didn’t mind; the first few two days. But now, on the third day of laying out in the sun, I found myself in another episode of boredom. I arrived later to the resort in Mexico later than the Barbers, so I didn’t see them until yesterday morning.

I did my best to avoid Laurie and Andy but kept close to Jacob. We did some fun things around the resort, but I knew he was getting sick of tagging along with me so when he found the opportunity to hang with kids his age, I made sure he took it.

Turning my head to the right once again, I watched from under my glasses as Laurie stood from her spot and walked back towards the outdoor bar. Andy watched her leave before his eyes landed back on me, giving me a small smile; one that I returned before looking back out at the ocean.

The heat had become a bit too much as I made my way towards the water to cool off. There may have been a few sets of eyes on me but there was one that I could feel burning into my backside. I let the cold water cool down my burning skin and I almost moaned in pleasure. The water felt amazing on me and once I came up, hair drenched, I looked back towards Andy and the intense gaze I saw in his eye was enough to bring me to my knees.

Did I purposely pack the skimpiest swimsuit I had?

Yes.

Did I purposely want to make Andy fawn over the way I looked so I know what he had given up?

You’re damn right I did.

Once I was back on the sand, I saw that Laurie was back next to Andy, taking his attention once more. Her fingers ran through his hair before leaving a kiss on his lips.

A soft sigh fell from my lips when I felt my heart drop again and realized that in order to get through the next two days of this vacation, I needed my own drink.

There wasn’t an easy way to get over Andy, no matter how hard I tried to forget him. I love him, those feelings weren’t going to go away easily. My friend, Emily’s voice, rang loud in my mind.

Get drunk and screw a man on this trip.

Maybe it was something that I needed to forget about Andy, even for an hour.

My fingers tapped against the wood of the bar while I waited for my drink that I hadn’t noticed the body that snaked up behind me.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I looked over my shoulder to the stranger and couldn’t help the way my heartbeat when I saw how attractive he was.

“Already have one,” I smiled while bringing the drink to my lips.

“Damn. Maybe the next one?” His bright smile warmed my insides.

For the first time in a long time, I felt myself swooning over a man that wasn’t Andy and I dove right into it.

“If you plan on sticking around, I may take you up on that offer.”

“Devon,” the man extended his hand.

“Y/N,” I placed my hand in his and let it linger for a few moments before pulling away. “Did you want to join me?”

I nodded towards my chairs and he agreed, leading towards them with a small hand on my exposed lower back. We were comfortable, letting the small talk flow between us. I learned that he’s from Seattle but here for his friend's bachelor party.

“Shouldn’t you be at a strip club or something?” I joked.

Devon shrugged. “Not really my scene. I’d rather hang out with a beautiful girl I found on the beach.”

Heat spread through my cheeks and not from the sun.

“Well, I’m glad you’re fine spending the afternoon with me.”

Devon leaned closer towards me, face meters from my own, and I felt my heart jump into my throat with nerves.

“What about dinner?” He questioned, rolling a tongue over his bottom lip.

I raised a brow. “Do you think I would accept a date from a man I just met thirty minutes ago?”

He leaned back while shrugging his shoulders. “I figured dinner would be a great way for us to get to know each other more.”

There was a burning gaze at the back of my head and reluctantly, I peeked over my shoulder and saw what I already knew. Andy was watching me with a stiff body and when our gazes met, he shook his head.

I didn’t let him dictate my choices anymore. We weren’t together and he had a wife to please. I, on the other hand, needed someone to please me and if that was Devon then so be it.

“I’ll meet you at the resort restaurant around eight?” I asked Devon.

He nodded with another heart flipping smile. “See you then, doll.”

Before leaving me, he placed a small kiss on the back of my hand.

I sat there in a puddled mess and the simple interaction that I almost didn’t hear the ding from my phone.

Are you really going out with him tonight?

My eyes rolled at the incoming text from Andy.

It doesn’t concern you.

I couldn’t even set my phone down before another text from him came through.

I don’t like the way his hand was on rouching you when you two were talking.

Gnawing on my lip, I quickly glanced over to Andy knowing that when our gaze locked, I would regret it.

He stared at me with a tight jaw, hand on his face, and with the darkness that overtook his eyes, I felt my core heat up. There was something about Andy being so possessive like this that turned me on. It was wrong, especially with Laurie sitting next to him oblivious to the stare we were sharing.

I could feel the darkness of his eye gaze over every inch of my exposed skin while a flash image of the last time we had kissed on his kitchen counter came to mind. A small smirk of victory spread to his lips when he watched me squirm underneath his gaze.

The lust encased gaze we were sharing was cut in half when Laurie, who noticed us finally, pulled Andy down for a heated kiss. That was all I needed to snap back into reality and send him another text.

You seem to have your hands full. Don’t wait for me.

Our rooms were right next to each other so I knew that he would be waiting up on the shared deck for me to come back after my date. So I made sure that he knew exactly what he could have had if he didn’t continue to lie to me or if he had chosen me the first time.

#guilt andy barber #andy barber #andy barber x y/n #andy barber imagine #chris evans characters #andy barber smut #andy barber x you #cevans #andy barber and reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber and yn #andy barber reader insert #andy barber fanfiction

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Positions

Summary: Andy wanted your trust.

Pairings: Andy Barber x Black!Reader

Warnings: minors dni, smut, swearing, Daddy kink, rough sex, degradation, dirty talk, verbal degradation

(A/N: yay my first non request in awhile. Something I hadn’t been able to work on for a long time so if it seems a little disjointed that’s why. But I love it 🥺. Like follow Reblog 💜 ✌🏾)

»»——————————-　♡　—————-————-««

“Nice doing business with you,” Andy said, standing up to hold out his hand.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help yourself as you smiled. After giving you a handshake like you were a client, he chuckled and pulled you in for a hug. Then kissed your forehead before finally moving to your lips. God it was a good thing he’d gotten a private dining room.

Tonight had been a big night. The two of you had been dating for a few months now. Starting out as neighbors when he’d moved in next door after his divorce. What started out as a friendly plate of freshly baked cookies to welcome him turned into him helping you carry your shopping bags into your apartment. Which was followed by two of you ending up on the same jogging path to grabbing breakfast together. Then beers, then dinner, then movie nights to him finally kissing you.

At some point sex started to become a constant topic of conversation. Of him talking about how he’d tried to ask his ex wife to explore more, but every time he’d chicken out. Then when the feelings went away it didn’t feel right to ask. Like if he did he’d deserve a slap on the face.

Then you’d ended up giving him the finest glimpse into what kind of stuff you were into. How you’d been judged in the past by people so you were a little shy about opening up. But that you felt like your secret was safe with him. You’d even whispered it in his ear like someone else could hear him.

Fuck was he dying to touch you. You were all close on your knees. Tits pressing into him. If he’d turned his head just a little he would have gotten face full of them. You were wearing these thigh socks. It was cold, but you apparently didn’t like sleeping in pants so that was your compromise. Thank god for that.

It became kind of a thing you did. He’d open up about the side he’d been trying to explore and you told him the same. Always whispering it in his ears. Until he finally kissed you. He doesn’t know how he waited so long to do it.

He pulled you on his lap so he could kiss you feverishly. Then you tugged at the bottom of his white t-shirt which told him everything about where this was headed. Fuck why hadn’t he done it sooner.

He carried you to your bedroom before laying you down. Fuck he didn’t let up. Just kept pounding into you and you couldn’t help yourself as you cried out and moaned. Said his name over and over again. While he whispered in your ear this time. Saying exactly the things you’d told him you liked.

Didn’t even care that he hadn’t worn a condom. The thought never even crossing his mind. You’d just felt so good as he fucked you. Beside he knew you were on birth control. Even then he wasn’t sure if he cared.

After you came all over his cock once again, he finally exploded inside of you. Making sure to get it nice and deep as if he was trying to impregnate you on purpose. Maybe a tiny little bit of him hoping he caught you when your birth control was failing or something.

After you rolled onto your side. He’d wrapped his arms around you, repeatedly kissing your cheek as you were coming down. Asking you if you needed anything.

You just yawned and turned to snuggle into him. He didn’t stop pressing kiss after kiss into anywhere his lips could reach. Making you giggle a little before you finally kissed him back which is what led to part two.

The next morning you’d woken up before him where he found you in the kitchen making pancakes. He kissed your face over and over as you giggled before he helped you finish.

Since then most mornings were spent like this. Alternating between his place and yours. Yet he noticed something every time. Through all that talking he’d picked up on every kink you had. What made you tick. He’d found out just how to work you up to the point where it was almost too easy. God he was obsessed with it.

But, he’d also noticed was that you were holding back. You hadn’t called him Daddy once. Didn’t let him tie you up. Never even asked for it. So of course he was going to bring it up one day.

“Well,” you’d started, “I guess it’s because I feel like whenever I open up about it...” you trailed off, sighing as you shrugged, “I feel like I end up getting used.”

Andy sighed and pursed his lips. “Aw, Babe...” he sighed before kissing your temple. “You know I’d never do that.”

You shrugged. “You say that now.”

“I won’t. We’re three months in, haven’t I been good to you?” He asked.

“Yeah, but that’s not that long.”

He sighed. He didn’t wanna argue. He wanted you to trust him. Wanted to prove that it wasn’t about the sex. Well, completely. “Okay,” he started, “how about we,” then bit his lip as he thought, his head going to the side, “how about we set a time. It’s three months down. Maybe,” he shrugged,” three more?”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes playfully. “What are we gonna sign contracts?” You asked with a giggle.

“I mean, we could! That’s a great idea!” He laughed. “I can draft one up.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to be my daddy so bad,” you said not being able to wipe the smile off your face.

He sighed before kissing your cheek. “Well, yeah I wanna be your daddy, but I also want you to be comfortable around me,” he replied.

You peeked up at him through your lashes. You knew he was right. Andy knew you wanted that. With a dramatic sigh, you casted your eyes to the side. “I mean. True.”

He pulled you in. Wrapping his arms snugly around your waist. “Hey, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Then he lifted your chin up with his fingers. “We can go at your pace. Or not even do it at all. I just thought-“

“No,” you interrupted him. “You’re totally right. I kinda like the idea of a contract.”

“Yeah?” He asked a grin spreading on his face. “Okay. I can draft it in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure to talk it over with my lawyer,” you teased.

He kissed your cheek. “You’re already my favorite client,” he said before kissing your nose next.

You signed it over drinks then next day. The both of you sitting on the couch as you ‘negotiated’. With anyone else you would have felt silly, but with him you were laughing so much it made your stomach hurt.

Then you made out. Which was interrupted when his son called. Then you sipped on your wine as you curled into him.

He’d held up his end up of the bargain. You’d been a very willing participant. Happily taken part trust exercises as the both of you called them. Like the time you tested how he’d respond to your nonverbal safe word by as he fucked your face. Which he is as quick to ask you if you were okay only to be met by you giggling and smiling and telling him he passed your test. Which only made him chuckle before going back into it.

Clearly it had all paid off because now you were making out on the couch after dinner. Barely able to wait as he pushed your dress passed your waist. “Daddy,” you moaned.

Fuck it was like music to his ears. “That’s my girl,” he groaned, standing up with you in his arms. Fuck he needed you so damn bad. Making sure to get you undressed on the way to his bedroom. Leaving a trail of your clothes and his. Stopping to kiss you along the way. “Gonna finally let me take care of you right?” He asked as he was finally able to lay you down.

“Please,” you whimpered. Suddenly realizing just how badly you needed him. Fuck you should have just let him do this sooner. Andy Barber was clearly a trustworthy man. You don’t know why you were tripping so hard in the first place. He was obviously daddy material from the moment you met him.

He licked his lips as he put his forehead against yours. “Yeah?” He asked. “What do you want?" Then he grabbed your cheek when you tried to look away. Feeling intimated by his bedroom eyes.

Before you could answer, his hand got real close to your pussy. Thumb pressing into your clit making your eyebrow raising as he started rubbing that spot he knew was just right. Making you squeak out, “You.”

He chuckled. The noise vibrating deep in his chest. You looked so fucking cute laying there. All spread out. Eyes begging for him to make his next move. “Don’t play stupid with me.”

Your pussy had gotten so wet. Dripping down onto the sheets. He just got you like that. Almost like you never had a choice and he’d barely even done anything. The noise that fell from your lips was almost pornographic.

Then he shifted so he could replace it with the tip of his hard cock. Flicking at it. Not taking his eyes off of you as he angled himself at your entrance. Covering it in your wetness. Wishing he would stop teasing you because your pussy was aching so bad for him.

“I want you to be my daddy,” you whimpered.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he said before finally putting you out of your misery and sliding into you. Going about half way. Giving you a little time to adjust. Pussy tightening around him already.

His thickness feeling a little intrusive already in your pussy. You gasped. He kissed the corner of your mouth. Rocking into you slowly. Fuck it felt like your pussy was just begging him to go deeper.

Nose to yours as he inched in a little more. It made your breath hitch in your throat. Instead of going in deeper he pulled out to where his tip was the only thing in you again.

“Daddy,” you mewled. “Please. I need you so bad.”

“Tell daddy what you want, Baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You looked up at him with big watery eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked going back in half way. “How you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Like he owns it,” you whined.

“Aw, Baby,” he cooed before leaning down to kiss you. Taking the time to finally go in the rest of the way making you pull away to gasp.

“Fuck!”

“You want me to fuck your pussy like I own it,” he asked once again going to where only the tip was in before sliding in home.

You cried out. “Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“I can do that,” he cooed before kissing the side of your head. “I can do that, Baby.”

“I wanna be your slut.” You sniffled.

“I know.” He whispered still fucking into you nice and slowly. “You been my slut.”

“Please, Daddy,” you whimpered.

He wrapped his hand around your neck as he pretty much shoved himself into you that time then went back to square one with only the tip. “Yeah? You think you can take my dick?”

“I can,” you promised.

Ah fuck he couldn’t tease you anymore. Your eyes shutting tight as he pushed into you. Thick cock feeling like it was splitting you open until he bottomed out. Giving you a minute to get used to his intrusion before capturing your lips in his.

You moaned into his mouth when he finally started to move. Hands going to his back so you could dig your nails into him. Crying out from how deep he was going.

It wasn’t to say he was being gentle, but he was giving you a moment to feel him without completely overwhelming you yet. It was more like a calm before the storm as he peppered your face in kisses and whispered, “You take your daddy’s dick so well, pretty girl.”

Your walls tightening around him, one of your legs over his shoulder. It felt so good but you needed something more. “Daddy,” you whined. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said. “Don’t play stupid. Use your fucking words.”

You let out a cute little squeak. “More. Fuck me harder.”

Andy pulled out. Flipping you onto your stomach and not waiting for you to get on your hands and knees before slamming in. You let out a scream as he did as you asked. Not letting up as he his hips back and forth into you.

“Yes!” You cried into the pillow.

“Yeah? What you want? Needed to get fucked like a whore,” he practically growled before smacking your ass. It was too much and somehow not enough. You wanted it all. Fuck your wanted to be his forever and ever. He felt so damn good.

You worked back against him. Finally feeling like everything you’d ever craved from a man was being fulfilled only in such a small amount of time. If any man deserved to be your Daddy it was Andy fucking Barber.

He’d proved it from the moment you met. Just the little things he I’ll did. Just how much he cared. You owed him your pussy for making him wait so long.

“That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock,” he groaned watching your ass move back and forth onto him. Slapping against his pelvis every time.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you chanted with your face still in the pillow. He chuckled seeing you so desperate. You were so damn cute. Even when you were taking his cock. “I’m gonna cum!”

He grabbed your hand twisting it behind your back so he could really start driving into you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as your boyfriend went exactly like you needed making you cum all over his thick cock.

“Fuck me. Do what you want I don’t care.” You’d officially been all fucked out and Andy had been waiting for this moment. For you to finally and fully submit to him in the way he knew you’d been too afraid to ask for before.

He grabbed your hair laughing at how far gone you were. “That’s my good girl. Gonna let me use this slutty pussy to get off.”

“Please don’t stop. Please.” You begged.

“Daddy’s not stopping until you can’t take anymore,” he replied. “You’ll be begging me to stop.”

You came again. Pussy clamping around thick cock again. Screaming daddy. Fuck he loved you like this. Using your body. Calling you names. Fuck. It was addicting.

Making you cum over and over because he wasn’t satisfied until tears were streaming down your face. Then he just made you do again because he wanted you to do it one more time as he sought out his own.

He’d wanted you back on your back for this. Wanted you to look him in the eyes as he pumped in and out of you. “Gonna cum in you, Baby. Gonna take my cum like a good fucking whore?”

“Uh huh,” you breathed because he’d officially broken you by now. “I’m daddy’s slut.”

Fuck that did it.

He doesn’t think he’d ever finished that hard. Body tightening up as he finally came deep inside of you. Making sure to get as far as he could before what felt like a never ending stream let go.

Andy was breathing hard as he laid down on top of you. Putting his head between your tits. Breathing hard, chests heaving.

He wrapped his arms around your waist. You threaded your hands through his hair. The both of you too blissed out to move. He hadn’t even fully pulled out yet.

He loved being so close to you like this after sex. You always said you loved his warmth. Then he’d roll over to pull you into him instead. Resting your head on his shoulder.

Andy kissed the top of your head. Still trying to catch your breaths. Just getting so close. Just like you needed to be.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you mumbled back despite being positively cock drunk.

“You okay? I wasn’t too rough?”

You shook your head. “It was perfect.”

“Glad you thought so,” he said. “Just give me twenty minutes. I gotta tie you up.”

#andy barber smut #chris evans smut #andy barber x black!reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader

[dbnightingale24]

You’re My Drug (That’s The Problem)

Andy Barber ~ One Shot

~~

Honestly, I don’t even know what is wrong with me. No one asked for this and there’s no reason for this to be so long. My mind kinda just went to home wrecker hoe central, and now you have this. I’m so sorry, but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: SMUT, so much smut, cheating, depression, heartbreak, swearing, mentions of alcohol, abuse, angst, just A LOT of stuff, 18+, MINORS DNI!!!

Word Count: 10,210 (I honestly don’t know why I’m like this)

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter:

That’s All - Genesis

Sweetest Taboo - Sade

If Your Girl Only Knew - Aaliyah

One Last Time - Ariana Grande

I do not consent to have any of my works/stories posted anywhere.

~~

Standing in Andy Barber’s living room, you try to remember when it all started, almost two years ago. He was never supposed to be anything other than a silly school girl crush and a late-night drunken fantasy. He was dating your favorite professor (who had basically acted as your mother when your own was too fucked up), and was so in love with him. Truly and completely. You still remember when she introduced you to him.

“Y/N! This is Professor Andy Barber!” Profession Daniels (Aunt Michelle is what you affectionately called her) beamed, walking over with her arm linked to the gorgeous and bearded professor.

“I know who he is,” you chuckled, holding your hand out to shake his.

Everyone on campus knew who Professor Barber was. Before he came to the university, he was a big time DA, and he was damn good at his job. After his divorce, he decided it was time for a change of scenery. So, he quit his job, packed up his things, and decided that NYC would be a good place to start over.

Every woman on campus was painfully aware of his presence because of his devilish good looks. It’s not like he strut about the campus or anything, it was just impossible not to notice. His beard was always full and trimmed perfectly, his voice was smoother than silk, his smile was infectious, and his body. Good God that was sculpted by God and the Devil. Such a gorgeous man but in a way that made all of them wickedly desperate for him.

The man had every reason to be a whore, but outside of class, he barely said two words to anyone. He came in, did what he needed to do, and went home. In fact, it’s still a mystery how Aunt Michelle got her hands on him, but never questioned it. She was happy and that’s all that you cared about. That really had been all you wanted.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Andy smiled at you, taking your hand and shaking it in a firm but gentle way. “I’ve heard so much about you, so it’s nice to finally put a face to a name.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel about that after dinner! Why she chose to bring you out on ‘Whining Wednesday’ I have no clue, but if you’re still happy with her after all is said and done, I’ll approve of you,” you laughed while Professor Daniels shook her head.

“We’re not that bad!”

“We’re way worse, I know,” you teased. “We should get going before our booth is gone. I refuse to break tradition when we have a guest!”

‘Whining Wednesday’ was something started by both you and Professor Daniels to blow off some steam. She would go off about her worst students (only naming names sometimes), her workload, coworkers that drove her crazy (naming all names) and hating the pay cuts that seemed to be happening more often. You vented about the school workload, ridiculous essays, classmates that wouldn’t shut up when you were in your dorm at 2am trying to study, your mother, and your shitty on and off again boyfriend, Shawn. Also, you both did this while consuming food (mainly pizza) and drinks.

That Wednesday had been no different.

“Professor Cameron loves you!” your Aunt Michelle laughed as she finished her second Shirley Temple.

“Well then, can you tell him to ease up on my work load? Damn, I do have a job and other classes. I don’t even think I’m gonna pass this semester.”

“You’ve been saying that for two years and you do amazing each time, I’m sure this semester will be no different,” she shrugged, as the waiter dropped off another round of drinks and a large pizza pie with extra cheese.

“Eh, he is kind of a hard-ass,” Andy shrugged, grabbing a slice, as both you and Aunt Michelle gasped. “What?”

“You contributed!” you beamed, causing Andy to laugh, as you took a sip of your Jack and Coke.

“Professor Cameron isn’t a hard-ass, he just doesn’t like Andy,” Aunt Michelle laughed, grabbing her own slice.

“What did I ever do to him?”

“Every woman on campus loves you,” she scoffed “the guys at the University are split down the middle when it comes to you. Half of them love you and the other half wish you’d go back to Boston,” she smirked.

“How did I not know this?” Andy questioned in slight disbelief.

“You never hang around longer than you have to!” Aunt Michelle laughed.

“Don’t worry, the male students feels the same. Shawn complains about you all the time.”

“Shawn Toole? He doesn’t like me because I hold him accountable when he slacks off in my class,” Andy huffed.

“Yeah, he has a tendency to slack off about a lot of things,” you sighed, reaching for your drink “don’t take it personal.”

“Why are you back with him this time?” Aunt Michelle scowled.

“Why do I always take him back? Convenience, boredom, utter and sheer stupidity. I’d rather put myself through bullshit with him than be by myself.”

“You can do so much better!”

“Can I though? Like, lets really think about that one.”

“Y/N, you know you can.”

“It’s human nature. Why do we continue to drink when we know we’ve reached our limit? Why do junkies continue to do drugs even know they know it’s killing them? Why do people play extreme sports even know they know that every time they play it could be their last? Because we all live for the high. No matter how bad it can get, the high is always worth it. No matter how short lived it is. We’re all wired to self destruct in some way, some just find a way to last longer than others,” you shrugged before taking a bite of your pizza.

“Well shit, do you wanna teach my Psychology class tomorrow?” Aunt Michelle chuckled slightly.

“Fuck no, cause then I have to deal with all of the things that are wrong with me,” you laughed.

“For as long as I’ve been doing this, I’ve never thought about it that way,” Andy said after a beat. “You make an extremely good point.”

“See? I told you she was bright as hell!” Aunt Michelle gushed.

“Stop doing that,” you laughed, before downing the rest of your drink.

For the rest of that night, the conversation flowed easily and the three of you had an amazing time. Andy enjoyed the banter between you and Professor Daniels, and you truly loved watching them together. They both seemed extremely happy and enamored with each other.

Then the end of the night came.

“I’ve got it,” you slurred slightly, grabbing the check before either of them could get their hands on it.

“Oh? Did you rob a bank recently?” Aunt Michelle mused, a little tipsy herself.

“Not yet, but my mom did send me some guilt money, so I can afford this and much more,” you chuckled humorlessly.

“What happened this time?”

“She got drunk at my grandmother’s and made a complete twat out of herself. Decided that was the best time to tell me how I’m not doing enough and I’m not enough. Once again blaming me for her most recent boyfriend leaving, completely ignoring the fact that she’s the issue. Ya know, the usual” you shrugged, putting your debit card in the check holder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because it’s tiring always being upset about something. It’s tiring explaining, again, that someone I love and care about more than anything in the world treats me like trash. We’ve been having this talk since you found me crying in the library.”

“Y/N-”

“Stop, I’m really okay. She called me crying the next day and just kept apologizing.”

“What did you say?”

“I just told her to save it cause we have that huge family Gala coming up next weekend and it would save her time to just apologize for everything at once. Hence the reason I have all this money to burn,” you smiled as the waiter came over to grab the check.

“We can talk about it more tomorrow, if you want, during lunch.”

“Can’t do lunch tomorrow, dear old Dad is coming to visit.”

“What? Why?”

“Probably to tell me about his new engagement.”

“Didn’t he just get married?”

“Yeah, but she reached her age limit. I honestly don’t think my dad has stayed with any woman, besides my mother, past the age of 28. He meets em at 20, marries them by 22, divorces them between the ages of 25 and 28. She met this one at 26, so I knew she’d be packing as soon as she unpacked.”

“Your family is stressful,” Aunt Michelle sighed.

“I’m a product of chaos,” you smiled sarcastically, as the waiter came back with your debit card.

After giving in and letting Andy and Professor Daniels cover the tip, they both offered to get you home, seeing as it was late and it was a particularly cold night for early October, but you told them you’d be fine to walk the few short blocks.

“Are you sure? It’s no big deal, I don’t feel right letting you walk alone this late,” Andy sighed.

“I’m really okay, Professor Barber,” you smiled at him “thank you though, and thanks for coming out! I’m glad you had fun, you’re welcome to ‘whining Wednesdays’ whenever you want,” you giggled before giving Michelle a hug “as for you, I love you and I’ll see you at some point tomorrow, Profess-”

“We’re not at school. Call me Professor Daniels and I’ll scream,” she laughed, wrapping you in a tight hug. “Please let me know when you get home.”

“I will, I promise. Go home and have fun like the young lovers you are. Have sex or something,” you and she playfully swatted your arm. “Oh! Swing by my job tomorrow night! We can talk then!”

“Sounds good,” she smiled at you.

As you began walking in the other direction, Andy called after you “where do you work?”

“Um that Dive Bar a few block’s over! Tabitha’s!” you smiled, before resuming your walk home.

The next day, when walking across campus with your dad to get lunch, you ran into Andy.

“Oh, good afternoon Professor Barber,” you smiled at him.

“Y/N,” he nodded “I take it this is your father.”

“Uh yeah. Dad, this is Professor Barber, Professor Barber, my dad” you smiled anxiously.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Barber,” your father smiled, taking Andy’s hand in his giving it a firm shake. “You teach my daughter?”

“No, I’m good friends with Professor Daniels though, and she introduced me.”

‘That’s weird,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Good friend? Well, it’s not like he knows my dad at all, and Professor Barber is a private man. Makes sense.’

“Professor Daniels is an amazing woman. I don’t know what we’d do without her looking after my little flower” he smiled at Andy and you cringed inwardly. You’d started hating that nickname after you heard him call one of his young brides the same thing.

“Well, we’ve gotta get going. Don’t wanna be late for lunch,” you smiled, wanting to end the awkward moment as quickly possible.

“You have a really great daughter,” Andy said before you and your father started walking away. “Make sure you don’t lose sight of that.”

Your father gave you a look as Andy turned and walked and you just responded with a shrug, because you genuinely had no idea what had just happened.

When Professor Daniels came to see you at work later that night, she brought Andy with her. They stayed until closing and Andy insisted on driving you home again. You were so tired that you it wasn’t hard to convince you. Professor Daniels gave directions while you tried to force yourself to stay awake in the backseat. When you finally got to your building, Andy decided to walk you to your room, despite you telling him it’s not a big deal.

You two made small talk on the way up, which was his way of trying to help you stay awake.

“How was lunch with your dad?” Andy asked as the elevator finally reached your floor.

“Oh...it was okay. He did wanna tell me about his engagement, but he also wanted to bitch about my mom. He did occasionally ask about my classes and how they were going, so I guess that was nice,” you shrugged as you finally reached your apartment.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that...you come across as just so...I know what its like to have unstable parents,” he sighed, looking down at his feet.

You knew he was referring to his father and it made your heart ache. “Hey,” you smiled, placing hand gently on his arm “I’m alright. I mean, it’s no walk in the park, but I manage. It’s nowhere near as bad as it was, Professor Barber,” you finished softly.

“Please, call me Andy,” he chuckled. “Well, in case you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me. I know you talk to Michelle about everything, but if you ever wanna talk to someone who can relate, you know where to find me,” he smiled at you.

Maybe it was because you were so tired or because of how naive you were, but you didn’t suspect a thing when he said that. Though you were more sure than ever now, that was when things shifted. Had it really happened so quickly?

Maybe it was when you started seeing him more often around campus and he always offered to walk you to your classes, or when he started showing up more at your your job (without Professor Daniels) and you two would talk like you had known each other for years. Maybe it was when he chose to sit between you and Professor Daniels when you all went to college football games together and sometimes he would brush his leg against yours in the most innocent way, but his eyes would linger a little bit longer than they should have. Maybe when you two kept running into each other early in the morning at the school pool? Sometimes swimming together or getting caught up in conversations about nothing in particular.

But how could it have been those things? It was all innocent because he and Professor Daniels were like school children in love. No, all of those things were innocent and coincidental. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself, which is probably what led to the incident that took place two days before that Thanksgiving break.

“Hello?” Aunt Michelle answered groggily, finally silencing her annoying ring tone.

“Fuck! Of course you’re sleeping! I’m so sorry, I’ll just-”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” she said frantically, hearing your sobs and panicked voice.

“It’s not-”

“Y/N, please tell me what’s going on...I don’t know what’s wrong, Andy!” she snapped at him angrily.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so sorry! I ruined-”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Just tell me where you are and we’ll come and get you,” she pleaded, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Shawn took me to this party at 13th Step and-”

“Open the fucking door, Y/N!” Shawn yelled from the other side of the bathroom door, banging on it as if he were trying to break it down.

“Oh my God, okay. Where are you?”

“I’m in the bathroom. I don’t know...his friends are trying to calm him down, but he’s in a rage.”

“We’ll be right there. Do not leave that bathroom unless you have to, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you sobbed out, wincing as as Shawn continued to pound harder on the door.

They were at your rescue in 10 minutes. While Professor Daniels came to collect you from the bathroom, Andy stayed in the bar area, doing his best to calm the situation down.

“Look at you! You’re so pathetic! Little slut, we’re fucking done! Don’t even-”

“Fucking watch it-” Andy growled, doing his best to keep his cool in front of both you and Professor Daniels.

“Or what? You’ll fucking fail me? You think I haven’t heard about you two? How you two are always together? Football games and shit?”

“It’s the three of us, Toole. Watch it,” Andy warned again through gritted teeth.

“Fuck you, Barber. Couldn’t make your marriage work, so you steal my girl? Or is that just what you do?” Shawn shouted at you. “You fuck professors to-”

Shawn was cut off by Andy’s right fist connecting with his jaw. “I told you to fucking watch it!” Andy yelled.

“Andy, stop!” Aunt Michelle yelled, running from you to Andy, trying to stop him from hitting Shawn again.

“You put your fucking hands on her?! Your own fucking girlfriend?!” Andy yelled, connecting another hit.

“Professor Barber, please!” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, just wanting the night to end.

The sound of your voice made Andy compose himself and slowly get himself together. “Touch her again and you’ll end up with way worse than this, understand me?”

Shawn was silent.

“I asked if you understand me?!” Andy asked again, kicking Shawn in the stomach.

“Fine! Yes! Okay!” Shawn howled in pain, as the cops finally showed up.

“Nothing to see here, it’s taken care of,” Andy muttered before storming out of the bar.

That night, you kept telling Professor Daniels that nothing happened between you and Andy, and you didn’t know why Shawn had snapped, cause at that point, nothing had happened.

“Oh honey, I believe you! Please don’t worry about it,” she cooed, trying to calm you down as you all made your way back her place.

“I just...I’m so-”

“Don’t you dare apologize because he’s unhinged! You’re okay now, please don’t worry. You’re safe now,” she cooed as Andy pulled up to her place.

She had the spare room made up almost instantly and you felt guilty staying there. No, you hadn’t done anything with Andy, but still. If other people were noticing and saying things to Shawn, maybe you were in the wrong.

That night, they fought like a married couple on the brink of divorce.

“You can’t just fly off the handle like that, Andy!”

“Did you not see her busted lip?! What the hell was I supposed to do?!”

“You don’t think I wanted to attack him?! Do you know how much I love her?! She’s practically family to me! You’re a professor, Andy! Do you understand that she saved your ass tonight? If she hadn’t threatened him with pressing charges, he would’ve pressed charges against you! You can’t just-”

“I know, okay?! I know! I just...that’s not right! No matter how angry you are, you don’t put your hands on a woman! Did you see how scared she was?! I just...” Andy sighed “I need to go for a walk,” he all but muttered before storming out.

Professor Daniels kept watch over you almost all night. Checking the room almost every hour, until she finally succumbed to sleep. When Andy came back, he sat at the foot of the guest bed, rubbing your feet softly and quietly apologizing profusely. He had no idea that you were still awake and it broke your heart. However, it also made you feel cared for.

Men in your life didn’t defend you, fight for you, or get angry for you. Let alone get angry over you. Yes, Professor Daniels had been looking out for you since you got there, but she wasn’t him. Andy filled you with something you weren’t quite sure of and it made you feel things you shouldn’t, which is why you decided you couldn’t see him anymore.

You did your absolute best to avoid him, no matter the cost. You stopped doing ‘whining Wednesdays’ (telling Professor Daniels that you picked up more shifts at work), you cut lunches short so you could avoid bumping into him when you made your way back to class, and hiding in the back when he would show up during your shift at work. Anything to keep from seeing him. Your relationship going to shit was one thing, but the one person who saved you from the hell that was your life? You would do anything to keep her safe and happy.

The plan worked great until you fell asleep in the library during Winter break.

“Y/N?” Andy asked, shaking you softly.

“Hm? What? Oh shit!” you exclaimed once you saw Andy’s face. “I didn’t mean to...what time is it?”

“It’s almost 12am,” he chuckled at your slightly frightened state.

“Fuck, thanks for waking me,” you smiled weakly at him, gathering your notes and books quickly.

“You should stay at my place,” he suggested nonchalantly, but it was enough to get your anxiety kicking.

“No, I’m not too far-”

“I don’t want you going anywhere this late alone and I have a feeling that you’ll put up a fight if I offer to take you home,” he smirked.

“I don’t want-”

“It’s Winter Break, sweetheart. He’s not here, Michelle isn’t here, there’s almost no one here. It’s just late and I don’t want you walking home this late. Help me put my mind at ease and just stay at my place tonight,” he offered again with a sigh.

He was right. With all of the anxiety and guilt you had been feeling with everything since what happened with Shawn, you were opposed to spending any time with him, let alone staying at his place. However, it was late and you did have fears about walking home that late. It was easily a 15 minute walk, but it was also the City.

So, you made the mistake of agreeing to stay at Andy’s place.

“The spare room is down the hall to the right and there should be sweats in there. Michelle has kind of made a habit of keeping clothes in there on the off chance she stays over,” he smiled softly. “She says I have too many things in my drawer so she just uses the one in the spare room,” he softly chuckled once he saw the confused look on your face.

At then mention of Michelle’s name, you gather your thoughts quickly. It didn’t matter that you had gotten off to the thought of you fucking him senseless the night before, because it could never happen. “I can stay in my-”

“Y/N, it’s Winter break. Please relax. Change into something that’s more comfortable and go to sleep,” he smiled before going into his kitchen and grabbing a glass.

“Professor-”

“Andy,” he gently corrected.

“Andy,” you smiled “I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. I’ll do my best to not disturb your routine.”

“Are you always this anxious?”

“Yes,” you answered quickly and honestly, and his response was a deep and hearty laugh. You could’ve listen to him laugh all night.

“Please don’t worry. You can use whatever you want, eat whatever you want, and lay wherever you want. Just relax, okay?” he smiled before taking out a second glass. “You want a drink?”

“No no, I’ll probably just sleep,” you smiled. “Thank you...again,” you smiled before making your way to the spare bedroom.

The room was beautiful but you could tell it had rarely been slept in. The bed was spacious and the pillows extremely comfortable. You took a deep breath and tried to get yourself to relax. When you opened the drawer, you saw Professor Daniel’s sweats, tank tops, and intimate wear.

‘You’re not doing anything wrong. Just text her before you fall asleep,’ you mentally told yourself, trying to calm the voice in your head.

You changed into a pair of her sweats before settling into the bed and sending her a text explaining what happened. Her response came a few a moments later simply saying “Thank you! I know you’re probably uncomfortable, but it’s just a night and he’s a total sweetheart. You’re safe there and I feel so much better knowing you’re there! Thanks for letting me know!”

You did your best to get comfortable so that you could fall asleep, but all of a sudden you were wide awake. It’s not like it wasn’t a comfortable mattress or there was anything wrong with the room, you just couldn’t get comfortable knowing he was was sharing the same space as you. You thought about getting a drink to calm your nerves, but you didn’t want to risk getting caught up in conversation with him.

When you heard the laugh track coming from the living room, you decided that maybe getting off wouldn’t be a bad idea. It did always leave you feeling sleepy and you could be quiet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but anything that could make you sleep faster so you could leave faster was ideal.

It wasn’t hard for you to get yourself worked up: you were in Andy’s apartment and had just heard his voice moments ago. It was only matter of seconds before your fingers found your clit, playing with it a little before slipping two inside yourself. Eyes clenched shut and his name softly escaping your lips, it didn’t take long for you to get yourself over the edge.

Taking deep breaths and giving yourself a little time to come down from your high, you felt yourself getting sleepy and a small smile came to your face. Slowly getting up, you decide to clean yourself up before finally getting some rest.

Had you known what was coming next, you would’ve stayed in bed.

“Profess...Andy, where’s your bathroom?” you asked shyly, standing right outside of the living room.

“Down the hall to your left,” he smiled at you.

You quickly clean yourself up and relieve yourself, before quickly and quietly making your way back to the spare bedroom.

“Would you mind sitting with me for a bit? Having a hard time falling asleep tonight,” Andy asked right before you closed the door.

“Is it because I’m here?” you ask, ready to get yourself a car service and go home. “I can leave, I’m so-”

“Please calm down,” he chucked, only putting you at ease a little. “I just have a lot on my mind and it would help to get some advice is all. I understand if you just wanna sleep, it looks like you’ve had a long day,” he smiled.

You argued with yourself before you came to the conclusion that an innocent conversation wouldn’t be so bad. “I can hang for a little bit,” you smile at him before taking a seat not too far from him on the sofa.

You talked about everything and nothing that night and at some point he talked you into having a drink with him.. He asked for your advice about personal issues with his wife and son, work, and getting used to his new life.

“I know you’re tired but I need your advice on one more thing,” he smiled as you finished the drink he poured you.

“I’ll do my best,” you smiled, turning your attention to him.

“I’ve done something and I...I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I can,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“It can’t be that bad, what happened?”

“I....you know what? Don’t worry about it. Get some sleep.”

“Andy, you can talk to me,” you smile sweetly, inching closer to him.

“I did this all wrong,” he sighed. “What would you do if you were in my position?”

“What position are you in?”

“I fell for someone when I first got to the university. We didn’t say a word to each other and I honestly don’t know if she even saw me, but she just caught me off guard. Her hair, how hard she was focusing on her studies, the smile that came to her face once she figured something out...I watched her longer than I should have. I went to Michelle about her, cause they seemed to get along well, but Michelle kinda fell for me in the process. I fell for her too. Please don’t get me wrong. Michelle is wonderful in every way possible and beautiful as hell, but she isn’t...she isn’t this person. This person is gorgeous, funny, witty, strong, a nervous wreck...so many things. I don’t know what to do,” he confessed softly.

You told yourself that the pang of jealousy you felt was for Aunt Michelle and the fact that she’d be getting her heart broken soon, but you knew it was because you desperately wanted to be the other person. What kind of person did that make you? A terrible one. “I mean, you definitely need to break up with Michelle and then tell this person how you feel. They both deserve to know,” you huff.

“It’s not that simple,” Andy shook his head.

“Of course it isn’t simple, but-”

“No,” he interrupted softly. “I’ll end up hurting both of them and I can’t...they deserve so much better than that. Better than me.”

“How would you hurt the other person?”

“Because how can I tell you that I’m in love with you and expect it to go over well when you call her your ‘Aunt’?” he asked, finally meeting your gaze with desperate eyes.

Your heart almost stopped. How could he be in love with you? “Andy-”

“I have tried so hard to ignore this,” he sighed. “The moment I saw you sitting alone in the library, I wanted to know everything about you. But you’re a fucking student. Even if you aren’t my student, you’re still a student. Then I just kept seeing you everywhere and most of the time you were with Michelle. I only wanted to pick her brain about you, I definitely didn’t expect it to turn into a relationship. Then, when you started to make yourself unavailable, I knew it was for the best. We were spending too much time together and even though it was innocent, we were tiptoeing a line. You did what I couldn’t do. I forced myself to be okay with it, cause it was for the best.”

“Andy, you can’t-”

“When I came by the spare bedroom tonight to check on you and I heard you...I finally felt confident that it wasn’t just me. You feel every thing I feel, but this is wrong. It’s so wrong, but I want you. I need you,” he finished, resting his hand on your thigh.

“Andy...we can’t...this isn’t...I can’t do this to her,” you almost sobbed. “She has done so much for me and has taken care of me...I could never-”

“I know and I hate myself for this, but I can’t deny it anymore,” he practically whispered, as his hands slowly made their way up to the hem of the sweats you were wearing. Aunt Michelle’s sweatpants.

“She loves you, Andy,” you said defiantly, trying your hardest to not give in to your traitorous desires.

“And I love you. I tried to fight this, but I can’t anymore. I can’t and I don’t want to. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop. You’ll never see me again. I’ll drive you home right now.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, cause this is...s-shit” you moan, feeling his finger softly trace up and down the thin material that was keeping him from making direct contact with your most sensitive nerve. “A-Andy, if we do this...we can’t take it back and we’ll both feel terrible. This is...it’s wrong.”

“I’ve been watching you for so long. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten off to the thought of you bouncing up and down my cock? Hearing you scream my name while I make you feel things you’ve never felt before? I know I’m a complete piece of shit for this, but I can’t ignore this. Not anymore,” he groaned, using a finger to push the material to the side before slipping two fingers in. “I can tell you need this too.”

“Andy,” you moaned, your hand traveling up his arm.

“That’s it baby, let me make you feel good like I know you’ve been dreaming of,” he sighed, using his free hand to pull down both the sweats and your panties and you kicked them off the rest of the way. “Such a perfect pussy,” he moaned “lets see if you taste as sweet as you are,” he all but muttered before moving in close and removing his fingers, only to replace them with his mouth.

“Shit!” you cried out, arching your back at the feel of him sucking and licking on your clit. You had never been eaten out before. You had only had one other boyfriend before Shawn and they both refused to do it even though they insisted upon you blow them before sex. “I just...oh my God!” you whimpered.

Andy hooked your leg over his shoulder and only let you hold on. He didn’t slow down when you gabbed a fist full of his hair and screamed obscenities when your first orgasm hit. He only gripped you tighter and sped up when you begged him to slow down, letting his hand trace up your body until it found one of your boobs and messaging your nipple between two fingers, sending you quickly into your second orgasm. When you told him that it was too much, he pushed two fingers into soaked folds and found that place deep inside you that you blossoming like a little flower for him.

“Never felt so good before, have you?” he asked sitting up and smirking at you in your blissed out state.

All you could do was shake your head ‘no’.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me tonight and cum on my cock?” he questioned, wrapping your legs around him.

“Andy, we can’t-”

“We’ve already gone this for, baby” he sighed, a flicker of shame in his eyes “why deny ourselves any further?”

“I can go now.”

“Do you want to?”

“Of course not,” you sighed, turning your head away from his overwhelming gaze.

“Don’t think about everything else right now, just focus on right now,” he demanded softly, taking your face in his hand and making you look at him.

You slowly nodded and sat up. Ignoring the last bit of fight left in you, you placed your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep and passionate kiss. “this is where I want to be,” you told him softly, giving into the feelings you had been harboring for over a year.

He carried you to his bedroom and laid you softly on the bed. You pushed out the thought that he had shared that bed with Aunt...Professor Daniels more times than you cared to know as Andy removed his shirt. It didn’t matter that you had seen him shirtless a handful of times, his beauty always caught you off guard.

“Take off your shirt, baby,” he commanded sliding his hand down his own sweats, taking himself in his hands and stroking his cock. “wanna see all of tthat gorgeous body.”

You wasted no time getting rid of your shirt, before getting on your knees and crawling towards the side of bed he was standing on. “Can I suck your cock?” You couldn’t believe yourself but you also couldn’t stop yourself.

“Your really want to?” he asked before pulling down his sweats and stepping out of them.

Neither of your boyfriends had come close to the size of Andy and you were starting to understand why Professor Daniels would come to work exhausted some days. “I’ve thought about it so much,” you confessed, feeling yourself get worked up again.

“Mmm,” Andy moaned, starting to stroking himself again “you can only suck it if you tell me what else you’ve fantasized about.”

“Professor Barber, please don’t make me,”

“Fuck,” he groaned, he loved hearing you call him that, “gotta tell me kitten, or I won’t let you touch me. Is that what you want?”

“No Professor,” you whined.

“Then tell me.”

You looked away, feeling too ashamed of yourself for being as desperate as you were. “I-”

“Look at me when you tell me, baby. Don’t be shy,” he cooed, using his free hand to cup your face and bring your attention back to him.

“I...I’ve thought about you fucking me on your desk, right after your last class...” you trailed off.

“I think you’ve thought about more than that,” he coaxed.

“Fucking me in my ass while I’m bent over doing my homework.”

“Oh? My little kitten likes anal?”

“I’ve never done it, but I want to try it with you. I want to try everything with you, Professor,” you moan, pressing your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure building up between your legs.

“You ever seen a cock this big, baby?”

“No, and I’m honestly a little nervous,” you confessed.

“Don’t you worry, kitten. I’m gonna make you feel so good, but you gotta tell me one more fantasy before I let you put your mouth on me,” he instructed. You tried to turn your head away, but he held it in place. “What did I say? Don’t be shy. Now tell me.”

“I...I’ve thought about keeping your cock warm with a vibrator shoved in my pussy, while you teach class. I would stay under your desk and blow you or just keeping it in mouth.”

“You want us to get caught?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind if people saw...I want people to watch you control me, so they know I’m yours. They can see but they can’t touch.”

“I didn’t know my good girl was so bad,” he smirked “you still wanna suck your professor’s cock?”

“Please!” you cried out, desperate for mouth to be on any part of him.

“Open wide, kitten,” he instructed, before shoving his cock in. “Oh fuck! Do you know how many times I’ve thought of you taking my cock in that pretty little mouth? You take it so well,” he grunted, doing his best to let you control the situation and not face fuck you.

Andy could only let you stay in control for so long. The moment you started gagging on him, he knew he was done for. “Lay down and open those pretty legs for me,” he breathed out, once he got you off of his cock. “Gonna fuck you so good, I’ll ruin you for ever other man.”

“Please destroy my pussy,” you whined, ignoring all the voices telling you to run away as fast as you could.

“Fuck!” Andy hissed, slowly pushing his way into you as you wrapped your arms around him and held on tight. “You’re so fucking tight! Gonna have to fuck this beautiful pussy a few times so you can used to me,” he huffed, bottoming out.

“Jesus Christ!” you cried, getting lost in the pleasurable pain that was him stretching you out.

“So perfect for me,” Andy grunted, slowly starting to move within you. “How are you so....fuck, this is better than anything I’ve ever imagined. I’ve been dreaming of this for so long...now you’re all mine!”

“Fuck, don’t stop! You feel so good!”

“Yeah? Shawn ever fill you up this much?”

“Never!” you whimpered, tightening your grip. “I don’t think I can...fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Give it to me, kitten,” he demanded, pounding harder and harder into your pussy. “Coat my cock with your sweet cum,” he whispered hotly against your ear, before licking and biting on it.

“Fuck! Andy!” you cried out, coming undone almost on command.

“I love you so much,” he moaned, clenching his eyes shut, trying to hold back his own release. “I’m gonna show you over and over again just how much I love you. You want that baby? You want me to fuck you senseless?”

“Fuck Andy,” you whined, clawing at his back “please do it! I wanna feel you cum deep inside my pussy! Show me how much you love me,” you pleaded, part of you in disbelief at the words leaving your mouth.

“Do you love me, baby?” he asked breathlessly, opening his eyes to meet your gaze.

You wanted to lie so bad but he was literally fucking the truth out of you. “So much, Andy. I don’t wanna fight it anymore! I...I don’t care if you ruin me for anyone else! I just....fuck Andy, just like that! I just want to love and feel you, only you!” you whimpered, before pulling him closer to you for a passionate and powerful kiss.

Andy fucked you into sunrise that night; only stopping to make you beg. When you woke up later that afternoon, he was still sound asleep. You quickly snuck out of the room and got dressed as quick as you could, trying your best to ignore the guilt you felt when you saw Professor Daniel’s sweatpants on the floor by the sofa. While you were on your way home, after you snuck out, she called you and asked you how your night went. You kept the facade up the entire call, pretending that you had gone to sleep almost instantly.

When you got back to your apartment, you broke down cried for hours. You showered and tried to scrub the previous night off of you, but you knew that you’d never be able to. That night would live in your memory forever.

Andy let you ignore him for two days before he showed up at your apartment and claimed you in your own little kitchen.

He spent the rest of Winter Break with you and you almost let yourself forget that you were a homewrecker. He truly didn’t want just sex from you. He took an interest in the shows you liked, made you dinner, took you out to different jazz clubs and nice restaurants, and indulged in your silly obsession with ‘Mad Libs’. It really felt like you two were a happy couple...until Winter Break was over.

Then Professor Daniels came back and you were forced to remember how terrible you truly were.

The sight of them together made you truly sick and angry. Angry mainly with yourself, because how could you have been so stupid? However, you were also angry with Professor Daniels for being with Andy, because he was yours. He made a habit of telling you that every time you two had sex that you both belong to one another. However, if that was the case, then why hadn’t he broken up with her?

This thought only made you more fed up with yourself, because you fell for it. You became one of the women you always made fun of. The type of woman your dad chased around and cheated on his young brides with.

“Fuck you, Andy!” you yelled, as he pleaded with you to just hear him out, as he followed you around your small apartment. “I don’t want to hear it! You parade her around in public and fuck me senseless when no one’s looking, right?! I’m the stupid little college side piece, right?! Jesus, you have me furious with the one person who gives a fuck about me!”

“I give-”

“Don’t! Don’t fucking tell me you give a shit about me when you have me going through this!”

“Y/N, please just listen to me,” he begged, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you yelled, turning around and slapping him hard across the face. “Get out!”

“Do it again,” Andy said lowly after a beat “slap me again.”

You slapped him again but harder, “I said to get out!”

“Do it again,” he growled.

*SLAP* “Get-” you were cut off by Andy’s lips crashing into yours.

He shoved you against the wall and kissed you again. “I almost went to jail for you Kitten, , and you’re gonna stand here and tell me I don’t care about you?” growled, pinning your hands above your head. “Those fucking diamonds around your neck aren’t proof that I love you?”

“I don’t care about the fucking diamonds!” you spat! “Love me only and stop making me a second choice!”

“I will figure it out! It’s not the right time and you know it,” he muttered against your neck,using one hand to force your pants and panties down before undoing his own pants. “You want to hurt her?”

“We’re already hurting her!” you snapped, hating how desperate your body was for him. “This is wrong and it needs to stop!” you yelled, fighting against him to no avail.

In one swift move, Andy used his free hand to force your legs around his waist before plunging into you. “We won’t stop this because we can’t stop it. I’m a selfish fuck and I’m not going to give you up. We will be together once I figure out how to do it and can hurt her as little as possible,” he grunted, each thrust coming harder and harder.

“Andy,” you moaned, arching your back to feel as much of him as possible “we can’t....fuck! This is...holy shit, this is wrong!”

“It’s not so wrong when I fuck you senseless in the back of the library is it?” he questioned as he shoved two fingers into to your tightest hole.

“Oh my God!” you mewled, leaning your head back against the wall.

“How about when I fuck you in the bathroom at your job, hmm? Or when I have you exploding all over my desk at work? Does it feel so bad then?”

“Shit!” you cried out. You hated how he made you feel so good and so terrible at the same time.

“Or how about last week, huh?”

“Don’t,” you moaned, finally making eye contact with him.

“When I fucked you right after she left. Making me tell you that your pussy is better than hers. Was it wrong then? Cause you were begging like a pretty little whore while you were bouncing up and down on my cock!” he grunted, feeling your walls clench around him as you tried to fight off your release. “Oh? You like that memory? Tell me which part you like the best: the part where I told you that this pussy was the best I’ve ever had, or the part where you were on your knees for me as soon as you locked the door? Maybe, it’s just the fact that she didn’t know I was there and had no clue that I had you calling me Daddy all day,” he taunted, feeling you clench around him again. “Oh, that’s it. You love it don’t you?”

“No,” you mewled, refusing to accept that you were that awful of a person.  

“Yes you do, don’t try to deny it while I’m inside you,” he grunted, finger fucking your ass faster. “You love that I can’t quit you and you can’t quit me. No matter how terrible you feel, you love the fact that I keep choosing you over her!”

“You clearly...shit! You don’t choose me! I’m still playing...playing second fiddle to her!”

“She plays second fiddle to you! Who do you think I’m thinking of when I fuck her? Do you know how close I’ve come to moaning your name when I’m inside her? Fuck, I can’t even get it up without thinking of you! Do you know how sick that makes me? I am constantly choosing you...fuck! I will make this right,” he grunted, as you came undone all over his cock, sending him off into his own earth shattering orgasm. He leaned his head against your chest and took a moment to catch his breath. “I promise you that I will make this right, I just...I just need time,” he panted.

That conversation had happened almost 8 months ago. You kept letting it slide, because he kept promising you that things would change. It didn’t matter how terrible you felt after sex or how loved you felt after every date, because he would choose you. He always promised he would choose you, so you waited and hung on to his every word.

You fooled yourself into thinking that every thing was fine until, Professor Daniels showed at your apartment in tears.

“I know he’s cheating, Y/N. I just know it! I’ve found panties that aren’t mine on more than one occasion, there were lipstick smears on his pillow last night, and he’s distant. He’s so fucking distant!”

“Just calm down, please,” you begged, grabbing tissues and ignoring the extreme guilt you were feeling. How could he have been so careless? So heartless? How could you be so heartless? “Have you talked to him about it?”

“He won’t talk to me! He just swears the underwear is mine and that I’m making something out of nothing! I know the kind of clothes I wear and I would never wear anything like that!” she sobbed before harshly blowing her nose. “It’s probably that little slut, Samantha. She sleeps with all of the professors,” she sniffed.

“Michelle, don’t do that! Why don’t you just leave him?”

“Because I love him, Y/N,” she sobbed, looking you in the eyes. “I love him so much and I just can’t walk away.”

And that’s how you wound up in Andy’s apartment. Waiting for him to get off the phone, you play with your hands and take a deep breath. Last night made you certain that whatever was going on between you and Andy needs to come to an end.

“Hey, I thought I wasn’t see you until later,” he smiles, walking in ready to kiss you, but you back away.

“We can’t do this anymore, Andy,” you say softly, looking towards your feet.

“Y/N-”

“No Andy,” you interrupt, taking a deep breath “she came over last night and cried to me for hours about how she knows you’re cheating on her and how much she loves you and can’t bring herself to walk away. How could you leave my underwear lying around? Not change the pillow covers? Christ Andy!”

“I figured she’d see it and hate me, leave, and you’d be in the clear,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted you to be in the clear,”

“Andy,” you sigh, blinking back tears “she should hate me. It’s the least of what I deserve. What we’ve been doing is so incredibly...I hate myself. What the fuck were we thinking?! What are we doing?! I was so stupid-”

“Y/N, don’t do this to yourself,” Andy interrupts. “I made you do this and-”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t try to shield me. You may be the older one, but we’re both adults,” you scoff. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. No, I fell in love with someone who was with someone else, someone who means the world to me, and I chose that over her. I was so desperate for everything you made me feel...your love, but I can’t be with you, Andy. Being with you means she’s out of my life for good. My happiness has to come at the expense of her broken heart? What kind of a monster does that make me?” you question, tears finally falling from your eyes.

“Please, we can figure this out-”

“Andy, there’s nothing to figure out! There’s no way I can have you both in my life and it’s my selfishness that that led to this. They’re so many times I could have and should have walked away, but I just...this would have been so much easier if it was just sex. I could have walked away months ago, but no. I love you and maybe I always have, but this...”

“Y/N, I already told you. I didn’t even mean for her and I to end up together!”

“But you did-”

“Only because it felt like the right thing! I thought I could be with her and all of this would go away! I’d be with someone my own age and would stop obsessing over you! Fuck, none of this was supposed to go this way!” Andy sighed, his own tears starting to spill over as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Andy...I can’t do this. I don’t deserve you and I sure as shit don’t deserve to have her in my life. This can’t go on anymore, Andy. We’ve done enough damage,” you sob quietly, as you come to terms with the decision yourself. “Thank you...for loving me, showing me what it’s like to be actually loved...I’m sorry,”

“Y/N, after some time-”

“I just don’t think I can take anymore of this,” a voice comes from the spare bedroom. The door opens to reveal a teary eyed Professor Daniels.

“Michelle,” you gasp, covering your mouth. “Michelle please...I-”

“Just...just tell me every thing, from the beginning,”

“I just-”

“Not from you,” she snaps coldly “from you,” she breathes as her attention turns to Andy.

He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair, again. “It’s only right, take a seat and I’ll tell you everything.”

~~

@whxre4cevans, @sweetflowerdreams, @itsbrittany425,

#Andy Barber #andy barber x you #andy barber fic #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x reader #Andy Barber Smut #One Shot #Fan fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #Defending Jacob #Defending Jacob One Shot #Defending Jacob Fanfic #Professor! Andy Barber #Professor Andy Barber #Professor Andy Barber x Y/N #professor andy barber x reader #Professor! Andy Barber x Y/N #Professor! Andy Barber x Reader #Professor! Andy Barber Smut #Professor Andy Barber smut

[dropsofletters]

avenue of tears

— summary: listening to the latest album of the living daydream that is the drummer jeon wonwoo isn’t quite the best idea when, supposedly, it’s written about an ex. missing him to bits, she decides to plug in her earphones, and get lost in the words written by him, for her, perfectly put together to describe what was once broken…but can now be healed.

— title: avenue of tears — pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader — genre: drummer!au ; podcast host!au ; friends to exes to strangers to lovers!au — type: fluff ; angst ; drama ; humor ; suggestive ; romance — word count: 19,796

For the first time in her life, she can say she is happy while having a sore-throat.

Well, there have been other good times in her life that have included such a symptom—the after-effects of a concert, the times in which she really believed the vocalists of the bands she loved would end up looking at her and falling in love, or when she screamed out of joy, whether on amusement park rides or from pure happiness. Having a voice is enough of a gift; saying and speaking out our thoughts, the most divine of talents that one can possess. Using that voice for the first time in her own podcast is a blessing.

Though, no amount of throat-clearing can get the staff backstage to open up some space for her to walk in. In some parts of her life, being talkative does not compare to being loud, and this is one of those moments she wishes her throat wasn’t dry and in the need for tea, simply to shout to the slow walker in front of her just so she can get to her boyfriend faster. Perhaps, feel the roughness of his calloused fingertips rub against her palm when they hold hands, and he gives her one of those lazy smiles that beg for her to give him a kiss.

The room has gray walls, and around four bands have gathered in the same space. She smells everyone’s deodorants mingling together, and she doesn’t know if the stench is favorable or she’d rather not smell anyone at all, even if it’s not an unpleasant smell. Masculinity exudes from every band, lacking the female character that should exist in rock by now, but someone’s bleached blonde strands of hair, long enough to reach that person’s waist, remind her that there is a representative of female power in this giant gig for small bands.

The vocalist of Wonwoo’s band.

The chopped strands of her hair are, thankfully, long enough to welcome the rotten pair of scissors she uses before every show, not standing split ends, and also not standing the way she calls out her real name. You see, one year ago, the vocalist would’ve been called Eunkyung, with pretty straight hair in chocolate brown, curves covered in small sprinkles of ink, sporting a little black dress of a nice day, but that’s far from the case. Now, Eunkyung has taken up the name Love, an ode to what she hates the most, cutting her hair like she cuts the men out of her life, sporting leather pants and chains falling from her shoulders, cheeks hollowed in absolute distaste of the place she finds herself in, but quite enjoying the bottle of beer she brings up to her mouth.

“Eunkyung!” She calls out again, waving her hand in the air but not getting a reaction. Instead, she stops on her tracks, the sole of her boots barely lifting from the ground as her eyes scan the room. Eunkyung stands out because of her hair, but it’d be difficult to find Wonwoo’s dark head of hair. “Love!”

With the bottle of beer perched up between her rosy lips, Love lifts her hand in the air to greet her, trying to call her over only to stop her ministrations. The little ounces of oxygen left in her lungs ask to remain on her chest before she passes out, her white boots probably dusty by the amount of people who have stepped on her.

Love moves in between the groups of people, pushing people away with a force that could barely be contained in her tall body, never once letting a single droplet of beer fall on the floor. Just when she reaches her, Love wraps her fingertips around her wrist, tutting her name out in a raspy tone, perfect for the edgy tune in the new band. “Shit, what are you doing just standing there? Could’ve gotten your shit stolen.”

Her hand absentmindedly cradles the back pocket of her jeans. Her phone is still there, thankfully. “Sorry, didn’t know I was dealing with prisoners and not with rock enthusiasts.”

Love chuckles at that, now much different from the person she used to be, tattooed up to her neck, flowers blooming on the thin skin. If she looks from close enough, she believes her jugular palpitates against the dark ink. “Here, they’re about the same.”

Once they reach the corner the band had taken up, she finally gets a glimpse of people she has met. In Wonwoo’s apartment last year, for example, when a list of names had been written on a whiteboard and each sounded worst than the last. A man with a burgundy and green beanie sits with his bass on his lap, thin legs parted and yet, seemingly thicker because of his baggy pants. His head is thrown back, as if the chatter around him doesn’t distract him from his thoughts, looking ahead at the ceiling as if there’s something interesting on there. She really does look up, just in case Hansol has found the secret to life in that damned white ceiling.

The bassist doesn’t seem to be paying attention when she directs the question towards Love. “What did he smoke?”

Love finishes her beer in one go, patting her hand against Hansol’s leg before taking a seat on it. The two childhood friends had been the ones to start this whole band ordeal—and to be quite honest, it’s all thanks to them that Wonwoo got the guts to be in a band. Love’s Midnight may not be doing quite well right now, but it will someday. “Vernon didn’t smoke a thing. If anything, I’m the one looking for a smoke.”

“Weed’s bad.” Hansol, or by his stage name Vernon, says from his spot as he finally concentrates on the conversation at hand. His brown eyes seem gentle, even when his dark eyebrows join in a frown. “You’re gonna fuck up your voice.”

“So what?” Love asks.

“We don’t have a vocalist, then.” Hansol continues, pushing her off his lap to put his bass back inside its case, rubbing his sweaty palms against his black pants. “And we don’t have anyone to back you up. My singing is not as good. Andy’s singing is shit and Wonwoo sounds mysterious when he sings, but put him on the front of the stage and he’s going to black out.”

At the mention of her boyfriend, she can’t help but feel a smile creep up her face. Wonwoo was supposed to only be her little cousin’s drum teacher, a little part-time job he had to keep the dream alive, but one of those times her aunt couldn’t make it, she was asked to drive the little boy to class. There, Wonwoo captured her attention, and just before she left with regrets, she had slipped a paper with her number onto his palm.

And he had called.

And now, seven months later, they’re there. Coexisting in the same world, uniting their loose threads, and living out of it.

Well, he’s not there.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” She asks, resting her hands inside the pockets of her jeans, and a little grin appears on Hansol’s face at the mention of his name.

“He’s—”

Hansol’s deep and tranquil voice cuts short when an interruption comes through in the shape of the shortest of the band, purple hair done a mess and yet, matching with the hickeys trailing up his neck, doing his best to conceal it with the thick choker around his neck. Andy, the band’s guitarist, whose innocent features bring him just about any lover to his side, thinking he understands them, listens to them…but he’s a player.

And a damn good one, too. “Twenty bucks and I’ll tell you where he is.”

“Twenty bucks and you shut up.” Her tongue is witty enough to reply, and the sound of familiar laughter stirs her heart alive. When her hands spread on top of Andy’s shoulders, pushing him to the side to look for Wonwoo, she sees him nearing them, perhaps accompanying Andy in the process, black hair falling upon his forehead in sweaty strands, framing his elongated face, rounded ears, enigmatic eyes and tender, thin lips.

He gets closer, enough to wrap an arm around her and make her feel the coldness of the chains on his leather jacket, as dark as the rest of his outfit, but she knows the red shirt underneath is the tank top she bought him not too long ago. “Don’t give him your money. He’s a scam.”

“Girls don’t say that.” Andy shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and gently rubbing the hickeys on his neck.

“I doubt they get to tell you anything at all.” She answers, twirling on Wonwoo’s arms until he’s hugging her completely, his taut chest breathing in and out, meeting hers in the middle. “There’s only so much you can know about someone while having sex.”

“Listen—”

Love stands up from her spot to wrap her arm entirely around Andy’s shoulder, smiling wickedly at the people in front of her. “Instead of arguing with our two lovebirds and the reason why our love songs are good, why don’t we look for a blunt?”

“Be careful out there.” Wonwoo conquers, lifting one of his eyebrows as if to question Love’s actions. The woman simply chuckles, already dragging Andy away for her.

“The only difference between a cigarette and a blunt is social norms, Wonwoo.” Love complies, clearly talking about the smell of cigarettes that breathes out in the aftertaste of the cologne and mint in him. He picked it up not too long ago, and hasn’t been able to get away from nicotine since then.

Hansol, once again too lost in his own world, doesn’t seem to notice—or mind—when her lips meet his in one of those brief dances of excitement, a smile barely able to conceal itself on her face when she looks into his glistening eyes. “How was the gig?”

“Tiring.” He answers, tugging at the collar of his leather jacket. “Love insists we have to look edgy, but this make me sweat buckets.”

“It makes you look hot.”

A tinge of pink creeps up his ears, smiling widely when he moves her from side to side. “What’s with all the love today? You’re awfully happy.”

How not to be so when she’s with him? Awakening to the sound of his fingers pattering against the counter of his kitchen, mumbling out the lyrics of the songs he is always writing. Wonwoo is not only a dreamer but a dream, a sight to look at and a potion inside her stomach. If she could, she’d throw up hearts at the mere mention of him, but the impossibility only further explains her infatuation for him. Love, love is this.

“Well…” She trails her voice, just at the same time that her hands take place by his abdomen, toying with the fabric there. “Did you listen to the podcast today? First episode early in the morning. Not a lot of people tuned in, but twenty is more than nothing, right?”

His black hair covers the darkness that looms over his eyes, lips faltering that smile to instead part delicately. Even his body moves away at the mention of the podcast, little droplets of sweat intensifying on his neck. “T-The podcast was today?”

A sigh leaves her before she could stop it. Forgetfulness is not his thing, but it seems to be today. “Yeah. I told you today before you went out to practice.”

“Shit, sorry.” Wonwoo lets his hand hover on her cheek, lips leaning forward to join hers, but she can’t even purse her own to meet him, leaving him with her blank expression instead. “I went to the gym after practice, and then I was too busy to actually listen—”

“You decided to go to the gym instead of listening to the podcast I have been working so hard on?” Nights spent listening to her favorite albums, preparing topics and asking Minghao to help her achieve the best quality in sound. Publicity done just about everywhere, asking her close friends and family to listen. Twenty people had listened, and none of them was Wonwoo. Her boyfriend.

“It was a mistake.” He whispers, like the boyfriend he is, not forgetting to pour all his emotions out in the pout of his lips. Giving her another kiss, she wants to stay angry, let the pits of hell stay inside her, but his eyes glimmer as if he means it when he promises: “Maybe, next time I will listen, okay?”

Maybe. A relationship should not be gray; it’s either black or white, it’s yes or no, never an in-between. Never a maybe.

But she takes it, because Wonwoo is just the type to say things without thinking. His ‘maybe’ may mean ‘certainly’.

His ‘maybe’ may mean ‘I’m sorry’.

Or it just is meaningless. Not ‘maybe’ at all.

###

Pen to paper. Cigarettes to lips. A mess done person, or a person done a mess.

The press has met the man that she has loved for over eleven months, and yet, she feels like each article that gets out about Love’s Midnight just makes her know the people in the band a lot less. This thought crosses her as her feet come in contact with empty bottles of soda, thrown across the floor of the hotel room they rented for their first real gig. Wonwoo’s cigarettes have been his lover for the night, as well as his lyricism notebook, but Andy seems to be having other ideas in the cheap room next door. It may be just some hooker, but something in her gut tells her that the lack of Love on the afterparty gives her an indicator of who it may be…

The reaction is long gone when she closes the door behind her, sporting her best dress—the one Wonwoo always talked about, the one that had his eyes lingering on her legs a lot longer than necessary, unable to keep his hands off her waist whenever she used it. The attention from him was well received, and yet, it was lacking tonight. The lonesome yellow of the lightbulb in front of them flickers, her heels click against the tiles on the floor, and he doesn’t even pull away from his notebook, humming out the notes to the song he is writing. At least, he’s not the one with the hooker.

But, what kind of thought is that?

It’s not the kind of idea she’d normally have about Wonwoo. Her Wonwoo, all rock songs but soft heartened words. Yet, with each passing month of his newfound stardom, she sees him less. Feels him less. Talks to him in ways that feels as though he is a stranger, and not the kind that wants to meet her. Definitely not the interested strangers they were in the past, the reason as to why they fell in love.

The lighter in between his fingers basks the cream walls in a faint light, the first smoke of the cigarettes leaving his lips and then, he keeps his hand up, a little bit twisted to keep the ashes away from his notebook. She moves closer, the back of her thighs meeting the edge of the bed when she calls out his name. Nothing. Wonwoo feels like nothing these days.

There, in a pretty dress, and yet not of his liking, pushing the pink fabric to fit more of her body, like a woman in her honeymoon. Insecurity latches to each portion of her uncovered skin, clearing her throat to catch his attention as she rests her extended palm on his back.

The toned muscles seem to welcome her touch, but his face remains stoic, hair standing out in various spots, dark eyes packing worries inside his heart. “Wonwoo?”

“Baby, I’m busy.” Annoyance exists in his tone, though it’s almost imperceptible. These days, all his feelings seem to be this way—happiness is the same as sadness, as annoyance and worry. Wonwoo is just a blank canvas, and she can’t seem to paint him. “Can’t seem to finish writing this song.”

“Maybe, it’s just not a good song.” The words don’t come out in the way that normally would. He has been talking about this song for three days, maybe it’s about time he drops it. Maybe, it’s time for them to drop this strange silent treatment between them—

“What?” Finally, he looks over his shoulder, his lips barely wrapping around the cigarette before each blow of smoke is thrown her way with his words. “What do you mean the song is not good? You haven’t even heard it.”

“If you can’t write it, it’s because you’re not inspired for it.”

His eyebrows raise up at that, taking his notebook in between his finger and stomping his cigarette against the bedside table, perhaps leaving it for later. He turns on his back, on the verge of becoming silent again, when he stops tapping his pen against the notebook. “What do you know about music anyways? It’s not that easy to write a song.”

A laugh escapes her nose, because she’s not half happy at the man in front of her. “The podcast I have, the one you don’t listen to, talks about music and I have a minor in something music-related. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I listen to your podcast.” Wonwoo defends, letting the notebook rest on his taut abdomen as he lifts his hands to rub at his eyes. “I just don’t have enough time to listen to you talk for more than an hour—”

Her legs can’t seem to stay still then, standing up from her spot on the bed and making sure to pull her dress as far as possible. Somehow, being looked at by Wonwoo at this moment feels absolutely horrendous. Earlier this afternoon, she would’ve loved to have his hands all over her, his lips mouthing the things he loves the most about her. Right now, he’s impossible. “Isn’t that what a boyfriend should do? Listen to his motherfucking girlfriend?”

“I listen to you, oh my God!” He throws his head back, covering his face with his hands before sighing. “Babe, you’re being irrational. You come in here and tell me my song sucks, and now you’re making this about our relationship?”

“Well, you were the one that told me I didn’t know anything about music.”

Wonwoo stops for a moment, uncovering his face to look at her with what seems to be despair. “Then, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Her heels click harshly with each step she takes towards him. “You can’t just say sorry like you’re bored. Saying sorry has to be meaningful.”

“That’s just how my voice sounds.” But she knows that’s not the case. Deep, tranquil, that’s his voice, but that doesn’t mean it’s not meaningful. That doesn’t mean he can talk to her in a way that feels as though he has never loved her.

“No, that’s not how your voice sounds—”

“Babe—”

“Wonwoo.” She closes her eyes tightly, kneeling to take the empty bottles of soda in between her hands. “Who are you and what did you do to the man I fell in love with?” The question is rhetorical and not meant to be answered as she continues: “You’re messy and uninterested, this is not—”

“Maybe, if you let me speak, I’d be able to tell you what’s wrong with me.”

“Oh, so there’s really something wrong?” Far too entranced in her anger, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Is it me? Am I the wrong thing in your life?”

“When you get like this, maybe.” Wonwoo conquers, standing up and taking the resting empty bottles of soda before sighing. “Hey—”

“No. Repeat that.”

“Give me a break.”

She takes him by his arms, then, his tank top moving with the motion as she makes him turn towards her. Tired eyes to tired soul. One for him. One for her. “You really want me to give you a break? Because I could totally leave you if that means you being happy.”

Wonwoo has always been a selectively silent man. His lips don’t part unless necessary. He loves being a listener, not a talker. She wishes he would’ve stayed silent that night, but he didn’t, instead frowning deeply as he pushed his body away from her. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t listen to me. So, maybe, it’s better if we give each other a break, don’t you think?”

She has to scoff, pulling her dress further down her thighs as it had ridden up, yet not once breaking eye contact with him. “Why call it a break? Why don’t we just break up and that’s it? Call it fucking quits so you can go fuck some other chick that actually listens to you, baby boy?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He answers, shoulders rising and falling as he gets closer to her. “Don’t talk to me at all if you’re going to be like that.”

“Well, tough luck. That’s just how I am.” Her voice drops a few octaves, pushing at his chest to get him away from her. His eyes seem to change, then, ever so present in his feelings, burning through him when he calls his name and tries to reach for her, but she is halfway through the room when his skin barely grazes her.

“Baby—”

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you talk to me. Don’t look for me. Don’t…” Her voice breaks then, breathing out slowly when her hand comes in contact with the handle of the door. “Don’t, Wonwoo. Just don’t.”

“Hey, sorry, you know I love y—”

“Don’t.” She whispers, loud enough for him to hear when she opens the door. Why is that, even when the air in the corridor feels fresher than the one basked in cigarettes in this room, she feels more suffocated when she leaves?

Right, because she never listened to him.

And he never got to talk honestly to her.

###

“Listen, you’re a podcast host. I think you should really leave the coffee aside and go for tea and honey.”

One of the biggest wonders in this world is how in hell Minghao’s blonde strands of hair seem to be soft even when he dyes it continuously. The other wonder is how such a sweet voice like his seems to have the pointiest of remarks just at the tip of his tongue. Perhaps, that’s why Minghao is the tech of her podcast, and not a host to be exact. He’d be far too honest about the newest releases in music. What she’d call ‘something different yet not tasteful’, he’d call it ‘absolute garbage taken out of the trash, eaten by a dog, and then thrown up onto the floor’.

But hey, that’s just Xu Minghao.

Twirling on his chair, he writes something down on their shared document for this week’s podcast, two years on the run and yet, doing better than ever. Thousands of listeners check up each week, either on YouTube or on Spotify, to tune in and talk about the newest music dropped into the world. Mostly rock, but she doesn’t forget some other genres if they catch her attention enough.

He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back on his seat and parting his jean cladded legs, fixing the plain yet expensive t-shirt resting on his slender body before she responds. “Get on with your life, Hao. If I don’t drink coffee, I could totally die.”

“Stubborn as ever, I see.” Minghao tuts, lifting his cat-like eyes from the screen just as he clears his throat. “Your kidneys are the ones dying.”

“As long as it’s not my vocal cords, we’re fine.”

“You’re not going to die because of lack of caffeine. That’s just stupid.” Yet, his eyes keep concentrating on the screen, organizing both good and bad albums to talk about, maybe a sprinkle of singles here and there as not to make the podcast too long. However, just as the straw of her iced coffee meets her lips, Minghao’s face stands out in their office setup, widening his eyes at what he sees on the screen. “You’re going to die because of this, though.”

Exaggerations are not his thing. That’s why he is so poised even when the audio cuts off, or when her voice breaks. Nothing impresses him, nothing leaves an imprint on him, so her body moves to his side before he could completely finish his sentence. “Why? Why? Why? Why would I die?”

Minghao doesn’t let her look at the screen of his laptop, instead reading out the title of the article he read online for her. “Love’s Midnight has released a new album after their one-year hiatus. The drummer, Jeon Wonwoo, surprises with his songwriting skills in their new project: Valentine. The release date is next week and…” Minghao turns to her then, eyebrows lifted as he inspects her features. “Apparently, it’s an ode to a past lover.”

It’s been two years since she opted to never hear those names again. Love’s Midnight. Jeon Wonwoo. Even Eunkyung, Hansol and Andy had been completely eradicated from her thoughts.

Valentine, perhaps because they had gotten together on February, but what are the odds of Wonwoo actually writing a song about her? An album, at that? He had never reached out, not by hand, not by text, not by a single call. Wonwoo had dissipated after a few missed calls, as if he had given up, and it was for a cause.

“Well, we’re not talking about their album next week.”

Minghao shakes his head harshly enough for a few strands of his hair to jump at the motion. “We have to. Love’s Midnight has been huge for the past two years,” The lack of her in their lives must have been the reason of their success. All friends of hers, now nothing in comparison. “And with the departure of Andy and the entrance of lady-killer Hoshi into the team, we better have all the fangirls tuning in for our podcast.”

Andy. The innocent features, short height, the banter in between them. She had not even gotten to know he had left. “Why did Andy leave?”

“Ooh, messy stuff.” Minghao conquers, not one for gossip, but one for knowing it all. “Love and Andy were dating since the start, right?” Now, that’s not the story she knows—Andy and Love were pals for lust, but they were never really a serious thing. “They broke up. Andy departed because of how difficult it was to be around her, and that was it for them. That’s why the hiatus happened, but now Hoshi joined them.”

“Who’s that Hoshi dude?”

The tech turns to his laptop, writing down the name quickly on the search before an image popped up in front of them. Pierced ears, rounded cheeks and sharp eyes, all highlighted by makeup on his cheeks to make him glisten like the sun, the thick eyeliner matching his leather jacket and his pushed back hair full of gel. He seems to be blonde in that picture, but in the one next to it, his hair is darker, playing guitar on stage with Love, who’s singing in the microphone. Skinnier than ever, with her eyes hollowed out and yet, the smile never leaves her face.

“I see,” She starts, pushing her body away when she sees a glimpse of Wonwoo with his hands up in the air in the back, ready to smack his drums again. “We’re not talking about them, though. I don’t care about anything Jeon Wonwoo can write.”

But her heart picks up just at the mere sight of him. Would he be alright? His health, fine? His lungs still working perfectly or is he still in the way to addiction to nicotine? Does the loneliness still haunt him at times in the middle of the night, or has he found someone else already?

“Don’t be like that,” Minghao states, rolling his eyes at her. “It’s just an album, and you haven’t listened to their music in a while. It was two years ago, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“What if it is about me?”

The question haunts her, makes her feel insecure in a way that she hasn’t felt in a while. Maybe, she fears to know what he really wanted to say—the regrets or the acceptance, the things he felt. If it made him happier or sadder. If he, to this day, hasn’t been able to love someone equally as much as her, because she knows she can’t. No man can compare to the fluttering feeling that came with him. “It’s just a few songs. I think not all of them are about you. Besides, it can be any past lover…and I’m sure you weren’t Wonwoo’s first girlfriend.”

Not his first love, and definitely not his last. A sigh leaves her lips as she crosses her arms over her chest. If she spoke about his album, maybe she’d prove to herself that he was wrong. Music exists in her blood, she acknowledges it as part of her, and he can’t tell her that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about anymore.

“I’ll give it a listen once it drops out.”

With a dizzy smile on his features, Minghao claps his hands in excitement. “Well, look who made you agree to something for the first time in his life.” Sending his two thumbs his way, he chuckles. “This guy.”

###

Being the center of attention has never been of his liking. It’s not the thing Jeon Wonwoo is known for, but it’s the thing their publicist wants him to do.

Flashing lights end up all over him, makeup-less and yet, not caring that he is showing every imperfection on his skin. He cares about what he has to say, though, to take out the buried memories of a past love just for the sake of an album, or for healing. The documentary they’re doing about Love’s Midnight, however, is another ordeal he can’t seem to understand. Not quite feeling connected to the camera in front of him, the white background, the staff that gather as if they want to listen to him. They don’t.

Hansol is somewhere by the corner, getting his makeup taken off for his own interview—people want it to be realistic, or so they say. Somewhere around the room, Love is singing at the top of her lungs—not reaching those notes that had once been the point of her knowledge, but still sounding like an angel sent from heaven. Hoshi is the only one nearby, seated with his legs crossed, looking at Wonwoo in understanding. Not equally as introverted, but somehow capturing the essence of dread in Wonwoo’s soul.

He shrinks into himself, each curvature of his muscles hidden by his posture, though the tank top on him does nothing to conceal what he knows will get him compliments, but never too meaningful. He sends a smile to one of the staff members that passes by him, fixing the lights one last time and asking him to take off his glasses. He does, never the type to say no.

“So, Wonwoo…” The cameraman says from his spot, learning his questions like the palm of his hand, and no amount of preparation and knowledge could’ve prepared him for the question thrown his way. His mind knew it was going to happen, but much like a teenage student in high school, he didn’t prepare. “What’s this album about?”

Her.

It’s not a ‘what’, it’s a ‘who’.

It’s his February 21st, his little memory in a pink dress, his ode to the drums, the reason why he sometimes touches the piano in hopes of composing a song. The only smile he can’t seem to remember perfectly, from the shade of her lipstick to the way her lips felt against his. The little smile she gave him after their first kiss, the way she called out his name, the only ode he has been able to give to the world…his memories of her.

“It’s about love, heartbreak, healing. All of the like.” He says, clearing his throat soon after, only to watch the cameraman move his hands, instructing him to say more. His eyes close for a second, letting out a breath that mingles with an uncomfortable laugh. “It’s about someone I loved dearly. Someone I don’t want to forget.”

“What did you love about them?”

“Pardon?”

“What did you love about them?” The cameraman asks, and Wonwoo has to lean back on his seat to capture the gasp that was about to leave his lips. He was never one to say it much—those three words that would have otherwise made her feel better. She’s talkative, he’s not.

What did he love about her?

Was it the love that she made him feel? Was it the movement of her hips, the shape of her lips, the way she spoke about her issues as if the world was falling down on her? Was it her enthusiasm, her happiness—?

“That everything about her made me want to be a better person.” His head nods once, twice, trying to further convince himself that it’s okay that he doesn’t have her. She’ll always exist in his music, in his rhymes, in his handwriting as he gives another poem to her—another melody to cherish her. “She was the only woman I ever imagined myself loving for a long time.”

Yet, he can’t clean up the mess they made. Can’t return to the avenue they left abandoned because it had taken too long to get to their goal. With one last breath, he hears another question:

“Care to explain some songs to us?”

But the words never come to him. They didn’t back then, they don’t now.

###

Okay, an album. She has listened to thousands of those, maybe even millions. It shouldn’t be an issue for her to sit down in front of her computer, plug in her earphones, and just let the melody of Love’s Midnight songs fill her eardrums with absolute bullshit. Cheesy love bullshit that never happens.

But this is not yet another album.

This is an album about her.

Minghao could be right, though. What are the odds of Wonwoo actually remembering her, much more in the form of lyricism? This thought is what has her pushing her earphones inside the laptop, sighing deeply as she presses play. The introduction shouldn’t be that difficult to listen to, and the artwork is simplistic, something of the like of a sunset merging into artwork in its abstract form. It feels romantic, but it isn’t about her.

The first song changes it all.

The first track of nine has Love’s strong vocals, reaching her high notes like they are part of her voice, slow and steady with that edge of slow rock, a plea for a lover to trust them even when they don’t seem to be showcasing their truest intention. A fool, the song speaks about over and over again, blaming themselves for not being able to point out their realest feelings to their lover.

The bass is heavy on the second track, and Hansol—Vernon, in this case—hasn’t lost a single ounce of his talent to fame. Metaphors speak about Wonwoo’s growing love for literature, grieving the end of a relationship and cladding it in pride. A man who can’t seem to understand the finalization of his relationship, covering it with more wrongdoings, and yet, begging for another yesterday, another chance. Something that has her tightening her hand against her heart, listening to Love’s voice dragging feelings through the pits of hell.

The third track is the one she likes the least, and it’s the one that seems to be the most about her. Talking about smiles, laughter, reminiscent of times much happier and yet, mixing a sound that she would’ve never imagined from Wonwoo’s band. It feels like she is walking on the streets of Madrid, waiting for a lover, letting the Spanish guitar pull her in only to dizzy her. Far too happy. Far too difficult to understand with their bitter ending.

The fourth track feels like him, enough for her fingers to hover over the space bar to pause it a few times. Slow, steady, and the pain of the break-up is felt through every single note. Loneliness haunting, drowning and drowning him into this pit of nonexistence. Love’s voice seems to fit every feeling, and she wonders if it’s just her amazing way of portraying sentiments, or it’s common for people to go through so much pain.

Fifth track, and the echo of it makes her feel even lonelier in her room, leaning back on her gray bed and fluffy pillows to close her eyes lightly. Drunken feelings, it speaks about, a man in the middle of a party with the smell of smoke clinging to him, speaking his feelings into the microphone as if they come directly from his heart, remembering how his life seemed to be easier, much easier when it was simpler. The minimalistic whisper coming from Love’s voice indicating: “I’m good, what about you?” in such a broken tone has her sending a weak smile to the air.

She’s not half as good as he is.

Insecurities seep through the sixth track, and her back cracks by the time she moves again, wanting to hear this from up close. This past lover comes haunt him in his dreams, and he only wonders if they’re happy. The sixth track is far more commercial than the rest, reason as to why it doesn’t surprise her it’s the one, they dropped with a music video she has yet to see. The allegories indicate that this lover, maybe, has found someone else, and the thought alone makes them sleepless. Insomniac. Saddened.

Huh, wouldn’t even surprise her if Wonwoo was the one that found someone else. Each of her dates have ended in her going home without a single kiss, not wanting to have anyone but him.

The seventh track shows Wonwoo’s talent by the drums perfectly, upbeat and coming directly from the 80’s, Love doing her best to portray the meeting of two lovers and the immediate chemistry between the two. A pink dress is mentioned, and the only thing she can do is purse her lips together.

Fuck Xu Minghao.

Fuck him for making her listen to this motherfucking album.

Fuck that pink dress that she keeps in her closet.

The piano on the eighth track takes her breath away, far more heartfelt than anything they have ever done—far more mature than anything she would have imagined from Wonwoo’s little band. The fear of losing someone, one last goodbye, the speech through a break-up. It speaks about turning and twisting, about running out of things to say and saying the worst ones. Tears gather by her vision when she hears that female voice speaking all the pain, she has gathered in her heart for only four minutes. It feels like a lifetime.

Getting Wonwoo to sing for her was difficult. It’d have to come after long conversations, when he was really tired, or when she couldn’t sleep. His voice in the last track was unexpected, so much that she wouldn’t even be able to recognize his voice if only she had not listened to it for almost a year of her life, every single day. His deep tone breathes out words of wanting someone back, but not knowing if he should trust his heart or his brain. Starting slow and then building up to a pop beat, it’s a nice song to snap fingers to, yet, she can’t bring herself to do anything but stare at the screen.

He’d still try for her, he says. In some point of his life, or when he wrote this song, he wanted her back.

He’ll always want her back with him.

And it’s with that thought that she closes her laptop, breathing out harshly at the same time that she texts Minghao.

To: Hao.

I hate you for making me listen to this album.

Track number three sucks ass.

Yet, her fingers hover over the search bar, letting the line tickle the write surface with its glow before she is writing down his name. Jeon Wonwoo, but with an addition—girlfriend, she wants to know who this could be about if it’s not about her—

The first pictures that pop out break her heart in a million pieces only to deliver it across the world as a souvenir. Wonwoo is getting out of a party with some model by his side, long dark hair cascading down her back, a little black dress cladding her elongated body, shiny legs in display as a shy smile creeps up her red lips.

Want you back my ass.

Maybe, it’s this model he is missing.

###

Blue lights bathe his skin in its sinful glow, seated by the entrance of a bar. Their usual spot packs people as if they’re the box of cigarettes on his coat’s pocket, one long stick of nicotine dangling from his lips only to be lit up by someone else. Some of the people gathering around him, perhaps, or the femme voice that has been asking him personal questions for the past hour. Short answers have escaped him, but seeing how risqué they are getting and how uncomfortable he is, he can’t bring himself to care.

Tonight, he’s supposed to celebrate the release of Valentine, his newest album. The happiest night of his life, it must be, but it’s far from that. Droplets of champagne pour from the ceiling, cheers being heard as yet another electronic song plays in the background. Eunkyung is lost in God-knows-where, Hansol has embarked in a conversation about the universe with a group of college students, and Soonyoung is dancing as if he doesn’t have a care in this world. He probably doesn’t, and that’s the dream.

It feels weird. Earning money and success from his sentiments should make him feel better—narcissistic in a way that fuels his ego, but only makes him feel as though the headlines are eating him alive. With each person that nears him, he feels more faux. A product, nothing more, nothing less, enough to be dismissed when he stands up from his spot, blowing out smoke into the condensed air. Some bump his side, staining the expensive leather of his coat, but the conceptualization passes him by quickly. At least, he gets to feel something.

Footsteps are heard beside him by the time he opens the door to the bar. If he’s lucky, he may get to go to his apartment, smoke another cigarette, and head to bed quickly. However, just when the black, sleek door slides from his fingertips to close it down, the flashes of cameras attack his features. Each regret is highlighted by yet another paparazzi throwing themselves at him as they ask the same old questions. The only thing that people seem to wonder about him.

“Who was Valentine about? Please, tell us the details!” One of them screams directly to his face, the microphone grazing his bottom lip and making him stumble back. He tries to smile, but the beam falls down by his fakeness.

“Wonwoo, over here!” One of the shortest interviewers says, waving his hand in the air to capture his attention. “Was it about Eunji?”

Right, Eunji. His publicist would love if he simply said it was about her.

The woman comes in the shape of a goddess, and the tremor of her voice brought a distraction for one night. A distraction, compliments that are void, words that did not have to have meaning, and the frustration of not being able to move on. Eunji said she understood—she, too, had been going through some kind of heartbreak and the relief was needed, but each text that came after said events went directly through his head and towards the deleted pile. One night was enough.

Blowing the air of his cigarette in the air, his mind desires to give the paparazzi what they want. Be the good boy he has always been in a band of people who have stood out for their unique qualities, but tonight, when it’s about her and the success tastes like blood and iron on his tongue, he doesn’t want to be who he used to be.

Jeon Wonwoo, did everything to be one of the most well-known drummers of the year, and ended up alone in the process.

“It’s just for someone, let me be.” He whispers, pushing through the seas of people with his bodyguard trailing right behind him. One good thing comes from fame, but just as he is getting away from the bar, the clicking of cameras still following along with the words from the paparazzi, he hears a lively voice cut through the air with worry.

“Wonwoo, what do you think you’re doing? That’s bad publicity.” Soonyoung speaks quickly, brushing his blonde hair away from his face to showcase his reddened face. The honesty must come from being a bit tipsy.

“Sorry.” It’s the only thing he can bring himself to say, because he knows it’s bad publicity, but isn’t it bad enough that people have been speculating about the muse behind his album? And none of the suppositions are right.

“Stop smoking and look at me for once.” Soonyoung indicates, and Wonwoo parts the cigarette from his lips for a second, quirking one of his eyebrows as they walk together. “What is going on with you?”

“I’m about to become a million seller by exploiting my past relationship and I’ve been getting more attention than usual in the process.” The night seems to swallow each and every single one of his worries, leaving him with a sigh. “I think I’ve just had enough.”

“That’s what happens, dude!” Soonyoung conquers, as if trying to make him feel better. His arm wraps around his shoulder, moving him from side to side. “You’ve done something great for our band, and you’ve been able to let go of all those pent feelings.”

Ha. That’s something he hasn’t done at all. How stupid does he have to be to be in love with her when it all ended so wrongly? Besides, it’s not like she would’ve waited for him—he was a dick, and she has all the reasons to find someone much better. The thought has him putting the cigarette up to his lips again.

“I suppose.” He shrugs, watching a limousine pull up not too far away from them. Since when did he forget about the existence of taxis and started to be too rich for his own good?

“The publicists are going to be so mad at you.”

Wonwoo stops at that, looking ahead and back, ahead and back, not knowing if he should move forward and drag himself to the past. Was it easier when no one cared? Is it easier now that he has all he ever wanted?

Was this all he ever wanted at all?

“Soonyoung…” He says those words into the air, playing a smile into his features as if he feels it. He doesn’t. “Can’t we just get in the car and not talk about this for a second? Let’s talk about any other band but Love’s Midnight.”

Something in the blonde man switches, opening the door to the limousine as he nods with uncertainty. He doesn’t like being looked at like that—as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life…

Because it’s damn right.

But hey, at least he’s almost a million copies seller, right?

###

“Huh, I listened to an album this week,” Her voice drags with the continuation of her sentence, eyes trailing up until she meets Minghao’s, far too concentrated on the sound of her microphone, on stopping the echoes and making sure that those who tune in live do get to hear her properly. She has to muffle a laugh. Nervousness makes her sound stupid. “Well, duh, of course, I always talk about music and listen to albums…but I listened to a weekly favorite just last week.”

Each day has been worse than the last. The headache doesn’t leave her, finding herself humming the tunes to Love’s Midnight songs—that one song, the last track, keeps playing in her head as if she had been the one who composed it. Whatever. It happens. I’m sure most of the women in music who had songs written about them felt the same way. Maybe, Courtney Love felt like this. Could’ve been worse, at least Wonwoo didn’t pull a Lennon and wrote a song along the lines of “Dear Yoko”.

She fixes the beanie on her head, staring forward at the white doors of her office, the coldness seeping through her sweater, a shiver going down her spine. “It’s Love’s Midnight latest album, Valentine. You guys were recommending it a lot this week, wanted me to talk about it and all…” Her fingers start to play with the straw of her drink, trying her hardest not to take too many pauses. The podcast is live for some, after all. “And it’s here. I’ll talk about it.”

With the last ounce of sanity left inside her body, she takes a long sip of her drink, smacks her lips and starts pouring out her thoughts into professionalism.

“Track number three sucks. Sorry to anyone who is a fan, but track number three is the corniest, stupidest thing I’ve ever heard from them. No hate, just truth.” She lifts her hands in the air, watching Minghao lift his gaze to mouth something to her. Don’t, he says, and she remembers that was the last word she told Wonwoo. Fuck. “In all honesty, though, I liked the conceptualization of the album. I think that…uh…they could’ve added some spice here and there. Everything felt like a pile of heartbreak—”

The screen by her side lights up, showing up the live chat and the viewers speaking about the album.

Jeon Wonwoo wrote it for a past lover. He must be heartbroken.

Track number three is the best, though.

Finally, you’re talking about Love’s Midnight. Favorite band.

“But yeah, Love did amazingly with her vocals, contrary to what one would believe. She went to high highs and low lows, exquisite in her vibratos, that raspy tone of hers still captures everyone who listens.” Looking up at the ceiling, she swallows thickly. So much to say about nine tracks about her, and still the words don’t come out. “H—Vernon, he’s very good with the bass. You know, maybe our tech Minghao will agree with me on this, but Vernon is the one who makes the songs feel profitable, like it can be heard in a club, can be heard in the car, both adults and teens can like his sound. Definitely one of the pillars of the band, I think.”

Minghao nods his head from the booth, and she feels a little bit of warmth in the room. She’s not alone—if she fucks up, she’s not alone.

“Hoshi. Didn’t even know Hoshi was in the band until our tech told me, haven’t been really up to date with Love’s Midnight…” Because watching him play would only bring back the memories of the first time they met, the feeling of his skin tattered in tattoos under the weight of her hands, the tremble of his voice, the tender way he held her. Like she meant something. Like her words meant something. Until they didn’t. “God, his solos? He’s—I think in this era, in this generation of musicians, it’s impossible to stand out as a guitarist because there’s hundreds, thousands, millions of good guitarists. Haven’t seen Hoshi live, but I’m looking forward for the acoustic sets with his talent. Just from listening to him, I feel like he has real talent.”

Her eyes divert towards the screen, shaking a bit when she reads a question on her opinion about Wonwoo’s songwriting skills. There, she can imagine him sprawled on his bed, his notebook covering most of his face as he looks at her from the corner of his eye, sending a shy smile her way before venturing into a new world, writing her in it as if he cared.

Did he ever care?

“Ah…what I think about Jeon Wonwoo’s songwriting skills?” Saying his name out loud has her scrunching up her features. If she closes her eyes, he’s there, so she keeps them wide open. His voice calls her out—baby, baby, I didn’t forget you. “I think they could be better.”

It’s at this time that Minghao scoffs from his spot, shaking his head as he places his hands behind it. Liar, his pretty lips mouth at her.

“Wonwoo, whoever this album is about,” Me, she thinks, it’s about me and my stupid dumb smile when around him. My insecurities. My world. “I don’t know, it feels fake. Maybe, it’s just me…” Her voice trails for a second, shaking her thoughts out before sighing. “They’re good, they’re just not…you know, they’re not ‘album of the year’ worthy. He seems to be stuck in the same topic and I can’t judge his range if he’s only written about…one thing…you know, like—” Shit, she’s really digging her own grave right here. What is she supposed to say? That she liked it? “Like, yeah, we get it, you’re heartbroken…but, I mean, judging from what he has written in the album…he fucked up, too, you know?”

Maybe, she should just read some comments. Reassure herself that she’s not sounding like the one who had an entire album written about her.

Emo boy energy, doesn’t surprise me. Very Jeon Wonwoo-esque. One of them writes.

The drums were sick, though. Say hi to me, host!

People say it’s about Song Eunji.

Song Eunji. Model. Wonwoo’s latest known lover. The pictures flash before her eyes as she thinks about it. Maybe, it’s really about Eunji and not about her…

Why does the thought make her sadder?

“So, yeah, I’d give it an eight point seven out of ten. Favorite track is track number nine. Hoshi is the backbone of this band to me now. That’s it.”

Regret clings to her like a leech. Song Eunji. Jeon Wonwoo. An album. Failed dates. A broken relationship. Why is love always extra difficult for her?

###

“Come on, babe, lighten up.”

With rosy cheeks, her friend, Jade, speaks those words like there is enough space in this party for her to feel free. There isn’t, quite clearly, but Jade is on the brink of her youth, ready to mess up her long hair, get on some tables and drunkenly sing to the world, albeit a bit messily. Her family, all consisting of enormous classic musicians, rooted from the most intricate and exclusive of schools, would shake their heads at the sight of Jade, already rid of her shirt and practically dragging her body towards her to wrap an arm around her shoulder and keep herself steady. The bottle of champagne Jade had been drinking from is brought up to her lips, and she has to take a sip if she doesn’t want Jade to start whining in a high tone, able to break through the bass-boosted music in this club.

It’s Jade’s birthday, and Minghao is nowhere to be seen. He probably left early—her fault for trying to play matchmaker between Jade and Minghao over a year ago, but her apologies had never been enough for the awkward blind date she had set up for the two of them. If there’s one thing Minghao can’t stand is lying, and much more if it’s about his romantic life.

To be quite honest, she thought it’d be a match. Stylishly rich guitarist of a local band, Jade, and stylishly average tech of her podcast, Minghao.

Maybe, she was wrong.

“Shit, Jade—” She’s already taking off her jacket from her shoulders to drape it across Jade’s chest, who simply looks down at the fabric with a scrunch of her nose. “You’re on your bra.”

Jade chuckles sweetly, because inherently, she’s dulcet. The kind of girl that wipes your tears after a break up, lends you some powder after you throw up in a bar’s bathroom, and the one that just wants everyone to have a good time. Everyone including her. “Babe, it’s Victoria’s Secret. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Everyone is going to see your nipples.”

“You know, it’s better for me to have two very healthy nipples than not have them at all. So, whoever wants to see, can see.” With that, her jacket is given once again to her, staring at Jade who brings up the bottle of champagne up to her lips, the pink liquid trailing down her cheeks and her chin. “Why are you here all alone?”

Because the music is shitty, Minghao is nowhere to be in sight, and Jade was playing a game of body shots not too long ago. College has been long dead for her since a while ago—and she doesn’t think she’d be confident enough to have someone drinking directly from her body.

Props to Jade, of course.

“Ah, maybe because I wanted to leave soon?” She asks, rubbing the back of her head to play with her messy ponytail. It had been sleek once, but being around this amount of people, dancing against one another, and trying to move through them while also avoiding anyone getting too close to her, was a difficult task that ended up getting her a bit riled up.

“Shut up!” Jade screeches, wrapping her arm around her once again and resting her cheek against hers. “Shut up, babe! You’re not leaving…anywhere…no.”

That’s the drag of her voice, the clear sign that Jade will be too drunk tomorrow, drunk enough for her not to remember if she leaves her alone here—

But shit, she can’t leave Jade alone. She’s shirtless, meaning that her Versace shirt must be somewhere on the floor, or covered in vomit, and she’s drunk. God knows what could happen if she leaves her alone.

“I’m not leaving you, don’t worry.”

“Yay!”

“But I should clean you up, you’re all sticky from the alcohol, Jade.” She replies, already making her way through the masses of people to find the bathroom. It must be by one of the corners, but she’s not too sure in this club. “Why did you drink so much?”

“Because—”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Just because.”

When the bathroom’s door is only a few meters away, she sees him. The song that is playing in the background is too robotic for anyone’s taste, but the one that plays inside her head is the one she mumbled to him before they fell asleep once.

‘Love of my Life’ by Queen.

Because if there’s someone that she loved in this world, in this hellish world that they dare call real life, it’s Jeon Wonwoo.

Closed eyes, head tilted back enough for his Adam’s apple to bob when he takes another drag of his cigarette. Nicotine is his lover for the night, while Love seems to tell him something angrily, fingers threading through her bleached blonde hair, dying at the number of products she puts on it, fried at this point. Wonwoo looks like himself, but he also doesn’t. She knows those black strands of hair, and how they curled against her fingertips when she tightened her hold on them after a kiss. Her mind recognizes those lips, now pink yet chapped, but when they wrap into an answer that blows the smoke into the air, he doesn’t seem like her Wonwoo. His eyes open, he stares at Love as he speaks to her, but Love’s eyes are already looking at someone else.

Eunkyung is calling out her name and there is nothing that seems to stop her as she stumbles away from her seat.

It’s at nights like these that she wishes to be forgotten. Get on a car, preferably old, drive until her feet hurt or until the gas runs low, wearing a thin jacket as she listens to classics. She’s tired of this new version of her life that she can’t seem to get used to. People that she thought she knew seem to be far too different now, with Eunkyung not existing when she reaches her and Jade. This is Love, the vocalist of Wonwoo’s band, with eyes so hollow she almost feels dead, and a mouth that wraps up in a smile that begs for a second chance.

Because everyone wants to go back.

But no one can.

“It’s been so long since I last saw you!” Love’s arms wrap around her to take her away from Jade, but her friend doesn’t seem to mind as she giggles mindlessly. Love’s hold is strong, calloused hands meeting her spine as she cages her face on her shoulder. There are tears there, an unspoken word, perhaps the need to feel like herself again. This is not Eunkyung. “Where have you been?”

“Somewhere. Always here.” She replies, pulling away and yet, capturing Wonwoo’s gaze in a single second. His eyes are already on her, twinkling heavenly in the pits of hell, and she has to give a step back to deny the gravity in between the two.

“Wonwoo’s over there. Let me call him over—!”

Little by little, she loved him.

And little by little, she shall erase the memory of him.

“No, sorry. Me and my friend are going back home.” She replies, wrapping her hand around Jade’s wrist, pulling farther and farther away from the people she had known the most. Yet, she doesn’t know them now. These people on world tours, selling millions of copies of their albums, making money out of their past…those are not people she had known.

And she doesn’t want to know them again.

Her feet bring her out of the club, and she swears she feels someone behind her, but with rushed steps the feeling becomes barely a ghost. Then, nonexistent. Finally, in the car she starts to think about it.

May the stars only know if it was him going after her.

###

With him, it always feels like one of both said something wrong. Or, rather, didn’t say anything at all.

What’s with her, this feeling of talking too much and saying too little? What’s the regret that overtakes her when her head leans back on her seat, listening to the song Minghao has put on per her request, played for their viewers and yet, not quite admitting to her most intricate of desires even on a verse? Her eyes stare at the ceiling, imagine him in front of his drums—imagine him calling her beautiful, holding her head, longing for her. All things she wants now, all equally as impossible.

A week since she last saw him, and she likes to believe Wonwoo went trailing after her. It’s the only thing that keeps her up at night—the questioning of reality and a dream. Maybe, he was never behind her—it could’ve been one of the partygoers, one of those drunken people that don’t know where to step, or it could’ve been him. Why does she feel her lungs relax against its own confines when she imagines him?

Because this is Wonwoo. The one who writes songs about her. The only man that she can’t seem to get over. Memories that come back all the time, because he’s in every single one of them. Wonwoo’s name spill from her tongue without knowing, his songs come to her in the shower without meaning to, and his scent is felt on every portion of her bed. He hasn’t been there in years, but it’s almost like he left only yesterday.

It was two years ago.

Two years, and she really should get over him.

Her eyes divert towards her computer screen, watching the messages pop in slowly before she sees a collection of digits. It’s a date—the date in which everything ended, continued by a text that has her mouth drying up.

I want to see you again.

It has to be a coincidence; it really has to be so. It could be that someone’s important date was two years ago, in that night in which everything ended. She sighs deeply, clearing her throat when the song finishes itself and she has to talk again.

“Well, now we have to talk about that album—”

Another message pops up, but it’s impossible. Wonwoo rarely listened to her podcast, and when he did, he never said anything.

Love’s Midnight album is about who you think it is about.

Please, let me see you again.

She wants to see him again, too. It’s that feeling that keeps her up at night—knowing he could be close, but never close enough.

“Ah, in case anyone comes across a bunch of messages in the chat about seeing me again. It’s just some ex.” She tries to chuckle, but her voice has long gone left for something duller, stranger, as if she can’t get used to talking when it’s about him. “Already seeing someone dude, sorry.”

Seeing who?!

Minghao lifts his gaze, his hat doing nothing to conceal the disappointment on his face. What can she do? Admit that she feels jealous whenever she hears those rumors about who the album is about? That she has looked at pictures of his possible lovers and yet, the feeling never quite settles well with her?

The last man she saw was a man of wealth—son of a record label owner, very much into music, yet not quite in a band or participating anywhere as a solo artist. Mingyu was a nice date; the kind that made her laugh, ate a lot with her, drank a good glass of burgundy colored wine with her…but he wasn’t a forever. Wasn’t even a kiss. Mingyu became a friend after, and then, she didn’t want to date again.

But it’s what she has to do. If Wonwoo can go date some Eunji, and possibly write one or two songs about her, she can date whoever…

Right?

Right?!

###

The documentary didn’t show exactly how Love’s Midnight came to be what they are today.

People love a good story. Movies are a profitable job because of that, and books keep on fueling fantasies for those who can’t live in a better world for the same reason. What happens is, if something is boring, people don’t care. There has to be sentimentalism; enough to move anyone to tears, or make them feel inspired. Everyone who has been legendary has gone through a story of pain, only to reach their best spot. There’s a downfall in between, but the point of union always brings the grand finale to life.

In reality, Love’s Midnight happened because of Hansol. Eunkyung, who now can’t seem to stand anyone calling her that name instead of Love, worked part-time in some bar downtown. The place was ratchet, with hidden call-people expecting someone to capture them for the night, some drunkards that got a little bit too loud, and the owner, who’d always thank Eunkyung’s presence, calling it Love’s Midnight whenever clients gathered around…because her drinks were that good.

Hansol said, as he happened to be sitting down in Wonwoo’s couch, that it sounded like a band’s name. Andy was there, too, partly rubbing the skin of his arm after getting his first tattoo, and also hardly listening—but it seemed to be fitting for him, to join their forces and make a group. Originally, Eunkyung was supposed to be a guitarist, but Wonwoo would not even dare step in front of masses of people to sing a goddamned song about love.

What did people who watched the documentary believe now? That it was because of Andy’s nickname to Eunkyung. Love, when they were lovers, and the midnights they spent together. It earns them more money, yes, but it’s also heavily exaggerated to have people asking for more. Andy and Love were one of the biggest couples years ago, after all, and people thirsted more and more for their little interactions, even if they were nonexistent at this point.

Luckily, Hoshi is now with them.

But people are now even more interested in the band, and the arenas for the concerts of their world tours have been selling like hot bread. The problem is that being in a van with his three bandmates gets more tiring with each and every day that they spend pretending to be people they are not. They have to be cool, edgy, attend parties when they are told to, drink alcohol like it’s water, talk like they think of themselves as the most mysterious in this world. He can’t even call Hansol his real fucking name without having one of their managers tug him by the arm and correct him to Vernon.

The news outlet displays itself on the television screen. Hoshi keeps strumming on his guitar, and Vernon doesn’t seem to mind as he lays sleepily on his bed, ready to knock off. Love is somewhere in the back with someone she met in the afterparty of the concert—some groupie that she can’t seem to get her hands off of. The worst part is that he can’t seem to continue writing this song for the next album, because a picture of him is displayed on the screen.

“Who do you think Valentine is about, Rose?” One of the hosts asks, moving her short hair away from her sturdy shoulders to look at her taller counterpart.

Rose plays with the strands of her bubblegum pink hair, smacking her lips together before she speaks up. “People say it’s about Eunji Song, but I think there’s a line of girls that say it’s about her.”

“Wonwoo’s totally a womanizer.” Another host says, fashionable in the way he dresses, one leg crossed over the other. “We have fourteen idols who have been linked with him, three models, one entrepreneur and all in the last two years. We don’t even know who could’ve slipped the public eye.”

Rose takes a sharp breath, her teeth clattering in a way that has Wonwoo closing his eyes tightly. Two models, and that was about it. Neither lasting more than a week. Neither meant to be more to him. Just two people that he happened to come across with, and helped him forget. Well, tried to, at least. “He has even more lovers than Vernon!”

“Vernon’s been with the same girl for a while. Maybe, he could learn a thing or two about a committed relationship.”

The first host chuckles at their words, shaking her head in the process. “Everyone’s into drummers. I think he just likes the attention.”

The lonesome tune of Hoshi’s old guitar stops playing in the background, and Vernon’s soft snores mix with the cars passing by. His fingers reach for the remote, turning off the TV before those words stain his heart even further.

“Want to talk about it?” The bleached blonde man in the room asks, resting his cheek against his guitar to pay his utmost attention to him. “Vernon knows. Love does, too. But you’ve never told me what happened with your Valentine.”

Maybe, Hoshi seems like the kind who doesn’t take anything seriously—but he does. His eyes glaze over as he quietly speaks into the night, but Wonwoo can only stand up from his seat, eager to lock himself in his own room and think of what exactly happened. He doesn’t know what’s going on inside his head. “It’s nothing special,” But it is. Wonwoo believed in a lot of things—that Van Gogh was the best artist of his generation, that knowledge is the best form of revenge, and that she was his person. The only individual in this world that could see him for who he was and still, gauged him to be better. “Just what happens to everyone.” He fixes his jeans then, hanging low on his hips when Hoshi scoffs.

“What happens to everyone?”

“…Just, falling in love and never being able to make it work.”

“That’s not your fault.”

He stops in front of the door that leads to his room, and he wants to believe what Hoshi says. Maybe, if she had understood him as an artist, they’d be together. Perhaps, if he had just listened to her, he wouldn’t have written an entire album about heartbreak. It was not inherently his fault, but partly, like DNA that splits in two and creates the atrocity of what they were. The beauty in the fallout. “I’m heading to sleep.”

A hand wraps around his thigh, caging him in his spot when Hoshi, with a widened gaze, asks: “Who is it about?” The gossip must’ve gotten to him, too. Secrecy at its finest made an entire festival for the world to enjoy. “Like, who out of all the women they say it’s about…the album is actually written for.”

“None of them.” Wonwoo conquers, pushing his body away from him with a dizzied smile on his face. “…And that’s all I’m saying.”

“Wonwoo—!”

“I’m not saying who it is about.”

“…Damn it.” Hoshi adds, finally leaning back on his seat and returning to his guitar, soon after playing a tune with a few invented lyrics: “Jeon Wonwoo has a stick up his ass…”

The door closes behind him with a swoosh, all thoughts of rationality building themselves down out of pure impotence. The room is far too tiny, and Hoshi will join him sooner than later when he finishes his little guitar rendezvous, but that’s far from the point now. With each step he takes towards his bed, the more he notices his phone. Changed it like four times in the past two years because of crazy groupies, obsessed people sending him threats and just because he could do so. He wanted change so much that he doesn’t need it anymore.

The bed welcomes his weight as if he had never left, molding to his every curve, bouncing at his mere presence. His fingers subtly reach for his phone, lurking through his contacts like a man searching for answers.

His past lover is taken, and he’s stupid enough to press down on her contact even when he’s not drunk. Not an ounce of alcohol clads his vision, his stance, and that only makes it more pathetic.

But, how could she be taken? If love’s not as easy to get rid of for him, it should be difficult for her, too.

The ringing stops, and someone picks up, though the voice that welcomes him is old, a femme to be exact, but definitely over her sixties. “Hello?” She asks on the voice, and Wonwoo closes his eyes tightly out of embarrassment. “Who is calling this late?”

Right, a sixty-something-year-old woman is probably not used to two in the morning calls.

But who is, actually?

Out of embarrassment, his thumb presses down on the red button and he’s once again left with his silence. This has to mean that he should stop—calling his ex-girlfriend, who said was taken, is not the worst thing he has done, but it’s outright pathetic. For a second, he thinks of texting someone else—a friend, a model, a singer, someone who clearly wants to pay attention to him, who wouldn’t mind having the star of the year talking to them about anything and everything but her.

Yet, his mind can only think about an old friend, and it’s not even a friend to start with. Calling him would earn him a few insults, so he opts to text the only direct line he has to what he wants to get back. The thread that could move him closer to getting an answer.

To: Xu Minghao.

Hello, Minghao. This is Wonwoo.

Jeon Wonwoo from Love’s Midnight.

Minghao probably recognizes him more as his friend’s ex-boyfriend, but hey, he doesn’t know what to say.

Still, he mentions her name.

To: Xu Minghao.

Do you have her number?

I really need to talk to her.

For a few seconds, he wishes he could dissipate. Of course, Xu Minghao probably has made his life, twirled in his bedsheets and perhaps, with a lover that fits him better than he ever fit his ex. He’ll probably get insulted nonetheless, knowing just how protective he is over the podcast host. It’s two in the fucking morning, Wonwoo’s not drunk, but he really wishes he was so he could have an excuse for being…

Stupid.

A dick.

From: Xu Minghao.

Are you drunk?

To: Xu Minghao.

No.

From: Xu Minghao.

Are you planning on getting drunk?

To: Xu Minghao.

No.

Her number is linked soon after, not without forgetting to add something else.

From: Xu Minghao.

Anything you say can and will be held against you.

I’ll know if you do something stupid.

Don’t fuck it up, dude.

The thing is that Wonwoo is a thinker. Immature at times, or most of the time, but really an overthinker. His dad always told him that going through life as if he’s in a game of chess would help him make right decisions. Count every movement as a step forward, but also a step closer to either winning or losing. Each and every action could cause the fallout of others, of himself, or absolute success. He doesn’t know where he stands as the phone rings and he awaits her response.

“Hello?”

That groggy tone, he has heard before. Whenever someone wakes her up from a nap or a deep night of sleep, her voice seems to be eerily quiet. It’s the only time he has heard her something far from perfect, not as knowledgeable as she is. Love-filled confessions were given at the peak of the night, when Wonwoo’s fingers would ghost over the delicate spot on her waist and she’d grasp his hand with her warm ones and say: I love you.

Muffled, silent, followed by sleep, and yet so meaningful.

“What do you mean you’re taken?” Wonwoo wants to say a million things. Say hi, and indicate that her podcast has only gotten better. That he’s sorry for not believing in her, or rather, not knowing how to show it. However, his mind is clouded with the image of her, holding hands with someone else, kissing someone else, being in absolute love with someone that is not him—and making it work. Egotistic as it can be, he is.

The bed ruffles, and for a moment, she’s silent. Too unlike her until she breathes out, much more awake now, surprised even. “Wonwoo, why are you calling me?”

The only time he has heard that surprised tone was after their first kiss. One would think that someone as beautiful as her would’ve kissed him with little to no reaction after, but his collarbones can almost feel the weight of her face at the memory. Her features hid away from him, the dumbest of smiles accompanied with a few giggles of her own. It was as if she had been waiting for him, and he had taken too long.

It’s not that different now.

“I—Uh, I needed to hear you. Hear from you.” Wonwoo doesn’t know what to say, straightening up his position on the bed and taking his pillow to slot his fingertips against the fabric. “I told you what I really felt and what I did, and all you do is ignore me.”

“I’m not friends with my exes, sorry.” She replies, and Wonwoo is about to retaliate, but the words have come back to her. Angry. Burning. Scalding. “And why in all the fucking hell would I have to tell you why I’m taken?”

“Because—” He wants to be honest for the first time in a while. With himself and with her. “Because we used to be friends before we were lovers, and I still care about the kind of person you’re seeing—”

“Do you really care?” The scoff that leaves her lips brings a frown to his face. “Go ask one of your models, or Song Eunji, about who they’re seeing and what they’re doing with their romantic lives. You don’t need to protect me from anything.”

Oh, so she knew about Eunji. “I’m not with any of them.”

“And you’re not with me, either.”

Wonwoo has to run his fingers through his messy black hair in order to grasp onto something else, or organize his thoughts before he goes absolutely insane. “I’m not.”

Silence. “So, why are you calling?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you loving someone else.” He breathes out, and before she could interrupt him with one of her pointy, correct, honest speeches, he bares his heart and soul. “…I’ve only been yours, I’m still yours. I want to know who it is that made you not want to be mine again.”

Again must not be in her vocabulary, and if he listens close enough, he can hear the change in her breathing, as if she starts to live life slower. “So, you date some model and I’m supposed to stay single?”

Fuck.

“I didn’t date her.”

“Then, you slept with her. Or various women, I don’t know.”

He can only stay silent.

“I know we broke up, and it’s totally okay for you to do that, but why would you ask me to stay waiting for you, when you didn’t wait for me either?”

“Okay, shit, sorry.” Wonwoo tries to reorganize his thoughts. He’s stupid. She wasn’t wrong when she said most men are stupid in the past, and now he has entered the spectrum. “I did it because it just…I just…I needed to get you out of my head.”

“By sleeping with other women?”

“Two.”

“Oh, two.” She releases, sarcasm thick in her voice. “What would you do if I said I have had more than two?”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, imagining her going on dates or perhaps, simply looking for someone in a bar. For men to sweeten her lips with a taste of their own, before treating her like less than what she deserves. It’s not what he wants for her, but it’s the same medicine he took. “It’d suck, but it’d be acceptable. We are not together.”

“Exactly.”

“…But who is it?”

“Who?”

“Who is the person you’re seeing right now? Out of your repertoire of people.”

She remains silent for a few seconds, as if she’s thinking too deeply, and yet, Wonwoo can’t keep his mouth from running. For the first time in his life, he wants to say a lot instead of saying nothing at all.

“No one.” She whispers into the dark night, the lullaby of his dreams coming directly from his lips. He wants to call it a second chance, but it just means solitude. “…Because unlike you, I wasn’t able to move on as easily.”

“I didn’t, fuck, I didn’t move on.” Wonwoo replies, laying on his stomach as he hides his face on the sheets. “I was just stupid. I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Do so or I’ll hang up. Last chance to hear my voice—”

“I wanted to get over you, and I thought I’d do what most rockstars do. I’d just sleep with someone and feel powerful, like I don’t care…” His voice trails, eyes glistening when he lifts his gaze. “But I do care. I care about you.”

“…I don’t know if I should trust you.” The insecurity is palpable through her voice, as if she’s a star in this sky and she’s only getting farther away from him. Tiny, miniscule for her; big and bright for him. “Wonwoo, we didn’t understand each other then, when we were barely starting to be the people we wanted to be. How would we understand each other now that my podcast is doing the best it has ever done, and you have about every woman in this damned country wanting to throw their wet panties at you?”

Looking up at the ceiling, Wonwoo wants to say the truth. What he has always regret not telling her. “I’ll always try my hardest for you. I didn’t do it then, but I’d go back and do it differently if I could.”

The line cuts short after she hangs up, leaving him with no more than a sharp intake of breath.  

###

The chocolate on the man’s ice-cream cracks under the force of his teeth, sliced nuts meeting the white substance in between—vanilla ice-cream, most likely, with a few lines of caramel. She had forgotten just how much Mingyu seemed to enjoy life, lips forever petrified in a smile as he looked around in the ice cream shop. Her delight has disappeared into the depths of her stomach, but Mingyu is on his second ice cream. Not a care in this world. Not a single wrinkle on his face to indicate he is feeling the weather a little bit strongly. He’s just eating, living, existing, breathing.

Jade tagged along, because something about her being in his father’s label and Mingyu absolutely needing guitar classes means that they had to ask her to come to their little ‘not a date’. Judging by the way Jade’s cheeks stain pink, and how she continuously play with the strands of hair, becoming a shy version of herself she had rarely gotten to see—unless they went to a concert and got to meet the artists backstage—, she thinks there is a reason why everything felt so inherently wrong with Mingyu, and with her setting up date for Minghao and Jade.

The young woman’s eyes glaze over when Mingyu smiles at her, and her fingertips reach for his lips to rub the chocolate away. Those stares, in between shyness and comfort, in the stage of not knowing what to say and yet, doing everything all at once—she lived that with Wonwoo, and she knows they’re probably less than a month away from calling it the truth.

So, she stands up, because if she can do something right in this life it’s making two people get together, even if she has to fake a few actions in the process. “I’m getting another ice cream. Want one, Jade?”

“We’ll share.” Mingyu adds, already putting his newly bitten chocolate ice cream up to Jade’s lips, and he barely ignores Jade’s widened eyes as she wraps her lips around the sweet and bites on the chocolate.

“Okay…” She whispers, lifting her hands in the air with her phone dinging in between her fingertips. “I’ll be right back.”

She doesn’t miss the way that Jade whispers ‘take your time’, before Mingyu joins her with sweet laughter.

Ugh, love.

It’s so motherfucking annoying when you don’t have it.

But, let’s admit it—it’s cute in its early stages.

To: Hao.

So, when I set you up with Jade…

From: Hao.

You mean: Worst idea you’ve ever had?

To: Hao.

Yeah.

Did you hate me for it because Jade’s not your type, or because you knew she’d be a better match for Mingyu?

From: Hao.

Jade denies it, but she’s always had a thing for Mingyu.

To: Hao.

Oh, tea?

From: Hao.

I guess.

She drunkenly admitted it to me once.

Well, initially she said she wanted Mingyu to tie her to a ceiling fan and make her spin.

But I continued to talk her out of it and she admitted that she thought he was cute.

And I’ve been working on building up her crush on him for a year straight.

To: Hao.

Trust Xu Minghao on finding the love of your life.

Upon approaching the counter to order her ice cream, she hears someone softly calling out her name. It’s a delicate voice, definitely not used a lot, as if the air could take away the words in one single swish. Locking her phone as she turns to the side, she sees a smaller young woman by her side. Probably on her teens, with black hair and red highlights, a band t-shirt representing the pinnacle of her youth. Long ago, before Jeon Wonwoo even existed in her life, she may have looked like this.

“It’s you.”

But she wouldn’t have said that to a complete stranger, lowering her voice to a deep whisper as she clings onto her backpack. The pins read Love’s Midnight name and logo, making her swallow harshly.

“Sorry, I don’t know you—”

The teen fan gets her phone out of her pocket, lurking through her pictures as she speaks. “You’re the woman Valentine was written about,” The lisp on her tone is ever-present, clinging to her every syllable as she shows the device to her, pictures with Wonwoo displayed one by one, moved by her finger to show even more proof. Her face behind important pictures of their first few gigs, a few messages in social media that she was sure she deleted before— “Fans have been going crazy trying to find who it was about, but I saw you in the pictures and decided to look you up.”

She has to take a step back. Fear overtakes her. A young fan could do anything they wanted with this information, and if she was able to find all that…this is not the normal kind of fan. With shaking fingertips, she clasps her phone against her chest. “Did you follow me here, kid?”

“No. This is dad’s ice cream shop.” A smack of her bubblegum fills the air, twirling her finger against the straps of her backpack. “…I just saw you here and I thought it was destiny.”

“It’s not destiny.” She speaks, curt and clear. “And also, I’m not the woman you’re looking for. Sorry.”

“You’re in all his pictures from the past—”

“We were friends.” And she doesn’t know why she’s explaining this to a teenager, instead of actually calling her father and telling him that her daughter is batshit crazy. “And it’s none of your business, ain’t it? If you really like a celebrity, you need to learn how to respect their privacy.”

“Everyone is looking for his Valentine, and if I am right with my assumptions, we’ll finally get to know—”

“What do you earn from it?” Turning around, she spares one glance at Mingyu and Jade, with Mingyu looking at them with a frown on their features. Confusion, definitely. “Whoever it is, that’s the drummer’s issue.”

“It’s you! It’s so you!” The teenager says, a smile on her face as she jumps on her spot. “The blog’s so gonna love this!”

Grasping her hand with force on top of the teenager’s, she sighs deeply. “Don’t do that. That’s wrong.” She starts, eyes raking over the room before clearing her throat. “One day, you’re going to be older, and you’re going to realize those people you look up to are as normal as you are. You don’t need to make them more important than they already are, for you or for anyone. Don’t let being a fan of someone take over your life.”

The teen looks down at their joined hands, eyelashes fluttering with the heavy mascara, chest going up and down with each breath she takes, deeper than the last. “Okay, sorry…” She whispers, pulling away from her. “I must’ve gotten it wrong.”

“Don’t worry, I was also a fan of some people in my time.” She shrugs, returning her gaze to her friends to give them a tight smile. Everything’s alright. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Alright, thank you.”

The problem is that only that night when she gets home, Minghao links her straight to an article, written fresh from the oven and reading:

Forty Women (+1 Unexpected Guest) That Can Be The Inspiration Behind Love’s Midnight’s Valentine!

Scrolling down with shaking fingertips, she prays to the heaven for her to not be in that list—for it to be another rumor, another person that has been wanting to be thought of by Jeon Wonwoo, but once she reaches spot number forty-one, her heart feels like it has fallen out of her chest.

Her name is on the forty-first spot.

41. Podcast Host, Communication Major, Music Minor: This one is the most unexpected, yet the newest guess. Fans were able to compile pictures of two or three years ago of Jeon Wonwoo and this podcast host. Not only that, but she seemed to be close friends with Vernon, Love and Andy! Ouch!

Personal pictures were attached under the small paragraph, tugging at her heart strings.

Isn’t that the pink dress Wonwoo always talked about? Or could it be Song Eunji’s favorite color?

As if things couldn’t get any harder…

###

This is Eunkyung’s little dream. Her tea party filled with reporters, cameras, flashes, cigarettes and bodyguards. Everyone says that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger—and he feels like he has become a weightlifter with how much he has coped with, leaning back on his seat as the reporters in front of them beg to eat them alive. Each question pointier than the other, each silence dragging on for longer than the last. The center of attention is not the album, not Hoshi’s guitar solos or Vernon’s enigmatic bass skills. The center of attention is that Jeon Wonwoo had fallen in love, and couldn’t seem to get his old lover back.

His friends are different, and so is he. It should make him feel better that the evolution is ever-present in their lives, but it isn’t. The man he sees projected on the glass of water in front of him is exactly who he would’ve never thought he’d become. His black hair is pushed away, forehead is full display, not a single imperfection left for the world to see as he’s covered in makeup. The red leather jacket makes him sweaty, but he still wears it. It’s a gift from Versace and there’s only two of them in the entire world; he just has to wear it, according to his stylist.

One of the reporters stands up from his seat, fixing the blue sweater atop his toned body. The long strands of his black hair give him a bohemian look, but the preppy outfit and the glasses make him look somewhat nerdy. He could definitely be a reporter in music, but Wonwoo doesn’t really give a shit, does he?

“Wonwoo, excuse me—” The man starts, voice as nasal as ever as he brings his recorder up to his lips. “Forty-one women have been linked to be your muse for the latest album, but only one of them stands out.” He already knows the answer. Song Eunji. If rolling his eyes was an option, he’d do it, but he’s been staring at the cameras flashing for too long and his eyes feel like they may give up on him at any moment.

“Sorry, uh, we said no questions about that.” Wonwoo leans forward on his microphone, offering a brief smile in order to keep it at peace. The least he wants is drama for being an absolute diva.

The reporter doesn’t listen, calling out her name as if he knew her. As if they had shared cups of coffee, mornings where conversations merged into memories, nights in which her tears couldn’t be stopped with memories of either really good or really bad times. “…Podcast host and communication graduate, whose connection with you was clarified by your fans after finding pictures from two years ago, seemingly in a relationship with you.”

Fuck.

Where was his publicist when he needed her the most?

He didn’t know that his fans were able to find such things. Each trace of his past with her had been deleted—for the sake of his band, and for the sake of forgetting her. “I won’t make any statements.”

“So, you do admit that you were in a relationship with her?”

“I said,” He presses his lips to the microphone, lifting his eyebrows in the process. “No statements. Meaning, no comment.”

“Ignoring my question is a confirmation, Wonwoo.”

This time around, Vernon is the one who takes place in the interview. “Ignoring his complaints about not wanting to answer is a confirmation of your lack of knowledge in reporting, sir.”

The masses in front of them go crazy, each asking questions louder than the last, penetrating his ears with absolute hatred. Wonwoo stumbles backwards by the time his body leaves his seat, shaking his head when his manager tries to reach out for him, make him sit down before he absolutely ruins his career. Yet, the only person he can think about is her. His fans had found her, the reporters knew about her, too. A life void of privacy simply because of him.

Once backstage, his shoulders tense, cradling his phone in between his hands and bringing it up to his ear. The phone rings a few times, but she always hangs up. Each and every call is ignored exactly in its beginning.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I didn’t tell anyone about us.

Tell me you’re alright, please.

Please, answer the phone.

Are you okay?

Why aren’t you answering?

I’m sorry for everything.

Regret bites at him, slices him to bits as he sits down on the sofa, hearing the commotion outside and yet, doing nothing to conceal it. Love would hate him for this, tension rising between them ever since he became the center of attention—but he never asked for this. If he could take it back to the time in which he had her, and Love’s Midnight only played small gigs in some bars downtown, he would.

And he’s been meaning to.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I know you didn’t tell anyone.

I’m alright.

I just need time to think of what I’m going to do.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I could book a hotel for you so you feel safer.

Paparazzi are going to look for you.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I’m staying at Minghao’s, don’t worry.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

Fine, but take care of yourself.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo?

He can imagine her, calling out his name softly as if she had never left him, as if everything was alright—

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

Tell me.

To: Jeon Wonwoo.

I need you to take care, as well.

I don’t want you to stress out over this.

From: Jeon Wonwoo.

I’ll take care, baby.

Before he could regret what he said last, she left him on read. As if she had heard him too, but decided not to listen.

###  

The only beverage Minghao’s going to give her while staying at his place is lukewarm tea with honey. No matter how hard she tries to get him to give her coffee, it doesn’t happen.

The cars pass by the windows, stuffed by her breath that fans upon the clear glass. Her heart can’t stay still, much like her hands, fiddling against the other, waiting for the bad news. They have arrived—the world knows her, and past the comfort of Minghao’s place, she knows there are cameras flashing in front of her house. They had captured her before she got here, and after endless twists from Minghao, they managed to get to his apartment safe, sound and unnoticed.

Each and every insecurity is highlighted by the cameras. The fact that there had been someone else after her mocks her—tells her that people are just going to end up comparing her to those after her, or even before her. Ghosts that never existed in Wonwoo’s life, too. Some may be taller, some more petite. Some may have a clearer tone of voice, others may be unable to speak in anything other than profanities. Some may kill it on the guitar, and some may kill for a guitar. Everyone in Wonwoo’s life has been so different and yet, she’s the only one with an entire album written about her.

It’s winning the feeling of feeling unique that makes her feel less like shit. Wonwoo cared enough about her to write a million apologies in the form of notes, for him to pour his entire heart out in a guitar, a set of drums, a piano, a voice, the bass—all inspired by her, they rotate around her like the constellations around the universe. The smile she misses had dissipated with the memories of them, and she wants to bring them back. Fuck two years, more than six hundred days, because time is just a concept we don’t understand.

“Hey,” Minghao’s hair is not disheveled, put-together like he’s about to go over the runway with the newest pajama collection from, probably, Louis Vuitton. His body leans against the doorframe, wood against his soft skin, looking at her with worry as she sits on the bed of the room in Minghao’s apartment that he doesn’t use. “There has to be some good to this.”

“Yeah?” She asks, tilting her head far enough for her forehead to rest against the window. “Tell me what it is.”

The tech moves closer until he is in front of her, delicately kneeling in front of her before patting her leg. “This could bring potential listeners to our podcast—”

“Or girls that will hate me because I’m dating their rocker fantasy. Minghao, get real.” Her voice isn’t meant to sound so sharp, but it does. Her world shatters while Minghao can only see from up close, first row, even.

“Don’t think about them. Think about you.”

“What am I supposed to think about?”

“What you want out of this. If this is only a sign from the world to just get in contact with Wonwoo and clear things up. His career, yours, your relationship—” Minghao is speaking too fast, fingers fiddling with his own hair before sighing. “And if you’re not going to do it, I am. I can’t keep seeing you haltering your life because a relationship didn’t work. You are the one that needs to get real.”

She pushes his hand away then, crossing her arms over her chest to shelter herself. “Well, hear me out, you haven’t been in love, but I have. It’s damn fucking annoying when it doesn’t work, and you think that’s the only man that will ever get you, know you, feel you like he does. It’s not the same when you imagined your entire life with a man and he’s suddenly taken away from you. He changes. Twists. He’s not the same anymore, but you know that deep within him, there’s that man you love.” Her chest shakes with every breath she takes, and Minghao takes this time to step away from her. “And you wait for him. Wait for the day he realizes that you never meant to make him feel bad, and hope that he never meant to say the words he said to you. You don’t know what regret is, but I do—”

“Just mend it.”

She wishes it could be that easy. “And then, what?”

“Why do you always have to think about the future?” Her eyes inspect Minghao’s features, as if pulling away every thread of his enigma.

“Because the future is always happier than the present, ain’t it?”

His hand hovers over her shoulder, as if he wants to touch her, shelter her, but he doesn’t. Instead, Minghao smacks his hand against his side, looking for his phone before speaking up. “It’s up to us to make our present happy, too.”

The only response he gets is the sound of her sipping on her tea. Bland tea that Minghao loves, but doesn’t keep him in the room as he closes the door behind him with a thud.

For some moments, she can only look ahead. The cameras follow her, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she closes her eyes, only to awaken to the world trying to get information about her—a picture where something sags in her body, or her pimples are visible, or the stress marks around her face become wrinkles. However, even sleep seems to be out of town today, and she can’t do much but watch some movies on TV. Let the world decide for her again. The Notebook. Then, she couldn’t quite look at the screen without tears on her face.

When sleep welcomes her, it doesn’t stay for long.

It’s like the culprit that opens the door to the room, closing it behind him with an accidental bang—like the way he left. When her eyes can finally clearly see the outline of him in the dark, Wonwoo becomes a living being after years of trying to erase him. Dark hair pushed away from his face thanks to the droplets of rain that had coated both his leather jacket and his black t-shirt. His boots squeak against the flooring when he moves, stopping whatever force brings him closer to her. Eddie The Eagle plays in the background, but no star has ever been as bright as him. As the twinkle in his eyes when he breathes out his name as if he had never forgotten the lullaby in it. As if, for some reason, she’d always have a taste of that tongue and those lips, even when they are nowhere near or over hers.

Proof that love exists beneath him, over him, in him, is when he asks: “Are you alright?”

She could say no, or even just confirm it. Her words could turn into lies or truths, but they decide to stay in between. With him, saying too little or too much is granted to be a loss. “…I could be worse.”

Wonwoo lets the jacket fall on the floor with a thud, and before he could part his lips to say anything else as he nears her, she asks:

“How did you get in?”

“I was hiding in some hotel downtown, when I realized I just couldn’t leave you alone through this.” His voice is gentle, barely above a whisper when the wind keeps blowing on the windows, rain pattering like droplets of paint. “So, I called Minghao, and he told me he’d leave the door open and I just could get in.”

“No one followed you, right?” Worry piles in her expression when mirrored in his starry eyes. The music of their love has lulled to a weak piano tune. They fell, lifted themselves up, only to be pushed to the ground again.

“I made sure no one did.” And the weight of him falls on the edge of the bed, the gray bedsheets wrinkling under his wet presence, leaving an imprint of him. A memory as strong as the ones she holds of him. “I’m sorry this is the way we ended up meeting again.”

Chances, figures in percentages that we don’t expect. We hope for them, and rarely get them. The chance of meeting Wonwoo again was lost thanks to his lack of privacy, but it would a lie if she said she hadn’t been worrying about him all night. In the edge of the bed, biting at her nails, wanting nothing more than to reach out for him.

Who loves you now, Wonwoo?

Who loves you more than I do?

Is it the world? Your fans? Your bandmates? Is it someone else?

Have you been loved at all while I have been gone?

“It had to happen someday,” She whispers into the night, bringing her knees up her chest, taking her coat off and tossing it his way. The cotton material meets his hands quickly, draping it over his body as if the tears that had been dropped in the same garment manage to warm him up. “Not the way I expected it to happen—”

His lips quirk up in a shy smile, shivering with happiness and glee, or perhaps from the coldness of the room. “You expected it to happen?”

It’s her time to shut her mouth for a second, thinking of the next step. “…It’s one of those vague daydreams I have. What would happen if we met again?”

“And what did you think was going to happen?”

“…That I’d try to run away.” She replies, and his smile falls at that moment. Yet, she doesn’t want to lie to him. “But if you got close enough, I’d start thinking of your hands around my waist, or the little kisses you used to press to my hands when you held them, and I wouldn’t be able to keep myself away from you.”

Wonwoo gets closer, like a wanderer trying to land on his preferred island. Swimming through their insecurities, the issues that pulled them away— “I like that.”

“You do?” She asks. “I think I sound stupid.”

“…Love’s like that.” He shrugs. “I took the stupid decision to write an entire album about you, but here’s the thing: I don’t regret it.” His words condense every single bit of coldness inside her chest, letting the tremble of his voice awaken the senses that never left her, loving him to death. “If writing a song about you is a sin, take me to hell.”

Kicking him softly on the leg, she chuckles. “Metaphorical as ever.”

“I like to read.”

“I know, you liked reading more than talking to me.” There, one of the issues of their relationship arises.

“And you don’t know how many books I have wished to un-read just to hear you talking again.” He replies, sighing soon after as he plays with one of the threads of the blanket. “But that’s life. I make bad decisions, they bite me in the ass, and then, I try to mend it.”

“And how are you planning to mend it?”

His arms extend at that moment, taut muscles contracting against the wet shirt. “I offer a hug for the night, if that’s alright.”

She wants to say no, but her body welcomes his embrace, feeling his strong chest pressed against hers, the curve of his spine, the way his scent always seems to be there—so warm, so his, so memorable, and yet, unable to feel as strong as a perfume. It is as though the scent of him drenched in rain makes her feel better, not quite as cold as in that bed alone, even when her skin clads itself in goosebumps. Her heart thumps with so much force that he probably feels it against his waist, in the way he leans back and cocoons her into place. She can’t look at him, just because she knows herself, and she’s one centimeter away from falling.

“It’s what I need.”

“Good.”

Zero point five centimeters away from falling.

Then, his breathing becomes tranquil, and his lips rest atop her hair.

Zero point twenty-five centimeters away from falling…

Zero point seventeen…

Fallen.

###

She knows he is still in that apartment when she hears his fingertips drumming against the counter.

You know, that’s also one of the issues of their relationship…the one they had two years ago. Waking up to the sound of Wonwoo playing whatever ACDC song on their kitchen counter wasn’t a pleasant noise in the past. When she’d go to the bathroom, phone perched in between her fingertips, she’d feel the rhythm thrumming through the tiles, interrupting her precious time of privacy. He’d do it before going to sleep, when bored, when watching a show but on her legs. It’s one of those things she’d ask him to stop doing, but as her eyes open and she comes face to face with the opened door, she feels safe.

Because Wonwoo is there, and that’s more than she could ask at this moment where her name is imprinted in every magazine. Her hand looks for her phone, and for a moment, she wants to stop. God knows what most of the pages she follows on her Instagram page must have written about her—gossip sites that she is not proud of following, but does it to have topics to talk about in her podcast. Whatever. She’s a nobody, there is surely one or two things about her—

But when the light of her phone casts down on her with horrid pictures of her going through the seas of paparazzi to get out of there as soon as possible, she feels shallow.

She’s not a podcast host.

Not Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend.

But Song Eunji’s rival.

Comparisons, one after the other, from physical appearance to the ultimate statement coming directly from Eunji. Some messages that could be understood as a simple song lyric, if it wasn’t from Wonwoo’s song itself, displayed on a throwback picture of the two of them. Finished, with of course, as much class as the model can have on an apparent drunken night, when she writes down on her caption—

Shout out to the man who writes an entire album about me and yet, can’t last more than four minutes in bed. Love you, Woo.

The laughing emojis after surely don’t settle well in her stomach.

She has to put the phone to the side to think about what bothers her—Wonwoo being with Eunji could be it, but it could also be Eunji taking the spotlight that does it. Maybe, it’s just the fact that she’s involved in all of this, covers thrown away from her body as she goes towards the kitchen, only to watch her best friend and ex-boyfriend seated face to face. Minghao, peacefully drinking from a cup of warm tea, and Wonwoo making conversation as he plays whatever difficult song he can’t seem to get out of his head.

It’s the fact that she hates it—this feeling that tells her she’s proud of being his muse, but in secret. It’s the fact that, all this time, she’d rather have him than anyone else—words be forgotten, actions be damned, only at this moment when his eyes meet hers again, and he dares say:

“Good morning. Slept well?”

How not to think of the fact that, after pushing him to the bathroom to get him to change into warmer, drier clothes from Minghao’s closet, she ended up falling sleep on his arms? That being in silence felt comfortable when around him? That healing is not quite complete when she can’t have him?

“Better than I expected.” She whispers, moving over until she is closer to him, inspecting his features before breathing out softly. “Eunji said the album is about her. People are going crazy over it.”

Wonwoo’s features soften for a second, head thrown back when a groan escapes his lips. “It’s not—”

“I need you to tell me why you wrote an entire album about me.” Her eyes don’t close, honesty overtaking her when her hands ball to her sides, breathing controlled, world stopping just for her to listen to him.

Wonwoo’s brown eyes shake, looking over to Minghao as the dullest shade of pink takes over his face, bathing him in an enchanting glow. “To forget about you,” He says, though he laughs at his antics a bit soon after. “Didn’t work out.”

“Why did you want to forget about me?”

“I thought you’d never come back.”

“And did you want me to come back?”

“From the moment you left that hotel room.”

“Why?”

“…I’m going to leave.” Minghao announces softly, already parting ways to go to his room with his mug of tea, but she can’t keep her eyes away from Wonwoo much longer. The question lingers in the air, just in time for him to connect his hands with hers.

“Why, Wonwoo? Why write about me, think about me, when you could’ve just let go?”

“It’s not that easy when it’s about you.” He says, a small smile playing on his features when he pulls her closer, not all at once but step by step. Slowly, she falls in between his legs, looks into his eyes when he lets sincerity live within his words. “I got everything I could ever wish for, and I still wanted you.”

“…Oh, God.” Her smile can’t hide itself when she wraps her arms around his shoulders, head resting on his chest as she chuckles. “Why do I like that so much?”

“Maybe, because you wanted me back, too?” The hope lingers on his voice, and she has to pull away for a second, looking up and down his features as she licks his lips.

“Let’s fix this entire mess first.”

“I’ll deny you are my album’s muse if that makes you feel better.”

For a moment, she feels the weight falling off her shoulders, but instead, she perks up, spine straightening when she says: “And why not confirm it instead?”

“Would you want to? This world I live in, it’s not good—”

“If I have to confirm a past relationship just to have you again, I will. I would.”

“…I won’t do that to you.” Wonwoo whispers, lips pressing to her knuckles like they used to at the earliest stages of their relationship. “You know what I want to do? Mend the lost time with you. Think and heal together. Talk to each other. I don’t want anyone else but us having a say on what we are…not stardom, not the band, not anyone.”

When she looks into his eyes, it feels like the old Wonwoo is back. Not the rockstar drummer that everyone has fallen for, but Jeon Wonwoo who’d laugh at the idea of ever being famous.

And it’s nice to think the world is different today, that they’re alone and there are not a thousand pictures of her online.

“Let them talk,” He finishes. “The only person I want to listen to is you, anyways.”

An avenue of tears has welcomed a sweet lake, and when she has seen her reflection in the water, she captures Wonwoo’s figure beside her. Maybe, they can get through this together. Perhaps, music united them, separated them, and now it has brought them back together again.

That’s the magic of love, isn’t it? Trusting again.

“…And you’ll hear me talk a lot about the past two years, Jeon Wonwoo.”

With a smile, he answers. “And I’ll gladly listen.”

Though, the only sound she gets to hear is the small intake of breath from his lips when she leans forward and tastes the early morning cigarettes in him. Everything she has ever wanted exists in him, so imperfect and yet, so fitting for her.

#wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #wonwoo au #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #drummer!au #yea i wrote about wonwoo bc whenever i have wifi i have binge watched gose lemme be #also SUPER inspired by one of those ask games i did and hehehehehe i'm excited

[getyouasenju]

Dragging It In.

Part 3/3 to the “Dragging” series

Part 1 “Dragging Along”

Part 2 “Dragging Away”

Warnings: some small spoilers, curse words, some suggestive themes, angst, (maybe some spelling errors I’m sorry!).

Word Count: 3.7k

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“(Y/N)”

I could hear my name being called from my slumber. I felt sore all over, my head was throbbing and my throat was entirely too dry to function. Being a shinobi I was no stranger to the scratchy unbelievably tightly tucked sheets and the sterile smell. I was in a hospital for what ever reason. I hear my name being softly called again. Forcing my sore eyes open I see my pink haired friend peering over my bed. Scrunching my eyes in reaction the sudden change of lighting caused a searing pain in my head. Crossing her arms and glaring at me, Sakura spoke sarcastically, “It hurts doesn’t it? That’s what happens when you leave a head injury untreated after a mission”. My eyes widen and I stared at her cheekily. She smiled sweetly back at me... too sweet for the friend I know. I didn’t even get a chance to brace myself before she struck me.

“CHA!”

I hiss and grab my now stinging shoulder. “God damn it Sakura, I’m in a hospital bed for fucks sake! Do you strike all your patients?” She crossed her arms and smiled at me, “Only the ones I’m best friends with that promise to see me in the morning to get checked out and then never show up! I mean come on (Y/N), how hard of a hit did you take on that mission to have to put you out of commission like this?” I thought back to the rainy mission and sighed, rubbing my shoulder I looked at my friend “Not that hard... only hard enough to lose consciousness..” grinning I laughed nervously as she started balling her fist again.

“Hey! you can’t hit me again, I have a head injury Sakura- god!” I cried out bracing myself this time. “That shoulder looks pretty fine to me!” Sakura replies brushing some of her hair out of her face. “Not-uh it’s pretty bruised now if you ask me.” I whined back, praying she doesn’t strike again. Can I get a new nurse that isn’t my worried friend? “That’s why you have two shoulders!” I paled as my eyes widened. “Sakura, please!” She quickly put one hand on her hip, the other pointing at me “Don’t Sakura me! You could’ve done some real damage (Y/N)! and don’t think I don’t see that your ring is missing!” So all of our friends are just gonna get dragged into this mess huh? .... Maybe I should just simply pass out again.

Between our bickering the door croaked open and in walks the shadow man. Sakura whips around placing her hands on her hips. “Excuse me Shikamaru, It’s not visitors hours yet, you just can’t waltz in here anytime you like, fiancé’s included!” I scoffed laying back and tugging the blankets further up my body. Didn’t just mention she noticed the missing ring? I already told him I didn’t want to speak with him... and he still smelled like cigarettes! This was a hospital, he’s gonna give someone an asthma attack. I turned my head to fully examine the Nara. He looked as bad as I felt, dark circles an unbuttoned vest and a loosened ponytail. As he should!

Sighing deeply while still holding the door handle, Shikamaru looks at Sakura pleading with his eyes. Taking her hands off her hips, Sakura looks at me then back at Shikamaru, I could see the gears turning in her head. Crossing her arms and sighing, “Just this once Nara! I’ll be back later (Y/N), I’ll bring an ice pack for that shoulder!” She laughs while giving my hand a friendly squeeze. Giving me her signature smile, she departs waving at Shikamaru on the way out.

As he watches her close the door, he turns to the right and grabs the chair in the corner. The sound of the dragging was highly irritating and I rolled my eyes as I fought the urge to pull the blankets over my head and just ignore the man. He pulls the chair to my bedside and sits down trying to make eye contact with me andI was refusing to give it to him. Sighing again he leaned back in the chair. 

“You had some head injuries, you should be fine but you should’ve went to the hospital immediately after that mission, and that fall made it worse.” He sounded strained. I just nodded at him, thinking back to the mission and how outnumbered my team was. “You know, I was terrified when you went down like that.” He let out a shaky sigh putting his hands together in his lap. “Why didn’t you go in (Y/N)- god” He drags his hands down his face, “Are you doing this to spite me? Not going to be seen, then going and asking for a dangerous mission. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I sat up straight in my bed and finally made the eye contact that he was searching for. 

“I went home first because I missed you, I hadn’t seen you in over a fucking month!” letting out a humorless laugh I continued, “I didn’t avoid being seen to spite you, I went home first instead of being seen because you’re my first priority- but apparently I wasn’t yours.” Asking for that mission though was just a tad bit spiteful though, but I’m in no position to admit to that! By the end of my rant I wanted him out, I was tempted to hit the call button. I could feel the anger in the air from both of us. He broke the silence first. “You should trust me, you know nothing would ever happen between Temari and I, I’m with you, I’ve been with you for the last four fucking years!” I was livid, trust him? I do fucking trust him!

“I trust you Shikamaru, you don’t trust me because if you trusted me, you would’ve told me why you went to see her and you wouldn’t of left without making things right with me first.” He reaches for my hand, but I snatched it away shoving it under the blankets, he looked so crestfallen. He opens and closes his mouth several times before scooting his chair closer to my bed.

“Please give me your hand, (Y/N). Please don’t make me beg.”

I was hesitant, I didn’t know if I wanted to be touched by him at the moment but, he looked determined and I was nervous. I pulled my hand from under the blanket and he quickly reached for it. Grabbing my smaller hand in his larger calloused one, he let out a content sigh slowly rubbing circles on the back of my hand, moving almost impossibly slower when grazing over the bare left ring finger. “What do I have to do to get this ring back where it belongs.”

“Shikamaru I question your IQ everyday, don’t play stupid with me.”

I slowly start to retract my hand but his grip on me tightens ever so slightly. “I already have a head injury, can you stop making my brain hurt more? Either tell me why you ran to her side or let me and my hand go. Now.” I groaned out, I was getting annoyed, and fast. When was Sakura coming back with that ice pack again? The pain in my shoulder was dull now, but boy can that girl pack a punch and Shikamaru might as well be punching me in my brain right now.

When he suddenly let go of my hand, my heart started to race. Was he going to leave again? If he left me again then I knew for sure that we just weren’t meant to be. I laid back, I just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. More so, I want him to stop dragging this out. I opened my mouth to dismiss him when he suddenly spoke “Rasa”.

...Rasa, the fourth Kazekage. Also the father of the sand siblings, but what about him. I was just outright confused now. “Shikamaru, can you elaborate?” He straightened up looking for that eye contact again, this time I granted it to him. “It was the anniversary of Rasa’s death” grabbing for my hand again he continued. “Temari is here on the account of business between the leaf and the sand. This is the first time she wasn’t with Gaara and Kankuro during this time.” he sighed deeply. 

“He wasn’t always the best father but he was all they had, not being with her siblings for this affected her deeply. She’s the eldest and her siblings mean everything to her, they always have, she wants them to be able to depend on her. I’m the person she’s closest to in the leaf, so she called me.” he finished. Now I was even more confused. Why didn’t he just say that? “So you left me without explanation for what? You couldn’t just say this to me?”.

“I didn’t think you would understand.” I was baffled. He thought of all people that I wouldn’t understand. “You didn’t think I would understand, or is it that you didn’t want me to understand, Shikamaru.” I snatch my hand back again, this time for good. “I watched you mourn for your father after the war. You held it together on the field but I saw what it did to you after!” I rushed the words out so fast I felt like I was running out of breath but I went on, “I held Yoshino as she cried, I saw what it did to her, how it drained her, how it almost ruined her!” My head was throbbing again but I wasn’t done yet. “Tell me Shikamaru, did you run into my parents on the way here? how about someone from my clan, some siblings of mine? Please tell me they came to see me in my time of need Shikamaru!” I let out a pitiful laugh, “It’d be a miracle if you did, considering they’re all six feet under.” I let my shoulders drop as I leaned back staring straight ahead of me. There had to be more to it than this.

In a small voice I whispered to him, “You don’t think I have it in my heart to let someone who has experienced a loss have some comfort?”. I wanted to cry, more importantly I wanted him gone, at least my head did. He said nothing, but he doesn’t get to sit at my bedside in silence after this. I spoke again, still looking straight ahead, “Get out Shikamaru. You have my permission to leave this time, I won’t be mad. You’re giving me a migraine,” He still doesn’t move, so I whip my head around, I was tired. “Why are you pretending to fight so hard for us? Just admit you’re not as in love with me as you think you are”. I could hear my own heartbeat as I looked at Shikamaru. “It’s okay If you’re in love with Temari, I’ll be fine Shika. You can let me go.” If I had to let him go for his happiness, I was okay with that. He finally snaps his eyes me.

“I’m not in love with Temari, (Y/N).” How can he sit here and be so fucking vague with me? I felt not only emotionally exposed but physically as well with the tiny hospital gown. I wrap my arms around myself since I was the only comfort I’ve had these past few days. “There’s something there , I just wish you would be honest with me. If you’re not happy with me, then just let me go.” I was speaking as softly as I could, trying best to keep my voice from shaking. What kind of person did he think I was if he thought I lacked that much sympathy? I was a shinobi, but I wasn’t heartless. I at the very least expected him to know that.

“Temari will always have a spot in my heart,”

There it was, I didn’t want to hear anymore of it. when I said let me go, I didn’t mean give me a speech to verbally break my heart, he could easily just leave the room. Did he think I was going to listen to his confessions? wrong! I reach my hand out for the call button, if Sakura wasn’t coming back anytime soon, then someone else needed to come and rescue me, immediately. I felt his warm hand gently grab mine. “no more running, no more arguing, no more beating around the bush. Just you and I.” he sighed as he looked right into my eyes. He stands up and nudges me, signaling for me to scoot over giving him a spot on the bed. I felt conflicted, I really did love this man. We’ve shared our love and our lives for four years, but even before that I loved him. He could sense my hesitation and smoothes my hair down gently with his hand while gently nudging me over again. I give into the raven haired man and slowly slid to the right side of the bed making sure my IV’s were out of his way, the motion causing the back of my gown to open a bit to which I quickly pulled closed.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before” He smirked at me. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I ball the blanket in my hands. This isn’t the time for cheeky jokes! I was flustered and honestly feeling pretty vulnerable. His chuckle wasn’t helping the situation too much either. How dare he joke with me at a time like this! My shoulder was still throbbing but that didn’t stop me from attempting to smack the man. I winced as my hand hit something hard and glared at Shikamaru. Looking at me warily, he pulled out the pack of cigarettes and rubbed the back of his neck “You know I smoke when I’m stressed.” I remember when he picked up the nasty habit, and then I remembered why he did. I felt immediately guilty for contributing to that... but still the smell of cigarettes was just so gross. 

He leans back, slowly starting to snake his arm around my waist while watching my facial expressions for a reaction. When he saw me make no attempt to remove him, he sighed and pulled my body into his. “I missed you.” he quietly tells me... funny how he misses me, but me missing him is what got us into this entire situation. I decide to keep my thoughts to myself and train my eyes on the corner of the blanket I was currently picking at. I could feel him staring at me. 

“I remember when Asuma died.” My breath caught in my throat and I immediately dropped the blanket I was picking at. I didn’t know where this was going, but I knew it was going to be a painful ride. I felt him tilt his head as he continued, “I held it in for a long time. It took my father to pull it out of me.” I knew the story, I wasn’t too close with Shikamaru at the time, but a bond between a student and their sensei is strong. I didn’t have to know them, to know that. “Point of the story is I didn’t feel comfort in anyone... so I held it in, I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. I didn’t want anyone to coddle me, not even Temari and at that point in time, I was in love with her. I think I’ve only ever cried twice in my life in front of an audience.” He let out a sigh. By now I was fully looking up at him with curious eyes.

“When my father died in the war, I wanted to do the same. I held that pain in for my comrades, I didn’t want my fathers, nor Ino’s, deaths to be in vain.” He takes his other hand and grips my chin continuing on. “When the war was over I didn’t want to face it, but I had you. If it weren’t for you and Naruto, I don’t know how my mother would’ve made it another day.” He starts to smile a bit at me, “and suddenly I wanted to be coddled. I wanted you to hold me, to talk to me, to force me to eat when I didn’t want to, to be there when I slept and when I woke. I found comfort in you, and I still do.” He was stroking my cheek by now. “You made me realize that sometimes, It’s okay to coddle those in need. That sometimes even the strongest shinobi need a hug, need to shed some tears or just simply need some comfort. So, yes I went to comfort Temari but that was it, I finally understood how to give what you give me everyday.” 

He moved me almost impossibly closer to him “I was a fool to think the most comforting woman in the world wouldn’t understand grief when she has had a handful of it herself.” By the end of his speech my head injury was long forgotten, I had an aching heart. “I can’t believe I let the most important person in my life down. The person who gives me the most security asked for just a bit of it and I refused it to give it to her like an idiot.”

“Please hear me when I say this, there was a time in my life where I thought Temari and I were meant to be, but I know there is a lifetime where you and I belong together. You are it for me, nothing happened.” He tilted my head, searching my face for a reaction when the first tear ran down my face. Shikamaru was taken back and seemed a little panicky at the sight of me crying. I’d have to be heartless to not shed a tear for that confession, this man was everything I’ve ever wanted and I’d be lost- I’d been lost without him.

I reach arms up and around his neck as he brushes the tears from my eyes. “Shikamaru please don’t scare me like that ever again, I won’t make it to the wedding day if I die of a heart attack.” Burying my face into his shoulder, I ignore the smell of cigarettes. I could feel him release a breath of air at my proclamation, squeezing me tighter in return. Suddenly he’s pushing me off and scrambling off the bed, but I didn’t understand. I thought we were making up and there he goes running off again! “Shika, didn’t I just tell you not to scare me again? Hey! get back over here!” I told him slightly out of breath from the change in position and pouting.

I had put myself in an upright position watching as he frantically searched through his pockets with his back to me. Sighing in relief as he finally found what he was looking for, he quickly turned back to me and dropped to his knee. My ring! “(Y/N), please don’t ever make me take this ring back again, I don’t know if my heart could take it. Will you please be my fiancée again?” He was proposing to me again! I quickly nod my head shoving my bare ring finger in the cloud gazing man’s face as he returned it back to its rightful spot and we sealed it with a kiss. A knock at the door separated us.

Sakura came in pushing a cart, “Just coming by to change (Y/N)’s IV dressing!” Shikamaru takes a step back, taking a seat in the chair by my bedside as Sakura moves in close. Gently grabbing my hand, she started changing the IV dressing, of course it was the left one. I could feel her smirking at my hand. “That’s a nice ring there (Y/N), is it new!?” the medical genius teased me snickering. She knew we would make up. I couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Yeah, Shikamaru just gave it to me, isn’t it cute?” I joked back. letting out a complete and full laugh now, the pink haired woman agreed while Shikamaru face palmed. “Who knew you’d be able to get two proposals out of this lazy one!” Shikamaru was full on groaning at this point.

Another knock on the door lead to a huge bouquet with some legs poking out from under it! Ino! “I didn’t know which arrangement you’d like best so I decided to bring you all of them!” Ino was the sweetest girl and I was grateful that Shikamaru had brought us together. “Here Shikamaru, hold these!” Ino drops the bouquet into the Nara’s lap and moved to hug Sakura and then me. Another loud groan was released from the shadow man. “Was all of this really necessary Ino? (Y/N) is getting discharged tomorrow.” Shikamaru complains holding onto the heavy arrangements.

“Get used to looking at arrangements Shika! You’ll get your fair share when we’re planning our wedding.” I smirk and wink at my fiancé dearest as the two women shriek and join hands. “You’re starting the wedding planning?!” Sakura says dreamily as I nod, “Yep, want to start my lifetime with that one soon”. I reply smirking at my soon to be husband. “About time! I’m on flower duty!” Ino proclaims. I just nod my head in agreement, stuck in a staring contest with Shikamaru.

“How troublesome... you two are going to turn my girlfriend into a bridezilla.” He smirks and lets out his typical sigh.

“Not-uh, I’m not your girlfriend Shikamaru, I’m your fiancée, remember?” Using his own line on him I giggled. We smiled so hard at each other that I swore my cheeks were going to cave in.

“How about a spring wedding?!” Sakura shrieks, “With roses!” Ino excitedly adds.

I was so grateful for everyone in that room, and I couldn’t wait to drag Shikamaru back into our home where we belonged, together.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹

The Final part of the “Dragging” series guys! I’m still new and learning so Imma just apologize If you hated it lolll. Not sure if I’ll do anything else with this series, I might do a different series! feel free to message me!

Until Next Time! xxo (▰∀◕)ﾉ

#naruto imagine #naruto imagines #shikamara nara #shika #shikamaru #angst #shikamaru angst #shikamaru nara angst #shikamaru angst imagines #shikamaru nara imagine #shikamaru nara imagines #shikamaru Imagine #naruto angst #anime #anime imagine #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru x y/n

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In the Neighbourhood

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, very lightly edited

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After your grandmother breaks her hip, you volunteer to look after her as she recovers but her neighbour is a bit too friendly.

Note: @lokislastlove​ thinks I won’t call her out anymore but I’m calling her out and you should too. Always blame her.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your grandmother’s house never changed. Nestled between two larger homes and with grass as green as the next, it was as perfect as any along the suburban sprawl. Inside, the same framed pictures of your mother and your aunt and uncle, those of you, your siblings, and your cousins, and family members you only saw at reunions. All of them far away. All of them keeping her company only in the still images. None of them coming to care for her; none but you.

You didn’t mind so much. With two degrees under your belt, you were ready to start your novel as you pondered a third. Your online transcription job was easy enough to travel with and you loved your grandmother. The least you could do was help her out in her recovery. A broken hip but otherwise okay. She couldn’t do much from her wheelchair and you feared a worse injury if she tried.

You moved in on a Sunday. The family next door, the Barbers, were the perfect picture of a suburban clan. Andy introduced himself and his wife, Laurie, and their quiet son, Jacob. Then they asked if your grandmother, Lucille, was coming to their barbecue that afternoon and invited you along with her. Your grandmother confirmed that she didn’t want to miss out on Laurie’s potato salad because she’d tripped on a rug.

So you wheeled her over, careful as the grass slowed the chair, and you angled her through the open gate. You seemed to be the last to arrive. The air smelled of searing beef and swirled with the buzz of voices. You stood behind your grandmother’s chair as you looked around nervously and a plump woman with short curly white hair approached.

“Darla!” You grandmother greeted. “You’re back from your little getaway.”

“Arn was keen to come home,” The woman smiled up at you and back to your grandmother. “I heard you had a bit of an incident.”

“Oh, still spry, but the damn doctor has me ‘takin’ it easy’,” You grandma sneered. “I’ll be up at it before long. This is my granddaughter, you remember her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Darla smiled though you barely remembered her. “So sweet of you to come down to look after our Lucille.”

“It’s nothing,” You said. “I owe her. I spent too many holidays on campus.”

“That you did,” Your grandmother chided. “But do go on and socialise, dear. There must be someone here your own age. Or closer to. You can’t be lettin’ yourself get caught up with us old biddies.”

“I’m fine,” You chuckled. “Really.”

“You go. Get something to drink.” You grandmother snapped her fingers. “Mingle!”

You huffed but left her with Darla and another woman, you were certain her name was Betty, passed you on her way to join them. You looked around. The wives were in their clusters and the men drank from brown bottles as they laughed and talked about sports. You didn’t know about children or baseball. 

You went to the end of the table, just by the barbecue, a cooler open and waited as a young boy claimed a can of Orange Crush. You reached inside and took out a grape soda. The lid of the barbecue closed and you turned to face its master; Andy smiled as you blinked at him.

“That’s the kid’s cooler,” He said. “There’s a mini fridge in the garage if you want something stronger.”

“I’m good with this,” You cracked the can. 

“I thought you were a college girl,” He said as he set down his long spatula.

“Graduated.” You assured him. “Never was big on the scene though.”

“Really?” He lifted a brow. “I kinda miss it.” He stepped around the barbecue, closer to you. “It was a while ago now but it was fun. You know,” He put his hands on his hips as he looked across the yard. “I was in a frat with Carson over there,” He nodded to skinny man holding a bottle of water amid the sea of brown glass. “We got in quite a bit of trouble. Maybe I wrote a few of my exams drunk but didn’t do much harm.”

“Oh yeah?” You said dully. “What do you do now?”

“Law. Assistant district attorney.” He preened. “But don’t worry, I can still have fun.”

He winked and you squinted at him. He was an old man trying to relate to a youth. There was what, ten, fifteen years between you? Wasn’t that much, really, and yet it was.

“Legal fun,” You suggested.

“Well, the immoral isn’t always illegal,” He mused. “So… Miss Graduate, you have a job lined up?”

“I work online for now but I’m writing, too.” You shrugged. “Nothing fancy but it’ll do for the time being. Until my grandma’s better.”

“That’s a nice thing you’re doing,” He said. “You know, not a lot of people I know my age would drop everything to go care for family.”

“Least I can do,” You sipped from the can. “She always did make the best lemon meringue. It has its perks.”

He chuckled and backed up as he grabbed the spatula again and opened the barbecue.

“Offer stands,” He called over the smoke. “Beer’s in the garage.”

“Thanks,” You smiled and slowly walked away. This was like that party you’d spent hiding on the porch; awkward as hell.

🏡

The first two weeks passed swiftly. You woke up, made breakfast for your grandmother, her usual oatmeal and tea, then you spent a few hours working online, then lunch, an hour of writing, a walk through the neighbourhood, some alone time, dinner, and then some nightly crime dramas with your grandmother. Each day was identical to the last and you felt the vaunted slog of suburban life.

It was Saturday. You needed to get out. Your grandmother even encouraged it. A few hours at the bar, drinking, dancing, you returned with a guy, Gabe, you met there, hushing him as you snuck him in the front door. 

The house was dark as you climbed the stairs carefully and ushered Gabe into your bedroom. You closed the door and grabbed him as you stumbled to the bed. It was messy, hurried, and desperate. Entirely regrettable as you laid staring out the window at the sky after. You didn’t have time to ask him to leave before he started snoring.

You slept for a few hours and woke as the sun began to rise. You poked the stranger you knew as Gabe until he woke up and you threw his clothes at him before you dressed. You peeked into the hall and waved him out behind you. You led him down the stairs and to the front door. He left you with some empty nicety and you hid your wince. It wasn’t your first one night stand but it was definitely the worst.

“Fun night?” You turned as Andy descended the steps of his porch and opened his car door.

“You work on Sundays?” You grumbled. You hoped he hadn’t seen your regret walking away.

“Not usually but I got some hours to make up.” He dropped his briefcase in the back seat and closed the door. “I know that guy. Pretty sure he’s still on probation for the molly he was dealing at the mechanics.”

“Ugh, no.” You covered your face. “You saw?”

“I got a bit curious as I was finishing my coffee.” He pointed to the window with lacy curtains. “Great view just above the sink.”

“So you’re one of those neighbours?” You crossed your arms.

“I seem nosy but really I’m just looking out for you.” He opened the driver’s side door and planted his hand on the roof of the car. “Look, you don’t know the people around here. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I won’t be seeing him again.” You retreated to the door and stopped there. “Boring, to say the least.”

“Heh,” Andy scoffed. “Really?”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside, closing the door with a snap. You went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. “Hey, grandma,” You called as you began to climb. “You ready to get up?”

🏡

At the end of the next week, you took your grandmother to her check up. Her recovery was on track but she had a long way to go. The doctor was optimistic that at her next appointment, she’d be ready to use her walker more often.

As you helped her out of the car and got her settled in her chair, you ignored the roar of the mower in the next yard. You’d seen Andy as you drove up. He was pushing the machine back and forth across his already perfectly manicured yard; shirtless. As you turned to push your grandmother up the walk, you couldn’t help but notice that he was in great shape for his age. For any age, really.

“Hey,” He yelled over the motor and shut it down. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Andy,” Your grandmother chimed. “Great! Doc says I’m doing well.”

“Mmhmm,” You mumbled, still slightly embarrassed over your last interaction with the man.

“Well, seeing as I’m already out here and you already had such a busy day, I could do your lawn while I’m at it?” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and you quickly tore your eyes away from his chest. 

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Your grandma giggled. “It’s so hot out here.”

“I don’t mind,” He insisted. “Laurie’s gone to see her parents with Jacob so I’m just trying to keep myself busy.”

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya?” Your grandmother shook her hand. “Fine! Sweetie,” She reached back and tapped your hand. “Let’s go make some lemonade for this young man so he doesn’t overheat.”

Andy smiled and you nodded at him awkwardly. You wheeled your grandmother up the newly installed ramp and inside. She ordered you to the kitchen and directed you to the lemons hidden in the crisper.

“The juicer is just under there.” She pointed to the cupboard, “And you’ll want to add some sugar.”

“I know how to make lemonade, grandma,” You said as you pulled out the pitcher.

“That Andy’s a nice man,” She said. “So helpful… handsome too. It’s too bad you’re so young… and he’s so married.”

“Stop,” You warned. “You said the same thing about your doctor.”

“Yes, but he’s a doctor. He’s rich.” She snickered. “And not married, just not into your type.”

“Grandma,” You snipped. “Really.”

“I don’t know how your mother ended up with you.” She said. “She was such a little troublemaker.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard,” You said as you washed the lemon juice from your hands and added water and sugar to the pitcher. “I think her stories were more a warning.”

“Too smart for your own good,” She tutted as you mixed the lemonade.

You went to the cupboard and grabbed some ice cubes from the freezer as you set a glass on the counter. You poured the lemonade and gave her a sour look. 

“You think you can look after yourself for a few minutes?” You asked dryly.

“Girlie, I was taking care of you while you were in diapers,” She narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

“I don’t wear diapers,” She hissed as you neared the door. “Yet.”

You went out the front door as Andy pushed the mower across the yard just along the walkway. He stopped and looked over at you. He shut down the motor again and neared you as you came down the steps to hold out the glass. He thanked you and took a big gulp before he handed it back.

“You know, I didn’t mean anything,” He said. “The other day. Sometimes… I say stuff without thinking.”

“It’s… whatever.” You shrugged and set the glass on the rail of the porch. “No hard feelings.”

“I just got a hot tub. Just gotta hook it up and it’s ready to go.” He said. “You should stop by later. Get a soak in.”

“No, I don’t think so.” You stood at the top of the steps. “I don’t wanna leave grandma all alone. She wants to watch Casablanca tonight. I promised we would.”

“Maybe another night.” He offered. “You work so hard. You deserve a break.”

“Maybe,” You said evasively as you turned and crossed the porch. You glanced back as you opened the door and he was still looking at you.

“Lemonade’s good.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

🏡

You finished lunch and left your grandmother to her puzzle at the dining room table. You went upstairs to change the shirt you’d spilled mustard down; it was all you could smell. You tore off your shirt and tossed it on the bed. You rounded the bed to the dresser that sat just below the window and opened the draw. Movement caught your eye and you looked up across the space between yards.

Andy’s eyes met yours through the windows. You’d never realised they were adjacent, let alone so easy to see through. He wore a towel around his waist, freshly showered and his gaze strayed for just a moment. You blanched and pulled out a shirt and covered yourself with it. He smirked and tilted his head. Then he winked and a shiver went through you.

You grabbed the curtain and closed it so forcefully you nearly bent the rod. You backed away and put the shirt on properly. Surely, he was being funny. A tense, awkward moment. What else could he do but make a joke? Well, it wasn’t a very good one.

🏡

You stayed inside for the better part of a week. Aside from your walks with your grandmother and a trip to the grocery store, you kept your curtains closed, and hid yourself away. Maybe you’d built it up in your mind but you were just set off-kilter by the wordless interaction. Since, you felt as though you’d been walking a tightrope, too afraid to look down.

But that night, your grandmother wanted to sit outside. It was warm and the nights were shorter; later. You wheeled her out, a book on her lap, and as you made to skirt back inside, he appeared. Andy had impeccable timing. It made you wonder if he was watching you; if he had been for much longer than you knew. Well, now you were just being paranoid.

“Hey,” He stood at the edge of the yard. “Beautiful night.”

“Sure is,” You grandma replied. “I’ve got a new book and I’m ready to enjoy the breeze.”

“Oh, a new book? What’s it about?” He asked as he neared tentatively.

“Another scary one.” She cracked the cover. “Or so I hear. Skinwalkers taking over a whole city.”

“Ah, spooky,” He commented and looked at you. “And you?”

“Writing. Inside.” You said evenly.

“I figured since it was so nice, I was finally gonna try out my new Jacuzzi,” He said. “I just… I did promise you a soak so I thought maybe--”

“Eh, I don’t know.” You neared the door. “I really should try to get some writing done.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Your grandmother intoned. “You’ve been on that computer all day. You should go, relax.”

“Really, I--”

“Laurie might join us. She’s inside doing some work.” He piped up. “She wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Go on! I’m getting sick of ya anyway,” Your grandmother snorted. “You could stand to loosen up.”

“Grandma,” You huffed.

“Go get changed,” She ordered and smiled at Andy. “She’ll be over shortly.”

You blinked and tried to hide your irritation. You went inside before Andy could notice and you stormed upstairs. You weren’t even sure you’d packed a suit. You searched through the dresser. The curtains were still drawn tight. You found your old pink bikini with the white flowers. Really? It had to be that one?

You changed, reluctantly. It couldn’t have covered less of you. You found a tee shirt and pulled it over. You descended the stairs again and stepped out on the porch.

“Thanks for that, grandma.” You scowled.

“I can see why you were never popular,” She laughed. “Go. Have fun. This old lady can handle herself.”

You stomped down the steps beside the ramp and stopped at the border of the yards. You sighed and went to the gate, it was open in expectation of you. You heard the whir of jets before you entered. Andy was just beside the hot tub, testing the temperature with his hand as you stood across from him. He looked up and gave a crooked smirk.

“Andy,” The back door opened and Laurie appeared. “Oh, hey.” She smiled at you before turning back to her husband. “I’m gonna pass. Gina’s not going to make it in tomorrow so looks like I’ll be up all night.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” Andy said. “More tub for us I guess.”

“Yes, love you too,” She said dryly. “You enjoy yourself. And don’t leave that thing on all night.”

“Yes, honey,” He said before she shut the door. “Love you.”

You swallowed. Your mouth was dry. Maybe you had been a bit presumptuous. Andy climbed into the jacuzzi and lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh. You hesitated to get closer but you did. He watched you, expectantly. You grabbed the edge and tried to will yourself in.

“You’re wearing that?” He nodded to your tee.

“Yeah,” You lifted your leg over the side.

“You don’t gotta be shy,” He grinned.

You paused and frowned at him.

“I’m joking,” He said. “The other day. That was… funny. Bad timing.”

“Mhmm,” You drew your other leg over and carefully sat.

“You met any more cute guys?” He asked suddenly. You squinted.

“What?” 

“Not much to do around here, you know? Pretty boring.”

“No. I don’t--” You sputtered. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Once my grandma’s better, I’ll be going.”

“Still, it’s lonely.” He said softly. 

“What do you care?” You asked, harsher than intended. 

He was quiet. He leaned back and looked over at the house then back to you. He exhaled and spread his arms over the edge.

“So… that toy you hide in your night table? You always use it or you ever just… feel yourself?”

Your heart sank. You felt as if you would choke on air. Had you imagined his words?

“What did you just--”

“Took you long enough to catch on,” He said. “Got a good view of you when I can’t sleep but… not anymore. Too bad.”

“Andy,” You stood and the water splashed around you. “You-- You’re-- Laurie, she--”

“I haven’t fucked her in months. This is what she does.” He sat forward and caught your hand. “She works. All the time. I try and she… just doesn’t want to.”

“Let me go.” You struggled with him. “You’re disgusting. You’re married!”

“Me? Fucking awful some young girl strolls into town and tries to seduce a married man? What would grandma think? And Laurie? She’s not one to sit back and be humiliated.” He tugged on you. “I have a reputation around here. You’re just a stranger, and apparently one, who fucks strangers.”

“What are you talking about?” You nearly slipped as he spun you back to him. “You’ve been watching me and--”

“I’m just a neighbour looking out for you,” He pulled even harder and your feet slid across the bottom of the jacuzzi, forcing you to catch yourself on him. “Like I do all my neighbours. They would confirm as much.”

“Get--” You grabbed his arm as it snaked around you. “Andy! Laurie--”

“Doesn’t give a fuck and if she came out, well, she’d only realise what’s she’s pushed me to.” 

You wriggled as he held you to him. He drew your leg over his so that you straddled his lap. You pushed on his chest and grunted.

“You keep it up and everyone will hear. Even sweet old nana.” He snarled. “I saw you looking at me that day… when you brought me lemonade.”

“No, no,” You rasped.

“I’m old, not that old,” He purred. “As you can obviously see.”

“Let me go. Please.” You begged. He was too strong and your arms only ached from pushing against him. “Andy--”

“Shhh,” He grabbed your chin with his wet hand and pulled you close until your lips almost met his. “In this town, rumours travel. It might be old news that you left a bar with that dumb kid but now, it’s evidence.” His hand slipped down your neck and squeezed. “Such a bad girl.”

“No one would--”

“They have no reason not to believe me,” He rolled up your wet shirt with his other hand. “Annie across the street, she likes gossip. She’s seen you flirting with me, at least that’s how she told it to Laurie but you know, my wife just laughs it off. And now she’s no doubt seen you come into my backyard in just this.” He pulled your shirt higher. “And her mind is going wild.”

“I can’t--”

“How long did he last? A minute? Less?” He snarled and his other hand slipped down to draw your shirt up. You kept your arms down as you tried to resist. “Bet you could wait to use your little toy.”

“Stop,” You pleaded.

“Get your arms up.” His voice was deep and dangerous. “And stop your whining.”

You stopped and stared at him. His blue eyes burned into yours and sent a shiver through you. His fingertips pinched your hips as they crawled under your shirt and he pushed it higher.

“You don’t shut up and someone will hear, sweetie,” He warned. “Up.”

He tugged until you raised your arms. A wave of bile rose in your chest and you let him peel away your wet shirt and reveal the skimpy bikini beneath. He dropped the cotton over the side of the tub and his hands grazed the triangles of your top.

“Cute,” He hummed. “You hiding this from me?”

You were quiet, sickened. With him, with yourself. You knew you couldn’t fight, wouldn’t. You remembered the barbecue and how you’d been the odd one out. Recalled how Andy had talked to almost every person there. Everyone loved him and no one knew you.

“Mmm mm mm,” His fingertips walked around your neck and he picked at the knot behind your neck. The straps loosened and he let your top fall and expose your chest. 

He bent to bury his face against you and nibbled along your tits. You looked, startled, to the back door. It was still shut. A light glow from a bedroom above and the distant beat of music escaped through the slightly opened bedroom window. Another light died on the first floor and was replaced by a second on the top floor, reflecting against yours on the other side. 

You quivered as Andy took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. You felt it in your core as his hand cupped your other tit. He reached beneath you and played with the edge of your bottom. He drew you back as he leaned against the side of the tub and lifted his pelvis, and you with him. He tugged on his shorts and sat back down.

You felt hollow and a cloud of panic filled your stomach. You struggled against you and he bit you. You squeaked as his teeth threatened to break the skin and stilled. He parted and looked up at you.

“Be a good girl,” He felt beneath you and began to stroke himself.

“Please--”

“Shhh,” He turned his hand and hooked his fingers in your bottoms, pulling them aside. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He rubbed his tip against your folds. “It’ll be good.” He drew you to him and angled you over his dick. “Better than ever before.”

He forced you down and your lips formed an o as he entered you. You latched onto his shoulders without thinking and he pushed you to his limit. His lips and teeth returned to your chest as he once more began to toy with you. You quivered as he began to rock your hips.

The water swished around you, swirling and slapping against your skin. You held your breath as you tried not to cry out. You hissed as you dug your nails into his shoulders and let him guide you. Despite yourself, despite everything, it felt good. It felt wonderful. He was right and you were weak.

“You like that?” He nuzzled your throat. “Is this what you think of at night, huh?”

You bit your lip as he kneaded your hips and kept your moving.

“I think of it all the time,” He muttered. “All the time. Maybe…” His breath caught and he groaned. “Maybe I could offer to take you grocery shopping, hmm? We could have some fun in the car…”

“Andy…” You whimpered. “No, we can’t-- not again…”

You grasped his wrists and tried to push yourself off of him. A semblance of sanity returned to you as you looked him in the face. His eyes were dilated and dusky. He was entranced; incorrigible. You struggled as he held you down.

“This is wrong--”

He shoved you off him as his lip curled. You stumbled back and caught yourself on the other side of the tub. The water splashed as he stood behind you and grabbed your arm. He turned you over and pushed you over the siding, a jet blowing against your pelvis.

“Doesn’t feel wrong to me.” He growled.

He held you down with a large hand between your shoulders as he pushed your legs apart with his knee. He pressed against you and searched for your entrance, swiftly impaling you. You choked down a mewl as your hips crashed into the wall of the tub. He leaned his weight on you entirely as he rutted into you without relent. You were certain someone would hear the clapping of flesh or the stir of water all around.

“You’ll do what I want, when I want,” He sneered. “And from what I can tell, you’ll like it.”

“Andy--” Your voice fizzled as the pressure mixed with the steady stream of the jet as it hit your cunt. 

You held in a moan as you hung over the side of the tub, the blood pounding in your head as you panted wildly. You covered your mouth, afraid you would cry out as the coil inside you twisted and twisted. Your legs quaked as you orgasmed.

Andy’s hand gripped your hips and he pulled you back against him, again and again, using your body easily. You slid back and forth over the side and he bent over you, crushing you against the tub. He growled in your ear and his thrust jolted your body.

He pulled out suddenly, still looming over you as he stroked himself against your bikini and pressed his damp beard to your cheek as he shuddered. His hot cum spilled out onto the wet fabric and dripped down your thigh as he eased himself through his climax. He sighed and pushed himself from atop you, falling back into the water heavily.

You stayed as you were for a moment. Stunned. Shakily you stood and fixed your top and pulled your bottom straight. You couldn’t look at him. You climbed out of the tub and walked unsteadily across the grass.

“Ah, that was relaxing,” He said. “Come back anytime.”

You ignored him and continued onto the gate.

“Oh, and it’s supposed to be a cool night,” He called after you. “You should keep your window open.”

You slipped through and the gate creaked behind you and closed with a metallic click. You shivered as you kept to the side of your grandma’s house and entered through the back. You didn’t want anyone to see; you were certain they would know if they did.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #fic #one shot #dark fic #dark!fic #Defending Jacob

[aereres]

Still Into You - Mitch Marner

Summary: When Y/N agreed to join her older brother at the Marners' for Christmas, she didn't expect to find herself infatuated with her brother's best friend all over again.

A/N: I am so excited to post this ngl... Anons, here’s the Mitch fic!

Word Count: 3,4k

Warnings: drinking, maybe some swear words, lots of teasing and flirting, maybe some angst?

"God, this is bringing back High School memories," Andrew mumbled under his breath, a smile on his lips as he drove through the snowy streets. The landscape was a mixture of tall trees and mountains, some clouds blocking the view of their peaks.

"You guys came here often?" You asked your brother, noticing a rather large house just a few miles away.

"Every summer," Andrew said, taking another turn as he gave you a quick look. "We used to throw the biggest parties ever, before Marner left,"

"And you didn't even invite me," you tsked, pushing your beanie on the top of your head when he pulled up inside a driveway, your eyes scanning the fancy mountain house before you.

"Try to be nice, okay?" Andrew warned you, pointing a finger your way as he left the car. You lifted up your middle finger when he turned your back to you to knock on the front door, and you finally left the car to grab your bags.

"Oh my God, Andy! Hi!" You recognized Bonnie's voice, a smile forming on your lips as you looked at your long-time family friend hugging your brother tightly. "I haven't seen you in ages,"

"Hi, Bonnie," your brother chuckled, gently pulling back to hug her husband. His smile grew even larger when Mitch appeared, the two best friends finding themselves in a tight embrace as they laughed in chorus.

"Oh, Y/N," Bonnie sighed happily, pulling you in a hug and kissing the top of your head lightly. "I'm so happy you could make it, honey,"

"Thank you for having me," you smiled, hugging Paul when he greeted you. You met Mitch's eyes, a smile forming on your lips as you found yourself in front of the old friend. His features had changed from the last time you'd seen him, he was built, and he definitely looked taller. His smile was still the same, though. The one you had loved so much.

"Hi," he said lightly, opening his arms for you, letting you go after a couple of seconds. You took in the insides of the house: the tall Christmas tree, the fireplace in the living room, the large windows, and the soft lights that illuminated the various rooms. It felt... cozy.

"Anyone wants hot chocolate?"

-----

Mitch was trying to keep his eyes off of you. The light of the fireplace was hitting your body just right, and he could have sworn you were the prettiest sight on earth. It had been years since he had last seen you, leaving you with a quick 'goodbye' and an excited smile on his face.

It had been the night before the draft, he could still remember it. He said goodbye to all his friends, left the girl he was seeing with a kiss, and came to see Andrew one last time. You had happened to stand by the doorway, catching the last few glimpses of their bone-crushing hug as they laughed. Mitch had walked past you, ruffling your hair with a chuckle before walking towards the front door of your door to go back home, ready for his new start.

Since then, he had barely spent time home, missing not only the growth of his entire family, but also of his closest friends which, in some ways, involved you, too.

The braces you had once worn were gone, your short hair had become long, framing your face in the best possible way, and your younger version had left to let the new you take over. You were a sight to see.

"Marner, eyes on the game," Andrew snapped him out of his trance, tapping his thigh with his controller and pointing at the TV. His best friend had beaten him another time, making him scoff softly.

"Man, and I thought I got better at videogames," Mitch joked, slipping his phone out of his pocket to check some messages. Andrew stood up, stretched for a couple of seconds, and looked at his sister.

"I'm going to bed," he stated, running a hand through his dark hair. "We gotta throw a party, man, like the old times,"

"Sure," Mitch mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he saw the little smile that formed on your lips. "I'll try to find a way to get my parents out of here,"

"Cool," Andrew said, ruffling your hair and making you scoff softly before leaving the room with a small 'goodnight'. Silence grew between you and Mitch as you kept your eyes trained on your book, your heart beating out of your chest.

"It's been a while," he admitted, running a hand through his hair as his eyes found the fireplace. "I've missed you,"

You smiled softly, looking up at him as you shut the book. "Everyone missed you, around here," you chuckled. "How's the big NHL life going?"

"Busy," he sighed, letting his neck lean against the back of the couch and close his eyes. "Just constantly training and having games, but it's rewarding. School?"

"Dropped out of college," you chuckled. "I mean, now I got a job, so it's not that big of a deal,"

"Oh wow," Mitch teased, stealing your book and smirking your way. "So, nerdy Y/N is telling me she dropped out of college?"

"I wasn't nerdy," you mumbled as you tried to reach for your novel, stepping on the tip of your toes and following him around the living room. He let you get your book, his hands placing themselves against the wall behind you, caging you between his arms and the nearest wall.

"Oh really?" He whispered in your ear, your body so close to his you could feel his warmth. His nose touched yours, the smirk still painting his lips as his hazel orbs stared deep into yours. "Your glasses were cute, back then,"

The noise of a door opening made him scramble away from you, your brother's heavy steps making their way down the stairs. "God, I am thirsty," Andrew mumbled under his breath, totally not realizing what had been happening just seconds prior.

"I-I'm going to bed," you stuttered, gathering your things and letting your adrenaline-filled body lift itself up from the couch. "Goodnight,"

You didn't register their answers as you made your way to the guest bedroom as quickly as you could, shutting the door and sliding your back against it. Your breathing was heavy, hands shaking as the events replayed in your head. Mitch was just so close, his words just so teasing, he had you wrapped around his fingers.

But you were so sure you had moved on, you were so sure that your tiny, stupid crush on him had been over when he'd left, when many other girls had started to gain his attention. You were sure that you had been over what once was a teenage crush on your brother's best friend.

You clearly were not.

-----

The lights of the lampposts outside the mountain house reflected inside Mitch's room. He had been lying awake for what felt like hours, his thoughts making it impossible for him to sleep. Three days into the Christmas getaway and things were already going messy for him.

The vacation was supposed to bring him out of the chaos and anxiety that filled his head, to make him relax, to let all the stress that was his normal life aside for a couple of weeks. Yet, his love life had decided to make an appearance, turning his plans into old, stupid thoughts.

You had left his mind when he got drafted, he was going to be honest. He didn't expect to feel the exact way about you as he felt when he was a teen, he didn't expect his old crush to come back when he saw you after all those years.

The feelings inside his body were foreign, from the way his heart would start beating loudly when he'd see you around the house, to the way his fingers would tingle after he'd touch your skin. He couldn't understand his own body, and it frustrated him.

He felt as if he was standing in the middle of an empty, dark room, where he couldn't understand what was happening around him and to him. He was confused, and he needed to know what he was feeling for you, what his heart needed.

He closed his eyes, fisting the bedsheets as he clenched his jaw.

Mitchell Marner hated being confused.

-----

Mitch skated slowly on top of the iced lake, puffs of warmth leaving his mouth as he and your brother passed each other a puck, just like the old times. Mitch was laughing loudly, throwing his head back at something Andrew had said, his rosy cheeks looking as adorable as you remembered them.

Bonnie handed you a cup of warm tea before going back to the living room, leaving you to stand by the backdoor to look at the boys. Mitch's eyes caught yours as he skated around, a small smile never leaving his lips as he got off the ice, Andrew following right in tow.

"Damn, it's cold out there," Andrew mumbled while they got rid of their skates. Your brother walked past you to reach the fireplace, your eyes finding Mitch before you moved towards the kitchen.

You grabbed the sugar container and a spoon, turning your back to the entryway and getting deep inside your thoughts. A hand on your hip brought you back to real life, the feeling of a firm chest against your back making chills run up your spine. You spun around to face Mitch, your hands flattening against his chest.

"What are you doing, Mitch?!" You whisper yelled.

"Just, you know, reaching for a mug," he said, the smirk you knew too well adorning his features. "What are you doing, princess?"

You fluttered at the name, biting on your bottom lip as he kept his body close to yours. Your mind went into overdrive, thoughts filling your head as you got lost in his pretty eyes. You needed to understand.

He pushed a stray hair behind your ear, smiling at you when you blushed lightly. "Mitch, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's-" you motioned between your bodies. "What's this? You leave me hanging, tease me,"

"Ever heard of flirting, Y/N? Or is Andrew that protective?" Mitch smirked, watching you bite on your bottom lip as you looked at him. "I could tell you had a crush on me when we were kids, and maybe now it's slowly getting mutual,"

You looked at him in shock as he moved around the kitchen, filling up his mug with tea, adding some sugar to it, grabbing a snack. "You-"

"I mean, I saw you as a little sister back then just because I didn't want to fuck things up with Andy," he said, leaning against the counter to look your way, his smirk replaced with a small, soft smile. "But now we grew up, Andrew has more important things to focus on, and you can't stop leaving my mind,"

He leaned down to place a lingering kiss on your cheek, making you heat up and gasp softly as he grabbed his mug. "Gotta go, now," he smirked your way. "Oh, and we're throwing that party on Thursday,"

Thursday. Christmas Eve.

"Alright," you sighed out, your heart beating out of your chest. He sent you a wink as he left the kitchen, your body still buzzing from his contact. You took some time to get yourself back together, biting on your lip before you made your way towards the living room, joining your brother and the Marners.

'Home Alone' was playing on the TV when you took place next to Andrew on the couch, picking at the skin around your nails as your long-forgotten tea sat in front of you.

"You okay?" Andrew asked, his eyes scanning your features before settling back on the TV. "You've been weird these past few days,"

"I'm fine. Just missing home, I guess," you mumbled, feeling Mitch's eyes on you, already knowing he was smirking. You almost groaned out loud at the thought of him having you wrapped around his fingers, at the thought of being so at his mercy.

"You'll be fine, you just need to relax," Andrew sighed. "The party this Thursday will probably make you feel better,"

You nodded your head absentmindedly, not noticing your brother's worried glare as you silently kept your eyes on the TV. You zoned out, the laughter from your companions becoming background noise as you fell back into your train of thoughts.

The trip was supposed to be a way to relax, and yet, there you were: panicking over Mitchell Marner. Your brother's best friend. Everything about what was happening was wrong, starting off with the fact that Andrew and Mitch had been friends since day one.

"You just need to relax," were Andrew's words, the ones that were playing on repeat in your mind. And what better way to relax than to join the party? Cute guys, drinks, music. It would have been enough to calm you down and figure things out with Mitch.

There was no way you'd miss the party.

-----

Mitch was deep in his thoughts, his phone pressed against his ear as he looked out of the window. Auston was talking about something that had happened to his sister the day prior, laughter coming from his side as Mitch looked at the snow.

"Man, you're never this silent," Auston sighed, making Mitch shut his eyes and bite back a groan. "I know something's happening, so spill,"

"You better not tell a soul," Mitch said, biting his nails. Auston tsked from the other side of the line, urging his best friend to finally start talking. "Alright, you remember Andrew? My friend from home?"

"Yeah,"

"He's with us for Christmas, and-" Mitch sighed softly, getting ready for his teammate's endless teasing. "And his sister is over, too,"

"Oh, God. You like her, don't you?" Auston whisper-yelled. Mitch was silent, which brought his best friend to conclusions. "Mitch, your best friend's little sister?!"

"I've liked her for years, but I've settled for other girls because of her brother," Mitch explained, rubbing his forehead as he tried to explain the situation better. "But now she's back, looking as pretty as ever, and I just can't help it,"

Silence came from Auston's line, making Mitch's heart beat a little faster than usual. "Aus?"

"I mean, I know you like her, and I know you wouldn't try to break her heart or mess your friendship up," Auston sighed. "Just- be careful, Marner,"

"Uh- yeah," Mitch mumbled.

There was a beat, silence being the only thing coming from both lines. "I gotta go now, man," Auston sighed. "I'll see you soon, okay? Don't fuck things up and ask her out,"

"Alright, bye," Mitch said, ending the call and letting his body fall on his bed. Surely, catching feelings for his best friend's younger sister had been a problem from the start, but he was sure. He was sure that, that time, it wasn't going to be just a game.

-----

The loud bass was enough to snap you out of your thoughts, making you take one last look at yourself in the mirror before leaving your room. People were already crowding the living room, the smell of sweat and alcohol reaching your nostrils and making you wince softly.

You took in some of the familiar faces while you slowly made your way towards the kitchen, your only goal being getting yourself a drink.

The countertop had been transformed into a makeshift bar, different types of alcohol sitting on top of it, waiting to be used. You poured yourself something heavy, just the right mixture that could make you forget about the events of the previous week.

Your eyes fell on the people in the living room, especially on Andrew, who was dancing with a random girl. Next to him stood Mitch, his arms wrapped around two different girls, his large smile on his lips.

Your stomach churned, jealousy taking over you as you stumbled across the house and reached the improvised dance floor. You swayed your hips to the music mindlessly, hoping you'd catch someone's attention and, hopefully, give Mitch a taste of his own medicine.

A pair of hands settled on your hips soon after, resting against the soft material of your skirt and pulling you to a warm body. The stranger's lips were close to your neck, his breath fanning against your shoulder as you moved against him. Wrapping your arms around him, you kept your movements sensual and teasing, your own hands running over your curves and feeling yourself up.

What was supposed to be just one song turned into two, another body taking its place behind you and dancing with you as you lost the concept of time. When you looked around and noticed that Mitch had gone missing, you fell back into your senses, throwing your empty cup inside the closest bin.

As you wandered around the house, you took notice of the people surrounding you, from the beautiful girls, to the boys you swore everyone had a crush on in High School. In the corner stood your brother, a shorter girl wrapped in his arms as the two made out, his hands dangerously close to her ass.

You shook your head, chuckling to yourself as you grabbed your coat, ready to head out to take a breather and chill down. As you stepped outside, you noticed the sound of the hot tub, a long sigh leaving your lips as your heated face met the cold air.

"Hot inside, huh?"

You snapped your head around, noticing Mitch's body inside the warm water, his eyes closed as he talked to you.

"Uh- yeah," you mumbled, biting on your lip as your eyes ran over his tattoos, his strong chest, his muscled thighs.

"You should come in, it feels great after dancing,"

"I'll die of hypothermia, Marner," you scoffed, turning back around to face the view of the mountains, the snow already making your feet cold. "And I don't have a swimming suit with me,"

"I'll keep you warm, Y/N," he smirked, running a hand through his hair. "Just- sit on the edge, I know you're starting to freeze,"

You rolled your eyes, awkwardly walking towards the tub and taking place on the warm edge. You took off your shoes and let your feet fall inside the warm water, a sigh of relief leaving your lips.

"See? I told you you would be just fine," he said, his hand toying with the hem of your skirt absentmindedly.

"What are you doing here, Mitch? This is your party,"

"Got bored, I guess," he mumbled. "And I didn't want to see you with those douches all over you,"

You chuckled coldly, wrapping your arms around your middle to keep yourself warm. "You were all over those girls, I had to give you a taste of your own medicine,"

He laughed under his breath, his hazel eyes finally meeting yours. "There's nothing holding us back, why are we playing hard to get?"

"I don't know," you whispered, your toes grazing the skin of his thigh as you moved around. "I don't understand if you're doing this for fun or if you want me for good, I can't have my heart broken again,"

Mitch looked in front of himself for a second, facing the mountains and the snow that surrounded him before looking back at you. "There has always been something about you, ever since we were kids. I've always tried to push it back because of Andrew, but now, after all these years, I can't just help it anymore,"

You looked at him, squealing when his hands found your smaller back and brought you inside the water, positioning your body on his lap. "I know that you deserve better than me, that you deserve someone who's always present and there for you, but maybe things will finally work out for us,"

"Mitch, just-" you whispered, closing your eyes as you took in his words. "Don't break my heart,"

He leaned in, his promise embedded in his kiss as he let his body lean into yours. Your hands found his cheeks, holding him close to you as you melted into his arms, the whole world around you disappearing. The music that was playing inside the house vanished, and so did the people, leaving only Mitch and you in your own universe.

You pulled away only when your lungs started to hurt, screaming at you to breathe in some air. Your eyes stayed closed as your forehead rested against Mitch's, his hands soft against your skin. "I won't," he whispered, his swollen lips brushing against yours.

"I promise I won't,"

Taglist: @thirsthy-bitch​ @bellaguarneri​ @celestialblae​

#mitch marner x reader #mitch marner #mitch marner fic

[lahyene]

Family Friend.

Pairing: andy barber x reader

Summary: It’s been a while since you’ve seen Andy, one of your father’s best friends. You’ve always had a little crush on him, and it’s safe to say he’s impressed with how much you’ve grown since the days he knew you as a little girl.

Themes: smut, age gap

Word count: 2178

You’re sitting at a booth with your friends enjoying your third round of drinks when you notice him. Your dad’s best friend, Andy, is sitting at the bar alone with a beer in hand, casually talking to the bartender every now and then. You frown slightly, biting your lip. You know things have been tense for him ever since he and Laurie decided to separate. Quite honestly, you have no idea how she made such a decision. You’ve always looked up to Andy- he’s a great guy, wonderful father to Jacob, and he’s showered Laurie in nothing but love and care. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a teensy bit of a crush on him, but it was nothing serious- you can simply appreciate how attractive the man is.

“Hey, I’ll be back. That’s my family friend over there, I just want to say hi,” you tell your friends as you slide out of the booth, and they immediately look over out of curiosity. “Ooh! The cute one!” one of your best friends trills, making the other girls laugh. You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “Mhm. Be right back~” you playfully sing, taking your drink with you as you walk over to the bar. He notices you approaching and his blue eyes light up slightly in surprise.

“Oh, Y/N, hey.” He chuckles quietly, looking around and shaking his head to himself. “Jesus. I forget how much you’ve grown, feels like just yesterday you were a little five-year-old begging me for piggyback rides.” 

You laugh softly, sitting down next to him and raising a brow as you gently lift your drink towards his in a gesture to cheers. “And now I’m all grown up, drinking in the same bar as you.” 

He smiles and clinks his bottle with your glass and both of you take a drink, though you discreetly study his features. He looks tired, worn out- and you can’t blame him. Your dad’s told you that he’s been with Laurie for a long time, long before you were born, and that it’s probably pretty difficult for him to adjust to single life again.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your tone laced with worry, and he blinks before sighing, forcing a smile. 

“As okay as I can be. It’s a… work in progress.” He shrugs his shoulders but nods towards you. “How about you, though? You here with your friends? A boyfriend?” 

You laugh and gesture towards the booth you were just sitting at. “Friends. I’m not dating anyone, actually.”

“Well.” Andy finishes his bottle before setting it down, giving you a half bitter but half playful glance, “That makes two of us.” You smile sympathetically, knowing he’s always preferred to at least try to have a little humor about serious situations, but it’s easy to see he’s still struggling. 

“Do you… think she’ll come back?” you ask curiously; he’s a close enough friend that you don’t feel bad asking nosy questions, and besides, he works in law. He’s used to being straightforward.

He looks thoughtful for a few moments, eyes focused on the empty beer bottle before him before finally murmuring, “Maybe she shouldn’t.” You look at him in surprise, slightly lifting a brow and glancing to the bartender to make a motion to get him another drink. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, and he notices, a soft but deep chuckle escaping his throat. 

“You’re getting me drinks now, kiddo?” He looks down at the bar, sighing heavily again. “Maybe I’m not good enough for her. I kept such a big part of me a secret, of course she wouldn’t trust me after that. That was all on me.”

“Andy.” You frown, shaking your head. “He may be your dad, but he’s not a big part of you. You’re nothing like him. You barely even know him.” He looks up at you surprised, and you bite your lip sheepishly. “Sorry. My dad told me everything, I was kinda prying. I was just… really shocked when I found out you and Laurie were separating. You guys seemed perfect.” 

He barely smiles, nodding in thanks to the bartender when she slides him a beer. “We met when we were young. Things happened kinda fast. But… yeah. We loved each other a lot. She really felt like my soulmate.”

“You’re using the past tense,” you note in a soft murmur, looking at him curiously. “You don’t feel that way anymore?”

He looks up and studies you for a few seconds before suddenly picking up his drink and lifting it towards you with a glimmer of playfulness in his pacific hues. “How about we talk about it later and drink about it now, hm?” He glances towards your friends, continuing, “Unless you need to get back over there.” 

You blink and quickly shake your head, a smile slowly spreading across your lips as you lift your drink up as well. “Nope. They’ll be fine.” You clink your drinks together once again. “To being single?” you speak playfully, and he chuckles, nodding his head. 

“To being single.”

_____

You can’t even recall the time as you and Andy are cracking up over past memories, scrolling through photos on your cell phones as you talk and joke together. Your friends are long gone, but Andy’s assured you that you can ride home with him- most likely in an Uber, considering how drunk both of you are.

“Look at you. You were obsessed with me,” he laughs playfully, showing you a photo of you around eight-years-old, clinging onto his leg as he’s trying to walk. You laugh too, scoffing and waving him off. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, I did that to like, every adult around me! You’re not special.” You teasingly make a face and he chuckles, finally locking his phone and sliding it back into his jeans pocket. 

“Man. You really have grown up.” He looks at you in awe, shaking his head to himself. “You’ve become such a beautiful girl, you know that? I think I’m just as proud of you as your parents are.” 

You smile but bite on your lip, putting your own phone away too. “I don’t see you as a parent, though.” You speak honestly, the alcohol certainly helping your candor. “We’re… friends, right?” He smiles, nodding his head. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. You’re an adult now… there’s really no reason for me to treat ya like a kid anymore.”

You look up at him, making direct eye contact. Your heart’s pounding; you know what you want to do, and while sobriety would hold you back from doing it, that’s clearly not around to restrain you anymore. He looks at you too, his blues practically piercing through your own eyes- until they slowly drift down to your lips.

You lean in and kiss him. Sure, a part of your brain is telling you that you shouldn’t, but even he said himself that you’re an adult now. You want this, and you know he wants you too- because the second your lips crashed against his, his hand snaked up to grab the back of your neck as his fingers curled tightly into your locks, kissing you roughly, almost desperately. You gasp quietly and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue into your open mouth to explore with a heated intensity, his other hand spread across your thigh--

-- and then he stops, pulling back with heavy breaths, looking at you with slightly wide eyes. “Holy shit,” he mumbles, slowly shaking his head. “Y/N, I… we shouldn’t be…”

“I want to.” You insist, framing his face and pulling him in again for a kiss, murmuring slowly against his lips, “I’m not a kid anymore, Andy, I make my own decisions. I want this. I want you.”

He slowly groans against your lips, unable to help but kiss back again. This goes on for at least a few minutes until he pulls back again, both of you in need of air. “Not here,” he mutters, glancing around. “Come on. We’re going to my place.”

________

The two of you practically stumble inside his house, partly from being intoxicated and partly from having your lips locked in a steamy make out session that’s been on and off ever since you got in the damn Uber. You can’t help yourselves. It’s as though both of you have been deprived for years- you’re desperate to get your hands on every part of him, as he is with you. He blindly kicks the door shut before lifting you up into his arms, making you squeal breathlessly in excitement, a little giggle escaping your throat. “The bedroom’s too far,” he murmurs huskily, bringing you to the couch and playfully throwing you on your back- you laugh and grab his face when he hovers on top of you, pulling him down for yet another kiss, unable to get enough. His entire body is pressed against yours as he slowly moves his open mouth down to your neck, sucking and nibbling roughly as his hands roam your figure in eager curiosity.

You let out a small moan when he grinds against you, your hands immediately flying to his shirt to lift it up over his head. The sight of his broad, bare chest above you is certainly a welcoming one. You run your fingers over his skin, moving to his back to admire the lightly toned muscle, practically letting out a sigh of content. He chuckles deeply, getting you out of your own shirt and running his tongue over his lips. “You’re gorgeous.” He mumbles hoarsely, leaning down to press kisses to the tops of your breasts, all while firmly pressing his bulge against your clothed entrance to tease you. The mere action in itself is getting you wet, your body trembling from anticipation and your breaths shaky when he pushes your bra out of the way to kiss and suck on your breasts.

You hastily reach down to remove his belt, fingers blindly working the buckle for a few moments before finally getting the damn thing off. He helps you lower his pants and boxers and you sit up slightly against the armrest, eyes widening as you gaze upon his throbbing erection, your cheeks slightly pink in eagerness. You’ve never wanted someone so bad before. He briefly glances up at you when he loops his fingers into your shorts and panties together and you nod your head instantly. With a little smirk, he takes both off, his chest practically heaving already from his excitement. He leans down and kisses you again, but pulls back briefly to look down at you. “Wait. We need a condom,” he breathes out, and you shake your head. 

“I’m on the pill, it’s okay,” you assure him, framing his face and running your thumbs over his beard. “Please, I need you…”

He groans just from hearing you, nodding quickly. “Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart, as long as you’re sure.” He moves his hand down to guide his shaft to your wet core, his breath hitching as he thrusts himself inside you. You let out a moan, your eyes fluttering shut and your back lifting off the couch as he begins to move faster, rocking your own hips against his as you grip his shoulder blades tightly. He buries his head in your neck as he covers your skin in love bites, his thrusts hard and fast and his grunts guttural from pleasure. He knows just how to move, just how to send you over the edge each time- you’re sure you’re never going to want to be with anyone your age after this.

He doesn’t speak much, but his expressions tell you everything you need to know. His blue eyes are dark with lust, his eyebrows furrowed together and his jawline clenched, his groans deep and husky as he stretches your tight core out with his thick length. He looks down at you with a weak smirk, growling to himself as he keeps pounding into you. You’re nearing your climax, your breaths airier and your moans high pitched, your nails digging into his skin as you roll your neck to one side. “Andy…!”

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he growls, and you let yourself release, gasping out in delight. He comes inside you, his grunts heavy and nearly breathless; he collapses on top of you with a heavy sigh, both your hearts pounding against your chests.

“I really needed that,” he mutters, and you slowly run your fingers through his soft hair, sighing softly in bliss. “My parents can’t find out about this,” you whisper, and he scoffs, nodding his head mumbling, “Hell no they can’t.” 

He finally lifts himself off of you to dispose of the condom, walking towards the bin and glancing back at you, barely biting on his lip. “But… it’s late. Maybe you should just sleep here tonight.”

You blink but barely smile, nodding slowly as you sit up and adjust your bra. “Yeah… I think that’s a good idea.”

#andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans smut #writing

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

Please prompt number 2, if you can of course!!! Ah, Bloom says "Kiss me" only if you can.

I am so fucking sorry you had to wait this long. I hope it doesn't happen again, or at least the wait isn't as long. Hope you enjoy.

Damn wizards. Bloom cursed in her head as another pretty powerful beam was aimed directly at her, only narrowly missing her as she managed to side step it, while she struggled to put on a shield. Of course they had to run to Omega, into the coldest and probably the most dangerous dimension there is. Of course, she was immensely grateful they didn't chose some sort of populated area for this battle, but icicles and sharp objects flying from the ceiling of the cave really weren't her idea of an ideal date. They were more in the realm of an ice witch. The thought of Icy made her shudder and loose focus for a brief second.

"Bloom!" Sharp voice echoed through the cave as another spell flew over her head. She barely managed to turn around to face the one that called her before she was pulled to the side, and what she would come to realize only a second later out of the harms way, when a painful groan rung out next to her. She turned towards the figure the floor and nearly threw up when she saw blood on it.

Valtor was laying on the floor, clutching his bleeding arm with an impressive gash on it, and Bloom would've made a joke about him acting like a prince on a white horse if she wasn't so busy trying to hold the content of her stomach there where it belonged. She stood in a stupor for a few seconds but another painful groan snapped her out of it. She dropped down next to Valtor in a crouch as her hands roamed over the injury,as if she wasn't sure what she should do.

"Layla don't!" Stella's shriek made her turn around only to see Layla disappear after the wizards, that she didn't even realize stopped throwing spells at them, deeper into the Omega. Bloom turned back towards Valtor who gripped her arm and gently shoved her away from her as he struggled to stand up. She wanted to ask what the hell is he doing when she noticed Brandon rushing towards them as Morgana held a shield to protect her warrior fairies and specialists.

"Go after them!" Valtor was shouting words at her but his voice seemed muffled, almost as if she was hearing him through a thick fog, compared to the loud noise falling debris made as it collided with the icy floor.

She shook her head negative. "You're hurt! I can fix it! I just need a couple of minutes!" She saw his eyes widen comically as Brandon finally reached them and grabbed Valtor under his good arm and hauled him up. Bloom rose with them, her hand with magic, gathered in the coiled fist, still hovered above his wound.

Valtor shook off Brandon's hands as he leaned closer to Bloom and gripped her forearms. "They need you more than I do! Layla needs you! I'll be alright! Now go give those wizards hell!" When he healized she was still hesitating and that she was about to protest, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to himself as his forhead came to rest against her own, which was an unusual sight because he had to bend down quite a bit despite the fact she was in heels and she tilted her head up towards him as far as it would go.

The tension between the two former enemies was palpable from the moment the portal to Gardinia opened and no one was immune to it. Since the now-on-the-good-side Valtor stepped through the gates of Alfea in an effort to combine forces with fairies to battle one of his acquaintances, Ogron, who apparently rubbed him the wrong way in the past, the sparks flying from both guardians of the dragon flame were hard to ignore. Even Sky seemed to recognize the not so innocent glances the two sent to each other on a daily basis, and therefore letting Bloom go seemed like the only rational option. Bloom was pretty sure there was even a bet going on between the specialists and the Winx girls whose primary focus was the relationship of the two guardians. She heard Stella complaining once, when she thought Bloom wasn't listening, about how she will lock them up in a magic room until they... talked their way through their problems. Mind you, talked was not the term Stella used.

Valtor squeezed Bloom's hips in a bruising grip and the flashbacks seemed to evaporate before her eyes. His sharp features slid back into focus and Bloom opened her mouth to say something but Valtor was slightly faster about it. "There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about! But in order to do that you need to go there," he pointed behind her in the direction wizards of the black circle disappeared, "and win this battle!" She opened her mouth again to finally say something only to realize she had nothing to say. She snapped her mouth shut and nodded. "Go! We'll be fine!" And just like that she broke out of his hold and rushed towards the battle sounds.

Valtor turned around on his heels and this time grabbed still shocked Brandon and pulled him towards the protective dome Morgana struggled to keep up. His arm stung unpleasantly but the bleeding stopped and regeneration already started knitting torn ligaments and tissue together. His commanding voice rung out. "Alright, let's get out of here." No one dared to argue, well almost no one.

"What about the girls, we can't just leave them to fight the wizards alone?" The blonde prince was sending glares in Valtor's way but they weren't as hostile as he expected. Valtor turned his head to look at the place where Bloom dissapeared.

"Layla is their responsibility, and besides, we ourselves are more of a liability than help. "

Sky nodded and Valtor grabbed one of the injured fairies while specialists helped the rest as they made their way out.

Ground shook beneath Valtor's feet as an epic battle raged in the tunnels beneath the ground. Valtor could feel pulses of magic, light and dark beams equally strong, until something seemed to happen and light magic prevailed. Valtor held his breath. Time seemed to stop. Not even a single sound was heard. Seconds passed. Until a familiar beating of wings disrupted the eerie silence and six fairies flew out. Valtor's heart climbed into his throat. The winx seemed to be one fairy short, one fiery fairy short to be precise. Valtor focused on the flame raging in his chest as it searched for it's other half. The pull in his chest seemed to get stronger until it almost bursted from it's place of residence when he saw Bloom flying out with Nebula in tow. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief as cheers of both the Winx and the rest of the fairies rung through the valley.

The Frutti Music bar was overflowing with people. Andy and his band took the stage as Roxy served drinks to the impatient customers and Klaus hurriedly mixed cocktails behind the bar. Everything seemed to return to normal, almost like nothing happened in the first place. That was one of the things Valtor never understood about humans. No matter how big of a trouble they seemed to find themselves in, they never lost hope. His arm almost healed in the few hours but Flora insisted that he should wear a bandage just in case the wound reopened.

His gaze ran over the bar, searching for a group of six fairies, or more precisely, searching for a head full of bright red hair that somehow always managed to stand apart from every environment and every crowd. He found what he was looking for on the other end of the bar and he made his way towards them. As he drew closer he noticed another blob of silver hair that belonged to only one person Valtor knew. An arm grabbed Valtor's biceps and he turned towards the owner.

Brandon handed him a cocktail and Valtor's confusion must've been pretty obvious because Brandon shrugged and said, "I figured you'd want something to drink before you face Faragonda."

Valtor laughed, a deep sound coming somewhere from his stomach, even his shoulders shook with it. "I am unsure just how much it will help me relax, considering the fact I usually indulge in something a bit stronger... but I appreciate the effort."

"I didn't believe Stella when she told me you can be pleasant to be around."

Valtor raised a questioning eyebrow. "What is your opinion now?"

"That I should always believe what my girlfriend says."

Valtor chuckled. "I'd take that with a grain of salt. After all, I can also be really unpleasant."

"Oh we know." He slapped Valtor on his shoulder. "Good luck man. You'll need it." Valtor had a sneaky suspension Brandon wasn't refering to a meeting with a headmistress of Alfea. He looked at the retrieving back of specialist with a smirk on his face. Who knew not all of them were just fools with an inflamed ego and fancy swords.

He shook his head and took a sip of the drink he had in his hand and then grimaced. The cocktail was definitely something that Stella or Flora would prefer. Fruity and sweet. He stepped towards the group he originally intended to meet and managed to catch what Faragonda was saying. "I'm extremely proud of you girls."

"You should be." His booming voice reached them and Faragonda jumped a bit, startled, as seven pairs of eyes turned towards him. "They did defeat the wizards all by themselves." He locked eyes with Bloom who had a smile on her face and Valtor felt his lips twitch upwards.

"Something happened to your arm Valtor?"

"An icicle fell on it. Just don't tell me you're worried about me Faragonda. I'll start thinking you care." Valtor rolled his eyes as sarcasm dripped from every word.

"What a shame it only grazed your arm. I would think that enormous head of yours makes for a convenient target. It's so massive it probably has it's own gravitational pull." Faragonda smirked and it looked surprisingly evil on her.

"Are you sure you're a fairy and not a witch Faragonda? Might wanna erase that smirk from your face unless you want people to start thinking otherwise. " Valtor looked at her with challenge in his eyes as his lips formed in an evil grin that would scare lesser beings but it only managed to irritate Faragonda.

"Touché Valtor."

"Thank you, I try." He handed the fruity cocktail to Stella that tried really hard to resist laughing at the irritated face of her headmistress, but some giggles still escaped, as she held Flora's arm for support. He turned towards Bloom who now had a hand across her mouth so Faragonda wouldn't see her laughing but the adorable wrinkles around her eyes crinkled, a clear sign she was smiling. He made a gesture with his head that indicated she should come with him when she finally finished laughing and looked at him. He heard Stella squeal in excitement as Flora gasped when Solarian princess gripped her arm. Bloom bit her lip and took Valtor's offered hand as he lead them to the beach and away from the crowd. He heard Stella scream about how 'It's finally happening!' And Flora's gentle voice telling her to calm down because 'You're crushing my arm Stella.'

They walked hand in hand through the crowd, some of the guests giving them weird looks, but Valtor's intimidating form seemed to part the said crowd like a Red sea. She stopped at the exit that lead to the beach, Valtor offering his support while she bent down to take off her shoes because she learned that high heels and sand don't really mix that well. She once again took his hand when her bare feet touched the now pleasantly warm and no longer scorching hot sand but she also went step further, something that greatly surprised Valtor, when she intertwined their fingers.

They walked hand in hand for a while, not daring to break a rather pleasant silence. When they were far enough from praying eyes of the people Valtor finally stopped and turned towards the ocean. He was eager to get Bloom alone but now that they actually were alone he started wondering if it was really a good idea. He felt Bloom's eyes drilling a hole at the back of his neck but he patiently waited for her to make the first move and break the ice so to speak.

"So..." her voice broke through and Valtor turned towards her, "you wanted to talk. Well here we are. What did you want to tell me?"

Valtor chuckled bitterly. "I wanted to talk to you about... us. But now I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

She crossed her arms underneath her chest. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Not in the way you would think. I know I... like you." He inhaled sharply, "Dragon, I sound like a teenage boy."

Bloom giggled at that statement but Valtor could see if was forced. "But?"

"I don't know if this will work." Admitting that he didn't know something wasn't simple for him and he realized Bloom knew it as well when her lips pressed together in a small but embarrassed smile. "I know we have... something. Something is obviously here but... will that something be enough to keep us motiva-"

"Kiss me." She interrupted him with a phrase Valtor never thought he would hear directed at him. His mouth opened and closed but no sound escaped. He was shocked into silence.

"W-What?"

"Kiss me." She repeated loud and clear. "You want to know if the chemistry we have will be enough to... get us through it." She lowered her gaze as blush appeared on her cheeks. She shrugged. "It's like a Schrodinger's cat. We won't know unless we try." Her eyes swept across all the surfaces she could find until they locked on Valtor's shocked one's. She squirmed and averted her gaze as she started fidgeting and her arms came to hug herself in order to make herself appear smaller. "Of course if you don't want to that's ok I was just making a sug-"

In all the rush she was in to excuse her impulsive words she failed to notice that Valtor finally got over his shock and has quickly reduced the distance between their bodies. This time it was Bloom that got interrupted as Valtor cupped her face and did exactly what she asked him to do. He sealed their lips together, cutting off her nervous speech in the best way possible. There was no firework or explosion behind closed eyelids, just an incredible heat that coursed through their veins. He felt Bloom's breath hitch but she quickly recovered and her arms came to grip his shoulders as she stood on her tip toes and craned her neck upwards. Valtor chuckled at her attempts to make this easier on him but took pity when she whined and pressed her lips harder against his. He bent down as his tongue swept over her lower lip, asking for a permission that she granted without any resistance, and his arms came to wrap around her waist before he picked her up and she let out a noise of surprise as her feet no longer stood on firm surface.

Bloom was first to break the kiss as her teeth came to bite her already swollen lips. "Wow." It was the first thing she spoke since he kissed her and he laughed at her surprised expression and astonished whisper.

"Wow indeed." He lowered her feet back on the ground but she swayed for a second so he kept his arms on her waist just in case she got light headed. "So... is the cat alive?"

"Alive and kicking." Her hands gripped his shirt.

"Hmmm."

"Maybe we should, ehem, repeat the experiment a few more times... just so we're sure in the result." Valtor's pupils dilated and his grip on her waist tightened.

"We should be careful." His voice was a growl and Bloom shuddered visibly. "We might set something on fire."

"Well," Bloom smiled as she lifted her head up once again and her hands started tugging on his shirt to get him closer. "at least there's an ocean to extinguish any wild fires we might cause."

#bloom #winx club #baltor x bloom #bloom x baltor #bloom x valtor #sparxshipping #valtor #valtor x bloom #winx #sparxshipping prompts #sparxshipping questions #sparxshipping requests #sparxshipping fluff

[et-lesailes]

hot young neighbor

pairing: andy barber x reader

word count: 2233

summary: you’re not expecting such a sexy next door neighbor upon moving into your new home. you already know you want to make a move, but he seems to do it first when he invites you over for dinner.

themes: smut, age gap, oral sex

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed,  @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly,  @denisemarieangelina,  @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet, @inactivewhore, @hurricanerin, @captainamerica-is-bae, @shaddixlife, @tessa-bl, @marvelouspottering, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc, @thegetawaywriter, @dwights-new-plague, @rynabarnesrogers, @fckdeusername, @doloreschanal, @ssworldofsw

notes: sorry, this was supposed to be posted earlier but my laptop was getting fixed! hope you guys enjoy!

You’re going for a run in your new neighborhood when you see him.

You had just moved in a few days ago, and while you had already gotten to introduce yourselves to a lot of your neighbors, he’s the one you’re most interested in, and haven’t gotten a chance to talk to yet, either. He lives in the house right next door, and you sometimes see him from your window when he’s pulling up in his driveway or on the lawn throwing a football with whom you assume to be his son. You have yet to see a woman around, though, which pleases you.

He’s hot. Sexy, really, you’ve never seen someone as attractive as him. While casually digging for dirt when talking to the other neighbors, you only know his name and his occupation, but nothing about his love life. 

You glance down at yourself, happy that you’ve chosen your cuter workout apparel consisting of a sports bra and matching leggings. Coming to a stop in front of his house, you call out just as he’s about to open his front door, his arm carrying what appears to be takeout. 

“Hey! Sorry to bother ya, I just wanted to introduce myself- I just moved in next door.”

He turns around and although it’s quick, you notice his blue eyes take in your appearance. Your entire appearance. Just what you wanted. A charming but genuine smile crosses his lips, nearly making you swoon. “Oh, hey there! Sorry, I’ve been meaning to come by to say hi. Work’s been crazy this week, though, hence-” he pauses to nod towards the bag, “- Chinese for dinner tonight, no time to cook.” He sets the bag down by the door, though, coming over to you and extending his hand. “I’m Andy.”

Now it’s your turn to eye the perfectly form fitting outfit he’s wearing, that coat, the button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the tie, the dress pants. “You must work somewhere fancy, huh?” you tease (even though you already know). Shaking his hand, you reply, “Y/N. Nice to finally meet you!” 

He laughs, and the mere noise in itself is arousing. It’s so warm and deep, you want to hear more of it. “I’m an assistant district attorney. And it’s very nice to meet you, too.” You swear you catch a bit of an emphasis on that “very”, and you smile up at him biting your lip. “I’ll let you get back to dinner, I’m sure your family must be waiting.”

“Actually,” he sighs, looking back towards the door before looking at you, “it’s just me tonight. My son, Jacob- he’s at his mom’s place for the weekend.” He suddenly tilts his head. “Would you wanna join me, actually? I got way too much food, to be honest. Got a little overexcited when I was looking at that menu.”

You can’t believe how lucky you are- sure, you wanted to get to know your incredibly cute neighbor, but you never thought it would happen so fast and so smoothly. “Really? You’re sure? Because that sounds great.” You smile, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I still have, like, no food at home. I’ll just go take a quick shower first, I’m kinda gross and sweaty right now.” You laugh, and he chuckles too. “Gross? No way. But yeah, sure, come on over whenever you’re ready- I’ll leave the door unlocked.” He gives you a smile and you return it, trying not to look as eager as you are as you turn back to your house to get ready. 

Dinner with Andy is amazing. The two of you sit at his dining table and talk the night away, chatting about everything under the sun. He’s a perfect gentleman, always offering a drink the second yours is finished, urging you to eat more, and not even taking any phone calls while he’s in the middle of conversation with you. After eating, the two of you decide to watch a movie together- it’s Friday night, after all, neither of you have anywhere to be the next morning.

You’re walking to the living room when you notice a family photo on the credenza. “Is this Jacob? And your… ex wife?” you question, picking it up and observing it with interest. “It’s a really cute photo.” He looks over and nods, barely smiling though shrugging slightly. “Yeah. It was taken kinda recently, actually. Laurie and I divorced not too long after…”

“How are you doing with all of that?” you ask softly, coming over to the living room and sitting down on the couch. He aims the remote at the television, currently working on finding the movie you guys had decided on. “Honestly? Fine. Our marriage was a little messy for a while. I think in a way, I was always bracing myself for this to happen.” You listen to him somewhat curious, wondering how on Earth a woman could just let herself lose a man like him. He’s practically sex on legs. 

“So are ya dating again?” you ask playfully, and he glances at you amused. “Hmm. Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replies in jest, and you laugh, nibbling on your lower lip. “I guess you’re not. I doubt a girlfriend would be very happy you invited the new neighbor half your age into your home for dinner alone, hm?” you muse with a smirk, and he scoffs in amusement. “Excuse me? Half my age?” He suddenly pauses and shakes his head playfully. “You know what? Don’t elaborate on that, you’re probably right. But yeah, I’m not seeing anyone right now.” 

“That’s kind of surprising.” You blurt out, unable to help yourself. You’ve always had the tendency to speak your mind. “You’re, like, the most attractive guy I’ve met here.” He blinks in surprise but chuckles lowly, pressing play before coming to sit next to you. “Well. Thank you. And to think my son told me I had to step up my game.” You laugh softly, biting on your lip somewhat mischievously. “Yeah, I think you’re definitely doing just fine…”

He looks down at you, his expression suddenly becoming a little more serious. You’re practically lost in his deep blue eyes, staring back up at him as your heart begins to pound a little. It’s definitely happening. You can feel it. Whether this was always his intention or not, you’re unsure, but you know he wants you just as badly as you want him. 

It all happens so fast. His hands are grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap, his lips against yours in a furiously heated kiss, his arms wrapping entirely around you to keep you close to his body. You kiss him back now straddling his lap comfortably, your hands already lunging for the buttons of his shirt to push it off. His grunts of arousal are turning you on more and more, showcasing his absolute need and hunger; it’s clear he's been deprived ever since his divorce, and you’re more than happy to give him what he’s been ravenous for. You let him pull your top off, adjusting yourself so you can remove your shorts. He pulls back and stares at your half naked body, already panting. 

“Fuck. I forgot how sexy girls your age are,” he mumbles as his eyes rake over your figure, hands running up your waist to squeeze your breasts through your bra before traveling down to dig his fingers into your ass. “So damn tight and perky in all the right places…” You giggle breathlessly, unbuckling his belt as you lick your lips. “I think you’ll find I have a lot more… enthusiasm, too.” 

You slowly slide off him, getting down onto your knees in between his legs. He looks shocked but pleasantly surprised when you push down his pants and briefs, his teeth digging into his lower lip in anticipation when you curl your fingers around his thick length. You can’t help but stare a little, somewhat intimidated by his shaft though excited at the same time. Looking up at his expression, you barely smirk. “What’s wrong, Andy? Your ex-wife didn’t like to get down on her knees for you?” You use your other hand to rub his thigh slowly as if to comfort him, leaning down to give his tip little kitten licks. “Mm… because I’d do it for ya anytime…”

He lets out a groan, bucking his hips already in greed. “Fuck, don’t tease, Y/N. You did enough of that today standing outside my house in that tiny little bra and those tight pants.” He mutters through clenched teeth, and you blink before giggling lightly, pumping his base. “Oh? You were checking me out even then, huh?” 

“Of course I was… who wouldn’t be?” he growls, suddenly reaching out and grabbing a fistful of your hair, jerking your head forward. “Suck my damn dick already, honey, I want to fuck the back of your goddamn throat…” 

You gasp slightly but feel the wetness pool between your legs upon the pet name and dirty talk, immediately leaning forward to wrap your lips around him. You’ve never wanted to please someone so bad. He’s older, much older, and all you want to do is impress him. You bob your head up and down as your tongue swirls around his length, enjoying the sounds of his pleasured grunts and groans, looking up to see his eyes practically half shut. “Shit. You’re doing so good, honey, so… fucking good.” He hisses, clenching your hair tighter as he bucks his hips upwards. “Keep going, just like that…”

You feel his cock hitting the back of your throat, your coughs muffled from how full your mouth is. You don’t want to stop, though. You want to do everything you can to please him, to show him just what a good neighbor you are. You keep sucking, peering up at him through hooded eyes, moving your tongue skillfully to draw him closer to his edge. “Oh… oh, fuck…!” he growls, his grip on your hair tightening. “Oh, baby, I’m gonna cum…”

He releases down your throat, his shoulders finally dropping as he releases his hold on your hair. You hum happily as you swallow his load, gasping for air immediately after, your chest heaving up and down. He scoffs in awe as he stares down at you, nibbling on his lip hungrily. “You look so good taking my cock like that, honey. But I want to taste you now.” 

You squeak in surprise when he hoists you up, carrying you upstairs and to his bedroom with ease. You don’t even have time to look around before he tosses you down onto the bed on your back, crawling over and leaning down to leave a trail of kisses all the way from your collarbone, over the tops of your breasts, down your stomach and to the hem of your panties. He playfully bites on the lace to lower them down, making you giggle breathlessly. He stares at your soaked pussy, his blue eyes practically a shade darker from lust. “Look at you. All pretty and wet just for me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fervor. “Taste me,” you whine, shivering slightly from the cool air now upon your entrance, arching your back desperately. “Please, Andy, I want you to tongue fuck me so bad.” 

He groans just from hearing you. “What a naughty girl. I can’t believe how lucky I am you moved in right next door.” He smirks and leans in, swiping his tongue across your dripping folds. You whine slowly as your eyes flutter shut, fingers grasping the bedsheets. “Mm… something tells me I’ll be here just as much as… at my house…”

“I think so too.” His voice is low and husky, his sharp features displaying nothing but carnal hunger. He nibbles teasingly around the edges of your entrance before pushing his tongue inside, hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs spread apart. Plunging in and out, spitting once to create more wetness and saliva, his tongue travels all over and laps up everything it can get. He’s grunting to himself in enjoyment, his lips even finding your clit as he sucks on it carefully but excitedly, his fingers wrapping behind to squeeze your ass. You can’t help but moan loudly, your breaths airy and uneven, the occasional gasp coming out accompanied by pitchy and pleasured hums. “Andy…!”

“Mm… mmm…. so good…” he mumbles to himself in between, his tongue working your clit and wet core expertly and sending you closer and closer over the edge. “Oh! Ooh… I’m… I’m close…!” 

You finally release and he happily cleans you all up, exhaling deeply as a satisfied smirk crosses his lips. He pulls back only to come lay next to you, his bare chest moving up and down with his irregular breaths and his fluffy brown hair now slightly tousled from his head in between your thighs. You look up at him with an amused and breathless smile, raising an eyebrow playfully innocent as you whisper, “Did I taste good…?”

“Incredibly.” He answers with a low scoff, suddenly rolling over to face you and throwing his arm around you. “You make the perfect dessert. And I think I’m going to want you every night.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m right next door…”

#andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber imagine #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x you

[ironmariposa]

(The things I did) Just so I could call you mine

Chapter 3/4

Also found on Ao3

Notes: A huge thank you to @writing-as-tracey for giving me key words to use for Heather & Rays project and for all their encouragement for this story!! Keeps my motivation going. If you haven’t yet you should definitely check out their ff!

“The Senior baseball tournament.”

“Oh.” Heather laughs holding up her hands, “There’s no way you want me on the team.”

“Not a choice, Hill. Everyone has to play.”

Heather shakes her head, “Trust me, Ray, you do not want me.”

His eyes flash and she swallows because damn why does she keep slipping up like that. Making off the wall comments that have double meanings.

“I mean on the team. You don’t want me on the team. I’m horrible at organized sports.”

He leans towards her, “You can’t be that bad. Come on, it’ll be fun. Just. Go out to Andy’s and practice in the batting cages.”

Andy’s is the local putt putt place that is mostly a piece of shit but pretty much the only fun outing that’s close by. Her, Bishop, and Natalie spent most of their middle school years there. Playing putt-putt but for the one time. One time Natalie was crushing on a baseball player and forced the three of them to go to the batting cages. It was an absolute disaster.

“Lets just.” Heather sighs, “get back to work. I only have another hour before I have to pick up my sister.”

Ray drops his chair back to four legs and picks up the book she slides across the table to him. “Just think about it.”

She studies him as his eyes flicker through the book. They’ve had multiple meetings together at the library and sometimes at school. He’s given her rides home, teases with her sister and just recently started calling out to her in the hallways. The first few times she jumped, because in the past it meant he was about to mock her or Bishop.

He’s different and as the due date for their project approaches she finds herself almost sad. Because after they’re done she won’t have a reason to hang out with him. And she finds she actually likes hanging out with Ray Hall.

“Are you serious?” Heather stares at her friend, her best friend, in complete shock. The news she just dropped on them as they sat on the side of main street was shocking. To have known someone for so long and not see such a bombshell coming…. Heather was lost for words.

Bishop just shakes his head, “You know what, I'm not even that surprised.”

Heather looks at him then back at Nat, “Well I am. You’ve always said it’s a stupid game for idiots to play.”

“Nooo.” Nat says with a tilt of her head, “You've always said that. I just agreed.”

Bishop points his drink at Heather, “She’s got you there.”

“I mean…” Heather shakes her head and picks up her drink. Hearing that Natalie plans on playing the Senior game after two Seniors died last year playing it, is just terrifying. She never thought she would have to watch someone she cared about go through it. Although, the closer she grew to Ray, she knew in the back of her mind she would have to watch him. There was no way he wouldn’t play, especially since his brother won just a few years ago.

Nat nudges her with her arm, “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No. Not mad.” Heather meets her friend's dark brown eyes and cringes, “Just …worried.”

Nat laughs, “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s exactly what Jimmy and Abby thought too.” Bishop says with a bit of a bite to his voice. Both girls look at him with wide eyes and he makes a face, “Too dark?”

“Yeah.”

“Just a bit dude.”

They all laugh and if it’s a little strained, well, no one points it out.

Heather rushes into their established room in the library with an apology on her lips. “Sorry, my boss made me stay later because he wanted to get high with his girlfriend.” She slams herself in a chair and begins to unload her bag.

“Sounds like a douche.”

Heather grunts, “He one hundred percent is a douche.” She slams one book then another down on the table before pulling out her notebook and flipping it open, “But he pays me. Most of the time. So I have to put up with him.”

Ray closes the book he was reading and leans forward, “What do you mean he only pays you most of the time?”

Heather shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. So did you figure out which chapters we should focus on because I was thinking …” Heather stops her ramble as Ray's hands fall on top of her notebook, covering it completely.

“Heather, it’s illegal for them not to pay you.”

Heather sighs, “Well considering there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”

“You could quit.”

She laughs harshly at that, “You sound just like Nat and Bishop.” He makes a face at the comparison, “I can’t quit. I need the money. The portion my mom doesn’t take for living in her house, I’m saving for college.” She looks up at him with a desperation for him to understand because her friends never could. They both come from families that love and support them. Families that can afford to send them to college. Families that lift them up instead of dragging them down so deep, it feels like she will never be able to dig herself out no matter how hard she tries

But if anyone could get it, it would be him, “I have to get out of this town.” She says in a quiet voice and there it is. His eyes say it all, complete understanding.

She feels relieved at having someone understand her so completely. She feels like she can actually breath.

He nods after a moment and pulls his arms back, “I was thinking chapters ten and eleven and then the last few chapters.”

Heather nods as she flips through her notebook to those chapters.

“Hey.” Ray steps up to her locker and she glances quickly at him before focusing back on the contents of her locker. She can still see him out of her peripheral as he leans up against her locker door, grinning, “We’re taking the boat out tomorrow afternoon, want to come?”

Heather nudges him with her arm and grabs her locker door to shut it, “Did you finish your character analysis and also who’s we, because I have no interest hanging out with a drug dealer and a pediphile.” She starts to walk to class and he follows. Moving around her to walk backwards so he can face her. And it works for him because no one wants to be the one he trips over so everyone makes a path for them.

Ray chuckles, “I did finish it.” He waves the paper at her and she takes it, her eyes skimming over his handwriting, “And Adam’s not a pediphile.”

“Did he not date that freshman for a few months?” She asks as she tucks the paper in her notebook.

“Well sure but he was still seventeen at the time.”

Heather shakes her head at him silently. He laughs, his dimple flashing and her eyes once again lingering there. He notices. Of course he does, his eyes say it all.

“It’s not just them. Sarah will be there and probably Ruby Anne.” Ray stops causing her to stop or run into his chest. And she kind of wants that. At school he manages to keep his shirts buttoned but any other time she sees him or spends time with him, he usually has his bare chest on full display. And she’s been getting the urge to touch it more and more.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” He urges.

“Okay.” She finally agrees. Ray shouts loudly and steps around her to head off to his class. He continues celebrating loudly as he leaves her and she shakes her head in embarrassment. Glancing around she finds no one is paying them much attention besides a curious look or two. Thankfully neither of her friends have class down this hallway.

She actually has that Saturday off but she tells her mom she’s working. She can’t use that excuse on her friends because they’ll expect her to meet them on her break so she tells them she has to watch Lily and work on homework. They don’t question her because it happens often enough. She feels bad for lying to them. They both mean well but they’ve been making little comments here and there about how much time she’s been spending with Ray.

She approaches the dock with trepidation. She can see Adam and Sarah already on the boat. Ray is messing with a fishing pole off to the side. He looks good in low riding swimming trunks and a sleeveless button up. Of course it’s unbuttoned. Adam gives a soft whistle and nods to her when Ray glances at him. Ray turns to her, the smile on his face wide and genuine. He pushes his sunglasses on top of his head and her heart pounds at the look on his face.

“You came.” And he sounds genuinely surprised.

“I said I would.” She smiles back at him and they stand there for a long moment.

Tyler pushes past them, “Let's go bitches.”

Ruby Anne follows behind him and smiles apologetically at Heather. Her eyes find Rays again and he nods his head to the boat.

They’re last on the boat after Ray unties it from the dock and other than the captain's chair there’s nowhere for Heather to sit. Ray fixes that by pulling her onto his leg once he sits to drive the boat. She looks over his shoulder at him.

“Is this really necessary?”

He winks at her, keeping his eyes on the water but for that small glance, “Unless you prefer the floor?”

Heather glances over her shoulder. Sarah smiles at her as she lounges back in her seat, a can of beer already open in her hand. Tyler and Adam are passing a joint back and forth. Ruby Anne is sunbathing in her seat.

They're going pretty fast and as Ray turns the boat around a corner she falls more into his lap. She tries to move back to just perching on his knee but he maneuvers his arms around her waist to steer. After a moment of hesitation, Heather relaxes against his bare chest, her head resting just below his chin. He nudges her slightly with his nose and she glances up at him.

“Are you smelling me?”

He laughs out loud and she smiles at how much it thrills her to make him laugh. He presses his nose against her hair again and takes an exaggerated deep breath.

“Smells like peppermint.”

She doesn’t respond. Just enjoys being in his arms, letting herself relax for once where it concerns Ray. No one here is going to tell her it’s wrong or how horrible he is. Or how stupid she’s being. She can just enjoy the moment.

And she does. It takes them another twenty minutes before they get to where they’re going. Ray tells her it’s his favorite fishing spot. The others jump out and make their way to a floating dock where they continue their activities of sunbathing, smoking and drinking. Ray waves them off when they ask if they’re coming.

They spend the entire day out there on the water, not returning until twilight. Heather knows she’ll be red from playing in the water with Ray, to sunbathing on the dock with Sarah and Ruby Anne. She even had a semi deep conversation with Tyler about how honeybees play an important part in their ecosystem and how without them we wouldn’t have coffee or avocados or even medications. Heather's mind is blown with how much knowledge Tyler seems to have on this one subject but Ruby Anne informs her that when he’s high, Tyler likes to watch nature documentaries. They all laugh so hard at him, he storms off a huff.

Ray walks her to her car. The others already went on their way as she helped him unload the boat.

“Thanks for…” she turns and is left speechless as he his eyes meet hers. It’s dark out, hard to see much but his eyes are filled with want. For her. He takes one step, then another, crowding her smaller body back against the truck. And she thinks this is it. This is when he’s going to kiss her. And she was going to let him.

She whispers his name as her legs fall open, giving him room to press against her. She feels the hardness of him all over. He brings his hands up but instead of touching her like she expects. Like she wants, he brackets her head between them as he presses them against his truck. His head tilts down and she lets out a long breath as he drags his nose up her neck and to her ear. His breath is hot as he whispers in her ear, “You’re so far from cute, Heather Nill. I could absolutely devour you with how fuckin sexy you’ve looked all day. I’ve been hard since the moment you appeared on my dock.” And he proves this by grinding himself in the warm space between her legs. Heather's head falls back against the truck with a groan. She curls her hands with want. She wants to fill them with him. To touch him all over, starting with a handful of his hair and ending with a handful of his ….

Ray's nose is back to dragging over her neck and he nips at her pulse causing her to jump. She reaches for him, her hands spreading over his bare back as she pulls him in. He lifts his head, his lips a breath from hers.

Her phone goes off and it’s obnoxious enough that it pulls them both out of their lust haze. Ray pulls his body away from her as she reaches in her pocket to pull it out. It’s her neighbor and she knows she has to answer. It’s never good when she calls.

Glancing at Ray she flashes her phone at him, “I have to…” he just nods and she steps away from him as she presses the accept button.

As she suspected, Bo and her mom are at it again and Lily needs her. She quickly explains to Ray who accepts it with more understanding than she expects. Her friends aren’t usually so understanding but then again they have perfect families that never have drama. Ray on the other hand…

Ray sends her off with a tuck of hair behind her ear and a soft smile she’s never seen him give another. Her thoughts are on getting to her sister but her body is still aflame with desire as she speeds to the trailer park. And after she gets Lily settled in bed, the house now quiet with Bo gone and her mom passed out, Heather lies in her bed thinking of that moment out by his truck and how she knows without a doubt she would have let Ray take her to his bed if they hadn’t been interrupted. And she wonders if that’s a good thing or not.

Heather is waiting for Bishop to finish switching books in his backpack at his locker when Natalie runs up to them and grabs Heather's arm, squeezing tightly.

“Ow Nat.” Heather attempts to pull her arm from her friend's grip but the taller girl refuses to let go.

“You went on a date with Ray Hall?” Natalie practically shouts.

Heather shushes her as she glances around. Bishop looks up from his backpack, frozen. They stare at one another for a long moment before he says one word through gritted teeth, “Well?”

“I…”

Bishop slams the door to his locker so loudly, if people weren’t looking at them before, they sure were now. Natalie seems to notice this as well and pulls them into a dark empty classroom, closing the door behind them.

“Ruby Anne is going around saying you and Ray hooked up this weekend.”

“We didn’t hook up.”

“That you spent the day with them out on his boat. But that couldn’t be true, right? Because you told us,” Natalie points between her and Bishop, “That you couldn’t hang out because you were watching your sister all day.”

Heather presses the heels of her hands to her eyes and then runs them through her hair, “Okay. I lied.”

“You lied?” Bishop says.

Heather avoids meeting his eyes, instead choosing to look over his shoulder into the dark corner of the classroom, “Look, I just didn’t want you guys to give me shit about hanging out with Ray.”

“We don’t give you shit.” Natalie tries to protest.

“You actually do. Even when it’s just to work on the project, you give me shit. I’m so..” Heather takes a deep breath and lets it out, “I’m so sick of feeling guilty for wanting to spend time with someone.”

“Not just someone.” Bishop says through clenched teeth, “But Ray Hall.”

Heather tilts her head back as she breathes in deeply through her nose. Here it is.

“Ray Fucking Hall.”

“Okay, Bishop. I get it. You hate him.” She runs her hands through her hair again but says the next words without hesitation, “But I don’t.”

Bishop blanches at her words and she looks at Natalie who wrinkles her nose at her.

“Heather, you know what he is. You know.” Bishop says with so much heat. Heather just stares down at her feet as Bishop continues his rant. She knows he’s been building this up ever since she was partnered with Ray. She thinks maybe if she lets him have his say then he’ll just back off. Because between him and Ray and everyone else she feels so confused. “All he is and all he’ll ever be is a Meth Row idiot, heading down the same path as his father and brother. You have to see that. You have to know that after all these years.”

“Okay Bishop, that’s enough.” Natalie finally steps in. His eyes flash to her then back to Heather. Without another word he turns on his heel and storms away.

“He’s an idiot.” Natalie says.

“He is.” She agrees.

Natalie wraps her arm around Heather and guides her back out of the classroom, “But you know it’s because he’s in love with you.”

Heather tilts her head back with a groan, “He is not in love with me, Nat.”

Natalie just gives her a look. The look, “If you say so girl.”

After the confrontation, Heather keeps to herself. She doesn’t see either of her friends the rest of the day. She attempts to smile at Ray in class but he just turns in his seat to talk to Adam. She’s too distracted to think anything of it and slides into her seat silently. It’s the week before Spring Break which means their presentations are all week. Their day to present is on Thursday and so Heather sits through the week watching the other presentations. Bishop isn’t talking to her at all and Nat is being distant. She spends her days after school working and keeping Lily away from their trailer as much as possible. The fallouts between her mom and Bo usually last longer than a day or two and it’s always safer to keep their distance.

But then Thursday comes and Ray is nowhere to be seen. She sits in class as the bell rings and picks at her nails. Mrs. Plaza calls her up to the front, “It looks like your partner isn’t going to show. Are you comfortable doing the presentation on your own?”

“I am. But he’ll show.”

Mrs. Plaza looks at her with sympathy, “I’ll put you and Ray last on the list.” She reaches out a hand and places it on Heathers, a comforting touch, “But, Honey, I wouldn’t count on him showing up.”

Heather smiles, “He’ll be here.” And though she sounds confident, with each minute that ticks by, her confidence falters.

Finally, there’s no time left and it’s their turn to present.

He doesn’t show.

#heather x ray fanfic #nillhall fanfic #ray x heather #nillhall #ray hall #heather nill #panic fanfic #panic on prime #my writing

[greywolfheirs]

Prompt for Joe and Nicky please! Someone adopts a stray cat without explanation. Bonus if he gives the cat a silly name

Here you go anon! I enjoyed writing something cute :3

-----

It just so happened that after a mission one day, Nile found a cat hanging out just outside their safehouse. Her belly was plump with kittens and Nile stuck out a hand for a pet, but the cat ran off. Still, it got Nile thinking.

“Have you guys ever had any pets?” she asked that night at dinner. “Or is that a thing we don’t do since we live so long.”

Joe smiled over at Nicky. Not a rare occurrence, though the blush and duck of the head Nicky gave back was.

“We have before, yes,” Nicky said in answer.

Nile sat back, knowing she was in for a good story.

-----

New York, 1930

Joe looked up at the sound of the door to their safehouse opening and closing. It was Nicky, back from scouting out the area Andy had suggested the night before, where they could possibly provide aid for the victims of the Great Depression.

Joe, deep in his research, barely had time to look up and give Nicky a smile in greeting. Still, in that glance, something had seemed...off about his husband. Joe blinked and looked back up at the coat rack, which remained empty. Nicky had kept his coat on. A coat that was surely soaked from the rain they’d had only half an hour earlier.

Joe squinted. Something was going on. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard Nicky in the kitchen making shushing noises. All pretense of continuing to study went out the window, and Joe went into the kitchen to find Nicky rummaging through the fridge.

“Do we have any milk?” Nicky asked when he heard Joe step on the creaky floorboard that led into the kitchen.

“You used the last of it last night,” Joe answered. “How did scouting go, Nicky?”

“It went well,” Nicky answered distractedly, already closing the fridge and moving to the cabinets. “How about canned meats?”

“We’re down to one can of Spam.”

“That just won’t do, will it?” NIcky muttered to himself, though he almost looked into his coat as he said it.

“Nicky,” Joe began slowly, “what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Joe,” Nicky said, still rummaging through the cabinets. “I’ll let you know the details when Andy and Booker get back.”

See the thing was, Nicky didn’t necessarily lie to Joe anymore. No, they’d gotten to know each other’s tells far too well for that to work anymore. But what he did was avoid the question he knew Joe was asking. And he was doing it now.

“Nicky,” Joe said again, drawing out the last syllable.

Nicky took a deep breath. “You must promise me you won’t react badly.”

“I can’t make a promise to that,” Joe said, beginning to get worried.

“I mean I want you to think about it, before I tell you--”

“Nicky, I will tell you my reaction when you tell me what I should be reacting to,” Joe laughed.

Nicky sighed. Then, very slowly he began to turn around, revealing what he held in his coat.

“Nicky,” Joe sighed sadly when he saw it. It was a small black and white kitten, eyes bright blue, just small enough to fit in the inside of Nicky’s coat pocket.

“Let me explain--”

“What’s there to explain, Nicky?” Joe asked. “We’re in the middle of a depression. We can’t afford to--”

“I know, Joe, I know, but what was I supposed to do?”

“You could--”

“It was raining, and he was all alone--no mother in sight, I checked--and clearly too young to survive in this city alone,” Nicky pleaded.

Joe wanted to argue--he did, he wasn’t always a pushover when it came to Nicky. But the kitten was cute, and Nicky was cute, and damn it why did his husband have to have such a big heart? Besides, what was Joe supposed to do? Release a kitten back into the hungry streets of New York? So instead he sighed again.

“There’s a can of tuna in the back of the cabinet none of us wanted to eat,” he said.

Nicky’s eyes lit up and he stepped forward to press a kiss squarely on Joe’s lips. “Hyati--”

“Don’t hyati me,” Joe laughed but he kissed Nicky back. The kitten meowed just then, and Nicky handed him over before turning back around and grabbing the can of tuna. To the cat, Joe asked, “Now, what are we going to name you?”

“I hadn’t thought that far,” Nicky said. “I found him by the docks. Perhaps a sailor’s name?”

“Mr. Captain,” Joe said with some finality.

Nicky laughed. “Two titles, love? A bit much to put on such a small creature.”

“No, that’s his name,” Joe said, and Nicky didn’t argue.

Later, when Andy and Booker returned, Joe and Nicky were found playing with Mr. Captain, tossing a crumpled paper across the floor to each other and watching the cat pounce after it.

“Goddamn it, guys,” Andy cursed. “Did you forget we’re in a depression?”

“It will be fine, boss,” Nicky said, picking up the cat and standing up. “Joe and I have already discussed it. We’ll share our portions with him.”

“What’s its name?” Booker asked, though he was already heading to his room, snickering to himself.

“Mr. Captain,” Joe answered proudly, even as Nicky winced. Andy took the kitten from Nicky and began examining it.

“Well, I hate to tell you, but Mr. Captain is a girl,” Andy said.

Joe shrugged. “Too late. It’s her name.”

Nicky rolled his eyes fondly and took the kitten back from Andy.

“She’ll be our responsibility, boss,” Nicky promised. “You won’t even notice she’s around.”

“I better not,” Andy said, and headed to her room.

-----

“So what happened?” Nile asked when they finished the story.

“Mr. Captain lived for two decades before passing away in her sleep,” Nicky explained.

“Twenty years?” Nile asked. She looked over to Andy. “And you let them keep it that long?”

Andy shrugged at the same time Joe and Nicky began laughing.

“Please,” Joe said, “she loved that cat more than anything. Wouldn’t let anything happen to it.”

Nile smiled and noticed how bright Andy’s eyes were, probably reminiscing about Mr. Captain. It was yet another day that reminded her that she had truly found a home with their ragtag band.

#the old guard #kaysanova #joe x nicky

[lovelikedestiny]

Still waters run deep | Part One

The morning after jumping out of a skyscraper, Nile does not expect to wake up to the smell of bacon and therefore lies quietly on her back for a few seconds while she tries to find out whether she's still asleep. Her growling stomach tells her otherwise, however, because apparently dying and coming back to life is quite stimulating for the metabolism and makes you damn hungry

The sore muscles she expected from yesterday's questionable actions – hey, she was shot several times and threw a teenager in a ridiculous hoodie blazer out of a window – do not materialize, and Nile doesn't know whether to embrace or curse this aspect of immortality. She decides to put everything that has to do with it in the farthest corner of her head and see to it that her stomach gets something to eat. At least this is a task she can easily handle and that is comforting considering all of the changes she has experienced in the past few days. To her surprise, there is only one other person in the kitchen of the house Andy chose to stay for last night. Nicky stands calmly at the stove and turns the bacon in the pan with practiced movements that Nile envies for their elegance. He's wearing something similar to the evening in Goussainville. His back - under the dark fabric of his shirt - is turned towards her and he doesn't give the impression that he was tortured in a laboratory for 18 hours. "Good morning, Nile," he says softly without turning around and Nile almost startles because she didn't expect him to notice her. But this man has been around for 900 years and has probably learned to tell the steps of his companions apart. And it's no wonder with as close as he and Joe are. "Hi," she says awkwardly and stands indecisively in the doorway until Nicky points to an empty chair at the table, still keeping his eyes on the pan. "Please take a seat. Would you like tea or coffee? " "Uh...coffee please," she replies and sinks into one of the chairs. “I can go straight back to bed without caffeine,” she adds jokingly, trying to lighten the mood that is overshadowed by yesterday's events, despite the pleasantly normal noises of sizzling bacon. As if Nicky had done it hundreds of times - this man has probably witnessed the development of this hot drink – he pushes a cup filled with wonderful fresh coffee over the table to her and the subtle smile that plays around the corner of his mouth is what Nile sees as a victory. However, she cannot help but notice the deep circles under his eyes; adorning his pale face. "Thank you." She puts both hands around the cup and sighs softly as the pleasant warmth envelops her fingers. Nicky gives her a friendly nod and goes back to the stove, where he begins to lift the bacon from the pan onto a plate. Without taking her eyes off him, Nile carefully takes a sip and waits until it has reached her stomach before she speaks to Nicky: “Did you sleep at all? You look terrible. And I say that knowing some people would be very likely to throw themselves at your feet if you looked at them." To be honest, she doesn't know how to behave towards him. She had so little time to get to know him and Joe better before they were kidnapped. Nevertheless, the couple was extremely nice and welcoming at dinner in France and Nile is sure that has not changed. "No," Nicky says simply, his tone still soft when he answers her and puts a plate of toast and bacon in front of her. "And it's enough for me that Joe throws himself at my feet." Nile, who didn't expect such a dry line, gives a surprised laugh and is rewarded with a small but mischievous grin from Nicky. This almost makes her forget the essential aspect of their conversation:  Nicky hasn't slept. And with the way she felt after jumping out of the skyscraper, his body should actually be pretty exhausted. After all, he and Joe didn't get the gentle treatment in the lab. Before she can go into further detail, Nicky shrugs his shoulders, almost embarrassed. "Unfortunately, I can only be of service with toast and bacon. The kitchen has nothing more to offer here and I didn't want to leave the house." He doesn't say why he didn't want to leave the house and Nile doesn't dig deeper due to the dull shine of his eyes. "Hello? I could die for bacon!" Nile exclaims in an exaggeratedly dramatic way and inhales the salty smell of the said food deeply, but considering past events and their significance her joke leaves a bitter aftertaste.

She clears her throat uncomfortably and starts to eat while Nicky silently prepares another plate of toast and places it on the seat next to Nile, although he doesn't sit down. She opens her mouth to ask him why he isn't eating too when Joe's voice comes from the hallway. "Nicolo?" Even if she doesn't know him that well, she hears the slight alarm in his voice and Nicky notices it too. "In the kitchen, my heart," he replies quickly and gives Joe a tender smile as he enters the room. The dark-haired warrior immediately relaxes when he catches sight of Nicky and Nile realizes that Joe looks just as exhausted as Nicky just in other ways: his face has a pained expression, and his eyes are slightly puffy as if he had cried last night. And Nile can't blame him in the slightest, smiling encouragingly at him to make him feel like he doesn't have to hide anything from her. Sympathetic crinkles form around his eyes when he returns her smile, but the humorous spark that lurked in his gaze in Goussainville is missing. She concentrates on her breakfast when Joe and Nicky kiss and then put their foreheads together, which is so much more intimate than wild making out, as Nile has seen several times in public with other couples. Quietly mumbled words wander back and forth between them and despite the fact that Nile tries hard to focus on her coffee, she still listens to them a little. "Did you even sleep, Nicky?" Out of the corner of her eye she sees how Joe puts a hand on Nicky's cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. “I'm fine, Joe. Really. I can catch up on sleep,” Nicky assures him just as quietly and puts his hand on Joe's, squeezing it gently. "Sit down. Unfortunately, there is only toast.” Joe makes an unsatisfied noise. “You should have woken me up. Then I could have stayed up with you and...” "Yusuf", Nicky interrupts him and there is so much warmth in his bright eyes that Nile quickly takes a long sip of coffee and burns her tongue, although the pain disappears seconds later. “You needed sleep. And I...” “You need sleep too! You were in that damn lab with me!” Joe interjects, his voice still lowered, but clearer. "... don't sleep very well after heavy missions,” Nicky ends the sentence calmly, as if Joe hadn't said anything. "When this is all over, you can tie me to the bed and we won't go out for a week, okay?" Joe sighs deeply but laughs softly. “A week in bed, huh? I like that thought." With another kiss, Nicky urges him to the seat next to Nile, where the other plate is already waiting. Joe falls heavily on the chair, accepts Nicky's coffee cup with a grateful smile and leans into the touch as Nicky briefly lets his hand slide through Joe's curls. “You're an angel,” Joe says, biting off the jam toast that Nicky has already made. It's just a small bite and Joe chews it for a long time, but Nile thinks it's better than not eating at all. "If I'm an angel, you are my heaven." Nicky rummages behind them at the sink and makes this statement as casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Oh man," Nile says, eating her last piece of toast. "You're really disgustingly cute." Joe chuckles into his mug, but the chuckles stop abruptly when Booker walks into the kitchen. There is a really crushing silence for a few heartbeats and nobody moves. The problem with the Frenchman is that Nile absolutely thinks his betrayal sucks and can only shake her head at how he turned over the people who have accompanied him for centuries. But she understands his motives, has seen the deep pain that nests in him when he told her about his family, and she likes him. Nile sees in him someone who understands her current situation with her family. Booker shifts his weight, his bloodshot eyes darting back and forth between them and finally he starts moving and comes to the table. "Morning," he mumbles. Joe pretends not to have heard him, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the jam toast, although he only pushes the bitten bread around on his plate. Nile raises her hand in greeting. "Hello." "Good morning," Nicky says and Booker freezes in alarm, his hands on the back of the chair he has just pulled back to sit down. As if the Italian had yelled at him, but Nile sees no hostile behavior in Nicky's grip as he pours coffee into another mug. Even Joe takes a closer look at his lover and Nile's last strip of bacon remains lonely on her plate because she is absolutely confused by everyone's behavior. "I hope you saved a bunch of bacon for me, Nicky," Andy says as she appears in the kitchen. The warrior looks tired and beaten but moves with the same confidence and strength with which Nile first met her. She favors the side that Nicky patched up yesterday, but otherwise nothing of her new mortality can be seen. Nicky hands her the coffee cup and a plate on which you can barely see the toast under all the bacon. "That is out of the question." Andy narrows her eyes into ice blue triangles yet sits down at the breakfast table with her plate and mug, without taking her attention from Nicky. "Everything is fine so far?" "Always,” Nicky says simply and somehow automatic. Joe makes a face. “According to the circumstances, boss.” The swipe at Booker cannot be ignored, Booker stares at the floor. "And you?" Andy's snort is barking. "As good as new. And now eat your girl-toast. Nicky didn't make my toast that sweet." Joe shakes his head with a grin. "Bacon is also difficult to smear." "Exactly," Nicky says, stressing Joe's opinion by pointing at Andy's plate. "Bacon is fat, but not spreadable.” Whatever it is that the others hear in Nicky's voice, it makes them turn to the Italian who is still at the sink, now washing the pan. Nile nibbles on her last strip of bacon without saying a word because she doesn't want to miss anything. Only then does she notice that Booker is the only one who hasn't received a coffee cup or a full plate and has not yet sat down, as if he were unsure whether Nicky should bring him anything or whether he should get something himself. "Um," Booker makes a sound in his throat. It is not an offended sound, but just an expression of his discomfort and he moves to go to the wall cabinet where the cups are. The water in the sink runs out.

Then several things happen at once: Nicky turns around in a lightning-fast movement, something gleams metallic and suddenly Booker utters a French curse, staggering backwards and staring in disbelief at the knife that is stuck in his shoulder.

Andy jumps up. "NICKY!" "Merde!" Booker hisses and pulls out the knife – the knife Nicky threw – with clenched teeth, looking sadly at the blood on the blade and on his shirt. But before he can reply, Nicky is suddenly in front of him. Andy curses too and prepares to intervene, but the table is in the way and Nicky is too fast. With her mouth half open in shock, Nile can do nothing but watch as Nicky skillfully snatches the knife from Booker's grip, knocks him with a short, violent blow against the wall and rams the weapon millimeters from Booker's face into the wallpaper. She can't believe that this is the man who kindly showed her the bed in France and apologetically declared a few minutes ago that he could only serve toast and bacon for breakfast as if that were a criminal offense. On the other hand, Nicky is the only one who hasn't expressed his anger so far. Joe was pretty verbal in the lab and wasn't shy about saying what he thought of Booker's actions, and Andy just seemed too exhausted and tired of all the shit she's been through in her many, many years to be particularly outraged. But Nicky was the one who soothed Joe yesterday and coaxed Andy with gentle touches into letting him treat her wound. And however, Nile expected his anger to be expressed, she didn't expect this kind of anger; this icy wrath that doesn't burst out of Nicky uncontrollably like Joe's yesterday but is purposefully and controlled and therefore all the more intimidating and frightening. Booker stares wide-eyed at Nicky, who has one hand still on the knife rammed into the wall and the other buried in Booker's shirt, holding Booker firmly in place, his face just inches from Booker's. "Did that hurt?" Nicky finally asks so gently that Nile wouldn't have understood him if it hadn't been for dead silence in the kitchen. And although Nicky has not raised his voice, a shiver runs down Nile's spine, because beneath the gentleness you can clearly hear an unsettling coldness.

Can be found on AO3 too :)

#the old guard #Nile Freeman #Nicolo di Genova #Yusuf al-Kaysani #Sebastien le Livre #Andromache the Scythian #morning after merrick #part one #fanfiction #still waters run deep